The hollow pit of shame sank deeper in her belly. “You surprised me, that’s all.” She shook her head. “I know…I realize now…that you didn’t mean to kiss me. Not for real. You were only helping with the ruse.” She looked away. “And I probably actually do need the practice.”
With her heart racing with anxiety, she waited for some semblance of a response. But nothing came. He stood there as if carved from stone.
Hesitantly, she looked up and met his gaze. Those emerald eyes were like firestorms, barely contained. It took every ounce of Edwina’s self-control not to look away, she was so ashamed. “I implore you to look past my…utter stupidity and continue to help me.”
“Why?”
She blinked. “Why what?”
“If my very presence is so offensive to you, why did you pick me to help you at all? And don’t give me any of your nonsense about being perfect for the job. You knew this plan of yours would require us to pretend to be lovers. Yet you jump at my very touch.”
“I suppose…I suppose I picked you because I wouldn’t find your presence offensive.”
A look of derision entered his stormy gaze.
“No, I mean it, Prescott. I respect you and know that I couldn’t pretend otherwise with someone I didn’t.”
“I’ve never heard such bloody poppycock in all my life.” He stepped around her and strode down the street.
“I do respect you!” She rushed to follow, dashing alongside him. “I respect the fact that you come from humble beginnings but are not ashamed of your past. That you’ve developed a stronger character from the experience.”
Maneuvering so that she didn’t fall down an under-staircase, Edwina bustled alongside him. “I respect the fact that you are working to improve your life, that you make choices and make no excuses for them. You are who you are and make no apology for it.”
Was it her imagination or were his steps beginning to slow?
“I’m impressed by your ability to deal with people, when I feel like I botch up so many of the relationships I care about.”
She licked her lips. “It is because I respect you I feel I can go through this whole charade, plot, ruse, whatever you may call it…with some semblance of…respect for myself. With some sense that I am allied with someone…reliable.”
He stopped short, facing her, anger darkening his handsome features. “Is that how you see me? As reliable?”
Pressing her hand to her chest, she tried catching her breath. “As much more than that…I feel like with you, I’m not so very much…” She swallowed. “On my own.”
“On your own? You’ve a family, money, friends, hell, you have a whole bloody society.”
“Yes, but this blackmail business, it’s all up to me.” Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her worry for Ginny and all that would befall her and Judith if the truth of Ginny’s affair and Judith’s parentage came to light. “If I fail, then…well, it’s all up to me to ensure that it doesn’t. I feel like a dam holding back an onslaught of water. I’m not strong enough and need your support.”
She pressed her hands together in entreaty. “I need you, Prescott. And yes, you are perfect for the job because you are the only man I can imagine even pretending to be engaged to.”
“I suppose I should feel flattered,” he scoffed.
“As far as your touch…well.” She looked away. “I wasn’t lying, I’m not like the other ladies of your acquaintance. I’m not built for…passion. I’m not good at it and don’t know how to handle it.” She winced. “Which is obvious from how poorly I acted in the carriage.”
His brow furrowed. “Not built for passion? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Well, it’s true. And frankly, I’m a bit embarrassed by it.” She wanted to close her eyes to ward off the mortifying confession, but it was too late now, the truth was out there, bared for Prescott Devane to see.
His mouth opened and closed as if he was going to say something. Then instead, he reached for her, seizing her wrist and drawing her into an alcove eclipsed by darkness.
Gripping her waist, he pulled her close, up against his hard, virile form.
Her heart jumped, her mouth dried. “Ah…what are you doing?”
“Consider it an experiment.”
Then his head lowered and his lips pressed down to hers.
Edwina stiffened, waiting for him to be repulsed.
“This is not a tooth extraction, Edwina.” His lips softened, teasing her mouth with gentle kisses. “Please try to relax and enjoy it.”
Relax and enjoy it! How could she when she was about to expose herself to the ultimate humiliation?
