by Lauren Smith
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mr. Banks.”
Martin rose and approached her chair, holding his hand out to her.
If you do this, there will be no going back.
She placed her palm in his, sealing her fate.
7
Martin curled his fingers around Livvy’s hand as they left the dining room. Just the simple act of touching her, even innocently, sent flutters of excitement through him. Damn, he was as nervous as a green lad. He had seen the warmth and desire in her eyes, and it emboldened him. Yet he had given his word. And truth be told, he grew more and more reluctant to suggest such intimacy in light of her reasons for being here. God, what had he been thinking to take a woman in lieu of a debt? And yet she intrigued him in ways he could not fully describe. If only they had met under better circumstances.
But if she wished it, he would give her a world of pleasure. He would worship her body for hours until she fell into an exhausted sleep. The thought was so inviting and so arousing that he had trouble controlling his body’s natural excitement.
The grandfather clock in the hall chimed the late hour, the soft metallic dings breaking the easy silence between them as they ascended the stairs to his bedchamber.
Steering her toward his bedchamber, he couldn’t help but pull her closer. The brush of her skirts against his legs was so distractingly soft, and the tilt of her head and the momentary question in her eyes was like the quiet stirrings of a fire in the early morning hours.
He stopped at the door to his rooms and turned toward her, offering his most reassuring smile. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the backs of her fingers as their eyes met and held. She gave a little nod of agreement, and then he turned the door handle and pushed his door open.
The footman had lit the lamps, and the fire in his bedchamber felt cozy and inviting. Like Livvy’s room, it was in an Egyptian style with sphinxes, lotus leaves, and gold painted wood accents. He’d often wondered if he’d gone too far in his designs, but he rather liked the exotic feel to the two bedchambers.
He’d been to Egypt once, only for a brief period of time, but the place had left a lingering hunger for hot, sultry nights, gauzy curtains of bright colors, and the whisper of rushes by the Nile. He’d done his best to bring that feeling home. His bed was large, the frame sturdy and the bedclothes expensive, the dark-red colors creating a more masculine tone than the soft blues of her room.
“It’s like my chamber,” she exclaimed, smiling at him.
“You like it? I felt a little silly indulging in this much decoration, but I think it is rather magnificent.”
“It is magnificent! I adore Egyptian decorations.” She reached out to touch the red silk hanging around his bed before she turned to face him. She leaned back against the bedpost and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Only a foot separated them, and he could see the fan of her dark lashes as she looked up at him. His body tightened with arousal, but he didn’t want to rush this moment.
“I’ve been to Egypt,” he announced, then felt foolish for bragging. But her eyes widened.
“You have?”
“Yes, it was simply incredible.” He could barely put into words what it was like, but he wanted to try. “The air is warm and dry there all the time, and there’s always a scent of some sweet flower in the air that reminded me of honeysuckle. I think it was the lotus flowers. I loved the colors and the food with its wild spices. Coming back home seemed so bland.” He reached up to brush his fingers along her cheek, and she leaned into the touch.
“Did you visit the temples? Or the pyramids?”
He nodded eagerly. “Karnak was perhaps my favorite, but the pyramids were impressive. It was a bit like standing before the gates of the Egyptian gods, seeing structures so immense one could not imagine how mere mortals ever built them.”
“I wish I could see the world as you have.” She sighed softly, and it made his heart sink. He knew how she felt: trapped, impoverished, destined never to leave London. It was the fate of most people to never set foot on a path that would take them far and away to places full of adventure.
“I promise you that I will take you somewhere. India, Egypt…choose and we will go.”
She eyed him incredulously. He leaned in a little, cupping her face, his gaze torn between her lips and her eyes.
“You shouldn’t make promises you don’t intend to keep,” she whispered, her tone broken. It made his chest ache.
“If I make any promise worth keeping, it is that one. I will take you wherever you wish to go.” He burned the vow deep inside his heart. He would give her a chance to be free from the hard life of London, even if only for a little while. She seemed to believe him and reached up to place a hand on his shoulder.
“You make me want to believe in a life of beauty and passion.” Her eyes dropped to half-mast and focused on his lips.
“You make me feel the same way.” That damned fluttering started up in his chest again, and they shared a small smile between them, one full of nervous excitement. He couldn’t help what he blurted out next.
“I want you,” he said, and swallowed his foolish excitement. Why did she make him feel like such a young man? He wasn’t a lad of eighteen anymore.
“I think perhaps…that I want you too.” She reached up, touching his waistcoat. Her fingers glided over the blue silk, and he tried to ignore the hunger inside that was shouting at him to grab and kiss her.
“You think? You are not sure?” He caught a glimpse of her white teeth as she bit her bottom lip.
“I’ve never done this before. I’m not entirely certain I know what wanting someone is like.”
Her innocent confession made him groan softly. He covered the hand that lay on his chest, stroking the back of her hand down to her delicate wrist.
“How does it feel when I touch you?” he asked, stroking her skin.
“It makes me shiver.”
“Shiver good, or shiver bad?” Martin watched her eyes as he trailed his fingers down her arm to her elbow. Her lashes fluttered.
