The Love of a Libertine

by Jess Michaels

  She lifted her chin, and now it was she who peered closer, deeper. His trick, turned against him by a woman he had underestimated. She was quiet, but it was evident she was watching all the time, just as he did. Noticing while she remained unnoticed. Except by him.

  “For some men, I would say it was demon enough. But you seem to revel in the reputation of your family.”

  “Do I?” he asked. “Have I done so here?”

  “Well…no. You’ve been nothing but proper here. And yet I’ve heard talk. Rumor. You were brought here because of your wild side, weren’t you?”

  He shook his head slowly. Seemed his brother would talk, even if he pretended to want to help Morgan. He would poison this woman to him, perhaps her family, too.

  “I suppose I was,” he admitted.

  “And that never seems to trouble you. So I think your demon is something deeper.”

  He flinched. “You know so little, here in your ivory tower where your brother lets nothing touch you.”

  Now she turned her face and he saw a flash of desperate pain. She covered it, but there it had been, plain as the brightest sunny day.

  “And you know even less,” she muttered, and turned as if she would leave. “You owe me no explanation, Morgan—Mr. Banfield. I will leave you to whatever troubles you.”

  She took a step toward the door and he found himself lunging after her, reluctant to allow her to walk away. If she did, she would never come back. She’d convince herself to never, ever come back.

  “My mother was a courtesan,” he said, the words feeling heavy as they exited his lips.

  She pivoted to face him, her eyes wide. “I see.”

  “Everyone saw,” he spat. “She was one of the most celebrated women of her generation. A shining jewel in the crown of any man who paid for the benefit of her company. She was the best, and that is why the last Duke of Roseford wanted her so badly. To stake a claim on what everyone else desired.” He glanced at Elizabeth and those wide eyes. “You must think very little of a woman like her.”

  She drew back with a shake of her head. “No. I am not of that world, so it’s difficult for me to picture her life. But it’s not hard to imagine the choices she likely had to make. How a woman would end up in circumstances such as the one you describe and would make the best with what she had. You may think you see, but you don’t know me, Mr. Banfield. I would never judge her or any other person for what they did to survive.”

  He stared at her, shocked by the acceptance she offered. There were few of her rank who would do so. Even the men who had drooled all over his mother would have spat on her if she dared enter their hallowed halls. His father included.

  “I apologize for judging you,” he said softly. “I simply wouldn’t have assumed a lady of your background would take such a view.”

  She swiftly cast her glance away. “Demons, sir. You already spoke of them.” She didn’t allow him an opportunity to press her on that. “Is she still with us?”

  “My mother?” he asked, and his throat got suddenly dry. “No. She died six years ago.”

  Her expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.”

  “How?”

  “Consumption, they say,” he said with a shake of his head. “But it wasn’t that. She died of a broken heart, courtesy of my father. That man claimed things of beauty and then crushed them so no one else would get a chance to enjoy them. She was part of that. When he left her, she never recovered. I watched her wither for decades. His name was the last on her lips when she left this earth.”

  “Oh, Morgan,” she whispered, and now she moved closer again. The soft scent of her skin wafted up to tickle his nose as she closed her fingers around his forearm. Orange blossom.

  He stared down into that beautiful upturned face. “I learned a great deal from her,” he whispered. “To watch people. To read them. Those skills have kept me one step ahead a great many times. They’ve kept me safe.”

  Her lips parted slightly, and then she tightened her hand on his arm. “You are safe here.”

  “Am I?” he whispered, and he could no longer resist the desire to do something very foolish. Very dangerous. He reached out a hand and traced his fingers along the gentle line of her jaw. The need to touch her was just too powerful to deny. The need to take a tiny piece of this pure, lovely thing that he didn’t deserve.

  “Morgan,” she whispered, his name a warning and a prayer and a question all at once.

  He leaned in, the room blurring around them as all there was became her. He waited for her to step away, to tell him no. But she didn’t. She didn’t even as his breath stirred her lips.

