"Not until I've had dessert," Emily said. "I need the most chocolaty of chocolate mousses, and I need it now!"

Savannah began to giggle. "I hope Mick is prepared for endless fucking," she said. "It's going to take several long hours to scratch that itch he's given you."

"Even your randy Reg looks good to me right now," Emily muttered.

"You'd hate yourself in the morning." Savannah cackled.

"I know," Emily said, wincing, and her best friend laughed harder.

The two women returned to the table, and dessert was ordered. Emily ate two plates of chocolate mousse, complaining when she saw the first serving that it was way too little. She washed them down with champagne, and then announced she was ready to go back to the inn. Outside, the two women air-kissed each other, and Lord Palmer insisted on giving Emily a kiss on the cheek, which was no more than an excuse to squeeze her ass as his arm slipped about her waist and he pulled her close. He still had the hard-on. Well, at least Savannah was guaranteed a good night as well.

They began the drive back to the inn, but Devlin suddenly pulled off the road into a stand of trees. The engine had barely died when he was yanking her into his arms and kissing her hungrily. "He had a hard-on when he danced with you. Did he rub it against your pussy?" Devlin demanded.

"Yes," she whispered in his ear. "He still had it when he kissed me good night, and he squeezed my butt. Are you jealous, Devlin?" she teased him, the tip of her tongue outlining the inside of his ear seductively.

"Did you want him?" His voice was rough, angry. "Did you think about what it would be like to have his cock up your cunt, angel face?"

"I only want you, and instead of taking me back to our room, where we can fuck each other's brains out, you're raving at me in the car like a jealous lunatic. The thought of Reg Palmer as a lover disgusts me. If he were the handsomest, most charming man in the world I wouldn't screw him. He's my best friend's husband, and I do have some standards," Emily said icily. "Now start the damned car and let's get back. I am so hot for you right now I could die, Devlin!"

He groaned. "I'm sorry," he said. "I get jealous when I see him imagining himself with you."

"Why?" she demanded softly.

He wasn't certain he had heard her. "Why?" he repeated.

"Yes, why do you get jealous?" Emily said.

Why? Because he loved her, that was why! But he couldn't seem to get the words out of his mouth, and remained silent.

"Do you like me, Devlin?" Emily said gently. "Do you get jealous of other men because you like me?"

"I think so," he admitted to her. "Yes, damn it, that's it!" He sounded to himself like a moron. What the hell was the matter with him that he couldn't tell her that he was in love with her? That he had never before loved a woman the way he loved her? But he couldn't say it, because if he did it would mean more to Emily than just a casual affair. Loving Emily meant forever. It meant children. It meant happily-ever-after, and Michael Devlin wasn't quite ready to admit that he had the same needs as other men: a desire for a mate, for offspring, for a warm place to come home to. And what if she didn't love him? What if it really had been all about the sex, and nothing more? About her career.

"Turn the key in the ignition, Devlin," she said to him. "If you don't get those damned ivory balls out of me soon I'm probably going to kill you. And incidentally, I like you too." There! She had said it. And she had heard him say it. He liked her! Was like shorthand for love? Men always found it hard to use the word love. Was like better than adore? When they got back to the States she was going to begin to put the pressure on Michael Devlin. She didn't want him just as a lover anymore. She wanted him as a husband, but getting confirmed bachelors to commit to forever-after was never a simple thing. Aaron had said their relationship was a forbidden one. But it didn't have to be. Why couldn't real life be as easy as her novels? She could manage the Duke of Malincourt, the Earl of Throttlesby, and their ilk. But could she manage to get a proposal of marriage from Michael Devlin? If she couldn't she was going to die an old maid, because Emily Shanski was not a woman to give her heart away more than once, and Devlin already had it.

Chapter 8

"How does it work?" Emily asked Savannah. They were curled up together on Lady Palmer's large bed. Lord Palmer was in London, and Michael Devlin was flying back to New York even as she spoke. Emily could hardly wait to follow. Two nights ago she and Devlin had engaged in the most incredible sex. She wanted more.

"Actually, it works just like the old one, except if you click the enter button twice, both of us can enter the same fantasy," Savannah explained. "They're just trying it out with a few good customers worldwide. I haven't attempted it with a friend yet, but I thought this would be a great time to try it."

