Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3)

by Victoria Vale

  “Would it help if I apologized?”

  She issued an indelicate snort. “We both know you wouldn’t mean it.”

  “Fair enough. Perhaps I should simply be honest. I wanted that kiss badly enough to swindle you out of it. So much I couldn’t think straight, let alone take hold of what little scruples I do have.”

  The admission provoked a wild fluttering low in her belly. Ridiculous.

  “Well, you got what you wanted. I hope you are satisfied.”

  He caught her gaze and held it, their progress grinding to a halt as they came near a set of open French doors. The terrace stretched out under a pale moon. A soft evening breeze offered a bit of relief from the heat. Nick’s eyes gleamed without a hint of amusement as he stared down at her, his nostrils flaring like a predator scenting its next meal. Calliope shivered, caught in his thrall like the weakest of prey.

  “Not in the least, goddess,” he whispered. “It wasn’t nearly enough for me, and I don’t think it was for you, either.”

  Calliope pulled her slackened mouth shut and fought for composure. This was absurd. She didn’t want this man. She didn’t!

  “I do not wish to speak of it. Please … I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”

  He looked as if he wished to protest, but eventually agreed with a nod. “Very well. I never got a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed my visit to the foundling home.”

  She stumbled to keep up as he resumed their walk, pulling her away from the open doors. Reeling from the abrupt change of subject, she scrambled for an adequate response.

  “Really? I would have thought such an outing would bore you.”

  “Yes, well, the absence of a Hazard table or lightskirts considered …”

  At her shocked look, he laughed and patted her hand where it rested on his forearm.

  “I was joking. You do like jokes, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. It is only that your jokes can often be so … inappropriate.”

  “The best jokes often are. I know you do not think much of me, but I happen to like children, so a visit to the home was neither boring nor tedious.”

  That statement called to mind the sweets he’d carried in his pocket, and the heartwarming sight of him surrounded by children and playing cards.

  “You were very good with them, I noticed. Thomas, in particular, seemed rather taken with you.”

  His lips softened into a genuine smile. “I’ve had a bit of practice with children over the years. My siblings keep creating them, and I keep thinking up new and inventive ways to spoil them and bring their more monstrous qualities to the surface.”

  She couldn’t help an answering smile. “I am certain they adore you. I think you shall be a wonderful father, if you can convince some lady to abandon her sanity long enough to wed you.”

  “Touché,” he said between snorts of laughter. “Perhaps I’d better make it easier on myself and head straight to Bedlam to begin interviewing prospective brides.”

  Calliope wanted to be amused at his little quip, but for some reason could only frown. “You make light of your marital prospects, but surely it isn’t as bad as all that. Despite your reputation, you cannot have failed to notice the reaction you draw from women every time you step into a room. If your financial difficulties were so dire, why not marry instead of choosing to … well, you know?”

  She glanced about to find that no one was paying them much attention, secluded as they were on the periphery of the ballroom. Still, she wouldn’t risk exposing his secret, and thereby the truth of her own connection to him.

  Irritation flashed in his eyes. “No one wants to marry a third son when the elder sons are still eligible. Even after my brothers wed, I still carried the distinction of being the one a lady would have to settle for simply because the better choices were taken.”

  There was such bitterness in his voice that Calliope was forced to view him in a different light. He had never looked or sounded as if he cared about anything other than chasing his own pleasure.

  Could there be more to his devil-may-care facade than what one saw on the surface?

  “Surely you don’t have such a low opinion of yourself.”

  “When low opinions are the only ones your father, and it seems everyone else around you, has, it is difficult to feel otherwise. Besides, you make it sound as if being a courtesan is the worst thing a person could choose to be. I could be penniless and destitute, or living on the charity of someone else. Instead, I am independent and, as of a few months ago, completely free of debt.”

  As before, she gazed around to ensure they hadn’t been overheard, fear overcoming her at the thought of someone hearing his indelicate words. He seemed not to care if they were found out, which only set her more on edge.

  “I like entertaining women, making them feel desired and giving them the sort of thrill their husbands or lovers could never achieve.”

  “The ridiculous sum you earn for your efforts doesn’t hurt matters.”

  “It certainly sweetens the deal. It is too bad you’ve decided not to take advantage of the full range of my talents.”

  She came to an abrupt halt, forcing him to draw up short at her side. They had circled back to the open terrace doors again, but she hardly registered the cooling breeze as she glared up at him.

  “I have asked you not to do that.”

  He returned her angered look with a defiant one. “Sorry to disappoint you, goddess, but I’ve told you before that I find it impossible to lie to you. The fact is, you are in denial about a great many things, not the least of which happens to be that you want something you’ve convinced yourself you shouldn’t.”

  Calliope’s throat burned with the urge to dress him down. The man made her forget about propriety and the perfect image she’d cultivated out of necessity—which made him even more dangerous to her than she’d first supposed.

  Taking a deep breath, she edged away from him a step, then another. People would start to talk if they appeared to be in the midst of a spat.

