Pleasure Me

by Burns, Monica

  Thank you for last night. I shall call for you at seven for a small dinner party Lord and Lady Ashford are hosting prior to the Westerham affair.

  She fell backward into her pillows with the note clutched to her breast. Slowly she rolled over to bury her face in the pillow Garrick had used last night. The rich spicy smell of him permeated the bed, and her mind flitted back to the pleasure she’d found in his arms. Despite his inexperience, he’d been an amazingly quick study.

  The second time he’d made love to her, he’d already learned how to control his own release until he secured her climax. Sweet heaven, but the man had been incredibly thick and hard inside her. When she’d shattered in his arms that first time, she couldn’t have imagined a more exquisite moment. But she’d been wrong.

  With the innate skill of a born seducer, he’d pulled her toward another precipice. In a joint release of pleasure, they’d climaxed together. The memory of how he’d throbbed inside her flooded back to make her body ache with a need to feel him inside her again. It had been a wonderful experience, and the only thing she could have wished for was to see his face at the moment of his release.

  She sighed. Although Garrick had trusted her with one of his secrets, there were deeper layers to be explored. It would take time for her to gain his trust until he was willing to reveal himself further. Whatever Beresford had done to him, it was obvious Garrick didn’t want her to see or touch him below his waist.

  When she’d reached for his cock, his rejection of her touch had been so swift it had startled her, and the fear in his voice had touched her deeply. She had wanted to kill Beresford at that precise moment. Kill the bastard for the torment he’d caused Garrick. But in a blink of an eye, Garrick’s touch had pulled her back to him and the delicious way her body responded to his.

  With every touch, he’d made her feel desirable, wanton, and young again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this alive, euphoric almost. It was as if she were fifteen years younger. It was a glorious feeling, and she loved it. Loved the way he made her feel both physically and emotionally. It was a heady experience.

  A quiet knock sounded on the door before it opened and Dolores entered with a breakfast tray. The maid eyed her warily, but she was too happy to berate her friend. Thanks to Dolores, she’d experienced a night unlike any she’d had in a very long time.

  “So are you going to fire me?” There was just a trace of smug contentment in the maid’s voice, but Ruth didn’t care.

  “No.”

  “Good. I knew it was the right thing to do to let his lordship into the house. After the bleak mood you’ve been in for the past three weeks, I’m happy to see you smiling.”

  “I’ve not been that bad,” she protested.

  Dolores arched her eyebrow at her in disbelief before she set the breakfast tray on the table in front of the hearth. In a limber move for a woman her size, the maid retrieved Ruth’s robe from the floor where it had fallen the night before.

  Ruth scooted out of bed and accepted the silk garment the maid handed her. The robe brushed softly against her skin, reminding her of the warmth of Garrick’s breath on her cheek as she’d fallen asleep last night. The robe’s belt tied around her waist, she reached for the glass of juice on the tray.

  “Do you know what time Lord Stratfield left this morning?”

  “Simmons said he hailed a cabbie for his lordship around seven this morning,” Dolores said as she bustled her way into the bathroom to run Ruth’s bath.

  Her heart skipped erratically at her friend’s comment. So Garrick hadn’t left immediately after she’d fallen asleep. The realization sent happiness spiraling through her. Inside, a small voice of warning tried to obliterate the blissful feeling, but it failed. She knew it was a mistake to take pleasure in the notion that he’d been unwilling to leave her, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Ruth glanced at the mantel clock. Nine thirty. There would barely be time to enjoy her breakfast and dress before she needed to leave. Yesterday she’d arranged to visit the Caring Hearts orphanage to speak with Lady Lynmouth about making their current partnership a permanent one. Deep inside she knew her motives for the visit had not been completely selfless.

  She knew she’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of Garrick or at least have word of him from his sister. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, his continuous attempts to see her over the past three weeks had begun to wear her down. It was why she’d been unable to resist listening to his heartfelt explanation last night. She took a small bite of toast and frowned as she stared down at the tray.