“Good,” she answered. “Very good.”
“And this?” He leaned in, tilting her face away so he could press his lips to the sensitive spot just behind her right ear. She clutched his shoulders, suddenly gasping as he flipped the tip of his tongue along her skin. If there was one thing he knew aside from how to build a fortune, it was where to kiss a woman to make her body hum to life.
“Good,” she panted. “Very good.” She didn’t push him away, and when he made as though to step back, she clung to him harder.
“Livvy, whatever happens between us… I don’t want you to do it because you have to. You understand?” Martin had no idea why he suddenly wanted to play the hero. They both knew he owned her due to her father’s debt, but she was still free to tell him no…or preferably yes.
Her eyes were clouded with confusion. “But you brought me here for…”
“I know I did, but I’m not a monster. My bringing you here was because of your father and the pain he caused me. You are not him, and I don’t wish to hurt you. While I insist upon your company, I will make no demands upon your body, now or ever. But…if you want me, want to share my bed, all you need do is tell me.”
Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them as she considered his words and her own feelings. He could see her desire to be with him at war with her need to prove that she did indeed have that power. Her eyes raised to his, and he saw a bold look in them that gave him hope.
“I wish to be here…with you.” A heavy blush stained her cheeks, and he felt almost giddy with a rush of joy at her words.
She started to speak again, but a footman knocked and entered with a tray of lemon-flavored ices. Martin took the tray and thanked the servant before he closed the door.
“Please, I insist.” He handed her a small bowl and a dainty dessert spoon. She accepted them and leaned back against his bedpost again, tasting the ice.
“You may sit on the
bed. It won’t invite me to ravage you,” he teased. But it did give him terribly wicked ideas about he how he would ravage her if given the opportunity.
Livvy perched on the edge of the bed, and he joined her. They ate in silence, and when she was finished, he took her bowl and set it on the night table beside the bed.
“I want to thank you for today,” Livvy said. “For the clothes, the jewels, the horse.” She reached up to touch the pearls as she spoke.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he assured her. “I was merely holding up my end of the terms we agreed upon.” He didn’t like to think about buying her affections. It had never bothered him before, but his previous mistresses had come to him of their own free will. With Livvy it was different. “I fear I started this thing between us badly,” he admitted.
“Some would say irreparably,” she replied, but her tone was colored with a light amusement. “I should hate you, but well, I think you aren’t so terrible now.” She was speaking more clearly now, less afraid of him and their situation than before.
“Not so terrible?” he echoed, his pride a little bruised.
She met his gaze, her bravery clear in her eyes. “I need more time.”
“More time?” Then all was not lost. She hadn’t said she wished to be left alone completely. Livvy was beginning to trust him and to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her or take away her power of choice.
“Yes. But…” Her face flushed. “You may kiss me good night.” Her lips curved in a hesitant smile. He could see she was acting very courageous.
“One kiss, then,” he said, and leaned over to cup her face in his palm. Her eyes shimmered with the candlelight, and he felt his entire body focus on her lips. He fought to control the dizzying currents racing through him.
One kiss… I must make it count.
Their lips met in a press of velvet heat, making desire sing in his veins. He explored her mouth, taking his time, tracing her lips with his tongue. It felt like they were sharing intimate whispers as they both breathed in unison. How could kissing Livvy feel like such ecstasy? How could he become drunk on her taste? His tired soul seemed to shiver back to life the longer he kissed her.
Livvy quivered as he let his lips turn rougher. He wanted her to taste his hunger, to feel his need pulsing between them. He wanted to break his promise of one kiss and show her that her hunger matched his own. His senses reeled as he finally broke their mouths apart. She was clutching him again, her need for more shining her eyes.
“One kiss good night. Well delivered, I trust.” He nuzzled her cheek before she slid off the bed and backed away.
“Yes, it was. Until tomorrow.”
She retreated to the door and stepped into the corridor, but his heart was still pounding long after she’d gone. His body was tightly wound, and he knew it would be hard to relax after having Livvy so close to being in his bed.
He settled back on his bed and blew out a frustrated breath. Never in his life had a woman tied him up in such knots.
I may have made a grave mistake in bringing her here.
Livvy pressed her fingers to her lips, smiling at the memory of his kiss. Had she really asked him to kiss her good night?
I did.
And it had been wonderful. Too wonderful. Yet he’d kept his promise, and nothing had happened beyond that kiss. She shouldn’t have asked him to keep it to just one kiss. Yet there was a small rational bit of her that was glad she’d managed to buy some time to calm things down between them. If she acted foolishly and rushed headlong into things with Mr. Banks, it would break her heart.
She entered her bedchamber and was relieved to see Mellie laying out a thin, lacy nightgown.
“How was dinner?” the maid asked.
“Lovely. More lovely than I expected,” Livvy admitted.
“I hope the master was on his best behavior?”
“Good enough, I would say,” she giggled. He’d nearly convinced her to toss all good reason aside and stay in his bed tonight. She knew she would at some point do just that, but she wanted to see how strong she was, and more importantly to see if he kept his promise of letting her choose how fast their relationship would progress.
