A Daring Arrangement

by Joanna Shupe

  She arched her back, pleasure streaking like lightning throughout her body, as if those two taut buds were directly connected to the place between her legs. Each pluck and twist echoed below, increasing the ache. Then he pulled away, reaching for the cloth once more. Frustration bloomed and she squirmed in the water. “Attempting to torture me?”

  He nipped her earlobe. “Yes. Is it working?”

  Considering the large erection increasing behind her, she wasn’t the only one being tortured.

  “I wrote to Robert,” she heard herself say.

  Heavy muscles tensed as he stiffened. “Nora, I’d rather not hear—”

  “I broke things off with him.”

  A long beat passed, the room filled only with the sounds of their breathing and the soft lapping of water against the porcelain. “When?” he asked.

  “After the night in the turret.”

  “I . . . Why did you not tell me?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t certain you’d be interested. After all, he’s never been much of a deterrent for your plans.”

  “True.” He dragged the wet cloth over her arm and shoulder, along her neck. “But that couldn’t have been an easy decision for you.”

  “No, but the right ones rarely are. He deserved to know the truth.”

  “I feel as if I should apologize, but that would be a lie. I’m not sorry.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  “He didn’t deserve you, Nora.”

  She couldn’t argue. Robert deserved someone who loved him and only him, not a woman so easily led astray by another man. “This arrangement between us . . . I’ll not fault you if you want out. After all, I no longer need to return to England and you’ve already begun ferreting out your father’s investors. Undoubtedly you’ll succeed without my help.”

  He said nothing for a long moment, just continued the maddening swipes of the cloth over her skin. “I hadn’t considered that, but I do hate to back out of an agreement. Gentleman’s word and all that.”

  “I thought you were no gentleman.”

  He bent his head and nuzzled her throat, his lips and tongue sliding over the damp flesh while his hand slipped down below. He cupped her mound possessively. “I’m definitely no gentleman. What gentleman would seduce his fake fiancée not once, but twice in one night?”

  “Twice?”

  His finger pushed inside her, curling up to press a particularly sensitive spot, and her back bowed from the sudden jolt of pleasure. He nipped the side of her throat. “Yes, I am seducing you now, in case you were not aware.”

  “Then I, for one, am quite glad you are not a gentleman.”

  “Good, because I’m not letting you out of our agreement early. You owe me five more weeks. Then we will have worked this all out of our systems and may return to our independent purposes.”

  Five more weeks. Something twisted in her chest. Silly time limit. How naïve she had been at the start of it all. Here she’d thought the deadline would protect her, ensure that things progressed speedily. Now that time limit felt like a sharp blade hanging above her head, just waiting to fall and strike.

  Only a few more weeks. The thought instantly depressed her. At best, she’d see him three times a week, perhaps four. That was a rapidly dwindling set of encounters to last a lifetime once this ended. And it would end. He’d made his wishes perfectly clear from the beginning—and even hearing Robert had been cast aside hadn’t caused Julius to rethink his stance on marriage and children.

  No, he believed that five weeks would help them forget each other. Nora now knew the opposite would occur. That time would only dig her in deeper, and the heartache when he finally said good-bye might very well break her.

  Why could she not have picked a different fake fiancé? One who might actually love her back?

  Wait . . . love?

  Her lids fell and she let out a shuddering breath. Dear God, she’d fallen in love with the rogue. The one unacceptable, unattainable man in New York City and she had gone and handed her heart right over to him—not that he wanted it. How could she be so stupid?

  He shifted to add another finger, filling her, and any thoughts of stupidity and broken hearts flew right out of her mind. All she could concentrate on was the here and now, and Julius’s electric touch. “Oh, yes,” she sighed, melting into the water.

  He chuckled, his chest rising behind her. “Besides, posing as your fiancé puts me at an advantage over all the other men in New York City. I am permitted certain liberties others are not.”

