by Joann Simon
Christopher laughed.
"I have always felt," Bayard mused, "that I would be quite well satisfied to find myself an heiress, or at least a young lady whose father's business interests would enhance my own. A plain girl would do, as long as she was presentable; one cannot afford to be too choosy. But to find the former attributes packaged as exquisitely as in Rhea Taylor . . . ah, it is like riches dropped from heaven."
"Robert, you get carried away."
"I only say that when one is offered such a gift, one must be a fool to pass it by."
"I hear you well, my friend."
They were approaching Bayard's lodgings. Christopher slowed the team and pulled them to a halt beside the stone steps. "Is not a shipment of tea due in off one of the Gris-wold vessels Monday?"
"So it is." Bayard stepped down from the carriage. "And only you would be minding mundane business matters after such an evening. I would suggest you direct your thoughts to more interesting contemplations—black hair, green eyes, curves in the most delightful places, connections whose bank accounts will no doubt soon approach the million dollar mark—"
"Do get inside, my friend. With you thus playing the clown, I am beginning to think you indulged in a few too many brandies tonight. See you on Monday, Robert." And with a flick of the whip over the horses, Christopher started off at a brisk trot in the direction of his home on Beaver Street.
Although he never went out of his way to do so, Christopher saw Rhea Taylor frequently in the following weeks.
They were often invited to the same social gatherings, Rhea never failing to come to his side to converse at length, making it no secret that she found him charming company. Once, as he was walking along Battery Park, she and her father met him in their carriage and stopped to chat and offer him a ride back to his lodgings. He refused, but the significance of the offer did not elude him.
His meeting with Nathaniel Wilson had gone well. Wilson, offering Christopher an opportunity to prove his merit, had placed several orders for New England-manufactured goods and had been otherwise helpful during their discussions, relaying inside information on not commonly known undercurrents in the business community. There'd been a few veiled probings, too, about Christopher's impressions of his daughter, to which Christopher had responded pleasantly but noncommittally.
Still, with Rhea so willing to encourage him and remove any obstacle from his path, he felt himself subtly being drawn closer and closer to the lady. Not that she was forward; she was expert enough to know just how much encouragement to give.
Not until late summer did their relationship take a major turn. They were both attending a reception at the City Hotel, the elegant hostelry on the Broad Way, raved about for its superb service and the excellence of its appointments.
He had come alone, as had Rhea, whose father was away on business. Rhea's widowed status gave her the freedom to occasionally go out unescorted.
It had turned out to be a rather stuffy affair. Several businessmen Christopher had hoped to see had not attended, and by eleven he was feeling bored. The presence of Rhea, as stunningly groomed and gowned as ever, her conversation sparkling and adroit, was a much welcome relief. Since she was suffering from the same boredom as Christopher, shortly after eleven she suggested he escort her home and stop in at the Wilson mansion for a nightcap.
The summer evening was clear and balmy as they walked the short distance up the Broad Way to her father's home. She was in a playful mood and soon dissipated Christopher's boredom with her terse and humorous comments on some of the company they had just parted. Both were chuckling by the time they arrived at the mansion doors.
They were admitted by the butler, who must have been sitting in wait for his mistress's arrival.
"Henley," Rhea said as that starchy gentleman took Christopher's hat and gloves. "I believe you met Mr. Dun-lap at the reception we had here last month."
The butler bowed. "Yes. Good evening, sir."
"Good evening to you, Henley."
"Mr. Dunlap and I will be in the small drawing room," Rhea continued gaily, taking Christopher's arm. "Would you bring us some refreshments? Brandy for the gentleman and Madeira for myself. And there is no need for you to wait up, I will show Mr. Dunlap out."
"Very good, madam." Henley bowed again, and Rhea led Christopher down a neighboring hallway, pausing at a door that faced the front of the house. "I thought this room would be cozy," she said as Christopher held the door for her to precede him. "We would lose ourselves in the formal drawing room."
