“That I did not know. Though I do thank you for your honesty, Mr. Lewes.”
Martin cleared his throat, swiveling his pleading gaze away from her, cheeks and neck flushing bright red. “Calliope, please, it isn’t what you think. I am in dire straits until I inherit, and even then it will not be as much as I’d anticipated. While I do need a bride with a fortune, I think we both know I could have had another. I chose you. The way I feel …”
“Now is not the time for such talk, as I am certain you are aware,” she snapped, alarmed at the desperation that had crept into his voice. They were beginning to draw the eyes of others.
“Of course,” Martin replied with a pained grimace. “But, I would like the chance to plead my case, if you would only hear me out.”
“Perhaps in the morning,” she hedged, certain there was nothing he could say to change her mind but feeling as if she owed him at least that much. “For now, please excuse me.”
Hours later, Calliope looked up from her lap to find a dark figure striding toward her through the garden. Her belly fluttered as she shot to her feet. Even with the darkness shadowing his face, she recognized Dominick—his height and loose-limbed gait making it difficult to mistake him for anyone else.
He quickened his pace at the sight of her, moonlight illuminating him for a split second before he was upon her. Before she could blink, he had her drawn against him, head bent to kiss her. She received him with relish, finding that even after their interlude this morning, she couldn’t seem to get enough. His kiss alone proved addicting, the taste of him wild and heady.
They drew apart, Dominick releasing a little laugh at the dazed look she gave him.
“I missed you, goddess.”
“We’ve been in the same room for most of the evening.”
“Yes, but I had to pretend I hadn’t had my fingers between your legs, or your hand wrapped around my cock only hours ago.”
Her face flushed, and she buried it in his chest with a giggle. “I say thank God for your ability to feign indifference.”
Tilting her chin up, he smiled. “Oh, I doubt anyone thinks I’m indifferent. If they had paid attention, they would have seen me devouring you with my eyes. Have I told you how beguiling you look in that gown? That shade of yellow becomes you.”
“It is called jonquil,” she said as he began kissing her neck.
“Whatever it is called, you are ravishing in it. Though, as well as you looked, I couldn’t help pondering all through dinner how much better that gown would have appeared on the floor.”
She bit her lip to muffle a squeal when he bit the juncture where her neck met her shoulder.
“Dominick … we met so we could talk.”
“You can talk all you like,” he mumbled, palming her breasts while kissing his way down her chest. “You can tell me all the filthy things you want me to do to you. You can tell me how good it feels when I lick your nipples, or kiss my way down to your sweet cunny. I only got the barest taste earlier, and I’m ready for more.”
Warmth sparked between her legs, her nipples hardening in response to his touch. She wanted to melt into him and surrender, letting him fulfill the promise of his shocking words. But, there was still the pressing matter of Martin to discuss and she couldn’t lose her head until they had addressed it.
“Dominick … please …”
“That’s a start,” he rasped, dipping his tongue past the neckline of her gown as if searching for her nipple. He found the edge of it, making her gasp. “Perhaps you might follow that with ‘more’ and ‘don’t stop.’”
Pushing against his chest, she burst out laughing. “Are you able to stop thinking of debauching me for a few minutes, or do I need to slap you again?”
His grin was downright wicked as he drew back to look at her. “I might actually like that.”
With another fit of snorting laughs, she drew away from him. “Come sit with me. We should talk and then you may continue your seduction.”
He followed her to the bench, sinking down after adjusting the bulge at the front of his breeches. “You had better not renege on your promise. It is the only thing holding me at bay right now.”
“Dominick, this is serious. Tomorrow, Martin intends to speak with my father. I have no reason to expect Papa to reject his suit.”
Dominick was instantly sober. “I see. I take it a formal proposal will follow.”
“He has said as much, yes.”
Dominick nodded, throat working as he swallowed and gazed down at his hands. “Callie, I cannot tell you what you should do, nor would I blame you if you accept Lewes. He is a prime candidate for marriage and has more to recommend him than I do … at least, for now.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He met her gaze, his expression becoming mournful. “As a third son, I am not set to inherit a title, obviously. For the past few years, I’ve lived on my earnings as a courtesan, because my father cut me off financially. My fault, you should know. I’ve wrestled with a bit of a gambling problem … though I think I have it managed now. Anyway, until recently I’ve been content with my profession and the money it earned me to support myself. It doesn’t exactly make me a desirable marriage prospect.”
She rested a hand over his and leaned closer. “I do not think less of you for your past or your profession. I think … sometimes people do what they must, and there couldn’t have been many options afforded to you.”
“The alternative was to dance to my father’s tune. He’d never given me any reason to believe he cared about me other than my reflection on our family name. I am not his heir or his spare, and am therefore lower in his esteem than my elder brothers.”
“It isn’t as if you could help being born third.”
“Well, it is the lot I was cast. As I told you, I never thought to marry, because I have always despised being thought of as the castoff Burke son … the leftover scrap to be had only after the more desirable sons had been married off. So, I made no provisions for any sort of future that made room for another person.”
