Ah, she’d suppressed that little lilt in her voice he loved so much and that betrayed her origins. Not that it would fool anyone, but any edge she could get would make her feel better. He wanted her confident, but not too confident.
He could not help but note that she was drawing attention from males and females alike—being sized up by her competition and being measured for pleasure by the buyers. He’d best make it clear immediately that she was spoken for, at least for this evening.
He lifted her chin with his forefinger and bent close, making his intent obvious. “Make this look good, Gina, or you will be fending off eager supplicants the rest of the evening.”
She raised on her tiptoes and fit her mouth to his. Not a tender offering but a deep and passionate kiss. No man would ever mistake her intentions, and no woman, either. In fact he, who knew it to be false, was having a difficult time reminding himself that the kiss was for the benefit of the salon, and not for him.
When she slowly withdrew, he whispered, “Well done, poppet.”
She chuckled at his jest and straightened his cravat just as an attentive mistress would have done. Lord! How could he leave her side long enough to ask his questions?
“Well met, Hunter. Why don’t you introduce me to your new lady love?”
He turned to find Henry Lector grinning ear to ear. “I am not ready to share, Henry.”
“Now, is that fair? Have you signed contracts? Is she a one-man woman?”
Gina blinked and he was afraid she’d give herself away, but when she merely tilted her head to one side and said, “One at a time, anyway,” he nearly guffawed.
Lector nodded and moved away, not entirely discouraged but willing to wait his turn. But there’d never be a turn. Jamie would see to that.
One thing was clear, Gina was a distraction to his purpose. Any conversation he would have with her by his side was bound to disintegrate to a flirtation if not an outright proposition. With reluctance, he released her hand.
“Will you be all right if I talk to some of these men alone, Gina? It should only take a few minutes.”
“I will sit quietly in that corner.” She nodded to a far corner where a bench sat in an alcove devised for tête-à-têtes.
“I shan’t be long.”
He watched Gina until she had taken a seat and began studying the murals with obvious interest. With a niggling feeling that he would regret leaving her alone, he joined a group of Thackery’s regulars, positioning himself so that he could keep an eye on her.
Edward Tully was the first to greet him. “Well met, Hunter. We were just talking about Charlie. Is it true?”
He nodded. “Just a scratch. He should be up and around by tomorrow.”
“Catch the bloke?” Albert Howland asked.
“One of them.”
“How many were there?”
“Two, we suspect. But I did not come to Thackery’s to discuss my brother. I’ve been looking for an old friend.”
Tully regarded him with a jaundiced eye. “Who would that be?”
“Cyril Henley.”
Eyebrows went up at that. “Friends, eh? I’d never have figured you two would have much in common,” Howland said.
“We have some friends in common. People I’d like to locate, if possible.”
Tully drank from his glass before he spoke. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of months.”
“I did. Now, let me see. Where was that?” Howland frowned and stared at the ceiling as if he expected the answer to appear there. “Was it here, or at the Morris masquerade? Yes, the night Stan Metcalfe was killed. He did not stay long, though. Said he had some place to be.”
“Busy man,” Tully said noncommittally.
Jamie was reasonably certain Tully knew more than he was saying. “Quite. Has he not been around here with his mistress?”
“Ah, yes! That’s it. He was here a few nights ago. After the Morris masquerade. He and Misty. That’s what he calls her. Play on words, what?”
“How so?”
“Mystery. Misty. She always wears a domino, don’t y’know. We’ve speculated endlessly about her true identity. We gather she’s from the ton, or why the domino?”
“But you haven’t recognized her?”
Howland laughed. “We scarcely look above her neck since she wears her gowns so low. But I’d recognize those breasts anywhere.”
Tully chortled. “Sweetest little mole just at the top of her left nipple. We’ve taken bets, but no one has proven yet whether that mole is the result of nature or artifice. My money is on nature.”
