The brother had been frightened. Farris took the initiative. “Fifteen hundred is a very generous offer, miss. The sale of your house will bring you a goodly sum as well. Not to mention the jewelry Lord Ranelagh purchased for you.”
“You don’t understand. I want a better house in Cairo, and my brother wants his racehorses back, and none of that is possible on fifteen hundred. Perhaps Lord Ranelagh doesn’t understand the explicit nature of my story.”
“I must tell you, in all good conscience, that Lord Ranelagh is—how do I say this—rather indifferent to public opinion. Had you had a—er—relationship with some other member of the nobility, perhaps your accusations would have been more damning. But the viscount is immune to censure.”
“Then, why are you here?”
“I’m here, young lady, to make an offer for you to leave England because the viscount would like that. But if you chose not to or should you not agree to a reasonable sum, he is quite ready to have you publish whatever you wish. And I expect you know him well enough to understand that.”
“I’d suggest you consider Mr. Farris’s offer,” Collins said. Ranelagh had lived with scandal much of his adult life. His offer was more than generous, and if the young lady doubted Ranelagh would say publish and be damned, he didn’t.
“Double it and I’ll agree.”
Collins masked his surprise. Farris said, “Five hundred more.”
“A thousand,” she countered.
“Seven hundred fifty.”
“Done. I’d like it in cash.” She stood and smiled at the two men. “It was a pleasure, gentlemen.”
“You won’t receive your money until you reach Egypt,” Farris reminded her.
She hesitated briefly. “Then I’ll need three hundred for travel.”
“Agreed.”
“Three hundred extra if you’re going to make me wait for my money.”
This time Farris hesitated, concerned she would continue to have additional requests.
“You don’t expect me to travel in steerage, do you?”
“The sale of your house should preclude that necessity.”
“I was under the impression you wished me to leave immediately. Collins will have to sell my house in my absence.”
“Very well. Three hundred extra. A ship sails for Cairo next week.”
“That should be time enough,” she said ambiguously, and turned to leave.
“Collins will draw up the papers. Sign them before you leave.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “You English are always so precise. Of course, I’ll sign any papers you like,” she replied casually. “I wish you good fortune, gentlemen. This has been a very profitable afternoon.”
Chapter 22
A note from Farris arrived at the apartment in the Adelphi as Sam and Alex were finishing Claude’s excellent dinner.
“Something bad?” Alex queried, taking note of Sam’s expression.
“Not anymore,” he said, crumpling the paper. Although he wouldn’t be entirely satisfied until he heard Farida had reached Egypt.
“That sounds ominous.”
“I’m sorry. It isn’t … just some unfinished business.”
“Some woman is hounding you, I suppose.” At his look of surprise, she realized her facetious remark had struck a nerve.
“Not anymore,” he said again.
“It’s none of my business, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
“What if I’m curious?”
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her from under his lashes. “Too bad.”
Resting her elbows on the table, she steepled her fingers under her chin and smiled at him. “Then maybe I might be inclined to say too bad to something you might like—later on….”
“Are you threatening to withhold sex?” He grinned. “Is this the same woman who came four times on the drive into the City?”
“I could if I wanted to.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Tell me anyway.” She stuck her tongue out. “I want to know what’s in the note.”
“What do I get if I tell you?”
“My undying affection.”
He smiled. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Something more tangible?”
“Tangible is fine.”
“Something tangible and sexual?”
“There’s a combination.”
“I’ll do it. Now tell me.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be coy and unwilling for an indeterminate time and then capitulate?”
“Aren’t you interested in having sex with me ever again?” she replied pointedly.
“Then don’t get angry with what I tell you.”
“I won’t.”
His dark eyes took on a sardonic cast. “I didn’t realize you were so impossibly curious.”
“And I didn’t realize you could be so impossibly difficult.”
Inhaling slowly, he debated whether it would be wise to bring up Farida again.
“I’m waiting.”
He mentally shrugged away his reservations. If she wanted to know, she wanted to know. “My barrister came to an agreement with the woman from Egypt. For a sum of money she has agreed to return home.”
“She was blackmailing you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Of course I do.”
“She was threatening to send something to the newspapers.”
“Something?”
“Look, I don’t know what. She was going to make up some story that would discredit me. I told my lawyer to let her, and the hell with it, because I didn’t do anything wrong, but of course lawyers are always more cautious. So I agreed to pay her if she left. That’s all there is. It’s over, and hopefully she’ll soon be gone.”
“I want to believe you.”
He scowled. “Thank you for your confidence. And I want to believe you won’t be seeing that young boy on Friday.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“No, I’m not. You don’t like my women friends, and I use the term loosely with Farida, and I don’t like your men friends.”
“Since I’ve known you for only three days, my men friends are none of your concern.”
“Nor should Farida be of interest to you.”