  “Dolores, where is the morning paper?” The question was met with an indistinguishable reply. “What?”

  “I said you don’t have time to read the paper.” The older woman avoided her gaze as she emerged from the bathroom.

  “I’m not that short on time.” Ruth frowned at the stubborn look crossing the maid’s face. “You’re hiding something from me. What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” Dolores sniffed with annoyance. “Come along now. You need to be getting your bath or you’ll be late for your appointment.”

  “The paper, if you please, Dolores.” She stretched out her hand in a silent demand. With great reluctance, the maid pulled the paper from a deep pocket in her skirt.

  “Don’t you pay them no mind, my lady.”

  Her friend’s words sent tension skimming along every one of her nerve endings as she accepted the London Times. With trepidation she opened the paper to the Society column. Her gaze scanned the article until she saw Garrick’s initials combined with hers.

  A shudder raced through her as she read the last sentence of the paragraph. Oh God, advancing years; she reached for the back of the nearby chair as she swayed on her feet. Behind her, Dolores clucked with concern and touched Ruth’s arm. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly as she shrugged off her friend’s touch.

  “Leave me, Dolores.” It was a quiet order her friend disobeyed.

  “Don’t let it upset you, my lady. It’s all—”

  “Go, Dolores,” she bit out coldly. “Now.”

  She closed her eyes in an effort to control the nausea rolling over her with increasing strength. Why hadn’t she listened to the warning bells in her head when Garrick had first suggested they be friends? And last night . . . dear lord . . . last night had been a mistake of the worst kind. She shuddered.

  Just moments ago she’d felt so young, but she’d been pulled back down to earth by a harsh reality. She was far too old to be involved with Garrick even if the age difference was only a few years. The newspaper crumpled and crackled beneath her tight grasp. Advancing years. Even with her eyes closed she could still see the words.

  Last night couldn’t happen again—no matter how much pleasure Garrick brought her in bed. She refused to play the role of a woman desperately clinging to her youth by being paramour to a man several years younger than her. And that was exactly how she appeared.

  Desperate and old. The gossip column had bluntly made that point all too clear. The clock chimed the quarter hour, the sound piercing its way into her thoughts. She remembered her appointment with Lady Lynmouth. She couldn’t cancel at the last minute.

  As humiliating as this piece of gossip was, she refused to let anyone see how much it cost her emotionally. She would break with Garrick as soon as possible. He might protest, but she would have to be firm in her resolve and not let him persuade her to his way of thinking. She bit her lip as her head filled with images of Garrick attempting to overrule her decision.

  Sweet heaven, would she be able to resist him? Her walk unsteady, she headed toward her waiting bath. She had no other options where Garrick was concerned. Their current relationship would eventually end, and the degradation of another man leaving her for a younger woman was far too painful a thought.

  When a reasonable amount of time had passed, she would retire to Crawley Hall. The moment the next scandal took center stage in the Society column this humiliating experie
nce would end. Chilled by the thought of how long that might take, she made her way into the bathroom to bathe. She would have to continue as though untroubled by the gossip.

  God, if only she were younger. It would be hard to part with him. Last night he’d been such a willing pupil, and she’d never enjoyed herself so much in bed before, despite his lack of experience. But even if they were the same age, it would still be a mistake to continue seeing him. She was quickly growing infatuated with the man.

  When she was with him, she didn’t feel old at all. He made her feel vibrant, beautiful, and it was as if there was no question of age between them. Her eyes suddenly blurred with tears, and she blinked them away quickly. She was being ridiculous. It would be too short a jump from the passion they shared to something deeper where her feelings for Garrick were concerned.

  Heaven knew she was already far too close to the edge as it was. And that was something she could afford even less than her current humiliation. Heartsick, she proceeded to bathe and dress for her appointment with Lady Lynmouth. The thought of Garrick’s sister made her flinch. There was little doubt that the woman would be quite pleased to see an end to her association with her brother.