Mellie twirled a finger in the air. “Let me unbutton you.”
She offered the maid her back, and Mellie started unbuttoning her gown.
“As long as you are enjoying your time here, that is all that matters.”
Livvy bit her lip, thinking it over. She was enjoying it. Yes, she and Martin hadn’t had the best beginning, and yes, she was here to pay her father’s debt…but she felt less restricted than she’d expected. Less a prisoner and more a guest. Perhaps her situation wouldn’t be so terrible? The gown dropped from her, and she waited for Mellie to undo her stays.
“He said he is taking me riding tomorrow,” she added, then relaxed as the tight stays loosened.
“That will be wonderful. He loves to ride, even in the winter. He usually goes alone, mind you, so it will be quite a treat for him to have a lovely lady to escort.”
“He didn’t ride with…his other mistresses?”
“Oh no!” Mellie chuckled. “He only took them in his carriage. Riding is something he enjoys to do alone.”
Well that was something. She didn’t like to think that she was like all those other women who had come before her, and she especially didn’t want to be treated like them.
Once she was in her nightgown, she removed the pearl earrings and necklace and placed them carefully in the hands of the lady’s maid.
Mellie sighed. “So lovely.”
“Aren’t they?” She waited for her to undo the pins in her hair. The two girls giggled as Mellie combed her hair out. Then Livvy climbed into bed, and Mellie added two more logs to the fireplace before she slipped into the corridor and left Livvy to sleep.
Livvy blew out the last candle by her bed. Then she puffed her pillow, nestled into the covers, and closed her eyes. It was no good. She couldn’t stop herself reliving that kiss and how wonderful it felt. The thought of it still plagued her. She was falling too quickly into Martin’s seduction. No self-respecting lady would let that happen. Yet she had.
What if it was all one elaborate deception? What if he wasn’t the man she’d hoped he was, the kind, sweet, seductive man she was starting to care about?
8
Hyde Park in the winter was truly magnificent. The ice glittered from the tips of the bare branches like crystals hanging from chandeliers. Livvy marveled at the sight from the back of her new horse, a dappled gray mare that was utter perfection. The mare’s black nose and four dark socks along with the mix of shadowy gray spotted coloring was exquisite and unique. The horse was sturdy like a thoroughbred, yet her legs were more slender and curved like an Arabian.
“Well then? How do you like her?” Martin asked as he maneuvered his own dark-gray gelding close to hers.
“She’s wonderful. Wherever did you find her?” Livvy asked. She kept a careful eye on the other riders in the park, since the ice was still slick upon the ground and she feared their horses might slip and collide with another horse and rider.
“She was bred by an acquaintance of mine, Viscount Sheridan. I mentioned him before. He and the Duchess of Essex have developed a successful breeding arrangement in the last three years, siring three excellent foals. The duchess has excellent thoroughbreds, and Sheridan has Arabians. I met with Sheridan at Tattersall’s and thought she would be perfect for you.”
Livvy patted the horse’s neck and looked at Martin. He seemed every bit the fine gentleman in his tan breeches, green waistcoat, and dark-blue greatcoat. When their gazes met, she flushed with the memory of his kiss last night.
“Thank you,” she said quickly.
A glint of amusement lit his blue eyes. “You are most welcome. How does your riding habit fit?” He assessed her outfit with a critical eye.
“Fine.” She blushed and glanced away. She would never get used to having Martin look at her like that…like h
e owned her. There was no cruelty in his gaze, but there was possessiveness, just not the way she wanted. She wanted—yes, wanted—him to look at her with the possessiveness of a man passionately in love. In the Gothic novels she cherished, the heroes were always a little callous in the beginning and would later transform into gentlemen in love.
She knew that once Martin sent her home, she would never have that chance again. She would be lost to good society, damaged goods. She would be lucky if she could hide away from the world, but most likely she would have to seek out another protector.
Protector. What a handsome word for a man who would use her for his own pleasure. It would be nothing more than a business transaction.
My body for his money.
Her stomach rolled fitfully, and she raised her chin, staring straight ahead.
“Livvy, what’s wrong?” Martin asked.
“Nothing is wrong.” She sniffed. Damnation. She would not cry, not in front of him.
“Livvy…” Martin reached over and grasped the reins of her horse, pulling them to a stop. She had to look at him now.
“’Tis the cold air making my nose run,” she lied.
For a long moment he stared at her, then sighed heavily and let go of the reins, and they started moving again. They completed a circle of the park, and Livvy suddenly noticed several pieces of paper scattered on the ground. Something was printed on them.
“What are those, Mr. Banks?” She pointed to the ground.
“I’ll have a look.” He slid off his horse and knelt, picking up a pamphlet. Then he read aloud.
“Notice, whereas you J. Frost have by force and violence taken possession of the River Thames, I hereby give you warning to quit immediately. Signed A. Thaw. Printed by S. Warner on the ice.” He turned the paper up toward her, suddenly grinning. “By God, they must be having a frost fair!”
