Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2)

by Michelle McMaster

  No other man had ever done this to her before. She found herself entranced by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his big, solid body moving around as he inched closer and closer to her.

  Certainly, she’d endured a few chaste kisses from the suitors of her youth, but nothing like this.

  It was unbearable, and yet she didn’t want it to stop.

  Prudence closed her eyes as Lord Weston’s lips reached her bare shoulder. Gently, he turned her face toward his, and Prudence heard herself give a little moan as his mouth finally touched hers.

  What his lips had been doing all the way up her arm, they now did to the mouth that trembled beneath his. Warm and wet, his mouth caressed hers with perfect skill.

  At least, Prudence thought it must be perfect—it felt perfect—even though she hadn’t much to compare it to. With his tongue, he parted her lips further, and she obeyed his command without protest.

  He pressed her back into the plush seat, encircling her with his arms and pulling her powerfully against him.

  Her limbs were going to jelly. She was dizzy…yet how she could be dizzy while sitting down, she didn’t know.

  He cradled her face in his hands and regarded her, his eyes heavy-lidded and filled with undeniable passion.

  “Oh, my beauty,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck and kissing her there, too. Prudence felt delicious little shivers ripple over every inch of her skin and steal her breath away. And as he continued kissing her there, Prudence pulled him closer, for she could do nothing else.

  “Patience, my sweet,” he whispered.

  “Prudence,” she corrected breathlessly.

  “I know,” he said, chuckling. “Patience, Prudence.”

  “Oh, I see. Of course.” And she laughed at herself, too.

  All this kissing must be addling her brain, she thought.

  Perhaps that was why some people campaigned against it. But it was no matter. The only thing that mattered to her right now was the wicked, wicked pleasure that this devilish lord was tempting her with.

  “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asked, bending his head to kiss the hollow of her neck.

  “No,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

  “Then one could say, you are learning something new.”

  “I most certainly am.”

  Oh why was he talking and not kissing?

  He looked into her eyes again, his mouth curved into a sensuous smile. “Then, you are enjoying the lesson?”

  She looked away, feeling her face flush.

  But he tipped it back to look at him. “It is a simple question, Prudence. And an honest one. Doesn’t every teacher want to know if the pupil is enjoying the lesson?”

  He kissed her shoulder again, and her collarbone, and nibbled her ear. “I just want to know,” he murmured, “if you are enjoying it?”

  She swallowed and looked into eyes that seemed to gaze right through to her very soul. “Yes, my lord…I am.”

  “Don’t you think it’s about time you called me by my Christian name?” he asked. “I confess, I have a desire to hear it on your lips.” To further his point, he kissed them.

  “Alfred,” she said, finally.

  “Hmm,” he purred, kissing her nose. “You are an apt pupil. And you have made your teacher very proud. I think you deserve a reward—more kissing.”

  Prudence gripped his shoulders as he kissed her more deeply. She pulled him closer, revelling in the sensation of his strong, solid body against the softness of hers.

  His kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, yet she felt light as air. A flood of warmth seemed to take over her whole body. She was growing uncomfortable, restless. She wanted something—but what?

  For all her book-knowledge, Prudence knew terribly little about the affairs between men and women. Though she knew the basic facts of physiognomy, she knew nothing of what would really happen during any intimacies with a man.

  This kissing, for instance. She had known what it was. Had even done it herself a few times. But never like this.

  No one had ever told her the physical reactions it would ignite within her trembling body. No one had ever told her that her limbs, and her willpower, would turn to mush. No one had ever told her how she would feel feverish, weak and dizzy. And certainly, no one had ever told her how wonderful it would feel to be held in a man’s arms and kissed absolutely senseless.

  Alfred lowered his mouth and began kissing a trail between her breasts. Prudence felt her heart race alarmingly, but not with fear.

  With something far more frightening.

  Just then, the carriage jolted to a halt.

