Nicholas squelched a groan. She saw his game and was playing with him. The question was simply how far she would go to get what she wanted.
“Nothing?” He dipped his head and ran a sidelong gaze down her body. Unlike her previous visit, she’d left off all but a minimum of layers beneath her gown. The cream-colored material flowed down her body to accentuate each curve. He itched to shove his hands up her skirt and explore the silky patch of curls between her legs. “I think your moans and cries indicate otherwise.”
In the candlelight, the color of her cheeks deepened to rosy red. It was the only indication that she remembered their night together as vividly as he. Still, she didn’t waver.
“Have you always been so confident of your skills as a lover, Your Grace?” She shrugged, and the other sleeve dropped off a perfect white shoulder. “Perhaps I was only falsely playing to your immense ego to keep you from taking away my home. Perhaps the pleasure was yours alone.”
The chit did have a pair of steel stones beneath her drawers. She was not the least intimidated by his ducal rank. Her stubbornness and aggravating need to thwart him at every turn now became a challenge. He’d discovered that she made love just as passionately as she fought for her courtesans, for her mother, and for herself. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever known. Everything about her was a whirl of color and a mass of everything contrary.
Each time he thought her captured and bent to his will, she’d slip from his fingertips and thwart him. Not this time.
“There was nothing false about the way your body responded under my tutelage. I know as well as you that you want me.” He grinned wickedly. “I have a few more tricks to teach you, Eva. You must give me a chance to prove your words as lies.”
Eva frowned. There was no denying the attraction between them. Even now her body called to him to take her with passionate fervor. However, she was not about to put off her reason for her visit while he made her lose focus on Yvette’s plight.
“If you truly want to give me what I desire, then you will agree to introduce me to your investigator.” She leaned forward under the pretense of smoothing her skirt and watched him through a fringe of hair. His attention dropped to her neckline, where her breasts threatened to spill over frothy lace.
Never had she lowered herself to use her body, her charms to get her way, but her relationship with His Grace was no normal situation. If she had to play off his desire for her to get to the investigator, then so be it. The time to cling to her morals, and her virginity, had passed. He wanted her, and to have her he needed to give her something in return.
She could suffer regrets for her fall from grace once Yvette was safe.
He stared at her for a long moment, his hooded eyes telling her nothing of his thoughts. His linen shirt was open at the neck, and the sleeves were rolled to the elbows to show a fine mist of dark hair on his forearms. His black breeches were sculpted to his thighs and molded to the hard ridge of his erection.
The sight made her mouth go dry, and her body flushed with heat. He was a fine specimen of a man, dark and dangerous. If she were to crawl into the murky water between fighting for her soul and becoming his courtesan in truth, or to turn around and walk away from him forever, she wasn’t sure which she would choose.
“I will make the introduction tomorrow,” he said finally, through harsh breath and gritted teeth.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Eva nodded. She locked into his eyes and walked slowly toward him. His intensity drew her in as she slid into his arms and cupped the side of his face. She touched her tongue to her bottom lip. “Now you must show me those tricks you promised.”
She lifted to her toes, pressed her mouth to his, and tasted brandy on his lips. In an instant, his arms closed around her, cupping her buttocks and crushing her against his erection. Her last bit of reserve—pride, as it were—fled with the brush of her breasts across his chest as he shifted to pull her closer to his hardness.
Eva hated the ease with which she’d become his lover, his courtesan. She hated how much she desired him, too. And as she tangled her tongue with his, she knew she would always feel vulnerable to his seduction.
Though she wanted to believe she’d gone to his bed under force and fear of her future, there wasn’t a requirement in the arrangement that she’d actually find pleasure in his arms.
Her pleasure was his gift to her.
Nicholas reached to free her hair from the chignon and it tumbled sensuously down her back. She knew some of her features were quite ordinary, but with a mass of extraordinary hair infused with flame, she’d enticed a duke to take her to his bed.
“I will not become your courtesan,” she said softly as he waged a sensual war on the curved shell of her ear. He nibbled around the edge, then buried his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply. A soft sigh escaped her.
“ ’Tis a bit late for that, love.” He trailed kisses down her neck and nibbled her collarbone. “If you prefer another term, I’ll not quibble.”
Eva felt cool air on her legs and realized her slippers were gone and her skirts were sliding up her legs, twisted in his long, lean fingers, and she was arched back over the desk. He quickly loosened her bodice, and the plump flesh pressed up to a precarious level.
The man had skills aplenty. While his mouth was occupied with hers, he’d managed to get her halfway undressed without her knowledge. She’d spoken often to her young women about the need to keep certain parts covered at all times. And now her own nipples were peeking out from behind the creamy lace of her bodice, and she was extremely pleased.
Regrets raced through her. She taught her courtesans all about propriety, and this was entirely improper. However, the duke was not about to allow her a moment to rethink this agreement. He dropped to one knee before her and shoved her skirts up to her waist.
Shockingly exposed in the candlelight, she had only a moment to feel herself being eased up onto her back on the desk before his hot breath touched her clitoris.
