Desire Me Now

by Tiffany Clare

  While the dress had seen better days, it was well-made and only tattered and stained around the edges. He wanted to see her in silk and taffeta, not the stormy gray material that draped her unbecomingly.

  “We never agreed to terms,” she said.

  “If you think I offer this generosity to every woman who falls in my path, you are mistaken. The offer was not for your sole benefit; I am in need of a secretary. My paperwork has been in shambles for months, and the applicants who have come to me were nothing but buffoons. I see you, Miss Grant, and I see an honest woman.”

  She blushed, the red a becoming color on her cheeks. “I have no experience in being a secretary.”

  Perhaps not, but she was in need of a protector. Needing to see if there was any other damage to her, he freed the pin that held her hat in place. She tucked loose bits of her hair back into the chignon. The bruise darkening her cheek and the cut under her lip were the only visible signs of a recent struggle. He silently vowed to find the man responsible.

  “Can you write correspondences and organize invitations and responses?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Huxley, the man we passed in the hallway, will settle you in and explain anything you need to know about my affairs.”

  “Is he leaving the position?” she asked.

  “Huxley’s time is better used elsewhere.”

  “Why would you want to hire me without references?”

  A valid question. He couldn’t tell her that from the moment he saw her, he knew that he had to have her. There was that and the fact that he had a penchant for bringing in strays. Though he didn’t think she’d appreciate either answer. “I will obtain the references you submitted for your last job. I assume you were placed through Everett’s agency for young women.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “That is the closest agency in the area where we came upon each other.” It had also once been his agency, before he’d handed the reins over to one of his mother’s friends.

  She lowered her gaze and stared at her lap with a defeated slouch curving her shoulders. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her that the bruise on her cheek was a thing of the past, and that he would never harm her. If there was one thing he could promise her, it was that she would be safe in his household.

  But would she be safe from him?

  He wanted her with a fierceness that crossed the line of decency.

  He would scrutinize both those thoughts later.

  Amelia hated to admit anything to her perfect stranger, but he’d find out sooner or later. And if he was willing to give her a chance at a job, how could she not be honest? “The agency may not provide references, as I left my last job without notice.”

  “Leave it to me to sort out the finer details, Miss Grant.”

  Before she could refuse him again, Huxley entered the room, announcing, “The doctor will arrive within the half hour.”

  Mr. Riley nodded his thanks and retrieved a tasseled velvet stool from under the window. “Once we’re finished with the doctor, Huxley, I should like you to show Miss Grant where she’ll be working—a tour of the house will have to wait until she is steady on her feet. She also will require a key to my study.”

  If Huxley thought his employer insane for allowing a woman they knew nothing about to handle Mr. Riley’s day-to-day affairs, he said nothing. She wondered if they would discuss the matter when she wasn’t privy to the conversation.

  “Miss”—Huxley addressed her with a curt tip of his head—“You’ll want refreshments, so I’ll locate Joshua.” Without further ado, Huxley left the room. Focusing on Mr. Riley’s intent stare, Amelia wasn’t sure how she felt about being alone with him.

  Mr. Riley placed the stool in front of her. Before he could assist, she lifted her leg and settled her skirts around her so she wasn’t revealing anything but the edge of her short leather boot. He took a seat across from her and slung his arm over the back of the ivory-colored Louis chair. She flitted her gaze away from his, unable to stand up to the scrutiny behind those assessing grays.

  “Aside from teaching children, what other skills do you possess?” he asked.

  She studied him for a few moments before answering. “How can you even consider taking on someone who, up until now, has been more or less an encumbrance?”

  “It is possible we view a burden as two separate things.”

  “I doubt my skills would be useful to you. While I know how to run a household, put menus together for dinner parties, and teach children a number of topics that include the rudiments of mathematics, biology, geography, Latin, dance, and piano, I haven’t the slightest idea what would be required of a secretary.”

  “Women often downplay the true extent of their abilities. Running a household is not as easy a task as you would have me believe. I know this for fact, as I struggled through it with Huxley for a number of years until we hired Marney, the housekeeper.”

  Her mouth opened to argue her point, but a man carrying a large brown leather bag rushed into the room.

  “Mr. Riley,” the newcomer said, slightly out of breath. “Huxley sent for me. He said it was urgent.”

  Mr. Riley stood, motioning toward Amelia. “Miss Grant has taken a fall and twisted her ankle.”

  The doctor knelt next to the stool her foot was perched upon. “May I?” he asked, motioning toward her booted foot.

  She nodded and curled her fingers around the piped edge of the sofa. The doctor hesitated as he searched through his accouterments, pulling out scissors and then deciding against them. Instead, he unlaced her boot, careful not to move her foot in the process.

  Sucking in a pained breath, Amelia couldn’t help but wince as her boot was tugged off. The pinch of pain lasted only a moment.

  Mr. Riley took a step toward her, as if he would stop the doctor. She watched Mr. Riley cautiously. What was he about? This time, she intentionally tried to catch his gaze, but before she could garner his attention, he turned and strode out of the room.

