{"product_id":"the-courtship-isbn-9780515127218","title":"The Courtship","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe stunning Regency-era romance from #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author Catherine Coulter.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharacters from two of Coulter’s most beloved novels in the Sherbrooke Bride series find each other in \u003ci\u003eThe Courtship\u003c\/i\u003e. Helen Mayberry of \u003ci\u003eMad Jack\u003c\/i\u003e has one passion: to track down a mystical treasure. That is, until she meets the thoroughly wicked Spenser Heatherington in a clash of the titans.\"Delectable humor and sexuality.\"\u003cb\u003e -\u003ci\u003ePUBLISHERS WEEKLY\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A good storyteller…Coulter always keeps the pace brisk.”—\u003ci\u003eFort Worth Star-Telegram\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ms. Coulter is a one-of-a-kind author who knows how to hook her readers and keep them coming back for more.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Best Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Coulter is excellent at portraying the romantic tension between her heroes and heroines, and she manages to write explicitly but beautifully about sex as well as love.”—\u003ci\u003eMilwaukee Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Coulter instinctively feeds our desire to believe in knights in shining armor and everlasting love—historical romance at its finest.”—BookReporter.com\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the genre’s great storytellers.”—\u003ci\u003eKansas City Star\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“One of the masters of the genre.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Newark Star-Ledger\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Catherine Coulter is one of the best authors of exciting thrillers writing today.”—\u003ci\u003eMidwest Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eCatherine Coulter\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the FBI Thrillers featuring husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. She is also the author—with J. T. Ellison—of the Brit in the FBI series. She lives in Sausalito, California.London 1811\u003cp\u003eMay 14\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJust before midnight LORD BEECHAM STOPPED\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edead in his tracks. He turned around so quickly that he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enearly tripped over a huge potted palm.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe couldn’t believe it. He had to be wrong. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecouldn’t have said that, could she? He looked for the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewoman he had just heard speaking.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe parted two huge palm fronds and peered into the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSanderling’s library, a long, narrow, shelf-lined room just\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoff the ballroom. Where the library was filled with darkbound\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etomes, cobwebs in gloomy corners, and just one\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmall branch of candles casting shadows, the ballroom\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas overflowing with lit candles, plants, and at least two\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehundred guests, all of them laughing, dancing, and drinking\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etoo much of the potent champagne punch.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe woman he had heard before spoke again. He took\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e2 Catherine Coulter\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea step closer to the dimly lit library. Her voice was rich,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etantalizing, filled with laughter. “Really, Alexandra,” she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esaid, “doesn’t just the simple thought of discipline, just\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehearing the word, saying it slowly to yourself and letting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit caress your tongue as you say it, doesn’t it conjure up\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eall sorts of delicious scenes of dominance? Can’t you just\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esee yourself? You are completely at the mercy of another,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat person is in total control, and there is nothing you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecan do about anything. You know something is going to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehappen, you’re dreading it, your heart is pounding, you’re\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eafraid, so very afraid, yet it’s a delicious sort of fear you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efeel. You know, deep down, that you are anticipating what\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis to come. You can’t wait for it to come, but there is\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enothing you can do except imagine what will be done to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou. Ah, yes, your skin is rippling with the excitement of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere was dead silence. Wait, was that heavy breathing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe heard?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham, whose very active imagination had conjured\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eup a vision of himself standing over a beautiful\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewoman, smiling down at her as he tied her hands over her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehead and her legs, spread, to the posts of his bed, knowing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat in just a few minutes, he would remove her clothing,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eone lovely garment at a time, slowly, ever so slowly,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, goodness, Helen. I have to fan myself. I believe\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy bosom is palpitating. You are far too good at painting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eword pictures. What you describe—it sounds terrifying\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand wonderful. It rather makes my mouth water. It also\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esounds like a grand production that requires a lot of planning.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, yes, but that is part of the ritual. It is very important\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat it be planned perfectly. You are part of the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eritual, the most important part, if you are the one in control.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt requires that you be constantly inventive, that you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edon’t continue to rely on the same old disciplines. Remember,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanticipation of something unknown is a very\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTHE COURTSHIP 3\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epowerful thing. To be effective, discipline must constantly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egrow and change. In most cases, it is effective to have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eother people nearby to witness the discipline. This makes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe recipient all the more frightened, his senses more\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eheightened, his thoughts more focused. It is an amazing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eprocess. You will have to try it. Both sides of it.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMore deep silence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTry it? He wanted to run into that room this very instant\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand try everything he could possibly envision or dream\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout. His fingers were already on his cravat, ready to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ejerk it off so he could tie the wrists of the woman speaking,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etogether over her head, so she would be helpless, her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeyes large and frightened and excited as she stared up at\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim, her lips parted. Damnation, he had only one cravat,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe one he was wearing. He needed at least two. He shuddered,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eimagining the smooth flesh of her wrists as he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elightly wrapped the cravat around and around them, then\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epulled them bound, over her head—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe heard a deep sigh.