by Diana Quincy
“You’ve left your guests unattended.”
“Mr. Zaydan spends all of his time out with the horses. He’s off on a hack now.”
“And Miss Zaydan?”
“You invited her here.”
“Because I thought Miss Zaydan would provide some . . . comfort to you here at Ashby.”
He crinkled his brow. “Comfort?”
“I am a married woman. I’m not innocent to matters between men and women.”
Griff stiffened. “You brought her here because you thought she’d warm my bed?”
“I thought she could provide company and warmth, yes.”
“You think Miss Zaydan is my amour?” He lowered his chin, tucking it back toward his neck. “I assure you that she is not. She is a virtuous woman.”
“I am not suggesting she’s a harlot.” Dorcas’s tone was conciliatory. “But it isn’t as if she needs to be treated with the care of a lady. You don’t risk compromising her.”
“I have not bedded Miss Zaydan. It is an insult to her for you to suggest otherwise.”
“My husband keeps a mistress,” she said. “She’s the daughter of a hatmaker in Southwark. He thinks I don’t know about her. I am not proposing you take advantage of Miss Zaydan. You could come to a mutually agreeable arrangement. It’s clear the bonesetter finds you as appealing as you find her. She is hardly an innocent.”
But Griff knew Hanna was far naiver than she appeared. She really was an innocent in so many ways, although he suspected she’d bristle if he said as much to her face.
“As I said, Miss Zaydan is a respectable woman,” he repeated firmly. “You’ve seen her dispensary. She’s nobody’s whore.”
Dorcas held up her hands. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped. I thought I sensed something between the two of you. I wanted to ease the way for you to have what you want.”
“I’m not fifteen anymore, Dorcas,” he said tightly. “I will thank you to stay out of my private affairs. I can manage on my own.”
“I take your point. I won’t interfere again. I’m just so thrilled to have you back that I want to do everything in my power to ensure your happiness.”
“I shall have to create my own contentment.”
She paused, studying his face. “You always were fond of Selina.”
“Very,” he agreed.
“You will be happy with her.” It was a question as much as a statement.
“I shall be content.”
“I understand Selina and her mother are back at Hall House.”
“Selina is here in the country?” Her parents’ home was nearby. Less than thirty minutes away on foot. Griff had often walked there as a boy.
“Shall we invite them to supper?”
“They will decline. Selina insists that we not see each other or have any communication until we meet to discuss our future in a few weeks.”
Dorcas frowned. “Why? That hardly makes sense, considering that the two of you are to wed.”
“Selina wants us to take this time to seriously consider our futures. She hasn’t yet consented to marrying me.”
“She will. Selina is very fond of you.”
“I noticed you didn’t mention my taking Miss Zaydan to wife.”
She actually laughed. “She’s a merchant’s daughter. And a Levantine. Hardly viscountess material. But I imagine you’ll want to say goodbye before she departs this afternoon.”
He tensed. “She’s leaving?”
“Yes, as soon as her brother returns from his ride. She’s awaiting his return.”
He forced himself to stay seated, to project a lack of interest. “Where is she now?”
“In the solarium, reading.”
“I see. I’m pleased she’s found something to occupy her time until her brother returns.” He reached for a ledger and opened it. “It’s a relief. I have much to catch up on.”
He felt Dorcas’s curious gaze on him. “I shall leave you to your work.”
He kept his eyes on the ledger until the door closed before shooting to his feet. Hanna was leaving. He had to see her before she departed. He’d been cool with her yesterday after his talk with Rafi. And now, Dorcas’s assumptions about Hanna proved Rafi was correct. Griff needed to let Hanna go. He couldn’t leave her reputation in shambles.
But he also couldn’t let her leave without saying goodbye.
He found her in the solarium. He’d come around from the outside, not wanting Dorcas to catch him exiting his study in search of Hanna.
Hanna wore her yellow dress with a lace fichu tucked modestly into her neckline. Her hair was back in its severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her thick, dark lashes fanned out across her cheeks as she read.
“Are you reading something of interest?” he said as he came in through the door that led from the garden to the solarium.
“Not particularly. But it helps to pass the time until Rafi returns.”
“I hear you are leaving.”
“Yes. Your nephew is fine. There is no reason for me to be here.” Her reserve was firmly in place. “We’ll go as soon as Rafi returns from his ride. He was supposed to be back by now.”
“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
She glanced away. “You seem very busy.”
“I am never too busy for you,” he said softly.
She brought her gaze back to meet his. “Did you know your sister brought me here because she thought I was your strumpet?”
“No. At least, not at first. But she and your brother have enlightened me. We do need to stay away from each other.”
“I agree.” She closed the book. “It is for the best.”
He joined her on the iron bench but took care to keep plenty of distance between them. “Why is it that things that are supposed to be good for us make us miserable?”
“I wish I knew. I often wonder what would it be to live in a time when we can truly do as we please.”
“There’d be many more happy people in the world.”
