“Robert Alcott was a major investor in Alasdair’s first railway, if I’m not mistaken.” “Sorry, ma’am, but there’s no connection.” Olivia’s fair skin was flushed, though whether with excitement, embarrassment, or a mixture, Andrew couldn’t decide. She certainly looked ravishing in the burgundy velvet gown he’d chosen for her, despite the fact that it was off the rack. The newly electrified sconces kindled red-gold sparks in the nut-brown curls piled above her forehead. Teardrop pearls dangled from her earlobes. A matching choker circled her throat and drew the eye to her flawless décolletage. Almost like a slave’s collar. She shifted in her chair, making him smile. It was likely that she was feeling the effects of the spanking he’d delivered later that afternoon, after they’d both recovered from their initial crises. He’d brought her to climax twice more while she’d been stretched across his lap, but he hadn’t yet been inside the juicy cleft that clung so eagerly to his probing fingers.