“Your Grace, please, you cannot.” She tried to close her legs, but his head and shoulders prevented such an action. She was trapped. She felt him part the curls with his fingers, and she whimpered a protest. He brushed her nub with his thumb, and she gasped at the flash of pleasure.
“I can, and I will.” She lifted onto her elbows and watched in surprise as he dipped his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue. She let out a cry as he took the nub in his mouth and suckled gently. The shocking intimacy of the act dropped her back on the desk’s surface and she began little whimper-moans as her body responded to his egregious behavior.
As if she could take any more, he slipped one finger inside her wet sheath, then another. She bucked, her heels pressing against the desk as he licked and suckled and drove her to the brink of insanity. When she finally tumbled headlong into her release, she screamed his name and fell back, her body replete.
His Grace gave her no time to recover. He rose to position himself between her legs and tore open the buttons on his breeches. She pulled him to her as he entered her in one slick movement and buried himself to the hilt.
Eva met him thrust for thrust. She felt as if her body had taken flight, and could not feel the earth beneath her. He kissed her; he suckled her nipples, and pulsed inside her until she lost all sense of time or place. And when he cried out hoarsely and spilled his seed inside her, they fell together, collapsing on the hard surface of the desk, breathless and boneless.
“I will not be your courtesan,” she said sleepily as his erection slowly softened and slid out of her body.
“You are my courtesan,” he replied. He lifted her off the desk and carried her to the Oriental rug by the fireplace, gently settling her on the soft surface. There was the real fear of discovery by a footman or maid, but Eva could not lift a finger to cover herself. She smiled lightly, imagining the mortified face of a servant were he or she to come through the door and find Eva splayed out, her skirts bunched to her waist and parts only a husband should se
e exposed for anyone to take a peek.
Nicholas tugged her skirts into place.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She touched his hip with one hand, the only part of her able to move. A hazy, damp sheen covered her skin, cooled by the chill of the room.
“You’re welcome, Miss Winfield,” he said, matching her formality.
Eva realized it was the first time he called her anything but Eva or Miss Black. She supposed their intimacy was as confusing to him as it was to her. Though he was a man with certain needs, she sensed he did not usually commit such, ah, intimate acts on his desk.
Nicholas rolled onto his side and lifted a damp lock to his nose. “I never seduced Arabella in this room, Eva, if that is what is screwing up your face.” He grinned. “In fact, I have decided to sell this town house. A new mistress needs a new house of her own.”
She wrinkled her nose. His uncanny ability to read her thoughts was disturbing. If he ever lost his title and fortune, he could find work with a troupe of gypsies telling fortunes. “Then I hope she will be very happy there, Your Grace.”
His bark of laughter filled the tall room. “Stubborn witch!” He leaned to kiss her.
“Arrogant beast,” she replied, grinning, and they shared a slow and intimate kiss. It was so seldom that Eva heard him laugh, and she committed the sound to memory. There would be years ahead without him, so she also memorized his scent, the feel of the rough patches on his palms when he caressed her, the taste of his mouth. Even the way he scowled and his brows came together with a deep groove between them. She did not want to forget anything about her first and only lover.
Eva broke the kiss. “Tell me about your home,” she asked, and leaned back on the rug. “A man of your position must find this town house restricting.”
He positioned his head on his open palm. “Collingwood House? My mother and I live there when she is in town, though she prefers to stay in the country. When the Season is fully upon us, she rushes to London and casts about at various functions for my perfect future wife.”
Wife. The word soured her stomach. Of course, he would have a wife someday, and they’d discussed the matter before. Nicholas was almost past the age when most men wanted to produce a passel of heirs. And the idea of Nicholas sharing such recent scandalous intimacies with another woman was profoundly difficult for her to imagine. Still, he’d had sex with women before her and would continue his amorous liaisons after she’d faded back into obscurity.
She forced a light tone. “And has she whittled down a list of young beauties?”
His brows went up. She hoped she hadn’t sounded overly interested in his private matters. It was easier to keep their interactions purely of a physical nature. It was the dreaded curse curiosity making her ask. It wasn’t as if she’d didn’t have other topics to chose from.
“She has. I agree with her choice.” He rubbed his chin. If he found the conversation odd, it didn’t show. It was possible he’d spoken of the same topic with Arabella. A mistress knew her place. Speaking of a wife would not be unusual, though likely not common. The two lives should and would be kept separate.
Strangely, she felt a sudden rush of resentment over Arabella and her time with His Grace. She knew it was absurd to feel it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Before Arabella left, I had made overtures to Lucy Banes-Dodd. Her father was encouraging the match.” He twisted the lock of her hair. “I’ve been distracted of late. I promised Mother I would renew the courtship soon.”
Eva hated herself for the bleak turn of her mood. She should change the topic to the weather. Instead she pressed, “And what of Arabella? Would you have continued your relationship with her after you married?”
“I expected to do so.”
The confidence in his words irked her, as if Miss Banes-Dodd wouldn’t be put out to share his bed with another woman. Eva knew it was an arrangement common to men of wealth, and their wives pretended not to know where their husbands spent their time and money. She supposed when one married for wealth and position, and not for love, the wives likely were relieved when their husbands slaked their needs elsewhere.
