Maybe he should consider an affair, especially with the woman he'd nearly drooled over.
"Her body should grace someone's bed and you know it. Might as well make it yours." A grin slid across Andrew's face. "I dare you to make her an offer. Consider it an early Christmas gift to yourself."
"Of marriage? We have not been introduced." Not even a pretty face could sweeten the sourness of pledging his life permanently to someone else. A woman who would spend his hard-earned cash and badger him into an early grave.
Where was the cheer and goodwill in that?
"I'm not talking about marriage. Make her an offer, an exchange if you will. Everyone needs something. If your libido needs stroking, you can bet that woman has a pressing want in her life. Find out what it is and strike a deal." Andrew downed the remainder of his wine. "You know I am right. Hell, aren't you the one who keeps telling me everyone has an angle, especially at this time of the year?"
"I do not." What a lie. It was exactly the reason he'd been banished in the first place.
Blake spared another glance toward the table where he'd last seen the woman and a stab of disappointment worried his stomach when she'd moved on. "Besides, she does not have the look of that sort of woman. Not to mention I have never paid a woman to warm my bed. Women come of their own free will."
And there was that swift glance of knowing…
"For God's sake, man, she works in a hotel dining room clearing off dirty plates that other people have eaten from. How much money can such a job possibly pay?" With a sly glint in his eye, Andrew raised a hand. "Let's get the girl over here so you can look her over from a better distance."
"What the hell are you doing?" His hiss of warning went ignored. "Besides, if I suggest payment for a night of pleasure, she is likely to slap me and call the authorities." Such behavior would hardly help his cause to re-enter the Court.
He glanced up and his heart lodged in his throat. The woman in question nodded to Andrew from across the room and was headed their way.
"She could. I doubt it, though. Look closely. I may not know women as well as you, but even I know desperation in someone's expression. With enough money, anyone can be bought. You merely need to find the price." When the woman reached their table, Andrew's grin widened. "I'd like a bottle of port, please, and Blake, do you require something as well?"
Insanity reigned for a few seconds while he gazed at the woman who waited quietly near his elbow. While she looked at him with a mix of expectation and mild annoyance, he felt trapped in her blue eyes and chastised all at once. He swallowed. "Nothing for me, thank you."
She nodded. "Very well." When she turned away, Blake shot out a hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
"Wait." Mild shockwaves danced over his arm from the contact.
"Pardon me, sir." She yanked out of his grasp. The shock in her eyes told him she'd felt it, too. "Such familiar interaction with the wait staff is not allowed."
"I apologize." The warmth of her skin lingered. He was as nervous as a youth making conversation about the weather. "If you would, may I have your name?"
"That is highly improper."
"Please." He couldn't explain the irrational need.
Her lips trembled as if she would smile then she pressed them into a thin line. She twisted her apron in her hands. "Bethany Cundiff. Now, please excuse me."
Blake stared after her until she vanished from his view into a back room. "I cannot ask her to begin an affair." Although he'd had relationships with other women for far less, he couldn't shake the feeling that Bethany was different.
That she would understand him.
Andrew's grin went wide. "Ah. You find her intriguing. Rephrase your invitation. Offer the money upfront and let her draw her own conclusions."
"You must be mad." He stood so abruptly from the table his chair crashed into the diner behind him. Apologizing, he gathered his bowler hat and overcoat. "I am going home."
"What about the club? You still owe Edwards a rematch at cards."
Blake shrugged. "Tell him I will pay the price of the forfeit. Goodnight." His long strides ate up the dining room. Once he'd gained the sidewalk outside, he drew in lungfuls of cool air. His mind cleared. With new resolve, he walked along the pavement when a sound in the alleyway caught his attention.
Thinking it was probably a stray cat or dog, his curiosity wouldn't leave him be until he confirmed what the noise was. He crept into the darkness, careful to avoid the puddles and lumps of questionable debris.
A nondescript door opened into the alley and the shadowy form of a woman stepped out. He inhaled sharply. He recognized that silhouette. It was the server from the dining room.
Her.
"Miss Cundiff." He stepped deeper into the alleyway, heart pounding. He moved closer so she could see him clearly. "Is your shift over?" Thoughts and questions tumbled about his mind. What should he say? What would she do if he asked?
She snapped her head up. "Yes." The woman shied away and kept one hand on the door. "Please, leave me alone. I believe a police captain is dining with us this evening. I have no qualms about summoning him."
He grinned into the darkness. She had spirit. "There is no need. I simply wish to talk with you." He inched forward, slowly as if she were a startled animal. "My name is Blake Wenchal. We met earlier."
In the dim light, he saw one of her eyebrows raise. "I remember. Now please, let me pass." Apparently confident that he'd do just that, she squared her shoulders and moved purposefully toward him.
Her eyes glittered in the dim light from the kitchen window. With her full lips parted and splotches of color blooming on her cheeks, she enticed him with no conscious thought. He reacted by instinct alone and swept her into his arms.
Chapter Two
The moment his hands slid around Bethany's waist, she fought against two battles—the first of which was the shiver of something low in her belly and the second was the high impropriety of the embrace, in public no less. When his lips met hers, unexpected spirals of need gripped her stomach. She placed her palms against his chest and pushed, ending the brief contact.
