Lord Libertine

by Gail Ranstrom

  And that was the reason she must see Lord Wycliffe again and urge him to resume his investigations. There had to be a way to honor her promise to Cora without shaming her family, but she could not think what. Tonight could well be her last night free of obligations for a very long time.

  She had found no solutions by the time she entered the building where the Home Office was located, only more reasons to be concerned. Though the clerk had bade her to sit while he summoned Lord Wycliffe, she had paced instead, unable to calm her nerves. Would she be turned away as a nuisance?

  A moment later Lord Wycliffe arrived and ushered her into his private office. There were stacks of papers on every flat surface, including the floor. A massive desk was cluttered with folders, reports and files, and he had to clear the seat of a chair to accommodate her.

  “Please, Miss O’Rourke, sit down. May I offer you a cup of tea? I can have my clerk—”

  She glanced at a decanter on a bookshelf behind his desk. “I…I would rather have a glass of sherry, Lord Wycliffe.”

  If he was surprised, he covered it quickly. “By all means, Miss O’Rourke.”

  She took the glass from him and waited for him to sit. “I am sorry I did not make an appointment, but I came on the spur of the moment.”

  “Quite all right. What can I do for you?”

  “My sister. Have you made any progress in your investigation?”

  He stared at her for a moment and then poured his own sherry. “Miss O’Rourke, I thought I informed you that we had exhausted our leads and that we were moving on to cases we could solve.”

  “Then reconsider, sir. My sister deserves justice.”

  “I understand and I agree. But we haven’t the resources—”

  Bella hated herself for begging, and for the tears that rushed to her eyes. “If you do nothing, My Lord, I shall have to do it myself.”

  The man sat back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully as he took a sip from his glass. “Are you not already doing so?”

  Heat swept up from her toes. “You know?”

  “I’ve heard. You are making quite a splash as Lady Lace.”

  “You would not reveal me, would you, sir?”

  His expression somber, he shook his head. “But I am concerned for your safety.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “If you will not resume your investigation, I really have no choice in the matter, but you must know that I cannot go on much longer. I will be found out, and my family will be shamed.”

  “I am sorry for that, Miss O’Rourke, but the choice is yours.”

  The tears she could not shed in front of her mother began to flow now and she rummaged in her reticule to find a handkerchief. “You heard what my sister said to me, Lord Wycliffe. You heard her plea and my promise to her. If you will not find her murderer, then what else am I to do?”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “Have faith, Miss O’Rourke.”

  She shook her head. “My faith died with Cora.”

  Lord Wycliffe came around his desk and gave her an awkward pat on her shoulder. “Miss O’Rourke, I have contacts, agents whose job is to ferret out information. If I should hear of anything that could help you, I will send for you.”

  “Only my sister, Eugenia, is aware of what I am about. My mother is completely ignorant of my doings.”

  “Yes, Miss O’Rourke. I understand. You can depend upon my discretion. If I find anything, I will be careful that it is delivered into your hands only.”

  It was little enough, but it was something. Bella squared her shoulders and stood. “I will thank you for whatever help you can give me, Lord Wycliffe.”

  He opened the door for her and stood aside to let her pass. “Please, Miss O’Rourke, be very careful. The men who did that to your sister are capable of anything.”

  Chapter Eleven

  From his position at the rouge et noir table, Andrew saw Bella enter Thackery’s main salon. She handed the footman her cloak and lifted her chin a bit defiantly. Did she suspect he was here and would challenge her? As to that, he was still undecided.

  She took some coins from her reticule and changed them for counters, then climbed the curved staircase to the mezzanine. He could not keep his gaze from her. This was the first time he’d seen her in anything but her habitual black. She was wearing a charmingly cut gown of sleek plum gray that complemented her complexion. Her gleaming hair had been secured at the crown with matching ribbons. Her dress’s small train swept the stairs behind her, teasing him to follow. As if he needed such an inducement.

  The croupier called the color and Andrew walked away. Bella hadn’t seen him, and that gave him the advantage. He took the stairs two at a time and followed her through the glass doors into the salon, then stepped aside into the shadows. Would she give him a reason to stop her tonight?

  The men nearest her moved like moths to her flame. She was immediately surrounded by four of them. Perhaps Johnson had told his friends what an easy mark she was. Or, at least, how easy it was to coax a kiss from her. The anger began to churn in his belly again.

  Bella sent two of the men away, fair-haired lads from the country, and linked arms with the other two. She seemed nervous, but she kept an unwaveringly pleasant look on her face. The three of them sat on one of the benches and kept up a lively conversation punctuated by laughter. What a determined little tart she was!

  And then, just as he’d suspected, she leaned toward the man on her left, who was peeking down her neckline. She lifted her face to his and dropped her eyelids to mask her gaze. The man accepted the invitation and met her lips with restrained fervor. Andrew’s hands curled into fists.

  After a scant moment she broke the contact and shook her head. She turned to the man on her right and smiled. Was it his turn now? Yes. He bent to her mouth with a confident grin.

  Andrew stepped forward. He’d be damned if he’d stand by and watch her share intimacies with strangers. She was his. He had marked her, laid claim to her, the last time they’d been at Thackery’s. Pride held him back. And curiosity.