“And mine is on artifice. There is not much natural about that saucy wench. All I can say for certain is that she is by nature a blonde.” Howland drank deeply and winked.
Blonde? Hell, he knew half a dozen blondes who’d known Henley. That was not much help. But Misty? Damn! There was something pricking the back of his mind. The description, vague though it was, sounded familiar.
Subtle questioning of a few more men confirmed Tully and Howland’s information. Misty, whoever she was, was a favorite of the men. She asked nothing of them but their attention and was generous with the views she provided to one and all, and generous in more ways to a few; she had been known to go to a room with other men if Henley was not available.
He could not imagine Gina behaving in such a manner. He turned to check on her and groaned. He’d almost rather have found her talking to a man than his former mistress.
“So you are our Jamie’s newest obsession, eh?”
Gina turned from her study of the mural and smiled at the beautiful Frenchwoman. She wasn’t certain what to say. Our Jamie’s newest obsession? Did he patronize all the women of Thackery’s?
“We could ’ardly miss that kiss, mademoiselle. That is unlike ’im—to show public affection. ’E must think you are very special, eh?”
The thought warmed her. She shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Your name, mademoiselle?”
“Mary. And yours?”
“Suzette. Ah, do not worry over me. I am Charlie’s now.”
Good heavens! Did the Hunter brothers share their…cyprians? “I am not certain if I am Jamie’s or not.”
“’E ’as not made up ’is mind? Well, do not fret, little Mary. Even if it is only for tonight, ’e is most generous.” Her delicate hand went to her throat and she flicked a diamond and sapphire necklace there. “’E gave me this at our parting.”
Uncertain what to say, she ventured, “I am sorry.”
Suzette laughed, a musical trilling sound. “No need, Mary. It is the nature of our profession, yes? A man grows bored, a man moves on. I would ’ave missed ’im more if ’is brother was not as good.”
“Charlie gives you good gifts, too?”
The girl laughed again. “La! You are most amusing, Mary. But I ’ave come to ask if Jamie ’as mentioned Charlie. I wish to go see ’im, but I think Lockwood would not admit me to ’is ’ouse.”
“Oh, of course. Charlie is quite well, I believe. I recall that Jamie mentioned he would be up and around tomorrow. He is weak, but otherwise well.”
“So well informed? Well, I am glad to ’ear it. If Charlie is weak, I shall be ’appy to do all the work.” She laughed again. “Quite ’appy, n’est-ce pas? Though ’is skill is greater than my own. A skill as great as our Jamie, eh?”
Gina was certain she had missed something. She was about to ask for an explanation when Jamie arrived before them.
“Suzette,” he greeted her. “I see you have met Mary.”
“She is so precious, Jamie. I am impressed. I would not ’ave thought you would be amused by such…innocence.”
Ah, it was an insult! She eyed Suzette and stood, taking Jamie’s offered hand. “Oh, but I was not worried over you at all, Suzette. In fact, Jamie has never even mentioned you.”
Suzette’s eyes narrowed.
Jamie gave just the slightest bow as he turned her away.
“Really,” she said under her breath. “You might have war
ned me I’d be running into your cyprians.”
He laughed. “Suzette is my former mistress. I do not frequent cyprians.”
“And you’ve passed her on to your brother. Is it a family thing?”
This time he guffawed. “’Tis only polite. Suzette has…skills.”
“Odd. She said the same of you.”
They had reached the top of the stairs and taken no more than two steps downward when Jamie halted at the sound of greetings from below. “Bloody hell!”
He spun her around and topped the stairs, then turned her down a corridor past the salon.
“What—”
“It’s Gilbert Sayles and his friends. Lady Annica’s cousin? You danced with him at your first ball. He was smitten, Gina. He will recognize you.”
He threw a door open at the end of the corridor and she hurried in, dreading the thought that she might shame Lady Annica by her presence here.
