Suzi Love

by Embracing Scandal

  “You must be desperate if you’re willing to marry such a bookish woman in order to acquire investment advice.”

  He chortled evilly. “Who mentioned marriage? There are other less permanent means of encouraging a woman to share a few morsels of gossip.”

  Barely able to reign in his temper, Cayle tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Step outside with me, Lindley. I want a private conversation with you.”

  Ignoring the order, Viscount Lindley looked Cayle up and down before remarking in a loud voice, “Sherwyn, cut your step mama’s leading strings at last.”

  Cayle fought for control, understanding that losing his temper in a crowded room would feed Julia’s greedy purpose by showing him to be an unfit Duke of Sherwyn. However, Lindley had deliberately insulted him and he couldn’t ignore the taunt.

  His fists clenched at his side. Before he could raise one in retaliation, a soft hand circled the middle of his back. Becca slid around beside him and wrapped her gloved hand about his, folding his arm firmly against his side. He could easily have shrugged off her unwanted interference and her attempt to restrain him, but it would serve no purpose to brawl like street ruffians in Mrs Simpson’s elegant rooms.

  Smiling at his companions, Becca said, “I believe my aunt is ready to depart, Your Grace.”

  Pulling himself together for her sake, Cayle relaxed his tense muscles and nodded his acquiesce to Becca. “Of course. The poor lady will be tiring by now.”

  Leaning in to the two men, he warned, “We’ll continue this discussion at a later date. At a more private location.”

  Viscount Lindley sneered again. “When you’re able to escape your domestic duties with the Jamison horde, Sherwyn, you’ll find Julia at my uncle’s house. However, they won’t appreciate interruptions. He’d several exotic games planned for their evening. Games involving another dozen like-minded hellions and perhaps a footman or a maid or two.”

  Cayle sucked in a breath. Only Becca’s firm restraining hand on his arm kept him from doing violence to the arrogant man making such crude taunts to his face. And, in front of a lady.

  “You will speak with respect of every member of my family, Lindley, or we will be meeting at dawn.”

  Becca jerked on his arm to regain his attention. “Cayle, no. He’s not worth endangering your reputation.”

  Then she turned to the viscount to address him with rigid formality, yet in a quiet and earnest voice. “Viscount Lindley, I know the extent of your borrowings and your debts.”

  He stared at her aghast, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror. “How would you, a woman,” he spat out the words, “know anything about my financial affairs?”

  Becca stretched up to whisper in his ear. Cayle leaned closer to hear as she recited a list of figures that was incomprehensible for him. The effect on the viscount, however, was quite different. Lindley’s face blanched to the colour of a sheet on washing day.

  Becca patted his hand as if he were a wayward child and added, “You may call on me at Jamison House on Thursday. At precisely ten o’clock.”

  The sagging viscount nodded and bowed. “Of course, my lady.”

  “And there will be no talk of duels, do you understand me?”

  To Cayle’s amazement, Lindley hastened to agree.

  Then Becca fixed the viscount’s friend with a haughty look and he too shriveled under her piercing stare. “Mr Boswood, I fear your grand-mama will be greatly distressed to learn you’re acting as less than a gentleman. She spoke to me only yesterday about a new will.”

  Becca leaned in closer to emphasise her point. Boswood’s hand shook slightly when she clasped it between her gloved fingers.

  “A visit from her favourite grandson may influence her in a favourable manner. However, a word in her ear from a concerned friend, namely me, may influence her in an unfavourable way.”

  Boswood paled even whiter than his ally. He visibly trembled. Neither he nor Lindley spoke. With a nod at the two chastened men, Becca steered a bemused yet seething Cayle to the door to execute a polite departure from their hosts.

  Chapter 8

  After assisting the ladies inside at Grosvenor Square, Cayle politely requested a few moments to confer with Becca. A tired Aunt Agatha blithely waved a hand towards the sitting room without even asking for the door to be left ajar.

