by Heather Boyd
“Oralia,” Grayling said, “do make Mrs. Cohen aware that Calista has earned the rest of her wager from last night.”
With the promise of pretty things in her future and a message from a patron to deliver, Oralia bounced out of the room with a decided spring in her step.
Grayling scowled. “She should be at home under the watchful eyes of her parents.”
Meredith heaved a heavy sigh as she listened to Oralia’s running steps. “That would prove difficult as they were the ones who tossed her out like kitchen scraps.”
Grayling patted the cushion beside him. “She was seduced, I take it.”
Meredith shook her head and remained where she was, remembering the terrible state in which the young girl had arrived. Every door had been slammed in her face. “Raped, by several village boys. Her parents couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.”
Grayling shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Is that what happened to you?”
“No,” she said flatly and moved to refill his glass. She struggled to keep her voice level and devoid of resentment. “But situations like Oralia found herself in happen all the time. Luckily, Linnie came across her soon after the incident and brought her here. I’m proud of her progress. At first, she wouldn’t even glance at the footmen without shaking.”
“No tremble in her hands when she touched me,” he told her.
Meredith raised a brow. “I noticed that.”
“And I noticed you watching and pretending not to.” He placed his glass on a nearby table. “What game are you playing now? Are you bored with me already?”
“No,” she answered truthfully. But his question made her uncomfortable. In fact, she feared herself in danger of making a superior fool of herself. She shrugged, hoping the gesture conveyed a practical response rather than an emotional one. “But if you’d have shown the least bit of interest in Oralia, I would have left the room.”
He pressed his lips together firmly, sucked in a breath, and when he let it go he held out his hand. “Come here,” he said softly, a hint of steel in his voice. The same tone he’d used last night in bed. She trembled because that voice had the power to make her forget everything but pleasing him.
Meredith slowly moved closer and then let out a small shriek as Grayling tugged her onto his lap. His hand covered her breast. “Not one bit of interest. The only woman I want today is in my arms right now.”
He kissed her lips, sucking gently on the lower one before a growl left his chest. “Don’t ever do that again. I’m not a plaything for your associates.”
Despite the warnings in her head, Meredith threaded her arms around his neck and clung to the dangerously tempting lord. “No?”
“No.”
Before she realized what had happened, she was flat on her back beneath him. She blinked up into his frowning face.
He brushed his warm fingers over her cold cheeks. “Do you never stay warm?”
It was impossible to shrug in this position, so she settled for wrapping her arms around his waist, beneath his coat, soaking in his remarkable body heat. “I’ve always been susceptible to chill.”
He fingered her thin gown. “This isn’t sufficient. Come, I have gifts for you.”
“Where?”
“Wherever the footman took the parcels. I imagine a single question will be sufficient to locate them.” He stood. “Although, seeing you like this has given me other ideas for the afternoon.”
With a decidedly wicked grin, Meredith smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. “I hadn’t expected you so early.”
He shrugged. “My daughters have gone to stay with the friend I mentioned for a few days and I had nothing else pressing to do for the estate. I thought to spend the night with you again, if you are agreeable.”
A small bubble of happiness crowded her lungs, making speech impossible for a time. Eventually she convinced herself she was overreacting to the news and hurried into the hall. A footman loitered nearby. “William?”
“His Lordship’s gifts were taken upstairs. Mrs. Cohen felt the room you used last night would suit today as well.”
A deep, rumbling laugh echoed behind her as she made her way upstairs. Each step toward that large bed brought fresh doubts about further association with Grayling. She might just be in danger of truly liking him.
At the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Gray’s attention was fixed on her rear. As she crossed the threshold, she made sure to sway her hips in an exaggerated fashion. He laughed again and slammed the door shut behind them before hurrying to toss more fuel on the fire to drive the chill from room.
The bed was covered in brown-wrapped parcels. One even had a pretty pink bow. Puzzled, she pulled on the ribbon to open it. A white fur wrap spilled out and she gasped at the extravagant gift. She’d expected another sheer dress to replace the one he’d destroyed, not a garment suitable for the outdoors. She peeked at him as he settled on the far side of the bed. His gifts were rather lavish given they’d only met twenty hours ago. Unable to resist, she pulled the fur against her cheek, feeling the rich warmth drive the chill from her skin. “However did you manage this?”
“I had a word to the abbess before I left this morning. She was kind enough to give me directions to your modiste. I confess, I may have gotten carried away, but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing you should be warm in my absence.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Not yet.”
Meredith glanced at the other parcels and, feeling as if the best Christmas ever had come early, quickly unwrapped them all. Grayling had replaced her torn gown with a blue velvet carriage dress complete with stiff, high ruff, provided a matching deep muff to the wrap, and a completely practical pair of half boots. “I appreciate the gifts, but why should you do such a thing?”
He glanced away to the fire. “Do you not like them?”
“I love them, but it’s not fair to accept so much on such short acquaintance.”
He rose and moved to stand behind her. “Yes, you can, because I intend to get to know you very well indeed.”
