Beauty Tempts the Beast

by Lorraine Heath

  Triumph at surprising him surged through her. His mouth pressed more firmly against her throat. His breaths came in shortened gasps as though the need for a more thorough touching that embraced her had reached out to encompass him as well.

  His fingers danced slowly, provocatively, along her calf, before creating small circles over the back of her knee. His tongue slowly traced the shell of her ear. “Do you want?”

  In his rasp, she heard hunger and need.

  “Yes.” Her low sigh echoed the same.

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  He was already touching her, but instinctually she knew he was referring to a different sort of touch, the kind for which he might make her beg.

  “Yes.” The word was a stutter, a cry, a plea.

  “Where?”

  “Don’t make me say it.” Don’t make me beg.

  His mouth left her ear and she nearly wept that he would deny her that small part of him.

  “Open your eyes, Beauty. Let me see in the blue and silver where you want me to touch you.”

  She did as he bade. In his taut features she saw reflected the same need she felt. Raw and primal. The need to possess, to be possessed. The need to devour, to be devoured.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  His growl was one of pain as his mouth landed on hers, taking what he’d told her he wouldn’t. She opened to him, welcomed him, met the thrust of his tongue with one of her own.

  His fingers journeyed up her thigh, stroked up and down. He adjusted the position of her leg, spread her wider. His fingers slipped unerringly through the slit in her drawers, fluttered over her soft curls, before going deeper. Parting the folds, he stroked the length of her before pressing his thumb against the swollen nub. She whimpered, gave a little jerk.

  “You’re so damned wet, so hot,” he said against her mouth. He slid a finger inside her. “So tight.”

  He sounded like a man in torment, but his torment could be no worse than hers. She was on the verge of begging when he reclaimed her mouth and began stroking in earnest where she needed to be stroked, circling, applying pressure, gliding over slick wetness.

  Pleasure tripped through her, wave upon wave, each expanding farther, each growing more powerful until no part of her didn’t feel the magic of his touch. Sensations of pure ecstasy burst through her, tore a scream from her throat that he silenced by pressing her mouth against the corded tendons of his neck. She bit down as the bliss continued to undulate through her, as her released wrists landed hard on his broad shoulders, as the leg upon which she stood threatened to give way, would have if he hadn’t circled one arm around her and held her tight.

  When it all passed, when the tremors began to subside, when she came back into herself, she realized she was breathing as harshly as he.

  Slowly, gently, he lowered the leg he’d lifted back to the floor and eased away from her until no part of her was touching any part of him.

  “That’s it. That’s the lessons. We’re done.”

  He hadn’t meant for it to go that far, had meant only to carry her to the brink and then send her to her room so she could finish herself off. He’d never planned to slip his hand beneath her skirt, to know her so intimately.

  But he hadn’t the strength to deny her what he could give. Didn’t want her finding her surcease with her own hand rather than his.

  She was flushed with pleasure, and he wanted nothing more than to take her back in his arms. But from this moment on, every aspect of her was going to be denied to him. Because with a single touch he lost all will to resist her.

  He watched as she blinked, blinked, blinked. As the import of his words began to sink in.

  “Lessons. Plural.” She shook her head. “This was only the first one.”

  “The first, the last. We’re done,” he repeated with emphasis. “I’ll acknowledge to being rubbish as a tutor and go ahead and pay you the thousand. I’ll have the funds to you tomorrow.”

  “But you’re not rubbish. You’re anything but rubbish. Why will you not give me more lessons? Is it the way I responded? You found my reaction repulsive?”

  “You’re jesting, correct?”

  Except no humor lit her eyes. Only worry, embarrassment, a shyness. This woman who had never been shy in his presence looked as though she wanted to retreat, and he hated himself for the doubts he caused her. “Do you know how many men would surrender their souls to the devil to have a woman respond like that in his arms?”

  Of course she didn’t. She was an innocent.

  She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes tearing him apart. “I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”

  He cursed every blasted person who had ever made her question her value, herself. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “Then why won’t you tutor me?”

  Frustration seized him, the same frustration he’d been fighting since he met her. “Because I can’t keep my bloody mouth off you. I can’t keep my bloody hands off you. And it’s getting harder to keep my bloody cock away from you.”

  The sadness in her eyes morphed into astonishment. “Oh.”

  “You don’t need to be tutored, Thea. You don’t need lessons. You’re a natural temptress. You need but be yourself. For me not to acknowledge that, to continue to tutor you, would be to take advantage of you. I gave you my word I wouldn’t do that.”

  “But I’m not complaining. I don’t mind.”

  With a deep sigh, he shook his head. “But I do. It’s not right.”

  “What about the rest of the agreement?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. If what has passed between us has made you uncomfortable, we’ll visit Beckwith tomorrow, see the agreement properly terminated and you paid. I’ll honor the yearly salary and the three-month achievement. With that and what you won last night, you should be able to set yourself up nicely, so you can be selective in choosing your lover.”