  Alfred paused, then raised his head and looked around. His hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes blazed with heat as he sat back, running his hands through his hair.

  Prudence was confused. Why had they stopped? And more importantly, why had he stopped?

  Alfred adjusted his jacket and cuffs, saying, “We have arrived, Miss Atwater.”

  “What?” Her mind was muddled. “Where?”

  “At the Atwater School. I promised to see you home, and you are now home,” he said, and his voice seemed to be tinged with frustration.

  He seemed so cool sitting there across from her. Where was the heated angel who had made her melt in his arms only moments ago?

  “I encourage you to arrange yourself,” he said. “The coachman has hopped down, and will soon open the door.”

  Something made her obey him, though it wasn’t conscious thought. She was still too muddled from all the kissing for that. Quickly, she pulled the cloak around her bare shoulders, and covered her head with the hood.

  The door swung open.

  Alfred hopped out onto the street, and then reached in to help her down.

  When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled slightly, and she clutched at Alfred for balance. He walked her to the door, one strong arm about her waist, and his other hand holding hers. In moments they were at the front door, and he turned her to face him.

  Prudence looked up into Alfred’s eyes, which moments ago had been heated with fire, and now were shuttered and unreadable. He made a courtly bow, and chastely kissed her hand.

  “Thank you for allowing me to see you home, Miss Atwater,” he said.

  She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but what it was, she couldn’t say.

  “Consider your debt paid in full,” he said, abruptly heading toward the coach.

  With that, he opened the door and disappeared inside.

  Then the carriage rolled away, leaving Prudence standing at the steps of the Atwater School, as she tried in vain to make sense of what just happened.

  Chapter 9

  Mr. Cage tasted the girl’s lips again. She was putting on a good show, trembling in his lap, clad only in her chemise. He had to give her credit. After all, little Effie was a virgin.

  He had paid top price for her. And her drunken oaf of a father hadn’t seemed to mind. When his pretty young daughter cried out for mercy at being sold to a stranger, the repulsive man had pushed her away. His only concern had been counting Mr. Cage’s gold guineas.

  And now little Effie Sinclair, late of Shropshire, was the ‘Silver Rose’s’ newest acquisition. Cage was certain that the sixteen-year-old beauty would earn back what he’d paid for her within a week.

  A knock sounded on the chamber door.

  “Come in, Mr. Grimes,” he said, knowing exactly who it was, and why he had come.

  The oak door opened, and the tall, thin form of Jeremiah Grimes passed through into Cage’s private rooms.

  Cage always had rooms on the first floor of each of his brothels, usually off the main salon. This one, at the favorite of his clubs, was the height of luxury, boasting zebra-hide rugs, silk draperies from his travels to the Orient, furniture in plush burgundy velvet, and a huge four-poster bed that was, of course, the centerpiece. After all, it was where he did his best work.

  Grimes stepped through the doorway and Cage felt E
ffie tense in his arms. She looked fearfully from one man to the other.

  Cage patted her arm. “Not to worry, my dear. Mr. Grimes has not come for you. He has come to see me on important business.” He pushed her off his lap like an indulgent parent now tired of his child’s company. “Run along, now, Effie. Pierrette will continue your lessons. She is waiting for you upstairs. Go on now, child.”

  He scooted her back through the study and toward the door. She looked over her shoulder at him with those wide, uncertain eyes. He closed the door, then slowly turned to his visitor.

  “Now, Mr. Grimes. You have news?”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “I saw ’er again, tonight. In Drury Lane. Seems to be ’er favorite spot.”

  “Are you certain she’s the one?” Cage asked.

  Grimes nodded, folding his cap in his hands before him, demonstrating that he knew his place.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered. “I talked to a couple o’ girls who said she’d been tryin’ to get them to come home with ’er. To some school or other.”

  “Intriguing. What else?”

  “Said ’er name was Miss Prudence Atwater.”