He undid the first button on her day gown and continued until she was standing in only a shift and corset, shivering. Yet instead of the ravishment she expected, he dropped the new gown over her head. The heavy velvet warmed her instantly. The higher neckline caressed her upper back and drove away her chills. The gown wouldn’t be suitable to greet visitors to the House, but it was such a lovely shade of blue that she wanted to wear it every day.
She spun in a slow circle to show him how she looked. “Thank you.”
“Thank your modiste. Woman was only too pleased to help. She said you were her favorite.”
Meredith smiled, but wariness filled her. She hoped the woman had not mentioned that when they’d first met, Meredith had gone by another name. Grayling didn’t need to know more than one. Better to turn the subject from herself and back to him. “You mentioned you have children.”
“Yes, three daughters.”
She glanced at him, curious about their ages. They must be very young, or Grayling held his age extremely well. Did she need to know of his life away from the House? Uncertainty filled her. If he had children, then he had a wife somewhere. Meredith didn’t need to know more than that.
His brow rose. “You have questions?”
“No. I just wanted to thank you again for the gifts. You are a very generous man.”
He seemed about to say something but then shrugged his broad shoulders before stretching out on the bare portion of the bed. Meredith quickly moved her new possessions to a chair, shook out her old gown, and laid it on top. When everything was tidy again, she came to stand beside the bed.
Grayling had closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He looked sweet, not like the devil lover of last night. Meredith carefully climbed onto the bed and straddled his thighs. He cracked open an eye. The green sparkled with mirth. “Do you know one of the things that impresses me most about you? Your ability to read my mind. I was jus
t thinking it would be nice to have your tidy little body draped across mine, and here you are. Tempting me to ruin another gown.”
Meredith pressed her hand over the bodice. “Please don’t.”
He sat up, curling his arms possessively around her back. “Well, since you said please, I’ll have to be content to burrow beneath it.” His fingers skimmed up her leg. “Hmm, definitely warmer now.” He leaned close to her ear. “I do enjoy making you hot for me.”
He caught her gaze in his and she saw humor in his eyes. After a moment, she dug into his coat pocket to retrieve his condom. He sucked in a breath as she eased back from his lap. The large bulge beneath his trousers awaited her touch. Meredith slowly unbuttoned his trousers, peeking at him several times from beneath her lashes. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as she took him in hand, and when she had affixed the condom to his length, he groaned loudly.
Meredith shifted position and, without preamble, slowly lowered herself onto his length. The sensations were not as pleasant as a bare man, but if he still brought the condom when he came to her, he must be serious about its use. When he was fully seated, he slipped his hand beneath her gown. She lifted slightly and his hand worked between them, clamped on his length, and kept the condom in place.
In most circumstances, the things were next to useless, often slipping free and becoming lodged inside the woman. With Grayling holding the base, however, slippage shouldn’t be a problem. Meredith rode him carefully, rising and falling to build his enjoyment. He bit his lip again and she hoped he would not take long. Meredith found little pleasure with the condom between them.
“Devil take it, woman! Exactly what I need.”
He clutched her to him with one hand and groaned against the skin of her neck. He shook in her arms and she cuddled him close, loving the control she had over him and planning his next surrender. She did love a man who didn’t mind expressing his desires out loud. That made her job as simple and as good as it could be.
CHAPTER 6
THE PATTER OF small scurrying slippers on tile greeted Constantine as he stepped into the conservatory at Stanton Harold Hall, chasing the location of his family. The indulgent soaking bath and a change of clothes had made him more presentable, but he was well aware he’d lost many valuable working hours today because he’d tarried overlong elsewhere.
He glanced about for his daughters among the shrubbery and his breath caught in his throat. Augusta? His wife stood bathed in bright sunlight in the conservatory she loved so much, hand raised to cup a flower close to her face as she inhaled. Her pale hair was twined about her head in elegant curls as if she was on her way to a party or fete and waiting for him to join her. A fierce pain pierced his chest and he swayed toward her, wishing to touch her.
Her head turned and instead of the fine patrician nose he remembered and loved, he glimpsed a Roman one that belonged on another woman’s face. He shook his head to clear the vision and return to his reality. His wife was dead. He’d killed Augusta.
When he looked again, he saw it was Arabella, Lady Farnsworth, come to call.
She turned a puzzled gaze in his direction. “I was just beginning to doubt you’d return, Grayling,” she murmured quietly.
He hurried down the shallow steps to greet her properly, glancing about for his children. When he couldn’t see them immediately, he gave her his full attention. “A delay. Forgive me. I’d have hurried if I’d known you were here and waiting.”
She dipped an elegant curtsy to his bow and the longing for his wife faded to one of regret. Lady Farnsworth wasn’t much like his wife save for the color of her hair and her slender height.
“I forgive you, especially when you appear in such good health,” Arabella whispered as she glanced about the room. “Twenty. Here I come.”
She held her finger to her lips and began to creep about the conservatory. “Found you,” she cried as she pounced behind a potted palm.
His middle daughter, Maisy, giggled and glanced at him shyly before ducking down again. Arabella continued to creep about, and Constantine grinned. He’d stumbled into a game of hide-and-seek and had now to wait for its completion.
