Part 38 (1/2)
She lowered her eyebrow. She wondered how S0ren would feel about her showing off her bruises to Kingsley. Only one way to find out.
She threw her backpack on the floor and shrugged out of her coat.
”On the way back from the funeral, S0ren told me you used to be in the French Foreign Legion.”
”I was a captain, oui.”
”So maybe you can answer a question for me.”
”What's the question?”
She unlaced her boots and kicked them off. He wanted to see the bruises on her thighs, so she'd have to take her shoes and tights off under her skirt. Luckily the cold weather gave her an excuse to keep every bruise covered and then some. So if Kingsley wanted to see her bruises, she'd have to strip. She yanked off her tights and stuck her foot in Kingsley's lap.
”Do I have trench foot?”
Kingsley grabbed her leg by the ankle and raised her foot off his lap. He ran a finger down the arch of her foot.
”You have one blister, not trench foot. Stop wearing combat boots without socks.”
”Thank you. I was worried we might have to amputate.”
She placed her bare feet back on the floor, grateful Kingsley kept the Rolls warm and toasty. He must be feeling overly warm in his suit as he, too, started to remove his jacket.
”I can't believe I'm doing this,” she said.
”Taking your clothes off for me in the back of my Rolls-Royce?”
”That.” She unb.u.t.toned her s.h.i.+rt.
”Get used to it.”
She turned her back to him and lowered her s.h.i.+rt. Kingsley moved to sit behind her on her seat. His surprisingly gentle fingers traced the outline of the bruises that dotted her skin. His touch on her body made her feel treacherous sorts of things in her stomach and a little lower.
”Where else?” he asked.
She pulled her s.h.i.+rt back up and turned around. Feeling obnoxious, she threw her leg over his thighs and raised her skirt.
”Glad I shaved my legs this morning,” she said as she displayed the bruises on her upper thighs.
”So am I.”
”So you shaved your legs, too?” She pushed her skirt back down and put her feet on the floor once more.
He narrowed his eyes at her as she b.u.t.toned her s.h.i.+rt back up.
”You're intelligent.”
”You say that like it's a bad thing.” She put her boots back on and left her tights off. She'd worry about her trench foot later.
”Intelligence is dangerous in a woman. Next thing we know you'll say that marriage is a trap that tricks women into becoming unpaid cooks and housekeepers.”
”Even if I were stupid I'd be smart enough to know that.”
She turned to face him, pulling her legs into the seat cross-legged. She had a feeling he could see her underwear from this angle but for some reason she really didn't care. If S0ren trusted Kingsley, she would, too.
”You're an interesting young woman. I thought he was out of his mind when he first told me about you.”
”What did he tell you about me?”
”Nothing I'll tell you. What is important is that you're here now, and there are things you should know.”
”I want to know everything.”
”As soon as you turn eighteen, I'll take you to a club.”
”Why eighteen?”
”Because you have to be eighteen to enter BDSM clubs in this state.”
”Yes, I can see you're a law-abiding citizen. I've been in your house, remember?”
”You came uninvited.”
”You were having an orgy that involved people betting money on s.e.x.”
”A friendly gentleman's wager. I never play, though.”
”Why not?”
”No fun in it. I always win.”
”I heard some rumors you were good in bed.”
Kingsley plucked a nonexistent thread off his trousers and smiled at something out the window.
”If I were you, I would believe them.”
The casual confidence in Kingsley's tone made something twitch inside Eleanor.
”I want to believe them.”
”I would take you to a club right now and prove it to you if I could. I am under orders at the moment. Je suis desole.”
”Blondie won't let me play yet?”
”Not at a club.”
She heard something in his voice-a hint.
”S0ren said you weren't allowed to take me a kink club.”