The Price of Pleasure

by Connie Mason

  Reed strode away, barely able to contain his anger. If Fleur wished to accept another man’s addresses, it shouldn’t concern him. Except that it did. Fleur could be flirting with danger. Dubois could be a French agent with an agenda. Did she know she was putting herself at risk? He suspected she did, and that made him even angrier.

  Dubois was not a stupid man. His questions about Fleur worried Reed. What was she up to? Was she delving too deeply into the Frenchmen’s activities?

  When Reed arrived home, Hughes handed him a note from Grandmamma. It was an invitation to attend a family dinner the following night. As he passed the parlor, Helen poked her head out.

  “There you are, Reed. Did you receive Grandmamma’s invitation?”

  “Hughes handed it to me the moment I entered the house. How did you know it was from Grandmamma?”

  “Violet and I were also invited. You’ll escort us, of course.”

  Reed had reached the limit of his patience. “I’m afraid not, Helen. I have a previous engagement. I’ll write my regrets to Grandmamma immediately and send it off with a footman. Do enjoy yourselves.”

  “You have to go!” Helen scolded. “Violet is counting on you.”

  “I’m sorry, Helen, but I don’t exist solely to be at your beck and call.”

  “Did you know Fleur moved to the townhouse this afternoon?” Violet said.

  Reed went still. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. “I thought she was moving tomorrow.”

  “She changed her mind.”

  He spun on his heel. “Have a nice evening, ladies.”

  “If you refuse to accompany us, I shall summon Gal-lard,” Helen called after him. “He is family, after all.”

  “Give him my regards,” Reed drawled.

  Reed hated to disappoint Grandmamma, but he didn’t enjoy being forced to squire Violet about. He was aware of her expectations where he was concerned and had no intention of being leg-shackled to her.

  Reed left the house, arriving at Crocket’s shortly after nine that evening. Tolland saw him enter and waved to him. Reed headed in his direction. The room was crowded and reeked of cigar smoke, unwashed flesh and strong perfume. The combination of smells made Reed gag. Why hadn’t it ever bothered him before? Even worse, Reed felt as if the walls were closing in on him. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Panic seized him, forcing him into that dark hell where pain and death reigned. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he began gasping for air as his demons threatened to emerge.

  “I say, are you all right, Hunthurst?” Tolland asked. “You don’t look quite the thing.”

  Reed closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. But when he opened them, nothing had changed. He was in hell.

  “Forgive me, Tolland,” Reed choked out, “but I must leave. I find I am unwell.”

  “Shall I accompany you home?”

  “No, do not let me interfere with your evening. We will do this another time.” So saying, he stumbled from the gambling hell.

  Reed leaned against the building, dragging in deep, sustaining breaths. Why now? Why here? His sudden plunges into the dark abyss inside him had been sporadic since his return from France. What had triggered the panic attack this time? The answer came to him in a rush of enlightenment. Fleur had left him. She was no longer available to make his demons disappear.

  Everyone was abed when Reed returned home. He retired immediately, pausing in the foyer to tell Hughes he didn’t wish to be disturbed. The darkness was still upon him when he sought his bed.

  Then the dreams came. He dreamed of beatings that continued long after he lost consciousness. Of being starved, of begging for water. Dreams of watching his fellow prisoners dying around him and being buried beyond the prison walls in unmarked graves.

  Numbing coldness turned his limbs to lead. He fought against the returning horror. Bedclothes twisted around him like invisible manacles, hindering his movements. He refused to scream, bracing himself against the imaginary bite of the lash.

  Reed jerked awake, fighting the sheets binding him to the bed. His nightmare had seemed so real, he could actually feel the pain left by another beating. Panting, he rolled out of bed. He hadn’t had a nightmare like this in a long time.

  He had to escape from the horror.

  Reed leaped out of bed. With shaking hands, he dressed in the dark. He was out the door as the hall clock struck two. He hesitated. Where in bloody hell was he going to go at this time of night? Anywhere, he thought. Anywhere to escape the demons plaguing him.