It was a warmly decorated room of dark wood and Chippendale furnishings upholstered in yellows and browns.
Rhea went to the couch, indicating Christopher take a seat beside her.
In a moment Henley entered and placed a tray of refreshments on the tea table in front of the couch.
"Will there by anything else, madam?"
"No, thank you, Henley, this is fine. Good night."
After the butler had slipped silently from the room, she leaned back against the cushions, slid off her low-heeled satin shoes, and wiggled her toes. "Ah, that feels good. My feet were weary."
Then she curled her legs up beneath her on the couch, and turned so that she was facing Christopher. In a more petite woman the action might have seemed kittenish; in Rhea, with her tall, elegant form, the resemblance was more that of a graceful she-panther.
"You do not mind my informality?" she said lightly. "After all, it is just the two of us." Casually she ran her hand down his back. "You should relax as well. What are you afraid of . . . that I might seduce you?"
"The thought crossed my mind."
"Would that be such an unpleasant fate?"
"Unpleasant is not the word I would use."
Chuckling, she accepted the glass of wine Christopher had poured for her. Slowly sipping from his brandy, Christopher settled into a more comfortable position.
"I understand you and Father had a productive meeting. He has told me you concluded some business."
"It went extremely well. Our first shipments should be arriving within the week, and I look forward to learning that they meet his approval."
"You really have no fears that they will not?"
"None. Had I doubts, I would not have concluded the contracts, and I have gone out of my way in the past to insure that my cargo is only the best quality."
"He speaks of increasing your business together."
"That certainly is my wish. How long will your father be away?"
"Until Tuesday or Wednesday. He has gone to Albany to compare notes with a few of his political friends."
"He is not entirely satisfied with what our state government is doing for us here in New York?"
"That I cannot tell you. His political maneuverings are among the few subjects he never discusses with me."
"Interesting."
She swayed just slightly closer to him. "I know of another subject I would find far more interesting at the moment."
He returned her level look. "Oh?"
"You have never kissed me, you know."
"Yes, I was aware." A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.
"Have you never been curious?"
"I had a feeling we would get to it in due course."
"What a tease you are. Any other man would long since have taken advantage of the opportunity and had me in a passionate embrace."
"But I am not any other man."
"Quite true, which makes you all the more fascinating." Placing her wineglass on the nearby table, Rhea reached out and took the glass from his hand, setting it, too, on the table. Then she moved languorously across the cushions to close the small distance between them.
"Very well, if you will not make the first move, it is up to me to do so, is it not?"
Christopher was not unmoved by her nearness. And now as he felt her soft, satin-gowned body pressed enticingly against his own, his male instincts were warmly aroused. Yet, for the moment, he held himself in check. It suited him t
o see how the game would progress with her leading the play.
As he watched silently, slightly smiling, she lifted her hand to touch his cheek, her thumb gently rubbing over the cleft in his chin. Green eyes narrowing, she drew closer, until her red lips were only inches from his own. . . then brushing his . . . pressing more urgently as she felt his response, his arms closing around her back. Her kiss became more demanding, her lips parting, her tongue licking out.
Only then did he return her kiss with all the expertise at his command. He heard her throaty sigh; felt the heat of her breasts pressing against his chest, sending fire flashing through his veins.
Breathless, she pulled a few inches away, her mouth moving to his ear. "You are indeed quite a man, Mr. Dun-lap."
The clean, gently perfumed scent of her hair was heady in the air about them.
"I have been waiting a long time for you to do that to me," she whispered.
"I know."
"What more can you show me?"
"Come here," he said quietly, drawing her onto his lap.
Her arms went around his neck; but this time he was the aggressor, his mouth seeking hers, burning with the intensity his temptress desired. The pressure of her hips on his loins fueled his growing need, sending hot waves of desire through his body. His hand moved to her breasts, caressing them across the bodice of her satin gown, then slipping beneath the low decolletage to touch her nipples; they were already hard. She moaned, dropping her head back against his shoulder, and his lips moved down over the column of her throat, his hand cupping her breast until his mouth found the sensitive peak.
