This was Old Bea? Lilly had been expecting someone...well, older. But despite her confident manner and the wealth of knowledge glimmering in her friendly brown gaze, Bea couldn’t have been more than twenty.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Bea. But I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding.” She smiled apologetically. “You see, I’m going to be leaving soon and-”
“Leavin’?” Bea blinked. “Now why would ye go and do a foolish thing like that?”
Why indeed, a little voice said slyly.
Oh do shut up, Lilly thought crossly. To Bea she said, “Because - well, to be quite honest, because Bran is a rake.” Without going into great detail, it was the simplest explanation she could possibly give.
“So is every man and dog alive, lovie. Now lift yer arms so I can get yer waist. Cor, you’re a tiny little thing, aren’t ye? Keep tryin’ to leave weight myself, I do, but I’ve an awful keening for buttered scones. The way they melt on your tongue...la,” she sighed. “It’s sinful, it is.”
“You don’t understand,” Lilly said even as she obediently raised her arms above her head. “The only reason I’m in London is because of a rake. I didn’t know he was a rake at the time, of course, but-”
“But ‘e wooed ye and worshipped ye and then left ye high and dry, did ‘e?”
“Why yes.” Lilly blinked. “Yes he did. How did you know that?”
“The people might change, but the story is always the same, lovie. I’m sorry ye got caught up with a blackguard. ‘E must have been a right bastard to walk on such a fine lady as ye. But that’s life, ain’t it?” Bea shrugged. “Ye can put your arms down now.”
Lilly lowered her arms. “If you know what I am talking about, then surely you must understand why I cannot stay here.”
“Can’t say as I do, lovie. Hold this on yer shoulder.” Handing her one end of the sewing tape, Bea knelt down and stretched the other end all the way to the floor. Muttering something under her breath, she popped back up and shook out her skirts. “There. That should do it. I’ll get the girl’s workin’ today, and ye’ll be struttin’ around town like a bleedin’ princess afore the end o’ the week. Do ye have any hats?”
“Hats? No, I-”
“Gloves?”
“I’m afraid-”
“La,” Bea said with a sorrowful shake of her head. “Ye are in a sorry state, aren’t ye? The second Bran returns I want ye to insist he take ye to Madame Fountaine’s. Expensive as a French-speakin’ whore, she is, but ye won’t find any finer accessories in all of London.”
Lilly was beginning to feel dizzy. “That won’t be necessary. And neither will any dresses. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, Bea, but as I said-”
“Yer leaving,” the seamstress interrupted. “Aye, I heard ye the first time.”
“Then you must understand-”
“The only thing I understand is ye must be out o’ yer gourd to want to leave a fine bloke like Bran. Has ‘e struck ye?”
“No, of course not,” Lilly said, appalled that Bea would even suggest such a thing.
“Taken ye against yer will?”
“No.” She thought of their kiss. “I, ah, have been quite willing.”
“Threatened ye, then.”
“No. Nothing like-”
“Tried to sell ye to a brothel?”
“No! He’s been nothing but kind to me.”
“And yet ye can’t wait to fly out o’ here like a bird from its nest.”
“Only because I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I can’t fall in love with a rake. I can’t,” Lilly insisted when Bea merely smiled.
“Ah, lovie. Bless yer heart.” The seamstress’s expression was both amused and vaguely pitying. “Can’t ye see ye already have?”
“Ye look like you’re a thousand miles away, lass.”
Lilly paused with her spoon halfway to her lips, a sheepish smile crossing her face. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About me? Aye,” Bran said smugly when a light flush stole across her cheeks. “That’s what I thought.”
They were having supper in the dining room; a generous three-course meal comprised of lamb stew, roasted chicken breast topped with a creamy artichoke sauce, sauteed onions, and bread fresh from the oven. It was the finest food Lilly had eaten in years and she’d hardly tasted a bite, her mind consumed with her conversation with Bea from earlier in the day.
The seamstress was wrong. She had to be. Lilly wasn’t in love with Bran. She wasn’t! But if that was completely true, why couldn’t she stop thinking about their kiss? Or the warm glow she felt whenever he looked at her? Or the way her pulse raced whenever he touched her? She kept telling herself that it was just lust. That it would pass. That she’d come to her senses soon enough. But what if she didn’t? What if she really had fallen in love with another rake?
Impossible, her head scoffed. You hardly know the man.
Romantic, her heart sighed. Like something out of a fairy tale.
Except Lilly knew how fairy tales really ended, and it wasn’t happily-ever-after.
“Bea came by today while you were out.” Bran had been gone for the better part of the afternoon, returning just before dinner. He hadn’t offered to tell her where he’d been, and she hadn’t asked. “I assumed we’d being going to her shop.”
Bran shrugged. “I thought this would be easier for ye.”
“I really don’t need any new dresses, and I will be-”
“Paying me back in full. Aye, lass.” He sipped his wine. “I heard ye the first three times.”
“You may have heard me, but it seems you didn’t listen.” Her fingers drummed anxiously across the table. “What are your intentions, Bran?”
One tawny brow slowly lifted as he set his glass down. “My intentions?”
