Chapter 18 #4
“Actually it is, as I have been responsible for my brother’s welfare and happiness since he was the age of eight. But do not bother to reveal his secrets, as I can already guess what they are.”
“So you are now a fortune teller? Or rather, a Gypsy mind reader?” She poked him with her elbow, smiling and hoping to change the subject.
“Hardly,” he said, but he smiled in return.
The seamstress’s shop was not what Virginia had been expecting.
She had anticipated a small shop filled with tables and ladies sewing industriously there.
Instead, a stunning young woman with red hair, superbly dressed, unlatched the front door and allowed them into a front hall with polished wood floors and fine Persian rugs.
Display cases lined the two walls on either side of the store, boasting hats, gloves, purses and the occasional swatch of fabric or pair of earbobs.
Stairs carpeted in red swept up directly ahead.
“Captain O’Neill?” The redhead smiled at Devlin. Her accent was French.
“Madame Didier?” he asked, clearly with some surprise. The woman was no more than twenty-one or two.
“I am Mademoiselle Didier, her niece,” the redhead replied softly, her regard not quite seductive. And she faced Virginia. “Mademoiselle Hughes, I presume?”
Virginia nodded, her gaze darting from the elegant and seductive Frenchwoman to the stunning items on display in the hall. It was impossible to decide whether to stare at Madame Didier’s niece or at what was for sale in the shop.
“Please, Captain, Mademoiselle, do come upstairs, my aunt is waiting for you.”
Devlin touched the small of Virginia’s back and she preceded him up the wide staircase, following Mademoiselle Didier.
The salon above had a marble floor and several gracious seating arrangements.
An older woman, dark-haired, fine-figured and handsome, came out of another room.
“Captain O’Neill, it is such a pleasure to meet you, at last,” she cried, rushing to them with a wide smile, her accent stronger than her niece’s.
He bowed over her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Madame, and I am very grateful that you could see us at such short notice.”
“For you, mon capitaine, I would need no notice at all.” She turned to Virginia. “Mademoiselle, ah, what beauty, what petite beauty, ah, this will be so easy and such a pleasure. Look, Sofie, regardes la petite!”
A flurry of French followed, the two women beaming.
Virginia flushed, feeling foolish and flustered and wishing she wasn’t being called beautiful, as Madame ushered her into the adjacent room.
“Does the captain wish to stay and approve our choices or shall you leave the selection of gowns and fabrics up to the ladies?” Madame Didier asked, her eyes twinkling.
“He is leaving,” Virginia said quickly as Devlin sat down on a delicate green velvet love seat, dwarfing it. She gaped at him.
He smiled lazily back. “I prefer to approve, Madame. Virginia needs a number of ensembles for day and some ball gowns, perhaps two. I prefer her to be in shades that match her eyes—violet and amethyst would do nicely, I think.”
Virginia knew her jaw hung open, but she could not help herself. He was staying? She was to be fitted, and that meant some state of undress.
“And ruby red, mon capitaine, and of course, silver.” She snapped her fingers and Sofie held up a swath of iridescent silver fabric that rippled and glowed as the air simply brushed over it.
Devlin’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes,” he said instantly. “I like it very much.”
Virginia went still, closing her mouth and staring at him as Madame made a happy sound, Sofie now draping the fabric over Virginia’s shoulder and chest. He looked indolently over her at her and smiled, but there was nothing indolent about his eyes—the gleam there was bright.
Her mouth went dry.
He wanted to clothe her in the silver tissue and he clearly found the idea arousing. She swallowed hard. “Devlin, why don’t you make your suggestions and then leave us for a bit?”
“I am staying.” He settled more negligently on the small settee.
Madame chortled happily. “Sofie, where is le rouge noir?”
Instantly Sofie found it and, smiling, held up a sinfully rich dark red satin.
“Mon capitaine, look at this!” Madame cried.
Virginia wanted to tell them that she could not wear that, oh no, that was for a woman like Mademoiselle Didier, it was for a woman like the countess.
Devlin nodded, his eyes warmer and brighter than before.
Madame Didier gave an order to Sofie in French and she began to unbutton Virgnia’s dark pelisse as Madame sat down and began making notes.
Virginia gasped as it was removed. “I…what are you doing?” she asked warily.
“You must undress. We must take your measurements,” Sofie said softly, unbuttoning the back of her dress.
Virginia looked at Devlin for help.
