by Jade Lee
“Maybe not, but if I am to have a transaction in my future, then I shall make the best bargain I can.”
He nodded, seeing her logic even though most of his blood was far away from his brain. “He is the best bargain. He’s the heir to a baronetcy.”
“And I would be his wife who takes care of his household and raises his children. I would be paid nothing, have no control of my own money, and would have to sneak out in secret to carve jewelry that would put money in his pocket.”
He couldn’t argue that. “It is a respectable life.”
She nodded. “Yes, it would be. But I find the transaction with you much more appealing. You would pay your mistress, yes? In baubles and a residence. That is the usual arrangement.”
He swallowed. No gently reared woman should know this, but he found that he liked the way her mind worked. He liked that she knew the reality of what she said she wanted.
“Will you?” she pressed.
“Yes,” he rasped. He would. Maybe not for any mistress, but for her, definitely.
“I would have control over my money. And if you displeased me, if you grew tired of me—”
“Never.” The word was out before he even realized he’d spoken.
“But if the situation turned difficult between us, I would not be trapped. I could take my money and pay for my own lodging. And I would keep the money I make from my jewelry and not share it with you. It would be my income to do with as I see fit.”
He shook his head. “You would not be respectable, Amber. You would be called a courtesan.”
“What do I care what other people say of me? So long as I can make jewelry, and they buy it?”
He didn’t have the ability to argue logic. Not with her standing in a nightrail so close. He could have it off and her on the bed within a trice. Still, he strove to keep her at bey for his own sanity. He feared that if he once broke his moral stance, he would not set her free for any reason. “Christopher will let you make jewelry.”
She snorted. “I want no man in control of my work. I will make what I choose, and no husband will stop me.”
“Certainly, no smart husband.”
She shrugged. “I cannot guarantee the wisdom of any man, and so I will remain independent.”
“And be a mistress?” He tried to put dismissal in his voice. He tried to tell her that she was making the wrong choice. She had a chance at a respectable life and children. But his words came out with hope rather than censure. “You would be my mistress.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed. “Because I will pay you?”
“Because I love you. The rest is simple practicality.”
She loved him. She had said the words before, but he needed to hear it over and over again. She loved him. Not his title, not his respectability, not even his money. She loved him.
“But you deserve more,” he whispered. He should not let her make this choice, but his cock was already throbbing with desire. His hands were fisted at his sides for fear they would grab her. And his mind was filled with the things he could teach her, and the ways they could pleasure each other. “You have a future with Christopher. With me, you have—”
“Independence. Choice.” She took a last step forward. “And I can be with the man I love.”
She kept saying that word, and his chest squeezed tight every time. He never expected love in his life. Responsibility, duty, and honorable service to his country. These were the things he’d been raised to embody. And all those potential brides that his mother had pushed into his path had been told the same thing. They would do their duties, fulfill their responsibilities, and support their country through service to their husbands. Not one would speak of love. That was the language of silly girls too young to know better.
Except Amber boldly stated she loved him. And for that, he had only one response.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you love me? I have done nothing but treat you abominably.”
She set her palm flat on his shirt. His cravat, coat, and waistcoat were already discarded, so there was little between her hand and his flesh but a thin layer of linen. He held still so she wouldn’t leave him.
“You see me,” she said. “You respect my art and my choices.”
“But this is the wrong choice,” he said, his voice raspy as he forced the words out. “You deserve marriage.”
“I deserve to choose what I want.” She lifted her face to his. “I choose you.”
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to be unselfish and return her to the future that all women were supposed to want. He wanted her to have respect, children, and joy in her future. But he could not deny himself. Not when she offered herself with clear-headed determination, with logic, and desire in her eyes. And a scent that went straight to his head.
How could he deny her? He was certainly too weak to deny himself, though he tried one last time.
“What would your father say?”
She flinched at that, then shook her head. “I am five and twenty. It is time I made decisions for myself. He is not the one who will live my life. I am. And so, I have decided on you.” And with that, she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
Whatever restraint he had, broke at the first touch of her mouth on his. He had been dreaming of her lips not five minutes before, and now she was here, like a miracle come to life. She was in his arms, opening her body to his exploration, opening her heart to his desires, and opening her life for his use.
He didn’t deserve it, but he could not give back the miracle. He was not strong enough for that.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down like the precious gift she was. And when she tried to bring him down with her, he held back. He touched the curve of her cheek and her brown curls. He let his gaze rove over her body, shrouded in that horrible nightrail. And he tightened his hand into the sheet beside her hip.
“Be sure, Amber. Because once I have you, I will not give you up.”
She nodded. “I am sure.” Then she rose up and began tugging at her nightgown.
He helped her. How could he not? It allowed him to stroke her skin, to see the slow reveal of her legs, her honey, and her breasts. Her skin was flawless in the candlelight, and her eyes were luminous as she looked at him.
