by Amanda Quick
Desire so powerful that it threatened to consume every other sensation thundered through his veins. He was already hard, fiercely aroused. He was desperate for her.
It took all the control he possessed not to seize her and carry her straight to the bed. He forced himself to move silently into the room and set the candle down on the nearest table.
She closed the door noiselessly and turned to face him.
“Arthur, I—”
“Hush. No one must hear us talking together in here.”
He took her into his arms and kissed her before she could speak another word.
Her arms went around him very tightly. He felt her nails sink into his back through the silk of his dressing gown. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing him inside.
He would control himself, he vowed. This time he would make the experience one that would ensure that she never forgot him.
He slid his palms down her spine, savoring the elegant curve. When his fingers closed over her hips, the feel of her firm, round buttocks under his hands almost sent him over the edge. He squeezed gently and urged her snugly against his rigid staff.
Another delicious little shiver went through her. She made a tiny, breathless sound and clung to him.
He moved his hands around her waist and undid the knot in the sash that held her wrapper together. The garment parted to reveal a simple white lawn nightgown trimmed at the throat with lace and blue ribbons. He could see the soft swell of her breasts and the peaks of her nipples pressing against the delicate fabric.
He kissed her throat and then caught her dainty, delicate earlobe between his teeth. She responded with more shivers and a choked gasp of pleasure. Her reaction thrilled him and stirred him in a way that no drug could ever match.
One by one he removed the pins that secured her little cap. When the last one came free, her hair tumbled over his hands. He made a fist in the sweet, scented tresses and used it to anchor her head for more kisses.
She pushed her hand beneath the lapel of his dressing gown and flattened her palm across his bare chest. The heat of her fingers was so intense that it was all he could do to swallow his groan of raw need.
He looked down into her face. There was enough light from the candle to show him that her expression was drenched in wonder and passion. She parted her lips, and he knew that she had already sunk so far into the realm of sensation that she had forgotten the need for silence.
Hastily, he covered her open mouth with his hand and shook his head, smiling slightly. Rueful comprehension gleamed in her eyes. A teasing, provocative light quickly followed. Very gently, very deliberately, she bit the palm of his hand.
He almost laughed aloud. Half-drunk with the knowledge of what was yet to come, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
He tumbled her down onto the rumpled sheets and stripped off his dressing gown and slippers. He was entirely naked now, as he had not put on a nightshirt earlier when he had prepared for bed. He suddenly realized that this was the first time Elenora had seen him in a state of complete undress.
He looked down at her, wondering if she would find him pleasant to look upon or if the sight of his uncovered, fully aroused body would make her uneasy.
But when he saw her expression, his tension disappeared. A radiant fascination gleamed in her eyes, making him smile. When she reached out to encircle him with her fingers, it was all he could do to contain himself.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself onto the bed. For a few minutes, he relished the hot pleasure of being touched intimately by Elenora. But after a moment or two of exquisite torture, he was forced to catch and trap her exploring hands. If he did not stop her, he thought, he would not be able to finish this as he intended.
He pushed her gently onto her back, bent over her and slid his palm along her bare thigh. The bottom edge of her nightgown caught on his wrist and was carried upward with the movement of his hand.
He did not stop until he could see the triangle of dark hair that veiled her secrets.
He leaned down and kissed her soft, beautifully round knee. She brushed her fingers across the back of his neck. After a moment he gently separated her legs and touched his tongue to the inside of one silken thigh. This time her fingers tightened in his hair.
“Arthur?”
Reaching up with one hand, he covered her lips with his palm, reminding her of the need for silence.
When he felt her subside, he returned to his task.
He settled himself between her legs and inhaled the exquisitely feminine scent he discovered there. She smelled of the sea and spices too rare to be named. He could live the rest of his life on that drugging fragrance, he thought. Raising her knees on either side of his head, he found the small, sensitive bud and began to work it with his fingers.
She stiffened immediately, as though not quite certain how to respond. But her body knew precisely what to do. In a very short time she was so wet that his hands glistened in the candlelight.
She began to breathe more quickly. Her hips shifted, lifting against him. When he eased a finger into her she clenched around him and gasped.
He lowered his head and kissed the very heart of her desire, simultaneously sliding another finger into her and probing gently.
“Arthur,” she gasped in a muffled whisper. She struggled to rise to a sitting position. “What are you doing?”
He did not raise his head, but he used one hand to push her gently but firmly back down onto the bed.
At first he thought she would resist. But gradually she moaned and fell back. He could hear her quick little breaths. He knew that she was in the grip of a force she did not fully comprehend.
“Oh, my, oh, my, ooooh, my goodness.”
So much for her vow of silence, he thought, amused but also a little worried. He could not stop now, though. She was too close and he was determined to finish this properly.
He sensed her impending climax before she did. Her hands twisted in the sheets. Her entire body tensed.
She was lost, he thought. She no longer had any notion of what was going on around her.
In that moment he heard the unmistakable sound of the door in the front hall opening. He caught the distant, muffled murmur of voices downstairs.
