by Sophia Lynn
Lying in bed was the man himself, who had propped himself up against the pillows to watch her. The first thing she noticed was that he was bare-chested, revealing thick muscles and a light scattering of dark hair on his chest. The second thing she noticed was how the pure black sheets draped low over his hips, revealing nothing but bare skin. She could see the jut of one elegant hip bone, and she tore her eyes away with a deep blush.
"You can come a little closer than that. I am not going to eat you," he said, and Jordan's head snapped up in irritation.
"Of course, sir," she said stiffly, bringing the tray close to him. How was it that he was the one naked but she was the one with the blush on her cheeks?
Jordan came close to the bed, setting the tray down next to him as he had indicated.
"Will that be all, sir?" she asked dutifully, keeping her eyes down. It was better, at least, than looking at his chest and wondering what it might feel like to run her hands over his shoulders.
"Hmm. No."
Jordan looked up in surprise at his tone. There was something speculative there, something demanding, and she realized with a shiver that this was what a brush with power felt like. Cord Everett was a man who got his way, and there was no situation in which he would be denied.
"Sir?"
"I'm going to need you to take this tray back when I'm done."
Was that all? Jordan felt a sense of relief as well as a feeling of disappointment.
"Well, I could return for it—"
"No, that won't do. I detest the idea of leaving dishes and food in my bedroom for longer than necessary."
Jordan bit her lip, feeling as if she were a pinball being batted back and forth, but then he smiled at her. It was a slow smile, one that crossed his face with the sweetness of a spill of honey, and she found her heart beating a little faster in spite of herself.
"Besides, you can keep me company, can't you? We had such a lovely talk last night. I wouldn't mind continuing it."
"Is that what you would call it?" she asked, and then she realized that she was definitely talking out of turn. The part of her that had become a proper maid in a classic household was horrified. The rest of her was simply curious to see what he would do about it.
"I would indeed," he said, still smiling. "Now come have a seat here. I wish to eat, and I'm tired of looking over at you."
He patted the bed next to him, and she felt a thrill of nervousness go through her.
"Er, perhaps I could drag a chair over, sir?" she asked, painfully aware of a quaver in her voice. "I'm not sure that it’s altogether . . . I mean . . . appropriate for me to . . ."
There was a flicker of steel in his gaze, and when he spoke again, there was something hard there. He was not a man who was used to being denied, and she felt the urge to obey even before he spoke.
"I am the master of Waverly Manor," he growled, "and I am the one who decides what is appropriate. Now come sit down."
Almost before the words were out of his mouth, she was moving, and Jordan was almost surprised when she found herself perched where he had indicated. He chuckled a bit and reached for his food.
"You're new here, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," she said cautiously. "I suppose it's obvious?"
"A bit," he said. "And cut it out with calling me 'sir'. For some reason, it sounds ridiculous coming from you."
"What should I call you instead, then?" she asked with some asperity. "Mrs. O'Donnely told me that if she caught me referring to you or anyone you were with by anything except sir or ma'am, I would be fired."
Cord shook his head, chuckling a little. It was all very well for him to laugh, she thought rebelliously. He wasn't the one who might be fired for a slip of the tongue.
"Good old O'Donnely. She's always been hardline about the dignity of the household. Fine. Call me Cord when we're alone like this. Otherwise, I guess sir will be fine."
"When we're alone like this?" Jordan asked in alarm. "How . . . how often are we going to be alone like this?"
"Well, you're going to be bringing my breakfast to me every morning," he said blandly, and she nodded.
"Oh, right."
He ate in silence for a while, and Jordan was just thinking that she might be able to get out of this without any more problems when he spoke again.
"You are quiet this morning," he commented. "You certainly had a lot to say last night."
"You startled me last night," she retorted. "I was surprised. I didn't expect you to be there."
"In my own library, in my own house," he said with amusement. "I can imagine. I was hoping you might have a few more enlightening things to tell me about love."
She wondered if she was missing whole chunks of the conversation that she was meant to be having with this man. Otherwise, why did she constantly feel so at sea?
"Love?"
"You seemed to have a great deal to say about Brianna and how I paid her off. Tell me, in your voluminous romantic and sexual experience, how should I have handled that?"
Jordan wondered if she would light on fire with his words, but then the stubborn part of her, the part that kicked and bit and refused to go down easily, kicked in. She tilted her chin up defiantly and stared him straight in the eye.
"I guess it’s one thing to realize that you don't love someone anymore," she said. "That's . . . that's a thing that happens. However, I think that if you once did care about someone and you don't anymore, for whatever reason, I would hope that you would let them go with kindness."
"I don't know if you were eavesdropping long enough, but I did give her ten thousand dollars," he said drily, leaning back to look at her. There was an amusement in his voice that raised her hackles, but she fought it back.
"That's money," she repeated. "That's not kindness at all. It's . . . if you're poor, it's too much money to let go of, and you might accept it because you have no choice, but it is not kindness."