"Mr. Wenchal, I must protest. This is hardly proper." Men who'd attempted to court her over the years had kissed her numerous times, but none of them made her feel as if her world spun out of control.
As if she'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Which is why I must do it again."
All rational thought fled when he kissed her again. His mouth was warm and firm against hers and his arms strong and possessive as he tightened them around her. Giving up the fight, she melted into his embrace as if she were a snowflake. No matter that she barely knew him or that such a display wasn’t done, she craved the touch of a man, a small overture of kindness to warm her soul. A whimper escaped. Her fingers crushed the lapels of his coat while she clung to him. Unseen hands seemed to tickle down her spine.
As if she'd been waiting for him.
A crash sounded from the kitchen and common sense returned. Bethany pulled away. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "I, uh…" her voice trailed into the night. What did one say after being assaulted with a kiss in an alleyway?
An expression of bewilderment shadowed his face before he hid it away under the same boredom she'd seen inside the dining room. "Miss Cundiff, I realize this is short notice and perhaps will be a bit of a shock. I would like to extend an invitation to you. For Christmas, you see, and the holidays to be exact."
"I am afraid I do not see. You really are not making any sense." She attempted to edge past him but he moved into her path. "Please, I must return home."
"Wait! Hear me out." He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a calling card. "I want to spend time with you during the holiday season. I am prepared to offer you a monetary gift in return."
Her jaw dropped open. The edge of the vellum dug into her left palm as he forced it into her hand. She closed her mouth with an audible click of her teeth. "You are offerin
g me a payment for what in return, exactly?" Her stomach pitched at the possibilities. Surely, he couldn't mean that?
He grazed a hand along her arm and she felt the heat even through the heavy jacket she wore. "I am offering you four hundred dollars to spend the next two weeks with me: housemate, companion, bed warmer. To fulfill any other desire I should have during the next ten days."
"How dare you!" Bethany drew back her hand. When the slap connected with his cheek, tears pricked the backs of her eyelids—not from the contact but from the slur. He assumed she was a prostitute. Anger warmed her insides at the insult. "I will do no such thing." She shoved him aside and marched out of the alley with her head held high.
Except…
Her steps faltered. Four hundred dollars was an exorbitant sum. She could pay months ahead on her rent not to mention afford the coal needed to heat the small rooms and buy presents for the children.
At what cost? Her virtue? Her soul? Her morals?
Was she the only one who placed a value on such things?
She closed her fingers around the card in her hand then finally buried it deep in her pocket. If the decision came down to her body or taking care of the children, she knew which option she'd choose. A sob shook her shoulders. By will power alone, she forced the fear away.
It could be worse. She could have been repulsed when he kissed her. Instead, a lingering thrill tickled deep inside.
Even that wasn't enough incentive.
Slowly, she turned and faced him. He had the potential to be her savior or her destruction. Either way, she needed more time to come to a definite conclusion. She licked her lips and swallowed as bile rose in her throat. "When do you need my answer?" Her voice wavered. She hated herself for it. Years of being strong for the children couldn't help her in this situation. "I need time." The cool breeze caught her statement and threw it back at her.
"No later than tomorrow. Send a note to my address and I will bring a carriage and escort you home."
Home.
Somehow, the word didn't conjure images of safety and warmth, but one of a different kind of heat—one that threatened to consume or damn her.
He closed the distance between them and brushed a fingertip along her cheek. In the gloom, she couldn't see his features well and she thought she caught a glimmer, a shining about him that vanished before she could assess it properly. "I do not expect you to agree to the request. My intention was not to offend you, but do think about it. Money can solve a host of ills. In this way, we will both receive something we want."
Something we want.
Did she want what he offered? What did the almost otherworldly connection between them mean?
Bethany shook her head. "I cannot."
Without another word, she turned and walked with resolute strides along the sidewalk, not stopping until she reached her building. Only then did she give into the wealth of emotions that threatened to drown her. Her stomach trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. Her hands shook. Sobs caught in her throat and complicated the simple act of breathing.
She could not agree to the scheme. Whoring herself out to a stranger—or anyone for that matter—would not fix any of her problems and could very well add another set to what she already dealt with.
What would people say if they found out?
How could she live with herself?
As she huddled on her landlady's doorstep, the door was flung open and Mrs. Hall stood in a yellow rectangle of light, her hands on her formidable hips. "You are a half hour late, young lady."
"I know and I apologize. There was an unavoidable delay at the restaurant." Behind Mrs. Hall's billowing skirts, Sarah and John peered at her with anxious faces. "Was there a problem this evening?"
"Frankly, yes. Your children are too high strung for me to look after any longer. They get my own young ones riled up. Besides, I have a business to run and you have not paid your rent for two months. This is your last night under my roof."
"What? Oh, Mrs. Hall, please.” Bethany blinked back the tears. She refused to cry in front of the children. “You cannot do this. I will have the money to you by week's end, I promise."
"An empty promise, if you ask me. You have said the same thing for the last four days." Her doughy face creased with sorrow. "I need paying customers, you understand. I am sorry to do this to you at Christmas, but it cannot be helped."
