In Love With a Charming Brunette

by Tabetha Waite

  “Lady Beth may have mentioned something in passing.” A corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “I heard it’s not a union that you particularly want. That her father is pushing the match between you and the footman.”

  At first, Mercy was starting to panic, believing that Beth had betrayed her by giving away her real identity, but now she saw that she merely told a portion of what awaited her in London. “It’s true.” She sighed heavily. “I’m not ready to marry and be tied down as a wife and mother, even though everyone believes it’s for the best. I told myself it would only be for love, but unfortunately, some of us don’t have that luxury to wait for the fairy tale. That’s why I’m in Brighton, to strike back the only way I know how, by rebelling against all the rules that have been placed upon me.” She blushed. “By choosing a lover, it was something I had control over. But you must understand that an affair can’t go any further than last night. I can’t risk that my heart will become engaged. I already care for you far more than I should.”

  Her heart pounded as she waited for him to say something. She certainly hadn’t meant to offer such a full confession, but the words had suddenly spilled forth.

  “I care for you too,” he murmured softly. “I have duties that I must attend to when I return to London as well. You aren’t the only one tied down to a vow that was made.” He stepped closer to her. “It’s why I want to continue seeing you for the time we have remaining. If you want to keep things strictly platonic, that is perfectly fine with me because I enjoy your friendship. I just don’t want to give you up. Not yet.” He reached out and ran a gentle fingertip down her cheek.

  Mercy inhaled sharply. She could tell that she was swiftly falling back into this man’s spell, not that she had truly been able to resist him at all. “Come to me tonight.”

  His movements halted and he looked at her intently. “Are you sure? You just said that—”

  “I know what I said,” she returned firmly. “But you’re right. We should hold on to this time that we have together and make the most of it, for who knows what lies ahead?”

  He smiled slowly. “In that case, I am more than happy to oblige.”

  ***

  Mercy paced her chamber later that evening. Lady Franson was staying the night at Miss Lively’s, as had been her habit since arriving, and Beth was attending another scandalous ball at the Mansion with Lord Devon and Lord Crawford as her escorts. She planned to retire next door when the entertainments were over to embark on her own scandalous pursuits.

  Leaving Mercy with no interruptions when Freddie came to call. She wasn’t even sure why she might be nervous, except for the fact she was willingly embarking on this ruinous path, one that could well cost her everything.

  She thought of her parents and how disappointed that they would be in her latest exploits, and Lord Westbrook…

  She winced at the image she conjured of his reaction. He would, no doubt, be furious that he was a cuckold before they’d even had the chance to meet. He might even sever their impending engagement before he’d even had a chance to propose properly. Or even worse, go through with their vows, only to treat her harshly for the rest of her days.

  She shuddered, telling herself that she had to quit allowing her mind free rein. As long as she was cautious, then she should be able to return to London with no one the wiser, and after she was wed to the viscount, add a bit of pig’s blood to the sheets as Beth had instructed and act as though nothing was amiss.

  And if she became with child before then, she would just act as though the babe came early. She’d heard of such things happening many times before, mainly whispered behind fluttering fans. Most generally it was an older gentleman who was in wont of an heir and his much younger wife that he’d wed in haste who had suddenly birthed the requisite child he had required when it was likely nothing more than a scandalously patched up affair.

  An image of a decrepit viscount flashed into her mind, but she pushed it aside. Her parents surely wouldn’t marry her off to someone old enough to be her grandfather if Westbrook denied her.

  It was a mixture of her whirling mind and the anticipation of Freddie’s arrival that had her at sixes and sevens. And perhaps it was the fact she’d donned a red nightdress for the occasion and she was anxious to see what he thought.

  A light knock at her bedchamber door made her gasp. He’s here.

  Mercy smoothed her hands down her robe and opened the door — where she promptly froze.

  In front of Freddie’s face was a breathtaking array of white roses. He peeked out from the other side of the bouquet and gave her a smile that weakened her knees. “Good evening, Faith.”

  She was quickly coming to detest her ladies’ maid’s name, but at the moment, it really didn’t matter what he called her, for he was perfectly resplendent in his casual attire — buff trousers, black boots and a white cambric shirt — and nothing else. His state of undress was more intoxicating than if he’d worn formal attire.

  “Freddie. Come in.” She found her voice and opened the door wider. He walked in, a towering male presence with a confident stride and a dashing smile.

  He stopped in the midst of her room and did a small pirouette. “Very nice,” he murmured. He headed toward the terrace and the open doors she had yet to close.

  “And a rather lovely view.” However, as he said this, he was looking at her, and not the sea beyond.

  Mercy’s cheeks heated as she clasped her hands before her, not quite sure how to accomplish this whole seduction technique just yet. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  He lifted a lazy brow. “What do you have?”

  She opened her mouth to reply and then realized that, unless she rang for tea, she had no idea if there were any spirits readily available. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” She gestured to the door. “I could check downstairs—”

  He leaned against the balcony doors and crossed one ankle over the other. “I’d rather you came over here and joined me.”