He stared at her, and for some reason, she thought that she might have gotten through to him.
"I see. So you would have accepted the money if you were in Brianna's shoes."
She gave him a baleful look.
"Of course I would have," she said coldly. "Do you think that I'm so well off that I can just turn down money like that no matter how much it hurt me? No matter how much my heart would have broken?"
She forced herself not to flinch as he reached a slow hand toward her face. They were at a point where propriety was long behind them, and if she was going to be getting herself in trouble anyway, she might as well make it count. If he thought he was going to make her flinch from a single touch, he was wrong.
He glided his fingertips over her cheek, and just that simple touch sent sparks of sensation through her body. She stirred, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Jordan leaned toward him, and then she remembered herself enough to open her eyes, to look at him with mute challenge.
"Do you think I would hurt you?" he asked, his tone low. He had a voice like honey and whiskey, Jordan thought absently, rich and smoky and sweet. "Do you think I would ever hurt you, Jordan?"
Why was her mouth so dry? Why did she feel as if her heart would beat its way right out of her chest?
"Of course you would," she said. "I know it."
His hand closed over the nape of her neck, and before she knew what he was doing, he dragged her close, his mouth covering hers. The kiss was just as electrifying as it had been the night before, and even worse, her body could anticipate it and long for it. He mastered her mouth with the skill of long practice, claiming it as if it was his by right.
"Oh," she whispered, and he chuckled.
She could feel the strength of his body as he kissed her. She had been dragged up against him, and seeking purchase, her hand was pressed against the warm skin of his chest. She could feel the crisp hair there, the heat and strength underneath, and God help her, she only wanted to touch him more.
He was just starting to press her down to the sheets when sense reassert
ed itself.
"No, no, we can't," she said, her voice high and breathy even in her own ears. "We can't!"
For a moment, Jordan was sure that he wouldn't listen to her. He would only tumble her onto the black sheets, kissing her and lighting her on fire.
Then he pulled back for a moment, and though there was fire there, there was also a kind of sweetness and understanding that went deep. She was still puzzling it out when he spoke.
"I'll let you get up if you do one thing."
She licked her dry lips.
"What?" she asked nervously.
"Call me by my name."
That was easy enough, but for some reason, she had to take a deep breath to do it.
"Cord," she murmured, unsure why saying a single name would make her blush.
When she said his name, his face lit up in a bright smile and he pulled away from her. Her body cried out at the loss, and she knew that if he had pressed forward, she would have been utterly lost to the sensations he had awakened.
"That's a start, I suppose," he said, rolling back in bed with a satisfied smile. "You can take the tray now."
At first, she had no idea what he was talking about, and then he pointed at the tray. Jordan blushed, murmuring her apologies, and she grabbed the tray and all but ran for the door, his soft laugh ringing in her ears.
When there was a thick door closed between them, she couldn't stop herself from shivering a little. Her eyes felt too wide, her lips too red. Her breath was still coming fast. She took a moment to pull herself together, to straighten her uniform, and to compose herself before she walked back downstairs.
Remember, you are here for one reason and one reason only, and that is to destroy his father's reputation, she told herself. To get justice for your own father.
However, as she felt the faint ghost of Cord's kiss on her lips, she knew that her job had just gotten a lot harder.
Chapter Five
The next day, Jordan was informed that her breakfast duties wouldn't be necessary for the next few mornings as Mr. Everett had been called away for a land deal in Illinois. Jordan told herself that she was relieved, but that didn't account for the strange pang of longing that struck at the core of her.
I would be just fine if he stayed away forever, she thought rebelliously. I have work to do, after all.
However, she couldn't lie to herself, and she knew that the strange dreams that had been troubling her lately, ones that left her awake and wide-eyed in the dark of her little room, had more to do with Cord than she wanted to say. She didn't know when she had started thinking of him as Cord rather than as Mr. Everett, but it seemed like a permanent change.
The second night he was gone, she made her way to the library again. At two in the morning, dressed in her pajamas and ready with an excuse of insomnia, she opened the glass cabinets and flipped through the old pages. She was at it for almost two hours before she had to give it up for a bad job. Everything detailed there was dull and legal, so far as she could find, and she could not see any mention of her father's name at all.
With dawn showing up on the horizon, she replaced the books in the cabinets and returned to her room. She felt dejected but far from defeated. This meant that she would just have to search harder.
She wasn't quite sure where to search next, but two days later, she was summoned for breakfast duty again.
"Did you miss me?" Cord asked from the bed, and she shot him a wry look as she bumped the door closed behind her.
"Did I miss having you add another chore to my list in the morning, you mean?" she asked with a wry look, and he laughed out loud.
"Damn, who made you so quick?" he asked as she laid the tray down beside him.
She settled herself imperiously on the edge of his bed because damned if she was going to be ordered to do it again, and she watched as he ate.
"I guess it was my mother," she said softly, and he glanced up at her.
"You are using the past tense, I see."
