The Viscount's Bawdy Bargain

by Connie Lane

  “I suppose it might.”

  At the hint of the suggestion that shimmered in his voice, Willie raised her eyes again to Somerton’s. She found him looking amused. And attentive. She also saw some other emotion there, one she could not name even though she could feel it to her very core.

  Not for the first time since he’d come into the room, she wished she was not dressed in her nightgown. But this time, she realized it was not because she was embarrassed. If she were wearing one of her everyday gowns, she decided, she might lean closer still just as Madame had shown her. That way, she could give Somerton a glimpse of her breasts.

  The very thought sent heat shooting through Willie’s cheeks but rather than be dismayed by it—as she knew she surely should be—she found a certain pleasure in the sensation. Emboldened, she leaned forward until her breasts were only a hair’s breadth from brushing his chest. “We are supposed to be dancing, m’lord,” she told him, her voice as muted as the light of the single candle that flickered beside them. “And we are not.”

  “No. We are not.”

  The words stuck in Nick’s throat and the breath in his lungs could not make its way past them. He stood like a man struck by lightning, every inch of his flesh tingling even as he was pierced to the heart.

  He looked down into the face that was Willie’s.

  But it was more coolly self-possessed than any he had ever seen.

  And into the eyes that were Willie’s.

  And belonged to a woman who was confident in her ability to entice a man.

  The smile was Willie’s, right enough. He remembered it from the night of the dinner party. It was the smile that sometimes crept over her expression unawares, the one that could light a room and haunt a man’s dreams at the same time it tickled his imagination. It was poised. Self-assured. Amorous.

  Amorous?

  The word burned through Nick’s brain and started an even hotter fire in his blood. In spite of the fact that he told himself it was not wise, he glanced down to the small space that separated their bodies and when he glanced again at the face and the eyes and the smile that were all Willie’s—and weren’t—he wondered what she’d think if she knew how eager he was to close the gap that separated them so that nothing kept them apart. Not their inhibitions. Or their pride. Not even their clothing.

  “What of the music?”

  Willie’s question startled Nick out of thoughts that held him spellbound. It was just as well. His imagination was treading dangerously close to places he had warned it against venturing. There was no doubt that his body was tempted to follow. And less doubt still that it wasn’t wise.

  “The music!” He let go the words on the end of a long breath and looked around as if that might somehow conjure the orchestra they needed. The momentary reprieve from Willie’s smile did nothing to provide an orchestra. Nor did it ease his conscience or calm his fantasies, and eager to do something before he could convince himself that he’d much rather take hold of Willie and kiss her until her head spun, Nick hummed a few bars of a tune he’d heard at Almack’s.

  “We shall have to make our own music,” he told her. “And now that the music is playing…” He hummed the tune again. “We must begin to dance.”

  He didn’t wait a second longer. One more second of standing there close to Willie—but not nearly close enough—and he knew he would not be accountable for what might happen. He swung into the dance.

  Caught up in the crook of Somerton’s arm and the shimmer of sapphire magic that sparkled in his eyes, Willie felt a bit as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Afraid she would make a misstep, afraid she wouldn’t care if she did, she listened to him count the easy rhythm of the dance.

  “One, two, three. One, two, three.”

  She looked down at his feet and tried to mirror his moves. It would have been difficult enough to follow had she been fully in control of her body or her thoughts. It was nearly impossible with her head whirling and her fantasies soaring out of control. Before they had gone three steps, she stomped on his foot.

  “I’m so sorry!” Horrified, Willie pulled to a stop. “You’ll think me as ungraceful as Miss Greenlaw and—”

  “No matter!” Somerton laughed and buoyed by the sound, she tried again.

  “One, two, three. One, two, three.” She found herself reciting the chant with him until their voices blended into a chorus that marked the rhythm of their movements.

  “That’s it. There. Better.” He called his encouragement, as pleased as Willie was that she soon got the simple movements straight and that there were no more injuries to his feet. “Now…” Carefully, he turned around the corner where the desk met the bookshelves, showing her as he did how such a seemingly difficult movement could be as simple as breathing and as smooth as a whisper with the right partner.

  “Look at me, Willie.”

  “What?” She had been busy watching her feet and automatically, her head came up and she lost count. She tripped and would have tumbled to the floor if not for the steady pressure of his arm around her.

  “You need to keep your eyes on me as we dance,” he told her, unfazed by the slip up. “We are going to need to chat.”

  “Surely not…one, two, three…Not while we’re dancing…one, two, three…I don’t know if I can…one, two, three…talk at all, m’lord…one, two, three…I’ll lose my place in the dance and—”

  “Do you trust me?” The question was as serious as the expression that clouded Somerton’s face. Or perhaps it was simply a trick of the light and the fact that they were far from the candle now and his face was thrown into shadow.

  “I do trust you,” she told him. “One, two, three. It is myself I cannot…one, two, three…trust.”

  “Stop counting!” There was a ring of command in Somerton’s voice that did not quite match the muted light or the graceful movements. But it did get Willie’s attention. She swallowed her words.

