“You know, I think you’re wrong. If the elite suddenly couldn’t find the Lady’s book behind the counter at certain shops, they would want it even more. You might make her more famous…or infamous. And we both know you don’t want that,” Connor said, opening his eyes to meet Adrian’s evenly. “In fact, I wonder if you and I want the same things for this endeavor at all anymore.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, Higgins returned to the room and said, “I’m sorry to disturb, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Smallshaw, but you have a caller.”
The men didn’t break their gaze, even as Connor said, “Who is it?”
“The Duchess of Jameswood, sir,” Higgins said.
Connor jerked his stare from Adrian and to his servant. “I’m sorry?” he said, certain he could not have heard his man right.
“The Duchess of Jameswood to see you if you are in,” the butler repeated without so much as a raised brow at the tone of Connor’s voice.
“We’re in,” he said softly as he rose to his feet. “We are most certainly in.”
The servant bowed and left to fetch Grace. Connor smoothed his jacket. She was here, almost as if she had been conjured by his errant mind. He was hit on all sides by wild emotions. He was still furious at her after her confession, but he was also thrilled at the idea of seeing her, smelling her skin, being close to her after what seemed like an eternity apart.
Adrian’s chair screeched as he pushed it away from the desk. The discordant sound dragged Connor from his thoughts. When he looked at his partner, Adrian appeared annoyed.
“More investors?” he hissed, mocking Connor with his tone.
“No,” Connor said softly.
Higgins stepped into the doorway and said, “The Duchess of Jameswood.”
He stepped aside and she swept into the room. Immediately her gaze fell to him and a tentative smile brightened her face as she stepped toward him.
“Connor,” she said softly, her tone broken and filled with uncertainty he had never before heard from her. Gone was her icy exterior, replaced by…something else. Something he was both drawn to and which troubled him.
Adrian cleared his throat and Grace dragged her gaze from Connor to his partner. Her cheeks flamed, for it was obvious she hadn’t been even the slightest aware of Adrian’s presence.
“You must be the Duchess of Jameswood,” Adrian said, coming around his desk to offer her a hand. “How pleased I am to make your acquaintance.”
Grace was partially blocked by Adrian, but Connor watched as she took his friend’s hand. “Hello,” she squeaked.
“I’m Adrian Smallshaw, Mr. Sheridan’s partner.” He gave a glance over his shoulder to Connor. “At present.”
Grace nodded as she offered her hand. To Connor’s surprise, Adrian lifted her hand to his lips for a brief kiss before he released her.
She lifted her hand to her chest and faltered as she said, “I—a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sorry to intrude upon your work without sending word ahead first.”
Adrian smiled. “We weren’t working, simply…discussing the future. But that can wait. Obviously you have something of great importance to discuss with Mr. Sheridan. And I have something of my own to attend to. Excuse me.”
He shot a final glance toward Connor, nodded to Grace and then slipped from the room, shutting the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Connor couldn’t resist stepping toward her. She met him halfway and looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with emotions he couldn’t discern. All he knew was that they were powerful.
She lifted a hand to his cheek and cupped it. Even through her properly gloved fingers, he felt the hint of her heat, her softness, her sweetness and it took all his restraint not to lean into the touch. When she lifted to her tiptoes and brushed her lips to his, the ability to resist her fled.
He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her closer, molding her body against him as relief pulsed through him at the touch. God, he had almost let himself believe he could do without this thing between them. But he couldn’t. Despite how he knew he would have to give her up, he wasn’t ready.
She pulled away from his kiss. “Connor—” she began, then cut herself off.
He released her and she backed away. On her face, he saw her battle, a war to say or not say…something. And considering what she had already told him in the past few days, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what that something was.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice filled with tension he wished he could erase, but couldn’t. Not with her.
She clenched her hands before her and he waited, waited for her to say something, tell him something, give him anything.
Finally, she let out her breath in a gust. “I-I miss you,” she whispered.
The words weren’t satisfying, not in the slightest. But they were enough for now. Enough because he couldn’t resist her when she was standing within arm’s reach. Even if he was conflicted, it was never about how much he desired her, needed her, wanted her. The rest would be dealt with later.
Chapter Nineteen
“Not ready to have a discussion? Why not put your mouth to better use?”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures
Grace was a coward and she knew it. But as she stood there, looking at Connor, feeling his heat and his anger and his desire merged together into one confusing thing, she was too afraid to say what she had come to confess. Loving him seemed even more dangerous when she was face to face with him in his own space.
“Come here,” he said, crooking a finger.
She swallowed hard. If she did as he ordered, she knew what would happen. He would have her and she would love it, melt into it. But did that mean she would ultimately sacrifice having more with him? Having that marvelous joy that her two best friends had found?
Or perhaps that was already out of her reach. Maybe this was all there was between them. All either of them was capable of.