"It has been so long since I felt like this," she sighed.
His lips still at her breast, he lowered his hand to draw the skirt of her gown up over her long legs, his palm gently gliding along the length of her thighs then drifting between them; and at her encouraging cry, his fingers sought out the heart of her pleasure, rubbing the tender flesh through the sheer fabric of her undergarment.
Her fingers began a descent from his shoulder, over his chest, across the hard, taut muscles of his abdomen, halt-ing only at the rising bulge in his breeches, hovering there, gently touching. His breathing had become harsh and heavy; his heart was pounding. He wanted her; his body craved it.
"Your bedroom?" he whispered huskily, his voice constricted with desire as he brought his lips up again to her cheek.
"No . . . here. I want you now—this instant."
He needed no further encouragement. His fingers went to the buttons of her gown and hastily undid them. He eased the fabric off her white shoulders, over her waist and hips, down her legs. The sheer chemise and pantelettes she wore beneath gave little resistance to his eager fingers, and in moments her naked perfection was exposed to him. He ran his hand lightly down one side of her body, then rose to remove his own clothing.
As he undressed, she lay back on the cushions, an alluring goddess, watching him, her eyes bidding him to hurry. His breeches fell, and she reached out to grasp his swollen manhood, then moved her hands up and down its hard and heated length. He gasped with pleasure at her touch.
Her eyes were hazy, heavy-lidded. "You are quite irresistible, my love. Come . . . satisfy me."
Swiftly, kneeling between her spreading legs, he pressed his body over hers, not immediately entering. Her hips began to rotate slowly as her hands eased down his back to his buttocks, around to the base of his manhood, there to linger and caress. At her continuing touch, his need became so intense he knew he could wait no longer. He lifted his hips. The head of his staff sought her warm passage, found it. He entered her slowly, then thrust more urgently. Her back arched as she rose to meet him, press him deeper . . . deeper. Their bodies moved in an ever more frenzied rhythm as each sought out a greater pleasure, Christopher forgetting all but the aching ecstasy that was building, growing, bringing him closer and closer to release. He heard Rhea's excited cries, but he wasn't thinking of the woman beneath him. His mind was a blank that registered only his own physical sensations. When at last the climax came, he seemed to hang suspended. Then his breath was released in a heavy sigh, and a tremor went down his spine as his muscles slowly relaxed.
The room was silent but for the sounds of their breathing, hers softer than his but of the same tempo. As his mind cleared, he began to give thought to the woman still joined to him. There'd been no thoughts of Jessica this time; he had made love to Rhea knowing full well where he was heading. But although his body had reacted in passion, his mind had remained more dispassionate. He did not love Rhea . . . might never love her . . . but she offered all he was seeking at the moment in a woman.
She was the first to speak as he shifted to his side to remove the burden of his weight from her. "Beware, I may never let you out these doors." Her hair had become unfastened and now lay in a black veil over the pillow behind her head."That might necessitate some rather awkward explanations for us both."
Her hand lightly touched his cheek as she smiled.
"A pity, though, that Father does not travel more frequently."
"I am sure we can make some other arrangements for the time to skirt that barrier to our pleasure."
"Aha . . . your mind appears to work along the same channels as mine."
He only smiled as she brushed a few sweat-dampened tendrils of hair from his forehead. The room was still warm from the summer day's heat.
"You are a very mysterious man, Christopher," she whispered.
"Am I? I never thought of myself in that light."
"I do. Why is it you tell me so little of your past? You never speak of another woman, yet it is obvious you have known many."
"Yes, I have known many, but it was never a topic I thought to discuss with you."
"I have a feeling you are hiding something from me."
"That is not my intention." A deliberate lie, but Christopher would never tell Rhea about his relationship with Jessica; never even reveal that he'd known such a deep love. It was an experience sacred and beautiful, one that would only be defiled in the telling.
