“What is your name?” Nancy repeated slowly, as though speaking to a dunce.
“Miss Emily Eliot.” Emily felt stripped of all her secrets. She felt like the harlot of the world.
Oh, God, coming here directly hadn’t been her best idea. She ought to have sent him a message. Mr. Porter would have seen to it.
Too late now.
And suddenly she knew exactly why such wisdom hadn’t occurred to her. She had wanted so badly to see him. As quickly as possible.
But she had also feared that Alex might refuse her more easily if she weren’t here to make a personal appeal. She’d acted quite irrational and frankly rude the night before.
He might reject her anyway.
The realization sent a wave of queasiness over her and she swayed on her feet.
The older woman immediately swept forward. “Come in—sit while you wait.”
The briskness of her tone belied the welcome of her words. Yet she urged Emily inside with one arm, directing her to a chair by the door, the whole time maintaining a hold on the pug as if it was a natural appendage. Then she glided away, her wide blue skirts swishing about in a bell-shaped arc in the fuller fashion of several years previous as she disappeared down the hallway.
Alone and nervous, Emily looked around. Dark wood glistened everywhere—furniture, wainscoting, stair rails. Richly colored, Oriental patterned carpets graced the floors, while shiny brass candleholders and framed mirrors adorned walls covered with emerald paper imprinted with exotic flowers and birds in shades from gold to brown. The air reeked of spicy, exotic scents underlain with beeswax.
A clunk sounded loudly, as if someone had jerked a door open.
“So the subject is closed, is it?” The woman’s voice rang out, loud and full of outrage.
“Yes.”
Emily would have recognized Alex’s smooth tone anywhere.
“Really? You are directing your harlots here now, yet you dare dictate to me and tell me that my own nephew may not visit this house?”
“I know that you’re overset, but it’s still my house, Aunt Rachel.”
“Very well, sir,” the older woman said stiffly, with hurt emphasis on the last word.
“Send Miss…” There was a question in his voice.
“Eliot.” Aunt Rachel’s tone was clipped.
“Send Miss Eliot in.”
The way Emily’s surname rolled off Alex’s tongue sent a curl of warmth through her.
“Of course, sir.” Rachel’s icy tone put an end to the warmth. An urge to flee crackled over Emily’s nerves. Only by sheer willpower did she stop herself from jumping to her feet and getting out of the grand house as soon as possible.
Be brave, you’ve come this far.
Swishing skirts crinkled crisply in the hallway, getting closer until the sound stopped right in front of Emily.
She jerked her head up and Rachel’s gaze cut into her like a dagger.
“He’ll see you now—first door on the left.” Her voice resounded with disapproval. “Well? Go on, girl.”
Emily leapt up, hurried down the hallway and nearly collided with a large, tall masculine frame in the hallway. He looked down at her with stormy blue-gray eyes. Her heart stalled, then resumed in jagged, quick beats. Redolent of shaving soap, he was wearing a medium-blue suit with buff-colored breeches and his golden hair looked damp. He’d obviously just dressed.
He was absolutely gorgeous. Completely dazzled, she couldn’t help gaping at him.
He took her arm and pulled her forward. As he walked, she stumbled along, every nerve in her arm alive beneath his touch.
“Well, you certainly do create a stir everywhere you go, don’t you?” he asked, leading her rather forcefully into the first chamber on the right. All four walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves jammed haphazardly, full to bursting, with all manner of books. An easel held a half-drawn map. The room smelt of dust, old books and a lingering hint of whiskey. Dressed in a sage morning gown, Nancy was reclining lazily upon one of two cream and celadon damask settees.
Alex scowled at her. “Out.”
“Mama says you two shouldn’t be left alone here,” Nancy rasped, staring over her spectacles at them with frank curiosity.
“Go on,” Alex said firmly, pointing to the door.
Nancy came to her feet and adjusted her spectacles. “Well, don’t blame me if Mama is fit to be tied later.”