  “Forget that we’re dancing,” he told her. “Forget about the room and the feel of the carpet beneath your feet and the music and—”

  “But, m’lord, there is no music!”

  “See?” Even in the dim light, she saw the smile that gleamed in his eyes. “You’ve forgotten already. Now listen to me, Willie. Close your eyes and forget about it all.”

  “Close my—” It wasn’t the sensible thing to do and Willie feared it did not bode well for Somerton’s feet. Or for her heart. Still, his voice was as impossible to resist as taking her next breath might be. Because she had no choice, Willie allowed her eyes to drift shut.

  “Now don’t think about the dancing. Don’t think about anything. Just feel. The rhythm. And the way the air flutters around you. Feel my skin against yours. And the place where my hand…” He adjusted his hold a bit, the touch as soft as a whisper, and though it was so light and her nightdress was so voluminous that Willie could not be sure, she could have sworn his thumb skipped up her ribs before it glided back down again.

  Somerton’s voice was rough and breathless, no doubt from the exertion of spinning around the room. “Do you feel it?”

  Willie was tempted to tell him he could not possibly be speaking about what she was feeling. It was just as well the words wouldn’t come. She nodded instead and gave herself over to the magic of the dance and when he tightened his hold ever so slightly and spun her around the next corner, she swore her feet did not touch the ground.

  Caught up in rhythm and the enchantment, Willie threw back her head and laughed.

  He spun her faster then, and she moved through the steps of the dance as if she had known them all her life, graceful yet wild, somehow, as if they were falling through a pitch-black void, with only each other to hold.

  Another corner and Somerton held on even tighter. It did not take her long to realize that even after they were out of the turn, he did not loosen his hold.

  Willie’s heart, already pounding at breakneck speed, skipped a beat. She opened her eyes to find him looking down at h
er, half his face illuminated by the light of the candle, the other half lost in shadow. Still, there was no mistaking the longing in his eyes. After all, it would have been impossible not to recognize the same emotion that racketed through her.

  Willie did not even realize she’d stopped dancing until the scene settled and Somerton was standing in front of her, breathing just as hard as she was.

  “Thank you, m’lord.” She tried for a tone of voice that was relaxed and casual. Just as any proper young lady at Almack’s might have done at the end of a dance. It actually might have worked if Somerton let go of her. He did not, and at the same time Willie realized it and realized she did not care, he tugged her closer.

  “I have never danced, m’lord. But I think this is not usual,” she said, glancing down to the place where his hand caressed her hip.

  “No,” he said. “It is not usual.”

  “And it is not wise.”

  “No.” They both knew it and still, a smile as hot as a winter’s fire lit Somerton’s face. “It is not wise at all.”

  “And we’ll regret it, I think.”

  “Not until the heat of it cools and we come to our senses. I suspect that may be a long while from now.”

  “A very long while.”

  “Which means—”

  “It means you really should kiss me, m’lord.” The words were out of Willie’s mouth before she could stop them and before she could convince herself that she was far too bold and far too wanton, Somerton was already laughing.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, m’lord.” It was the truth and there was no use denying it. Not to Somerton. Not to herself. Not any longer. “More than anything.”

  “You’d best be careful, Willie.” He was still smiling but now there was something other than amusement that sparked in his eyes. It was a look that caused a slow crawl of heat to inch through her insides. “A man doesn’t take well to such teasing.”

  “Nor does a woman. And if that’s all it was…” As if the shadow of the dancers and the imaginary orchestra still lurked where the light of the candle melted into the darkness, she looked over her shoulder.

  Almost afraid to ask and find out she’d been wrong about him and about everything she was feeling, she swallowed a breath for courage. “What did you mean it to be?” she asked. “Was it dancing and nothing more?”

  “Did it seem to be more?”

  “Did you want it to be?”

  Somerton shifted from foot to foot. He puffed out a breath of annoyance but whether it was at her brazenness or because she had caught him with his guard down and his own emotions as clear as the newly washed window at her right shoulder, she didn’t know.

  And she would have sorely liked to.

  “You are the one who said you’d never danced, Willie,” he told her. “And I—”

  “Took full advantage of the fact that I am far too honest for my own good.” Sometime while they danced, her shawl had slipped around her shoulders and as if she could as easily restore the tatters of her pride, Willie tugged the shawl back into place. “I hope you realize, m’lord, that I was not serious.”

  “You mean you don’t really want me to kiss you?”

  “Exactly.” No one could have been more surprised than Willie that the lie escaped her lips so easily. “You were, after all, recounting your evening at Almack’s. You were explaining what it is like when a man and a woman are out on the dance floor together. I do hope you understand—”

  “That you were simply pretending to be one of the mindless misses who inhabits such a place. Yes.” Though he did not look convinced, he nodded. “And you expect me to believe it. Just as you expect me to believe that the night of the dinner party—”

  “Nothing happened on the night of the dinner party.” It was the truth and if Somerton chose not to see it, there was little Willie could do. “We talked. Nothing more. And may I remind you that I was pretending to be Devonna Markham at the time. Anything you said to me—”

  “I would most definitely not have said to her.”