The rules of society demanded that he marry Selina. The same strictures prevented him from pursuing a future with the laboring-class daughter of immigrant merchants. Even if he were free to take Hanna to wife, her family was against any match between them. Besides, the ton would never accept her. One could not be both a viscountess and a bonesetter. He’d never ask Hanna to abandon her passion for bonesetting and waste her considerable skills. And for what? In order to attend routs and recitals and make endless small talk?
They sat quietly as a wave of sadness ebbed over them.
She broke the silence. “We might as well get on with it.” The words were brisk. Hanna wasn’t one to wallow. “Have you had any luck finding your father’s journal?”
“It’s not in my father’s study. The next more likely place is Father’s sitting room. I haven’t worked up the courage to go in there.”
She paused, seeming to consider something. “I’m here until Rafi returns. I can help you look until then.”
“Are you certain?” His heart lifted at the prospect of having more time with her. “Your presence would definitely make the search more bearable.”
“I am positive.” She stood up. “Let’s go. My brother could return at any moment. He’s already overdue.”
He came to his feet. “I guess there’s no time to waste.”
Her face brightened. “Lead the way.”
Taking a deep breath, Griff led Hanna to his parents’ bedchamber.
Hanna was amazed by the grandeur of the family quarters at Ashby Manor.
The sitting room that linked the viscount’s and viscountess’s bedchambers was enormous, swathed in satins and velvets, with priceless paintings adorning almost every inch of wall space. As she searched, Hanna feared upending a vase or porcelain figure that might be worth more money than she could ever hope to repay.
Still, she was happy to help Griff. They’d begun this journey to find the truth together. It would be fitting to be able to end it together.
While Hanna searched a marble-topped walnut writing table in the sitting room, Griff went into his father’s bedchamber. Which was really Griff’s now. But he’d been staying elsewhere in the family wing.
“Anything?” Griff asked as he emerged from the viscount’s bedchamber.
“Nothing in the sitting room. I’ve searched everywhere.”
He slumped into a seat. “Maybe it’s not here at Ashby. Or if he’s hidden it in one of the dozens of rooms or salons here, we’ll never find it.”
“Dr. Pratt wanted to go through your father’s papers at Haven House. Maybe he came out here and found the journal. Have you asked him if he has it?”
He shot her a skeptical look. “What is the likelihood he’ll tell the truth if he does?”
He had a point. “We haven’t checked your mother’s rooms. Maybe he left it in there?”
“He did spend most nights in Mother’s bed.” He flushed.
As did she. It did not require much imagination to understand why Griff’s parents shared a bed.
Griff came to his feet. “Let’s check Mother’s room.”
Hanna followed him into the adjoining bedchamber. She made every effort to appear nonchalant. Which was impossible considering she’d entered a bedchamber with a man to whom she was very much attracted. The mammoth canopied bed, the room’s centerpiece, did not help.
She tried to distract herself by taking in the room’s decoration. Bright embroidered birds and flowers against a crisp white background adorned the silk bed hangings. Birds also graced the wall tapestries and were carved into the marble mantel.
Hanna ran a hand over the bed hangings. “I gather your mother was fond of birds.”
He chuckled. “Very.”
“How is it for you to be in this bedchamber again?”
He surveyed the room. “To be frank, not as strange as I thought it would be.”
“Where do we start?”
He walked to the far side of the bed.
“Why there?”
He flushed again. “This was Father’s side.”
“Oh.” Being in such a private, such an intimate, space prompted Hanna’s pulse to pound hard through her veins. She suddenly felt desperate. Soon Rafi would return from his ride, and she and Griff would part forever. She’d never again know his kiss or touch or be held by him. Only a fool would pass up this opportunity to be with him in the most intimate way.
“It’s so unfair.”
Griff looked up from the drawer he was going through. “What is?”
“That I’ll never be kissed by you again.”
The cords of his throat moved. “Hanna,” he warned. “We should not talk of such things. We agreed.”
“Not because we want to.”
“No, not because we want to,” he agreed softly.
“What we do is our business.”
“If only that were true.”
“I want you.” She licked her lips. “I want you to be the one.”
He stilled. “What are you saying?”
“I want to know what it is to be bedded by a man. But not just any man. You.”
“There is nothing I want more.” He swallowed. “But I cannot do that to you. It wouldn’t be right.”
“I am not asking for forever. I’m just asking you for this one thing. This one time. No one need ever know.”
He was shaking his head. “You aren’t thinking clearly. You are moved by the moment.” She sensed the tension in his athletic form. “As am I.”
“You’re correct, I am.” She moved to him, to where he stood on his father’s side of the bed. “I am moved by the urgency of our situation. Once Rafi returns, we will have forever lost our chance.”
“Coming in here was a mistake.”
“Was it really?” She put her arms around his waist and set her cheek against his chest. His heart beat furiously. She ran her hands up his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. He kept his hands stiffly by his side.
He groaned. “We need to stop now.” The words were low, husky and utterly lacking in conviction.
“Why?” She stood on the tips of her toes to drag her lips across his closed mouth. “Consider our circumstances. I don’t intend to marry. At this very moment, you remain unattached.”
