Rogues and Ripped Bodices

by Samantha Holt

  He snorted. Some fun he turned out to be. He had her buried under books at the mill, hardly the sort of treatment a countess expected. Still, tonight he would show her an enjoyable evening and remind her exactly why she had decided to come to town. If she was not screaming to the rafters by the end of the evening, he would consider the night a failure.

  Right, he wasn’t going to stand here any longer. If anyone came along, he would appear a damn fool. He twisted the doorknob and eased open the door to step inside.

  Ellie squeaked his name and he spotted her sitting in front of the dressing table, having her hair tweaked by the maid.

  Maggie, he recalled, dipped. “My lord.”

  “Lucian, could you not have given me a couple of moments? As you can see I am not dressed.”

  He peered over her shoulder and saw she still sat in her corset and drawers. A grin split his face. “I can see very well.”

  “Well?”

  He met her gaze in the mirror. “Pardon?”

  “Wait outside. I shall only be a moment.”

  “Not likely. What shall it look like if I am found loitering around outside your room? I shall be lucky if the hotel staff do not carry me away and I am certain any gossip about us will be confirmed.”

  “People are gossiping?”

  “We have been careful, my love, but there is always gossip.”

  The maid flushed. “Your hair is done, my lady. Shall I help you choose your gown or...” She indicated to the door, clearly not wishing to be privy to their private conversations.

  “Yes, leave us, Maggie. Thank you. Lord Rushbourne can always help.”

  “As you will, my lady. Will you need me tonight?”

  Ellie shook her head. “I think not.”

  Lucian waited until the maid had left before sinking down onto the bed. “Come on, Ellie, it’s not like you to be late. We shall miss our reservation.”

  “I am trying to hurry,” she said, her voice tinged with annoyance, “but it is not easy when you have...have blasted straw for hair.” She motioned to her perfectly coiffed hairstyle.

  “Looks fine to me.” He picked a bit of lint off his sleeve.

  She humphed and proceeded to pat some cream or some such on her cheeks. He had never realised ladies went to quite so much trouble. He eyed the clock and tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. Viscount or not, a reservation at Petit Paris was not easy to come by.

  Ellie stood and eyed the several gowns laid out on the chaise. He tapped his feet and waited for the final decision. It was a dress—how hard could the decision be?

  “Ellie...”

  “Yes, I know, Lucian, we are late, but I cannot go out in just anything.” She lifted her hands in annoyance.

  He stood and strode over to the gowns to pick one up and thrust it at her. “Wear this.”

  She shook her head. “No, the fit is not quite right and I shall look pale under the street lights.”

  Lucian dropped the gown and pressed his fingers to his temples before picking up the dark blue gown. “This then. You look fine in blue.”

  “Pale blue, but that is being cleaned.”

  “Ellie, devil take it, it is just a gown. No one shall care.”

  “I shall care. And everyone will care. I am a countess, I have to look as well as I can. It’s all very well for you. You do not even have to work at being handsome, but I—” Her voice cracked and she turned away from him.

  “Handsome? With my scarred face? Hardly.”

  Rounding on him, hands on her hips, she narrowed her gaze at him. “A little scarring is nothing, Lucian.”

  “It is not nothing to me.” His skin prickled as heat flushed through him, driven by annoyance. What was wrong with the woman? And did she really think being burned was nothing to him? Did she know him so little that she had no idea of the pain and anguish it had caused him?

  “No, of course it isn’t,” she said softly. “But you cannot understand what it is like to be forever ugly. To have people look at you and consider how beastly you are.” Ellie spun away again, her shoulders dropping. “Hardly worthy of being a countess.”

  “Ugly? What nonsense is this?” He strode over and grasped her shoulders. He tried to turn her gently but she would not move. Those shoulders began to shake. “Is this because of my careless words when we were younger?”

  “No. Yes.” She sniffled. “But you were only saying what others thought. I know that.”