Margaret and Bennett were home.
Elenora’s release burst upon her like a storm. He raised his head quickly and saw her lips part. Her eyes were squeezed shut.
Disaster loomed.
He moved, propelling himself forward until he covered her body with his own. He caught her head between his hands and clamped his mouth over hers, swallowing the high, desperate shriek of astonished pleasure.
A moment later she softened beneath him. Cautiously he raised his head, freeing her mouth. He put a fingertip to her lips and spoke directly into her ear. She looked up at him with dazed, uncomprehending eyes.
“Margaret and Bennett are here,” he whispered.
Downstairs, the door closed. Margaret’s footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Arthur did not move so much as a muscle. Beneath him, Elenora was just as perfectly still. They both listened intently.
Margaret’s steps grew louder as she started down the hall toward her bedchamber. Arthur met Elenora’s eyes. As one, they both looked at the candle that still burned on the table.
He knew that they were each wondering the same thing. Would Margaret notice the pale slant of light beneath the door?
Margaret’s footsteps paused at her own bedchamber and then, just as Arthur had begun to believe he and Elenora had been spared, she continued on down the hall.
She was going to knock and she would expect Elenora to answer the door, he thought. He could only hope that Elenora would be able to come up with a convenient excuse for not inviting her into the bedchamber for a late-night chat.
He became aware of the fact that Elenora had both hands planted against his chest and was pushing upward with all her strength. Obediently, he rolled away and got silently to
his feet beside the bed.
The inevitable knock sounded on the door of the bedchamber.
“Elenora? I noticed the candle. If you’re not too exhausted, I have the most exciting news. Bennett has asked me to marry him.”
“One moment, Margaret, while I put on my wrapper and slippers.” Elenora bounded out of bed. “Your news is thrilling. I am so pleased for you.”
She continued talking in bright, enthusiastic tones while she wrenched open the wardrobe door, yanked the billowing skirts of several gowns aside and gestured frantically at Arthur.
He realized that she intended for him to hide inside the damned wardrobe. He stifled a groan. She was right. It was the only place of concealment in the bedchamber.
He paused to pick up his dressing gown and slippers and then, with great reluctance, he got into the wardrobe. Elenora promptly closed the door. He was immediately enveloped in fine muslin, scented silks and darkness.
He heard Elenora open the bedchamber door.
“I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?” she said to Margaret. “Why don’t we go downstairs to the library and sample some of Arthur’s excellent brandy? I want to hear every detail of Bennett’s proposal. Also, I have the most astonishing news to tell you, too.”
Margaret laughed happily, sounding for all the world like a young lady in the throes of her first great love affair. Maybe that was precisely the case, Arthur thought.
“Do you think we dare help ourselves to the brandy, though?” Margaret asked with a hint of genuine concern. “You know how Arthur feels about it. He treats the stuff as though it were a rare golden elixir of the gods.”
“Trust me,” Elenora said with great depth of feeling. “In this instance Arthur will not have the slightest objection to us going downstairs to drink some of his precious brandy.”
The door closed behind the two women.
Arthur brooded amid the shadows and the feminine skirts for a few minutes, wondering what had become of his orderly, well-planned life. He could not believe that he was hiding in a wardrobe inside a lady’s bedchamber.
Things like this had never happened to him before he had met Elenora.
35
The following afternoon was Wednesday, the day the servants had free. Elenora found herself alone in the house with Sally, who quickly disappeared to her room to read her new Margaret Mallory novel.
Margaret had gone out with Bennett a half hour before. Arthur had left soon thereafter, saying that he intended to search the rooms where Parker had lived. Elenora knew he had expected her to insist upon accompanying him, but when he had informed her of his plan, she had merely nodded absently and wished him luck finding the three red gems.
At two-thirty, she put on her bonnet and gloves and set out for a walk.
It was a warm, sunny day. When she arrived at her destination she found Lucinda Colyer and Charlotte Atwater waiting for her in the perpetual funereal gloom of Mrs. Blancheflower’s parlor.
“There you are, Elenora.” Lucinda reached for the teapot. “We are anxious to hear your news.”
“I think you will find it very interesting.” Elenora sat down on the sofa and surveyed her two friends. “I apologize for the short notice.”
“Do not worry about that,” Charlotte said. “In your note you claimed that there was a matter of great import that we had to discuss immediately.”
“Good heavens, it happened, didn’t it?” Lucinda’s eyes lit with horrified expectation. “Just as I predicted. Your new employer took advantage of you. My poor, poor, Elenora. I did warn you.”
Elenora thought about what Arthur had done to her last night and the incredible sensations she had endured as a result. She suddenly felt quite warm.
“Calm yourself, Lucinda,” she said, and took a sip of tea. “I assure you St. Merryn has not perpetrated any grievous insult upon my person.”
“Oh.” Lucinda’s face fell in acute disappointment, but she managed a weak smile. “I’m so relieved to hear that.”