Her father had found love with her mother.
“I could not agree to such an archaic practice nor accept my husband finding comfort in another’s arms,” she said. “If I were to marry, it would be for love. I’d expect total faithfulness and devotion.”
Wide shoulders shrugged. “A noble idea, but impractical.” He reached to place a hand over her heart. “Love is for ballads and plays. Most women are more realistic. They know a good marriage can be the difference between comfort and protection, and poverty. You have a monthly stipend. If not for that, what would you do?”
What would she do? She couldn’t help her courtesans, nor could she afford to stay in her home. Truthfully, she could end up entering into a contract with some man like His Grace.
“Women are slaves to the whims of men.” Her voice was so low she wasn’t sure he’d heard her until he nodded.
“I can give you riches beyond your imagination, Eva.”
She nodded. “For the price of my soul, Your Grace.”
The softness in his face fled and his jaw pulsed. “You enjoy the pleasures of my bed, Eva. We share a passion most people will never experience. You should give me leave to spoil you as I wish, as my courtesan.”
She looked into his eyes, disbelieving he’d all but likened her to a possession. She rolled onto her knees. She’d almost forgotten that beneath the handsome face, and his clothes askew from their frolicking, was still the man who all but called Arabella his property. He saw her the same way.
A fleeting sadness tangled with her anger. “You do not, nor will you ever, own me. Take your money and your baubles and fill the pockets of your precious Lucy. All I ask for is a chance to repay my debts fairly without bullying from you.” She jerked her bodice in place and leveled a pointed glare on him. “I think I have earned that right.”
Eva stomped over to the desk and retrieved her slippers.
She bent to pull them on, then straightened and walked to the door. Never had she been so incensed with anyone. He had a way of jabbing at her until he drove her mad with his opinions.
“I hope you have much happiness with your Lucy, and I wish her the best of luck.” She opened the door and stepped out. “She’ll need it.”
Chapter Eleven
Have you gone batty?” Eva stared at her sister and shook her head. It was difficult enough to comprehend that she had a sister who wanted to know her. She’d not be dragged off to parties she had no possible reason for attending. If anyone discovered her identity, the scandal would be far-reaching and life-ruining.
And after her confrontation with Nicholas last evening, she wasn’t in the best of moods. She wanted to be left alone. Noelle was having none of that.
“Members of the Ton may hide their true natures behind closed doors, but publicly they hold to their rules like talismans of honor,” Eva said sharply. “I will not attend Lady Pennington’s ball with you.”
Noelle leaned back on the settee and stretched both arms across the back. Her expensive green day dress took up the better part of the patterned surface. In the light from the window, she sparkled like an emerald. “Why ever not?”
Eva stared, exasperated. Noelle must have difficulty hearing. It seemed to come and go, based on the topic and whether she was in agreement on the issue or not.
Noelle was impossible. She was bossy and pushy, and oftentimes reminded her of the duke. Neither understood how hard she’d worked to protect her mother and herself from prying eyes, and how lonely she’d become because of her sacrifices. But it was her life, and she wasn’t about to risk everything on the whims of a sister she’d known for a few days.
“My mother was a courtesan, remember?” Eva reached for her tea and sipped it. “Though her time as a courtesan was brief and her lovers limited to Father, Mother was one of those rare beauties people remember years after they fade into obscu
rity. Lady Pennington will not be pleased if I show up at her ball and flaunt myself about.”
Amber eyes flashed. “Who’s to know you are Charlotte’s daughter? You are my long-lost cousin from Northumberland. Remember? We have recently made contact through letters and have become fast friends. Lady Pennington will not deny me a second invitation.”
“You cannot be so confident.” There! The argument was over. Lady Pennington had a well-planned guest list. She was very particular about whom she invited and posted footmen at the door to keep out riffraff. The only way to gain entrance to the ball uninvited was to climb through a window. And she would not do that for anyone. “I understand guest lists are often filled weeks in advance.”
Noelle smirked. Eva very much hated it when she smirked. “Aunt Penn is my godmother. She will not say no to me.”
Eva’s eyes widened. “Lady Pennington is your godmother?” she said dumbly. This association with her sister was getting worse. Eva hadn’t known how well connected her father had been. Mother rarely talked about that aspect of his life. She liked to speak only of the times when he was with them.
At Noelle’s nod, she leaned back and sighed. “You think she will not question the arrival of this relative she has never met? I hear she is a dragon with the ability to expel smoke out of her nose.” The situation had the makings of a disaster. “What of your mother? She will take one look into my eyes, Father’s eyes, and realize the deception.”
“Oh, Aunt Penn isn’t as fire-breathing as is rumored. She can be a dear.” Crinoline rustled as Noelle stood. She put her palms together and tapped her fingers. “Mother will be in Bath. She’s felt poorly of late, suffering with headaches, and is in seclusion. Aunt Penn may consider herself an expert on families of the Ton, but she doesn’t know everyone. Father has cousins scattered all the way into Scotland.”
The School for Brides Page 13