  “I was a blasted fool.” This time he managed to coax her around and tilt her chin up to view her glossy eyes. “You are beautiful.”

  “I am not and you don’t need to lie to me. Not even Edward thought me beautiful.”

  “You are not like other women, I shall give you that, but that is what I love about you.”

  That word kept coming out during their conversations, did she notice it? What did it mean? But it seemed she was too upset to notice the slip.

  “He could not even find me attractive enough to bed me, you know? Oh, he liked me and was kind to me, but he saw me as nothing more than an awkward girl whom he had to take care of.”

  “Ellie, if he did not bed you, then he was a damn fool.”

  “Edward was an intelligent man and never a fool. He did try...but he could not... could not...” She covered her face with her hands.

  “Could not bed you?”

  “I’m too ugly you see?”

  Realisation dawned at just how she saw herself. He had seen hints of it, of course. Her embarrassment when he had first taken her, her uncertainty as to how attractive he would find her that night.

  “Edward could not bed you, or would not?”

  “He could not get...hard.” She whispered the last bit.

  Lucian shook his head. Poor Ellie. Not only had she suffered his awful treatment of her but she had been lumbered with a husband who was too old to do anything with her. Poor Edward. To have a wife like Ellie and be unable to do anything with her. He pitied them both but he had to admit annoyance with her late husband.

  “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.” He drew her into his arms. “Edward was old. Many men struggle at his age, particularly when they are so active in other parts of their lives. All that travelling likely did the poor man in. It would not have been because he did not want you. Bloody man should have explained as much to you.”

  “I know I am not pretty. It’s all fake, what you see. Make-up and corsets, and carefully cut gowns. It is not me,” she muttered against his shoulder.

  “You are not in one of your gowns now and yet...”

  He clasped a hand and pressed it between them. He was not hard yet but it wouldn’t take much. All he had to do was skim a hand down to cup her rear and breathe in her scent. The light touch of her hand was enough.

  “You are hard.”

  “Yes. And I was when your hair was wild and your make-up was gone. Ellie, you arouse me far too often for it to be comfortable quite frankly. Believe me, there is not a thing wrong with you.” Her throat worked and a flush crept up her face. It made him smile. “The worst you can complain about is too much hair, Ellie. I would gladly swap unruly hair for my scars.”

  “Your scars?”

  “They are ugly, are they not? You see, I am far uglier than you.”

  She reached up to touch his face. “I did not realise it bothered you so much. You are as handsome as ever, Lucian, if not more.”

  Did the woman hope to appeal to his ego and make him forget his purpose of assuring her of her beauty? He smirked. “No make-up or corsets will make up for this.” He released her long enough to gesture to his face. “But I understand your need to hide, Ellie, I really do, even if I do not think you need it. In fact”—he drew her close once more so his arousal pressed into her— “I like that I have you to myself. My Ellie, with her messy hair and naturally flushed cheeks. With her unbound breasts and beautiful endless legs.”

  “Your Ellie?”

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said as much. After all, he’d made her no pro
mises, but the words had felt so right. Instead of repeating them, he nodded and kissed her. Her mouth opened to him and he resolved to spend the rest of the evening proving to her exactly how beautiful he found her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Bottomless Bag

  The faint hint of vanilla told him Ellie had entered his office. He did not look up quite yet. Once he did, he would struggle to persuade himself to finish writing his letter. He hurried to sign it and grimaced at his messy hand. The woman had a lot to answer for, breezing around and distracting him. Though truth be told, it was hardly her fault, it was his. He couldn’t force his mind to ponder anything else, and he was not sure that even if she was a million miles away, he would not think of her.

  He set aside the letter and lifted his head. Her brilliant smile jolted his heart as though she had let loose an arrow and struck him directly there. It would not do. And yet he felt his own foolish response—a wide smile—spreading across his face.