  Fingers withdrawing, he circled her entrance slowly, teasing her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She struggled to keep her wits. “Is that what you call this? Taking liberties?”

  “No. I call this vital to my sanity. You have driven me to distraction for these many weeks. There were days I feared my cock would never deflate.”

  With a moan, she tried to reach behind her to comfort said organ. Julius stopped her by shifting to cradle her in his arms. He then lifted her out of the bath. Water rained down over the tub and the floor as he stepped out of the massive piece, handling her as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

  “You do not want me touching you?” she asked.

  “I want it very badly. So badly that I need to be inside you quickly.”

  She smiled at his handsome profile, leaning in to run her teeth along his jaw. “More liberties again?”

  “Indeed—and I plan on taking them.”

  Julius stared at the ticker tape, the small numbers blurring before his eyes. He’d been unable to stop thinking about last night, about finally having Nora naked in his bed. She’d been so much more than he’d expected. Bold and giving, funny and tender . . . Twice hadn’t been nearly enough. Even five more weeks did not seem a sufficient time to fully enjoy her charms. Why had he agreed on that ridiculous time limit in the first place?

  What would she do at the end of that time now that Robert had been cast off? He hadn’t been capable of asking if she planned to return to England or stay in America. He wasn’t sure he could handle her answer.

  Perhaps she intended to find herself a true fiancé. That caused a pounding ache in his brain. He rubbed his forehead, contemplating. She deserved happiness, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted it flaunted in his face. Better she returned to London and found some tea-swilling, jolly old chap to settle down with in a palace somewhere.

  “Never marry, my boy,” his father had said during those last drunken ramblings. “Because when you fail, you hurt everyone you love.”

  And they had hurt. The loss of Warren Hatcher had been keenly felt, as if he’d been the glue holding the entire family together. How could one man be expected to shoulder so much?

  Even if Julius were considering marriage, Nora was clearly out of his reach. She should marry a man with hundreds of years of history, with privilege and standing. Not one who’d struggled and narrowly escaped the squalor of the streets.

  “Sir, right there—did you see RNJ Corp.?”

  Julius straightened at Martin’s excited voice. His assistant was reading the stock updates on the tape falling uselessly through Julius’s fingers. “I must’ve missed it. Show me.”

  “Here.” He shoved the paper in front of Julius’s face. “It jumped eight whole points in the last hour. As you predicted.”

  “Ha! Get it sold, then—and my thanks for catching that. I’m as dull as a post today.”

  Martin hurried to the phone to call the broker and Julius reached for the tepid coffee on the corner of his desk. Before he could take a sip, Brandywine appeared in the doorway.

  “Sir, you have visitors. Mr. Pendleton and Mr. Cortland.”

  Nora’s uncle? What was he doing here? With Pendleton? “Of course. Show them back.”

  He asked Martin for a moment or two of privacy, then stood and slipped on his top coat, which he’d taken off at the start of trading this morning. The two men soon walked in and he shook both their hands in greeting.

&n
bsp; “Appreciate you seeing us, Hatcher,” Pendleton said, settling himself in a chair opposite the desk. “I know this is a busy time of day for you.”

  “Not a problem. Would either of you care for coffee?”

  Both gentlemen passed and Cortland leaned forward. “We wanted to let you know the status of your membership application.”

  Oh, the Gotham Club. He’d nearly forgotten all about it, what with Nora naked in his bed and all. “And what has been decided?”

  “The board has accepted your application,” Pendleton said, a little too smugly. As if he’d been single-handedly responsible. “But then we all knew this was just a formality. We’re honored to have you.”

  “Excellent. That is good news.” Did membership acceptance generally warrant a personal visit from the president? Highly doubtful. So why were they here? Julius remained silent and tried to work out this puzzle in his mind.

  “Yes, everyone is looking forward to seeing you at the club. Perhaps you’d care to share dinner one of these evenings?” Pendleton lifted a brow, and Julius suspected additional stock tips were at the heart of this request.