Her chest ached at the dejection in his tone, and she squeezed his hand. “Dominick, you do not have to do this. I don’t need—”
“My Uncle Paul is dying,” he blurted, lifting his head to look at her. “He is the father I should have had, the only person who ever believed I could amount to anything … and he is dying from an illness with no cure.”
His voice quavered as if he might be on the verge of tears, but he remained stalwart.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I cannot imagine how you must feel.”
“It is difficult enough without the knowledge that he is set to leave me everything he owns upon his death. An estate—a rather large one—a smaller property in Cornwall, a London townhome, and … several thousand pounds.”
“I see,” she managed, uncertain what else she might say.
“Do you? I don’t want it, Callie. Not the land, the money, the houses. But, it does have the allure of giving me the means by which I might support a wife.”
A sudden tenderness overwhelmed her, making her want to take him into her arms and kiss him soundly.
“I do not need you to support me. I have my inheritance.”
“I may be a whore, but I’m still a man. If you think it would please me to wed you in order to get my hands on your money—”
“Of course I don’t think that,” she soothed, stroking the back of his hand with her fingers. “You’ve had a chance to earn quite a bit of my inheritance, but never made me feel as if you were greedy for more.”
“I just wanted you to know that when I tell you I want you, I don’t just mean physically. I’m serious about doing what I must to deserve you—even though I know it might take the rest of my life to get there.”
“Stop. You may not be perfect, but no man is. You’ve spent too long thinking so little of yourself, I think it is time that someone made you aware of your virtues. You are honest, charming, passionate, brave. I ad
mire how genuine you are and envy you for it. I’ve had such a difficult time knowing how much of myself to trust others with, and how much to keep to myself. You make it seem so easy to simply exist without caring about the thoughts and opinions of anyone else.”
His cheeks went pink, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. He seemed rather shy about accepting praise, which only made her angrier at his father. What sort of man made his own son feel worthless?
“I cannot promise you a grand title, or a spotless reputation. But, very shortly I’ll have everything else. All of it is yours, if you want it. If you can bring yourself to overlook that before you came into my life, I was nothing more than a degenerate and a whore. But, I’ll do my best to be better for you, Callie.”
Taking his face in her hands, she smiled, feeling as if she might burst with the emotion that overwhelmed her. It wasn’t the flowery proposal she had dreamed of as a girl, but it struck her as being far better. It had been so honest and true that she couldn’t help but think it the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
“I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”
“Then I’m yours,” he declared, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. “Christ, I cannot believe it. I never thought you would choose me over Lewes.”
“I’ve come to see that what I felt for him was infatuation, and I never really knew him. Besides, if someone is going to pursue me, I’d like to think he actually wants me, not my inheritance.”
He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I knew of his financial troubles, but …”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If you were ever going to choose me, I didn’t want you to do it because of that. It didn’t seem right, winning you that way.”
Which was exactly why he had won. She couldn’t fathom how they had arrived here from that first disastrous meeting, but chose not to question it. There was still an unsettling anxiety, her lingering fears reminding her of all the reasons she had avoided romantic entanglements. But, as she stood and urged him to join her, she pushed them aside. Fear had held her back for too long, and she was weary of it. This felt far too good to run away from, and now she would choose to embrace it instead.
“Come with me.”
He frowned when she tugged his hand, stumbling along in her wake. “Where are we going?”
She turned and leaned into him, hands at his waist, head tipped back invitingly. “Why, Mr. Burke, I do believe I promised to let you seduce me. I think it would be better for us to find a bed this first time, don’t you?”
His hands clenched tight to her arms. The hold wasn’t painful, but she could feel the control he exercised as he searched her gaze, seeming to try to figure out if she was certain.
She began backing toward the doors leading back into the house. The moon was obscured by clouds, the night growing chilly, though she hardly registered the cold. The shivers that wracked her had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the precipice she stood upon.
“It’s as if I was dead before you touched me, and now I’m alive. Now that I know how it feels to surrender to it, and that I only feel this way with you … I need you, Dominick.”
He kissed her, long, slow, and deep, his arms a strong bolster saving her from collapse. She returned the kiss with an ardor that had previously frightened her. Submitting to such feelings had felt trivial before, wrong in some way. But she was kissing the only man she wanted to kiss for the rest of her life. Nothing could be wrong about that.
Tearing his lips from hers, Nick took her hand and set off at a near run. They entered through the library, creeping across the darkened room to find their way to the corridor. Fate seemed to smile on them, and the way was clear as they dashed upstairs as quietly as possible. There was a bit of fumbling as he paused on the landing to pull her back against him and kiss her neck, then a soft whimper when the rasp of his tongue stroked against her beating pulse.
They made their way to her bedchamber, hands grasping, lips meeting and parting between heated breaths. Ekta had followed her instruction not to wait up, so there was no one here to see them as Calliope shut the door and leaned against it, watching Dominick cross to the hearth to stoke the dying fire back to life.
