by Amy Sandas
She watched his expression tense before he replied, “Once you are recovered, I will see you home.”
The cool finality of his words sent a jolt through her system.
Home.
What awaited her there? And after?
If by some miracle her involvement never made it to the gossips’ lips, she would eventually have to accept a proposal of marriage from one of her passionless suitors. She would become devoted to her husband, despite the fact that no one but the earl had ever made her feel such a wild rush of sensations. Had ever made her feel alive.
And if tonight’s events ultimately led to her ruin, she would receive no honorable offers, from passionless gentlemen or otherwise. She would become a spinster and live out the rest of her days a virgin, destitute from the lack of funds a good marriage would provide.
Either way, she would be forever unknowing.
Resistance claimed her. She could not accept such an end.
She had often imagined what it would feel like to be the object of a worthy man’s passion. To experience that physical yearning for another person, which all the heroines in her books led her to believe could be real. She had never been so close to those imaginings becoming a reality as she was when she looked into Lord Harte’s eyes.
How would it feel to have such a man state passionately that he intended to have her as his own, despite his honor and her reputation, despite whatever good intentions he may have had? How would it feel to know that even if she did end up recognized and ruined, she wouldn’t be doomed to a desperate, penniless life, never having known what it felt like to be so consumed? Lily had never held any power, and she never would again—but she did now, in this, if she were only willing to take her own gamble.
Overwhelmed—and shocked—by what she was honestly contemplating, she dipped her chin to stare at the glass she cradled in her lap. But only for a moment. She did not want to risk losing this urging inside her.
From the moment she had been snatched off the street and tossed to the floor of Hale’s carriage, her life had been inexorably set along a new course. This evening had taken her through a whirlwind of emotions: fear, confusion, uncertainty, longing, despair, and disappointment. And had brought her to this moment of breathless anticipation.
Lily did not have Emma’s confidence or Portia’s audacity. But perhaps she did not have to live vicariously through her sisters or her novels. Perhaps she had just enough courage. She would never be able to forgive herself if she did not at least try.
With a small toss of her head to clear the wisps of hair that had fallen against her face, she looked up again to meet his hard gaze. “What if you did not?” she asked, her tone strong and clear.
His body tensed. His hands curled into tight fists on his thighs. When he spoke, his voice was low and fiercely controlled. “Did not what?”
“What if you did not take me home?” she clarified. “At least…not right away.”
Lily’s heart raced. She had never been more terrified in her life.
But it was a beautiful, exhilarating sort of terror as she waited for him to understand what she was asking. Her entire body felt tight, as though every part of her held its breath in wait for his response.
“Miss Chadwick.” The earl’s voice was low and heavy. “Do you know what you are saying?”
A tremor ran through her. Her mouth went dry even as her palms began to sweat. “I believe I do.”
His eyes burned black in the darkness, but he said nothing more.
She dropped her gaze briefly to where his hands fisted and extended in a rhythm already becoming familiar to her.
“Lord Harte.”
“Yes, Miss Chadwick.” The melted warmth of his voice sent shivers of anticipation across her skin.
There was no going back.
“I would like for you to claim me,” she said softly.
Nine
Every nerve ending in Avenell’s body sparked with life. Sensations skittered across his skin in varying degrees of intensity. His fingers curled into fists so tight it made the muscles of his forearms cramp.
Her gaze had been locked with his, but now it fell again to watch his hands as he forced them to relax. Just that slightest bit of her attention sent liquid fire through his veins, and he wondered what it would feel like for her to watch him while he placed his hands on her body.
To let her touch him in return…
His skin buzzed violently at the thought.
Since first laying eyes on Miss Chadwick, he had been disturbed by his fierce attraction. She had gotten into his blood. The very depths of him. This girl who stared at him so candidly and made him yearn for the slide of her fingers over his skin despite what he knew would follow.
This gentle young woman who told him so guilelessly that she wanted him to claim her.
His hands fisted again, and he clenched his teeth.
Dear God, he had never wanted anything so much in his life, but he knew intimately the challenge such a thing presented. Simply wanting something did not make the impossible possible.
Despite the intensity of his attraction to her, he’d never intended to have this woman in his bed. He would have gone on indefinitely avoiding her, denying his attraction forever if necessary. But the idea of her falling into the hands of one of the others present at Pendragon’s had been inconceivable. A few hours ago, his only thought had been to get her out of the brothel. He had not considered the ramifications of bringing her to his town house, had only wanted to get her someplace safe while the effects of the drug left her system.
He would have left her to sleep fully clothed, but the wrinkled and disheveled state of her clothing stood as stark evidence of what she had endured. Her gown needed pressing, and the rigidity of her confining stays convinced him she would be more comfortable without them.