  “It has grown over-warm in here. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

  She dashed out onto the terrace before he could stop her, ducking to the side of the door and out of sight. The cooler air helped to calm her and took some of the heat out of her cheeks.

  This situation had begun to unravel, falling out of her control even as she grappled to rein it all in. It was Dominick, the infuriating man. She ought to have known he would never adhere to the boundaries of their contract. His sense of manhood and pride in his work would demand that he add her to the never-ending string of lovers he’d plowed through. She would not fold. There was far too much at stake.

  Her eyes flew open as the subtlest change in the air announced his presence. Fury welled in her when she found him melting into the shadows with her. The noise of the ball filtered through the open doors, voices and music and laughter. It all seemed to fade away as he came closer, not stopping even when Calliope tried edging away from him, her back coming against the side of the house. His hand pressed flat to the brick, his arm impeding her escape.

  “Dominick, please—”

  “As much as I like the sound of those words on your lips, I am not fond of your tone. Perhaps if I kiss you again, you’ll beg me to have my wicked way with you instead of imploring me to stop making you feel things you’d rather not.”

  She glared at him, one hand pressed to his chest in a feeble attempt at pushing him away. Was she pushing him? That had been her intent, but now that her hand was on him, her resolve had begun to weaken. She could think of nothing but the firmness of the flesh at her fingertips and the rapid cadence of his heart.

  “You have quite proven your point,” she snapped. “Attraction is an instinct that cares not whether two people actually like one another. There is no need to continue your little game.”

  “Is there something about my behavior that leads you to believe that I am in a playful mood?”

  No, dash it all. He was ser
ious, completely and intensely focused upon her like a hawk ready to swoop down on an innocent, unsuspecting meal.

  “I can understand your rigid adherence to public propriety, and preserving your reputation,” he added. “What I cannot understand is why you go on pretending as if you don’t want so much more than you aspire to.”

  “Martin is a good man. He will make me a fine husband.”

  He scoffed and shook his head. “You are not a ‘fine’ woman, or even a ‘good’ one. I’d never describe you with such paltry words. Why do you think that all you can have is a bland future with a man who isn’t capable of truly appreciating you?”

  “There is nothing wrong with wanting security and an amiable marriage. Not everyone chases passion with such recklessness, as if there aren’t more important aspirations in life.”

  White teeth flashed in the dark when he smiled, and he edged forward until their bodies touched. “I find that interesting coming from you, a woman so full of life and vitality. You think of passion as something dirty and carnal, something to be resisted. What you fail to realize is that it encompasses all of life, but in various forms. You love your sister, you care for the orphans who rely on your charity, even the single-minded determination with which you chase your suitor is dripping with the very same passion you claim to want none of. Do you think Lewes has even a fraction of the spirit you possess?”

  She tilted her chin in a show of defiance, hands clenched at her sides. “I think you judge him unfairly. You hardly know him.”

  “And you know him so much better?” he challenged, fingers lightly tracing along her cheek. “Enough that you can picture him as your groom, your husband?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of how that touch felt on her face—how it sent tingles of awareness across her skin, down her throat, straight into her breasts.

  “Y-yes.”

  “And you can imagine him touching you, making you tremble the way you are right now … undressing you and taking you to bed?”

  His fingertips stroked along the side of her neck, then lower, tracing the line of her collarbone, then the edge of her neckline. Goose bumps rose along her skin wherever he touched.

  “Do you imagine he’d be the perfect gentleman, as he always is? Or do you think he would ravage you with hot kisses?”

  She gasped when he skimmed his open mouth along her shoulder, his breath warm and ticklish against skin that seemed attuned to his every touch. One long, muscular thigh pushed between hers, spreading her legs and pressing against her most intimate of places. Her gown hitched up a few inches, and she found herself gripping his shoulders for balance, her entire body wracked with tremors as heat sparked from where his leg pressed against her mound.

  “If he’s a smart man, he’ll take his time. A sweet little morsel like you should be savored, not taken in a single bite. How prettily you’ll moan when he kisses you here … his tongue teasing these delectable nipples until you’re writhing and panting beneath him.”

  Her teeth clenched to hold in a whimper when his thumbs stroked her nipples, the touch slightly muted by her gown, stays, and chemise. Still, it was enough to make her more aware of her breasts than she had ever been, the tips furling tight and throbbing with need as he slowly circled the pads of his thumbs over them.

  “He won’t be able to stop there,” he rasped in her ear, his lips teasing the curving shell, his tongue dipping and swirling. “He’ll want to kiss and taste you everywhere—your breasts, your belly, every inch of your shapely legs. You’ll blush and try to push him away when he nibbles along the insides of your thighs, but he’ll soothe you, remind you how good he can make you feel if you’d just let him. And you will let him, won’t you, because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him as badly as he wants you. He’ll push your legs apart and kiss, lick, and suck his way down …”

  Her belly clenched, her entire body stiffening as his knuckles strummed down her belly. She faintly registered the noise from inside the ballroom, reason creeping in to remind her that someone could wander onto the terrace any minute. This was wrong—so wrong—and not just because they could be caught and she would be ruined, but because as he whispered seduction and sin in her ear, she forgot that they were supposed to be talking about her and Martin.