“Yes. Your intentions. With me.” She’d never asked the question of Doyle, having assumed she already knew the answer. Given how terribly wrong she’d been, it wasn’t a mistake she intended on repeating. “You rescued me from a - a very undesirable situation, for which I’m incredibly grateful. And you’ve been more than generous in allowing to stay in your home and feeding me and clothing me. But I’m not a stray dog.”
Bran frowned. “I never said ye were.”
“Which means,” she continued, “you must expect something in return. Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Do I…” His voice trailed away, and for the first time Lilly had the distinct pleasure of seeing his cheeks fill with color. “What the devil kind of question is that?” he scowled.
“An honest one.” Clasping her fingers together before they drilled a hole through the table, she dropped them into her lap. “I - I’ve been down this road before, as shameful as it is to admit it. I know what is going to happen.”
“Aye?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. Candlelight flickered across the taut line of his jaw, illuminating a day’s worth of dark blond bristle. His hair was tousled, as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and he’d discarded his jacket and waistcoat in favor of a plain linen shirt that was unbuttoned past his throat. “And what is that?”
Lilly reached for her wine. “Our affair will be pleasant...for a time. And for a time, you’ll say and do all of the right things. But then you’ll become resentful of me, and cruel, and...and other things.” She stared blindly down into her glass. “You’ll hurt me, either by accident or design” Her gaze lifted to find him watching her, his blue eyes unreadable. “And I don’t want to be hurt again,” she whispered.
“Do I strike ye as a bitter, resentful person?” He uncrossed his arms.
“Well no,” Lilly admitted. “But-”
“A person can’t become what they’re not, love. A person is who they are.”
“But that’s precisely my point,” she said earnestly. “You are who you are, and I can’t expect you to change.”
“And who am I?”
“A rake.” She brought the wine
to her lips. Took a small, measured sip. It was difficult to speak with such blunt honesty, but she knew it was for the best. Better they lay their cards on the table now rather than in two months when he’d already grown weary of her. “You’re a rake, Bran.”
“That I am,” he said simply. “I don’t bother to deny it. I’m a rake, and a rogue, and a scoundrel. But one thing I’m not is a bastard, Lilly.” Reaching his arm across the table, he gently loosened her viselike grip on the long, elegant stem of the wineglass and squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry ye’ve been hurt. Ye dinna deserve it, and ye did nothing wrong.”
The words, for all they were quietly spoken, rang in Lilly’s ears like church bells. She bit her lips as tears pricked the corners of her eyes, biting down so fiercely she tasted blood.
“I...I was young and foolish. I saw what I wanted to see instead of what was really there, and I paid dearly for my naiveté. But I’m not the same girl I once was, Bran.” Tears clung to her lashes as she lifted her chin. “And I won’t make the same mistake again. I - I like you.” Far more than I should. “There’s no use in pretending otherwise. So if I am going to be your mistress, I need things between us to be clear from the beginning.”
“Is that what ye want then?” he said huskily, his thumb sweeping across the inside of her wrist where her pulse scrambled to keep up with the erratic beat of her heart. “To be my mistress?”
“I…” For an instant, she allowed herself to imagine the impossible. A quaint village church. A flowing white dress. Flowers in her hair and a lace veil over her face. Bran, cutting a dashing figure in a black tailcoat and cravat. Her family in the front pew, their faces wreathed in smiles. The soft, sweeping chords of a harp as she walked down the aisle. Her mouth firmed. “Yes, that’s what I want. But with a few conditions.”
The raw heat that had leapt into Bran’s eyes when she’d mentioned the word ‘mistress’ flickered and dimmed. “Aye?” he said warily, releasing her hand to slide back into his seat. “And what would those be?”
“First, we both acknowledge that these things do not last forever. When one of us wishes to end the arrangement, we will be forthright and truthful with one another. There will be no hard feelings or bitterness on either side.”
He gave a short, clipped nod. “What else?”
“Whatever is given during the course of the affair cannot be taken back. When my...my previous lover left he took everything with him, leaving me completely destitute and without any means to return home. I won’t have that happen again.”
“Ye will be well compensated for your time.” Although his countenance remained devoid of expression, there was a hard edge to Bran’s voice she’d never heard before. Almost as if he were angry with her. She couldn’t imagine why. Wasn’t she giving him everything a man desired? Clear rules and boundaries and a way out for both of them when the time came to end it. What more could he possibly want?
“Is that it, then?” he asked.
“No. There’s one more thing. The most important thing.” Ignoring the painful tug in her heart, she met his sharp gaze without blinking. “No matter what happens, we will not fall in love.”
Chapter Nine
Lilly made having an affair sound as desirable as getting a tooth pulled. Bran didn’t fancy himself a romantic man - poetry and flowery declarations of love were best saved for fops and fools - but he wasn’t after signing up for a bloody business arrangement.
Where was the passion? The lust? The spontaneity? Leaping into bed without knowing how long an affair was going to last was half the damn fun. But if he wanted Lilly’s warm, nubile little body writhing underneath of him (not to mention on top of him, in front of him, and beside him) he had no choice except to go along with her rules. At least for now. Although if she honestly believed she was going to be able to up and leave him whenever she pleased...his jaw clenched at the thought.
