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Lara stirred, and mumbled sleepily, “Anton, stop it.”

“No, darling,” Helena responded softly. “Here, roll over. To your back, please. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Gently easing the other woman into a prone position, Helena pushed her legs apart slightly for better access, fondling her sex.

Lara’s eyelids began to flutter in surprise as she struggled to wake, a sigh escaping her lips as Helena stroked her intimately.

At full mast already, his shaft hard and heavy, Anton continued to undress slowly as Lara finally wakened fully and came to the confused realization over who was touching her. Her gaze flew around the room and fastened on him in the act of taking off his trousers, seeing his erection with widening eyes, then looking back at the woman with her on the bed. “Helena.” She gasped.

Anton smiled darkly, walking toward the bed. “Do not forget, I am here too, my sweet.”

This wasn’t particularly fair, was Lara’s first thought. She was at a distinct disadvantage, only half-awake and not given a choice. Both of the other people in the room were looking at her with undisguised hunger and already naked and aroused.

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“Just relax,” Helena, next to her on one elbow, urged softly. “You are so warm and beautiful. Like wet velvet. I can feel your nub is swelling already. Touching you is so arousing for me, you have no idea. Doesn’t this feel good?”

Lara shut her eyes briefly and swallowed, only too aware of Helena’s hand between her legs. “I…I don’t know.” The truth was, the woman caressing her seemed to know exactly where to touch and how much pressure to use. She felt herself softening, her labia swelling at the erotic friction, her thighs involuntarily falling farther apart even though she found it embarrassing to be touched in such a way by another woman, especially with her lover watching with such a heavy, dark stare.

“Surely you do,” Helena gently chided, her brown eyes alight, her hand moving rhythmically. “Now, don’t tighten or become selfconscious. I want to give you pleasure and Anton feels the same way…let us use your body as we will, and you won’t regret it.”

“You make me sound like some sort of toy,” she protested, but she knew she was weakening, pleasure beginning to weigh her limbs.

She was getting wet, too, moisture beginning to weep from her cleft.

“The most perfect one possible,” Anton murmured, sitting down on the other side of her, opposite Helena. Gently, he pulled her sheer chemise upward, and off over her head, tossing it away. Cupping her breasts in both hands, his thumbs grazed over her nipples and they hardened instantly, a jolt of sensation going straight to that sensitive spot between her legs.

A low moan locked in her throat as he began to play with her breasts and Helena continued to circle the small bud that defined her desire, Lara let her lashes drift shut, her breathing growing uneven.

Anton leaned forward to kiss her, his mouth firm and warm, and everywhere it felt like there were hands touching her, gliding over her skin, exploring her dips and hollows as Helena brought her inexorably to climax.

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It happened almost against her will, the hot rush into her cleft making her release a small cry and arch into that relentless caress, her body shuddering as Anton leisurely suckled one erect nipple, heightening the ecstasy.

Had she not already been flushed, she would have been blushing furiously anyway when it was over. Helena laughed with her signature richness, a breathless note in her voice as she said, “That’s a good start, I think…God, you are beautiful when you come. Lara, please, I want to kiss you.”

Anton moved obligingly away and all at once Helena was urging her close, into her arms so their breasts were pressed together, and their legs entangled as she slipped one leg between Lara’s open thighs. It was distinctly odd to see the same shimmering need in Helena’s brown eyes that shone in Anton’s heated stare, and even more disconcerting when her mouth touched hers, parting her lips.

Passive, allowing the kiss, Lara was a little surprised to find she wasn’t repulsed, but did enjoy the smooth femininity of the woman embracing her, her breasts warm and rounded, her mouth silky and the exploration of her tongue gentle. Not exactly participating but not objecting either, she let Helena do whatever she wanted, their kisses punctuated by Helena’s murmured compliments and reverent caresses. When she rubbed her crotch against her thigh, Lara felt the wetness between Helena’s long legs and her nipples were pebbled and hard.