  “I’ll ask my assistant to check my calendar and let you know,” he hedged.

  “I look forward to it.” Pendleton rose and extended his hand. “We gentlemen must look out for one another.”

  Julius felt himself frowning at the words as he shook Pendleton’s hand. Why did that phrase sound familiar? He must have read it stitched on a pillow in one of the Knickerbocker drawing rooms he’d frequented lately. “Indeed. My thanks for bringing the news yourself.”

  Pendleton waved a hand. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re friends, after all, aren’t we?”

  Julius merely smiled to hide his annoyance. He’d met the man exactly once before today. Friends seemed a bit of a stretch. He extended his hand toward Cortland, but Nora’s uncle turned to Pendleton instead. “If you don’t mind, I need to have a word with Hatcher. I’ll take a hack when we’re through.”

  Instantly, Julius worried that Nora’s uncle had discovered what had occurred last evening. Perhaps Nora had been caught sneaking back inside the Cortland house. Or maybe she’d confessed to her aunt and uncle this morning. Bracing himself for the worst, Julius rang for Brandywine, who quickly appeared and escorted Pendleton to the front door.

  When they were alone, Cortland asked, “Any further trouble on the property?”

  “No,” he replied carefully. “Though I’ve hired men to keep watch on the premises, so perhaps they’ve been a deterrent.”

  Cortland nodded. “And your office? I know there was a break-in the night of the fire. Was anything missing?”

  “Hard to tell in the chaos, but it appeared intact. I don’t anticipate any further incidents, if that’s your concern.”

  “Nora is quite dear to us. I would hate for her to come to harm.”

  “As would I. And I assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to protect her.” While giving her bone-rattling orgasms.

  “Good. I knew we could rely on you. I’ll leave you to your work.” They both stood just as the door swung open. Brandywine had returned, this time with Frank Tripp right behind him. Christ, would Julius get any business done today?

  Cortland and Tripp said a quick hello before Nora’s uncle departed. Frank strolled in, a packet of papers in his hand. “Ah, still cozying up to the father-in-law, I see. Does this mean all is going smoothly in the land of fake engagements?”

  Julius didn’t want to admit things were going much better than smoothly. The soreness in his lower back today was proof of just how well things were going between he and Nora.

  “Oh, indeed?” Tripp dropped into a chair, tossed the papers to Julius, and propped his feet on Julius’s desk. “Progressing that well, is it?”

  “Mind your own business, Frank.”

  Tripp’s brow shot up. “First names, are we? My, my. She has gotten under your skin quickly.”

  Julius narrowed his gaze at the man across from him. “Have you a purpose this morning or are you here merely to pester me?”

  Tripp grinned easily, not offended in the least. He pointed at the packet he’d tossed onto the desk. “First, those are the insurance papers from the fire. All you need to do is sign them for the claim. Second, I came to see how the plans for the masquerade are coming. Lent begins—”

  “I’m not holding the masquerade.”

  Tripp’s feet fell flat to the floor as he straightened. “You were serious about that? You’re not holding it?”

  Though certain to be unpopular with his friends, the decision was the right one under the circumstances. Julius did not want to host a drunken orgy while he and Nora were still . . . doing whatever they were doing. “That’s correct. No masquerade this year.”

  “This is because of your fiancée.” Tripp’s head cocked as he studied Julius. “Christ, you’re in love with her.”

  Julius felt his entire body recoil. “I’m not in love with her, for fuck’s sake. I’m merely not interested in cavorting with half-naked dancers while stumbling drunk right now.”

  “Right now, while you’re engaged.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I thought this was a fake engagement, that she’s got some beau back in London and you’ve no interest in marrying her. Am I wrong?”

  Tripp and his goddamn lawyer’s logic. “You’re not wrong, except there’s no beau any longer.”

  “Oh, I see.” His friend didn’t even bother fighting his smug grin. “Yes, this all makes perfect sense.”

  “I’m not amused,” Julius said.

