Tory couldn’t rouse any anger at his words. As inexperienced as she was, she was certain he’d been urgent to find his pleasure deep inside of her, as urgent as she herself had been to join him in that pleasure. That realization pleased her to her toes.
“What are you thinking, love?” he asked after several long moments of silence.
She slanted him a look. “If you send me a piece of jewelry tomorrow,” she murmured, “I’ll kill you.”
Patrick laughed out loud and hugged her close. It seemed that he couldn’t stop touching her. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, he dropped kiss after kiss on her face. Tory purred against him and cuddled closer. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, cozy beneath the linen and satin.
“I must return to my uncle’s,” Tory said at last.
“Don’t go,” Patrick protested. He laughed softly.
She raised her head to look at him. “What?”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “After every single intimate encounter of my adult life I’ve wanted to be alone. But tonight, I want nothing more than to keep you with me.”
His words touched her. “Patrick,” she said gently, caressing his face.
“I want to hold you close and know you’ll be here beside me in the morning . . .” He sighed and sat up, leaning back against the headboard.
He seemed uneasy about his confession, so she stayed silent. Could he care about her that much? Was he thinking about marriage? Did she wish to marry him? She couldn’t think of what she felt for him, not with his face wearing such a perplexed expression. But one thought troubled her . . .
“What did you mean about Paul?”
He turned his head to look at her, reaching out to touch her face. “I assumed that—that you had been intimate with Paul, and I wanted you to forget about him.”
“I was never intimate with Paul. I wasn’t a girl to give myself so freely—”
“I know my sweet . . . when you told me he’d broken your heart I just jumped to that conclusion.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I’m such a dolt. You were a vicar’s daughter,” he said, shaking his head. “Why the devil did I forget that little tidbit of information you gave me in the tea room? He slapped his forehead with his palm.
She couldn’t help but giggle at his words. And then a wave of tenderness washed over and she sat up beside him and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
“My uncle will return home soon,” she said, softly. “It wouldn’t do for him to find me gone.”
“Does he often leave you alone?” Patrick asked.
“More often than not.” She smiled at him. “I must admit that I find the solitude refreshing after working at the shop all day.”
“And what of this, Tory?” Patrick teased. “Did you find this refreshing?”
She laughed and Patrick hugged her close.
“Let us go, then,” he said, returning her tender kiss. “I’ll see you home before he calls me out.”
* * *
Long after he dropped Tory off at her uncle’s, Patrick lay awake in his bed. He’d found his release inside of her, something he hadn’t done since the first time he’d ever taken a woman. With all of his other encounters, he’d been able to restrain himself at the last moment, to withdraw instead of spilling his seed where it might find fertile ground. He’d never taken a virgin before. That was true. Perhaps breaching her maidenhead had made him lose control. No . . . he realized. It hadn’t been her maidenhead. It had been the very act of being with Tory, making love to her and wanting her so much.
He’d assumed that Paul had been her lover in Cornwall. But he’d been a fool to even think that. My God, she was the daughter of a vicar! And what if his seed had taken root? What if she was at this moment, carrying his child? What would he do then?
Not to mention, he had been so open about his feelings afterward. His ridiculous confession. Why had he spilled his guts along with his seed?
At least she hadn’t seemed to take his words seriously. He was relieved about that, but also disappointed. Damn! His mind was all muddled. He’d sullied a maiden’s virtue and all he could think about was being with her again.
If he were to be completely honest with himself, he would have welcomed having her in his bed the entire night. And not just for the incredible lovemaking but to hold her in slumber and then awaken to her lovely face in the morning.
He closed his eyes and conjured the vision of Tory after she’d climaxed. That breath-taking expression of wonder on her face. And her tender look afterwards . . .
CHAPTER 10
Tory worked at the shop the next morning, amazed that all had remained the same even though she herself felt so completely different. Patrick’s lovemaking was something she’d never imagined in her entire life. How could something so wondrous exist?
Polishing a delicate Chinese vase of blue and white, she recalled how he’d held her and told her with his words and his actions that he wanted her, that she’d pleased him like no other. She had doubts regarding that last assertion, knowing full well that he’d been with many women far more skilled at such matters. Women to whom he’d given much pleasure in his turn, if Tory could believe the opera girl. She felt a twinge of jealousy and sought to ignore it. Sighing, she put the notion of Patrick’s many other lovers out of her mind.
She lightly fingered the pretty gray brooch where it now decorated the bodice of her modest blue day dress. Patrick had pressed it into her hand before she’d taken her leave last night, and she found that the item no longer filled her with shame or anger. And the memory of the tender kiss with which he’d bestowed it caused her to smile to herself on this sunny morning.
“Why, isn’t that a pretty piece?” Mrs. Floss asked in a low whisper.
Tory started, surprised to find the woman standing so close to her.
“I, um—” she stammered, clasping her hands behind her back. “Thank you. It was a gift.”
The older woman gave her a knowing smile, only benevolence in her eyes.
“Pretty gent that bought it too, as I recall,” Mrs. Floss continued in the same low tone. She ran her fingers over her smooth dark hair. “Interesting how it found its way to you, isn’t it?”