He released Emily’s arm, took Nancy by the shoulders and led her to the door. On the threshold, she turned, laughing, and wagged a finger in Alex’s face. “Don’t be a naughty boy, cousin. God is watching you.”
His expression took on an aspect of fond irritation and for a moment he looked younger than Emily had thought him to be.
“Yes, well. No eavesdropping—as you say, God is watching.”
He calmly pushed Nancy into the corridor and closed the door. He turned back to Emily and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re angry that I’m here, aren’t you?”
He laughed, a soft, sensual sound that sent a coil of heat spiraling through her center. “I don’t usually invite the girls I meet in taverns to my home, but no, I am not displeased to see you.”
She dared a small smile.
He frowned, his eyes hardening, and he didn’t look fond or young any longer. Under his suddenly chilly expression, her smile died on her lips. She didn’t know what to say.
“So you’re here to procure a loan for your cousin?’
“No.” She took a deep breath, lifting her chest and shoulders up high, then sagging as she tried to dispel the tension that had built in her all morning. It was a complete failure. Her throat tightened up.
He raised his brows and cocked his head slightly. His impatience was a palpable thing.
She laughed, the disjointed sound hanging in the air between them. “I want to say I am—” Her voice crackled and she placed a hand to her collarbone and tried several times to clear it. “I want to say I am sorry about last night and that I’d like a second chance.”
Her voice sped up on the last words and then she stood there, holding her breath, resisting a sudden urge to cover her nose.
Something flared in his eyes, only briefly, but it made her heart leap with hope. Maybe he still wanted her.
She dared to release her breath.
“A second chance?” His tone told her nothing.
“Yes, a second chance—that is if you still wish to…” Her ability to transfer words from her brain to her lips died as he approached her. The scent of his sandalwood shaving soap intoxicated her; his blue-gray eyes transfixed her.
As Emily trailed off, Alex didn’t know what to make of her sudden change of heart. She was behaving very skittishly for a seasoned harlot. But he recalled her from the night before. No untried girl could move with such sensual grace. She’d told him that she liked to see herself as hard to attain. Perhaps she’d simply wanted to whet his interest. Well, she’d certainly done that. At the sight of her, his cock had gone iron hard. All of his misgivings had vaporized as if his mind no longer held voting rights. How ridiculous her question was. Of course he still wanted her. He grinned at her. “Well now, darling, you make me wish I had no business today. But I am late as it is.”
“Oh.”
“Shall I drop you by my rooms and you can wait for me there? I’ll have my man fetch you bathing water, some dinner—anything you wish.”
“That would be lovely.” She frowned. “But…”
“Yes?” He could hold himself back no longer. He crossed the distance between them, then put his fingers under her chin and tipped it up. His gaze swept over her face, as if he’d been starved of the sight of her for a long time. Elation filled him.
Christ, he was already that infatuated with her.
That’s all it was—an infatuation. He was wise enough to realize that. He knew himself too well.
And it wouldn’t last.
But never before had he become infatuated
with a woman so intensely, so quickly. He intended to enjoy it while it lasted.
She studied him with her large, sherry-brown eyes, her expression grave, almost as if she was intimidated by him. He had a hard time equating her current demeanor with the hardened harlot who had bargained him up to one hundred and fifty dollars. The same girl who had so cagily run from him only to whet his appetite for her.
With no way to be sure if she was acting now, to reassure her of her position with him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her closer, allowing her to feel his arousal.
“Emily, you may ask for anything, within reason, and I shall see you are provided with it.”
Her frown deepened. She looked down and chewed her lip. That luscious, full bottom lip. His erection seemed to grow larger and harder—so much so that he feared he’d burst his seams. He slid his hand down to her arse, finding it, as last night, surprisingly rounded for such a thin girl.
“What is it?”
She raised eyes full of chagrin. “I have a bit of a problem.”
“I am listening, but sweetheart, I don’t have much time to spare at the moment.”