His hand began to move in little swirls on her back, feeling really, really good. She liked the smell of him, the musk and man and a hint of cognac. His lips were so soft and did the most delicious things to her mouth. Those innocent kisses really were quite nice. She shivered.
Gently his lips urged her mouth open, moist, confident and…not so very innocent anymore.
Hesitantly she parted her lips, tasting cognac and, oddly, cinnamon. It was positively…decadent. A heady delight. Very, very nice.
His tongue touched hers. A lightning bolt of desire flashed through her so shockingly she gasped. Before she could think, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue entwined with hers, in a dance so seductively intimate, she groaned, closing her eyes.
His hands drifted to the arch in her back and she felt her body pitch against him. Heat unfurled in her middle and her skin flushed as if bathed in warm water.
His palms lowered to cup her derriere and desire flashed between her thighs, hot, fierce and demanding. Her insides were melting, her body aflame. She clutched him, gripping his shoulders as if never to let him go. Her soft breasts were crushed against his superfine coat and she felt the evidence of his desire pressing against her belly. Nothing had ever felt so fantastic in all her life.
He was like an elixir that melted her from within, molten heat transforming her mind to mush and her body into a puddle of fiery sensation.
Her world collapsed into itself, leaving only the darkness, his fervent embrace, the feel of his tongue gliding over hers, his lips teasing, sucking, flooding her mouth with pleasure as his hard body pressed against hers.
His hand kneaded her bottom, grinding her against him. Her muscles clenched with desire. Beneath her skirts, her legs parted, wanting him, needing him…everywhere.
His hand slid to her side, then glided up to cup her breast in his palm. She gasped for breath and her head fell against his shoulder as her heart raced and her body flamed.
Streams of pleasure coursed from that breast through her veins to every part of her body, making her blaze. Through the thin gown, he kneaded the soft flesh, gently drawing her hard nipple into his fingers and then massaging the tight nub. Her heart was hammering, her breath coming in half gasps, and a liquid heat burned within her as desire pulsed in her womanly core.
She shifted restlessly, wanting—no needing—more of him. Unabashedly, she reached for his face and drew his lips down to hers once more. His mouth was hot, wet, and inspired a hunger in Edwina she’d never known existed.
Suddenly he gripped her arms and pulled away, breathing hard.
“I didn’t mean for it to go so far…” he gasped.
She blinked, her mind muddled, her heart racing and her body still thrumming with desire. “Far…?”
Their panting echoed loudly in the silent alcove.
“So you’re not built for passion, eh?” he gasped as if having run a long race.
“Oh my heavens.” She blinked. “What the blazes?”
He straightened. “I, my dear Edwina,” he said, a self-satisfied ring to his voice, “just disproved your theory.”
“Smashed it to bits, more like it,” she murmured, dazed with wonderment.
Smiling, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the street. “Now we can go to the ball.”
“Ball? I think I need to sit d
own.” Either that or he could haul her back into his arms….
Pulling her into the light, he faced her and fixed her cowl. “There. You look fine. None the worse for wear.”
No worse for wear? Her world had just been spun on its axis.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he grinned like the cat who’d licked the cream. “Come along, Edwina. We have a blackmailer to catch.”
Ginny. How could she forget?
As she trailed alongside him, Edwina could no longer doubt she was in over her head.
But it was too late now; they were headed into the lion’s den.
Chapter 15
Drawing Edwina up alongside him, Prescott guided her toward the Vaughns’ abode, where evidence of the ball going on inside escaped from the open windows. Light from what seemed like a thousand candles spilled out onto the street and the sounds of an animated crowd and the chords of a minuet competed with the clattering horses’ hooves and raucous drivers and servants outside.
As Edwina fell in step beside him, she recognized that Prescott had shortened his stride to complement hers. It was likely a tactic he used with all of his lady companions. The thought rankled even though it shouldn’t.
She knew getting into this that Prescott Devane was no saint. Moreover, it was probably his vast experience with women that had enabled him to ignite her heretofore unknown passion.