  “I’d rather continue to teach the ladies.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I’ve determined an occupation for each of them that I think they’ll find very fulfilling. To be honest, I want to help them move beyond here. I would find satisfaction in it, fulfillment. And I should think I would be hard to replace.”

  He almost confessed she’d be impossible to replace.

  If he didn’t have to tutor her, he could put some distance between them, perhaps ignore this constant undercurrent of want and need. “No sitting on my lap in carriages, that sort of thing.”

  She nodded. “You and I would simply strive not to tempt each other. Because you’re a natural temptress as well.”

  His deep laughter echoed between them. “I can honestly say I’ve never been called that.”

  She smiled. “But we can be friends, can’t we?”

  “We can certainly try.”

  Chapter 19

  Before she’d left his study, he mentioned he’d be dining with his mum that night, so she didn’t expect him at dinner, yet still, she missed him. In her bedchamber, she thought about what he’d taught her that afternoon, what he probably hadn’t meant to teach her: he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But she understood his struggles with their attraction to each other, his need to be honorable. She admired him for them. She was going to strive very hard not to be a temptress, to develop a deep and abiding friendship with him. Perhaps when the ladies all left, things could go further between them.

  As he was no longer giving her lessons, she had no reason to go to the library at ten, yet still she went, carrying his book with her. If he wasn’t there, she would read.

  Only he was there, as was her glass of sherry.

  As he came to his feet, she was relatively certain she saw a measure of relief cross over his features for the briefest of moments. Or perhaps it was simply a reflection of what she felt, the joy that spiraled through her because he was here, quite possibly anticipating her arrival if the offering was any indication. “You knew I’d come.”

  “I’d hoped you’d come.”


  In this particular circumstance, she thought hoping was a good deal better than knowing. Hope involved wishes, desires, and wants. In some cases, even dreams.

  She wandered over to her chair, sat, took pleasure from watching him fold his large body into the cushioned chair. It was rather relaxing knowing there would be no lesson, not wondering when it might begin or what it would entail. “How was your visit with your mother?”

  “Enjoyable, as always. Too much food.”

  “Were your siblings there?”

  “No. We all gather to be with her one Sunday a month and strive to ensure at least one of us has dinner with her during the week.”

  “It’s good that you appreciate her, spend time with her. It’s hard when they’re no longer with us.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your mother.”

  She nodded, fought not to miss her, not to travel down a path of melancholy.

  He shifted in his chair. “As I’ve been distracted of late, I’ve failed to let you know that Lady Jocelyn’s father will pay Beth for her work.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  He lifted a shoulder, tilted his head. “We had a little chat and he agreed it wouldn’t do for word to get around London that he didn’t honor his debts, especially as he’s interested in investing in one of Mick’s ventures.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that. Thank you for ensuring Beth didn’t pay a price for her kindness.”

  “It was a simple enough matter to take care of.”

  She rather doubted that. She reached for her sherry. It was only then that she noticed the long, slender box secured with string resting beside it. Her gaze jumped to his.

  “It’s for you.” His outstretched legs, his hands folded over his stomach, gave the impression he was relaxed, unconcerned. Yet, she also sensed a bit of tension in him, as though he feared her disappointment.

  “I’ll set it aside for Christmas, shall I?”

  “It’s not for Christmas. It’s for now. Open it.”

  Her breath was a bit shaky when she reached for it, set it on her lap, and pulled on the string, watching as the bow disappeared. Lifting the lid, she smiled at the ivory kidskin gloves with exquisite stitching nestled inside the box. “They’re gorgeous.”

  “I noticed your pair had a small hole.”

  Of course he’d noticed. He noticed everything. Purchasing her gloves had been another matter that had added to his recent absences. Taking out one, she drew it onto her hand, not at all surprised to find it fit perfectly, encasing her hand snugly. Once more she raised her gaze to his and found he now appeared completely at ease, and she wondered if he’d been worried she wouldn’t like his gift. “Thank you.”

  His shrug was slight, barely enough movement to be noticed, as though he didn’t know what to do with the appreciation cast his way. After removing the glove, she tucked it into the box, set it on the table, and wrapped her fingers around the stem of her sherry glass.

  “I thought when I go in for my fitting tomorrow I would do some additional shopping, pick up a few other items my wardrobe is lacking.” Gloves had been at the top of the list. “I want to take Hester with me, teach her how a maid accompanies her mistress.”

  “She’ll enjoy that. I’ll see about having Aiden’s carriage made available to you, so it’ll be easier to get about with all your packages.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Tell me what you think the other ladies would enjoy as an occupation.”

  “Flora, obviously gardening, since she already putters about here. I thought you could have your gardener teach her. Lottie has incredible taste in decor.” She waved her hand to encompass the room. “These people who are gaining wealth could use someone to give their homes style. You could help her set up her business. Lily, Ruby, and Pearl would make excellent companions. I can teach them how to manage that.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “No more than three months.” She grinned. “You’re going to pay that two thousand pounds.”

  “Money well spent.”

  She liked the easy camaraderie that had returned to them, halfway wished she had never asked him to teach her how to be a seductress. Before she came here, life had seemed so despairing, and she’d seen little hope for the future. Now it suddenly seemed filled with promise. “What will you do when the ladies are no longer . . . entertaining?”