Then, he was ripping off his coat, tossing it over the bench at the foot of her bed and turning to face her, chest heaving with labored breath. His hands clenched, then relaxed at his sides as he stared at her, tongue swiping across his lower lip.
“I have to tell you something that may influence your decision. I’ve never … I mean, with a virgin … I always avoided … damn it, I’m making a mess of this.”
She smiled, pushing away from the door to approach him. “I have something to tell you, as well. I’ve never done this at all. It will be a first time of sorts for us both.”
He scowled, flinching when she began loosening his cravat. “This is no laughing matter.”
“No,” she agreed, tossing the linen aside and marveling at the sight of his exposed throat. “So I think you’d better fulfill your promise of making me scream your name.”
He tipped his head back as she came up on tiptoe to kiss his neck, unable to help herself. His chest went rigid beneath her palms, his hands coming up to clutch her arms.
“Callie.”
“You know what to do, and I am mostly ignorant. I need you to teach me.”
Gaze still connected with hers, he allowed some of the tension to leech from his muscles. His hand slipped around her back, fingers nimbly working the fastenings of her gown. She clung to his biceps, getting lost in his eyes—which had turned dark emerald with desire, solemn and fixed solely on her. Her gown loosened and she shrugged it away, standing in a heap of jonquil satin as he slowly circled her, stroking his fingertip down one arm and pressing a kiss just below her ear before standing at her back.
She began to shake as he worked the laces of her stays, the weight of such a moment overwhelming her in an unforeseen rush. His lips were a soothing balm, tender on the back of her neck as he pulled her stays aside, his hand splayed wide on her belly.
His other hand pulled her chemise off one shoulder, his lips and tongue finding every bare inch of skin. The hard swell of his cock prodded at her lower back, insistent and alive.
The chemise crept down her body in slow increments, Dominick taking his time unveiling her. It was nothing like she had imagined, her mind prepared for a ravenous rake tearing her clothes away and plundering her in a mindless frenzy. For all his insistence that he’d never lain with a virgin, he seemed to understand that she required him to coax her along slowly, sweetly, if only this one time. She squeezed her eyes shut as the thin cotton whispered past her hips and down her legs, leaving her wearing only her stockings and slippers. Dominick’s fingers strummed down her spine, featherlight but sure as he traced a path lower. He palmed her hips, then brought one hand around to cup between her legs.
She stiffened, her thighs clenching together, but he simply pressed his middle finger into the seam of her mons. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear.
“I have you, Callie. Let go.”
She gasped, thighs easing apart as he pressed and circled his finger with just enough pressure to send waves of sensation arcing through her entire body.
“Anni,” she choked out.
He went still. “What?”
She slowly turned to face him, momentarily robbed of speech by his reaction to the sight of her. His fiery gaze seared her to the bone, down her naked breasts and belly, past the thatch of dark hair between her legs, over her stocking-clad legs, the back up again. His jaw flexed, nostrils flaring as he drew in a deep breath.
“My name,” she blurted. “When I was born, my mother named me Anni Manha. Before we undertook the voyage to England, one of my father’s superior officers suggested he change my name. The names of Greek deities were all the rage in England at the time, so I became Calliope Anni Manha, though he still refers to me as
Anni in private. Only he and my old ayah call me by that name.”
He smiled and stroked her cheek, inching closer until the heat of his body sank through the surface of her skin. “Anni Manha. It’s beautiful. Would you prefer me to call you Anni when we are alone?”
“You may call me whatever you like. I simply want you to know me, Dominick. I want you to know me as no one else does.”
Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he turned his attention to her hair, running a loose strand between his fingers. “My Anni.”
Her Bengali name on his lips was nearly her undoing. It was a part of herself she had never thought to give to Martin, but the choice to offer it to Dominick felt right. It felt like the truest part of her, entrusted into his care.
“I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I first saw you,” he murmured as he began plucking the pins from her hair.
He dropped them carelessly to the floor as her neat coiffure began to droop, falling against the back of her neck. Ekta always used dozens of pins to secure the thick mass, but Dominick was patient, eyes twinkling with wonder as it fell loose lock by lock, down to her hips. When the last pin was gone, he threaded his fingers through the bone-straight strands made slightly wavy from being coiled up. He drew it over her shoulders and fanned it out, watching as it slipped through his fingers and fell over her breasts, the tips tickling her belly.
“Better than I imagined,” he said with a little smile, crouching to lift her in his arms.
Calliope clung to him as he carried her to the bed, laying her down and standing back to undress. She braced herself on her elbows to watch, the tension in her belly winding tighter with every inch of flesh he bared. She’d never seen these parts of a man. The column of his throat, the flat ridge of his belly and its trail of hair, the broad plane of his chest peppered with more of the same. His long arms, etched with sinewy lines and bulging veins, biceps giving in to strong forearms and the hands that knew where and how to touch her. His shoes hit the floor, his stockings peeled away, his breeches swiftly following. Then, he was bared to her entirely, the totality of him robbing her of breath.
Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3) Page 23