  She didn’t when he claimed her mouth at last.

  Morgan was kissing her and it was…so, so lovely. She was mesmerized by the soft brush of his whiskers against her chin, the pressure of his firm lips, the faint taste of whiskey and mint that flowed into her as he parted his lips and traced the crease of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

  She opened. She knew how this dance was danced. But this was very different than it had been all those years ago. Or at least, she had remembered it differently.

  Aaron’s kisses had been insistent, wet, sometimes a little painful with their force. But Morgan…he was something different. He didn’t claim. He could have, of course. He was far bigger than she, far more experienced, despite her past. He could have had her on her back on the carpet without even losing breath if he wanted to.

  But he seemed in no hurry to do anything but just…taste her. That’s what he was doing, after all. Leisurely exploring her mouth with his tongue, swirling and sucking and washing her away on a very gentle current.

  She clung tighter to his forearms, trying to find purchase in the tide. The world was turning, burning, and there was an ache deep inside of her for something more. More and more of his mouth and his arms as they gently wrapped around her and molded her firmly against his chest. She felt the accelerating thud of his heartbeat echoing her own, felt the clench of his fingers against her spine as he let out a very soft sound of pleasure and deepened the kiss yet again.

  She was about to be lost. She felt it in every fiber of her being. If she didn’t pull away, she would end up making the same mistakes she had all those years ago. Worse mistakes because surely her brother wouldn’t forgive her again. Amelia would look at her with judgment, not love. Lizzie would destroy everything important if she let this happen.

  So she pressed her hands flat against his chest and pushed. To her surprise, he released her immediately, opening his arms as he stepped away to give her space and purchase.

  He said nothing, simply stared at her from that one long pace away, his expression utterly unreadable. She fought to regain her footing, gripping her hands at her sides as she struggled to slow her breath.

  “I-I can’t do this,” she panted at last.

  He nodded slowly. “Even if you want to.”

  She jerked her gaze to his and her cheeks heated. He knew she wanted to. A fact, not a question. He wasn’t wrong. “Especially if I want to,” she whispered. Then she straightened up and let out a long sigh. “I-I want you to know I’m not sorry it happened. It’s just that I…can’t.”

  “Very well,” he said. “Than I have just one important question for you.”

  “Wh-what is that?” she stammered. Her entire body tensed, waiting for whatever awful thing he would say now. What accusation he would lodge or threat he would make now that he had the upper hand over her.

  Except he didn’t go hard and cruel. He smiled at her.

  “How do you feel about piquet?” he asked.

  She blinked. “The…the card game?”

  “Yes. It’s a two-hand game, so we can play just us. And it will help pass the time we were both looking to fill since you no longer wish to do…” He waved a hand between them. “That.”

  Her lips parted. “You aren’t going to argue with me about that?”

  “Why should I?” he asked. “I v
astly enjoyed kissing you. You aren’t sorry we did it. You asked me to stop, so we did. There’s nothing more to say. Neither of us did something wrong, did we?”

  She hesitated. Kissing him should have felt wrong. But it didn’t. Pulling away had always felt wrong in the past, like she was wrong to refuse. But now it didn’t either. She was confused, but not guilty. “I-I suppose not.”

  “Then what stops us from playing a round of cards as friends?” he asked. “Unless you don’t wish to be friends with me.”

  She hadn’t considered that as a possibility, even though he’d mentioned it before. Morgan Banfield had been a confusion, a distraction, a frustration…but she’d never considered truly making him a friend. She rather liked the idea, really. Everyone else around her was part of a couple, in love and unable to imagine that anyone else had a different path. Why not be friends with this man? If his employment with her brother worked out, they would see each other a great deal. Why should it be awkward or uncomfortable?

  “Very well. I would like to be…friends.”

  “Excellent.” His grin was bright and genuine. “I will fetch a deck of cards. You see if you can find some buttons.”