He wanted to say something. Something that would mark this moment with the wonder he felt, but he had no words. Only the slow appreciation of his gaze, his caress, and his kiss. He pressed his mouth to hers, opening her up, and smiling when she was as enthusiastic as he. Then when she tugged at his shirt, he let his lips trail across her neck and down to her breasts. He would not stop kissing her even to unbutton and remove his shirt. He did that while his lips nipped at her tender nipples.
Her hands found him after his shirt fell away. Her frantic fingers stroked over his shoulders and back while he suckled her until she writhed beneath him. And when his hands slipped between her thighs, she grabbed him.
“No,” she said in a husky whisper. “I want you in the normal way. I want—”
He kissed her. He knew what she wanted, and he would give it to her. But first, he would enjoy her, and he would be sure that she was ready. When he lifted off her mouth, he whispered against her ear. “I will give you everything,” he said. “But you must trust me in this. It is your first time, and I want it to not hurt.”
She nodded, and there was fear in her eyes. Every maiden worried about the first pain.
“Trust me.”
He took his time preparing her. He stroked between her legs, he thrust his fingers into her to spread her wide, and he even lowered his mouth to lick his fill of her. She moved with wild abandon beneath him, and she grabbed a pillow to press against her mouth. He heard her cries nonetheless as he sucked her woman’s place. And best of all, he felt the grip of her thighs around his shoulders as her body arched in pleasure.
She quickened under his tongue, and he drank in her bliss. And as much as he could,
he watched her body ripple with every contraction. Such beauty. Such strength. The pillow had fallen off her face, and her lips parted in delight. Her eyes were dazed, and her hair tumbled in wild abandon. He set his chin on her belly and waited as her breathing steadied.
“That is not what I expected,” she finally whispered.
“Tell me when you are ready. There will be more.”
She smiled then, but her gaze slipped to where her nightrail lay discarded. “There is a French letter in the pocket.”
His brows rose. What did she know of condoms?
“The upstairs ladies gave it to me when I turned twenty-one.”
He frowned. “That was four years ago. I’m sorry, Amber, but I don’t think the condom will still be good.”
Her eyes widened. “But—”
He shook his head. “I have one.”
She raised her brows, and he shrugged. “Shall I say that Lord Morthan has them? I found them in the drawer.” He opened the nightstand and pulled out a French letter. “I believe this is his way of keeping his son from fathering a bastard.”
She nodded and began to straighten up off the bed to watch what he did. He shucked the rest of his clothing in swift motions, and when his cock sprang free, she reached for it. “May I?” she asked.
He didn’t know what she wanted, but he could refuse her nothing. So, when she tentatively stroked him and reached for the condom, he let her. His body was thrumming by the time she was finished touching him. And then his hands shook as he taught her how to put the preventive on him.
Soon he was kissing her again. The thrust of his tongue was forceful, as was the way he stroked her breasts. He feared he would hurt her, so he eased his touch, but she gripped his wrists and pulled herself up enough to meet him nose to nose.
“Now,” she rasped. “Please, Elliott. Now.”
He nodded while gratitude overflowed from his heart. He settled himself between her thighs and slowly pushed forward.
She gasped in surprise, but she didn’t move away. In fact, she stretched her legs wider.
“You could never hurt me,” she whispered. “I have chosen this. I have chosen you.”
Sweet heaven, she was amazing. He pushed in deeper. She arched as she surrounded him in wet heat. And when her heels gripped the back of his thighs, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He thrust inside and felt her maidenhead give way. He heard her gasp as her head arched back, and her fingers gripped his shoulders hard. He stilled. Of course, he stopped. She needed the time, so he waited, not even fully seated. He held himself frozen until he felt her relax. Her breath deepened, and her legs softened around him.
“Amber?”
“There is more, yes?”
“Yes.”
He thrust until he was fully inside. She moaned, but this time, not in pain. This time her lips curved in delight. A few moments later, he began to move. The slide of her body around his was like heaven. The smile on her lips as he thrust was incredible. And then she met him with his next pump. She arched into his movement and cried out in delight.
It was like a dam broke inside him. All the passion he held back, all the restraint that had been burned into him since childhood, gave way. He spread her legs wider and thrust deep, claiming her with every movement. He buried himself and jerked against her. He rammed inside and rolled his hips. It was all he could do for her in this maelstrom of need. Everything he knew to bring her to completion again before he lost himself in his own delight.
Her body gripped him. A hot rhythm of hunger that milked him. He gave her everything. He spilled his seed, pouring into her as he steeped in wonder. Wave after wave rolled through him and into her. Heaven.
He fell sideways and gathered her into his arms. He barely had breath but managed to kiss her shoulder and the curve of her neck. She stroked his back and into his hair.
And in that moment, as they touched each other, he knew he had lost his heart to her. She was the woman he loved. The woman for him always. And no matter where country and duty took him, she would be the one to whom he returned.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you,” she answered.
They held each other late into the night.
When the storm stopped and the clouds parted enough to show the rosy glow of dawn, he roused himself. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.