  Becca was right. Her family saw her as a chaperone for her sisters. Not a beautiful woman who’d tempt any man to sin. Her aunt must be batty, blind, or pretending oblivion if she hadn’t noticed his reaction each time he was near Becca. His mind filled with lustful reveries of how and where he’d like to have her. Spread wide on a picnic blanket in a grassy meadow. Hair glowing sun-red while he licked tiny droplets of perspiration running between her breasts. Lips tasting of fresh air and sunshine and warm skin smelling like wildflowers.

  “What did you want to discuss, Cayle?”

  He started when Becca interrupted his dreams. “You should not have interfered tonight. In future, you’ll keep well away from those men and leave me to deal with them.”

  “No. I’ve every right to step in and prevent a fight. It was your idea to demonstrate how close we are again.” With her hands planted on her hips, Becca faced him with seething defiance. “And I couldn’t allow you to risk everything you’ve worked so hard for simply to battle with a half wit like Lindley. If I hadn’t intervened, you’d have been fighting over weapons like boys playing warriors.”

  Cayle paced the length of the room. He sighed. Striding back to Becca, he lifted her hands from her hips and held them. He brushed his fingers back and forth across her taut fingers and nodded.

  “Brawling in Mrs Simpson’s house would have stirred exactly the type of gossip I’ve been avoiding.” He stroked her fingers. “Thank you. I can’t let Julia gain the upper hand.”

  “We both have the same problem. Avoiding scandal at all costs. Especially as we both want the best for our brothers and sisters. Laura and Lottie need to be seen at their best during the season.”

  He hid a smile. “Your sisters’ natures will not make that easy.” He laughed. “They’ve been painted with the wild brush. Like their sister.”

  “This isn’t amusing. And I’m not wild. I’m enthusiastic.”

  “Enthusiastic.” He almost choked. “You’re reckless. And Laura and Lottie are following in your footsteps.”

  She glared at him. “You infuriating man. I can’t do this without their help. As soon as the syndicate members are behind bars, I shall direct Laura and Lottie back to gentler pursuits.”

  “I cannot picture your sisters paying afternoon visits and stitching handkerchiefs. They’re too … ah … enthusiastic.” He raised his hand to stop her retort. “I apologise. And I do appreciate you calming the waters with Lindley.”

  Becca’s rigid posture relaxed. “Yes, you’re in my debt.”

  His eyes roved over every curve. “I promise. I’ll find the perfect way to repay you.”

  He heard her breath hitch deep in her throat. Knew he’d stirred her imagination as to the ways he might repay her. Ways that involved his mouth and hands and every crevice on her body. Their conversations had always leapt from inane to sensual faster than lightning strikes. Her breasts rose and fell with each heavy breath and showed her rising awareness. He knew what it would lead to, even if Becca didn’t.

  Better to issue a lecture on future meddling. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  • • •

  Even as he spoke, he knew he could well be the very person who hurt her most. He couldn’t live with himself if his stupidity made Becca suffer a second time. Her softer gender, diminutive size, and inherent bravery stirred his masculine and gentlemanly instincts. Becca would swallow the nails produced in her factories, however, before she’d admit that she needed him to physically protect her. He looked forward to the time when, after he’d dealt with the bothersome syndicate members, Becca would recognise that he was more reliable than her inconstant fath
er. And a much pleasanter person than Arthur.

  While he tried to marshal his wayward thoughts, Becca was, as usual, waving her hands and telling him what she thought. Never one to hold back her words, she leapt feet first into conversations, and by habit he’d followed.

  So many things were exactly as he remembered between them. Becca remained the balm that soothed his soul.

  “I can find nothing to smile at after tonight’s episode. As usual, Viscount Lindley proved his mettle as a troublemaker.”

  The consortium had been watching her for two weeks and now, thanks to him, the worst rogues who hunted the ballrooms looking for young women to prey upon had Becca in their sights. She and her sisters thought themselves capable of dealing with all kinds of gentlemen but he understood how men like Lindley thought.

