Relief swept over him at the same time his blood took up a rapid dash away from his brain and toward his groin. He had returned as Helene requested, but hadn’t expected to find Clare receptive to his attentions. It had been his aim to kiss her senseless until every protestation died from her lips. Now, it would seem that was hardly necessary.
Instead of voicing any of this, he circled back to the part of her speech that had caught his attention. “CeCe?”
“My pet name for Clare,” Helene said with a fond glance at the open front door. “Her middle name is Cecelia, so it only seemed fitting. Anyway, I am off and will not return for at least a fortnight. I thought it best for the two of you to have the house to yourselves while you…grow better acquainted.”
Edward raised his eyebrows, wondering how long it would take for him to stop being surprised by this woman’s odd relationship with her niece. “Is that so?”
“Quite so. I’ll be content in my quiet little villa on the outskirts of London, while the two of you do as you please without worrying that I’m listening. Do be patient with her, Edward. She’s as smart as a whip, but at times she thinks too much for my liking. But you don’t look like a man who’d have a hard time driving a woman out of her mind.”
Edward shifted under her pointed perusal, noting both amusement and appreciation in the eyes that raked him from head to toe. Clearing his throat, he did his best not to blush. “Of course not. She is in good hands.”
She glanced down at the hand hanging at his side and pursed her lips. “Good hands, indeed. Good day, Mr. Norton.”
“Good day,” he replied as she breezed past him, allowing the waiting footman to hand her into the carriage.
Once the vehicle rolled off down the street, Edward turned back to the house where a servant waited for him in the open doorway.
Taking a deep breath, he made his way inside, steeling himself for what would happen next. One thing he could say about this arrangement; he would never be bored. He’d thought the first day would have been spent seducing a virginal spinster, but instead had found himself experiencing her laughter, then her intoxicating kiss, before feeling the sharp side of her tongue. Not exactly what he’d envisioned, yet no less entertaining. He had a feeling no one ever left the presence of Clare Cecelia Dunnaby thinking that the encounter had been uninteresting.
Edward tried to think up some witty or charming greeting as he was led up the curving staircase, but his imagination failed him. Every time he thought of Clare, he remembered those bright eyes spitting blue fire, her lush mouth curling in disdain as she’d expressed her displeasure. While Helene had assured him that Clare had changed her mind, he didn’t feel as confident as he ought that she wouldn’t toss him out on his ear.
Don’t accept defeat, he chided himself. Desperate times call for desperate measures. You need the money and the only way to it is by getting inside that razor-tongued spinster.
That razor-tongued spinster happened to have the loveliest mouth he’d ever seen. He’d like to get inside it, too, almost as badly as he’d like to be bollocks-deep inside her cunny.
But first, he needed to keep from doing or saying anything that might cause her to change her mind yet again. Which meant he must comprise a strategy consisting of seduction and complete annihilation of the senses. The effect he’d had on her with a kiss had only worked for so long, which mean he must also be relentless.
The butler paused before a room one door down from the one he’d occupied the day before, and knocked. Clare’s muffled voice emitted from the other side, and the servant pushed the door open. The butler announced him, and she responded that Edward was to be shown into the room.
Though he could not yet see her, the timbre of her voice struck him bone-deep. It was as sensual as the rest of her, slightly deep, throaty. He could imagine her moaning his name, the voice growing huskier, higher in pitch, echoing from the ceiling.
He shook his head to clear it of the thought before he became too aroused to think clearly.
All in good time, Ed, he told himself as he stepped into the room.
His carnal thoughts dissipated the instant he found himself ensconced in Clare’s private drawing room. The chamber was unlike anything he’d ever seen, overtaken by a maddening disorder that made his left eye twitch.
Mahogany shelves lined every wall, most of which overflowed with books. Among the tomes were interspersed maps and charts rolled and tied in bundles, a variety of chests in different sizes, ceramic pots and vials, as well as the occasional decorative bookend or paperweight. There were also stacks of books and sheaves of paper covering every available surface—the two desks sitting perpendicular to each other in one corner of the room, the low table near the hearth surrounded by an assortment of mismatched furniture, on the end tables flanking the sofa.