  But, it wasn’t Martin she thought of as his fingertips tickled between her legs, brushing against the seam of her mons through the fabric of her gown and petticoats. It was Dominick she imagined kissing and undressing her, touching her, doing such naughty things.

  “You’ll cry out at the first touch of his tongue here,” Nick rasped. “You never knew anything so wicked could feel so good, but you’ll let him taste you, your legs shuddering and your back arching as he licks and kisses you where no man has ever touched.”

  His finger pressed against her in just the right spot and she buried her face against his shoulder to muffle her moan of delight, her legs clenching around his thigh.

  “You’ll taste so fucking good. He’ll devour you until you fall apart, screaming and moving against his tongue, riding his mouth and smearing your juices all over his lips.”

  “Dominick,” she cried out, fisting his coat as her body began to move of its own volition, seeking more pressure, more of the mind-numbing pleasure his touch sent coursing through her veins.

  It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the man she should want. She was so close to something, her body bucking and straining as he took hold of her hips and pulled her up his thigh, cupping her buttocks and grinding her against him. The taut ridge of his thigh was hard and unrelenting, stimulating the throbbing nub nestled at her center, sending waves of urgency and need through her.

  “Christ, the way you cry his name, the way you feel, the way you taste … he won’t be able to withstand it anymore. He has to have you. He has to fuck you.”

  Heat jolted through her at his crass words, her body reacting far differently than the first time he’d spoken to her this way. Because, now she understood what it really meant, how it could feel—and he was only touching her through her clothes. She held onto his shoulders, her hips undulating in the grasp of his hands, her entire body winding taut as if preparing for something monumental. She felt it looming closer and closer, bright and vibrant like a shooting star.

  “Is that what you want, Callie?” he rumbled in her ear, biting the lobe as he rubbed her against him, pushing her toward culmination. “Do you want him inside you, his cock filling and stretching you? Slow and sweet at first, but then … you’ll be begging him for more, wanting him to fuck you hard and fast.”

  Something inside her gave way, flooding her insides with molten heat. She arched, her head pressed back against the wall and her hips jerking against him, her breasts filling his palms as she shook and groaned through gritted teeth.

  “Yes,” she hissed through a clenched jaw. “Yes … yes … yes.”

  It was spectacular, this torrent of spasming, throbbing waves washing through her core, rippling outward on waves of blinding bliss. Her thighs gripped around his hips, the fluttering between her legs swelling and growing in intensity with each drag of her mound over his thigh, his hands tight and possessive against her buttocks. She lost herself to the moment, the pinpoints of the stars blurring overhead, and her awareness narrowing to the parts of her that reacted to such stunning ecstasy.

  Eventually, it melted away, the pounding ripples receding and softening to slight flutters that slowly died away, leaving her trembling. He slowly eased her back to her feet, his hands holding fast to her waist, as if he sensed she needed a moment for the strength to return to her legs. As it was, she felt as if she would collapse against him, drunk on what he’d just made her feel and the promise of more.

  “There you are,” he whispered against her lips. He licked into her mouth, then nipped at her chin, her jaw. “I think I like that no one else sees you as you really are. I think if that ass, Lewes, had ever seen you as I just did, I’d be forced to snap his neck.”


  At the mention of Martin, Calliope felt as if she’d been doused in the face with cold water. She drew in a sharp breath, pushing Dominick away and fleeing toward the railing of the terrace. Having not fully recovered, her legs failed her, and she stumbled, bracing her hands on the wrought iron to steady herself.

  “Calliope.”

  Dominick’s hands were on her shoulders, and the heat of his body touched her back. That most male part of him—his cock, he’d called it—was hard and threatening at her back, reminding her of what she’d given into, what she’d done by allowing him to touch and kiss her.

  “Stop,” she whispered, her voice low and hoarse as she hung her head. “Please … I cannot do this.”

  He released her, but she still felt him nearby—far too close. “What are you afraid of, Calliope? I think we both know you’ll never have with Lewes what you just had with me. And there could be so much more.”

  “Carnality,” she spat, turning and jabbing the center of his chest with her finger. “A temporary infatuation that will last as long as it takes for you to get what you want. And when you are done with me—”

  “In case you have forgotten, I’m the courtesan here. I’m at your service until you are done with me, and if I had my way, that wouldn’t be for a very long time.”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten what you are. That knowledge is exactly why I cannot believe I just allowed you to … to …”

  She paused, taking a deep breath. This was nothing. She’d had a moment of weakness that had now passed. It didn’t matter that the things he’d made her feel would likely haunt her for the rest of her days, or that she’d allowed him such liberties when Martin had never so much as kissed her. It didn’t matter that she would go to her husband tainted and corrupted by another man’s touch. No one ever had to know.

  “This will never happen again,” she said, steel threading through every word. “For the duration of our arrangement, you are to do as I ask and refrain from touching me unless absolutely necessary. If you cannot abide by those rules, then I will be forced to put a stop to this.”