  She wore a pale purple gown and matching bonnet—a splash of brightness against the dark wood of his office. Against his will, his gaze traced her body and recalled every moment he had spent touching her the previous night. They had eaten eventually but Petit Paris would have to wait. After what he had done to her, they were certainly in no state to eat in public. Really his behaviour was quite reprehensible—ravishing her at every turn rather than treating her as a lady.

  “Lucian, it is past lunch time and Mr Fuller tells me you have not eaten yet.”

  He spotted the basket under one arm and lifted a brow. “It’s none of Fuller’s business when I eat.”

  “No, but it is mine.”

  Was it? Since when had it become her business to mollycoddle him? Aggravation rose under his skin, making him clamp a hand around the edge of the desk. But Ellie set down the basket and pulled out sandwiches and a selection of pies and cheese.

  “Are you planning to feed the whole mill?”

  She laughed. “No, just you and I, but I was not sure what you would like, so I had the hotel prepare a little of everything.”

  He eyed the endless amounts of food that kept coming out of the basket and now covered his desk. “A little?” He peered into the basket. “Does that basket even have a bottom?”

  Ellie paused and made a show of staring into it. “Ah yes, it does. And look.” She withdrew a round object wrapped in brown paper. When she pulled off the paper, she revealed a jam sponge cake that made his stomach grumble.

  “Are you trying to expand my waistline, Ellie?”

  She came around to the back of his chair and placed her hands to his shoulders. Her clever fingers began working at the knots in his neck and any annoyance seeped away. With a groan, Lucian rolled his head back and closed his eyes briefly.

  “I am merely trying to make sure you eat and”—she dipped so her breath tickled his ear— “keep up your energy.”

  He spluttered. For a fine lady, she certainly had the naughty lover act down to perfection. He curled a fist again. While every fibre of him came alive at the knowledge he had her to greet him at night, had her long legs to bury himself between, the sordidness of their situation had begun to grate on him.

  After all, she could not stay here forever and certainly his workers were gossiping about their friendship and whether or not it was more. But what else could he do? He didn’t want her to leave, so was he to keep her locked away in a hotel forever, waiting for him to come and take his pleasure? Bitterness rose in his throat. He was treating her as no more than a whore and it would not do.

  “Do not scowl at the thought of using more energy on me,” she said.

  Lucian laid a hand over hers and forced his expression to soften. “Forgive me. It has been a long day already. Come now, will you not partake of this fine meal with me? It is not Petit Paris but I should like to eat with you.”

  “Certainly.” She went to move away but he kept hold of her hand and twisted in his chair to pull her into his lap.

  Ellie gasped and stared up at him, wide-eyed and oh so beautiful. Slowly he pulled out the ribbon holding her bonnet on and found the two pins keeping it in place. Then he placed it on top of a stack of paperwork and used a finger to tilt her face just so. That way he had a perfect view of her features and access to those berry red lips that taunted him constantly.

  He dropped a tender kiss to her lips and that swirl of anxiousness and confusion weaved into his gut again. How could he send her away? How could he keep her here? He had no answers and he didn’t like it.

  “Is all well?” she asked, a little breathless.

  “Of course,” he answered hastily. “Let us eat.” He released her chin and she slid off him to come around the desk and sit opposite.

  Adjusting his trousers, he scanned the table top and shook his head. “I hardly know where to start.”

  “It is a table picnic. Start wherever you wish. We are not in fine company here.”

  “I beg to differ, my love. I am in very fine company here, but I fear I cannot say the same for you.”

  “Not at all. You’re always good company, Lucian.”

  “I am tired and crotchety.”

  “You are, that is true, but I have a high tolerance of tired and crotchety, and I enjoy your company regardless.”

  “You have the patience of a saint, Ellie. How am I to compete with such saintliness?”

  “I do, it is true.” Her lips tilted into a teasing smile. “But if I was saintly, I would not be sharing my bed with you every night.”

  Bloody hell, her new found confidence would be the death of him. He should have continued letting her believe she was an ugly old thing. At least then she would not put his health at risk by sending his heart racing quicker than a train.