  Oh. She pasted on a smile and walked forward, stopping far enough away that they weren’t touching, but close enough that he could reach out and pull her to him if he chose.

  He studied her for a moment and then said, “Are you afraid of me, Faith?”

  “What?” She laughed at the absurdity of his query. “No, of course not! Why would you think such a thing?”

  “You seem rather skittish this evening.” He paused. “If you’re having second thoughts—”

  Mercy clenched her hands at her sides. “No.”

  He inclined his head. “Then tell me what you want from me.”

  She swallowed. “I want you to… make love to me.” Abruptly she frowned and shook her head. “No, that’s not right.” She untied her robe and let it fall to the floor, and then she moved forward to touch his chest, placing her hand directly over his heart. With her unwavering gaze on his luscious brown eyes, she whispered, “I want you to make me scream with pleasure.”

  ***

  Malcolm’s throat went dry. He wasn’t even sure he could form a coherent sentence at this point. Not many women had surprised him in his life, but Miss Albright had accomplished the impossible — and he was more than willing to give her what she wanted. He would take his time exploring every inch of her body later, but right now his cock was hard and demanding.

  He spun her around so that her back was braced against the wall and lifted her legs until they were wrapped around his waist, and then he took her lips in a kiss that devoured, that claimed. Teeth clashed and tongues mated with one another before he kissed a path down to her breast, where he nipped her taut nipple through her gown. She moaned and when he stroked his fingers along the seam of her sex, she was already wet for him.

  “Unbutton my trousers,” he growled in her ear. He released her long enough for her to set his pulsing cock free. But when she started to stroke him, he lifted her once more and poised himself at her entrance. He rubbed himself along her opening and asked, “Is this what you want?”
>
  “Yes…”

  Her eyes had slid closed, so he said, “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

  When her lids fluttered open, she reached forward and bit his bottom lip. “Stop teasing and fuck me.”

  Malcolm ceased breathing. He wouldn’t have imagined that a prim and proper ladies’ companion might use such language. And now he was wondering if he might be the one screaming when all of this was over. “As my lady commands.” He pushed into her in one firm thrust that had her crying out. He withdrew, and she sobbed incoherently.

  “That wasn’t a scream. I guess I’ll have to try harder.” Again and again he entered her and then slowly pulled away until she was panting and grasping his shoulders.

  “More. Please.”

  Malcolm found that her pleas were quickly shoving him over the edge, so he stopped the foreplay and began a sensual rhythm; his every advance making them both delirious and every retreat making them yearn for that sweet release.

  Malcolm could feel her core tighten around him and he knew she was close to her peak. “Come for me. Scream for me.”

  And she did, the sound of her rapture floating out the window and soaring toward the heavens while he followed her into the void.

  Chapter Eight

  As Mercy slowly slid down his body and touched solid ground once more, she wobbled on her feet, the wondrous pleasure she’d just experienced making her limbs weak. He caught her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed where he peeled off her nightdress. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.”

  When she was fully revealed to him, his nostrils flared with obvious hunger, and she would be lying if she said an answering swirl of heat didn’t start to simmer low in her belly. It appeared she was insatiable when it came to this man.

  She reached out to him, and he willingly came into her arms where they embarked on another round of lovemaking, but this time, it wasn’t rushed with passion, but slow and exploratory, and when she reached her peak, it was just as magnificent as before.

  Afterward, he drew her close to him, and wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders.

  Mercy must have dozed off at some point throughout the night, for when she moved to reach out for her new lover, the space next to her was warm, but empty. She opened her eyes to find that dawn was starting to break the horizon. She frowned. Surely Freddie hadn’t slipped out like a thief in the night. After all, Lady Franson’s servants were completely discreet.

  But when the door opened and he strode in carrying a wrapped parcel of something that smelled rather delicious, she sat up and held the covers over her breasts. No doubt she looked a mess with her dark hair in a bedraggled mess about her, but it wasn’t as if she’d had much of an opportunity to freshen up.

  When he glanced up and saw that she was awake, he stopped in his tracks. “My God. You’re beautiful at any time of the day.”

  Mercy couldn’t help but blush at the compliment, although since she was eager to find out what he held, her stomach already growling in anticipation, she asked, “What do you have there?”

  He grinned broadly. “I thought to surprise you with a special breakfast.” With that he revealed a delightful array of various mini pastries drizzled with honey.

  “I daresay I’ve never been very fond of sweets, but that looks delicious,” she murmured in fascination as he brought the gift over and sat it down beside her.

  He frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

  She stopped his apology with a hand on his. “Don’t concern yourself. I’m so famished I could honestly eat anything.”

  “Don’t tempt me with that remark,” he growled rather seductively. He pulled apart one of the sticky buns and held it before her with two fingers. “Open up.”

  Mercy had come to trust him, but she eyed the treat with some speculation. “What is it?”

  “You know I’m not exactly sure, other than it’s some sort of sweet bread. It’s just something I must have whenever I venture to Brighton. The bakery down the street makes the best sweets to tempt any palate.” His gaze fell to her lips. “Now, open.”