He had stripped away her clothes himself. He was no stranger to the female body, but the vulnerability inherent in her innocent form as the shadows of her figure were revealed through the thin material of her shift had struck him acutely. Desire had burgeoned beneath his skin until he recalled that it very easily could have been another man stripping her at that moment and for another reason altogether.
Fury had tempered the lust in his blood.
He had left her there, her thick brown hair spreading out over his pillows, while he had retreated to the silent sanctuary of his study. He had not returned to his bedroom until a couple of hours had passed and he could be certain of his physical reactions. When he had walked through the door to find her awake, the sight of her thinly clad body and the way her gray eyes met his with stunned disbelief had brought to mind only one stark thought.
She belonged to him.
He had felt the truth of it down to his marrow.
Just as he had known he would never claim her.
I would like for you to claim me.
Desire flared hot beneath his skin, making him burn.
Avenell had learned a great deal from Pendragon about managing his reactions while in society so no one would suspect his aversion to even the briefest touch. And as she had promised him when he first came to her, he also learned all the ways a man could touch a woman—pleasure a woman.
What Lily Chadwick had just suggested was something else entirely.
She waited for his response.
The gentle directness of her stare suggested deeply hidden strengths the likes of which Avenell was desperate to explore. He was suddenly filled with a powerful sense of anticipation, a primal desire to possess.
Could he take this girl as his own? Claim her? Pleasure her in all the ways he had imagined doing from the first time he had seen her staring so opening across the ballroom?
Could he take it further?
He imagined what it might feel like to have her soft eyes watching the path of her hands as she caresse
d his body. His skin lit with sensations akin to pain but that were at the same time so very different. It was an unfamiliar intensity—a sharp longing for something he had never expected to have.
He took a steadying breath, and when he spoke, his words sounded harsher and colder than he had intended. “You want me to…claim you.” He felt compelled to understand. “Why?”
He had noticed before that when he spoke, her eyes would widen fractionally in an involuntary reaction to the sound of his voice. He saw the reaction again, and it fanned the flames already growing inside him.
He sensed something hidden behind her gaze, something he couldn’t quite access as she stared at him. Her quiet focus was like a tether of white lightning connecting them, and he realized as he watched the shadows move through her quiet gaze that she revealed only a portion of what went on beneath the surface.
This woman had secrets.
That, at least, was something he understood quite well.
After a moment, she lowered her chin and gave a subtle shrug. The gesture was innocent enough, but it shifted the bedcovering partially covering her near-naked form, causing it to reveal one thinly clad breast and the luxurious curve of her hip and thigh.
Avenell soaked in the sight of her. Heat blasted through him.
She took a long breath before she lifted her gaze again. As their eyes met, he did nothing to hide the dark yearning. Even though he knew his desire must be reflected in his eyes, she did not glance away. He might have suspected she did not understand the full depth of his hunger for her, if not for the way her breath became shallow and swift through her parted lips and the pulse at the base of her throat fluttered.
“That is why, my lord,” she answered in a husky whisper. “When you look at me like that I feel…alive inside. It makes me desperate to know what else I might feel if…”
“If I touched you,” Avenell murmured when she did not finish her thought.
Her eyes widened again, the gray rings narrowing as her pupils dilated.
“Yes.” Her reply was issued on a sigh before she licked her lips and continued. “Am I wrong in believing you feel something of the same nature for me?”
His palms buzzed at the thought of sliding them over her skin. The hunger would not be easily appeased. It would come with its own challenges.
Challenges that would take time and patience. She would not understand…
“You are not mistaken,” he replied in a tone far more raw than he expected. He cleared his throat. “Miss Chadwick, I cannot agree to your request.”
Her body tensed at his reply. Her embarrassment was evident in the heightened color in her cheeks and the way her eyelashes fluttered as though she wished to look away.
Avenell forcefully held her gaze with his, demanding she see the truth.
“If I took you as my own, one night would not be nearly enough.”
Her gray eyes darkened, and her voice was a thick murmur. “Then take more.”
There was no hesitation in her reply, no coy flirtation. The words were a perfect blend of plea and command. Just as her manner was equal parts vulnerability and strength, courage and beauty.
Avenell’s chest tightened with a feeling he could not identify. He could do nothing beyond acknowledging it was something more than lust and so much more than the desire to possess. He was helpless to resist the sensation as it traveled through his bloodstream, leaving him in a state of heightened anticipation.
There were so many reasons to refuse her.
Lily Chadwick was meant to be a noble gentleman’s wife, not the lover of a damaged man.
He studied the woman seated on his bed. Her brunette hair fell in soft waves down to her hips, and her skin was nearly luminescent beneath the thin material of her shift. Her focus never wavered from him as she waited with parted lips and bated breath for his response.
She was temptation incarnate.
His body tensed painfully at the thought of making her his.
He had never wanted anything more.
