by Carrie Lofty
He didn’t want gratefulness and he didn’t want doubt. He wanted her crying out his name.
With a surge of strength Miles reversed their positions on the bed. Viv was beneath him, her thighs wide. He kissed her then, beginning with her bewitching mouth. He nipped and nuzzled until she laughed. He intensified the kiss, just his mouth over hers, exploring, mating tongue to tongue. His fists he kept tangled in the wild beauty of her unbound hair. She gave him her sighs and her restless noises.
But kissing was simply dry kindling on a fire that already glinted and roared. Miles edged down her neck and soothed tense tendons with each stroke of his tongue. Further down he reached the rounded swells of her breasts and indulged himself only briefly, just a few kisses, until the idea of stroking his shaft between those two full mounds threatened his frayed control.
Like finding an oasis, he finally reached her feminine center. Pale skin glistened and her thighs shifted in a restless dance. He hooked his arms around those limbs, stilling her. He lowered his mouth and tasted.
Viv cried out, then sighed deep and long.
She was honey and heat, sex and whiskey, melting his mind in a vat of sensation. Miles swirled his tongue and found the rhythm that made her whisper his name over and over. Her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer. He kept his mouth pressed firmly against her flesh, his tongue sliding across that most sensitive bud. The moment, when it came, lifted her hips from the bed. Her hoarse gasp echoed through his room.
He had no more to give. His erection was a force of nature now, making demands that only Viv could satisfy. With his elbows still crooked behind her knees, Miles lifted his body and drove into hers. His own cry was guttural and low. He thrust hard, harder, rutting like something mindless.
He knew better, but he couldn’t stop. Dimly, with his sense of hearing blunted by the drum of his heartbeat, he heard Viv gasp once again. Her inner muscles clenched the length of his shaft and her fingernails clawed deep into his buttocks.
A pinwheel of pleasure set fire to every nerve, sparking and flashing from head to heel. He grunted, came, and collapsed with a breathless groan.
Minutes later, roused from the black by the swirl of Viv’s gentle petting along his temple, he struggled to make his bones and muscles work in concert.
“Is this a little gray here, Miles?”
“Me? Never.”
“I like it.”
He found himself praying then, although what deity might listen to a wastrel like him remained a great unknown. God, don’t let this end. I’ll be good. I promise.
Slowly he pulled off of Viv and rolled clear. She looked wanton, wicked, all rumpled silk and untidy hair. A bite mark he didn’t remember inflicting was a dusky pink crescent on the upper slope of her breast.
“Will you leave?” he asked.
“I said I wouldn’t.” Her eyes widened. “Not tonight, I mean.”
“Of course. One romp doesn’t mean forever, does it?”
He regretted it as soon as he said it. Unresolved bitterness wouldn’t let him keep a civil tongue.
Viv’s smile, however, seemed inclined toward reconciliation. She pushed off the mattress and held out her hands. They stood belly to belly, gazes lost in one another. “It doesn’t have to,” she said softly. “But it could. If we want it to. We make the rules, remember?”
Miles stood gobsmacked as she turned her back, once again offering the intimate task of removing her gown. Laces and tapes and buttons eventually gave way to the damp cotton of her chemise and long naked legs. He wasn’t above indulging his imagination once more as she bent over the head of the bed and drew back the covers. Her backside was a work of art, one made even more erotic by the rose-hued finger marks he’d put there. But then she was gone, swallowed by yards of sumptuous sheets.
Miles wanted a drink. Needed it. He didn’t think it possible to need anything after having just experienced such a satisfying encounter.
I love you, Viv.
What would she do if he said it aloud? Would she smile like she had when waltzing? Or would her brows lift and her eyes go wide, that expression of polite distance he’d come to dread?
“Aren’t you cold?” She’d poked out of the bedding just enough to extinguish the nearest candle.
He shook free of his languor, blew out the other candle and slid into the bed. Her body was smooth and warm. Sleek limbs melted over his like chocolate in the sun, just as she had after her nightmare. Only now they were sated and completely nude. A faint trace of moonlight limned every surface.
Slowly, he exhaled. This was enough. For now. They had come so far and had months left in Kimberley. He’d be the man she needed, no matter how long it took.
“What will we do about Elden?” she asked, her breath soft across his chest. “He won’t forgive my slap.”
Quiet laughter rumbled out of his throat. “You slapped him, too?”
“I did.”
“That’s my girl.” The intimacy and possessiveness of that statement struck him afterward. Only, Viv didn’t stiffen or pull away. She snuggled more deeply into his embrace. “We’ll deal with him in the morning. Think nothing more of it tonight.”
But still she didn’t sleep.
“Something on your mind, Vivie?”
“Mmm.”
“Now’s the time for it. You have my undivided attention.”
She propped her head on one arm and gazed down at him. Her face was made of shadow, her hair of silver. “What happened the night of the Saunders’ gala? After we finished?”
“Will you believe my answer?”
She swallowed. “I’ll try to.”
Miles stared up at the ceiling. He curled her to his chest and held her slender shoulder a little too tightly. She petted his chest hair and breathed softly against his throat, her mouth nestled there. This was harder than he’d expected, but he would not hide what he felt. Not anymore. If he was asking her to trust his reply, he needed to honor her with the complete honesty she deserved.