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“All of that is well and good, Helen, but what I need\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eare specific disciplines to try. A list of disciplines, if you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewill. From mild disciplines to the most rigorous.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe realized suddenly that he knew that voice. Good\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGod, it was Alexandra Sherbrooke. He couldn’t believe\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit. On second thought, he pictured Douglas Sherbrooke in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis mind’s eye, that big, hard man who had reputedly kept\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis wife happy for eight whole years now. And Alexandra\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewanted to know about discipline? To try on her husband?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat a delightfully wicked idea.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWho was the woman speaking to her, this Helen?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“On the other hand,” Alexandra said after a moment,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I would like to know how you know so very much about\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ediscipline.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I have read every book, every article, every paper—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eboth scholarly and secular—ever penned on the subject.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI have seen every painting, etching, and drawing of disciplines\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eemployed throughout the world and throughout\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe ages. Now, the disciplines in China—goodness, talk\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout inventive. The drawings show that the Chinese are\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexceedingly flexible.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA bit more silence, then Alexandra said, her voice lowered\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea bit, as if she were leaning closer to this other\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewoman, speaking in confidence, but he could still make\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eout her words. “Helen, you are laughing at me. All right,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI accept that you know all about discipline. Now, you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emust force yourself to come to my level. You have told\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eme how you discipline your servants. You have told me\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout the ritual, how to build to a climax, how to squeeze\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eout every tantalizing drop of fear and excitement during\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe discipline to achieve the result you wish.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Now I want to go directly to the extreme pleasure end\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof things. I want specifics. I am talking about physical\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epleasure, Helen. I want to know exactly what you would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edo to a man to drive him to the brink of madness. Since\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou have read every tome written about the subject, you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emust know something that would help me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham would not have moved if a beautiful\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewoman had stripped naked in front of him and started\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ekissing him. Now this was a kicker. Alexandra Sherbrooke\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewanted to know how to drive Douglas to the brink\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof madness? That made no sense. Driving a man like\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDouglas to the brink would require very little effort on\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher part. It would probably require an effort of ten seconds,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eno more. Actually, any man who was still breathing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas a suitable candidate. He himself, for example.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSuddenly it simply became too much. He was eavesdropping\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon two ladies discussing discipline, for God’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esake. He was lurking there behind a palm, listening to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethem, sweating, and ready to remove his cravat. It was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot to be borne. Lord Beecham couldn’t hold it back. It\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ejust burst from his mouth. He laughed—something he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t normally do because he was, after all, a man of the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eworld; a lazy nod or a slightly contemptuous snicker was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eusually more fitting. And so what poured out of his mouth\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTHE COURTSHIP 5\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esounded a bit rusty, perhaps a tad hoarse to the casual ear,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut it was a laugh, a good strong laugh, and it just kept\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erolling out of him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe realized they could hear him. That would never do.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe tried so hard to stop laughing that he hiccupped. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eclapped his hand over his mouth and quickly slipped behind\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eanother giant palm tree. And none too soon.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I know I heard someone, Helen. It was a man and he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas laughing. Oh, dear, you don’t think it was Douglas,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edo you? No, Douglas would come right in here and laugh\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein our faces. Then he would look at me with a smile in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis eyes and tell me to forget the thought of disciplining\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim, that he is in charge. I am tired of his controlling\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeverything. Eight years is a long time, Helen. I want to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emake him wild first, for once.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well, that can’t be too difficult. Simply distract him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen he is reading the Gazette. Start nuzzling his ear,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ekiss his neck, bite him. Why haven’t you done this already?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDead silence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, dear, you are scarlet to your hairline, Alexandra.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I have bitten him, Helen, I have. My bites simply take\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eplace in a different context. There is no Gazette lying\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“A context that Douglas has provided?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes. You know, it’s just that Douglas has only to look\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eat me, perhaps give me a small touch anywhere with his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehand or his mouth, and I lose every shred of thought. I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epuddle right on the floor, directly in front of him. It just\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edoes not stop, Helen. Help me. Oh, dear, what if he is out\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere, listening? Now he knows what power he wields\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eover me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Trust me, he already knows. Now, you’re right, of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecourse. If it had been Douglas, he would be standing right\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein front of us, laughing his head off. But then, perhaps he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould have let you lead him off to begin disciplining him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethis very night—that is, if he didn’t decide to discipline\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou first.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlexandra sighed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Goodness, you mean it? You’re serious here, Alexandra?