Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994


Please be aware that this excerpt contains sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios

A Gentlewoman's Quartet - click for larger versionBlurb

Enter the naughty world of The Ladies' Sewing Circle, where Victorian sensuality is simmering just under the surface…

In A Gentlewoman's Predicament, Sofia Harewood is determined to discover all there is to know about lovemaking, and finds it in the form of the sexy and mysterious MonsieurChamfleur, who introduces her to a whole new world of wicked delights.

In A Gentlewoman's Ravishment, Mrs. Prudence Enderby has erotic daydreams about being abducted and ravished by a man other than her husband, but never imagines her private fantasies will be brought to life by a masked man who whisks her off to a boudoir.

In A Gentlewoman's Pleasure, Miss Lucy Dawson has all but given up hope of experiencing the full pleasure of lovemaking, until she encounters a tantalizing stranger who reawakens her desires.

In A Gentlewoman's Dalliance, Mary Brigstock confesses she wants her husband to spank her, and an expert disciplinarian arrives to show them how to turn their wicked fantasy into a reality.

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Don't miss In the Flesh, in which Ladies' Sewing Circle member Beatrice Weatherley accepts an indecent proposal from wealthy sensualist Edmund Ellsworth Ritchie.

And in Diamonds in the Rough, the artist of the Ladies' Sewing Circle, Adela Ruffington, becomes involved in a fierce erotic duel with her handsome and brilliant distant cousin Wilson. Find out who will win!

Excerpt from A Gentlewoman's Predicament

Denuded down to my corset and bustle, I shudder and sway as if in a fever – especially when Ambrose slides his fingers down my throat and across my bosom and beneath the edge of the sternly laced garment.

“Dear God, this is like armor! How can women possibly feel free and experience pleasure while trussed up in monstrosities like this? I suggest that when you get home, you fling it on the fire.”

Before I can protest, he and Clarence attack the garment that offends him so. Bustle dispensed with, two pairs of extraordinarily deft male hands negotiate the corset’s hooks and lacing, and within the wink of an eye, Ambrose flings the entire construction across the room in disgust.

“There, that’s better.”

I gasp as his whole hand settles lightly on my breast, through my chemise. He cups the soft orb with a delicate touch, his fingers curving and caressing. I stand like a statue, shaking and confused in my just the chemise, my drawers and my stockings. The heat of the softly glowing fire is like a caress too, warming me through my linen. A hot blush surges through my skin and through my veins. Between my legs, I feel a pulse, slow and liquid.

“You’re very beautiful, my dear,” whispers Ambrose, hand still upon me, “But you’re a modest young woman and I know all this is new to you.” His mouth is so close to my cheek that I almost imagine he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t. “Perhaps you’d like to retain your undergarments for the moment, to spare your blushes?”

Spare them? Too late for that. My entire body is in a state of conflagration. He’s barely touched me but I’m an inferno down below.

“Come along, Mrs. Harewood. Let’s get you settled comfortably on the chaise.”

Like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter, I let him lead me to the plush, upholstered couch and help me up onto it. As I settle into place, not knowing what to expect, I close my eyes. And as I prepare to meet my fate, Clarence’s skillful fingers ease the pins from my hair and fan it out across the cushions. All the while, Ambrose lightly strokes my hand.

What am I doing here? Why am I allowing these two men that are scarcely even acquaintances make free with my clothing and my body? I must have lost my wits or the Madeira was drugged.

But I know that’s not so. And I know this is what I’ve wanted for a long time. The thing I knew existed but was missing from my life.

When my pulses have settled, and I’ve calmed a little, Ambrose releases my hand and gets straight down to business. Slowly, seductively, he strokes my cheek, then my chin, then my throat. A moment later, he’s at the tiny silk ribbons that fasten the front of my chemise, undoing them swiftly.

Without speaking, he folds the soft fabric aside and exposes my pale body to his gaze, and to Clarence’s.

When he touches me, really touches me, I cry out like a child, and instantly Clarence is at my head, stroking my hair like a skilled groom calming a skittish pony. He murmurs to me, “There, there…” while Ambrose handles my breasts, gently fondling and cupping and kneading.

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Publication Date: Mar 2013
Copyright © 2013 by Portia Da Costa
Harlequin Mills & Boon book covers © Copyright 2008-2013
by Harlequin Books, S.A.
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The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.