  Reed crept down the stairs and let himself out, closing the door behind him. The cool night air helped clear his head but did nothing to ease his tumultuous thoughts. Though he had no destination in mind, he walked with purpose in the light rain that had begun to fall.

  Wet and shivering, Reed walked aimlessly. When he looked up to get his bearings, he was startled to find himself standing outside his townhouse, where Fleur slept snugly in her bed.

  Without conscious thought, he reached in his pocket and found the key to the front door. Indecision rode him, but need won out. He climbed the stairs and fitted the key into the lock. The door opened noiselessly beneath his touch.

  He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He had to be insane to seek out a woman he couldn’t have. Insane or not, he pushed himself away from the door and slowly climbed the stairs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fleur awakened from a restless sleep, her heart pounding. She stared intently into the darkness, immediately sensing that she wasn’t alone. A sensual stillness pervaded the chamber, charging the very air she breathed.

  She recognized his scent, felt his soul reaching out to her. “Reed, is that you?”

  A light flared. He had struck a flint to the candle sitting on the nightstand. The moment she looked into his face she sensed his terror. Something was terribly wrong. He was pale, his clothing wet and disheveled.

  “Are you ill?” she asked, reaching out to him.

  He gripped her extended hand and squeezed. “Fleur.”

  His voice held a note of uncertainty. Was he running from something? Had someone tried to harm him again? His silver eyes were dark as storm clouds, his pupils dilated. A thick, unsettling tension emanated from him.

  “What happened?” Fleur asked. “Who let you into the house? Do you know what time it is?”

  He let out a shaky breath. “I accompanied a friend to a gambling hell tonight. The moment I entered the crowded hall, the walls began closing in on me. Though I tried to gain control, the madness claimed me and refused to let go. My mind, my soul, my body descended into hell. It was pure torment. Memories of pain and darkness overwhelmed me. It was like the time we were forced to hide in the crawl space beneath the cottage in France.”

  His words came out in a choked whisper. “How long will I be forced to live with fear? I fled into the night, but the horror followed me. Eventually I returned home, but that didn’t help. So I left the house and walked aimlessly in the rain. I didn’t intend to come here, but this is where I found myself.” He showed her the key he had used to let himself into the house. “I didn’t surrender all the keys to you.”

  “I thought you were beginning to recover from your ordeal at Devil’s Chateau.”

  “I thought so too. I even agreed to accompany my friend Viscount Tolland to Crocket’s for some gambling and . . . whatever else struck our fancy.”

  Fleur’s lips thinned. She knew exactly what “whatever else” meant. “Go on.”

  “I’d no sooner entered the stifling interior of Crocket’s when I began to panic. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

  “So you came here.”

  “I need you, Fleur. Don’t make me leave.”

  Fleur gazed into his eyes. The stormy gray mist had evaporated; twin silver orbs returned her gaze with an intensity that crackled in the air between them.

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  Fleur could tell he was more himself now. The holl
owness had left his eyes, and his jaw had relaxed. If she told him to leave, would he retreat to that dark place within him again? Who would help him if she asked him to leave? Besides, his clothing was damp from the rain, and his hair was wet and plastered to his head. Apparently he had left the house without a hat or coat.

  Rain now lashed against the windowpanes, and Fleur knew she couldn’t send Reed away in a drenching downpour. Did she even want to? On one hand she was touched that Reed had come to her during his hour of need, and on the other she wondered how he would cope when he wed a woman who didn’t know how to help him.

  “You’re wet,” Fleur said. “You’ll find a towel on the washstand. Dry your hair and take off those damp clothes.”

  Reed felt like an idiot. Showing his weakness to a woman was embarrassing. Only the knowledge that it was Fleur to whom he had bared his soul kept him from fleeing in shame. Would the woman he eventually wed run screaming from him the first time he retreated to his dark hell?

