Hutchins opened the door and she swept inside Grayson’s private gallery. He was standing at the tall window, looking at the gardens below. He turned at her entrance and smiled. He looked magnificent in a navy jacket, snowy cravat, buff colored trousers, and polished Hessians. Candles glowed from the chandelier and candelabras on end tables around the room. In the corner was a table for two with snowy white linen and fine china.
Grayson held out his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to our dinner, Eliza.”
She came forward and placed her gloved hand in his. “So have I.”
He led her to the table and held out her chair. “I thought it would be fitting for us to dine here.” Candlelight flickered off the priceless paintings.
His fingers lingered on her shoulders as she sat. She shivered in awareness and inhaled the distinctive scent of his shaving soap. He took the seat across from her and she was struck with a sudden nervousness.
The door opened and two footmen entered carrying silver covered trays. A plate of venison and fresh vegetables was placed before them, and her crystal goblet was filled with expensive wine. The food was delicious, but she ate without tasting. Her senses were attuned to the man before her.
He raised his wine glass. “A toast to our success.”
She raised her glass. “To finding the Rembrandt.”
She sipped the wine and then lowered it to find him staring at her lips. “You never told me what happened after the night of the ball. Was the painting in fact recovered and returned to its rightful owner, the Duke of Desford?”
“Yes. Thomas Begley, the duke’s man of affairs, is a shrewd man. He knew he couldn’t just accuse a viscount of knowingly purchasing a stolen painting, so he approached Pickens and told him that an art dealer who was arrested claims he sold the stolen Rembrandt to him. Pickens immediately panicked and claimed he did not know the painting was stolen. The Rembrandt has been returned to the duke.”
“That’s brilliant.”
Dessert arrived, a sweet tart with a light coating of powered sugar. Grayson’s dark eyes missed no detail as she ate the delicious confection and licked her lips.
He stood and held out his hand. “Come.”
She rose and took his hand. He motioned to a velvet settee before the window and she thought he wanted her sit, but he shook his head and pointed behind the settee. She saw it then.
The Jan Wilden forgery.
“As promised. The painting is yours. I’ll have it wrapped and will personally deliver it to you tomorrow morning.”
She never doubted he would keep his promise. Yet a feeling of intense gratitude welled within her.
“What will you do with it?” he asked.
“Burn it.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “I hate to see art destroyed, even a forgery.”
“It shall never end up in another collector’s gallery again,” she vowed.
He nodded, and she knew he understood how strongly she felt about the painting. “You’re one of the most admirable women I have ever known,” he said.
She looked up at him in surprise. “Admirable? Need I remind you of my family’s history?”
“Those are your father’s sins, not yours,” he said firmly. “I told you I was wrong to blame you for his past deeds. You are a hard working shopkeeper, a woman of worth who has shouldered the burdens of caring for your sisters.”
His words sent a thrill through her. Could it be true? Could he see her for who she truly was and not as the daughter of his nemesis?
“There’s something else,” Grayson said. He looked eager now and she was caught up in his excitement. He pointed to the Icarus engraving that she had originally admired the first time she’d walked into his private galley. “This is yours.”
“Pardon?”
“This is my gift to you. I want you to have it.”
Her mouth gaped. The engraving was worth a small fortune, but it was the gift of art that truly captured her senses.
“Why?” she asked.
“Ever since you first admired the work, it has reminded me of you.”
Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm. She understood the vast differences between them. Socially, economically…morally, if one considered her family history. But now, none of it seemed to matter. Her eyes were open. Wide open. And she wanted this man.
Longed for him.
Their time together was limited—had come to an end. Was she willing to spend the rest of her life wondering what if?
The answer was a resounding no.
She was filled with a strange inner excitement as she studied the sensuality of his features. Just once, she wanted something for herself. One night that would last her a lifetime of memories. “I want more, my lord.”
His brows drew downward. “Another painting?”
She stepped close and licked her lips. “No. More of what I experienced in your arms,” she whispered.
His dark eyes reflected glimmers of candlelight as he held her gaze. “Eliza, be sure of what you ask. I won’t be able to stop this time.”
“I’m sure,” she breathed. “I want you.”
He cradled the side of her face and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her pulse quickened. She’d waited so long for his kiss tonight. Her lips parted in invitation and she rose on tiptoe to meet his lips with her own. He kissed her slowly and leisurely, his movements igniting a flame of desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck and arched forward in sweet invitation.
His kiss changed and he pulled her tightly against him from chest to thigh. All her senses heightened, and she moaned in approval. He gave her a passionate, openmouthed kiss, then his strong hands grasped her around the waist and he took two steps forward.
She found herself pressed against the wall between two paintings, just like an instance long ago. But this time she welcomed him, welcomed the thrust of his tongue, the pressure of his muscular chest against her sensitive breasts. She clung to him, her fingers grasping his broad shoulders. He flicked his tongue across the seam of her full lower lip, then reclaimed her mouth as if he was a dying man and she was his salvation.