A coat tree stood amid a sea of discarded articles of clothing, enough for her to dress herself as well as several other young women.
The rest of the room was comprised of an assortment of things that seemed out of place, yet somehow a harmonious part of this room. There was a collection of Meissen and Sevres figurines lining the mantle, three pedestals holding white sculptures, and a glass-fronted cabinet displaying an Oriental tea service along with several other pieces in the same style such as jugs and vases. Everywhere he glanced, his eye caught some new thing, until he hardly knew where to look.
The sound of a throat clearing solved the dilemma for him, drawing his attention to the woman he’d come to visit. She’d been sitting in one of the armchairs near the hearth, and had left a book face down on the seat when she came to the center of the room to face him.
She wore white today, a color that served to enhance the darkness of her hair and the brightness of her eyes. Those soft, ebony locks teased playfully along her jaw in whimsical waves that made him want to twine his fingers through them and kiss her again. The woman proved as formidable now as she had the day before—back erect, chin raised, eyes boring into him as if analyzing his every trait.
The beginnings of a smile tickled the corner of his mouth as he noticed she wore a pair of spectacles today, the round frames perched on the bridge of her pert nose. They did nothing to hide the things he’d noticed. On the contrary, they enhanced the attributes that made her so damned riveting. The coming smile almost turned into a wicked grin as he imagined her lying beneath him, wearing nothing but those spectacles.
“Good afternoon,” he managed before the silence grew too uncomfortable.
“Thank you for coming,” she replied. “And I apologize if I was rude yesterday. I’m certain you understand that I was caught off guard by my aunt’s little surprise.”
He attempted a step in her direction, then another once he realized she wouldn’t retreat. “I hope you weren’t too hard on her. She meant well.”
A little huff of laughter escaped her, tickling his cheek and sending another jolt of need straight between his legs. Christ, this woman was making a mess of his senses with very little effort.
“That’s what she said. Once she explained her reasoning, I could no longer hold a grudge.”
That stoked his curiosity, so instead of drawing her against him to pick up where they’d left off, he decided to probe a little deeper.
“Do you mind if I ask what those reasons were? There was not much by way of an explanation, you see. I was simply told that I was being hired for you as a birthday gift. Nothing more.”
Clare rolled her eyes and paced away from him a bit, fiddling with one of several glass figurines shaped like flowers lining the edge of one desk.
“I suppose you ought to know, so you can understand my reluctance to enter into such an arrangement. First, I assume you’ve realized by now that Aunt Helene and I have a most unusual relationship.”
“Really?” he teased. “And here I thought it was standard practice for an aunt to purchase a courtesan for her niece.”
That sumptuous mouth of her curved with a grin that made him want to stroke
his tongue at the corner of her mouth. “Would that other nieces could be so fortunate. She has always been a bit eccentric, and as the woman who raised me, I suppose she passed the trait along. One of the best things about her, though, is her complete honesty and frankness with me on a variety of subjects. There was never a question I could ask that she wouldn’t answer, which has led to a relationship in which we talk about absolutely everything.”
Helene’s blunt manner of speech and disinterest in propriety had become evident the moment Edward had met her, and aligned with Clare’s assessment with her perfectly.
“A rare woman, your aunt,” he said. “I take it ‘everything’ includes the secrets of the bedchamber that are typically kept from young, well-bred ladies.”
She chuckled, shaking her head in amused disbelief. “Nothing is a secret with Aunt Helene. She never wanted me to be ignorant about anything, and did not hold back when explaining to me how things work. Well, being the inquisitive person I am, I set out to discover for myself what it was all about.”
Edward shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d known many bold women in his life, and had even bedded a few. Most were widows, or lightskirts, not virginal chits one might expect to find in a ballroom. To know that she’d gone about taking the rest of her sexual education in hand herself left him both stunned and impressed.