  Reed found the towel and dried his hair. Then he began shedding his damp clothes, spreading them over a bench to dry. Even his smallclothes were damp, so he took them off too. He glanced over at the bed. Now that the madness had passed, he knew what he wanted but wasn’t sure Fleur wanted the same thing. He needn’t have worried. Fleur pulled the covers aside and beckoned to him.

  “Come to bed before you freeze to death.”

  Suddenly Reed realized he was shivering. The fire had burned low, and the room held a definite chill. He had the presence of mind to throw some coal onto the dying flames before joining Fleur in bed.

  She came into his arms, and he brought her against him. She was naked; her nightgown lay where she had tossed it beside the bed. He stopped shivering immediately. The heat of her body sank deep into his bones. He breathed deeply. Her scent was both familiar and arousing.

  “This has to stop, Reed. I left Hunthurst so this wouldn’t happen. It isn’t right.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Reed murmured. “This seems right to me.”

  “Your grandmamma . . . ”

  “I live my life according to my own needs,” Reed replied. “Kiss me, my love. Chase away my fears. I need you.”

  “You don’t need me. Time has a way of healing tortured souls like yours.”

  “You’re not hearing me. I need you.”

  Lifting her chin, he kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers without regard for tenderness or reserve. He wanted to show her the passion that existed in his heart for her. The sudden surge of desire rose hot and needy and settled heavily in his groin. He went instantly hard, thrusting his hips flush against hers at the same time he plunged his tongue into her mouth.

  She answered with equal fervor, sucking him deeper, drawing him into the wet heat of her mouth. He groaned, the ragged sound ripped from his throat. His hands spanned her waist. She was lithe and pliant beneath his touch, inviting further exploration. Though he felt he knew her body well, there was always something new and exciting to discover: the tiny freckle on her thigh he had failed to notice before, the perfect turn of her hips he had always taken for granted.

  There was something special about Fleur that beckoned him, something indefinable but compelling. When he was with Fleur he became one with her in soul and body. Her touch healed his distraught mind and pierced through the darkness.

  “You’re mine, Fleur. Mine . . . mine . . . mine . . . ”

  Fleur wanted to deny his claim but knew in her heart that no man would ever move her as Reed did. Her whole body tightened as he lowered his head to suckle her right nipple. A deep primal moan escaped her lips as his fingers squeezed and pulled at her left nipple while suckling its mate. He laved and pulled until she cried out.

  While he continued to suckle her, his fingers slid downward into her curls, parted the lush petals of her sex and stroked the hidden bud with a slow rhythm that sent molten heat surging through her veins. She felt a gush of moisture leave her body and bathe his hand. She was wet, ready and breathlessly waiting to be claimed by the man she loved. Her arms tightened around him, her legs parted of their own accord.

  Her hand slid down his hip. She felt his staff harden against her thigh. Watching him closely, she moved her palm around to his inner thigh, then upward to his erection. A wildness broke in them both. Her hands were everywhere on him, touching, teasing, grasping. His mouth grazed over her body, tasting, suckling, taunting.

  One by one Reed cast off the demons that had plunged him into unreachable depths of despair. Fleur’s touch had freed him. Loving her was his salvation. Though her touch tortured him, it also brought him a measure of peace amidst the turmoil of clamoring hunger.

  He positioned himself over her, his weight on his arms and knees as he released some of his burgeoning passion in a hard kiss. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to taste more of her. His mouth left hers and took a downward path, pausing along the way to torment her with nipping little kisses that brought gasps and begging cries from her lips. When he reached the destination he sought, he lifted her legs to his shoulders and lost himself in the musky sweetness of her feminine heat. He swept his tongue over and around the tender, swollen bud nestling in her curls, then continued downward, parting the soft folds of her sex.

  He laved her ruthlessly, lovingly until she climaxed, releasing the passion he had built inside her.

  “Come inside me,” she gasped.

  Abandoning his succulent feast, he rose on his knees and stared down at her. She had never looked more beautiful. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her chocolate-brown eyes glazed with passion and her body rosy from his loving.