  Cage leaned back on his desk, running his fingers through his thick silver hair. “And she is the one who has been talking my girls into leaving the streets? She is the one who has been stealing money from me?”

  “Could be, sir,” Grimes said. “Though she did go off with a man last night in a fancy carriage. Looked like ’e was a customer.”

  “Was there a coat of arms on the coach?” he asked.

  “It was hired, sir. No way to tell who it was had ’is pleasure with ’er.”

  “Pity,” Cage said, annoyed. He was not used to Grimes being unable to answer every question with perfect certainty. That was why he had Grimes on the payroll. The man was very, very good at finding things out.

  And if you wanted someone to disappear for awhile, or to disappear forever…he was good at that, too.

  “Find out more, Grimes,” he poured himself a glass of claret. “Look into this school. See if it’s the same girl who runs it. I want to be absolutely sure before we act further. Keep me informed.”

  “Sir,” Grimes said, giving a nod, and then left Cage alone in the study.

  He sat down in the leather wing chair, sipping the claret, taking the time to taste the exquisite flavor. He never rushed such things. He had learned a long time ago to be patient when taking his pleasure.

  Soon, Grimes would have the information he wanted. And then he would carry on with the next stage in his plan. First, they would need irrefutable proof that Miss Atwater was the one responsible for his recent financial losses. And if she was, then she would be taken care of. But first, the chit would be forced to pay back what she owed him.

  And as Cage thought of the endless possibilities in that regard, he couldn’t help but smile.

  * * *

  Prudence walked down the busy street and clutched her cloak closer around her. Unlike her purple silk, this heavy grey wool was very good at keeping out the cold. It would do just fine as she walked to the library.

  It had been a week since she had seen Lord Weston.

  A whole week.

  In all of her life, she had never known days could pass so slowly as they had since the carriage ride with Alfred.

  Before she could stop it, his face materialised in her mind’s eye. She had learned that it was senseless to try to stop Lord Weston from invading her thoughts. He had been doing so quite successfully now every day this week.

  And every night, too.

  Somehow when she closed her eyes in the dark, she was there again with him in the carriage—his strong arms around her, his skilful lips pleasuring hers.

  Prudence side-stepped the lamppost she’d been about to walk into, and continued down the congested street. Yesterday, she had bumped into a doorframe, dropped a heavy stack of books on her foot, and spilled a pot of ink on her skirt, along with all sorts of other clumsy things.

  Everyone at the school was concerned for her health. They were perplexed. This was not the thoroughly unflappable Miss Atwater they knew. Only one person knew the truth of the matter. Dolly had guessed it almost immediately. And there was no use lying to her about it. Dolly could read her mind.

  So Prudence had told her about Lord Weston…Alfred.

  About his kisses.

  About him deeming her debt paid in full.

  Dolly had listened with utmost understanding. The kindly housekeeper had merely patted Prudence’s hand, and said she could talk to her more about it any time she liked.

  Now, as she ambled down Ridgely Street, she found herself wondering what Alfred was doing, this very moment. Was he at one of his clubs, lunching with friends? Was he at Mr. Jackson’s boxing salon, taking a bit of exercise? Was he perhaps, thinking of her, too?

  She wondered if she would ever see him again. She would certainly have future dealings with Lady Weston, to discuss the funding of the school. But would Alfred come to call as well? If he did, what would she say to him?

  Prudence knew this was all terribly foolish. She had been swept off her feet by a man who was skilled at seduction. That was all. For heaven’s sake, she didn’t even like the man.

  She and Lord Weston were completely incompatible. They had opposing views on just about everything.

  She found him infuriating.

  He found her exactly the same.

  And yet, in the carriage…they had been very compatible indeed.

  But the fact remained that he was simply not the man for her. And even if he was the man for her, she wouldn’t want him as a suitor.

  Or a husband.

  Marriage had no place in her future. The Atwater School was her life. And that was just the way she wanted it.