The kiss, although earth-shattering to her, had obviously meant little enough to him.
Edwina couldn’t decide if she was relieved or upset by the thought.
Regardless, she needed to keep her mind on the plan, as he so gallingly did. The kiss that had rattled her senses had left him seemingly unfazed. She should be happy he wasn’t easily distracted. Thankful that he could keep his mind sharp, his senses keen, and the blackmailer foremost in his mind. Unlike how she’d forgotten about…well, everything, in the heat of that passionate kiss.
And she’d especially forgotten that her kisses were supposed to be repulsive.
Her mind still whirled with the revelations that she might just be built for passion after all. That she might actually appeal to a man, and a man who knew quite a lot about desire. Heady, mind-boggling, knee-melting desire…
Oh, Lord, if she didn’t stop lingering on that kiss, she’d likely go mad and not do Ginny a bit of good.
Purposefully, she pushed the whole matter from her mind, trying not to notice how her skirts kept brushing up against Prescott’s muscled thigh.
Ginny. She’d think of Ginny.
Prescott guided Edwina toward the alley running beside the Vaughns’ house. As servants walked to and fro carrying various supplies, a few shot curious glances their way.
As they penetrated the muck-scented lane, the sounds of the street diminished behind them and the music spilling from the windows above signaled that the orchestra had moved on to a Scottish reel.
“We’re not taking the servants’ entrance are we?” she asked, somewhat horrified. On the night of the ball it would be a veritable thoroughfare on market day and they would be the focus of hundreds of questioning eyes.
“No,” he reassured. “It would be too busy. And too overt.” He guided her into a recess with a closed door and banged on the wooden entry with his knuckles.
As they waited in the darkness, Edwina couldn’t help but feel a strange excitement; jumping from a carriage, stolen kisses in an alcove, secret entrances, well, it all felt so…illicit.
Suddenly the sounds of the bolt sliding in the barrel could be heard. The door creaked slowly open and light streamed into the passage.
Edwina blinked in the sudden glare, then a giant hulking form filled the entryway, blocking out any light from inside. She moved to step back, but Prescott pressed a hand over hers and held her closely to his side.
A sudden irrational thought flashed in her mind: She was alone in a darkened alleyway with Prescott and a giant stranger. What was she getting herself into?
“Don’t worry, my lady,” Prescott leaned over and whispered. “He’s a friend.”
The reassuring tenor of his voice and the knowledge of everything she knew about Prescott eased her qualms. But only somewhat. She reminded herself that she, and only she, was responsible for her safety and resolved to maintain her guard.
“Hello, Tomlin,” Prescott hailed.
The man stepped farther into the passage and the light spilled out of the doorway illuminating him in a dim halo.
Edwina had to crane her neck as the man had to be one of the largest specimens Edwina had ever seen. He stood at least two full heads taller than Prescott, but it was hard to tell the man’s exact height because of the lofty puff of wiry jet-black hair piled on top of his enormous head. A jaunty white cap perched in the black hair reminded Edwina of how a bird might sit in a bristly nest. It matched his white uniform, whose only adornment was gold embroidery on the high, stiff collar and cuffs.
The man’s tea-skinned face was broad, just like the rest of him and upon seeing Prescott, his wide lips split into a yellow-toothed grin. “Upon my ’onor! It’s the famous Prescott Devane!” The man’s booming voice was so deep it sounded as if it was tumbling from a mountain.
Tomlin slapped a beefy hand to Prescott’s back and Prescott barely held back a wince. “When Val told me you was coming, I almost busted a seam in me fancy new uniform.” He gestured to his gold-embroidered white coat. “Like it?”
“Sally must love washing the chocolate stains out of that,” Prescott replied.
“His lordship has his laundress cleaning my uniforms. And Sally’s thrilled to be done with it. Thinks it’s Christmastide every day, she does.”
Prescott pursed his lips and nodded, seemingly impressed. “That’s a sure sign you’re moving up, Tomlin.”