  Amelia breathed easier the moment Mr. Riley left her in the care of the doctor. Something about Mr. Riley’s presence made her feel things she’d never felt before—foreign things that had her blushing as images of him holding her close in his arms flashed across her mind. She’d been raised a lady and had respected that upbringing. What she felt for this man crossed every boundary of propriety that her father had instilled in her.

  With a shaky breath that had nothing to do with the swelling pain in her ankle and everything to do with Mr. Riley, she looked at the doctor, needing to focus on something else.

  Anything else.

  She guessed the doctor’s age was around forty. His face was clean shaven and his black suit decently pressed. There were crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, as though he often found reason for laughter. The kindness she saw there put her at ease in her strange new surroundings.

  The room was grander than any in her childhood home—the ceilings had to be twenty feet high, making the room bright and airy. Above each of the lead-paned windows, decorative stained glass was fashioned into the shape of a fan. The walls were papered with a deep burgundy damask, and the furniture—two sofas and a chair in her seating section—were a mix of ivory chintz and floral patterns to balance the dark walls and wood trim. It was a richly appointed room. Every detail looked carefully selected, and nothing looked neglected, not even the curtains. In the house where she’d grown up, the curtains had been filled with holes from moths over the years.

  “It does not appear as though anything is broken,” the doctor said, drawing her attention away from her surroundings and back to his kind brown eyes. “May I ask how you hurt it?”

  She bit her lip. It was embarrassing to admit what happened, so she opted for a much shorter version of the truth. “In my haste to cross a busy street this morning, I managed to trip over the curb separating the lane and the park. My ankle twisted when I fell.”


  He looked at her silently, assessing her injuries. She knew her lip had a split at one corner; she felt the constant sting, especially when she talked. Mr. Riley had confirmed that Sir Ian was successful in bruising her where he had struck her.

  “You will need to stay off your foot for a few days, preferably a week if you can spare the time.”

  She needed to work, not laze about like an indulgent cat. “Is there not a salve I can use to heal it quicker? What if I wrap it so I can better support my weight?”

  “I’m afraid neither will be sufficient. You need rest to bring down the swelling, and time will heal the rest.”

  She looked away from the doctor, her vision blurring. She hated the tears that filled her eyes at her predicament. She was stronger than this. “I’m not in a position to do any such thing,” she said, hearing the break in her voice.

  “You most certainly are.” Mr. Riley spoke from the door, startling her. The tone of his voice was commanding and brooked no argument. “You will sit at a desk to deal with my correspondence over the next week, if that’s how long it takes to heal.”

  “I could . . . ” She wasn’t sure what she could do. And this was not a conversation or argument for the kind doctor to hear. She would deal with Mr. Riley in due time. She ducked her head. “Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice, Doctor. I am grateful for your services.”

  “I am always available when Mr. Riley calls.” He packed up his bag, stood, and bowed to Amelia. His smile was warm as he placed his hat on his head. “Call for me again if it worsens, though I think you’re in good hands now.”

  She nodded, not sure how to respond to the doctor’s assurance of Mr. Riley’s character.

  Mr. Riley spoke with the doctor before he left. They were too quiet for Amelia to overhear what they discussed before the doctor shook Mr. Riley’s hand and left.

  Silence descended upon the room when she was left alone with her rescuer. She understood cruelty, unkindness. She understood the demands of men bent on humiliating her. Any of those things she could easily skirt around and make an escape for the nearest exit. But Mr. Riley bewildered her on so many levels that she was at a loss in determining her next step. He was kind, and he seemed genuinely interested in helping her.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder: Why me?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There was an awkward moment of silence as Amelia stared at Mr. Riley. She wished she knew what he was about. Wished she could grasp the fundamental nuances of his character so she could understand his determination to hire her as his secretary. What could she possibly offer him that an experienced secretary could not? Right now, she had no references for her character or ability. Touching her tongue to the tender part of her split lip, she assumed her appearance suggested that her background was dubious at best. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t learn exactly what the role entailed, but she had not escaped the clasp of one devil to find herself in another kind of hell.

  Mr. Riley revealed something in his hand as he walked toward her. She eyed him suspiciously. He handed her a small glass pot with an amber-colored salve inside. Kneeling in front of her, he scooped some of the salve onto his fingers and reached for her face. When she flinched from his outstretched hand, he said, “It will help lighten the bruise that’s setting in on your cheek.”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied and held still for his ministrations. She felt suddenly shy and vulnerable. Those were weaknesses she needed to guard against. She must remain strong.

  Mr. Riley’s fingers were warm and callused, and he was methodical but gentle in applying the strong-smelling concoction.

  “You said you were released from your duties,” he said offhandedly. “Might I ask whom you worked for?” There was a hint of danger to his question.

  “It does not matter.” She never wanted to think of Sir Ian again, or what he’d almost done.

  The look in Mr. Riley’s eyes said he definitely thought it mattered, but he didn’t ask again.