  “Jewel wants to turn this place into a boardinghouse, let rooms.” His lips spread slowly into a smile, and she thought of other things he did slowly. “We’ll have to hire Lottie to make all the rooms on the floor below more suitable to a permanent resident.”

  She imagined everything within them would need to be replaced. “The front parlor must be redone.”

  “It is rather gaudy.”

  “Risqué.”

  They settled into a comfortable silence. Deciding they’d exhausted all topics of conversation for now, she opened the book he’d written.

  “My family will be gathering for Christmas.”

  Lifting her gaze, she gave him a soft smile. It was difficult to believe that Christmas would arrive the following Thursday. “How lovely for you.”

  “I’d like you to join us Christmas Eve.”

  Staring at him, she couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d suddenly discarded all his clothing. “Half your family is now of the nobility. You can’t possibly think the nobles would welcome me.”

  “For the ladies who reside here, Christmas Eve and into Christmas is the busiest time of the year. Men without families or sweethearts are lonely and seek comforting arms. Jewel provides a very welcoming atmosphere, more so than usual. Liquor flows. The women chat, dance, and flirt. And yes, they take men to bed. Seldom quietly. Do you really want to be upstairs, alone, listening to all the festivities?”

  “I am scandalous, the daughter of a treasonous—”

  “My siblings and I are all unlawful, no doubt the product of scandal. Those who married them created scandal by doing so. Thea, I doubt there is a drawing room in all of London where you would be more welcomed or feel more at home.”

  “Who all will be there?”

  “Gillie and Thorne as the gathering is at their residence. Then Mick and Aslyn. Mick was the first of us our mum took in, so he’s always been seen as the eldest and he’s not shy about flaunting that role. Aiden and Selena, Finn and Lavinia, Fancy and Rosemont. Then there are the children. Mick, Finn, and Gillie each have a daughter. Aiden has a son. Gillie’s babe is the eldest, close to eighteen months now, I think. Then there’s an orphan lad named Robin whom we’ve all taken in. We don’t know his actual age, but I’d put him at about ten. Loves anything to do with animals. He lives with Finn and Lavinia at their horse farm. Our mum will be there, of course.”

  “What if you’re wrong and my presence brings you shame?”

  “I would not have asked if I didn’t want you there, if I didn’t know of a certainty you’d be welcomed.”

  Everything about him was dark: his hair, his eyes, his skin burnished by the sun. And yet looking at him, she felt the light of hope. She nodded. “I would be honored to accompany you.”

  Chapter 20

  During the nights that followed, when she stepped into the library, he was always there as was her glass of sherry, waiting for her. While they each held a book—a mere prop so they could pretend they’d come to read rather than spend time in the company of the other—the covers were never turned back, the pages never glanced at. Instead, they talked and shared stories and laughed.

  She told him about her first pony. He told her about a mangy dog he’d had as a boy. The first time her father took her to the theater. The night he and his brothers had gone to a penny gaff. The naughty books she and Lady Jocelyn had read aloud to each other. The naughty ones he’d read silently to himself.

  She could tell him anything and everything. And if they sometimes gazed into each other’s eyes for a little too long, if want, need, and desire threatened to ma
ke themselves known, he was adept at breaking the spell by stirring the fire, or pouring more libations, or moving to stand by the fireplace. A couple of times he’d excused himself, claiming his unfinished manuscript was calling to him. But she’d known he hadn’t trusted himself to honor his commitment not to take advantage, which only served to make her trust him all the more. She found herself desperately wishing he would gift her with a kiss, a caress, or a whispered endearment.

  She had her fitting, impressed with the excellent work Beth had done. She and Hester went shopping, although she refrained from purchasing everything she wanted. Money was a commodity she no longer took for granted. She intended to hold on to as much of her winnings as possible.

  Her frocks arrived on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, Hester spent a good part of the early afternoon assisting Althea in readying herself for spending Christmas Eve with Benedict. And his family. Of course, his family. They would be there. But they weren’t the reason she was looking forward to the evening. He was.

  She wanted to tempt him into breaking his blasted rule.

  It was one of the reasons she’d bathed using the gardenia-scented French milled soap she’d purchased. The reason her new undergarments were made of satin, silk, and lace. The reason she’d rolled the stockings up her legs and placed her feet in the satin slippers for the first time.

  Standing before the mirror in the red velvet gown, she hadn’t realized how unflattering her daily frocks had been, not only because of the frays and mended tatters, but because they no longer hugged her curves as closely as she was hoping Benedict’s hands might when they returned home tonight from his sister’s.

  Pressing her fingers to the hollow at her throat, she did wish she had a necklace to wear. Not having the jewelry to break things up, it was quite an open expanse of skin from her chin to the swell of her breasts. While she missed having pearl combs for her hair, she couldn’t fault the fine job Hester had done with the red ribbons Althea had purchased, turning them into little bows that covered the pins holding back the strands of her hair from her face, leaving them to flow in curls down her back.