The houses they passed were nothing but dark silhouettes against the night sky. Here and there a parlor window glowed and Claire felt her doubts returning tenfold. Garrett had kissed her with desire and what she'd told herself was affection, and she'd been a fool to believe her fanciful dreams and return the kisses.
"I'm more man than gentleman, and you're more woman than lady. One day you'll admit that and when you do, we'll set the world on fire."
Garrett's words came back to haunt her as the buggy began to climb up Nob Hill. He was right and the realization shamed her. She'd returned kiss for kiss and when he'd unfastened her dress, she'd let him. Why? Because his hands were like velvet fire and she'd been mesmerized by his touch.
“Almost there,” Garrett said, looking at her.
Moonlight shimmered on her hair and her lips were still swollen from his kisses. He knew Christopher had noticed, but Garrett wasn't concerned about the teasing he'd take from his friend the next time they met. He didn't like the pale quality of Claire's face. She was in pain, although she'd denied it.
Garrett didn't want Claire denying him anything. Not her trust, and certainly not her body. The small taste of Claire he'd had tonight didn't come close to satisfying his appetite.
As Garrett stopped the carriage in front of the Nob Hill mansion, Claire was wrestling with both the pain in her ankle and the humiliation of what she'd allowed to happen at Rush Gardens. She couldn't bring herself to look at Garrett as he stepped down from the buggy and walked around to lift her effortlessly in his arms. Once again she was forced to lace her arms around his neck while he climbed the steps. Belatedly, Claire realized that she couldn't avoid another confrontation with Garrett any more than she could avoid admitting that she'd been an equal partner in the passion they'd shared in the shadows earlier that evening.
“Open the door,” Garrett said.
Still not meeting his gaze, Claire reached out and twisted the brass knob. As she gave the door a push, she remembered that Garrett had given the household staff the holiday off. Mrs. Smalley, the housekeeper, had stayed on so that Grams wouldn't be alone, but Claire knew both women were sound asleep.
Dr. Baldwin's buggy came rolling into the drive and Claire let out what she thought was a silent sigh of relief. But it wasn't silent enough. Garrett chuckled lightly as he stepped inside the dim foyer.
“Afraid that I'll have my way with you, Miss Aldrich,” he teased as he marched across the tiled floor and up the stairs. “Don't worry. I'll wait until Dr. Baldwin has pronounced you fit as a fiddle before I ravish you again."
“You won't ravish me again. Ever,” she bit out the last word. “And keep your voice down. I don't want to wake up your grandmother."
Garrett responded by tightening his hold on her. “You're a sassy woman, Miss Aldrich. Sassy and sweet and too damn independent for your own good. But then, I like my women that way."
“I'm not one of your women,” Claire hissed into his ear. Having Garrett compare her to the women he'd taken as lovers in the past fired her temper until the pain in her ankle was forgotten. “Put me down. I can walk the rest of the way."
“Stubborn, too,” Garrett teased lightly as he stopped in front of her bedroom door. It wasn't completely closed so he gave it a gentle push with his foot and walked into the room. When he deposited Claire in the center of the large double bed, he was smiling. “Dr. Baldwin is right behind us. Behave yourself."
Claire gritted her jaw until it was aching almost as much as her ankle. She wanted to shout at Garrett, but what she had to say wasn't for anyone else's ears, so she suffered in silence while he turned up the lamp beside her bed. Dr. Baldwin strolled into the room a few seconds later.
“Let's have a look at that ankle,” he said, setting his medical bag on the bench at the end of the bed, then shedding his jacket. “It's a good thing Garrett got your shoe off before the swelling started."
At the mention of Claire's black dancing slipper, Garrett reached into his pocket and produced the missing shoe. He put it on the table beside the bed, then moved aside to give Dr. Baldwin more room.
“I need to see your foot,” the physician said when Claire hesitated to lift the hem of her gown.
Garrett was standing slightly behind and to the left of the doctor. Claire gave him a quick scowl. She got a devilish smile in return.