He would not disgrace her yet. He would not own her as his mistress yet. That would come soon. For now, he would try to keep her honor intact. So, he kissed her one last time and crept back into the anonymity of his own bedchamber, where he sat and planned for the future.
Chapter Twenty
Amber relished the trip home. It wasn’t just the warm looks that kept passing between her and Elliott. She realized that soon she would have a home of her own. After all, she couldn’t be Elliott’s mistress and still live with her father and grandfather. Where would it be? How would it work?
A few of the upstairs ladies had gone this route. It was considered a grand achievement, and many of the girls talked incessantly about what they’d do once it happened for them. She would have plenty of ready advice back at the Lyon’s Den, but that was nothing compared to the practical know-how that came from Mrs. Hopkins.
The good housekeeper thought she was asking about her married future with Mr. Jupp. It didn’t matter. Maintaining a household was the same, whether for a wife or a mistress. So Amber asked, and Mrs. Hopkins gave good advice, and their discussion made the time pass quickly. As did the sweet way Elliott kept looking at her. Sort of like a bewitched boy but with a man’s hunger sparking the depths of his eyes. It warmed her deep inside. And she was sure she gave him equally delighted looks back.
Sadly, her mood changed once they arrived at Diana’s home. There were things to do and people to apprise of her decision. While Mrs. Hopkins hurried downstairs, Elliott leaned down to whisper in her ear, and Amber felt a tingle rush down her spine in excitement for the words he was about to say.
“How soon can the brooch be completed?”
Well, that was not what she’d expected. She’d been hoping he’d say, “I love you,” again. But Elliott was a practical man and not prone to sweet words. She’d known that from the beginning. “A day,” she answered.
“Can your father do the metalwork without you?”
“Yes.”
He made a satisfied sound. “I’ll take the wax directly to him. And then I can force the vote tomorrow afternoon.”
She smiled, seeing the way the sunlight gleamed in his hair and that his eyes shone bright. But he wasn’t looking at her. His thoughts were on the schedule of his day.
“I missed this morning’s meeting with Mr. Jupp, but maybe that’s for the best.” He focused on her. “Can you send him a missive informing him that you two will not suit?”
She nodded. “I will tell him that my heart lies elsewhere.”
His brows pulled together in a slight frown. “That may not be the best way. Hearts don’t factor into a society marriage.”
Her mouth twisted into a grimace. Marriage in the upper crust sounded like a jail sentence. She was choosing the right path. “I will say that we will not suit one another.”
“That’s better,” he said with a nod. “And then I’ll send round my apologies and indicate that your choices have taken you elsewhere.”
She looked up, hoping that now she would feel the warmth of his gaze. And even though he could not kiss her in the open, she would feel it in a quick caress of his hand or something like that. But he didn’t. Instead, his thoughts had jumped elsewhere.
“Where will you be? Do you stay with my sister?”
She disliked lying to a woman who had become a friend. And she would not stay here if it might damage Diana’s reputation for housing a courtesan. “I will go home. You can find me in the Lyon’s Den.”
His face tightened. “I do not like you in that place. Where will you sleep?”
“The
re are extra beds above the main den. The upstairs girls all sleep separately from where they work.” Then she sighed. “Plus, I have to tell my father.”
His eyes widened in alarm. “Your father—” His expression tightened as he realized he, too, would have to face the consequences. Her father would not be pleased. In truth, the idea of explaining this to him horrified her. He was not likely to understand, but it had to be done. Her family was too important to her.
“How angry will he be?”
She looked down. “Very. But I will handle it.”
“Will he destroy the brooch in anger?”
Maybe. “If he does, I will refashion it.”
Elliott looked grim, but he nodded. “I could take you there now. We could do this together.”
It was sweet that he wanted to spare her. “I cannot go there immediately. I must make my goodbyes to your sister.”
His eyes narrowed a moment, not in anger, but in discernment. “You are going to tell her as well.”
She nodded. If they were to do this—become master and mistress—then the people they loved should know.
He shook his head. “That is not the way this is usually done.”
“I have always forged my own path.”
He exhaled. “Perhaps I should talk to Diana first.”
Since he had not touched her, she squeezed his arm. “No. Go get the brooch started so you can get the votes you need. That is more important.”
He nodded slowly. For a moment, she thought he’d tell her she was the most important, but that was not what her practical lover would say. His resolution was uppermost in his thoughts, and she would not interfere with what he valued.
“We will speak soon,” she said.
He focused on her. His eyes grew more blue than green, and his expression relaxed. “You understand me,” he said quietly. “You cannot know how rare that is, especially in a woman.”
It wasn’t quite a protestation of love, but it was close enough. It warmed her and gave her the strength to face the rest of the day. She stepped back with a smile. He gave her a quick bow before turning back to his carriage and jumping up beside his coachman. Amber had a moment to enjoy his muscular frame and the easy way he leaped onto the bench. Then they were moving away, and she had to go inside to find Diana.