  Holding a title and wealth spoilt them, made them think the world was theirs for the taking. If he’d remained in London, who knows, he may have become one of them himself. Shallow and self-obsessed. Although, he’d like to think he had more integrity, more moral fibre than those whose greed knew no bounds.

  “How is it you and your sisters are so well acquainted with so many gentlemen when you’ve been avoiding society?”

  She shrugged. “Many of my friends joined me when I started the society. I don’t discriminate. I show women of all classes how to manage their banking, to understand investments. We share luncheons, teas, and they have male relatives that we often meet.” She gave a little laugh. “Several of those men even consult with me before they spend money. Mind you, they’d never admit such a lowering idea among their associates.”

  “What hold do you have over Lindley?”

  Her reply was deliberately vague. “My family hears things.”

  “How do you hear these things?”

  She shrugged. “Laura listens. Lottie flatters. And I — ”

  “You what?”

  “I think, and analyse.”

  Cayle’s frustration increased at her evasion, and her continuing refusal to confide in him. If she continued to flaunt her presence in public, under the noses of the very men who hated her and everything she stood for, he wasn’t sure what to do to protect her. “For once, you stubborn fool, could you give me a straight answer. What do you analyse?”

  “I look at property. Investments. Inventions.”

  Now he was incredulous. “These men let a woman advise them on inventions?”

  “Well, no. Not precisely. More on whether the profits will be good if they invest money into the production of those inventions.”

  “I thought that Michael made those decisions.” Frowning, he studied her closely. “Why do I always feel you’re keeping things from me?”

  Flashing a mischievous smile, she reminded him of the amazing girl she’d been. His heart ached.

  “Who me? Would I do that?”

  Forced to laugh as she intended, he understood she was changing the subject. Again.

  “You’re as slippery as an eel. But tonight was only a taste of things to come. You may have subdued Lindley and Boswood, but there were others there. There’ll be others everywhere we go, taunting one of us. Me for my past. You for your future. I’m releasing you from our agreement.”

  “If you’ll recall, I didn’t want to seek out information for myself in the ton, which is precisely the reason I approached you. Yet, it became clear tonight that it’s beneficial for me to attend. To see and hear for myself. Before I make decisions, I take time to analyse all available information.”

  With a smile, he watched her. Her eyes dilated with fire and passion as she talked with animation of mathematics and accounting and it was beyond him to resist. This tiny bluestocking made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

  “You give so much of yourself. To your family, to others. When do you take?” Trailing his fingers over her face, he watched her reaction. “When do you just let yourself feel, enjoy?”

  As he pushed forward, she stepped backwards until she was trapped at the wall.

  He’d sooner die than frighten her, but her breath hitched and he recognised it as arousal, not fright.

  “Stop me, Becca.”

  She shook her head and continued her bright eyed gazing at him, enthralled by the path of his fingers. Down her cheek to brush sideward across her lips and then slowly, tantalisingly back again. Her tongue poked out just enough to touch his finger, to moisten it. He jumped and jerked it back but his lower body pushed closer, pinning her to the wall.

  “Hell, Becca. Stop me.”

  Once again, she shook her head.

  With an agonised groan, he shifted so his entire body melded hers, so every lush curve fitted like a soft glove to complement the hard muscled length of him. He ran his tongue over her lips until her mouth opened and his hunger took over.

  This time, it was his lips brushing hers, softly, gently at first and then harder and faster.

  Latching on to her pliant mouth, he feasted again and again until he felt her body tremble and her knees gave way. He pressed her harder against the wall. And still he couldn’t release her. The tide of need that swept him was unstoppable.

  Desire had never felt so intense, so driving.

  He wanted to devour her, to suck her up like a ripe peach.

  Warm and pliant, she felt so right in his arms that his normally rigid control flew out the window and he drew her even closer against his aroused body.