  Her thoughts continued to center around Garrick, and by the time her carriage drew up in front of the Caring Hearts orphanage, her spirits had not improved. The young maid that greeted her at the door seemed a bit rattled, and Ruth frowned at the girl’s distressed expression.

  “I’ve an appointment with Lady Lynmouth. Would you please tell her I’ve arrived.”

  “I don’t know that I should, my lady. Lord Tremaine arrived a quarter of an hour ago, and told us not to interrupt them.”

  Ruth stiffened at the maid’s words. Was it possible Lady Lynmouth was involved with the bastard? It seemed unlikely, and she was certain Garrick would have put an end to such a relationship the moment he discovered Tremaine anywhere near his sister. But then perhaps Lady Lynmouth had kept it a secret from her brother.

  Uncertainty filled her as she considered that possibility. Garrick’s sister had not struck her as a woman who would dally with a man such as Tremaine. Drawing in a deep breath, Ruth’s hand brushed across her drawstring reticule. Ever since the day she’d freed Jenny from the tyranny of the pickpocket who’d bought the child, she’d learned to carry a small revolver whenever she came to the East End.

  She’d never used the weapon before, but Garrick’s description of Tremaine told her the man was no different than his father. Somehow she doubted it would take much for her to at least wound the man. Without a second thought, she moved quickly down the hall to the office and its closed door. She raised her hand to knock when she heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

  “Let me go.” Lady Lynmouth’s voice was sharp, but there was a note of panic behind her command.

  Ruth immediately tested the doorknob. It turned easily and she experienced a rush of relief that Tremaine had not had the forethought to lock the door. She quickly pulled her revolver from her drawstring bag and entered the office. The sight of Garrick’s sister struggling to escape Tremaine’s grasp sent a chill through her. Had her father witnessed a similar scene between the viscount’s father and her mother? Pinned between Tremaine and the wall, Lady Lynmouth was trying hard to free herself from the man’s hold.

  “Let her go, my lord, or I shall be forced to shoot you.” The moment she spoke, Tremaine jerked his head in her direction.

  Garrick’s sister didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the man’s distraction and jerked free of his hold to put several feet between them. A feral smile on his face, the viscount offered Ruth an arrogant bow of condescension.

  “My dear Lady Ruth, this is a surprise.”

  “One you should be grateful for, my lord,” Ruth said quietly. “I feel certain that had I been Lord Stratfield, it is unlikely you would still be alive.”

  “Ah, but you are not Stratfield, my dear lady.” The man arched an eyebrow at her, clearly not intimidated by her weapon. He took two steps toward her, and Ruth cocked the small handgun. He immediately froze in his tracks.

  “I have no wish to shoot you, Tremaine, but I will if necessary.” She saw him weighing his options before he bowed again.

  “It appears I’ve outstayed my welcome.” He glanced at Garrick’s sister. “I look forward to our next meeting, Lady Lynmouth.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other woman pale. Angered at the way the viscount was threatening the woman, Ruth eyed the man coldly.

  “I would advise you not to come anywhere near Lady Lynmouth in the future. I doubt her brother will be as generous with your well-being as I have been.”

  “Stratfield?” The viscount raised his eyebrow in contemptuous amusement. “I am quite certain the man’s secrets will ensure his dealings with me are quite generous.”

  “Then you’re a fool,” she snapped. “The man won’t hesitate to kill you if provoked.”

  The viscount’s beady eyes narrowed as he assessed her. After a long pause he shrugged. “Stratfield doesn’t strike me as a man capable of murder and mayhem.”

  “Stratfield might not be, but when it comes to my wife, I am more than capable of violence.” The deep voice behind her startled Ruth, and she jerked her head to look over her shoulder at the tall man standing in the doorway. The room suddenly seemed much smaller as he entered the room, and as she glanced back at Tremaine, she saw the man’s face had gone gray.

  “Ethan,” Lady Lynmouth gasped.