  “Devil take it, Ellie, stop speaking like that or I shall not be held responsible for my actions.”

  Amusement twinkled in her grey eyes and she reached for a sandwich to hand it over. “Poor Lucian. You are tired and I am sure you are hungry. Now eat up and I’ll leave you be until tonight.”

  With a grunt, he took the sandwich and his stomach rumbled at the sight of layers of cooked meat between soft bread. “I suppose I cannot object to a small break for lunch.”

  Her smile held a glimmer of triumph and he gritted his teeth. Why did she have to be so blasted sweet and caring? Who had ever brought him food at work? No one, aside from those who were paid handsomely to do so. And did she really have to look at him so...so softly and affectionately? He really didn’t deserve it. He had made her his lover with no offer of anything but pleasure, and here she was looking after him. Perhaps he was not so far from the rake he used to be.

  She really did deserve better, but how could he let her go off and find better? The mere notion of another man enjoying a table picnic with her made him want to crush his sandwich and swipe the rest of the food to the floor so as to throw her down on the table and make love to her until there was no doubt she was his.

  His?

  Lucian savagely bit off a large chunk of sandwich and watched her pick carefully at her own. Each movement of her lips brought fresh need to the surface and thoughts of sweeping aside the food did not seem so ridiculous after all.

  “Did you send word to have those books sent over?” she asked, wiping away a dab of butter with a napkin.

  He wished she had left it. Then he could have licked it off himself. “Yes. They shall be here by tomorrow as per my instructions, though why you should possibly wish to look through them again, I do not know. It’s enough to send me to sleep and it’s my business.”

  “It is also part mine,” she reminded him. “And I must check something. There is something strange but I cannot say what yet.”

  Ignoring the comment about her owning part of the mill, he found two small spots free of food to place his elbows on the table. “You think someone is tweaking the books?”

  “I’m not sure. I do not think it is something as simple as someone stealing. If they were, why draw attent
ion by sabotaging the mill?”

  “As it is, I cannot fathom the saboteur’s motive. Perhaps the police were right, and it is just a mischief maker.”

  “You said yourself you did not believe that.”

  “No, I don’t,” he admitted.

  “We shall get to the bottom of this,” Ellie said confidently.

  We. It held such appeal. We shall get to the bottom of this. Not I. Not he. We.

  “Let us hope so. Your investment shall amount to a grand sum of nought before long if these things keep happening.”

  “I am not here to keep an eye on my investment.”

  “No, you are not.”

  He tried to coax amusement to his lips at her flirtatious hidden meaning, but it did not amuse him. When had it become a sordid deal rather than one that enticed and appealed? Not that he did not wish to have her in his bed, but in such a manner? Sneaking out of her room in the early hours was becoming tiresome. Leaving her was becoming tiresome.

  “Lord Rushbourne, I was not speaking of my reason for being in town, but rather my reason for being at the mill. I am here to help you. You have taken on so very much and I’m aware I’m probably running you ragged.”

  “You speak as though you have forced me into your bed,” he said, aware of his surly tone. “I assure you, no one can force me against my will, not even you, Ellie.”

  “I am well aware of that.” Ellie leaned across and laid a cool hand across the back of his. He eyed the pale fingers against his work-roughened ones. “I am worried for you, Lucian.”

  “Worried for me? Whatever for?”

  “You work so hard and deal with so much. You hardly eat and you barely sleep. Someone must worry for you.”

  “And it should be you?”

  Her shoulders stiffened beneath her shawl. “Well, yes...for the moment.”

  For the moment. Damn it, he did not want it to be a moment. He wanted...What in the blazes did he want? At the same time his heart was softening at the notion of being cared for, annoyance was simmering beneath, but he could not be sure why. Annoyance at his own behaviour perhaps? Anger at treating her like this? Taking all she could offer and giving nothing in return.