But no help was to be had from that quarter, as he merely crossed his long legs. “Do not mind me,” he murmured, apparently relaxing and preparing to enjoy the entertainment.
Virginia felt the dress opening down her back and the delicate touch of Sofie’s nimble fingers. She was disbelieving, but not angry. Devlin’s eyes continued to gleam and what was actually happening was making her breathless.
Her heart beat far too hard. She swallowed and lifted her arms and allowed the couturier’s niece to remove her dress over her head. Madame Didier looked up from her notes and clucked when she saw the pantalettes. By now, Virginia’s cheeks were warming, but so was the rest of her body.
She glanced around, to see if there was a window that could be opened, but there was not. “It is still the fashion in America,” Virginia lied. She shot Devlin a glance.
He hadn’t heard her, as he was quite obviously distracted. His gaze was on her ankles, clad in a wisp of silk stocking, and then it moved to the tips of her breasts, which were, naturally, hard and covered only with the thin wisp of her chemise.
Before Virginia could blink, Sofie removed that garment as well, so she stood clad only in her corset, pantalettes and the drawers beneath. Her breasts were bare, upthrust by the corset, and she was briefly stunned. Her cheeks went on fire and she slowly looked at Devlin.
And he, of course, he was staring very intently now.
The air thickened in the room.
It thickened enough that it was very hard to breathe.
“Capitaine?” Sofie asked, and before Virginia could react she held the red satin over her chest, a stunningly sensuous caress against her breasts, and she said, as softly, “Imagine that, Capitaine, imagine that.”
Virginia bit her lip to cut off a moan. Every inch of her body was now turgidly raised.
“I more than approve,” Devlin said far too quietly, his tone rough.
The red satin was whipped away.
“Mademoiselle needs undergarments.” Madame stood. “Two corsets, one black, one white, both trimmed with ribbons, with lace. And for each, a chemise to match. Oui?”
Sofie now held up a section of black lace and as Devlin seemed to nod, she whisked it across Virginia’s chest. Virginia didn’t have to glance at herself to know the lace was transparent.
Devlin’s gaze was rapt.
“Le Capitaine is happy?” Sofie said softly.
“Very.”
The lace disappeared, followed by a sheer ivory linen, and when that was gone, several ribbons in shades of ivory, cream and pink trickled down Virginia’s breasts.
“Oui?” Madame asked briskly.
Virginia tried to swallow, but the ribbons were silk and swallowing was now as difficult as breathing.
Devlin nodded, no longer speaking. His gaze moved over the ribbons—over her breasts—and finally lifted to her face.
She could not look away.
“Use them all with the ivory,” he said.
“Superbe, mon capitaine,” Madame agreed wholeheartedly. “Drawers to match in the latest fashion, oui?”
“Yes,” Devlin said.
“I wish to show you something. A special silk, for the undergarment, very special, mademoiselle will love it. It is downstairs, un moment, s’il vous pla?t.” Madame walked out.
Virginia wondered how she was going to survive the fitting.
Sofie now held up a rich, shimmering dark purple silk against Virginia and a hollow feeling overcame her as Devlin slowly nodded.
This time Sofie did not toss the silk aside.
“How low, mon capitaine?” Sofie murmured.
She adjusted the fabric so that only the topmost swells of Virginia’s chest were revealed. “Pour la jour?”
“Lower,” he said.
Virginia felt as if she were in a trance, a sexual one, and she blinked, not sure if she was horrified or not. She had never worn such a low neckline in her life, much less even lower.
“Here?” Sofie asked, lowering the garment by an inch.
“Very nice,” Devlin said thickly. And suddenly he spoke quickly in fluent French.
“D’accord,” Sofie said when he was through. She sent Virginia a glance and hurried out, closing the door behind her.
Virginia met Devlin’s gaze as he slowly stood and she turned, reaching wildly for the closest fabric in order to cover herself. But she knew.
“Don’t,” he said, a command.
She froze, a wisp of silk in her hand, her nipples hurting, her sex ripe.
He tugged the silk from her hand.
“What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes wide.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in return, sliding his hands over her breasts and clasping them firmly.
Virginia wanted to be quiet and she failed—the terrible sensuality that had been building in her erupted and she cried out.
Her eyes closed as he rubbed her nipples, making them harder and tauter and tighter than before, until she was trembling helplessly, moaning, her sex engorged and throbbing wildly for relief.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
Somehow her eyes obeyed, opening, and their gazes met. His were silver flames.
He smiled a little and bent and touched one tip with his tongue.