“She isn’t.”
“Excuse me? I believe I was threatened with no sex because of her.”
“My mistake.”
“Then it doesn’t matter whether I leave you now and go to another lady?”
“Would you really?”
“How late is it?” He glanced at the clock.
“You bastard.” Pique tightened her mouth.
“Are we being concerned? Let me know, because I’m getting mixed signals.”
“I have to see Harry. I promised him I would.”
“I’d be happy to tell him you changed your mind.”
“You don’t understand. This has nothing to do with sex.”
“I doubt Harry would agree with you. Should I come along on your visit?”
She had the grace to look disconcerted.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Are we going to be faithful to each other? I doubt it. Actually, I don’t wish to.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because I’ve known you three days. And more important, your record on exclusivity is nonexistent. Let’s just say I’m skeptical.”
“Would you otherwise?” The words were shocking even as he spoke them, and he wondered if he could be drunk on only one bottle of wine.
“You mean if you weren’t the byword for vice and inconstancy?”
“I suppose that’s what I mean.”
“You might have denied it.”
“It’s rather hard to deny after fifteen years, but if you’d like me to, I will.”
She surveyed him from under her lashes, a stubborn set to her expression. �
�Why are we even talking about this? It’s ludicrous. Neither one of us is looking for love and marriage. We’re interested in sex. You’re the last person in the world to argue about that.”
“You can be damned annoying.” He pulled the cork from another bottle of wine and poured his glass full.
“I don’t want to be annoying. I want to make mad, passionate love to you for another night”—she smiled faintly—“if I can stay awake two days in a row.”
“I’ve never had anyone fall asleep on me,” he said with a wicked grin.
“Screw you, Ranelagh.”
“We’ll do that as soon as I finish this bottle. Let me know how I compare to Harry.”
“Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite for sex,” she snapped, rising from her chair. “Good night.”
She’d not walked more than five steps when he caught her and pulled her to a stop.
“Not so fast, darling.”
She hadn’t heard his chair move, nor his footsteps on the floor, and the capacity for silence in so large a man was unnerving. “I’m not your darling.”
“I beg to differ with you. At least tonight you are.”
“I’m not staying.”
“Of course you are.”
“You can’t keep me against my will.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because I’ll scream.”
“And?”
“This isn’t funny, Sam. I don’t wish to stay. I’m angry with you.”
“Maybe I can change your mind.”
“Not unless you can erase fifteen years of your life.”
“I can be very convincing.” He pulled her closer so their bodies touched lightly, so she could feel the rampant extent of his desire.
“I’m not in the mood to be seduced, particularly by a man who finds women no more than a blur of selfish orgasms.”
“Mutual orgasms, darling.” He cupped her bottom, hauled her closer, gently moved his hips. “You remember those….”
“I prefer not being the ten-thousandth woman in your life,” she snapped, trying to push him away.
“Au contraire … you’re the only one,” he said, bending low to kiss her pursed mouth, the rigid length of his arousal iron hard against her stomach. “And I’d really like to make you come tonight—or all night … or all week if you prefer.”
The words all week jolted her brain, settled flame hot in the damnable eager heat of her vagina, required a sustaining breath to tamp into submission. “Sorry, I’m not interested,” she said tightly. “Now let me go and I’ll bid you good night.”
He heard the tautness in her voice, knew what it meant, knew more how little she could resist her desires and even better how their passions matched. “Stay a few minutes more. I promise to behave.”
“You don’t know how to behave. You’ve spent a lifetime misbehaving.”
“You could show me how—a woman of your propriety and virtue.”
“There’s nothing I could show you, believe me.”
Such a statement was difficult to ignore, almost impossible, but he resisted the impulse and said with exemplary courtesy, “I’m willing to learn.”
The double entendre wasn’t intentional, but it raced through her senses nonetheless, and she spoke in almost a whisper. “Let me go.”
Something about her tone gave him pause, and he released her.
“Now step away from me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And he did, deferential, polite, unequivocally beautiful at such close range—or any range. Maybe it was the candlelight or the room or the ghosts of Regency courtiers, but the viscount had never looked so darkly handsome or desirable or sweetly available.
“Have you thought any more about a baby?” His voice was like velvet, his dark eyes hauntingly seductive.
“Sam! Don’t you dare!”
Her exclamation was answer enough. “We could talk about it.”
“No.”
But her voice was barely audible, her hands were clenched at her sides, and unless he missed his guess, her thighs were clenched as well against her sexual need.
“You liked Tina’s new baby. You said she was all pink and cuddly.” Moving forward, he took her in his arms and she didn’t push him away this time. “We could think about it at least….”
A much-longed-for baby would be heaven; how often had she wished for a child in her marriages, Alex thought, struggling to maintain her anger in the face of such blissful possibilities. She leaned a fraction closer to the man who could make her dreams come true—in terms of babies if nothing else. “You won’t stay.”