  A husband wouldn’t let her keep operating the school, let alone go searching for streetwalkers dressed as one of them! He would want her to stay at home, play the pianoforte, invite ladies over for tea, and have babies. He would not want her to teach classes in ancient history, read Plato’s ‘Republic’ in Greek, or be more intelligent than he, in any way, shape, or form.

  Once, at one of Lady Abercrombie’s assemblies, Prudence had unintentionally embarrassed a wealthy colonel by knowing more about Alexander the Great’s military strategies than he did.

  Needless to say, he did not ask her to dance—nor did he become her patron. After that, she’d learned to bite her tongue. And she could not, in good conscience, go through life forever biting her tongue. Which is what she would have to do if she married.

  But what about babies, Dolly would ask? Didn’t she want to have babies of her own?

  It was a sacrifice she would have to make, she’d replied to Dolly. And it was worth it, to be able to realize her and Father’s dreams of running their school, and making a difference in the world.

  But there was another reason Prudence had reconciled herself against ever having children. A reason even Dolly didn’t know….

  From a purely scholarly interest, Alfred’s sensual skill intrigued her. She was curious about what other responses he could illicit from her. He’d heated her blood to scorching with the expert touch of his hands and mouth, and yet, she knew there was more. The power of her own desire had surprised her, to say the least.

  She would consult some books on physiognomy, in an effort to understand the biological reasons for such distracting feelings.

  To clear her head, Prudence concentrated on her destination. The library stood only a few blocks away. But as she neared the familiar building, she saw a tall figure waiting by the steps, looking directly at her.

  It was him—the man who watched her in Drury Lane only last week.

  So, she had not been imagining things….

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she frantically searched for somewhere to duck out of sight. Quickly, she stepped into the alley. She picked up her skirt and ran as fast as she could, which, considering she also carried an armload of books, didn�
�t seem fast enough at all. Looking over her shoulder, Prudence saw the man turn the corner, then stop when he saw her.

  He followed in pursuit.

  Fear shot through her anew, and a bolt of energy quickened her step. The skirt of her frock flapped around her knees as she hiked it higher, lengthening her strides as much as she could. The heavy books fell from her arm, and she used both hands to hold her skirt.

  But what did all that matter, when he was getting closer!

  She came to a turn in the alleyway and dashed left, immediately regretting her decision.

  It was a dead end.

  Prudence whirled around, her back against the cold stone wall. There was nowhere to hide. She was trapped. Scanning the ground for a weapon, she swooped down to grab a loose stone, and held it in front of her. If only she had her dagger.

  The man ran past the alleyway, but she soon heard his steps come to a jolting halt. He re-appeared at the corner and came toward her.

  Prudence heard her jagged breathing, half from running, half from fear. She raised the stone so he could see it.

  “Don’t come any closer!” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. “I warn you.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t laugh at her little threat. He just kept the same serious expression as he continued toward her.

  She raised the stone higher. “I mean it, sir! I may not kill you with this, but make no mistake, I will injure you. Of that you may be certain.”

  He regarded her with flinty grey eyes, stepping closer. “Ye better put that down, Miss. ’Afore ye gets hurt.”

  “I’ll smash your skull with this,” Prudence said. “I swear I will!”

  “Be nice, now, Miss Atwater. Ye don’t want to make ’ol Grimesy mad.”

  Her blood went cold. “How do you know my name?”

  The man gave a slimy grin, saying, “Miss Prudence Atwater, proprietress of the Atwater Finishing School for Young Ladies. Oh…I knows all about ye. About ’ow ye takes in the girls who walk the streets at night, and tries to turn ’em into ladies. A very noble endeavour.”

  “What do you want?” Prudence demanded.

  “I’m ’ere to deliver a message from someone…someone who doesn’t like what you’re doing at all. You’re interferin’ with ’is business, ye see?” He jabbed his finger at her. “Stop takin’ those girls off the streets. For if ye don’t, it could be very bad for yer ’ealth. Very bad indeed.”