  She obeyed and he slipped the treat into her mouth. She moaned in approval at the instant, savory nectar that touched her tongue, and decided that she might have to rethink her aversion to sugary sweets. But the taste paled in comparison when he withdrew his fingers and sucked the residue off one finger and then the other, all while keeping his dark, heated gaze fixed on her.

  “You know,” he murmured. “I imagine there is something else that would taste just as sweet.”

  She swallowed the last bite of the bread while he set aside the offering and, with a wicked gleam in his gaze, traveled down the length of her body, taking the covers with him as he did. When he settled himself between her thighs, a hand clasping either side of her legs, her heart began to thud behind her ribcage. But it wasn’t until he bent his head and began to lick her as if she was his personal treat that she fell back against the mattress and clutched the sheet on either side of her. Within moments she was shuddering with ecstasy.

  As he crawled back up her body, he said huskily, “Delicious.”

  Mercy wrapped her arms around him and the treats were quickly forgotten in lieu of more tempting delights.

  ***

  When Malcolm left his sleeping goddess the next time, he made sure to give her a light kiss on the lips before he departed, promising that he would escort her to the fair that afternoon. It was either leave now or never leave her side.

  He went downstairs to see Lady Beth entering the house as he made it to the foyer. Her blond hair was hanging down her back and although she was haphazardly dressed, it was apparent by the smile on her face that she’d passed a most enjoyable evening.

  She glanced up and gave a smirk. “Hallo, Freddie. Fancy meeting you here at this hour.”

  He snorted. “As if you’ve been out for an early morning stroll.”

  “Well, I have had some most thorough exercise,” she said saucily.

  He chuckled and said, “I hope you haven’t ruined Devon and Crawford irrevocably.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to worry on that score,” she returned evenly. “I’m already spoken for, and they are quite content as bachelors, I’m sure. Although,” she added confidently. “I can promise they won’t forget me.” She punctuated her statement with a scandalous wink, and then said, “But enough about me. I trust you took care of my dear friend properly.”

  He bowed politely. “Indeed, my lady. She shouldn’t have any complaints regarding my performance, although she will require a hot bath to soothe some aching muscles.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes as he took his leave, while resisting the urge to whistle as he returned to his terrace house next door. As he passed under Miss Albright’s window, he couldn’t resist glancing up to see if she might be standing there, but the door was firmly closed.

  He was still wearing that same smile when he walked in the door to be greeted by Jacob and David, who were lounging about the parlor in similar banyans. However, it wasn’t as though he could claim to be any better considering where he’d just come from.

  “How was your night?” the earl called out to him when he would have strode on past to his chamber.

  He reluctantly paused and leaned against the doorframe. “You should know that a gentleman never tells.”

  The baron guffawed. “I suppose that means it was enjoyable.” He shook his head. “I daresay Lady Beth is like no other woman I’ve met. For a woman who is so young she has the experience of the most seasoned courtesan.”

  “Indeed,” Lord Devon said with a sigh. “She has no problem taking either of us to task at any given time.”

  Malcolm winced slightly. While they had generally swapped stories of their past exploits amongst themselves, he found that when he thought of his time with Miss Albright it seemed too sordid to share. “I’m pleased that you are
both so… pleased, as it were, but a bath and my bed beckons.”

  “Come now, Westbrook!” Lord Crawford almost whined. “You would leave us to imagine your time with Miss Albright? That’s hardly sporting of you when we are more than willing to share all of Lady Beth’s delights.”

  Malcolm frowned. “Just ensure that it doesn’t leave this room,” he warned.

  Devon sat up straighter. “We may enjoy our sexual leisure, but we have never impugned a lady’s honor, as you well know.” He shook his head. “I daresay I don’t know what’s gotten into you of late.”

  “I believe he’s rather besotted,” Crawford interjected. “If that’s the case I have no idea what shall become of our shared endeavors.”

  Malcolm admitted that he’d never given their future association much thought. When they’d embarked on this partnership at university, with the vow to live life to the fullest and enjoy the most debauched lifestyle as long as possible, he had imagined that nothing would change. He’d always taken for granted that even when he was wed to Lady Mercy his pursuits would go on as before. No doubt she would prefer to go her own way as well once the requisite heir had arrived.

  But in just a few short days his entire world had flipped upside down. Nothing was the same.

  He wasn’t the same. When he was with Miss Albright, he thought of her luscious body, of course. He wouldn’t be a virile male if he didn’t. But it went further than that.

  He turned on his heel and went upstairs, realizing that what Crawford said about him being besotted wasn’t just an accusation.

  It was the truth.

  ***

  Mercy twirled her parasol as she strolled beside Freddie, her arm tucked securely in his. She smiled at the crowds eager to absorb all the entertainment that had been provided along the shore and since the day had dawned nearly cloudless and brilliantly blue; the excitement was infectious. But then, she might just be feeling that way because of the handsome man at her side.