  He reached down to cup her sex, letting his thumb play across the little nub of her pleasure. Fleur sprang to life with renewed arousal. The tip of his manhood nudged her, jolting her passion up another notch as he surged forward to fill her.

  He continued to thrust; a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. His kisses fell like sweet rain on her face and breasts as he drove her over the edge again. Her pleasure crested, and she reached for the stars a second time.

  “Reed, come with me!”

  He shouted his pleasure, his back arching as he flooded her with his seed. Their cries merged as she went limp against the pillow and he collapsed on top of her. Her arms came around him for a brief moment of bliss and then fell away.

  His crushing weight lifted as he sagged to his side onto the mattress. Then he pulled her close, cradled her against him and promptly fell asleep.

  Sighing, Fleur savored the moment of closeness, aware that it wasn’t meant to last forever. She knew exactly what she needed to do and prayed for the strength to do what was right for both her and Reed.

  Fleur let Reed sleep till nearly dawn. Then she gently shook him awake. He opened his eyes, smiled and reached for her.

  She pushed him away. “No, Reed, it’s time for you to leave. The servants will be up and about soon.”

  Reed glanced out the window. Dawn’s gray fingers were peeling away the night. “There’s still time.” He reached for her again.

  “Peg will be here any minute to open the blinds and build up the fire.”

  Ignoring her protests, Reed turned onto his back, grasped her about the waist and flipped her on top of him. Seconds later he was inside her, rekindling the fires of her passion. She began to tremble all over, and her protests turned into sighs of rapture.

  Their coupling was fast and furious; she came in a blaze of soul-shattering ecstasy. Reed found his own pleasure a heartbeat later.

  “Now it’s time to go,” Reed said, still breathing heavily as he lifted her off him and climbed out of bed.

  Fleur watched as he poured water into a bowl and had a quick wash before gathering up his discarded clothing. She saw no sign of his former torment as he dressed and prepared to leave. Her heart skipped a beat when he glanced over at her and smiled. Then he returned to the bed, bent over and kissed her forehead. As he started to rise, Fleur clutched his sleeve with one hand a
nd held out the other, palm up.

  A frown gathered between Reed’s brows. Stiffening her resolve, Fleur said, “The key, Reed, give me the key.”

  Reed’s brows shot up. “Why?”

  “Because this is my house, and I pay the rent. I should be the one to choose who may or may not visit.”

  “Are you implying what I think you are?”

  “You can’t keep sneaking into my home in the middle of the night. I thought I made it clear that the intimacy between us ended when I moved from Hunthurst.”

  “You decided that, not I.”

  “Give me the key, Reed. As long as I’m available to you, you’ll never find a wife. Your grandmother deserves better than what we are doing to her. She wants to see grandchildren before she dies.”

  “Bloody hell!” Reed barked. “You enjoyed what we did as much as I. Why should we deny ourselves because of other people’s wishes? Marry me, Fleur. You’re the only one who makes me feel whole. Without you I am naught but a damaged soul.”

  Fleur felt herself shattering slowly from the inside. Why did life have to be so brutal? Why had fate turned against her? Being barren was her cross to bear; she would not share it with Reed, no matter how much she loved him.

  She gazed into his eyes and willed him to understand. Her palm still in an upward position, she repeated, “Give me the key, Reed. You just think you love me because I saved your life and nursed you back to health. You’ll know real love when you find it.”

  His sharp intake of breath nearly broke her heart. “Please don’t make this any harder for me. You know this is right, Reed. I didn’t turn you away last night because you needed me. You were lost and desperate, but you are a grown man, fully capable of destroying your own demons.”

  She knew her cruel words hurt him, but making Reed angry was the only way to end their intimate relationship.

  Anger was exactly what Fleur got. Reed’s lips flattened, storm clouds gathered in his eyes and the stark planes of his face grew sharp as rage and hurt consumed him. “How could you be so unfeeling? Have you no compassion? I bared my soul to you and you plunged a knife into it when I was most vulnerable.” He laughed harshly. “The ultimate price of pleasure is dismissal.”