  “After you met her, perhaps. But before—”

  “Before you got me into this ridiculous predicament I find myself in—”

  “Oh, no! You are the one who did that. All by yourself. If you were not so free with your money—”

  “As free as you are with your tongue?”

  “You asked my opinion, m’lord.” The words barely made it through her clenched teeth. “I am but offering it. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for the fact that you are sorely in need of money. You would not have gone to Almack’s—”

  “And you would not have been here waiting for me.”

  “Which I was certainly not.” Just to prove the point, Willie reached for the book she’d been reading. She held it in front of herself like a shield. “If you’d prefer me to stay out of your library—”

  “I’d prefer the truth.”

  “As would I.”

  “The truth?” Somerton pulled himself up to his full height which, Willie realized now that he was this close, was quite tall, indeed. His eyes narrowed, he stared down his nose at her. “The truth is that I am out searching for a wife I do not want among women I have no wish to meet. On the one hand, I have a host of creditors who as you so ably pointed out to me, are eager to be paid and less than patient. On the other, I have Ravensfield, who is even more eager to make a fortune off my misfortune and show me to the ton for the fool that I am. It is a damned muddle, Willie, and correct me if I am wrong, but none of it happened until you happened into my life.”

  “Which I would not have done at all if you had been half the gentleman you pretend to be. You are the one who snatched me from the very steps of the church—”

  “Which you couldn’t wait to be away from!” He had her there and Somerton knew it. He raised his chin, daring her to dispute the claim and when she could not, he growled with triumph. “It’s your fault, Willie. All of it. The wife hunt and the wager and the—”

  “The dancing? Was that my fault as well?” It was her turn to gloat and with a small, satisfied smile, Willie made sure he realized it. “I was quite content until you happened into the room. You are the one who started talking about falling off logs and dancing and—”

  “Kissing?”

  “I may have mentioned it.” Willie did her best to hold her head high and her chin steady. He didn’t need to remind her that she’d been foolish. More than foolish. She’d been reckless enough to confess a secret that should have been held in her heart.

  And there was no excuse for that.

  Which didn’t mean she couldn’t try to invent one.

  “Surely you could see that my head was spinning from the dance. It is the only reason I spoke so imprudently.”

  “I thought it was because you were pretending to be a young lady at Almack’s.”

  She hated to be shown for a liar.

  Willie gave him a wooden smile. She went on as if he had never spoken. “I was light-headed. Which means I cannot possibly be responsible—”

  “For what you really want?”

  “For what I might have said.”

  “Then it’s not really what you want.”

  It wasn’t a question and it did not warrant an answer.

  Which is just as well since Willie did not know the answer.

  Her mind made up, even if her body was still not sure what she did and didn’t want, she turned to leave the room. The feel of Somerton’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  “Be careful what you wish for, Willie,” he told her, and before she could think what he meant or what he meant to do, he spun her around and brought his mouth down on hers.

  There was nothing tentative about Somerton’s kiss. There was nothing gentle about it, either.

  His mouth was hot and it fit over Willie’s as if it had been made for the task. His lips were hard, demanding. When she did not relax, he deepened the kiss and when she gave herself to the glory
of it and tipped her head back, he touched his tongue to hers. She heard the moan from deep in her throat, felt herself falling, and when he snaked an arm around her waist and crushed her to his chest, she could no more resist than she could stop the sudden surge of heat that flooded her body.

  As quickly as he took hold of her, Somerton let her go and feeling just as light-headed as she did when she spun around the room cradled in his arms, Willie struggled to catch her breath and keep her feet.

  It helped—but only a little—to realize that he looked as stunned as she felt.

  They stared at each other for the space of a dozen frantic heartbeats, too astounded to move, too staggered to speak.

  And the only thing Willie could think to possibly do was give in to the temptation of another kiss.

  As if it were second nature—a nature she would have never have guessed she had—Willie linked her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Somerton responded instantly and fiercely and when he coaxed her mouth open, she welcomed the feel of his tongue against hers, luxuriating in the moment and in the sensations that coursed through her body like liquid fire.

  12

  She luxuriated in the sensations still.

  Catching herself in the thought, Willie popped open her eyes and glanced around the breakfast room, hoping that Mr. Finch, who was serving, had not noticed that she was sitting at the table with a cockled-brained look on her face and a want-witted smile on her lips.

  Fortunately for her and the fantasies that clattered through her brain as they had all night and all that morning—that is, with all the subtlety of a Waterloo cannonball—Mr. Finch’s back was turned. It was just as well. He didn’t need to see that her cheeks flamed with heat and just to remind herself that no one else must see it, either, and that she must act as if her whole world had not flipped arse over turkey the night before, Willie grabbed her spoon and stirred the cup of tea that was set on the table in front of her.

  It would not be so easy, she realized, to keep what was left of her composure when she was obliged to face Somerton again.