“You scared me that night,” he said into the darkness. “Every challenge and every dare, you leveled me with a look. Just . . . bored of it all, even after we’d ravaged each other behind the staircase. I knew it then, that you were at the end of your rope.”
She had gone still as a hunted rabbit. “And where you woke up?”
“The Duke of Hereford’s youngest son suggested a round of cards. It seemed at the time like the perfect escape route. Why take you home and risk everything by making it a real marriage—working hard for what we wanted—when I could be as useless as ever? Cards led to more drink, and drink led to a house of ill repute. It also led me to being sick and falling unconscious on an extremely tacky purple velvet settee. I awoke after noon and even in such a state, I wondered if you would be gone when I got home.”
She kissed the notch between his collarbones and dipped her tongue inside. Surprised heat shot from head to toe. “We had no trust.”
“Now you’re the one being generous tonight, Vivie. I gave you no reason to trust me. That was the way of it.”
“But then we were apart for so long and . . . I wouldn’t. That is . . .”
“Are you asking if I’ve been unfaithful?”
She nodded silently.
He was thankful then—thankful for whatever latent sense of honor had kept him out of any other woman’s bed. He was thankful because he could tell Viv the truth.
“I swear it,” he said, his voice low and calm. “There’s been no one else, not even when you had cause to assume the worst. I recited my vows carelessly, yet those vows have bound me. I was many things, Vivie—drunk, irresponsible, obnoxious. But I’ve never been unfaithful.”
She let out a long exhale that sounded very much like the relief he felt. “Then what do we do?”
He stroked her upper arm as if she were the one shivering. But it was Miles who quivered on the inside. They were on the cusp of something new. New could be good, just after it finished being petrify
ing.
“I want to change. I want to be the man you can depend on.”
Viv looked down at him from amid a halo of pale tangled hair. She was Venus personified, a living goddess that fate had decided might be his. What a ridiculous fool he’d been, waiting so long to be worthy of her.
“You’ve kept your side of the bargain admirably. More than I could’ve hoped. You have been the man I could depend on, when no one else would’ve dared.” Slim fingers worked down his chest, following the line of hair toward his groin. Firm, beautiful breasts pillowed against him in an unashamed display of her body’s lush bounty. “Tell me it wasn’t for my enthusiasm alone.”
He slid his hands into that lush curtain of hair and brought her face near. Against her lips he whispered, “It was for you, Vivie. All of you.”
Their mouths met just as she found his member with a sure grip. His erection surged in her hand. Blood and hope and relief spun together. He fused them in his kiss and rolled his breathtaking wife onto her back.
“Then maybe,” she said between gasps, “it’s time to start again.”
At the sound of rustling papers, Viv opened her eyes. Frankly, it wasn’t how she had imagined greeting the morning. Ideas of Miles nuzzling her awake and making love to her in the sleepy half haze of dawn had been more probable—and more enjoyable. But he was sitting up in bed reviewing notes from a stack on his bedside table.
Had he often done as much studying as she did? A warm shiver of happiness tickled up from her belly. Only, he saw the world in distinctly different ways. Learning those ways would be a joy for the rest of her days.
A future. They had talked of a real future.
That happy tickle threatened to turn to fear. So much could still go wrong. She no longer doubted Miles, but her own worth. If he discovered the truth of her birth . . . Would he want her then? It was all well and good for a nobleman to cultivate a reputation for vice, but could he bear to know that his wife had been born to such a dismal life?
The chance was worth taking. She peeked up at him through half-lidded eyes. His sun-touched hair was tousled. A serious expression shaped his mouth, his jaw, the corners of his eyes. The gathering dawn caught the brown of his irises and lit them with a sensual golden fire. Bare-chested, he radiated that effervescent combination of physical strength and confidence. Perhaps she should have been startled by the faint scratch and bite marks that revealed the path she’d traveled from his throat to his groin. Instead she grinned at herself. He was her territory to claim.
“When you’re done consuming me with your gaze,” he said dryly, still examining the papers in his lap, “I have something to show you.”
Viv giggled and buried her face in the pillow that carried both of their scents. Man and woman together. Husband and wife. At that moment, she knew she would do anything to keep him now—and that meant keeping her secret, too.
Miles caught her by the shoulder and rolled her onto her back. “I mean it, Lady Bancroft. My brain can only sustain a train of thought for so long, especially when presented with such a delectable alternative.”
“What alternative might that be?”
“Worshipping you from head to toe until neither of us can think ever again.”
A hot jolt settled beneath her sternum and wet her inner thighs. That he could manage such a thing with words alone was only intimidating in that he used his mouth, his hands, his glorious manhood to even more potent effect. “I like the sound of that.”
“Yes, but not exactly the makings of a profitable company. Come figure this with me.”
“You really are determined on this point, aren’t you?” She sat up and dragged the sheet with her, covering her breasts.
Miles eyed the move with obvious disdain. “If I’m the naked object of your unabashed appreciation, I demand reciprocity.” He tugged the bedding down until her breasts were fully exposed. “I could become a dedicated entrepreneur if this is how we conduct our morning meetings.”