As it was he was precariously close to tossing the whole business aside and spending the afternoon tucked into bed with her.
But he couldn’t let James down. The cause was an important one. Important enough that he’d agreed to stay in Philadelphia until the business was done. This afternoon’s meeting was imperative.
Yet her arse fitted his hand so well. He pressed more firmly, bringing their bodies into closer contact.
“I have to buy my belongings back from the ragman. It’s very important. You see, it’s my work—”
“The ragman?” he asked, somewhat stupidly, for his mind suddenly didn’t want to focus.
“My landlord evicted me last night while I was out—”
“You were evicted?”
She nodded. She wouldn’t look at him.
“What about your protector?”
Her small, white teeth sank into her full lower lip. She glanced up through thick, dark lashes. “I haven’t one.”
Her words landed like lead in his guts. He pictured her out in the cold, dangerous night with nowhere to take shelter. His hands tightened on her. “Where the devil did you sleep last night?”
“Uh…a neighbor in my boarding house took me in.”
Relief washed through him. “Why were you evicted?”
“I couldn’t pay my rent. But that’s not what’s important now. He sold my things to the ragman. I simply must get them back. My whole life’s—”
Her voice faded out, for a buzzing began at base of his skull, followed by a most unpleasant tightness in his innards.
“Which ragman?” he interrupted impatiently, as he released her and stepped back a couple of paces. He inhaled deeply to clear the lust from his senses.
“I don’t know—I suppose the one on Water Street, between Key’s Alley and Coat Street. I’m not sure.”
Compressing his lips, he reached for his pocket watch and glanced at it.
“God, I am so late… Well, no help for it.” James and the congressmen would have to wait. He thrust the watch back into his pocket. “Hurry, now—I shall take you.”
Her pretty mouth dropped open. “I can walk there. It’s no problem. I—I just need a little money. Not much.”
He took her arm. “I’d better escort you.”
* * * *
Emily sat in the far corner of the carriage, unable to dispel a knot of uneasiness in her middle as she watched Alex tap his fingers against his knee. Light seeping in through the cracks of the curtains illuminated his hair in shimmering gold and highlighted every perfect line of his face.
God, what was she doing here? Was she dreaming? Was it a good dream or the barest beginning of a nightmare?
Lord, what a thought. She took a deep breath but couldn’t will the uneasiness away. Even though she should be grateful for his help, the way he’d just assumed he should take control of the situation rankled her.
Yet the moment he had taken her hand and told her not to worry—that he would take care of everything—the weight of the past few weeks had lifted and she had seemed to melt. That had been the most disconcerting thing of all. Was she so spoilt, so sheltered by her grandmother, that she would never, ever stand on her own now?
No—it couldn’t be. She’d begun to make decisions on her own—not the least of those decisions being to be this man’s temporary lover in exchange for her rent money.
Goodness, what a decision to lay claim to! Yet in a city still beaten down by the yellow fever, what else could a girl with few skills beyond the domestic and no references hope for?
“Why didn’t you want to come with me last night?”
Alex’s tone was light but he turned towards her and his eyes revealed that he’d been stung by her decision to go home. She drew her breath in sharply.
It had never occurred to her that she could hurt him that easily. She hadn’t thought of their connection like that—in any true sense of give and take. She had thought they would have mostly shallow and impersonal relations, aside from the carnal aspect.
“I don’t know,” she lied with a small shrug.
The corner of his mouth quirked up, a shaft of sunlight accentuating the fine lines that crinkled the skin around his eyes. “You must know you are absolutely maddening, in all the ways a woman can be.”
His voice held a lazy quality that warmed her, relaxing her tenseness away. His eyes were shining pools of periwinkle blue, the pupils dark and enlarged, the lids heavy as if he was sleepy.
So perhaps he had not slept much the night before, either. They shared that lack of sleep, and all that had occurred to cause it. It was a silly thought, but it gave her a false sense of closeness with him. They were becoming friends. She’d had few opportunities to make friends aside from her grandparents. She’d been friends with Anna and John, but this was different. She and Alex had shared the adventure of last night. The first true adventure of her life.