She was his, goddamnit. She had been his since the first moment he saw her. And he’d be damned to hell and back if he gave her up without a fight.
“If that’s how ye want it, lass, then that’s how it’ll be.” He stood up, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floorboards. Her violet eyes widened when he approached and his abdomen clenched in reaction to the faint quiver of awareness he felt when he rested his hand on the back of her neck, fingers gently caressing the taut muscles.
“Wh-what are you doing?” She licked her lips, a nervous gesture that had him biting back a groan. The things he wanted to do with that mouth…
“Sealing our agreement with a kiss, of course.” He nudged her chair to the side and slipped his arms around her waist, lifting her effortlessly to her feet where she stood frozen like a deer in the crosshairs of a hunter’s bow. “Unless you’d rather a handshake.”
Her gaze darted down to his mouth. Lingered for several seconds before slowly lifting to his eyes. “You - you want to start our affair now?”
Could she be any more adorable? Grinning, he ran his hands through her hair, gently prying the pins loose until the entire length of her heavy blonde mane tumbled down her back in a waterfall of curls. “Is there something you’re waiting for, love?”
“No, I just...no.” Her hair spilled over her shoulders as she shook her head from side to side. “I’ve been thinking about what happened. In the carriage,” she clarified in a whisper, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.
“And?” He traced the side of his face with a single fingertip, following the curve of her cheekbone and jaw until it led him down to her collarbone. He paused in the hollow of her throat to watch as her nipples stiffened. Spread his thighs slightly apart when his cock throbbed in response.
Bloody hell. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and he was hard as a pike. If they made it upstairs to the bedroom - a very questionable ‘if’ at this point - he was going to come like a twelve-year-old lad touching a pair of tits for the first time.
“And...I liked it it.” She peered shyly up at him from beneath her lashes. “I liked it quite a bit.”
This time Bran didn’t bother to hold back his groan. “Ah, Lilly. If you liked that then you’re going to love this.”
In the park his kiss had been gentle. Soft. Slow. He’d given everything and demanded nothing. But now, with lust pumping through his veins and desire heating his blood, he took what he wanted without apology or remorse.
Her head arched back, her stiff nipples pressing against his chest as he devoured her mouth with hungry sweeps of his tongue. Spinning her around, he sat down in the chair and pulled her onto his lap, adjusting her legs so she straddled him, her skirts bunched up past her knees.
Unfamiliar with the position she stiffened and started to draw away, but a coaxing whisper and a teasing nibble on the sensitive shell of her ear had her leaning into him, shapely calves clinging instinctively to the back legs of the chair as her arms wound around his neck and her fingers sank into his hair.
He kissed her again and she kissed him back, her enthusiasm overshadowing any lack of experience. They explored each other’s mouths with licks and nibbles, taking the time to learn the taste, the texture, the feel of one another. Lilly grew bolder with every heated breath until she tentatively bit down on his lip. He growled in approval and she tensed, her eyes flying open in dismay.vg
“I - I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
If by ‘hurt him’ she meant she’d nearly made him come in his trousers than aye, she’d hurt him.
“Do it again,” he demanded, rocking his hips up off the chair so she could feel the long, hot length of his arousal. “Harder.”
When she obeyed the final strands of control he’d been using to control his ardor snapped and he swept Lilly up his arms with the single-minded purpose of getting her into his bed as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, he’d underestimated the power she yielded over him.
One shy smile and he had her pressed against the bannister, his head delving between her perfectly shaped breasts.
The scrape of her nails across his chest and he pinned her up against the wall, his hands burrowing beneath her dress to cup her rounded bottom. A trail of clothes followed them up the stairs.
His shirt. Her stockings. His trousers. Her drawers.
By the time they reached his bedroom they were both naked and panting, their skin flushed with arousal and their eyes dark with desire. They fell backwards onto the mattress, Bran beneath and Lilly above. With her hair tousled around her shoulders and her lips swollen from his kisses she looked like an ethereal creature spun from fantasy, and as Bran suckled one of her rosy tipped nipples he couldn’t help but marvel at the stroke of fate that had brought this velvet-eyed fairy into his life.
Then she was under him, golden curls splayed across the pillows and nails digging delicious furrows into his shoulders as he dipped a single finger into her honeyed core. A line of perspiration gleamed on his temple when her muscles contracted and she clenched around him.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned.
She murmured something incoherent in response, her head writhing restlessly from side to side as he took his time pleasuring her, stretching her tight little entrance with one finger, then two.
“Bran…”
“Aye, love?” he said huskily.
“I can’t...I don’t…Please,” she whimpered, and the single word was his undoing.
She gasped when he slowly slid inside of her inch by glorious inch. Clung to him when he began to rock in and out, taking the time to find a rhythm that pleased them both. Cried out his name when they hovered on the precipice of oblivion...and sank with him down, down, down into the shadowy depths of mindless desire.
A Night Without Stars Page 7