Helena finally, breathlessly lifted her head, glancing to where Anton had settled back in the bed, lying next to them and braced back against the pillows, merely watching the byplay. “Good God, Roussel, the rumors do not exaggerate. You have the biggest cock I have ever seen.” A small smile twitched her lips. “Very impressive if, of course, one likes that sort of thing. Right now, it looks as if you could use some…relief, I know I could. Would you care for a turn? I will take care of myself.”

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“My desire for Lara is a permanent thing, I have found, but of course, I will gallantly cooperate.” His grin was wickedly and openly carnal. “Henri would have my head if I let you expire from denial.”

They both shifted, Helena falling back, Anton suddenly looming over Lara, kneeling between her legs, pushing them farther apart with his knees. His long fingers probed, finding her female entrance and she took in a breath at that light practiced touch, two fingers sliding inside her. Helena was right, his erection was magnificent as always, pulsing against his stomach, his testicles high and full. “Wet and ready,” he murmured, “how convenient.”

Removing his hand, he moved forward and entered her swiftly, with one hard thrust. Lara gasped and threw her head back, her hands flying to his broad shoulders. He pumped into her with long steady strokes, the sensation incredible as her passage stretched and tingled at each invasion and withdrawal. Lara lifted her hips to meet him, feeling so at one that they could be the same needy creature, climbing to a common goal of tremendous and explosive pleasure.

Lara moaned, supplicant, accepting, rising against his body, her legs around his waist to allow the deepest penetration. Anton gazed into her eyes, his dark hair disheveled against his taut neck, as if willing her to know it was him possessing her. The expression on his face was a mixture of tenderness and unmitigated lust, a half-smile on his beautiful mouth.

Lara gazed back, willing him to see the love in her eyes even as the gale force of her orgasm hurtled through her body, a low scream ringing out as she convulsed, her hands gripping him frantically as if he was the port in the glorious storm seizing her body.

He surged at the same time with a low groan, stiffening and filling her with hot fluid, bracing his weight off her body as he pressed his face against her neck and pulsed inside her body time and again. His chest heaved against her bare breasts.

Next to them, Lara vaguely heard Helena moan in climax, her hand between her legs. “Oh, yes, yes.”

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She’d almost forgotten Helena was there, Lara realized ruefully, her arms around Anton’s lean body, wanting to keep him inside her.

Actually, if she were honest with herself, wanting to keep him forever.

Anton lounged back contentedly on the pillows, one arm around the woman breathing so quietly next to him, his free hand touching the silken strands of her hair, lifting it so it spilled over his chest.

Across the room, Helena had finished dressing and now fussed with her hair, trying to weave it into an acceptable knot. “Oh bother,”

she said finally, turning from the glass and laughing in her audacious manner. “I don’t care if I look a sight. This afternoon has been wonderful…I feel marvelously…sated. Good heavens, is she asleep again? She already napped earlier.”

Gorgeously nude and completely lax against him, Lara breathed regular and soft. With quiet amusement, he said, “Can you blame her?

That was hours ago. I believe we wore her out.”

Despite an afternoon of sexual excess, Helena’s gaze narrowed in undisguised appreciation for the woman sleeping next to him. “It’s not quite fair to the rest of us females. She’s too perfect. She even sleeps beautifully. I snore and wake up puffy and in a mess.”

“She is beautiful inside, as well.” After a short hesitation, he said, “Actually, I am wondering if she could be carrying my child. She says her cycles are not regular, but we have been lovers for over two months now and her flux has not come. There are other signs too. She has been ill once or twice during the mornings lately, and fatigued beyond what seems natural for her. What’s more, she nearly swooned the other day after standing up quickly.”

“I am sure you are pleased at the notion.” Helena’s mouth curved, her gaze clearly wistful. “You should see yourself when you look at her, Anton. The way you make love to her is beyond description; the

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two you entwined and in tune, the expression on your face the subject matter of thousands of poems and ballads, all of them about true love.

I think you must face the fact that she has captured your heart.”

“If she proves to be pregnant, I will marry her.”