Tory blushed at the woman’s words. Mrs. Floss laughed softly and patted her hand before turning to aid a customer at the men’s counter. Tory hid her own smile. She turned her head to find her uncle regarding her closely. For a brief moment, she imagined that he could see clear into her soul with those dark eyes. Did he know about last night? No, her mind swiftly answered. When Patrick had returned her home she’d noticed that J. B. hadn’t yet come back from wherever he’d conducted his business. She smiled at her uncle and returned to her task.
The service bell gave a gentle jingle and she set her polishing cloth aside to see to the customer at the purchase counter. A pretty blonde lady stood there awaiting her. With a jolt, she recognized the friendly gentlewoman who had evoked visible anger in Patrick weeks ago. Tory puzzled again over their association. She stepped to where the woman was poring over a tray of chains and gewgaws.
“May I help you, Lady . . . ?” she trailed.
“Lady Stafford,” the woman replied with a smile.
Tory inclined her head and returned the smile. “With what may I assist you this morning, Lady Stafford?”
“I had hoped to purchase a gift for my husband but the man has nearly everything he could ever need,” Lady Stafford replied. “I suppose this watch chain will have to suffice.”
Tory lifted the expensive chain in her hand. The cut crystals hanging from the links were both tasteful and elegant.
“I’ve no doubt that he will be very pleased with this, my lady.”
The woman agreed and walked over to the purchase counter. Tory bent to replace the jewelry tray into the glass case.
“Hello, Tory,” Patrick whispered in her ear.
She straightened and faced h
im. He wore a grin on his face and an intriguing look of intimate knowledge in his hazel eyes.
“Hello, Patrick,” she returned shyly.
A welcome glow spread through her veins.
“How are you feeling this morning, love?” he asked, his voice low.
Tory flushed at what he was intimating. She’d been quite sore between her legs when she arose that morning, and now she couldn’t help but be reminded of what had caused that condition.
“I’m quite well,” she said.
He wore his relief on his face. Tory lifted the chain and indicated the customer awaiting her attention. He nodded and followed her toward the purchase counter.
“Well,” he began, “perhaps after you conclude this sale, we—”
He fell silent. Tory glanced at him to find that he was regarding Lady Stafford with a look that spoke of both surprise and strong dislike. For her part, the blonde smiled wanly and inclined her head.
“Hello, Latham,” she said.
Tory watched the interchange, sensing more than a passing acquaintance between them. Who was the pretty woman to Patrick? Her hands shook a bit as she carefully wrapped the exquisite chain. The purchase was soon settled to her great relief, and as she folded the tissue paper, she saw the woman place her hand on Patrick’s arm. Her blue eyes held a sadness that touched Tory despite her own entanglement with Patrick.
“May I please have a word with you?” Lady Stafford asked Patrick.
Patrick’s lips thinned. He gave the woman a curt nod and stepped away from the counter with her as Tory devoted herself placing the various ribbons in order. She couldn’t, however, keep from watching the two people speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the shop, sorely wishing that she could glean something of their conversation.
* * *
“What do you want, Susan?” Patrick snapped.
Susan’s pale blue eyes met his gaze evenly. “When will you put an end to this, Patrick?”
Patrick cursed softly. “Don’t address me so, Lady Stafford,” he said through clenched teeth. “We are no longer the children we once were.”
Susan winced visibly and he was surprised that the action gave him little satisfaction. In fact, he was startled to feeling a kernel of sympathy for his father’s wife. Where was his anger? Where was the sense of betrayal to which he’d happily clung these five long years? He looked away from her as he struggled to regain that cynicism.
“Won’t you please come to see your father, Latham?” Susan asked him. “If you can’t forgive me, I can understand. But your father, and your little sister . . .”
He’d heard that Susan had gotten with child in the first few months of her marriage to his father. After that he’d sought to avoid any news regarding the babe.
“The child is a girl, then?” Patrick asked, guilt niggling him that he had never met his baby sister. “Hmm, seems I’m still in line for the title. Do thank my father for me.”
“It’s your father who needs to see you.”
“My father is no longer my concern,” Patrick cut in, raking his fingers through his hair.
Susan sniffled. Patrick held himself stiff as she gave him a watery smile.
“It’s as you wish it,” she said with finality. “But your heart can’t sustain its coldness forever.”
Patrick was silent for a moment.
“What do you know of my heart, Susan?” he asked her pointedly.
Susan shrugged and tilted her head in Tory’s direction.
“She’s very pretty,” Susan said. “And sweet. Perhaps she can help your heart thaw.”
He wouldn’t speak to Susan of Tory. She had no notion of the truly incredible woman Tory was. He met Susan’s gaze directly.
“Goodbye, Susan,” he said, turning from her at last. “Pray, don’t give my regards to the earl.”
He didn’t watch her leave the store, puzzled by his odd reaction to her. Susan’s image was swiftly dismissed from his mind as he spied Tory in conversation with Mr. Miller. Crossing to where the pair stood, he caught the man’s words.
“It was most pleasurable dining with you the other evening, Miss Elliot,” Miller enthused. “You must permit me to take you to tea this afternoon.”