Whatever the truth was, she couldn’t deny him. She moved to stand before him, shaking as he stared down at her. He said nothing. Not that he missed her too, not that he despised her, not that he wanted her.
He merely leaned down and his mouth covered hers. But this time there was purpose to the kiss. He drove his tongue between her lips, demanding her response rather than coaxing it. And as he kissed her, he spun her around so that her back was to his desk.
She didn’t resist. After all their time together, she knew that wouldn’t garner her what she desired. Surrender was all she could do, even as he maneuvered her backward, lifting her against the edge of the desk and pressing his body to hers so that she could feel his arousal against her thigh.
She moaned. What else could she do when her body was already on fire and her heart was pounding with out of control lust and need and love for him? She arched into him, offering herself to him without words.
He continued kissing her as he tugged her buttons free, parting her gown along the front and pressing his hand beneath her chemise so he could cup one aching breast.
“Connor,” she whispered, her hands stroking down his back until she cupped his backside and drew him closer.
He grumbled some garbled word and then everything moved into a frenetic pace. He pushed at her skirt with one hand, while he wrestled with his trouser buttons with the other. She helped him, their fingers tangling as they raced to free his cock.
He grunted as his member was liberated from its bindings and she stroked him once, twice, reveling in the steely heat of him, the velvet smoothness that she longed to feel pounding deep inside her already clenching, aching sex.
But he didn’t give her that pleasure. He leaned back from her kiss to look down at her. His face was hard as he said, “Tell me you want me.”
She squirmed against him, but he wouldn’t press forward and join them.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
She nodded. “You know I do. You know I want you. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want you.”
/> “And I’m the only one who does this to you,” he encouraged.
She nodded. “You are.”
“Then beg me,” he said, his voice cold.
She shivered. She knew exactly why he was exerting this control, this dominance over her. It was her punishment for lying, his retaking control over a situation where he felt duped and toyed with.
She met his gaze and swallowed her pride.
“Please, Connor. Please give me what I need. Please fit your body into mine and take me until I can’t breathe, until I can’t think, until I have nothing left but pleasure given by you. Please.”
His pupils dilated at her words, just as she knew they would. Without preamble, he spread her legs wide and then he thrust hard into her. She gasped, gripping at the desk edge for purchase as sensation exploded in her sex, sending shock waves through her entire body.
“Again,” she pleaded when he held still inside of her.
“Fuck,” he growled beneath his breath and cupped her hips as he began to take her in earnest.
She lifted to meet his strokes as she reached up to clutch his shoulders. Her fingers pressed into his jacket, just as his ground into her bare hips. She was certain she would have bruises later, but oh, how it would be worth it.
She felt her orgasm building in her, blossoming like a flower that had been left unwatered too long and now rose to meet the rain. He circled his hips and she cried out.
“Let me,” she panted. “Please.”
He nodded. “Take it.”
She lost control of her body the instant he allowed her the pleasure, her hips thrusting wildly, her head dipped back over her shoulders as her pleasure overtook her in long, shattering spasms.
He dragged her through the pleasure with long thrusts, and as her pleasure faded, she looked at him and found that his neck was straining, his eyes wide. He was on the brink and she gave him a wicked smile before she reached between them and cupped his testicles gently, lifting and squeezing.
“Christ,” he cried out, withdrawing just in time to let his seed splash free onto her thigh, her sex.
Panting, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. She clung to him, lost in the moment, lost in him. But as he pulled away, she felt his demeanor change. Gone was her lover, replaced by a man who remained uncertain about her.
He fastened his trousers and smoothed his jacket as he looked down at her with a cooler eye. She sat up and fixed herself as he had, then waited for whatever he would do next.
“I have something to show you,” he said, his tone detached, as if they had just met and he had business to conduct with her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but managed to control her shaking when she said, “Very well.”
He took her hand and helped her from the desk edge, though he released her the moment she was steady. She took a place on the settee by the fire and watched as he pushed some of his items of his desk back into place, then opened a drawer. He withdrew a letter, which he brought to her.
He hesitated as he pondered where to sit, then finally took a place beside her as he handed the item over.
“This came this morning,” he explained. “Just before your arrival.”
She wrinkled her brow, uncertain what he was sharing with her, but she unfolded the sheets regardless and drew back at what was within. The letter was a diatribe against her which threatened her body and her very life and ended with a demand that she not write another word and that all remaining copies of her book be destroyed.
She swallowed hard as she folded the letter in half and handed it back to him.
“These are the threats you mentioned when we first met, before you knew who I was,” she said softly, trying not to allow the fear those words inspired entered her voice. “Why did you never tell me about them as the Lady?”
He shifted. “Since your identity isn’t known, I didn’t see the danger. Why share something so unpleasant?”
She shifted. That made sense. “Then why share this with me now?”
