Victorian Lady Detective: Margaret Loves, Honors And Disobeys (Victorian Lady Detective, #2) (ePub)

A year after the daring 1855 theft of £12,000 worth of gold from the Folkestone train, the London Detectives have no suspects and no clues to follow.  The politically embarrassed Chief of London Detectives turns to his skilled asset, Margaret Stuart, to bring her unique talents to bare upon the case.  With an encouraging spanking behind her, Margaret quickly warms the cold case when the trail leads to an old foe.  Whether it is her heels or her derriere in the air, she does her best work while lying down on the job.  Margaret quickly turns the other cheek and her man gets her in the end.

This fast pace novella contains the history, mystery and romance in the Victorian age, and is a sequel to Miss Rowan Learns Her Lesson.

Excerpt:

"Humm," he again responds to my non-answer, but presses no further.  He would need very strong evidence to even hint at the guilt of a member of the Royal Family.  Not that the Royals were above the law or unlikely to commit murder.  On the contrary, Royals had murdered many times in the past and occasionally had even been convicted.  Nonetheless, Henry would not mention Lord Derby as a suspect without firm evidence.  "Margaret, I am not married anymore" he changes the subject.  "My wife divorced me several years ago and married another," he concludes and looks for a hint of my intention to appear in my face.
"I see."  I look down into my glass as I take a sip of wine to conceal my blush.
"I have two sons, but they are grown and living their own lives."
"Indeed," I repeat and force my eyes to join with his. I let my fingers again caress his palm to provide the signal that he seeks.
Once we return to our room I make no pretense at bashfulness, though I do turn my back to him as my face is surely blushed while I undress.  Wearing only my drawers, I pull my nightdress over my head.  When I turn to face him and pull the covers from the bed he is standing wearing only his drawers.  The swelling that can be nothing other than his cock bulges against the thin fabric.
"I didn't bring any night clothes," he explains.
"I see.  You may certainly sleep in any manner that you find most comfortable," I say and then avert my eyes.  However, I use the reflection of a mirror to watch as he unties and removes his drawers.  His manhood swells from the curly back hair at the bottom of his belly.  I lay into the bed and pull the covers about me as I press my back towards him.  I will wait and see what he decides to do, but my cunny already knows what she wants to do.
He extinguishes the light and slides into the bed.  In a moment his hand caresses my shoulder and then brushes my hair from my neck.  His mustache tickles as he kisses the back of my neck.  I make no protest as his arm encircles my waist and he pulls me close to him.  The firmness of his manhood presses against my bottom.
"I've not had a man in over two years," I whisper as his fingers trace down my thigh in search of the hem of my nightdress.
"I hope that you will find the wait worthwhile," are the last words he says to me.