He eased closer to Maisy. “Good morning, Mischief.”
At four, Maisy didn’t understand what he meant, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cause him considerable worry for the future. Maisy was always up to something she shouldn’t be, hence the nickname his wife had bestowed on her when she’d first started to move about, most often disappearing beneath the furniture. As usual, his daughter remained apart, hidden from view behind the potted plant.
He sighed and took a seat rather than press the issue of the lack of greeting. He just couldn’t seem to gain her affection. Perhaps they blamed him for taking their mother away. His wife had been their whole world and he an interloper who stole her from them. His children showed their sadness in different ways.
When Arabella found his eldest daughter, she dragged Willow across the room by the hand and pressed her into the spot beside him. Not a giggle, greeting, or protest passed her lips. His eldest daughter had gradually fallen silent since her mother’s passing. Constantine was well beyond worried about that. Arabella could only suggest patience.
She smiled across at him. “There now. That’s a pretty picture.”
“It is,” he agreed, his gaze straying toward the potted plant Maisy still hid behind. She wasn’t a silent creature. She just tended to disappear when he wasn’t looking. “What other fun have you been having today, ladies?”
Arabella gestured to Willow. “Oh, lots of things. Willow can tell you all about it, I’m sure.”
Willow remained silent, however, unwilling or unable to fill the gap with chatter. The girl’s silence wasn’t unusual. He just hoped she grew out of it soon.
Arabella glanced at where Maisy hid, a deep sigh passing her lips at his children’s difficult natures. “Willow, darling, would you be a treasure and collect your sister so you can return to the nursery for tea with little Poppy? I’ll come and see you all again before I go home. I promise.”
Released from the necessity of sitting beside him, Willow obediently crossed to Maisy, grabbed her by the hand, and hauled her from the room without a backward glance. Their lack of ease around him wasn’t something he could change. “Were they good for you?”
“They are always good for me because I do not demand they behave like perfect ladies. You know my opinions on that. Little girls need some freedom.” Despite her words, Arabella pressed her hand to her brow and rubbed her temple.
“But they have worn you out?” Gray sat forward, hands on his knees. “Then you should be unhappy to know their last governess up and quit on me yesterday.”
“I heard and am glad to see her gone. She never played with them at all.” Arabella kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet beneath her as she had done countless times since he’d known her. Arabella wasn’t one to adhere to the rules of proper conduct when she didn’t believe it necessary or when no one was looking. Her lack of decorum made her a comfortable companion for a heartbroken man. “Have you placed an advertisement for her replacement?”
“That is my intention for this morning.”
Her brow rose and a mocking smile twisted her lips. “Grayling, it’s three in the afternoon. Where exactly have you been? When I arrived, Old Cunningham wouldn’t even look at me to say he couldn’t tell me of your expected return.”
An uncomfortable flush swept over his skin. His nights of pleasure had extended far into the mornings after. To his considerable surprise, he had not been able to stop touching the fetching Calista as the sun rose. He had enjoyed another morning romp, feeding Calista breakfast from his own fingers before making love one more time. The fact that he’d lost his inhibitions so easily was a relief. Making love to Calista up to five times a night and snatching sleep between had been quite the surprise. As a consequence, his poor overused prick was rather uncomfortable now, nestled as it was in his snug, fitted trousers.
The condom wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, yet he’d never experienced more enjoyable nights. He planned for them to continue and had paid plenty to ensure Calista was his alone.
Arabella swung her feet to the tile floor and peered at him. “You’ve met someone?”
He braved the likely rebuke and nodded. Constantine didn’t want to keep secrets from his friend. She’d done so much to help him over the preceding two years that he didn’t believe he’d like her to hear about his visit to a bawdy house from spiteful gossips.
Instead of a shocked, disapproving silence, Arabella clapped her hands together and grinned wickedly. “Do tell, who is she and when can I meet her?”
Constantine gaped. He’d expected outrage. Given he’d caught Arabella discouraging other unattached and available female guests at the last hunt from pursuing him, he was rather baffled. Had she simply meant to keep him from choosing from one of their number? He’d thought her interference was because she was against the idea of him finding Augusta’s replacement. “You’re not angry with me?”
She laughed heartily, a throaty sound that made him at once at ease and on edge. “Why should I be? You’re a handsome man. Any woman would be proud to be yours.”
He frowned. “Any woman?”
“Well, any woman besides myself and the ladies of your prior acquaintance.” She shrugged. “We’d never make you happy.”
“Ah,” he said. But in all honesty he didn’t understand why she thought as she did. Arabella was born the daughter of an earl, young and widowed, with startling good looks and abundant exuberance for life and society. He simply couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t looked for another husband. She’d had ample opportunities and interest.
Even he’d considered Arabella as a candidate for a lover briefly or even a second wife. She was fond of his children, and he found her intelligence attractive. However, after the first night with Calista, he wasn’t finding the idea of pursuing Arabella or anyone else in the least interesting or pressing anymore. One day he’d consider the matter again. But not yet.