“Because I know you now. It feels more menacing to read these words. And the violence of them is increasing.”
She heard the vein of anger in his voice, and that gave her relief. At least he still cared that much.
“Your lie has spread,” she said, staring at her clenched hands in her lap. “It’s obviously struck a nerve with someone.”
He turned his face and she saw the thinning of his lips. He didn’t like that she called out his falsehood when she had told so many, but she wasn’t wrong. After all, he had claimed she was hard at work on another volume of The Ladies Book of Pleasures. Had he not expected that news would spread and inspire a variety of reactions?
“You say these threats are more violent,” she said when he didn’t respond to her barb. “Aside from that, is there anything different about them?”
He walked back to his desk and tossed the letter into the drawer. The force with which he closed it again made her jump. He drew a long breath before he replied.
“No. It was addressed to me here, sent through regular post with no identification of the people behind the threats.”
“People,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know whether to be sad or exhilarated that I could inspire such a reaction from multiple parties.”
His eyes narrowed. “To be so flip is a dangerous thing, Grace. This is a serious matter.”
She shrugged as she got to her feet and paced past him to stand at the large picture window that looked out over his small garden. It was very pretty and green, and the sight of it gave her a moment of peace in her twisted mind.
“It is serious,” she agreed. “But since the author or authors don’t seem to know my identity, I’m not certain what you wish for me to do about it. I have always been very careful about how I managed our correspondence. It went through several layers of solicitor before anything was delivered to me. I trust the very small circle who now knows the truth.”
“Perhaps we should arrange for a guard for you,” he suggested.
She turned toward him with an arched brow. “Wouldn’t that draw attention to me, Connor? Perhaps give someone reason to wonder why I need such protection.”
He pursed his lips. “Fine, but—” he began.
She waved him off. “There is nothing to be done. Despite what you told the world at large, I do not intend to write another book. When the volume you promised never materializes, eventually interest in my book and the identity of its author will fade, and that will be the end of it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
She dropped her chin. “Well, we must all learn to live with life’s disappointments.”
She shook her head, trying not think of all her own. What good did it do to cry over what she couldn’t have? Why not ask for what she could?
She looked at him, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “What about…us? This.”
He hesitated for a beat too long before he shrugged. “I still want you, obviously.”
Want her. Well, she wanted him, too. But that seemed very empty comfort when she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“Do you want me or her?” she whispered.
“The Lady?” She nodded once and his jaw tightened. “You are the same.”
Grace shut her eyes, trying not to let the hurt that statement caused be evident on her face, in her voice.
“No,” she said as she moved for the door. “We’re not.”
Then she left him to go home and think about what had happened, what she felt and what to do now that everything had so profoundly changed.
Connor was sitting in a chair by the picture window a few hours later, watching the afternoon fade into light when Adrian came back into their shared office. Connor hardly acknowledged his friend, but continued to stare out into the gathering dark, his thoughts keeping him from truly seeing what his eyes beheld.
And of course, all thoughts were of Grace.
Once again, she had spun him arou
nd by coming here. By surrendering, by demanding an answer for what would happen next. An answer he truly did not have.
“It seems a visit from your lover has done you no good in bettering your mood,” Adrian said as he sat down.
Connor glared at his friend. “Who said she was my lover?”
“Please. The tension between you before I left was thick enough to cut with a knife, not to mention she referred to you by your given name.” His friend shook his head. “And even if she hadn’t, I did a little research about the Duchess of Jameswood. Grace.”
Connor clenched a fist against his thigh. “I’m not sure I like you looking into the company I keep, Smallshaw.”
“Why shouldn’t I when the company you keep affects our business?”
Connor drew in his breath. After a very confusing afternoon, it was perhaps time to deal with something even more unpleasant. Something that had been on his mind for some time now.
“I realize that over the past few years, our visions of what this company should be have deviated,” he began as he rose to his feet slowly. “I can imagine that has been highly frustrating to you.”
Adrian nodded. “Highly.”
“You and I have been friends for a long time,” Connor continued. “But lately I have felt your disdain for all I do and my thoughts on what we should do.”
“How could I not when you choose to crawl into bed—quite literally, it seems—with the very people we once swore to target with the books we put out?”
“Target. There you go, choosing words with a double meaning of violence again,” Connor sighed.
Adrian arched a brow. “Why let it be a double meaning? If what we publish changes things with fire and blood, I will not be sad.”
Nausea hit Connor in a wave. He wanted to argue with his friend, to reach inside of him and find the boy he had once been. But in truth, it was likely that person didn’t exist. Maybe he never had.
Perhaps Connor had simply clung to anyone who said the dark things he’d held in his heart as a young man. But now he couldn’t. His heart didn’t hold hate, even for this father who had dismissed him yet again. Grace had changed that.
A Measure of Deceit Page 17