Rhea, finding she could pry out no secret truths, changed the subject. "Will you be going to your offices in the morning?""Since it is Saturday, and I have nothing pressing, I thought I might take a drive up the island, where it is cooler." He deliberately paused, knowing that she was awaiting an invitation. "Perhaps you might like to come along."
"I had only some shopping planned. That I can do another time."
Christopher chuckled. "Shall we say at eleven, then? I will have my housekeeper pack a lunch."
"And I will provide a blanket." A tiny smile played suggestively at her lips as she gazed at him.
"What might you have on your mind, madam?"
"No doubt the same as you have on yours."
The arm still circling her waist tightened for a moment. "For now I should be going."
"So soon?"
"Not that I wish to run from the pleasure of your company, my dear, but it is getting late and I have a long walk home."
"You could call a hack."
"The night air and exercise will do me good." Sitting up on the edge of the couch, he reached for his breeches and began to dress. Rhea slid across the cushions and reached for her own garments, continuing to talk easily as she dressed. "I received an invitation to the Van Helt dinner party next week. Did you as well?"
"Yes, and I will have to attend, much as I dislike late affairs on a weekday."
Lifting her hair from her neck, she turned her back to him. "Would you help with the buttons? I cannot reach them." He obliged as she added, "At least the company should be more stimulating than at this evening's reception.
Since you are going, why do you not let Father and me pick you up in the carriage?"
He considered a moment as he moved to the mirror at the side of the room to adjust his neck cloth. "That would save me time. I may have a late night at the office. One of the schooners is due in midweek."
His tie in place, Christopher stepped bac
k to the couch to collect his jacket. She came up to him and put her arms around his waist. "Ah, the suave gentleman once again. From your appearance, one would never guess at the delightful entertainment we enjoyed this evening."
He let his hand rest on the thick black hair flowing down her back. "I am afraid the same cannot be said for you, madam . . . though your present dishabille is quite bewitching."
Her soft chuckle was muffled against his jacket front. In a moment she lifted her head, stretching so that her lips were invitingly near his own. "A good-night kiss?"
"You make that a difficult proposition to resist." Pressing his mouth hard to hers, he released her only when he felt his senses quickening again. "I must go."
She made no demur as he stepped back and led her back to the hall, where he donned his hat and gloves. "Sweet dreams, madam."
"Never fear of that. Until eleven."
"Eleven."
As Rhea had well known it would, that evening marked a transformation in their relationship that brought them into continual companionship. For social entertainments, hostesses were careful to include both of their names on invitation lists, and local gossips began to lift their eyebrows, wondering if an "important announcement" might not be forthcoming soon.
Christopher drifted along with the arrangement. He had no reason not to. The connection ideally suited his needs, and there certainly was no one else in New York who interested him as much as Rhea did. Nor did it bother him unduly that she was beginning to consider him her possession. Although he had never made any promise to her, from their constant companionship she had good reason to assume their relationship would eventually lead to a permanent attachment. Yet for the time he was content with the status quo. He ignored the gentle pressure Rhea placed on him to cement the ties between them, and she was too wise to nag at him. Her father, too, though obviously well satisfied with the course of events between his daughter and Christopher, was careful never to interfere. He'd known men of Christopher's caliber and independent spirit before, and was well aware that to push the man toward a decision would be the surest way of sending him running.
Through the fall the situation continued amicably for all parties concerned. Aside from their social encounters and afternoons spent driving or walking through the more fashionable city streets, Christopher and Rhea found the opportunity for secret trysts. Although he never brought her to his town house—he did not care to have Mawson learn the full extent of his relationship with Rhea—he and Rhea did have private hours together at the Wilson mansion when her father was out of the city on business, which he occasionally was, or discreetly in one of the well-appointed rooms of the City Hotel. A few bills passed under the counter to the night desk clerk assured Christopher a room and access to the back entrance of the hotel, where he and Rhea could enter and leave with no one the wiser.