He didn’t pretend not to understand. “I will.” Even as he spoke, he questioned his sanity, but the words seemed right just then and true.
A warmth of longing, a glow of hope quite apart from reality, infused her body and soul, enveloped her—them, perhaps, she thought with roseate fondness. “I’d like to believe you.”
He drew in a small breath against the shocking significance of what he was about to say. “Believe me.”
She smiled. “Am I supposed to forget all the ladies?”
“At least I haven’t been married twice, nor do I sleep with underage people.”
“Harry’s of age.”
“By a day, maybe. But, look,” Sam said quickly, “I don’t want to argue about anything in our past. I don’t want to argue at all. I want to make love to you. I even want to give you a baby if you want one, and just so you understand my amateur status in that regard, I’d like you to know I’ve never made that offer before.”
“What if I accept your offer? What then?”
“We’ll deal with it.”
“It?”
“The baby.”
Her brows rose.
“Our baby.”
She suddenly laughed. “I believe that was terror I saw.”
He smiled. “Only a transient uncertainty, darling.”
“I do enjoy being your darling.”
“Not as much as I. I hope we’re done fighting.”
“I seem to want you more than I don’t want you.”
“Thank God.”
She shook her head. “My feelings are purely secular and explicit.”
His smile was slow, unutterably sensual, and so beautiful, she knew she’d never forget it. “We’re definitely in accord. Could I interest you in a too-small bed that I promise to replace tomorrow?” His bachelor apartment was austere.
“You could interest me in this carpet we’re standing on.”
“Ah.” Knowing the particular style of her eagerness, he held out his hand. “Perhaps we should hurry.”
“And I don’t want a baby.” Despite her unguarded passions, a particle of good judgment yet remained.
His hand closed over hers. “We’ll see.”
But elements of their discontent surfaced in the course of the night despite their mutual passions and lust. Alex couldn’t forget how Sam had become so proficient at pleasing women. Meanwhile Sam found himself recalling her scheduled meeting with Harry tomorrow much too often for his peace of mind. Spurred by jealousy or bewitchment or rash impulse, Sam found himself forcing the issue of a child late that night when no more than a day ago, the subject alone would have driven him away from any woman so stupid as to mention it.
Alex resisted, a discretionary response that took every ounce of willpower she possessed when Sam was offering her the moon and it took several heated moments more before their emotions were restored to a semblance of calm. But passion ultimately prevailed, or carnal desire, or whatever strange attraction drew them to each other with such intensity and they agreed to agree and made up in each other’s arms.
Chapter 23
When he woke in the morning, she was gone. Considering what a light sleeper he was, he gave her high marks for stealth.
After his initial surprise, his temper flared and he swore in a great number of languages. She hadn’t been unhappy with the sex—her screams had been proof of that. And she hadn’t taken issue with
the number of times she’d climaxed—the bitch. But now that she’d had her night of sex, she could conveniently take affront once again.
It was Friday after all. She had to see her young friend Harry.
The viscount returned to Park Lane and spent the remainder of the morning closeted with Patrick McGuff, going over estate business. The men discussed the crop reports from all his properties. Sam’s concentration was so unusual, Patrick said, “Are you feeling well, sir?” twice before Sam’s heated glance cautioned him against further questions concerning his health. Once the crop reports had been perused, the men discussed the new wing that was planned for Sam’s primary country house near Cambridge. Meetings were set up for the architect and builder for later in the week, a tentative construction schedule was established, and when Patrick asked whether Sam would be able to attend the commission on the new courthouse proposed for his parish, he shocked his employee by agreeing.
“The aldermen will be pleased, sir. Immensely pleased. They’ve been hoping to thank you in person for your generous donation to the building fund.”
“It was your idea, Patrick. They should be thanking you.”
“But your generosity made it possible, sir. Many of the nobles aren’t so civic-minded.”
“Our parish can use a new courthouse. The old one was falling down. The decision was simple enough. Now, what else do we have on the agenda?”
By this time, the estate manager was beginning to be genuinely concerned. Sam never spent more than an hour at a time in Patrick’s office. “We could look at the reports on the parish schools, sir. There is some question of adding new teachers if the budget allows.”
“Why wouldn’t it allow? Show me the figures, Patrick. Let’s see that we have enough teachers this year.”
With both apprehension and elation, Patrick pulled the reports down from the shelf. If his lordship was ill, he hoped someone other than he would notice, too, and see that Lord Ranelagh received help.
“Perhaps we should order some food,” Sam suggested, glancing at the clock. “It’s well past luncheon. You must be hungry.”
While Sam was astonishing his estate manager, Alex was at Harry’s. And despite Sam’s resentful speculation, she hadn’t looked forward to the visit.
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