The man’s great shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Things are better ’n yesterday, but who’s ta say—”
“Not as good as tomorrow,” Prescott finished for him.
The men shared a smile.
Edwina realized that there was an easiness between them, one she hadn’t witnessed when Prescott was with Dr. Winner or Fanny. She wondered how they knew each other.
Tomlin scowled. “But why didn’t ya come to me party?”
“I was feeling a bit…under the weather.”
Even though Prescott had an amazing excuse, an injury from saving a young girl’s life, he didn’t seem to make much of it. Interesting.
Tomlin pointed a sausagelike finger at Prescott. “Next year then. But no excuses, naw. We go too far back ta let things fade.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
To Edwina, the big man explained. “Prescott ’ere, ’e’s the one who made me go back into the kitchen when all the other lads were calling me ‘Tomlin the Tartlet’ and ‘Pastry Fingers’ an’ a lot of other things I can’t say in yer fine company. ’E tol’ me the same wretches that made fun o’ me would soon be beggin’ for a taste o’ the crumbs from my plate.”
“You’re ‘Little Tom,’ the famous pastry cook!” Edwina suddenly realized.
“So you’ve heard of him?” Prescott asked.
Recalling what Janelle had said, she gushed, “My friend told me that your pastry temple ruins could rival Rome’s and that they tasted positively decadent.”
The great man beamed. “The Lewiston grand dinner last month. That was one of my better Pièces Montrés.”
“Not as good as the one you made for Headmaster Dunn’s birthday, I’m sure.” Prescott turned to Edwina, his handsome face animated in the dim light. “It was magnificent. An exact replica of Andersen Hall, gates, stables, dairy and all. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Prescott shook his head, obviously amazed. “He made the staff of Andersen Hall out of marzipan. It was brilliant!”
Tomlin cackled. “Getting that sour expression on the miniature Mrs. Nagel was the toughest part!”
Prescott grinned. “I don’t know how you got the broom in her hand…”
“Landing right on Timm
y’s head!” Tomlin chuckled and his great shoulders shook.
“Do you remember when Headmaster Dunn ate himself?” Prescott beamed so widely his face looked younger, freer. “The kids screamed with merriment!”
“It was a fine day.” Tomlin nodded, smiling. Then his face fell and his brow furrowed. He sighed. “A fine…day.”
Heavy silence draped over them like a shroud as Prescott’s and Tomlin’s gazes locked in soundless empathy.
Prescott was the first to look away as he coughed into his fist. “I’m around you for a few moments, Tomlin, you big oaf, and I completely forget my manners.” Not meeting her eye, he gestured to Edwina. “Lady Ross, may I introduce Tomlin Burk, pastry cook extraordinaire.”
Tomlin bowed. “At yer service, me lady.”
Edwina nodded, feeling an ache in her chest for the loss these men shared. “I know it may sound trite, but anyone who knew Headmaster Dunn is now all the poorer for his loss.”
Tomlin nodded. “’E was as good as they come, my lady. As good as they come.” He fixed a hard gaze on Prescott. “I heard about Catherine.”
Edwina felt Prescott stiffen.
“’Twas a shock ta be sure. But part o’ me ain’t surprised.” Tomlin opened his hands wide. “How are you—”
“Thanks for letting us in this way, Tomlin,” Prescott interrupted. “I didn’t want to be announced. You know how I hate drawing attention to myself.”
The big man nodded, seemingly accepting Prescott’s rebuff. “Oh, I’m glad to see ya, Devane. Even though, as usual, y’er going where y’er not invited.”
It was nice how Prescott took the blame for her not wanting to be announced. But more importantly, who was Catherine and why was Prescott so uncomfortable discussing her?
Tomlin smiled at his friend. “Look, I gotta get back. I’ve got soufflés in the oven. Sally’s been askin’ after ya. When can I tell her you’ll be comin’ by again?”
“Her birthday’s in a few weeks. How about then?”
Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] Page 12
