The Bachelor Bargain (Secrets, Scandals, and Spies)

by Michaels, Maddison

  “No.”

  Livie felt like bolting out of her chair and shaking the man. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean that Mr. Mooney will be getting none of my money. He’s a spineless coward, preying upon women, and you will not be giving him a penny of my blunt.”

  Livie was nearly speechless. “But you cannot be serious. We’ll lose our equipment if we don’t pay him.” Some of the equipment had been shipped from France and would not be easy to quickly replace.

  “I’m completely serious.” Sebastian crossed his hands over his chest.

  “Then you are reneging on our agreement?” A horrid sense of betrayal settled in her stomach.

  “I’m doing no such thing.”

  “Then do explain yourself, Mr. Colver, as my patience is wearing thin!”

  His lips twitched, and Livie got the distinct impression he was amused with her.

  “It’s back to Mr. Colver, is it?” he murmured, leaning toward her. “But I rather liked you calling me Sebastian.”

  There was such a wicked promise in his words that she felt her breath catch. But then she remembered how annoyed she was with him, so she crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Well? I’m waiting for an explanation.”

  He actually laughed. “You do have pluck, don’t you, my lady. To put your mind at ease, I’m not backing out of our agreement, but I will not have you extorted, either. I will send my men to pay Mr. Mooney a visit this morning, and they will ensure he is made well aware that you and your business are now under my protection. Then they shall relocate all of your equipment to one of my vacant warehouses, which can serve as your base of operations for the gazette. You shall never have to deal with the likes of Mr. Mooney again.”

  Livie didn’t quite know how to respond. The idea of not having to deal with Mr. Mooney and his unscrupulous demands was a relief, but at least with him she knew money would placate him. Whereas she doubted Sebastian Colver would be placated by anything unless he chose to be. And if he controlled their rental space, what was to stop him from becoming more involved in the gazette if he so chose?

  “I have no intention of interfering in your publication,” he drawled.

  She blinked. “Were my thoughts that obvious?”

  He winked at her. “Written all over your face, my dear.”

  “You’re not the first to tell me so.” Demelza was right, she really did need to work on that flaw. “But forgive me if I’m slightly dubious of your assurance you won’t interfere, when you yourself the other day confirmed you liked to play an active role in your investments. Have you not heard the phrase Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes? Beware—”

  “Of Greeks bringing gifts… Yes, I’m aware of the phrase.”

  “You speak Latin?” The man couldn’t have surprised her more.

  “My mother was a governess. Well, at least she was before she was thrown out into the streets, pregnant with me.” He shrugged. “She taught me what she could in between working fourteen hours a day at the cotton factory, and then darning socks and garments into the wee hours of the morning, all in an effort to keep us from starving.”

  Without thinking of the consequences, she reached out her gloved hand and placed it on top of his. “I’m so sorry that happened to her. To both of you…”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, making no move to remove her hand from his. “I had a different start in life than you. Clearly.” He laughed slightly. “But rest assured, you have nothing to fear, as I am not Greek.”

  They continued to stare at each other, and Livie could feel the heat radiating from his hand into her own. Quickly, she snatched her hand back and cleared her throat. Goodness, the carriage compartment suddenly felt stifling. She glanced out the window until she got her bearings—they were probably only five minutes to her residence. Thankfully. She didn’t know how much longer she could take being in such close confines with the man. He was playing havoc with her senses.

  “Where is this warehouse, then?” She would have to let Etta and their printer know of the change in plans. “And how much is the rent on the property?”

  “’Tis only a few blocks from my offices, hence safely within my territory, so there will be no unwarranted attention or trouble for you. And I shall lease it to you at half the rate Mr. Mooney was charging, yet it will be double the space.”

  “Half the rate?” She narrowed her eyes at him as thoughts of what he was up to engulfed her. “And what is expected of me, to obtain half the rate?”

  “I never should have made the suggestion of you providing me with some female companionship, should I?” He grinned. “I doubt you will ever forget it.”

  Livie pursed her lips at him. “It is the first, and I imagine last, proposition of its kind I shall receive. So yes, I will never forget it.”

  “Well, you can relax, my lady. I will charge you half, as to charge you full would be cutting into my own profits in the endeavor, which makes little sense.” Leaning across the small space, Sebastian took her hand in his and gently began to caress the top of her glove with his thumb. “You must trust me, at least a little, if we are to be successful partners in this endeavor.”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “So you will sign the contract then?”

  With his free hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. “I already have.”

  It appeared to be the contract she’d left him the other day. “The contract for the gazette? And you’re carrying it around with you?”

  “What can I say?” He shrugged one shoulder. “You’re very persuasive and my money was on you getting the Dragon Duchess’s agreement, though I did think it might take another day or two. Nevertheless, I brought it along with me, just in case. Nice to see my instincts are still guiding me well.”

  He held it out to her, but as she went to take it, he pulled it back.

  “I do have one last stipulation though,” he murmured, his thumb continuing to stroke along the top of her glove, sending jolts of energy through her arm.