"I don't know, Savannah," Emily demurred.

"Now that you know what sex is really all about," Savannah said, "aren't you just the tiniest bit curious to know the perverted side of it? I know you, Emily. If Devlin doesn't propose you'll never marry, and you probably won't take another lover in or out of the Channel. This is your chance to experience some naughtier aspects of sex."

"Devlin and I have had oral and anal sex," Emily replied. "And he likes to spank me now and again."


"Ever had multiple partners?" Savannah replied. "Of course you haven't. There are things you should experience, if only once. You know you have the right to refuse or say no. And I'm going to be there too."

"Where?" Emily asked.

"London, 1870. I've created this fancy brothel called the Cock and Cunt. I peopled it with a Madame Rose, pretty whores, and lots of randy gentlemen. Only wealthy gentlemen can afford the Cock and Cunt. We'll be two of the girls. You'll be Molly, and I'll be Polly. We're cousins, and the men are all mad about us."

"I suspect I shouldn't ask," Emily said, "but what are we wearing?"

"Well, to begin with, we both have long, curly hair down our backs," Savannah said. "Do you want to change your color? I like my black hair, especially with my fair skin. Actually, I think your coloring is perfect."

"What are we wearing?" Emily asked again.

"Not a whole lot." Savannah giggled. "We have black silk stockings that are gartered at the thigh, and colorful short silk robes with sashes."

"How short?" Emily wanted to know.

"They barely conceal your pussy," Savannah admitted.

"Sounds very provocative," Emily noted. "I think I should have a narrower waist and bigger boobs, though. What do you think?"

"Tiny waist and curving hips," Savannah replied. "Very fashionable, Em! And we'll be twenty. It's a perfect age! Then you'll do it with me?"

"I shouldn't," Emily said, "but a couple of hours without Devlin and I find myself getting very horny, Sava. I don't know what the hell has come over me; I seem to want sex all the time. Sometimes I think I would have been better off to remain a virgin."

"No, you wouldn't have!" Savannah said. "Look, sex is fun. And sex on the Channel is not just fun; it's guilt-free. These fantasies are our secrets. We don't share them with the men we love, or even most other women. Men have their secret fantasies too. And some not so secret, like old Reg up in London boink-ing Gillian tonight. She's such a cow. I don't know what he sees in her, Emily."

"The forbidden," Emily said sagely. "Aaron says my relationship with Devlin is something forbidden." She sighed. "I never thought to fall in love with him. And if I'm in love with him, should I be cavorting on the Channel with other men?"

"The men we're going to cavort with are fantasy men. They don't exist in our reality, Emily. No guilt," Savannah repeated. "Besides, Devlin hasn't committed himself to you yet. And God knows, he's had plenty of other women in his time. He's your first," Savannah responded softly. "We'll have a great deal of fun, I promise you, and you know you can stop it anytime you want. But you won't want to stop, I'll wager."

"If I did, would I spoil your evening?" Emily wanted to know.

Savannah shook her head. "No, you wouldn't. I understand from the brochure I got that we can go into the Channel together, but we don't have to return together. Curfew, of course, is the same. We'll wake up here. We're the toast of the Cock and Cunt, Miss Molly. The men all adore us, and we're Madame Rose's special pets because of it." She tilted her head to one side. "Are you ready for a wicked adventure?"

Emily laughed. Why not? she thought. In my reality I would never be unfaithful to Devlin, particularly if we marry. This is probably the only chance I'll ever get to be a wild child. And having Savannah with me is just perfect. She can always get me to attempt things I might otherwise never try. "I'm ready," she said.

Savannah pointed the channel changer at the large plasma-screen television. She clicked the on button. She clicked the proper numeral. And there on the screen an elegant parlor came into view. The couches were upholstered in ruby-red velvet. They matched the heavy curtains covering the windows. The furniture was dark mahogany in the Empire style, with bright brass fittings. Some of the tabletops were of marble. The carpeting on the floor was of thick wool in the Oriental style. Everything was expensive and of the best quality, from the Waterford chandelier hanging from the center of the gilt plaster ring of fruit upon the ceiling to the decanters on a mahogany sideboard to the heavy gilt-framed paintings on the wall, which offered tasteful scenes of gods, goddesses, satyrs, nymphs, and centaurs in various sexual pursuits.