Even the solid click of the door closing and locking could not pull her away from the vision in front of her. A single candle burned by a lavish bed, but the light of the single flame was reflected in what seemed to be a thousand mirrors. The walls were lined with them, and even the ceiling over the bed bore one. The draperies and bed hangings were either purple or deep violet—she could not tell which in the flickering shadows. But one thing was certain. This was a room made for illicit assignations.
“Sorry,” Jamie said. “We will have to wait him out.”
A carafe and glasses waited on one bedside table. Jamie poured himself a little and tasted it. “Brandy,” he said.
She nodded. “Just a bit.”
As she watched him pour measures into two glasses and bring one to her, she noted how interesting it was to see him from both sides. The mirrors were truly amazing. Had she ever noticed the tight curve of his buttocks before? The lean strength of his legs? The broad set of his shoulders? Had she been blind?
She took the glass from him and lifted it in a silent toast. “Will you have to pay for the room now that we’ve availed ourselves of the amenities?”
He grinned. “Should I have let you run headlong into Gilbert?”
She shook her head, thinking of her own tarnished condition amid cyprians and mistresses. “I think I am where I am supposed to be.” She was certainly where she wanted to be. Here. With Jamie. For whatever time they had left together.
His expression turned serious. “Gina…”
Tonight. That was all she had. Tonight. And then there would be no more Jamie. No more tenderness and soft sighs. No more honesty.
But there was still tonight.
Chapter Twenty
The raw emotion in Gina’s eyes took his breath away. She wanted him. Could he take her tonight and let her go tomorrow? Could he leave now, never to make love to her again? No, he couldn’t. A paradox. A riddle with no answer. He could only stand there, waiting. Wanting. Praying.
She took a step toward him and he started breathing again. When she entered his arms and he closed them about her, he felt whole. As if he held all that mattered in the world. And when she lifted her lips to his, he took them as they’d been offered—completely, sincerely, with a raw truth that humbled him.
He fumbled with her clothing as they kissed, undoing her gown quickly, but slowed by the corset laces. He did not take the time to unfasten them entirely, just loosen them enough to push the offending corset and chemise down over her hips, leaving her in only her white stockings and slippers. He carried her to the bed and threw the coverlet back, wanting to see her against the crisp linens, but she dragged him with her, her fingers working the knots of his cravat. He tossed her slippers over his shoulder but decided to leave the silk stockings as an erotic reminder of the sensuous nature of their encounter. His jacket, his waistcoat, his shirt, boots, breeches and drawers were quickly shed, and he lay on the bed beside her.
Her hair had come undone, tangling around her shoulders like a dark mantle. Her cheeks were flushed with the heat of her passion, and he loved her as much for that as anything. That she wanted him so desperately in this way was immensely satisfying. That she would give herself over to his handling was a sacred trust.
Tonight he would love her as she deserved.
He kissed her deeply, sighing when she invited him in with her tongue and her soft little moans. Oh, God, the sounds she made when he did something new—found a tender spot or deepened a caress—inflamed him, and he used them as a guide to her pleasure. He took his time, cherishing every moment.
When she could scarcely breathe, he left her mouth to kiss his way down to her breasts and cherish them both by turns. Her ripe, berrylike nipples were sweet on his tongue, teasing him, promising him delights to come, and he took them greedily.
He could read her heightened state of arousal in her rapid breathing and the restless way she arched to him. She would need release soon or he would lose her to the darkness of the other side of passion—pure lust without the refinement of love. His own need was mounting with alarming intensity, but he could not slake it at her expense. He pushed it back with all the determination he had, knowing the reward would be everything he wanted.
The woman-scent of her refused denial and he trailed his tongue lower, lower, still lower, until he found that other berry that pulsed against his tongue and told him that she was his for as long as he could hold her on the razor edge of release—not completely there, but on the brink. He knew how much pressure she would need, and the precise moment to apply it, but kept her keening for that release, denying it to intensify it when he granted it. She was like wildfire, burning hot and fast. For him. Only for him.