  She knew she should stop him from touching her. It was highly scandalous, but it also felt so good, she simply didn’t want him to stop. “What is this last condition then?”

  “That we seal the deal with a kiss.”

  Chapter Eleven

  He wants to kiss me?

  The very thought made her legs as wobbly as Cook’s strawberry pudding. It was just as well she was sitting, or she would have melted into a puddle at his feet.

  The feelings he was eliciting in her were so foreign and unexpected that she had to grip ahold of her cane resting on the seat beside her as she struggled to maintain an air of nonchalance. “Do you seal all your deals, then, with a kiss? I imagine some of the gentlemen might find such a request awkward.”

  A wry grin spread over his face, and she thought he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever met.

  “You’re rather sassy for a duke’s daughter,” he replied. “And no, you are the first with whom I’ve suggested such a condition.”

  Of course, most ladies would probably be deterred by the scar running like a jagged wire across the lower half of his face, but to Livie it was a testament to his strength and determination.

  She, more than anyone, knew to look beyond the surface of others, and this man was dangerously magnificent. His eyes hadn’t left her own, and she could see the spark of a challenge within them as he sat a mere foot away, his thumb still caressing her hand. There was simply no chance of her thinking clearly while he continued touching her.

  But did she really want to think clearly in the face of such a bold proposal?

  “Very well,” she agreed, her voice sounding slightly breathless even to her own ears. “I agree to sealing our bargain with a kiss.”

  He cocked his head to the side, a definite expression of amused s
urprise on his visage. “You do?”

  Instinctively, she knew he’d expected her to turn him down. If kissing him meant obtaining the funds to get the gazette up and running, she would do what she must, to a point. Besides, what harm was there in a quick kiss?

  “Yes, I do.”

  She’d only ever been kissed once before, when she was eighteen and at her first official ball as a debutante. It had been a spectacular disaster. A press of sloppy, wet lips against her own that had lasted for but a few horrid seconds, and in the end had turned out to be nothing more than a dare a young gentleman had taken to kiss the Duke of Beresford’s lame daughter. Livie had mostly lost all interest in kissing anyone after that.

  Until now.

  Now there was something so wickedly thrilling about the thought of kissing Sebastian Colver that she was hard-pressed to keep her anticipation from showing. Because, somehow, she knew that his kiss would be neither wet nor sloppy. And for reasons she couldn’t understand, her body seemed to be craving his touch.

  “Then let us seal our bargain,” he replied. “But for the sake of there being honesty between us, I would have you know that once I claim something as mine, I never let it go.”

  “You may be agreeing to fund the gazette, Mr. Colver, but it is not yours.”

  “Perhaps I wasn’t talking about the gazette, Lady Olivia.”

  Then, before she knew what he was about, his hands circled her waist and he lifted her over onto his lap. She gasped at the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest and was lost when his mouth descended upon her own.

  His lips were firm but tender, slowly coaxing her to open for him. The stubble of his chin rubbed gently against her skin, rough but oh so thrilling, too. She couldn’t help a soft moan from escaping her mouth as a sensation of wanton wickedness stole through her. Then, when his tongue began to gently tease her own, she was lost, every single inch of her body vibrating with desire.

  His kiss was hot, heavy, and demanding. Nothing about it either wet or sloppy. This was a kiss from a man who knew what he was about. And Livie wanted more, so much more.

  The carriage coming to an abrupt halt jolted them both, and she scrambled to get off him. Deftly, Sebastian lifted her across to her seat and pressed the contract into her hand.

  “We’re partners now, my lady.” His voice was a low rumble against her ear as he reached for the door handle. “Let’s hope you don’t regret it.” He vaulted out of the carriage, then turned back toward her.

  She took his proffered hand and he assisted her to the ground. “I shan’t, but you might.”

  He chuckled, a low, deep rumble in his chest, and closed the door behind her. “One can only hope, Livie…”

  Gregson bustled down from his perch. “I brought us round the back, m’lady, so as you wouldn’t be seen.”

  “As always, I am grateful for your foresight, Gregson.” She glanced past Sebastian to smile at him.

  “Will you be all right getting in, m’lady, while I take the carriage and horses to the carriage house?” He glared rather suspiciously over at Sebastian.

  “I shall be fine,” she assured him.

  He nodded before returning to his perch and setting the carriage off down the laneway.

  Livie turned back to Sebastian, who was staring at her intently.

  They simply stood there in the empty street at the back of her family’s town house, their eyes locked upon each other for what felt like an eternity, but in reality must have been only a few seconds. Sebastian leaned in toward her again and drew in a deep breath.

  “You smell of roses and cinnamon…” He sounded intrigued and baffled at once. “I must admit I’ve never met a lady like you before.”

  Livie gulped. She was finding it hard to breathe with him so near. His scent engulfed her, to the point where all she wanted to do was bury her head in his chest and breathe him in, too. Or have him kiss her again. “I’m no different from other ladies. Well, except for my limp…” That actually did make her different, especially in men’s eyes. To them, she was damaged, which meant she was unacceptable, as she couldn’t be a perfect wife, having need of a cane to hobble around with.