Disgustedly, Helena shook her head. “Men are so stupid, no wonder I prefer women. Marry her anyway or be the biggest fool on earth. One does not always find that person who stirs both our desires and our hearts. Look at me. I love Henri, but not in the same way he loves me. We are soul mates, but not bedmates. Yes, we have fashioned a certain happiness and contentment, but did I not just spend all afternoon with another lover? Lara would not stray from you, she wants no other.

“Anyone can receive pleasure from a practiced touch, but she wouldn’t seek me out, or anyone else. She loves you and loves making love with you. That is enough for any woman. You will be her life—you and your children, if you are so blessed. Trust me on this, marry her quickly and spend your life trying to be worthy of her.”

Not certain if he should be entertained or moved by such an impassioned speech, Anton opened his mouth to reply, then shut it, simply lifting his brows.

The woman across the room smiled, a hint of resignation in her expression. “Do not worry, I will not implore you for another session as this afternoon. She did it because you requested it, and I know she enjoyed it to a certain extent, but I was simply an extra on the stage, not a star in the play. Your passion simmers like a hot summer afternoon and all you need in that bed is the two of you. However, I am grateful and will always remember it.” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “Of course, you will have to forgive me if I use the future
comtesse
in my fantasies, Anton. I know you agree, she is incomparable.”

He said softly, “Yes, I do know. I have used that word myself to describe her.”

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He she reached for another pastry, Lara couldn’t help but notice the amused expression on Anton’s face. “I’m starving,” she said defensively, then sighing, she conceded, “It is my third one, I suppose.”

“By the time you have this child, you’ll be too large for me to carry you upstairs and ravish you.”

Frozen with the sweet halfway to her mouth, Lara stared at the man sitting across from her at the breakfast table. She stammered, “You also think…that is…I have been praying it’s true.”

His smile was all lazy male grace, his dark eyes steady. “I am a worldly man, though I have never nurtured a pregnant lady before.

However, even if it weren’t for all the other signs, my sweet, you could rest assured I would notice that your breasts are getting larger and more sensitive. How could I not come to the same conclusion you have yourself? I suppose my only question is, why didn’t you say something to me?”

Her eyes filled suddenly with tears, the onslaught of emotion unsettling. “I didn’t dare to dream it. I was afraid if I said something, it would curse my hopes.”

In an instant, she found herself lifted and settled into his lap, enfolded in his arms, his mouth pressing against her temple as he cradled her tenderly. “
Our
hopes,” he corrected, whispering against her hair. “I have always been careful to make sure conception did not happen with other women. Perhaps, since I took no precautions from the beginning, I knew in some way how different my feelings were for you. So, you are happy about the baby?”

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“Infinitely, universally, and joyously happy,” Lara admitted, blinking her sticky lashes.

“It will have to be legitimate. I am Roussel,” he said authoritatively. “I do not run around siring bastards. My son will need my name and one day will have my titles and estates.”

Loving the secure feeling of being in his arms, Lara hiccupped a laugh. “Your son? I believe I would like a girl.”

He grinned, his eyes teasing. “I’ll indulge you and our second child can be a girl.” His expression softened at once. “You agree?

You’ll be my wife?”

“I agree,” she said instantly, wanting to admit she loved him, but not certain how to say it.

“You’ll be French.” He made a face. “Though I certainly have never met a Frenchwoman named Lara.”

“Monsieur de Comte!”

Not hearing anyone approach, the breathless interruption was a surprise. Lara glanced up and saw a disheveled young man, hatless, his jacket stained and mud covering his boots, dash onto the terrace.

In his trembling hand, he held an envelope. “I am sorry to interrupt,”

he mumbled almost incoherently, seeing Lara perched as she was in Anton’s lap, color coming into his face. “But I was told to give this to you at once. It’s about Pegasus.”

“What about him? He won yesterday, Bernard sent a messenger.”

Taking the missive as Lara stood and moved back to her own chair, Anton scanned the contents, the blood first draining out of his face, then two high spots of color coming back to stain his high cheekbones.