“I've already seen your ankle, Claire. And Dr. Baldwin is a physician. This isn't the time to be shy, sweetheart."
Claire wanted to push the endearment back down his throat, but she changed her frown into a brief smile and inched up the hem of her taffeta gown. "I've already seen your ankle..." The man had seen much more than that. That's why he's smiling like a little boy with a new toy, Claire thought. But I won't be Garrett's new toy. I'll walk out of this house, sprained ankle or no sprained ankle, before I'll let him make a mistress out of me and a fool out of my heart.
“This may hurt a little,” Dr. Baldwin warned her.
Claire grimaced slightly as the physician examined her swollen ankle. It was tender and the harder he pressed the more it hurt. “Ouch!"
Garrett moved closer to the bed.
Dr. Baldwin waved him back. “It's a sprain, but it is a rather bad one. I need to bind it."
Claire felt like a child, sitting in the middle of the bed while Garrett hovered a few feet away. The man made her nervous and if she hadn't been trying to get away from him in the park she wouldn't have been so clumsy.
“We need to remove your stocking,” Dr. Baldwin said matter-of-factly as he opened his bag and reached inside to pull out a roll of white bandage.
Before Claire could reach forward, Garrett was sitting on the edge of bed. He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her foot, being very careful not to jar her. Claire slapped his hands away when he started to reach under the hem of her dress to remove her stocking.
“I can do it,” she said, wishing she could slap his face instead of his hand. The man was impossible. It was bad enough that she'd let him take liberties at the park, but it was even more humiliating to let him get away with them in front of Dr. Baldwin.
Garrett relented but not before his expression said he was remembering how much more of her he'd touched not too long ago.
“I'd like something to drink,” she said, hoping Garrett would respond by leaving the room to meet her request. “Mrs. Smalley usually leaves a pitcher of lemonade in the icebox."
“Water would be better,” Dr. Baldwin said. “Laudanum and lemonade don't mix very well."
“Is she in that much pain?” Garrett asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I want her to rest,” the physician replied.
“I don't want any laudanum,” Claire said. “I took it once before and it made me sick to my stomach."
“How about a neat whiskey?” Garrett asked of Dr. Baldwin.
“That should do the trick,” the physician answered, looking at Claire.
She nodded, wishing Garrett would hurry up and fetch the drink so she could remove her stocking and Dr. Baldwin could get on with binding her ankle. She wasn't about to show her naked limb to the handsome banker. He'd seen more than enough of her for one night and she'd had more than enough of his taunting smiles.
“I'll be right back,” Garrett said, giving her a look that said she'd be wise to cooperate with the doctor and do what she was told.
Claire's stocking was lying beside her on the bed and her dress was hitched up several inches when Garrett returned with a small glass of amber liquor. Dr. Baldwin was too busy wrapping her ankle to notice her embarrassment and Claire knew that the smile on Garrett's face was because she was blushing to the roots of her hair. He found a strategic position to stand and watch while she tried her best to pretend he wasn't in the room.
“I want her off her feet for the next three days,” Dr. Baldwin said after he tied off the bandage and returned the hem of the dancing dress to a more modest position. “I'll stop by tomorrow to check on her again. Until then, make sur
e she stays in bed."
“I will,” Garrett said. “Thank you."
Dr. Baldwin closed his bag and put on his jacket. “I'll leave some laudanum just in case the whiskey isn't enough. If you mix it with water and a little sugar, she may get by without an upset stomach."
“I'll be fine,” Claire insisted. “The pain is better already."
Neither Dr. Baldwin nor Garrett looked like they believed her.
“I can see myself out,” the physician said, turning toward the door. “Good night."
Once Dr. Baldwin was gone, Claire went back to being embarrassed. And worried. She didn't want to wake Mrs. Smalley, but she needed to get undressed and there was no way she could manage on her own. With her right foot propped up on a pillow and a bustle under her bottom, she felt lumpy and out of sorts.
“Sip it slowly,” Garrett said, handing her the whiskey.