“I see,” he replied, for lack of anything better to say. “And the experience was…”
“Unremarkable,” she filled in, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “The man I chose was a friend. Handsome, intelligent, and nice enough. I expected far more than I got from the encounter, and left it thinking that none of it had been worth it. Aunt Helene insisted it would not always be that way, but I had no desire to try again in order to find out. I have far too many interests holding my attention at any given time to worry over such trivial matters.”
These last words she said while gesturing about her study, indicating the books and the items he realized she must have taken the time to collect. He supposed it made sense that a woman so interested in intellectual pursuits would have no time to waste on carnal pursuits, especially given that her first experience had been unexceptional.
“But,” she said, with a fluid shrug of one shoulder. “She has convinced me that the problem was a matter of compatibility. According to her, I simply must try again with the right man, and she seems to believe that man is you. So…here I am, ready to give it another go.”
Edward was inclined to agree with Helene after their stimulating kiss. Joining Clare at the desk, he reached out to touch her, trailing his fingers from the sleeve of her gown, down the bare skin of her arm. She sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze darting up to meet his as gooseflesh rose up to abrade his fingertips.
“This man…your first lover. Did you feel a strong attraction toward him?”
Her mouth fell open, but words were not immediately forthcoming. She blinked a few times, shivering as he traced slow circles along the inside of her wrist and waited for her answer.
“W-well, he was handsome, as I said. He had—”
“And those porcelain figurines on your mantle are very beautiful,” he murmured, leaning in until that scent of lavender invaded his senses in a heady rush. “But I am not attracted to them. There’s a difference between admiring something in a shop window and wanting it to the point of being ready to empty your purse. Now, this man…did you want him, or was he simply a convenient means by which you could discover what making love was like?”
She seemed ready to offer a response, but then halted, snapping her mouth closed with a thoughtful frown. “You know, I’ve never thought of that way. I liked him well enough. I met him at a botany lecture being held in the home of a friend, and we struck up a rapport. I liked that he was as interested in the study of plants as I was. Mostly, I liked that he was not put off by a woman with thoughts and opinions of her own. But, I do not think I felt any sort of passion toward him. I simply knew he had an interest in me in a physical sense, and that he would be discreet.”
He shook his head, running his hand back up toward her neck, then taking a lock of her hair in his grasp. She stiffened, but made no attempt to move away, simply staring at him as he twirled the silken strands around his first finger.
“While I admire your initiative, I must say you went about it all wrong,” he declared. “Desire and compatibility are like any other science, you know. The correct variables must be achieved to assure the proper outcome. Surely a learned woman such as yourself must know this.”
Her eyes darkened as her pupils grew, turning the sapphire hue of her eyes to deep indigo. She seemed beyond words now, a tremor going through her as she moved her head in a stiff nod of affirmation.
“And you should know, your former lover and I have something in common. I, too, find a scholarly mind most stimulating. In fact, I think science to be a downright erotic past time. Shall I demonstrate?”
Before she could respond, he’d taken hold of her shoulders and turned her so that her back was to him. Smoothing both hands down her arms, he lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, enjoying the way it made her shiver against him.
“We must determine the symptoms of a woman who is attracted to the man who wishes to take her to bed,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “First, a quickening of the pulse.”
Edward pressed his mouth against the vital vein in her throat, finding to his delight that her pulse fairly galloped against his lips. He nibbled the delectable column of her neck for a moment before humming his satisfaction against her skin.
“Then, there are the tremors,” he added. “They begin as very slight vibrations, before turning to full-fledged shivers that can overwhelm the entire body.”
She gasped when he kissed the back of her neck, flicking his tongue against the sensitive flesh just beneath her hairline. She shook as he wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her as tight against him as possible.
“There are other signs of course, ones I can only determine if you’ll allow me to properly examine you.”