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDoesn’t Douglas ever let you have control? Eight\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyears of one-sided marital sorts of things? From everything\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’ve read, this isn’t good. The Italians, especially,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebelieve that participation in lovemaking should be balanced.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou must pull yourself together.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“It’s difficult once Douglas turns his attention on me. I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould like to read what the Italians have to say about\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethis.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I will lend you a treatise on it. Now, you cannot allow\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDouglas always to discipline you first. You must focus\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyour mind, Alexandra.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlexandra’s eyes nearly crossed. She shuddered delicately.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Douglas has never said anything at all about discipline.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’m sure he’s never done any to me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen laughed and patted her cheek. “From everything\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI’ve read, I’ll wager Douglas already performs a lover’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estandard discipline on you and you don’t even realize it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou’re just having fun.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Do you really think so? I wonder what specific sorts\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof things that Douglas enjoys with me one could call discipline?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePerhaps I shall ask him.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Or perhaps not, at least not yet.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Whatever he does, it’s true that I do sometimes forget\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto think,” Alexandra said, then squared her shoulders, “but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat’s another problem, one I will have to solve.” Her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshoulders squared even more and her magnificent bosom\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eachieved new prominence. “I will have to learn how to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eretain my own control if I want to have a chance of controlling\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDouglas. I will have to have a specific goal in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emind, a course that I will have to follow. I will get the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eupper hand of Douglas. The brink of madness—yes, Helen,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat is where I want to dispatch Douglas. You must\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etell me specifically what I am to do.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen looked down at her fingernails a moment. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknew she should keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehelp herself. She said on a deep, wistful sigh, overflowing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith exquisite memories, knowing that Alexandra would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebe enraged within moments, “Ah, even when I was fifteen\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand I first saw Douglas and fell in love with him, I knew\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einstinctively that he wouldn’t be a clod. I knew he would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexcel, and I wanted to be the female he chose to excel\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eupon. Such a pity that it wasn’t meant to be.” She sighed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eagain, a sad, forlorn sigh.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen watched beneath her lashes as Alexandra’s eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enarrowed remarkably, and her voice turned mean and low.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Helen, I will not tell you again. You will forget those\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eearly years of infatuation with Douglas. You will forget\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethose tender feelings you cherished for him when you\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere too young to realize what was what.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes,” Helen said at her most humble, her head bent\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto show how contrite she was, “I will try.” She hoped\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlexandra couldn’t hear the laughter in her voice.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham heard the laughter. And then he realized\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat here he was, a man of immense savoir faire, hiding\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebehind huge green palm fronds, hanging on these\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewomen’s every word. He hadn’t yet seen the disciplinarian,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut he could see Alexandra Sherbrooke now. She was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elooking around, just a bit apprehensively, her fingers\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esplayed over her incredible bosom. It was too bad Douglas\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003einsisted she keep all that lovely white flesh more covered\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethan not. It wasn’t at all the style. God gave women bosoms\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto flaunt, and every woman he knew flaunted, except\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAlexandra Sherbrooke. Everyone had seen Douglas drag\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis wife into a corner from time to time to pull up her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebodice if he thought there was too much white flesh showing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA pity.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham loved breasts: bountiful breasts like Alexandra’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat would overflow a man’s hands, small\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebreasts that were ripe and sweet, breasts pushed up to be\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elovingly framed by a gown’s satin and lace. He loved to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebury his face in a woman’s breasts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe got hold of himself. Who was the other woman, the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eself-proclaimed mistress of discipline? He knew only that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher name was Helen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham was not normally a skulker, but he had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto know who she was. He waited, veiled by the palm\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efronds, until, finally, the two ladies came out of the Sanderling’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elibrary.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe nearly dropped his glass of champagne when he saw\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen. She was the woman he had seen riding in the park\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith Douglas. He remembered remarking to himself then\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat he wanted a better look at her. Now he was getting\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit. She had to be nearly as tall as he was, but there all\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eresemblance between them ended. His imagination soared\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto Mount Olympus for suitable comparisons. She was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esculpted like a goddess, statuesque and beautifully curved,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eskin so white it was alabaster, and her hair—surely even\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egoddesses didn’t have hair like that, thick and pure blond\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith no hints of gold or red. She wore it twisted atop her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehead, making her appear even taller, with long, lazy curls\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecaressing the white flesh of her shoulders. Her eyes were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebluer than Aphrodite’s, her smile so charming, so utterly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eseductive, it could have belonged to Helen of Troy. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould wager that this new Helen could launch even more\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eships.