“Please…please…please…” she chanted.
And still he waited, savoring the sweet-salty taste of her, the scent that aroused something bone-deep in him, a primitive need.
She curled upward, her fingernails biting into his shoulders to drag him over her, to force him into her, but he pushed her back. Soon. A moment more. Just one moment more…
And there it was—the gasp and catch in her breathing that told him she was seconds from swooning. He flicked his tongue and pressed firmly as she arched, her head thrown back as the first shock wave crested. He rose above her and thrust deeply, entering her at the precise moment her climax began, and she screamed with the pure ecstasy of it. She was new to this depth of eroticism, but she had mastered it quickly.
She was snug and tight, her inner muscles rippling and tightening around his shaft in a slow, deep roll that drew a growl of primordial pleasure. But he was not quite done. He carried her along to another climax when her body gripped him as he thrust again and again, deeper and faster until his own release mingled with hers. The world spun out of control, blocking reason and thought. All that existed was pleasure, pure and primal.
Translucent tears trickled from the corners of her eyes as the storm passed and he came back to the moment. And to her. She was glorious, the most arousing thing he’d ever seen, and he loved her as he’d never thought he’d love anyone or anything.
She reached up to touch his face and trace the line of his jaw as he hovered over her. “Ah, Jamie. I have no words to express…”
There was passion written in her every touch and sigh, speaking what she could not. Still rooted within her, he grew hard again at the vision of her beneath him. When she felt his quickening, she smiled and stretched her arms above her head, opening herself to him and giving him the gift of her trust.
The gift humbled him and he vowed to cherish it. He returned her smile even as he accepted her invitation, moving again, building her arousal with a patience born of self-denial. Oh, she had much to learn about the depth of a man’s passion, and he was committed to teaching her.
Gina looked around at the ruins of her room. Open trunks, a wooden crate, boxes and tissue were scattered everywhere. She scarcely knew where to begin, and Nancy was too busy helping Mama to spare a moment for her.
And, oh, she did not want to be leaving so soon. She had too many
reasons to stay in London now. And one reason greater than all the rest. James Hunter. Her knees grew weak just thinking of the things he’d done last night. Things she’d never imagined in her wickedest, wildest dreams. Things that left her trembling and sated and exhausted today. And, yes, things she wanted to do again and again. But only with Jamie, and therein lay the problem.
After today, she would not have Jamie in her life. He wanted her, but not enough to answer her question. And with that uncertainty always hanging in the air between them, she knew she could not build a life with him.
But they still had tonight, and she would not squander that. If he would not take her to his flat, she would go back to Thackery’s with him and race for the dock in the morning.
“And this is what you get for waiting so long to pack, miss,” Nancy told her as she stood at Gina’s bedroom door.
She looked at the mound of gowns laying across her bed. “I cannot pack the French-blue gown, Nancy. It is my favorite, and I think I will wear it again tonight. Heaven only knows when I will find a chance to wear it in Belfast.”
“And that’s another thing, Miss. You ought not to be going out tonight. Mrs. O’Rourke arranged for a coach to be here before dawn to take us to the dock. Why, you’ll barely be home and changed by the time we’ll have to leave.”
There would be sufficient time for her to sleep on the ship, but tonight would be her last chance to see Jamie. Her last chance to tell Hortense and Harriett how much they meant to her, and to thank the ladies of the Wednesday League for their help, and for carrying on once she was gone. Yes, tonight would be her final farewell to what might have been. And to Jamie.
She shook her head. “Ought or not, I am going. There are people I need to see and say goodbye to, and there is no purpose to me pacing in my bedroom.”
Nancy shrugged. “I would think you would want to say your goodbyes to your sisters, miss.”
“They will be at Lady Sarah’s crush tonight. The guest list is quite large, so please do not wait up for me, Nancy. I may be dancing ’til dawn.” Oh, what an accomplished liar she was turning out to be.
A Rake by Midnight Page 22