"I have no other place to go." She bit her lip to still its trembling.
"And I have no other choice." Mrs. Hall awkwardly patted Bethany's arm as if comforting others came foreign to her. "Best get to packing soon. A storm's coming on. I hate the thought of you and the children out in the elements."
Bethany made a sound of annoyance. "If that were so then you would not be turning us out to begin with."
Unbidden, a shadowy image of the man who had kissed her flitted across her mind. Why did she meet him now when her life was so chaotic?
Mrs. Hall lost the look of sorrow as hardness crept in to steal any compassion she might have felt. "One hour, Miss Cundiff. If you are not out by then, I will be forced to bring in the authorities. Such is the fate for riffraff like you."
"It is a wonder you feel any Christmas spirit at all. It is a time for love and goodwill. Obviously, these concepts are foreign to you, but thank you for your kindness to this point." She lifted her chin and gestured to her two treasures. "Come children. We have an incredible adventure before us." With as much dignity as she could muster, Bethany walked down the hall and up the stairs, resisting at the last moment to stomp her feet as John did when he was angry.
"Aunt Bethany, where are we going? Will I like it there? Are there going to be other kids?" John continued rapid-fire questions as they made their way to the third floor.
"I cannot say, Johnny-boy, but I am certain it will be a surprise. As long as we stick together, we will be fine." Her lips quivered in time to her shaking hands as she shoved the key into the lock. When the door opened, both children ran inside, talking in excited voices about the "adventure."
There was no time for maudlin thinking. She could cry later if they landed on their feet. A sense of failure and hopelessness settled over her. When would fate let her have a few moments to breathe in the quiet? Shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she encountered the stiff vellum of the calling card she'd received earlier in the evening.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
A glimmer of an idea crept into her mind, took root and bloomed. A tiny smile curled her lips. If Mr. Blake Wenchal wanted company for the holidays, he would get it threefold. In one fell swoop, she could keep her virtue intact as well as ensure the children's safety—at least for ten days.
Nothing beyond that could be contemplated.
* * * *
Blake started at the frantic pounding on his front door. He looked about his front room in confusion. The fire still burned cheerily in the grate. The book he'd been reading before he fell asleep lay on the rug near his favorite wingback chair. Rubbing a hand along his stubble-covered jaw, he struggled to his feet when the noise at the door didn't cease on its own.
"No need for such a racket," he grumbled as he yanked open the carved oak door. "What the hell is the emergency?" Gusts of snow swirled into the house while he gawked at his visitor.
The woman from the restaurant stood on his steps with a carpetbag in each hand. Her cheeks and nose were red from the cold and snowflakes clung to tendrils of hair not covered by her bonnet.
"Miss Cundiff? What are you doing here?" Another gust of wind kicked up to ruffle the same black skirts she wore earlier. Did the woman own nothing else?
Indignation sparked in eyes so blue they reminded him of a blown glass vase his mother kept in her parlor. "I have decided to take advantage of your generous offer. I am here to fulfill your wishes for the holidays." If possible, her cheeks grew pinker though he suspected it wasn't due to the cold.
"Indeed?" Once he'd arrived home, he had regretted the flippant way he'd approach
ed her, realizing he'd done her a disservice by insulting her integrity. It was a stupid trick and one he wished to forget. Never did he think she would agree to such a liaison.
Yet here she was.
He swallowed and allowed his gaze to sweep over her person, disappointed that her long jacket hid the curves that tempted him during dinner. Perhaps his luck was turning. "In that case, please come in. I can show you numerous ways we can encourage warmth."
For one moment, he thought she would refuse. Her jaw worked but she never uttered a sound. Finally, she stood aside and revealed two small children who had been standing behind her, hidden by her skirts and luggage.
"Children? What is the meaning of this?" He shivered at the next gust of wind. "I was not aware you had children." Her reticence to accept his offer and the blush in her cheeks from his teasing did not indicate she'd already experienced such a life changing event as childbirth.
This would be a definite complication. The innocence of a child could see through his facade and his charade would come to light.
Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion or defeat, he couldn't say which. "This is my niece, Sarah, and my nephew, John. I am their sole caregiver. Now, if you do not mind, may we come inside? I would rather the children not catch cold because of your stubbornness."
"I beg your pardon."
Immediately making way for them, Blake's manners kicked in and he reached out to relieve her of the luggage. She relinquished them only after he tugged them firmly from her cold hands. As before, a spark sprang between them. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head then turned and pulled a steamer trunk into the entryway, prodding the kids with a hip.
And such a tempting, rounded hip it was, too. He squelched the thought. Now was not the time to plan a seduction scene. Time was of the essence.
He shut the door with his foot while his brain struggled to process the new events. He thought he'd get a charming woman to keep him company and warm his bed. Now he was suddenly the recipient of a bedraggled family—complete with little ones who had the potential to see his real persona. Where to put them all and did he intend to let them stay? He eyed the youngest with a feeling of foreboding. Was that tears or something else that dampened his rounded cheeks?
Disenchanted Christmas Page 2