  “Only because I’m pointing out the truth. You’re in love with your fake fiancée, which also terrifies you. Because what will you do if she decides she wants to keep you?” Tripp then rose and whistled on his way out of Julius’s office.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nora strolled along Sixth Avenue beside her aunt. This was the posh shopping district in New York City, or Ladies’ Mile as it was called. Large ornate department stores with their cast-iron façades lined the blocks, the elevated occasionally rumbling by overhead. The bitter weather prevented casual shoppers today, the crowds thinner than she’d seen on past trips.

  “We must see about ordering your trousseau,” Aunt Bea said.

  Nora blinked, nearly tripping on the walk. She hadn’t expected this topic to come up so soon. “Oh, there’s plenty of time for that. Perhaps after Easter.”

  “No, that won’t do. We’ll let Worth do the dress, of course, but your trousseau takes time as well. I made an appointment at Lord & Taylor for today. We may at least start to narrow down your fabrics and colors.”

  Today? Good heavens. Her aunt had not mentioned a thing about a trousseau when they’d departed earlier, else Nora would have invented an excuse to stay home. She didn’t want to order clothes for a wedding that would never transpire.

  “You owe me five more weeks. Then we will have worked this all out of our systems and may return to our independent purposes.”

  A lump formed in her throat, a knot of misery that nearly choked her. Last night, while glorious, had proven two things. First, she had fallen desperately in love with Julius; and second, their fake engagement would not end with a real wedding.

  Of course, she had no one to blame but herself. This whole plan had been flawed from the start. Julius had been irresistible from the moment they’d met, and every second in his presence had slowly weakened her feelings for Robert as well as her resolve to return to England.

  Just over one month.

  What would she do then? She hadn’t ever contemplated a life without Robert. They had planned to travel Europe—more his idea than hers—and she had quickly found herself looking forward to seeing a bit of the world. Perhaps she could still fill this craving for adventure and excitement on her own.

  You’re the brave one, Nora. You don’t need a husband or a fiancé to show you that.

  “Aunt Bea,” she said as they continued toward Lord &
Taylor. “I really think we should—”

  A man slammed into her shoulder, jostling her. Gasping, Nora glanced up—and froze. His hat was pulled low and he appeared gaunt, scruffier than usual, but she would recognize those soulful brown eyes anywhere. Robert.

  “I beg your pardon,” Robert said in a low voice and strode the opposite direction. Mind reeling, Nora watched him dart into an alley.

  What in the name of St. Peter was he doing here?

  She had to speak with him, to find out why he was in New York. How long had he been here? Goodness, perhaps that had been him standing outside the exchange after all.

  Her hands trembled as she reached for her aunt’s arm, pulling the older woman to a stop. “Aunt Bea, I need to run into a store a block past. Why don’t I meet you inside Lord & Taylor?”

  “Of course, dear. Shall I come with you?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll only be a moment. Then I’ll come to the bridal department.”

  “Excellent. If I’m not there, look for me in hats. I’ve ordered Easter bonnets for us.”

  Nora nodded, then started off in the direction Robert had taken. Checking over her shoulder, she ensured her aunt had continued on. Then she hurried to the alley and darted inside, peering into the gloom of trash bins and boxes. “Robert,” she whispered, creeping farther into the dim space.

  She picked her way through the refuse and garbage on the hard ground. Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth and she was jerked into the shadows. Panic rose but she fought the sensation. It’s Robert.

  Sure enough, when they were concealed from view he dropped his hand. He’d removed his hat, and hair hung in his handsome face in his familiar affected style. His brow was lined with unhappiness.

  “Robert, what are you—”

  “I cannot believe you are marrying him,” he said with no preamble. “How could you do this to us?”

  She blurted, “What are you doing in New York?”

  “I came to find you. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “But your letters . . . They never stopped.”

  “I had a friend post them—and you are avoiding the question. Who is this Hatcher fellow and why are you marrying him?”