He turned her to face the wall and swept her hair aside to place a hot kiss on her nape. She shivered at the touch of his lips on her neck, and desire pulsed through her in a dizzying rush. The heat from his body wrapped around her back as she pressed her palms against the cool plaster. Her breath caught as she felt his fingers undo the fastenings of her gown. She longed to feel her naked flesh pressed to his. The tiny row of buttons loosened, and her beautiful new gown slid down her body to pool at her feet. Her shift and corset followed, leaving her clad in only her silk stockings and frilly garters.
She was naked and he was fully clothed. She should be ashamed, but she didn’t care, her need was so great. She wasn’t a lady and she had eagerly made the choice to be with him. Then all thought fled as he kissed her back, licked each of her vertebrae down, down, down, until he reached her bottom and placed a hot kiss on her derriere.
She sucked in a breath. He was on his knees, cupping her breasts in his large palms and she’d never felt so vulnerable and hot at the same time. Her body cried out for his touch, for something she knew he alone possessed to give her.
He turned her around, sucked her breast into his mouth and flicked his tongue across her nipple. Searing sensations radiated from her breast to the aching heat between her thighs. She closed her eyes to savor the pleasure. He moved to her other breast and she felt she would go mad with need. He kissed a path down to her stomach, twirled his tongue in her navel, and blew on the patch of hair between her legs. Then he licked her hot, aching core.
Sweet heaven! Grasping fistfuls of his dark hair, she thought to pull him away, but at the first stroke of his hot tongue against her sensitive bud at the crest of her sex, her knees buckled.
His strong hands held her around her waist as he looked up. “I have you. I won’t let you fall.”
He lowered his head and continued his onslaught. He licked a
nd laved her until she was quivering with need and her inhibitions fled. Her entire being centered on what his skilled mouth was doing to her. Her body tightened like a bow, and she was poised on a precipice of pleasure. With a last flick of his tongue, she hurtled into oblivion from an explosive climax. Gasping for breath, she sagged against him.
He stood and held her tight as her breathing slowed. At last she opened her eyes. His gaze was dark with passion and his body taut with need.
“I’ve wanted to do that to you since the first time I sat beside you at the Tutton auction,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Truly? I had no idea.”
He brushed her forehead with his lips. “I know. I’ve had erotic dreams of you in my bed, and having you beside me without touching you has driven me to near madness.”
She boldly met his eyes. “Show me more, Grayson.”
“God, yes.” Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the settee beneath the window. The velvet fabric was soft and inviting against her naked skin.
Beyond half-closed eyed she saw the moon and stars through the window. She was aware of a rustle of clothing and watched as he tugged his cravat from his shirt points and unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was beautifully muscled with swirls of hair and a trail that ran down his flat abdomen to disappear beneath the waistband of his trousers. He pushed his trousers down his hips, and her gaze lowered.
His manhood jutted out long and hard. She felt a moment of unease at his size. She wasn’t completely ignorant about what transpired between a man and a woman. She just didn’t think he would be so big or that her body could accommodate him.
“Your body was made for me, for this,” he said.
His dark gaze was so hungry and full of raw need that her heart lurched in her chest and her apprehension dissipated. She lowered her gaze once again, now fascinated by the size and length of him. She reached out to touch him. He was hardness encased in velvet. She slid her palm up the thick column and her thumb traced the head of his erection. He gave a strangled groan.
Placing a knee on the settee he lowered himself atop her. The feel of skin against skin set her aflame. Then she felt the tip of his rock-hard shaft slide over her aching flesh. She instinctively arched her hips.
“Easy,” he murmured. “I want to go slow. Make this good for you.”
Slow? She was too far gone and desperate for what he could give her. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, until she was wild with need. Her nails dug into his buttocks, urging him on until he groaned in pure male satisfaction and thrust deep. She cried out against his neck.
He immediately stilled, hot and throbbing inside her. His body invaded hers as his gaze seemed to penetrate her private thoughts.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He eased himself slowly out of her body. She thought he meant to leave her, but then he slid back inside at a deliciously slow pace. The possessive fullness was still there, but so was the pleasure. He increased his tempo and her hips rose of their own accord to meet his. She gripped his shoulders, watched his beautiful face through half-closed eyes.
Then he reached down between their bodies to stroke her sensitive bud and she shivered. Her body took over and she lost all thought but that of pleasure. Her climax built to a crest as he kept up his steady, powerful rhythm. Passion rose in her like the hottest fire, setting her body ablaze. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rode the wave until she cried out as she was roused to the peak of desire, then hurled beyond into ecstasy.
His head fell forward, his breathing labored. Once, twice more he thrust within her, and then he stiffened and withdrew from her body as his seed spurted across her belly.
Eliza held him to her, their breathing labored. His breath warmed her cheek and she stroked his back. Love coursed through her and she knew what had transpired between them was an earth-shattering experience and she’d never feel the same for another man.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Grayson rolled to the side of the settee, careful not to crush Eliza beneath his weight. As his body recovered from an explosive climax, he struggled to get his equally ravaging thoughts under control.