  “Buttons?” she repeated in confusion.

  “To wager with,” he called out as he exited the room. “I do not trust you, my lady, and I do not wish to lose what little blunt I have left.”

  She stared at the door he’d just departed from, stunned into silence for a moment. But then she couldn’t help but laugh. And laugh she continued to do as she went to seek out the buttons for their game.

  Morgan leaned back in his chair with a chuckle as Elizabeth threw up her hands in defeat. “I’m terrible at this game,” she giggled.

  He grinned as he took in the cards and began to shuffle. “It’s because your face is too honest.”

  “My face is too honest?” she repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a game of trickery and deception,” he said. “And you always look so guilty when you lie. Meanwhile I am very charming and you believe everything I say.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head back and she laughed harder. Morgan stared while she was distracted. It had been a few hours since their kiss in this very room. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking of it.

  But he’d also enjoyed their time together. Elizabeth was kind and intelligent, she was witty and quick to laugh once she relaxed. She was, in short, everything lovely. And he liked her.

  She pointed at the pile of buttons before him. “I’m glad we didn’t play for real stakes, or I would have been stripped of my pin money.”

  He kept the smile on his face even though her words struck a bit closer to the bone than perhaps she knew. After all, he’d been stripped of more than pin money by gambling and carousing. And ended up here. Which suddenly didn’t seem so very bad.

  “Another round to try to win it back?” he teased.

  “My God, you are like a barker in the park.” She affected a deeper voice. “Step up and you’ll surely win this time, my lady!”

  “But surely you will, Elizabeth,” he said. “Don’t I look trustworthy?”

  “And what is going on here?”

  They both jumped at the voice at the library door. They got to their feet at the same time and Elizabeth pivoted to face the intruder. It was the Duke of Brighthollow, along with Donburrow and Robert. All three were staring at the scene before them. Brighthollow looked…concerned.

  “Hugh, gracious how late is it?” Elizabeth said as she stepped toward her brother. The guilt she hadn’t displayed after their kiss was written all over her face now.

  Morgan didn’t care for the expression.

  “Very late,” Brighthollow said with another glance at Morgan. “I’m surprised to find you up. The ladies retired when we returned. The gentlemen were going to have a quick drink before we joined them.”

  “Oh, I lost track of time,” Elizabeth said. “I should probably go up, as well.”

  She turned back to Morgan and met his eyes. She smiled, and for a moment all he could think about was the intoxicating peaches-and-cream taste of her mouth. The little sigh she’d made when he parted her lips with his tongue. The clench of her fingers against his arms as she reached out for more. Allowed him to take more.

  He blinked to clear his mind and returned the smile, though his own felt strained.

  “Good evening, Mr. Banfield,” she said. “Thank you for…for the company.”

  He inclined his head. “My lady.”

  She exited the room, and for a moment everything was silent. The Duke of Brighthollow stood in the door, staring at him, eyes narrowed. Then he cleared his throat. “I think I’ll forgo that drink, lads. I need to speak to Amelia about something before she falls asleep. Good night.”

  He pivoted on his heel and marched from the room without another word. Donburrow’s eyes went wide and he motioned his head toward the door. Robert nodded. Morgan sucked in a breath as he and his brother were left alone.

  He thought of what Elizabeth had said about his wild streak. He needed to speak to Robert about that. But he wasn’t up for it tonight, not when his entire body felt on edge thanks to Elizabeth. Thanks to his own poor judgment that he refused to regret.

  Robert pulled the door shut behind him and leaned back against it. He folded his arms. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Morgan bent and began gathering up the cards and buttons that proved his evening with Elizabeth. “I won at piquet,” he muttered.

  Robert slapped a hand back against the door, and Morgan jerked his gaze up to find his brother shaking his head at him. “What’s happening between you and Lizzie?” Robert clarified.

  Morgan sighed. “Nothing. We spent a little time together. Nothing more.”