Claire brought the glass to her mouth, wiggled her nose at the scent, and took a sip. The instant the whiskey touched her tongue, she started coughing. “That's awful."
“That's the best Kentucky bourbon money can buy,” Garrett said indignantly. “Take another drink. I know your ankle hurts."
Thinking he'd leave once she swallowed the god-awful bourbon, Claire did her best. Her mouth curled into a sour smile as she handed the glass to him. “Thank you."
Garrett laughed, then finished off the whiskey. He put the empty glass on the table. “You can't sleep in all those clothes."
“I can manage,” Claire said quickly.
“How? You can't reach the buttons and you can't stand on one foot and wiggle your way out of a corset. Lean forward and I'll undo your buttons."
Claire didn't move.
“This isn't the time for modesty,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pushing the pillow away from her back. “You're injured and regardless of what you may think of me at the moment, I'm not going to take advantage of the situation."
Before Claire could think of another way to unfasten the dress, Garrett's hands were doing just that. His fingers were as skillful as they'd been in the park and in a few seconds her dress was unbuttoned. She clasped her hands to her chest to keep the bodice in place.
“I can do the rest,” she said, hating herself because the slightest touch of Garrett's hands and she was back to feeling warm and excited all over again.
Garrett ignored her remark. He stood up and moved to the end of the bed. “You can't sleep with one shoe on and one shoe off,” he said simply. Garrett unlaced her left shoe, took it off, and laid it on the floor.
Lightning shot through her body when he reached under the hem of her dress to find the garter holding her one stocking in place. She tried to jerk her leg away. The movement made her bustle dig into her bottom and she almost tipped over on her side. Righting herself and supporting her weight on the hand that wasn't trying to deter Garrett's attempt to pull down her stocking, Claire's temper flared anew. “Stop it,” she snapped.
Garrett paid her no mind. His hands moved up the inside of her thigh until they found the lace garter holding her stocking in place. Claire tried to scoot away, but there was no place to go. It took longer for Garrett to remove the stocking than it had taken him to unbutton her dress. The soft glide of his palms over her skin was enough to make Claire grit her teeth.
Once the stocking was discarded, Garrett looked at her. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way."
“Do what?” Claire asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.
“I'll help you stand up long enough to shed your dress and that damnable corset and bustle, or I can hold you down and take them off. You decide."
The gleam in his eye told Claire he'd enjoy stripping away her clothes one garment at a time. She thought about calling out for Mrs. Smalley but the housekeeper's room was downstairs, next to the kitchen. The only person she'd wake up would be Grams and that would create more problems than it would solve.
Talons of desire raked Garrett's body while he waited for Claire to decide to accept his help or fight him tooth and nail. The thought of stripping her naked while she struggled and cursed had a certain appeal, but he didn't want his grandmother charging into the room like a one-woman army to the rescue. He preferred having Claire all to himself.
Torn between embarrassment, anger, and necessity, Claire inched toward the edge of the bed. “I'll need my robe."
The simply spoken surrender was accepted without a word. Garrett walked to the closet, opened the door, and removed the nightgown and robe that hung inside. He carried them back to the bed and then reached for Claire.
“Lean against me,” he said, putting his hands around her waist and bringing her gingerly to a standing position.
Holding on to Garrett meant letting go of the dress. When the bodice fell to her waist, Claire reached for it. She wobbled precariously and almost fell flat on her face.
“For God's sake, stop worrying about me seeing what I've already seen and concentrate on standing on one foot,” Garrett grumbled. “I'm not going to rape you."
The sharp tone of his voice made Claire flinch. “Stop being rude,” she retorted. “This is embarrassing enough without you making it worse."
“Try closing your eyes,” Garrett suggested with a hint of humor. He couldn't stay angry with her when she was wiggling in his arms like a fish out of water. The more she wiggled, the more she brushed up against him. It was a delightful kind of torture and he didn't want it to stop too soon.
“Try closing yours,” she replied. Being close to Garrett again with her bodice undone and his arms supporting her was too reminiscent of what had happened at the park. “If you can hold me up, I can slip the gown over my head and..."