“Stop making this sound so reasonable.” He kissed her back. But just barely. As if he couldn’t let her lips touch his without responding.
“There’s nothing real stopping us.” She nibbled the underside of his strong jaw. “Are you truly so cruel as to deny me the chance to know what it is to lie with a man?”
“I’m being a gentleman.” His voice sounded strained, as if heavy weights were pressing against his vocal cords.
“If it’s not you, it will eventually be someone else. Maybe Evan would oblige me.”
He stiffened. “That is not even remotely amusing.”
“The problem is that the only hands I want on my body are yours.” She pressed a kiss in the V of his shirt, against the warmth of his throat. His body trembled beneath her lips. “Please.”
“Hanna.” The way he said her name was both a warning and a prayer.
She pulled back to stare into steely-blue eyes. But what she saw in his gaze was anything but cool. “Are you going to make me beg?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He groaned, his jaw stiff, tense. “You are asking me to behave in a dishonorable manner.”
“Isn’t it dishonorable to refuse a lady?” She nibbled on his earlobe. “Do you refuse me because I am not a lady?”
“You know that’s not it. Stop twisting my words the way you manipulate people’s bones.”
She bit her lip, frustrated and embarrassed. She was making a fool of herself. What an amateur seductress she turned out to be.
“I’m terrible at this.” Her cheeks burning, she pulled away. “I couldn’t seduce you if I tried.”
“Wrong.” He brought her back to him and cradled her face in his large hands. “You are the most beguiling woman I’ve ever met.”
She stared into his dazzling eyes. “And yet, here I am throwing myself at you, and you are unmoved.”
Heat flared in his gaze. “I am anything but unmoved. My body is . . . very moved.”
She put her hands over his as he cupped her cheeks. “Prove it.”
He shook his head, his eyes bright with desire. “You make it very difficult for a man to refuse you.”
She groaned. “Then don’t. My body is so hungry for you that I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Shhh.” He kissed her gently yet thoroughly, pushing into her mouth, his tongue searching and stroking, dancing with hers. It was long, slow and deep. He tasted her as she tasted him. Without boundaries or constraint. Putting their mark on each other.
This kiss was unlike any other before. Deep, soulful, potent. Honest. An unspoken declaration of his feelings for her. Something that was best not put into words.
Breaking the kiss, he set his forehead against hers. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his breath sweetly humid. “I don’t want you to regret this later.”
“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” She paused. “Except setting a bone, of course. Or putting a joint back in.”
He laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “I never realized how seductive a competent woman could be.”
“You’re about to find out. Unless you lose your nerve.”
He scoffed. “Only a fool would refuse your offer. And I’m no fool.” He removed her fichu, baring her décolletage, and bent to press his lips against her collarbone.
She melted into him. “Hurry. Before we lose our chance.”
He pulled back. Keeping his gaze on hers, he removed his shirt, pulling the white linen up over his head and tossing it away. “You said before that you hadn’t had the opportunity, back when you treated me, to touch my body as you would have liked. Show me now.”
She momentarily forgot to breathe at the sight of his bare chest, the ridges and c
ontours, the dusting of hair across his chest, down to the flat plain of his belly, disappearing into the low waist of his buff breeches. “You still have too many clothes on for me to do that.”
His eyes blazed. “What a minx you are.” His hands went to the buttons of his breeches. He paused as if giving her time to change her mind. As if she would ever change her mind about the opportunity to see him in all of his glory.
She licked her lips. “Keep going.” Then she added, “Please.”
“Are you begging?” he asked hoarsely.
“Do you want me to get down on my knees?” She would. In a minute. If it meant feasting her eyes, and her hands, on all of the private parts of him that he kept hidden from the world.
“Perhaps.” He swallowed. Hard. “But not right now.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were glued to the movements of his long, clever fingers as he unbuttoned his breeches, one maddeningly slow button at a time.
He pushed the breeches down over his narrow hips and stepped out of one leg, flinging them off his one ankle with a few quick shakes.
She stared at him. “Oh my.”
The primordial display of masculinity was almost overwhelming. Almost. Griff stood still while Hanna looked and touched her fill. She slid her hands over the broadness of his chest, roaming to feel round biceps. Heat radiated off him. He tensed and shivered as her fingers fluttered over his skin.
She circled him, her fingers feathering over his shoulder blades, down to the small of his back and over firm, round buttocks. He possessed thick thighs and prominent calves. His male member was thick, long and hard.
Coming to stand before Griff, she closed her fingers around his organ and tried to imagine such a thing inside of her. How would it feel? She couldn’t wait to find out.
He grunted when she touched him so intimately. She moved her hands to cup his balls, feeling the rough-hewn, yet soft-to-the-touch skin that encapsulated them.
“Touching you as I please would start with something such as this,” she said, her pulse a thumpy, whooshing sound in her ears.
He startled her by moving suddenly, swiftly. “Let’s get this gown off you.” He took her into his arms and gave her another long, hungry kiss. “If recent history tells us anything, it’s that we risk being interrupted before we get to the main event.”