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham had just lost his wits. Frankly, his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eliterary-inspired imagination had made him produce tripe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was a woman, just a woman, and her name was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen. She might be on the magnificent side, but she was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estill only a woman, nothing more, nothing less. He had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eseen women who were more beautiful, had bedded\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewomen who were more beautiful. She was not a goddess,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot even close to a siren of myth. She was just a very big\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egirl who happened to have very nice hair of a shade that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esparked poetry in a man’s soul. And she had spoken authoritatively\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof discipline.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAll other things being equal, she was a man’s dream.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe watched Helen and Alexandra walk away from him,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edown the corridor to the ballroom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe wasn’t a young, untried girl of eighteen either,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enewly released from the schoolroom to prey upon the hapless\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebachelors of London. No, she had been released a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egoodly number of years ago, which meant she was well\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emarried and knew exactly what was what—and that was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esurely an utterly excellent thing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe had always preferred married women. What man\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t? They were safe. They wanted what he wanted—\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea bit of excitement, a bit of warmth, a new companion to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eadd spice and passion. They didn’t usually whine or carp\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen he was ready to move on. He did not have to worry\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout their husbands, most of whom were his friends and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho bedded other friends’ wives just as he did. Many men\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand women were not discreet, and that sometimes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estretched civilized manners to the limit. Lord Beecham,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehowever, never spoke of his conquests. There wasn’t any\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eneed to even if he had been inclined to bray and brag.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor some reason, he could not escape the gossips, no matter\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehow silent he remained.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe tossed down the rest of his champagne as the two\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewomen disappeared from his view back into the ballroom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe rubbed his hands together.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHelen was a very big girl. He spread his fingers out.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe thought of her breasts. Were his hands big enough for\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher? Oh, yes, he thought, his hands would make do quite\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enicely. He looked at his hands, pictured her breasts, and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknew that if he had been speaking just then, he would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edoubtless have been stuttering.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhy were they talking about discipline? His flesh rippled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe pictured Helen on her back, her white arms\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epulled above her head, her wrists tied with two of his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esoftest cravats to the posts at the head of his bed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA woman who was well versed in the art of discipline?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe had read everything ever written about it? Had she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ealso employed everything she had learned? Had it all been\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eemployed upon her? It was a heady thought, one that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emade him swallow a bit convulsively.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen he reached the ballroom he looked and looked,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut the big girl was gone.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe wasn’t worried. He would simply call upon Alexandra\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand, with his exquisite finesse, discover Helen’s address\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand the name of her husband.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe hoped Alexandra would cooperate. He had stopped\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etrying to seduce her at least six years ago, when one evening\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein the midst of one of his more effective offerings\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe laughed at him. It had wounded him greatly. He was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea renowned lover—at least that was what the gossips were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ealways saying.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut in the end, he quite liked Alexandra Sherbrooke,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edespite her appalling preference for only her husband in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher bed. He liked her husband as well, all the more so\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eonce Douglas determined he wouldn’t have to kill him for\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etrying to seduce his wife. It was nothing more than attempted\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epoaching, and that, Douglas had told him some\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyears before, he would let slide. Thank the heavens that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere were not all that many couples like the Sherbrookes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein London.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eExactly what did the big girl know about discipline?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike Alexandra, he wanted specifics. He couldn’t wait to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efind out. Other than her far-flung reading, had her husband\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etaught her? Or a lover?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham wanted her in his bed, and he wanted\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher there very soon. He would be a lover who would teach\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher something altogether new about discipline. He would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etake his fill of her and when they eventually parted, she\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould never forget him. Whenever she spoke of discipline\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eafter her time with him, she would remember him, and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmile.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe rubbed his hands together in anticipation even as he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewondered if her hair was long enough to fall over her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshoulders and curl lazily around her breasts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Beecham was a man with a very detailed imagination.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe saw her beneath him, all of her, stretched out,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmiling up at him, and her hands were busy, very busy.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was forced once again to swallow. He would bed her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esoon. Very soon.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTomorrow night would fit nicely into his schedule.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis fingers clenched at the emerging picture in his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emind, a very big picture.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo much white canvas.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46301506535653,"sku":"NP9780515127218","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780515127218.jpg?v=1742924400","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-courtship-isbn-9780515127218","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}