Elenora put the cup down on the saucer. “I’m afraid that I cannot regale either of you with thrilling tales of my employer’s lechery, but I think that you will find what I have to say even more exciting. It should certainly prove to be a great deal more profitable.”
Arthur stood in the center of the small room that Parker had used as a parlor. There was something very wrong about this place.
When Lady Wilmington had given him the key an hour before, she had assured him that he would find Parker’s lodgings in the same condition that they had been in the day before, when he had been taken away to the asylum. She had made it clear that she had not yet had time to remove any of her grandson’s possessions or furnishings.
Arthur had gone through each of the rooms with methodical precision. He had not found the red stones, but that was not what was making him uneasy. What bothered him was the appearance of these rooms.
On the surface, everything seemed entirely appropriate and unremarkable. The furnishings in the bedchamber, sitting room and kitchen were precisely what one would expect to see in lodgings that had been used by a fashionable young gentleman. The bookcase contained the works of the most popular poets and an assortment of the classics. The clothes in the wardrobe were in the latest style.
There was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary, Arthur noted. And that was what was wrong. Because Parker was a most unusual and extraordinary villain.
Elenora was amused by Lucinda’s and Charlotte’s reaction to what she had just said. They stared at her in appalled astonishment.
“In short,” she concluded, “the gentlemen in the clubs have all concluded that St. Merryn has played a great joke upon Society. They believe that he hired me to serve as an extremely convenient mistress.”
“They have concluded that you are his mistress posing as his fiancée. And that he has arranged to have you live right under his roof so as to have you conveniently at hand. How utterly outrageous,” Lucinda exclaimed.
Charlotte gave her a quelling frown. “Do try to remember that Elenora is not actually St. Merryn’s mistress, Lucinda. That is merely the rumor that is going around the clubs.”
“Yes, of course,” Lucinda said hastily. She gave Elenora an apologetic, if somewhat regretful grin. “Do go on.”
“As I was saying,” Elenora continued, “the wagers all involve the date that St. Merryn will end his little charade and dismiss me.” She paused a beat to make certain she had their full attention. “I see no reason why we should not take advantage of this situation, to place our own bets.”
Comprehension appeared first in their eyes. It was followed almost at once by the first glimmers of wonder and hope.
“It would be a certainty,” Charlotte whispered, awed by the possibilities. “If Elenora could persuade St. Merryn to end their association on a specific day—”
“I do not think there will be any problem there,” Elenora assured them. “I believe that St. Merryn will cooperate on the matter of the exact date.”
“And we would be the only ones who knew that date,” Lucinda breathed. “Why, we might each win a fortune.”
“It would be tempting to wager several thousand pounds,” Elenora said, “but I do not think that would be wise. A vast sum might make people suspicious. We do not want anyone questioning our bets.”
“How much, then?” Lucinda demanded.
Elenora hesitated, thinking. “I expect that we could safely wager a total of seven or eight hundred pounds. I should think any amount under a thousand would be small enough to go unnoticed in the betting books. We will split the winnings three ways.”
“Certainly sounds like a fortune to me,” Lucinda declared, entranced. She glanced meaningfully up at the ceiling. “It is a good deal more than I expect to see from Mrs. Blancheflower in her will, and I probably stand a greater chance of collecting it. I am starting to think my employer may outlive me.”
“But how would we arrange to place the bet?” Charlotte asked. “No l
ady can walk into one of those clubs in St. James and put a wager in the book.”
“I have considered the problem closely,” Elenora said, “and I believe that I have a plan that will work.”
“This is so exciting,” Charlotte said.
“I think the venture deserves to be celebrated with more than a cup of tea,” Lucinda announced.
She rose from the sofa, opened a cupboard and took down a dusty decanter of sherry.
“One moment,” Charlotte said, some of her enthusiasm evaporating. “What happens if we lose the wager? We could not possibly cover our bets.”
“For heaven’s sake, Charlotte, use your head.” Lucinda removed the cut glass top of the sherry decanter. “The only way we could lose is if St. Merryn were to actually marry Elenora. Now, how likely do you think that is?”
Charlotte’s face cleared instantly. “Likely? It is inconceivable that a gentleman of his wealth and position would marry a paid companion. I don’t know what got into me to even suggest that we might lose.”
“Quite right,” Elenora said. With an effort of sheer will, she forced back the tears that threatened to fall. She managed a bright smile and raised her sherry glass. “To our wager, ladies.”
Half an hour later she set off for the mansion on Rain Street with a feeling that she was walking toward her own doom. It was all very well to drink to a rosy future free of financial worries and filled with the challenge of running her little bookshop, she thought. And no doubt someday, when her tears had dried, she would be able to enjoy the life she planned to create for herself. But first she would have to deal with the pain of parting from Arthur.
She emerged from the park and walked slowly along the street that would take her home. No, not home. This street leads back to your place of temporary employment. You do not have a home. But you will have one eventually. You are going to create it for yourself.
At the front door of the big house she remembered that most of the staff was away for the day. She possessed a key and was perfectly capable of opening the door.
She let herself into the hall and removed her pelisse, gloves and bonnet.