It made it safer to admit the truth—well, something close to the truth. She’d never admit her fear to him.
“I suppose I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?”
“I behaved in a totally…” She took a deep breath, not wanting to put the truth into words. But he deserved an explanation, even if it would kill her to utter it. She closed her eyes and turned away from him. “That—in the alleyway—was the most sluttish thing I can imagine ever doing.”
Now that, at least, was complete truth.
“It was fairly sluttish.” He laughed as he touched her thigh. “That’s what made it so beautiful.”
“Beautiful?”
“It was the stuff of a gentleman’s daydreams.” He caressed her thigh, sending sparks up to her core. “You were really embarrassed by that?”
“Goodness, yes.” Her words came out husky, throaty, for he was brushing his fingertips upwards along her skirt. Talking about how easily he’d wrung pleasure from her was heady enough. Having him touch her whilst talking about it was completely intoxicating.
He skimmed his fingers up over her hips and settled them low on her mid-section, tracing small circles. “You have absolutely nothing to feel ashamed of.”
He spoke almost in a whisper, the very lowness of his pitch making his words more intimate. Heat pooled there beneath his touch; wetness flowed between her legs.
And heat flashed over her face. “Well, now you know why I ran, so we don’t have to speak of it ever again.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “If only I could stop thinking of it. But it’s embedded in my mind now. I had to palm myself off this morning—twice. That’s why I am so damned late now.”
She caught her breath. His touch and his blunt speech were too heady. They made her dizzy. Speaking like that—so crudely—should have disgusted her. But the thought that she had driven a man like him to seek sexual self-solace made her mouth dro
p open and she turned to gape at him.
He grinned at her. “It did me absolutely no good.”
He took her hand and led it to the fall of his pantaloons and pressed it there. He was huge and hard. A new wave of hunger arose in her, like fire tingling over her breasts, tightening her nipples before racing down to increase the flow of moisture from her core.
“You see how you affect me. Yet, I’ll not have our first time be me climbing all over you in a rolling carriage.” He squeezed her hand over his erection and it surged against her touch as if belying his words.
How many nights had she lain in her bed, touching herself, longing for a lover of her own? She’d always felt such shame over it in the daylight.
But here in the daylight, speaking so plainly with him, the shame receded. He made it seem the most natural thing in the world to feel desire. Heavens, he must have inspired so much of it in his life—of course he would know. Of course he would be so comfortable with lust.
However, she’d better keep her head.
He wasn’t her lover—he certainly wasn’t her bridegroom.
And he only spoke to her thus because he thought she was a harlot. Which she supposed she must already be, having agreed to let this man bed her in return for getting her things back.
Yet she’d never felt more alive than at that moment, with every particle of her awake and tingling with joy to be sharing such unbelievable intimacies with him. It wasn’t about the money now. Not completely. She longed to let this intimacy take its natural course and allow him initiate her into lovemaking.
She had friendly feelings for him. No matter that she didn’t really know him, nor that she’d sensed something dark beneath his glib charm—she liked him.
That softened the harder, more distasteful edge of being a whore, didn’t it?
This is for the book. I will do anything to see it published.
The carriage rolled to a stop.
He tapped her hand. “Go on inside and ask for your things. Offer the man five dollars for the lot.”
“But—”
“Just do it.” He released her hand, shifted in the seat and reached into his pocket. Then he handed her five dollars.
She stared at the money. He’d handed it to her so casually, yet it was everything to her. Her stomach growled and light-headedness swirled over her. She couldn’t go very long at all now without eating. She really needed a large mug of strong black coffee and some nourishing food. The view of the bills in his hand glazed as the image of a glossy red apple arose in her mind. She could just imagine biting into it, breaking the skin, sinking her teeth into the crisp white flesh and tasting the sweet, tart juice. Dear heaven, she could consume a whole bushel full.
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