Although she blushed as furiously as humanly possible, Viv remained still. Her nipples tightened, from both the slight chill and his blatant stare. She snuggled against his side, curious now what would be so interesting as to hold his attention, even when making love was the alternative.
“These are Adam’s notes about what he’s discovered among the servant class,” he said. “That’s where I began, because I remember him mentioning something about Neil Elden and the Opsberger Brothers’ Brokerage. Turns out he held a position on their board of directors and bought them out last year when their loans came due.”
Viv perked up, their nudity briefly forgotten. “He owns another brokerage? But still does business with us? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Worse than that. He owns three brokerages.”
“And no one knows this?”
“Well, he’s made it deuced hard to follow. Covert stock exchanges, silent partnerships.” He offered up various snippets of proof: business records, company statements, and Adam’s meticulous notes. “But the process is always the same. He sits on a board of directors until, by chance or by force, the business falls into disrepair and he gobbles it up.”
“How did Adam manage all of this?”
“I don’t ask. Better that way.”
“Well, obviously Elden intends some sort of horizontal monopoly.”
Viv wished she had a daguerreotype of Miles’s baffled expression. She stifled a chuckle to save his pride.
“Explain, my dear,” he said with a tight grin. “Show me what your father stuffed into that brain of yours.”
Feeling powerful and cheeky, she slipped out of bed and collected Miles’s clothes from where they’d been discarded the night before. His puzzled expression only increased, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. A naughty smile tipped the corners of his sinful mouth. “Or tidy up the room while completely naked,” he said. “That works, too.”
“Both.” She laid out his clothes on the bed, from socks to top hat, in the shape of a man. “Now, imagine that all your company sells are complete suits. How many customers will you have?”
“For complete suits? Nothing else? Probably not so many.”
“But those who did make purchases would bring in a great deal of revenue. My father and another Scots rival of his, a man named Carnegie, believed you could do this with business. Own every aspect of production. In this case, outfitting a man. Carnegie has ambitions to do it with steel. Own the coke, the ore, the railroads, the refineries—so that the price of the final product is his to determine.” She shrugged. “It goes vertically, top to bottom.”
“Like this suit.” Pausing, he pulled back the covers and urged her to climb back into the warmth of his bed. Viv complied eagerly. She wrapped around him, soaking him in, while his hands found her backside and her breasts. All over. Every inch just . . . his.
“But Elden is only buying up brokerages,” he said.
“So now imagine your clothing shop only sells ascots. In fact, it was the only business in the whole of Kimberley that sells ascots, because you’ve bought out all the competition. You could charge any price, and a man who wished to wear a complete suit would need to pay it.”
“Cecil Rhodes is determined to own the entire Hole. Perhaps Elden sees the future. The only way he’ll be able to compete is to determine which diamonds make it to Europe, and at what commissions.”
“Then he needs rid of us.”
“Well, that certainly isn’t going to happen.”
Viv stopped petting his chest. Her fingers rested in the spaces between his ribs. “I feel like such a fool.”
“About what?”
“Elden. You’re a much better judge of character than I am.”
Miles kissed her hair, then rolled her back and gazed down. She could fall into his earthen brown eyes and live there forever. She would be safe there now. “I think we both saw what we wanted to see,” he said. “I saw an ambitious, successful, passably handsome man spending too much time with my wife. Wh
at conclusion was I left to draw but an uncomplimentary one?”
“And me? What explains that I was willing to think so highly of him?”
“Because you miss your father.”
He held her when she shivered through a sweep of unexpected grief, then made love to her when she ached for more. Never once did she doubt he would do just that.
Twenty-four
And here you can see the best-quality carbons. There are literally thousands, my lord.”
Ike Penberthy sat across from Miles in the upstairs office at Christie Brokerage, explaining the results of his weeks spent cataloguing. Columns of notes regarding size, quantities, and grades lined sheet after sheet of paper.
Miles assumed by default that Penberthy had assembled a similar system in the crawl space for keeping the piles neatly ordered. He was simply that meticulous, but not in Smets’s grating, submissive way. No matter what nerves he might feel in presenting his findings, Penberthy did not fidget with the brim of the hat he held in his lap.
“Excellent work.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
No fawning or excessive sense of indebtedness. Another good sign. He had combed his hair, trimmed his curly blond beard, and dressed neatly for this meeting. More than mere grooming, he held Miles’s gaze with the confidence of a man who knew his worth. Once given the opportunity to prove himself, he had done so with gusto.
Miles no longer thought to pay him well because of some altruistic concern for his wife and family. After all, there were literally thousands of people in Kimberley living with similar burdens. No, this was about honoring a job well done.
“I want you to consider assuming control of this new wing of our business’s model,” he said. “Smets obviously does very well with the brilliants, but you would be in charge of the carbons. All decisions about their market value, how much to pay the mines for what they sell—this would be your domain.” He peered at the man, judging each reaction. Wider eyes. Nostrils that flared over a quick intake of air. But also a straighter back and shoulders that squared to assume new weight. “Do you think you can manage?”