  “If people judge you on your limp, then they are fools,” he said, pulling back from her to stare intently into her eyes. “Your limp doesn’t define you, unless you allow it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.” He was able-bodied, with no hindrance to his movements, whereas Livie couldn’t go anywhere without her cane to assist. All her limp was, was a complete and utter burden and a constant reminder she was responsible for her mother’s death.

  “You’re not the only one who others judge, Livie,” Sebastian replied, taking a step back from her. “The number of stares and whispers I get when people see the scar on my face are endless. And then when they hear who I am, their disgust turns to terror.” He laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “So I do, in fact, understand exactly what it is to have people judge. But instead of being affected by it, I chose to be empowered by it. To use my scar and reputation to my advantage.”

  Embarrassment flooded through her, and her fervent wish right then was for the ground to open and for her to be swallowed whole. Of course, he would know the maliciousness of others firsthand. To suggest she was the only one to understand the feeling was selfish. “My limp has been my penance for so long, I tend to forget I am not the only one with an impediment. I am sorry for suggesting you wouldn’t understand. That was wrong of me.”

  “Why is it your penance?” He seemed genuinely curious as he glanced down at her leg and her cane beside it.

  “Doesn’t one have to pay a penance for being responsible for one’s mother’s death?”

  “I suppose it depends on how responsible one is for the death. What happened?”

  And Livie didn’t know why, but she told him. Him, when she’d never really spoken about it before to anyone. “I was eight at the time and with my mother at our country estate. My father had been called back to London on some urgent business the week before and my brothers had gone with him. The day my mother and I were to join them, we woke up to snow.”

  The memories came back to her with vivid clarity. She could still feel the coldness of the snow as it drifted through the air. She could still hear the wonder in her mother’s voice at the sight. She could still taste the bitterness of when everything went horribly wrong.

  Her throat tightened, and her hands clenched into fists. “I can still see the perfect little flakes falling from the sky, softly floating to cover the ground in a bed of white. It was magical, just like a winter wonderland. I begged my mother to delay our journey to allow me to play in it for a bit, to which she laughingly agreed. We ran around in that snow together, creating snowballs and chasing the flakes for what felt like hours. It’s one of my most cherished memories with her.” She glanced over at Sebastian, who was listening to her, as she’d felt no man had in a long time.

  “What happened?” he asked again.

  “When we were eventually ready to leave, Gregson cautioned against going, as the snow was starting to get thicker, but Mother had promised Father we would return that day, so off we set. About two hours into the trip, the wheels lost their traction and the carriage overturned. Mother and I were trapped inside the carriage, broken parts of it on top of us, while poor Gregson was thrown from his perch and broke his arm. He valiantly tried to free us but couldn’t on his own, so he rushed off through the snow to get help.

  “I didn’t realize at the time that the panicked look of terror in his eyes was for my mother, who had a piece of the roof impaled in her stomach, while I got off lightly with some wood crushing my left leg. She held my hand and comforted me, telling me all would be well, while we waited for help to arrive, and I slowly watched as the light faded from her eyes. I stayed holding her hand, pleading with her to wake up, not really knowing she was dead.”


  Shaking her head, Livie pulled herself from the memory and focused her eyes back onto Sebastian. “How I wish I could venture back in time and not ask to play in the snow. We would have left at the time we’d meant to and my mother would still be alive.”

  “That is why you consider your limp penance?” Sebastian nodded, his eyes lit with comprehension. “You believe you are to blame?”

  “I am responsible.” Livie looked him in the eyes, daring him to contradict her. “Are you going to tell me it wasn’t my fault? That it was just a terrible accident?” As so many others had told her before.

  “No. I’m not.” There was neither pity nor praise in his voice.

  Livie’s body suddenly relaxed, the tension she’d been holding releasing at his words. To finally have someone simply accept and understand her truth, was liberating.

  “It would be hypocritical of me to do so,” he continued, “since I, too, consider myself responsible for my own mother’s death.”

  “You do?” The news was a surprise to Livie.

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I shall tell you about it sometime, though right now I expect you need to get inside before the household awakens, which, judging by the rising sun, will be momentarily.”

  Glancing up to the east, sure enough, the shimmering light of the dawning morning was starting to slide over the sky. And he was right, she did need to be in bed before anyone was up, especially considering her brothers all thought she’d taken the family carriage and left the McAuley ball before them with a headache.

  “You’re right, I do need to go.” As she stared at him in the dawning light of day, it struck her that she had well and truly made a bargain with the Bastard of Baker Street. “You will have your men sort out the situation with Mr. Mooney?”

  He raised an impervious eyebrow, which would give the Dragon Duchess herself a run for her money in terms of its ability to convey annoyance in one simple stroke. “I’ve said it will be done and it will be done. I shall send you a note with the address of your new secret headquarters, which you can then go and inspect at your leisure.”