Her head fell against his shoulder, and she went completely pliant in his hold. His cock began a painful and rhythmic throb against the swell of her arse as he caressed his way down her chest—over her collarbone and down to the neckline of her gown. He spotted the lacy edge of a chemise as he dipped his hand inside, biting back a groan at the feel of a pert breast filling his grasp. She whimpered, arching her back and rasping the plump bud of her nipple against his palm. The nub furled tight when he gave her a squeeze, then hardened further when he tugged it gently between his thumb and forefinger.
“Taut nipples,” he rasped in her ear, steadily plying the tip of her breast until she began to pant. “Another sure sign.”
Continuing to play with the nipple at his fingertips, he slid his other hand down the side of her body and took hold of her skirts. She squirmed against him, agitating the erection rapidly swelling to full mast in his breeches. Slowly drawing her gown up, he found his way toward a stocking-clad leg and tracked a slow path upward. His mouth watered at the first tickle of downy curls against his fingers—curls he knew would be as black as the strands of hair tickling his jaw.
“Wet.” He sighed, dipping a finger between her lower lips to find her slick with want. “So, so wet.”
One of her hands fell against his thigh, her nails digging in as she seemed to fight for control. She was unraveling, going from cool and reserved to burning hot and he’d hardly touched her yet. Her first lover had been too dense to realize what had been right in front of him. This woman was made for passion; for wild, unbridled ecstasy that only needed the slightest stoking to rise to the surface. That she hadn’t enjoyed herself had been entirely his fault, not hers.
It took every ounce of his will to let her skirts fall and pull his hand free of her bodice before turning her to face him. He wanted to tear her clothes off and bend her over the nearest surface before sinking as deep into her as he could go, but he’d
done all this to make a point, something he couldn’t lose sight of just yet.
Her eyes shined with an unfocused light, as if she were dizzy. Cupping her jaw, he brushed his thumb over her pouting lips, the scent of her arousal filling the air and striking him with a sudden desire to know how she would taste.
“I would say that based upon the exhibited symptoms, you are most certainly attracted to me, Clare,” he said, taking hold of her hand and pressing it flat against his chest. “And in case you wish to do your own examination…feel this. My heart is pounding, my pulse is racing…”
She swallowed, glancing to where he held her hand against his heart. “So it is.”
“And this.”
She let out a strangled sound of shock when he took that same hand and held it against the organ pressing desperately at the fall of his breeches. He resisted the urge to thrust against her hand and simply allowed her to feel the heat and hardness of him, certain that if she concentrated hard enough she might feel the pulse of blood making him feel as if he’d explode at any moment.
“I’ve been walking around like this since our kiss yesterday, and it shows no signs of going away until I’m inside you,” he said, holding her gaze as she closed her fingers over him, seeming more curious than anxious now—as if wanting to know more about the sort of pleasure the hard ridge of flesh could give her. “And now that we have the proper variables in place—you, me, and a rather potent attraction—we must test our hypothesis.”
She smiled, and it nearly knocked the air from his lungs with its vivacity. “If Clare engages in intercourse with a man she feels strong desire toward, then she is likely to find the experience more than satisfactory.”
Taking her into his arms, he began carrying her toward the sofa facing the hearth.
“Conclusion to be determined,” he murmured before taking her mouth in a deep kiss.
Chapter 5
Clare felt as if she’d just fallen into some sort of dream as Edward carried her to the sofa without breaking their heated kiss. This must be a dream if she could be in the arms of a man feeling as if she would die if he didn’t take her then and there. She had never experienced such desperate need before, and had never thought she would. The sensations were all completely foreign to her—the tension winding tight as a spring deep within her, the dizziness making her feel as if she couldn’t stand on her own two feet, the slow cadence of desire taking up an incessant throb in the vicinity of her cunt. But, rather than run from those feelings as she had during their first kiss, she leaned into them, reveled in them, allowed them to carry her away like the sweeping current of a river.
Tempting the Bluestocking: A Gentleman Courtesans Novella Page 5