He forced his tense jaw to relax as he took a steadying breath. “Miss Chadwick, are you offering to become my mistress?”
* * *
His mistress.
The idea triggered a wealth of feelings in Lily. Excitement, desire, a twinge of uncertainty, and an exhilarating kind of fear.
Strange how the word resonated so deeply.
Mistress.
She knew she was staring at him wide-eyed and breathless. She suspected she looked nothing at all like a mistress. She had always assumed the ladies who held such positions to be sophisticated and confident. Alluring.
She was none of those things.
But she wanted to be.
When she did not reply, he lowered his chin, and his expression seemed to harden even more.
“I have never kept a mistress,” he stated simply, his voice deep and intimate. “I am not an easy man to get along with. Relationships of a personal nature have always been difficult for me.”
Lily did not speak. There was something in his manner that reached a deep place inside her. As though he was sharing a long-held secret he had never revealed to anyone else. She waited, still and silent, for him to continue.
“If you were to claim such a position”—he paused again, just long enough for his gaze to flicker over her body, making her skin heat instantly, before his eyes met and held hers again—“your time, your body, your every gasp and sigh would be mine to exploit and command. You would belong to me, Miss Chadwick, and only me, for as long as I wanted you. Is this what you are offering? You would give yourself to me completely?”
He was trying to shock her, perhaps frighten her a little.
But everything he said only made her blood run faster.
Yes. She wanted all of those things. With him.
She had no guarantee that her name was not already being tossed about town on the waves of scandal. Her sisters would be drowned in social ruin along with her. Their whole family would be disgraced. All opportunity to reverse the damage their father had wrought would be crushed by the first whisper of Lily’s presence at a brothel.
Even if Pendragon’s rules managed to stem the tide of gossip, Lily would always be wondering, fearful of the day the truth would come out and she would be unable to protect her sisters from the devastation of scandal.
But a man like the earl certainly possessed the type of influence to prevent the events of last night from becoming common knowledge. As his mistress, she would be under his protection.
It was truly stunning how swiftly the course of one’s life could change. With her decision made, a new boldness breathed life into her—a whisper of power and sensuality that left her wanting more.
He waited for her response, his expression stony, his body taut and unmoving. Aloof and unapproachable. But that was not all there was to see. Lily’s heart tripped dangerously at the subtleties she detected in him.
His eyes sparked with white heat. The seething tension in his expression—in his entire body—sent a wave of powerful sensations through her. A familiar thrill raced along her nerves as she resisted a fierce urge to stand and go to him.
She knew what she wanted.
She wanted to be his lover. For reasons far more personal than for the protection and security of her family. Though she need not admit as much.
“Yes, my lord, I wish to be your mistress,” she said softly.
An unholy light flashed in the depths of his eyes, and Lily’s heart skipped several beats. For just a split second she felt a moment of the apprehension he had tried to inspire in her.
“On one condition,” she added. “Our arrangement must be held secret. And if you are to become my…protector, I will need your help in keeping the events of tonight from becoming known among the ton. I cannot have my family harmed by my…change in circumstances.”<
br />
He was silent for a long moment. To the point that Lily worried he may not accept her terms. But when he finally spoke, she realized he had been considering what it would take to accommodate her wishes.
“As I said earlier, the discretion of the others present at the auction is likely assured. But if I am to be thorough, I must know how you came to be at Pendragon’s in the first place.”
The urge to hold her tongue was stronger than Lily expected. It had been a long time that the Chadwick sisters, each in their own way, had had to look out for one another. Portia had been so right when she had once declared that keeping secrets was a family trait. To reveal the vulnerability they had been so determined to protect went against the grain.
The earl lowered his chin. “It will be vital as we go along, Miss Chadwick, that you learn to trust me. I cannot shield you from threats if I do not know what they are.”
It was a delicate risk to put her faith in him, but he was right.
“My family owed a significant debt to a man named Mason Hale. I understand last night was his way of collecting.”
“How much was the debt?”
Lily swallowed. Despite everything, there may still be a reason to fear Hale. What if he had not gotten the full amount from Pendragon?
“How much?” the earl prompted.
“Ten thousand pounds,” Lily muttered thickly.
He gave a low harrumph. “Though I am sure Hale was more than compensated for his trouble, I will pay the man a visit to ensure he is no longer a concern. Will that do?”
Lily nodded past her astonishment. He had barely blinked at the amount. Just how much had he bid for her?
“We have an agreement?” he asked, his voice lowering.
Hot sparks rained through her. “Yes.”
Nothing changed in his expression. He continued to stare at her with a gleam in his eyes and an unforgiving angle to his jaw.
Then she saw the barely perceptible curve of his mouth—a shadow of a smile—and she wondered if he might be the demon Lady Anne had claimed him to be after all.