  Her husband didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes fixed steadily on Tremaine. The scowl he sent the other man made the viscount clear his throat nervously. Edging his way forward toward the door, Tremaine watched Lord Lynmouth warily.

  “My apologies, Lynmouth. I had assumed you were done with the lady.”

  “What’s mine, I keep.” There was something dark in the earl’s voice, and it said the words weren’t intended for Tremaine alone.

  The tension in the room took a sudden, accelerated leap forward, and it was evident she wasn’t the only one to feel it. The viscount jerked his head in a placating gesture and abruptly headed toward the door. As the man disappeared from the room, Ruth sagged with relief. A large hand gently took the revolver from her and released the firing pin before returning the weapon to her.

  “Are the two of you unharmed?” Although his question seemed calm and nonchalant, the tension vibrating off the man said he was far from either of those things.

  “I am fine, my lord.” Ruth nodded her head as she returned her revolver to her drawstring bag. “Although I am grateful for your arrival.”

  She glanced at the woman across the room and drew in a sharp breath. Garrick’s sister seemed on the verge of collapse. Without hesitating she hurried to the woman’s side and guided her to the office chair.

  “Come, sit down. You’ve had a horrible fright.”

  “Thank you, Lady Ruth.” The countess’s whisper barely reached Ruth’s ears, and she noticed the woman’s gaze had yet to stray from her husband.

  “I, too, owe you a debt of gratitude, my lady. If you hadn’t intervened, I might have arrived too late.” The man’s deep voice resonated with gratitude, and beneath her hand, Lady Lynmouth’s body grew rigid.

  “Why are you here, Ethan?”

  There was a harshness to the question that made Ruth immediately cast a glance in the earl’s direction. She almost didn’t catch the flash of emotion that flitted across the tall man’s face, but the brief glimpse told her the earl was in deep torment. When he didn’t answer his wife’s question, Ruth glanced first at the countess then at the earl. The sign of a battle brewing was visible on both their faces, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught in the middle.

  She straightened in preparation to leave the couple alone.

  “I think we should reschedule our appointment for another time, Lady Lynmouth.”

  “Oh no, I am—”

  “I believe you’re correct, Lady Ruth. I’ll ta
ke my wife home and see to it that she rests.”

  “Then if you’ll excuse me, my lord. Lady Lynmouth,” she said as she quickly headed toward the door. She’d almost reached it when she heard the sound of running feet. Tension drew her muscles taut as Garrick shouted for his sister from the corridor.

  “Lily. Lily, are you all right?” The moment he barreled through the doorway, Garrick slid to a halt in amazement and stared around the room in angry confusion. “They told me Tremaine was in here.”

  “He was, but Lady Ruth prevented the man . . . then Ethan . . . arrived.” The countess’s stammering explanation made Garrick frown darkly as he looked at Lily’s husband.

  “Stratfield.” The earl nodded in his brother-in-law’s direction.

  “What the devil are you doing here, Lynmouth?”

  “I’ve come for my wife.” The earl’s stoic reply prompted a stubborn look to harden Garrick’s face, and he shook his head.

  “Lily has made it quite clear she wants nothing to do with you.”

  “Nonetheless, as my wife she will come home. Now I’d like a word with her. In private.”

  Lord Lynmouth turned to his wife, his expression harsh and unrelenting as he silently demanded she acquiesce. He was an intimidating man, and it surprised her that Garrick’s sister didn’t flinch in the face of her husband’s obvious determination. Still not looking away from her husband’s face, she gave her brother a slight wave of her hand.

  “It’s all right, Garrick. I’ll listen to what he has to say.”

  Eager to escape the volatile emotions flooding the room, Ruth didn’t wait to hear him argue with his sister. As quickly as she could, she slipped past Garrick and hurried down the hallway. At the front entrance to the orphanage, she released a quick breath of relief that Simmons was exactly where she’d left him. She took a step forward only to have a strong male hand prevent her from leaving the orphanage.