  This man’s kiss was longer, and he noted that Bella pushed at his chest as if trying to dislodge him. She turned her head, but her companion cupped hers to hold her immobile.

  Cold fury ignited in Andrew’s gut—whether at Bella or her overeager swain, he couldn’t say. A few long strides had him behind the man in seconds. He jerked him to his feet and slammed him against the wall, leaning in so that his face was inches away.

  “Leave the lady be,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

  “Lady?” the man asked. “Do you see someone I do not?”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Bella’s wince.

  “The little whore ought not to be leading men on. She’ll give me what I want tonight, or I’ll know the reason why.” He pushed Andrew away with a rough shove.

  “Allow me to give you a reason why,” Andrew said. He stood his ground and delivered a punishing blow to the man’s stomach that brought him to his knees.

  “Mr. Hunter! Please!” Bella pulled at his coat sleeve. “You are drawing attention.”

  “And you, madam? Do you think your behavior is circumspect?”

  “I…I have more success when you are not present,” she said, her cheeks growing bright pink. “I suspect I am in greater danger from you than from anyone here.”

  His opponent on his knees, gasping for breath, Andrew turned on her. “You put yourself in this position, Bella. What would have happened to you had I not been here?”

  She glanced about as if looking for the answer from a stranger. “You…you had no right to interfere.”

  “No right?” He reached across the distance between them and ran his knuckles across her collarbone where he’d left his mark. “I own you, madam.” He glanced around the room, noting the faces turned toward them. “Tomorrow there will not be a man in London who does not know it. Who will you kiss then?”

  Andrew’s opponent lurched to his
feet. “Welcome to her,” he muttered under his breath and staggered toward the punch bowl.

  The color drained from Bella’s cheeks. “Why can you not leave me alone, Mr. Hunter? What have I done to you? You are ruining everything.”

  “Leaving your first two questions for later, madam, tell me what, exactly, I am ruining? Your opportunity to dupe another man? To make a name for yourself? To find a new protector? Is my cash not as good as anyone else’s?”

  “If…if you want me, you will have to kiss me.”

  Good God! Did she think that would stop him? Take her, Drew. Purge your blood of her the only way you can. She knows you want it. She expects it. Hell, she has provoked it. Dash was right. Her veiled invitation to a kiss was an invitation to more.

  No, he would never kiss her. For some reason, she had discounted their first—and only—kiss. But for that single instance, she was done with a man once she’d gotten a kiss, and he could not risk that. He’d deny them both that little intimacy to be certain she was never done with him.

  Without another word he lifted her in his arms and carried her out the glass doors and to the nearest corridor. The gossip in the morning be damned. He went to the room at the end of the passageway, kicked the door open and deposited Bella on the velvet coverlet before returning to lock the door and wedge a chair beneath the knob for good measure.

  Bella scrambled to the side of the bed and stood. He had his back to her, securing the door. She glanced around the dimly lit room, hoping to find another door or some manner of escape. None but a single window with a long drop to the alley!

  This room was similar to the one he’d taken her to the last time they’d been at Thackery’s, but the furnishings were all in deep green rather than red. Plush carpeting muffled her footsteps, and thick walls covered in velvet gave her little hope any cries for help would be heard. The window was open a crack and the light curtain shifted on a night breeze. Oh, if only she weren’t afraid of heights!

  He turned to her and gave her a smile that chilled her to the bone. There was nothing mirthful there, only confident and satisfied. He knew he was in control and he was relishing her fear. There was nothing for it but to face him down. It had worked last time. It would work now.

  She held her ground and lifted her chin. “What now, Mr. Hunter? A repeat of the last time you had me alone?”

  “A repeat? Oh, no, Bella. I never repeat.”

  She swallowed hard as he came slowly toward her. “A…a variation of the same, then? But it will not matter. You will not move me, and you will not stop me.”

  “Stop you from what? Kissing men? Taking on two at a time? Maybe I do not care beyond getting my share.”

  “Of kisses? Then I win, Mr. Hunter, since you have sworn never to kiss me again.”

  “And maybe I do not mean kisses when I say I want my share.”

  “Were you bluffing when you said that you own me?”

  “I never bluff, sweetheart. You will learn that about me soon enough.”

  Everything sensible inside her called for her to retreat, but pride proved stronger than good sense. He arrived before her and reached out to trace the mark he’d left on her throat, covered now with rice powder. “Maybe I want more of this.”

  She swallowed and kept her expression neutral as his finger dragged downward to the cleft just barely visible above her neckline. “Or this,” he said, his voice lowering to a husky whisper.

  She shivered, and gooseflesh rose on her arms.

  He laughed. “I must say that I admire your ability to keep an unmoved expression, even as your body betrays you. Which shall I listen to, sweet Bella? Your body or your words?”

  “M-my words.”

  He shook his head. “I think not, love. Your body does not lie, but those luscious lips do.”

  He moved close enough for her to feel his heat and the soft caress of his breath. She lifted her face to him and parted her lips. “I have never lied to you.”

