Grey's Lady

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “Court you? You would not relish the duties and responsibilities of being a New York City society wife. Believe me, your life would be just as luxurious and far more enjoyable as my mistress.”

  “Perhaps. Nevertheless, it’s knowing you wouldn’t that makes the difference. I may be poor—a soiled dove—but I still have my pride.”

  “But you said you didn’t want marriage. You’ve changed your mind?”

  “Maybe… Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice rose on the last words. She closed her eyes and her shoulders rose and fell with her deep breath. “You’ve mixed me up so much I don’t know what I want.”

  “Beth, you’re not talking sense.”

  “You offer me all of this so conditionally, with no care about the consequences to me. The balance of power seems totally on your side.

  “It’s a matter of security? I’ll put your name on the deed.”

  “You’d give it to me outright, simply because you’ve bedded me a few times?”

  “I am proposing a long-term arrangement.”

  “Wouldn’t it be a poor investment? You live in New York.”

  “I spend about a third of my time here on business. I like Philadelphia.” He grinned and took her hand. “I like Philadelphia women even more.”

  She jerked her hand back.

  “Would you prefer another house? Something larger?”

  “Well, I hardly know what I might expect. You were so intent upon your requirements we never did discuss my expectations.”

  Why was she being so damned difficult? Did she think he’d ever made such a generous offer to a woman before?

  “You want more security than a house and you want it up front.” He studied her calm, blue gaze. “Of course you do. You are an intelligent woman. I see no reason to haggle with you. If you accept my terms—”

  “Your terms?” Her face flushed and her eyes sparked.

  “Yes. If you accept my terms, I’ll invest a sum of”—at the affronted look on her face, he impulsively doubled the amount—”fifty thousand dollars, which upon my death will revert to you.”

  “Fifty thousand?” Her mouth fell open.

  His heart thudded hard against his ribcage. He should have said a hundred thousand.

  Damn you, when the stakes are high and the prize worth winning, never bid low.

  Too late. He’d look weak if he offered more now. “It’s more than generous.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Her eyes were wide and her face had gone ashen.

  He didn’t know if that was good or bad, so he clenched his jaw while he wasn’t too far behind.

  “No, it’s no good,” she said with heart-stopping firmness. “Everyone would know.”

  “They would. But as I said, no one would greatly care, so long as we were discreet.”

  “My brother would know.”

  Oh, damn, not back to that again. “Of course he would, but what of it? Doesn’t he want to see you live in comfort?”

  “It would break his heart. He would disown me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “He’d call you out.”

  True, he might. But nothing risked, nothing gained. “If he knows you will be well taken care of, his opinion may change.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I won’t chance it.”

  “You act as if the ground is going to open up and swallow us whole. This isn’t the first time in history a man has ever asked a woman to be his mistress.”

  Her blue eyes met his evenly. “And this isn’t the first time a woman has turned a man down.”

  Chapter Seven

  Grey blinked. Was he hallucinating? He’d offered Beth extravagant—no, outrageous terms. Thrown his heart at her feet. And she had turned him down as casually as someone declining an extra lump of sugar at teatime. Unthinkable. He took a deep breath. Several of them. And he still didn’t trust himself to speak.

  “Besides,” she continued. “They need me to live in their house, to help with the children.”

  Bitter frustration knifed through his guts. Her damned family was the only thing holding her back. She enjoyed being in his bed. She’d enjoy being taken care of outside his bed even better.

  “And I have a young, impressionable niece. I cannot provide such a bad example to her. So please, no more gifts or…” She waved airily. “Whatever you call this.”

  “A carte blanche.” He couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice.

  “Please don’t take it so personally.”

  As he watched her arise and dress, she seemed so calm and unconcerned. He couldn’t tell precisely what he was feeling, except it was burning, raw, and radiated from his chest to lodge in his throat. This was all he would have of her. Furtive love in the afternoon. He was just another stiff cock between her legs. Her fancy of the moment. Awareness of his position shook him to the core.

  She paused in rolling on a stocking. “Must you scowl at me like that?”

  “I need to return home soon. I want this business between us settled.”

  “When you come here next, we can see each other again.”

  “And while I am gone, how shall you find your amusements?”

  She laughed in a cynical tone. “And do you not have at least one bit of fluff stashed away in New York? I shall be a case of out of sight, out of mind.”

  He couldn’t even recall Kate’s pretty face—she was a blur of vibrant red hair and ivory skin. She was no one to him now. Just an obligation he’d have to deal with. But he wouldn’t tell Beth this. It would leave him too vulnerable for her to realise the depth of her hold over him.

  “Would you like to have a house in New York as well?” A gale of renewed energy swept through him. “Will you come there with me?”

  She rolled the stocking up in several jerks. “Certainly not.” Her pale brows drew together and she glanced up. “And, just to be clear, your life when apart from me is no more my affair than mine is yours.”

  “I see. All civilised and sophisticated.” God, he sounded like a jackass.

  As if a mask had fallen away, her eyes were stricken. “I have a duty to my family. Why won’t you understand? I cannot up and follow you about as your leman. And our association must remain private.”

  “Why must it, Beth? So your other lovers won’t know?”