"I am. She died when I was sixteen. She was really popular at the restaurant where we worked, and she always said that you could get a lot more tips if you could make people laugh a little."
"Wise woman," he commented, and she nodded.
"I still miss her," Jordan said, surprising herself, and Cord glanced at her with surprise, making her frown.
"I'm sorry. Am I not meant to miss someone if they can't offer me the correct payoff?" she snapped, and she saw an assortment of complex emotions cross his face.
"You sound like a little cat right now," Cord observed. "All pent up and looking for something to claw."
She felt a dull heat rise in her, and maybe he was right, but that only made her angrier. Her eyes narrowed and she sat up a little straighter.
"I'm sure that you know best, sir," she said.
Instead of irritating him, as she had half-hoped it would, it made him smile again.
"I can see that I was right," Cord observed. "I thought there was something grumpy about you ever since you walked in, Jordan. Maybe it was because you missed me so much?"
"Definitely not," she spat, and he laughed outright.
"What a sour girl. What can we do about making her sweeter?"
She had at least a few tart retorts for that, but then he was setting the tray on the bedside table and taking her by the shoulders. Before she knew what was what, he was pressing her flat on her back on the bed.
Oh God, he really is naked. Jordan had time to think, but then he was leaning over her, his mouth covering her own.
The kiss swept her away from herself. That was the only way to put it. There was something about the way he kissed her that dragged a deep and abiding heat from the core of her, sending sparks throughout her body. When he rolled half on top of her so he could kiss her more deeply, she couldn't stop herself from pressing her body against his and whimpering a little into his mouth.
"What do you think?" Cord asked, pulling back from her a little. "Do you think that you’re feeling a little less sour?"
Jordan bared her teeth at him, feeling about as small and helpless as the kitten he compared her to. Beneath his strength, there was nearly nothing she could do, but that certainly didn't mean that she was going to go down without a fight.
"Go to hell, sir," she snapped, and she saw his blue eyes darken at that.
"We'll see about that," he responded, and he started to kiss her again.
This time, he didn't restrain himself to her lips. Instead, his hot mouth traveled to her sensitive ear lobe, making her squirm with the sensations he discovered there, and then he trailed down her neck. He reached behind her to unzip her uniform, loosening her collar and giving himself access to her tender throat, her collarbones, and her shoulder.
Jordan shivered as he slid his hand up her thigh, because she knew what he was going to find. She opened her eyes just in time to see his eyebrows go up.
"Well, well, this is an interesting secret the maid keeps under her skirts," he murmured, and she blushed a little.
He pulled up her skirts to reveal her legs, clad not in tights but in thick black stockings and connected to a garter belt by bright silver clips.
"Now correct me if I'm wrong, but these don't look standard for the maids of Waverly Manor," he murmured, running a finger along the top of one stocking. The pale skin underneath felt ungodly sensitive, and Jordan had to bite back a whine.
"They're not," she panted. "They're . . . they're what I have to use because the tights keep rolling down on me! They said that I had to make sure that my stockings don't droop or bunch, and this was the solution I came up with."
Cord laughed a little, running one finger just underneath the black elastic strap that ran up to the belt above her waist.
"Oh, I’m not complaining at all," he purred.
Before she could figure out what he was doing, he hooked one finger under the elastic strap and snapped it against her skin.
"Oh!"
It wasn't really pain at all. He had ba
rely lifted the strap from her thigh, and when he let it go, the sting was there and gone in a blink. However, though it was something she had done herself idly as a fidget, there was something unspeakably intimate about his doing it, and the sting traveled all the way to the core of her, heating her and making her squirm.
Blushing hard, she tried to push her skirts back down, but he stopped her, pinning both of her hands in one of his and holding them over her head. The other hand was free to explore, running from her thighs to her knees and back again. She realized, blushing hard and whimpering a little, that he was looking at her more closely than any man ever had, seeing her wide hips, her round belly, the unfashionable black panties she wore . . .
"God, do you have any idea how delicious you look?" he growled. "All spread out for me like some kind of sacrifice, all this black fabric against your white skin?"
Jordan tried to answer, but it came out as a moan when he slid one finger under the leg opening of her panties, running a light finger over the crease of her thigh.
"You're so hot here," Cord murmured, tugging gently at the light fabric. "I can smell you, and if I reached just a little farther, I could feel it too."
What the hell am I doing? Jordan thought with shock. Am I seriously going to let him do this? Dear God.
It seemed as if the answer was yes, she was going to let Cord do what he liked. He reached for the waistband of her panties, tugging them down slightly. The band of her garter belt sat on the indent of her waist, above the panties, and the long straps that clipped to the stockings pressed the panties to her skin. Cord worked her panties down her thighs patiently, speaking almost casually as he did so.
"I see you wear your garters like an American girl," he said softly. "Underwear first, and garters over. It's considered the good-girl way to wear your garters, you know. Means you have to struggle whenever you pull them down."