  “Nor have you told me the truth.” His hands moved down from her shoulders and cupped her breasts in a touch so delicate that she nearly moaned. “But look how sweetly these talk to me, Bella. No curses, no dares or defiance, just a mute request for more.”

  His thumbnails flicked over her aroused nipples through the fabric of her gown, and her knees weakened. How could she let him do this to her? How could she allow him such intimacy when he so obviously disliked her?

  Her arms were leaden at her sides, but her tongue was agile enough. “Are you certain you can tell the difference between loathing and desire, Mr. Hunter?”

  He chuckled, a throaty sound that sent a little quiver up her spine. “Oh, my dear, you may be certain I know the difference.”

  Heavens! She hadn’t even given him pause!

  His hands moved to the hooks holding her bodice closed and they were undone so quickly and skillfully that she did not have time to frame a rebuke. But when he slipped the laces at the top of her chemise, she found her wits and began to back away.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” he told her, following her pace for pace until her back hit the wall. “Interesting, is it not, that you demur when it is too late?”

  “Too late?”

  “Far too late. Far, far too late. In fact, it became too late when you decided to kiss two men at the same time.”

  “But…”

  “Too late for buts as well.” He tugged the gathers open and freed her breasts, then pushed the sleeves of her gown down over her arms until it fell to the floor before he took one step back to examine the result.

  “Just a chemise? No stays? Dear, oh dear, oh dear! Such a naughty girl.”

  “I…I…” At last she was freed of her stupor and crossed her arms over her chest. “I could not fasten stays alone.”

  “What? No help? No lady’s maid? No…sister?”

  She blinked. Had there been a hint of a threat in that word? What did he know about her sisters?

  “Ah, well. Never mind. This just makes my job easier. Come now, Bella, uncross your arms. Too late to play coy.”

  “Mr. Hunter! I insist—”

  “Andrew,” he said. “Formality seems absurd under the circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I…no! That would suggest a familiarity we do not share.”

  He laughed. “Oh, Bella, believe me, you are about to earn the right to call me anything you wish.”

  She shrank back against the wall again. “I—”

  “Well, yes. We can do it here against the wall, if you wish, but I thought the bed might be more comfortable.”

  She glanced right and left, puzzled. “What?”

  “This…” He bent and tilted his head to nibble her earlobe.

  She caught her breath, half afraid, half seduced by the sensation. His breath was hot in her ear and his faint groan sent a vibration through her.

  “Your flesh is so sweet, Bella. I cannot think when I’ve tasted sweeter. Are you as sweet all over, I wonder?”

  Oh, she hoped so, if it meant he would keep nibbling. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall as he shifted his attention to the hollow of her throat. Lethargy made her limbs heavy and she wove her fingers through his hair to hold him close. She should fight. She should struggle, or at least protest. He could still be Cora’s killer. Oh, but how could she believe that when he was working such magic on her?

  He dragged the tapes of her chemise down her arms, baring her flesh as he nudged it lower with his chin, kissing his way downward. Holding her fast by the waist, he captured one aroused nipple between his teeth and gave it a little tug.

  “Oh!” Something deep in her belly tingled and awoke a hunger for more. Her knees threatened to give out, but he held her steady, bearing her weight with no sign of strain. He continued his attention to her breasts, first one and then the other, until she thought she would scream with pleasure.

  What was happening to her? Why did she not protest? Cry foul? Why did she just stand here and thrill with an
ticipation about what he might do next? And, oh, all she could think was that Andrew Hunter had been right all along—she would never forget the things he was doing to her. There could be nothing more distracting in all the world. She flattened her palms against the wall behind her, hoping to support herself.

  At last he released the ribbons of her chemise, and it dropped to the floor. She wanted to be good, to beg modesty, but it seemed too late for that now, especially when he returned his attention to her breasts before slipping further downward to her stomach as he knelt in front of her. There he ran his tongue around her navel, causing gooseflesh again.

  She came back to reality with a jolt when she realized he was unfastening her drawers. “Stop!”

  “Not now, Bella, and not for anytime soon,” he mumbled against her stomach. And her silk drawers puddled around her ankles.

  She groaned with embarrassment. All she was clad in now were her garters, stockings and slippers. He gripped her hips, holding her immobile as he kissed his way lower still. By the time she realized his intent, she was too late to stop him.

  “Andrew!”

  He chortled. “And there you have it, Bella. We are finally familiar enough for first names.”

  He stood and lifted her in his arms, the rough wool of his jacket scratching against her bare skin. Lord! He was still completely dressed and she was completely bare!

  Well, not completely. He placed her on the velvet counterpane and removed her slippers, watching her intently as he ran one strong hand up her leg to the garter. “Shall we leave them, Bella? A little naughty, perhaps, but then we’ve already established that you are a naughty girl. Hmm. Embraced between the silk of your stockings, or the silk of your skin? I cannot think which I crave most.”

  She used her hands to try to shield herself again, which incited another of his low laughs. She could only think of one thing that would stop him. “Kiss me, Andrew.”

  He blinked, and then a soft smile curved his mouth and the deep brown of his eyes heated her blood. “Oh, I intend to, sweet Bella.” He laid one finger across her mouth. “But not these lips.”