  “You refuse to understand.” Her voice trembled and she closed her eyes, gripping the bed’s edge. “If you truly cared for me, you wouldn’t press me.”

  The uncertainty was intolerable. He would allow this slip of a young woman to manipulate him not one moment more. “Enough! If you won’t commit to me, then—”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Commit?” Crimson colour highlighted her cheekbones. “You demand I commit to you. But you offer nothing of yourself in return. Nothing real.”

  Nothing real? He had offered her a fortune in return for the pleasure of her company and her fidelity. “Beth, you must commit.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Else what?” she snapped.

  “We shall be at an end.”

  Her face froze into a mask of resistance. A nauseating cold in his belly warned him to say something—anything—to repair the moment. But pride pushed the impulse down.

  “Then so be it, sir,” she said. The finality of her tone reverberated in his chest with the force of a pistol’s recoil.

  Chapter Eight

  “Good day, Mr Sexton.” Charlie’s cheerful voice rang out from the other side of the counter.

  Beth’s pencil froze. She jerked her head up from the row of figures she’d been calculating.

  A beam of sunlight cast the hard angles and planes of his face into stark relief, electrifying the blue lights in his coal-black hair. Her heart failed on its next beat. He was even more handsome than in the dreams that had haunted her every night in the two weeks since the awful day when he had put his need for control above his affection for her. Her throat burnt and she swallowed hard, resting the urge to run for the back room, wher
e she could burst into tears.

  It wasn’t fair of him to be here. It was cruel.

  “Mr Sexton, we specialise in working men’s footwear. I suggest a man of your obvious means ought to take his business elsewhere,” she said.

  “I am not here for boots.” He turned to Charlie. “I am here to speak with you, Mr McConnell.”

  Charlie blinked. “Uh…yes, what can I do for you, Mr Sexton?”

  “I beg permission to court your sister.”

  Beth’s breath froze. Charlie hooked his fingers into his apron straps, glancing sideways at her, catching her eye and twittering his fingers on the stained leather. “Goodness, Elizabeth, what do you say to that?”

  His voice was strained and he had gone pale with what must be shock. She half expected him to faint.

  “I think I’d like to hear more of what Mr Sexton has to say,” she replied.

  Grey turned back to her, his silver eyes gleaming with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Will you walk with me, Miss McConnell?”

  * * * *

  Outside, the sunshine was glaring. Seeking refuge in the shade of the shop, she leaned against the red-brick wall.

  He took her hand and that ever-present sensual awareness crackled between them.

  “Once I left Philadelphia, I didn’t spend one single moment at peace with myself.” He brought her hand to his lips, his eyes burning into hers with emotion as he kissed it. “I acted like an ass. I hurt you, and I am sorry.”

  She stared at him, stunned. She would never have dreamt this arrogant, patrician man would apologise to anyone, least of all the soiled dove he’d shared hours of illicit passion with.

  “I admit I have been difficult as well. I owe you an apology in kind,” she said, just to play fair.

  He turned her hand and pressed his lips to the palm. “I hope you can re-learn trust in me. Because, God help me, I think I love you.”

  Shock made her weak and she was grateful for the brick wall supporting her. She could only stare at him, speechless.

  “Don’t you have anything to say to that, you heartless little vixen? I just told you that I think I love you.” His tone was severe but his silver eyes glinted warmly.

  Joy bubbled up from her belly in a laugh as rich as honey. “You think so?”

  He smiled, his eyes lighting up as if his whole soul shone through. “Yes, I very much fear it.”

  “Well.” She tilted her head, a slight smile curling her lips. “I might love you too.”

  “Might you?”

  “I don’t know for sure yet. It will depend on how persuasive your courting is.” She laughed for a moment, then stopped as unbidden awareness of the huge, gaping chasm in their situations intruded on the moment. “But how can we re-learn to trust each other, when we never did trust each other to start with?”

  His expression turned serious. “It won’t happen overnight. We have all our differences to talk over. So much to share and come to an understanding on.”

  No, she decided, she would not push him away with sarcasm, nor would she distract from the moment with sensuality. Instead, she met his gaze steadily, no matter the anxiety quaking through her limbs. “Yes, we certainly do have a lot to sort out.”

  “We’re both going to have to compromise and make sacrifices. But it can happen, if we both want it badly enough and are willing to work together.” He pressed her palm to his cheek. “Are you willing?”

  “Yes.”

  His whole body seemed to relax and his eyes shone again with warmth that was more than warmth. This time, she recognised it for what it was, unbelievable though it might be. He pulled her into his strong arms and they kissed, a long and heated kiss. After some time, they broke for air and she nuzzled her face into his jacket. Inhaling his scent, citrus, spice and something indefinably and indelibly Grey, Beth knew a sense of finally finding home.

  About the Author

  I have always been a daydreamer who told myself stories of love and romance set in other times and places for my own pleasure. Eventually my story worlds became so real, they demanded to be brought out of my imagination and onto the page. It gives me great joy to finally share them with you. I hope you enjoy my story world.

  I am married to my own hero and we share our life with a very quirky calico cat. I have a BA in History and I love to read, both romance and scholarly history, and I listen to a variety of music from classical to reggae. But mostly I am hard at work writing my next story.

  Email: Natasha.blackthorne@yahoo.com

  Natasha loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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