  “Becca, Becca.” He chanted her name as he kissed and nuzzled her face and then down her neck. One hand moved to where her swollen breast strained at the thin lace. “I need to see you. I need to look.” Again he hesitated, met her gaze and held it silently, and waited for permission.

  • • •

  Becca felt none of the same hesitation.

  She smiled as she nodded to Cayle, willingly gifting him her consent.

  “Touch me. Show me.”

  The firelight reflected the emotions on his face as he engaged two thumbs to ease down the neckline of her gown. Awe, amazement, reverence. The power of it made her soar and fly. That she could do this to him. Create such craving and hunger. Make him cry out with wanting her.

  Unable to tear her gaze away, Becca watched Cayle’s hands cup the breasts he’d bared to the air. He tested their size and weightiness by holding them in his palms and then he rubbed his thumbs over her puckered peaks. Eyes fixed with desire lifted to meet her gaze and his voice was husky and reverent.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He jiggled her breasts a little. “These are incredible. Soft, and fuller than I remembered, pale yet lustrous. And you have tiny freckles sprinkled like fairy dust over their tops.”

  The poetry of his words melted her, inside and out. Several men had paid homage to her beauty, although in comparison to Laura and Lottie her colouring interested rather than stunned. And of course, her family paid her compliments for her intellect and soft heart. Yet now, this man, this darkly handsome man who’d known many women, appeared enthralled by her curves. All of a sudden, she felt proud of her woman’s body. Proud that hers was so different to his that he sought to worship it. Despite her avid declarations that she didn’t need a man in her life, she did want one. This one. She wanted Cayle to worship her body.

  His head dipped and surprise caught her as his sharp teeth gently nipped the tip of one nipple. Then a lathe of his raspy tongue soothed it. Combined sensations of pain and pleasure were almost unbearable. He sucked one erect nipple into the warmth of his mouth and she shook. He tweaked the other with his fingers and she panted. Between her legs, she felt a rush of fluid and a curious ache started there. She knew that only he could stop the yearning and ease the pain. She needed everything he could give her.

  “More. More.”

  “Sweetheart, you are astonishing.” A hand slipped lower to catch the hem of her gown and warm fingers trailed up her calf and over her knee, pulling up her satiny gown as he went, until her whole leg was exposed.

  “If you had any idea what I want t
o do to you, you would be stopping me. Without hesitation.”

  “You’re wrong. I do know.”

  After a moment of surprise, he shook his head and laughed. “Madame Faberge again I suppose.”

  “Yes. She told us that when a man, the right man, touches you between your legs, it feels like heaven. I want to know what heaven feels like.”

  “Oh, little one. Heaven is touching any part of you.” Long fingers stroked softly over the outside of her undergarments. Close to the centre where she ached for it, yet not quite reaching the source of heat ignited in her body. “Heaven is here.”

  One finger found the opening in her drawers and intruded slightly. She moved forward with an impatient wiggle until the tip of his finger nestled in the opening to her swollen passage. Not enough. Oh, not nearly enough.

  The books had shown her where on her body it happened, but not the rush of sensation that had her shuddering in seconds as his hard tip rotated gently, back and forth. She felt hot and swollen, restless in her desperate need for relief. The plunge of his finger into the deeper recesses of her heat nearly caused her to swoon across the strong arm that still held her firmly to the papered wall.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just let yourself go.”

  She grunted, and then said, “If I let myself go any more, I’ll be a puddle at your feet. Perhaps you’d better position me someplace else.”

  “Are you giving me orders on how to seduce you?”

  Bending his head to her chest, he started to laugh. “You’re probably analysing the situation, using your mathematical skills to calculate the best position for me to put you in.”

  Realising that the rumblings and shaking coming from her chest were he and not she, she grabbed his hair and lifted his head to meet her at eye level.

  “Oh, really. This is too much. Serious minded Cayle St. Martin finally lets himself go enough to laugh, really laugh, and it’s at my expense. When you have your … part of you … ”