  Amelia leaned over to put her boot back on. Embarrassment had her ducking her face in a poor attempt to hide the bruise. She couldn’t stay in this house, and she had to find a way to pay Mr. Riley for the doctor’s visit.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” His question was sharp, almost angry.

  “I am beyond grateful for your kindness, but I cannot be an imposition to you further. I have to go back to the employment agency before they close at the lunch hour.”

  “There is no need. I have sent them a note to advise them of your new situation.”

  Her fingers frozen midtie on her laces, Amelia opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again. What could she say? He was domineering and had no right to make any such decision for her. Yet . . . yet he’d been there for her when she needed help most. And she hated to admit it, but she was indebted to him, as she had no means to pay him back for his assistance or for the doctor’s services.

  Amelia blinked against the tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t like this feeling of helplessness. She hated that she had no control over her situation. “Why are you being so kind when you don’t know if I am even capable of the task?”

  “It is interesting that we met, when we both require something of the other.”

  “That is not explanation enough. I have already told you that I do not know the first thing about being a secretary.”

  She saw nothing but kindness radiating from his eyes. And she wanted to trust him on this, because he seemed concerned about her welfare, if his insistence that she stay was proof of that. But she wasn’t sure she could trust him.

  “We will have to educate each other along the way,” he said, “as I haven’t any idea what I require yet from someone whose sole purpose is served as a secretary. Huxley is my man of all affairs, but some of his tasks need to be alleviated. I have entertained the idea of a secretary for some months and I believe you’ll be perfect for the job. You can start with my neglected correspondence and learn how to keep my schedule.”

  “I—”

  He shook his head. “No more objections. I will have a warm lunch brought up to chase away the morning chill and then turn you over to Huxley to review some of your duties.”

  Amelia pinched her lips tightly together and stared at Mr. Riley. He was so sure of himself, so sure she’d do exactly as he bid. But what right did she have to refuse the very thing that would save her from a far worse fate than working for this man? And she hated to admit that his concern for her being warm and well fed broke through the careful guard she had erected when around men.

  Then something occurred to her. Something she should have thought of sooner. What if he wanted the same thing that Sir Ian had wanted? Her heart lurched painfully in her chest with that realization. Something in her expression must have given away her thoughts, because Mr. Riley’s focus on her was as sharp and intense as ever. He reached for the bruise on her cheek, where he’d rubbed in the salve moments go. His touch was light, and she wanted to turn her cheek into his palm.

  That wasn’t right. She shook off the thought.

  “You have no reason to fear me, Amelia.” The use of her Christian name caused a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She took a shaky breath and pulled away from the comfort of his touch.

  “I believe you,” she admitted, meeting his penetrating gaze, knowing that none of this felt right. Why did she believe him? Was it because she was at the end of her tolerance for bad luck today?

  “Lunch will be served in here,” he announced before standing and leaving her abruptly. Had he left so quickly so she couldn’t refuse his offer again?

  Taking a steadying breath, Amelia pushed to her feet and made a tentative step with her injured foot. The pain that shot up her calf was nearly debilitating, but she soldiered on, refusing to give in. And it was the pain in her ankle that decided her course. She had no money; her face was bruised, making her unfit to be under public scrutiny; and she hated to admit, but until she could walk without feel
ing like she’d throw up, she was stuck in the care of Mr. Riley.

  If there was one thing to come of the day thus far, it was that Miss Grant would be more trouble than he might be willing to handle at present. Well, not precisely. It was more a matter that she caused him a great deal of moral grief.

  He wanted her. But part of that wanting was to protect her from the look of weariness that clouded her eyes. He knew that look, had seen it in his own mother’s eyes. Not willing to delve too far into his past, Nick busied himself with reviewing the ledgers of his shipping company.

  Someone, somewhere, was dipping his fingers where he had no right. And while Nick might consider himself a fair employer, he supposed there were always those who wanted more than their entitled share. Studying the ledger Huxley had prepared over the last six months, the wool weights from origin to final docking in London were anywhere from 10 to 20 percent off. So where in hell were the items being fenced?

  He leaned back in his chair, no longer needing the evidence in front of him. He’d been right all along. His business partner and friend, Landon, had been the one to notice, since the wool was coming from his farm in northern Scotland.

  Huxley joined him in his study, perching himself on the arm of the leather chair facing Nick’s desk. “We going to weed out the accomplices?” he asked.

  “Yes but carefully. This affects our partners too, not just my shares in the sales.”

  “I have my eyes on the wharfinger. The man always had an untrustworthy face.”

  “Even if it is him, we need to know where he’s selling the goods before we have him charged with theft.”

  Huxley crossed his arms over his chest and gave Nick a level stare. “On to other topics, then. Miss Grant’s a scrap of a woman. Could use a few good meals to fill her out some.”

  Huxley was fishing for information. And damned if Nick had answers. He couldn’t explain why he’d offered her a job; he’d just known he didn’t want to let her go.

  “That should not be a problem once Joshua sets eyes on her.” Nick flipped through his appointment calendar, not wanting to discuss Miss Grant with anyone. It was bad enough he couldn’t stop thinking about her.