Tory gave the man a hesitant smile. Patrick caught her eye and she started. He arched a brow at her in question and she returned her gaze to Miller.
“I’m not certain I can leave the shop, Mr. Miller,” she told him. “Business has been quite brisk and Nan isn’t here today.”
“Yes, the skinny pale girl,” Miller said with a wave of his hand. “But surely your uncle—”
“I believe the lady has declined your offer, Miller,” Patrick said.
Miller turned sharply to him. Patrick forced a pleasant smile on his face and leaned comfortably against the counter. Tory busied herself with the pleats of her frock, her hands twitching in her obvious nervousness. He had no desire to cause her any distress, but he’d be damned if he allowed her a moment alone with Miller. While the man seemed cultured and respectable, there was something about him that put Patrick on guard. The fact that he lusted after Tory was only one reason. In his years of circulating through polite society, he’d known plenty of “respectable” gentlemen who were absolute scoundrels beneath their fine clothes and manners.
“As you say, Latham,” Miller conceded, “Miss Elliot has declined.” He flashed a smile at Tory. “Perhaps another time?”
Tory met his gaze and gave a small nod. Patrick watched as Miller took himself from the store. To his dismay he turned back to Tory only to find her gaze intent under her furrowed brow.
“You really shouldn’t have concerned yourself, Patrick,” she softly admonished.
He felt a wave of possessiveness wash over him.
“Did you wish to take tea with the esteemed Mr. Miller, Tory?” he countered.
She clicked her tongue and waved her hand at him. “Of course not,” she told him.
Patrick felt relieved at her quick reply and dismissal of the odious Miller.
“But he’s an associate of my uncle’s Patrick, and I don’t think it’s wise for anyone to suspect that we—that is, that you and I . . .”
“That you and I—what, pray?” he asked in a teasing tone.
He was rewarded with a most becoming blush. Patrick grinned unabashedly at her. She rolled her eyes at him and ran her hands over the skirt of her dress.
“That brooch is a most fitting ornament,” he put in.
Tory’s gaze fell to the piece of jewelry. “I do so like it,” she admitted.
Patrick thought to take her from the shop, to go to a place where they could talk more freely.
“Will you take tea with me this afternoon, Tory?”
She shook her head. “I was being truthful when I told Mr. Miller that we’re busy today,” she said as she turned from the counter.
Patrick reached out to touch her hand, stilling her.
“When may I see you again?” he asked, his voice low.
Tory raised round eyes to him and he could have bitten his tongue at his overeager demeanor. From where had this crushing need to be with her come? This compelling desire to hold her and make love to her and keep her with him through the night? The arrogance such a plea would have elicited in any of the other women he’d known was nowhere in sight. To his great astonishment Tory appeared unsure and troubled.
“I don’t know. Her voice was unsteady.
He took her hand fully in his. “Tory,” he whispered, “do you truly believe I was merely using you?”
Tory hesitated, finally giving her head a quick shake. Patrick suddenly had the unmistakable sensation of prying eyes upon him. He looked about the store and found several of the customers ogling them with interest. The most intrigued were the men, he saw, their brows raised in appreciation. He dropped his hand from hers and stepped back from the counter.
“We can’t speak here,” he told her. “I thank you, Miss Elliot, for your assistance,” he said in a
loud voice. “I’ll give your suggestions every consideration.”
* * *
Tory nodded to him as he quickly took his leave of the store. She looked about and found several of the male customers approaching her. Squaring her shoulders she faced the first man and saw to his request, choosing to ignore the ill-disguised lust darkening his gaze.
“I see you’re not without your admirers, Miss Elliot,” the man said, his thin lips curved in an unpleasant smile.
Tory nervously ran her tongue over her lips. She totaled his purchase and faced him.
“Will this be all, sir?” she inquired in what she hoped was her most courteous tone of voice.
The man with the colorless lips smirked. “You seem to be in quite a hurry,” he grumbled. “And yet I saw you talking with that other gentleman as if you had all the time in the world.”
She pursed her lips to keep from uttering a scathing response. The man finally took his parcel and tipped his hat to her. Unfortunately for her, more gentlemen awaited to take his place at the counter.
By tea time, Tory was quite put-out by the knowing glances that the gentleman customers had been barraging her with. Was it possible that they’d overheard her conversation with Patrick? Did all and sundry now know that she’d given herself to a man who wasn’t her husband, even worse, did they know that she’d reveled in what she and Patrick had done last night and that she would willingly do it again?
No, she convinced herself. How could anyone, least of all these superficial dandies, know what was in her heart? She didn’t quite know herself, but she vowed not to ever again feel shame for what she’d given to Patrick.
In her heart of hearts though, she still longed for a forever kind of love. For a husband to give her comfort and passion and children to raise together. She’d refrained from giving herself to Paul because she’d believed that such things were for marriage. Now, after living in the city, she knew that to be false. The opera girl took lovers. Patrick and those gentlemen like him took lovers. She knew that Patrick had enjoyed what they’d shared, but he admitted that he’d never taken a virgin before her. Did that change anything for him?
That Determined Mister Latham Page 11