  He expected his brother to rail at him, but Robert merely smiled. “Hmmm. I wonder how many times I said the same thing over the years. I was just spending time with her. It didn’t mean anything. None of it means anything. And then it does.”

  Morgan pursed his lips. “It’s vastly annoying to be the brother of a reformed rake, you know.”

  Robert snorted out a laugh and the tension in the room bled away a fraction. “Because I can read your intentions? Yes, that’s always troublesome, I agree. I despised it when my friends did it to me over the years. But now I’m going to offer you some advice and you’ll be equally annoyed by that. I only hope you’ll take it.”

  Morgan shrugged. “There’s no stopping you. Go ahead.”

  Robert pushed off the door and stepped closer. The teasing was gone from his expression. “Tread lightly, Morgan. There are things in this world you cannot trifle with.”

  Morgan set his jaw. He hated that his brother was closer to the mark that he should have been. He hated that the advice rang true.

  He stepped away and went back to picking up the cards. “Fuck off, Your Grace.”

  Robert snorted out a laugh and said nothing else as he left the room. When he was gone, Morgan set the items in his hand down and stared into the fire. As much as he hated to admit it, Robert wasn’t wrong. He was in dangerous waters now.

  He’d have to tread extremely lightly from now on.

  Chapter 9

  Morgan stood at the edge of the area in the garden that had been cleared for the gazebo and watched as the workers staked out the edges of the new building. He ought to have been focused on that work. Focused on the goal at hand and his job as overseer of it.

  Instead, his mind kept flitting, insistently and at the most inopportune times, to Lizzie in the library the night before. Lizzie’s lips. Lizzie’s gaze as she stared up at him.

  “Mr. Banfield?”

  Morgan jolted for he realized that the head gardener was at his elbow and had said his name more than once. He turned to face the older man with a contrite nod. “I was woolgathering, Mr. Lancaster, I apologize. What do you need?”

  Lancaster stretched his back and watched the men work for a moment. “It
will be a fine building when it’s finished.”

  “Indeed,” Morgan said.

  He had been uncertain about Lancaster’s feelings toward him since he had swept in and taken charge of a project in the garden the man had tended for decades, but the gardener had not been anything but polite and helpful. The entire staff was, in truth. He felt welcomed by them, though he wasn’t entirely in their society. Just as he wasn’t entirely in the society of the duke and his family.

  He was stuck in between. And that was…isolating.

  Lancaster said, “Now that the lads have begun their work, I wondered if you might join me a moment? I have a question about an area in the garden that hasn’t been discussed yet.”

  “Of course,” Morgan said. He followed Lancaster down the twisting paths, and finally they reached a little area in a corner of the garden. It was brown and dead, old vines twisting against the ground and brittle bushes shedding leaves and sticks across the grass.

  “Oh,” Morgan said. “I’m shocked a change to this part of the garden wasn’t in Lady Elizabeth’s plans.”

  “Since she’s following the last duchess’s sketches, I suppose it wouldn’t be,” Lancaster said with a sad frown. “There was a deep frost that lasted too long a few years back. We covered most of the plants, but these got forgotten somehow and died. Still, since we’re doing so much work, I wondered if you had a thought about this place?”

  “You want my opinion?” Morgan asked. “You certainly know more about every leaf in this place than I could ever hope to.”

  Lancaster smiled at him. “Perhaps that’s true. Perhaps that’s why I want your opinion. Sometimes fresh eyes are the brightest. You have good instincts, Mr. Banfield.”

  Morgan tried to ignore the way his chest puffed up with unexpected pride. He rubbed his chin. It was a pretty little corner of the estate grounds, to be certain. A great many guestrooms looked out over it, if his judgment of the layout of the chambers above him was correct. So it needed to be special. And since this area didn’t fall into Elizabeth’s strict adherence to her mother’s plans, he also felt he might have a bit more leeway in design.