“And nothing,” he said impatiently.
If Claire thought Garrett was skilled in removing female clothing before, the speed with which he began undressing her now was more than proficient; it bordered on an expertise that made her even angrier than she'd been the night he'd told Christopher that he planned on making her his mistress. In spite of her grumbling and protests, Garrett had her stripped down to her silk drawers and lacy chemise in a matter of moments. Her bustle was tossed haphazardly into a far corner of the room, followed by two petticoats and a corset.
While he undressed her, his eyes roamed and his hands caressed. When Claire was left standing on one foot, blushing as red as a summer strawberry, Garrett lifted her in his arms and put her back on the bed. He lifted her injured ankle and placed it on the pillow, then reached for the nightgown.
“Lift your arms."
Claire jerked the garment out of his hands. “Turn around."
Garrett gave her a disgruntled look, hesitated, then did as she requested. Once his back was turned, Claire pulled the gown over her head, mumbling incoherently when it caught on several hairpins. She gave it a jerk, pulling it down, along with her hair.
“Don't peek,” she warned Garrett.
Moving as fast as she could, Claire slipped the straps of the chemise off her arms, then slid her arms into the nightgown. It took a good amount of wiggling and squirming to get the chemise unlaced and off so she could get the nightgown on, but she managed it. Then, bracing her weight with one hand she lifted her hips to the left, then to the right. She pulled the gown down over her silk drawers. Once the nightgown passed her knees, she struggled into the blue robe.
“Okay, you can turn around now."
Garrett managed not to smile when he turned around to find Claire tucking the silk and lace chemise under the pillow so he couldn't see the forbidden undergarment. Her modesty pleased him. But seeing her hair free of pins and falling over her shoulders pleased him even more. Her face was colored by embarrassment and her eyes were sparkling with female indignation. She was more beautiful than ever and he wanted her with a savage lust that threatened to steal his breath.
The sight of Garrett standing at the end of the bed, staring at her like an anxious bridegroom, made an odd, fascinating feeling twist thro
ugh Claire. The contrast of Garrett's formal clothing and her informal attire heightened the tension until Claire thought she'd burst from the effort it took to keep her feelings contained. The longer he stared at her, the more she remembered how it had felt when he'd held her in his arms and kissed the top of her breasts. Just thinking about it made her nipples harden into tiny buds that pushed against the soft cotton of her nightgown.
Garrett's keen eyes noticed the telltale sign. He was delighted to know that Claire couldn't deny what he made her feel. At least not physically. Mentally, he was sure that she'd do everything within her power to resist him. Thinking he could use time and Claire's newly discovered passion to his advantage, Garrett decided to bide his time. A little temptation can go a long way, he thought. All I need is patience and she'll be purring like a kitten in my arms.
Claire watched as Garrett gathered up her clothing. He folded her dress over the back of a chair, then laid her petticoats, her corset, and the awkward bustle on the bench at the end of the bed. Once her stockings and shoes were returned to the closet, he walked to the bed.
His eyes held her captive for a long moment before he bent down and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Sleep well, sweetheart. If you need anything, call out. I'll keep my door open so I can hear you."
For some unknown reason Claire didn't mind the endearment this time. She was exhausted and her ankle was hurting. When she looked up at Garrett, the embarrassment she'd felt earlier dissolved under the warmth of his smile. She returned his smile as she leaned back against the pillows, unaware of how alluring she looked to a man whose body was screaming for relief. “I'm sorry that I've been such a nuisance."
“You're too pretty of a nuisance for me to complain,” Garrett said. “Are you sure you don't want some laudanum? You won't rest well, if you're in pain."
Claire shook her head. “I'll be fine. Thank you."
Garrett hesitated leaving and Claire suspected it was because he wanted to kiss her again. She didn't dare let him. She was in bed, wearing only her nightclothes and Garrett's charms were too hard to resist. One more kiss and she'd be lost for sure.
A Gentleman's Bargain Page 16