Never had he experienced such great sexual satisfaction. Not with Leticia or his prior liaisons.
Only with Eliza Somerton.
And she had been a virgin.
“You’re beautiful in your passion,” he said gruffly.
She blushed and he found it arousing. His eyes were drawn to her magnificent breasts. The strawberry tips made his mouth water to taste her. His fascination was far from over.
He’d just taken her virginity. And damn if he didn’t want her again.
He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her. Her lids fluttered and her breathing was slow and easy. He drew his fingers down the smooth skin of her arm, unable to keep from touching her.
“Stay the night with me,” he said.
“I cannot. My sisters will worry.”
“Next time, then—”
A rap on the door stopped him short. Grayson scowled. He’d left strict instructions that they not be disturbed after dessert was served.
He quickly donned his trousers and cracked the door to see Hutchins. The butler was clearly nervous and shifted from side to side.
“What is it?” Grayson asked.
“Lady Sara is asking for you, my lord.”
“Sara? My sister is supposed to be spending the night at a friend’s home.”
“She has returned early and is in the kitchen eating scones with Cook,” Hutchins said.
Grayson let out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Damn. He had arranged it so that Sara would not be home. Did she have a spat with her friend?
His attention returned to Eliza. “I’m sorry. Sara was excited to spend time with her former school friend, Miss Abigail Evers, the girl she saw when we all went to Gunter’s.”
“I remember.” Eliza rose and retrieved her dress. She bent over as she slid the garment up her legs, giving him a delectable view of her derriere. Desire pumped through his veins.
“Thank you for an unforgettable evening,” she said over her shoulder.
That was it? She was dismissing him?
If she thought it was over between them she was mistaken. “Eliza—”
She smiled at him. “Please go see to Sara. She mustn’t know of my presence. Meanwhile, I’ll wait here.”
…
Eliza paced the gallery for a full five minutes after Grayson departed. His lovemaking had been fiercely passionate and had touched her soul. More amazingly, he’d admitted that he no longer judged her for her father’s criminal past. He saw her for who she strived to be—not the eldest daughter who inherited Jonathan Miller’s morals and legacy.
She wished they had met under different circumstances. If her father had never turned into a criminal and remained a legitimate painter, perhaps she would have met Grayson at a Royal Academy exhibition. Or an art gallery. Or even a ball. What if they had a chance at a future?
Cease daydreaming, she chided herself. She should be grateful she’d experienced him for one night, however brief.
A sickening feeling of despair struck her. After Amelia’s painting was returned, there was no need to see him again.
She breathed heavily. Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. Sara’s interruption may have been for the best. Common sense dictated that Eliza should leave before they shared more intimacy that put her heart at perilous risk. Taking deep gulps of air, she garnered the strength to search for her reticule.
Footsteps sounded outside the room, and Grayson opened the door and slipped inside. “Sara’s fine. Her friend has a cold, and Sara left so that she may recover. I apologize for the interruption to our evening.”
“I’m glad nothing is amiss with your sister,” Eliza said.
Grayson’s eyes raked her
and lowered to the reticule clenched in her fist.
“You’re leaving,” he said simply.
“I must.”
“Stay with me. I can offer you so much.” His voice was low, husky.
A knot rose in her throat. What was he saying? How could she stay with him? “I would never leave my sisters.”
“That’s not what I mean. We can still be together.”
Her heart pounded so loud she was certain he could hear it. “You mean as lovers.”
“Yes.”
His eyes held hers, earnest and hot. She shivered at the scorching heat.
Could she do it? Could she become his mistress? Could she stay with him while duty required he marry a proper lady of his station?
A woman like Lady Kinsdale.
Eliza thought of Lady Kinsdale’s cruel, but truthful words: He’ll never offer you marriage. You must know you are just a bit of bed sport to him.
She already feared losing her heart to Grayson. Could she be his lover and further explore her sensual side without risk?
The answer was a resounding no.
Then there was the issue of her parent. Grayson may desire her as his mistress, but what about his vows for justice? Did he still want her father’s neck in a noose? Did Grayson care enough about her to let the past go?
“What about my father?”
He stiffened. “What about him?”
“Let there be honesty between us. Do you still want to find Jonathan Miller and see him tried for his crimes?”
“What does that have to do with us?” he said tersely.
“Everything. I have come to suspect that finding my father was your utmost concern all along. But I also believed that you truly wanted to find the Rembrandt and that you do not wish me harm.”
“I don’t wish you harm,” he insisted.
“But my father?”
Dark eyes stared down at her, probing her soul. “It’s true I’ve hunted Jonathan Miller for years and have a burning need for justice. But you must understand that others came to me for aid as well. They lost fortunes and I tried to help them, promised them justice, but Miller slipped through my fingers time and time again.”
At the simmering anger in his tone, a sudden disturbing thought came to her. “Did your plans for vengeance against Jonathan Miller include seducing his daughter?”
An Artful Seduction Page 19