Baron

by Joanna Shupe

  He rapped on the carriage wall with the silver knob of his cane. The wheels started moving and silence descended, with Sloane concentrating on the scene beyond the window. His avoidance annoyed her. “Well?”

  His head slowly swiveled, one brow lifting. “Yes?”

  She wanted to smack his arm. “What happened in there?”

  “I retrieved your brother,” he said calmly. “As you asked.”

  “And?”

  He shifted toward her, his gray eyes shining. Strong jaw and sensual mouth, he was a striking man. Even when she was annoyed with him, which was often, she could not help but notice him. “What would you like to know, Ava? Merely ask it already.”

  Why was my brother smiling? What did the two of you talk about? Was he mistreated in there? Why do I want to both kiss and strangle you at the same time?

  The questions raced through her mind, the last one in particular causing her to jerk slightly. Where had that come from? She didn’t want to kiss Will Sloane. Everything about him was too controlled, too proper. He’d probably never experienced true passion of any kind. She couldn’t picture his hair mussed from a woman’s fingers, or his clothes rumpled from a partner’s impatience.

  Dirty and sweaty were two words she’d never associate with Will Sloane, even in the bedroom.

  “Why are you staring at my mouth?”

  He’d whispered the question in a deep rasp that suggested he knew the answer. Embarrassed, Ava tore her gaze away—only to discover him watching her own mouth with the rapt attention of a predator waiting to pounce. Her heart pounded furiously under her corset, the steady beat far too loud in her ears. Unconsciously she licked her lips to moisten them. “Why are you staring at my mouth?”

  “Because it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She focused on breathing, desperate to ignore whatever regrettable feelings she’d developed for this man. No good could come of the sudden fullness of her breasts or the rhythmic pulse between her thighs. But there was no escape from it, no respite from the charge building between them. Even if she dashed from the carriage, this thing, this dratted attraction, would follow her.

  “I know what I would like in exchange for helping your brother tonight.”

  She blinked and tried to regain her equilibrium. Focus, Ava. “To attend your rally in Albany.”

  “No, you were going to do that regardless. I’ve decided I want something else.”

  The arrogance astounded her. She’d never agreed to travel to Albany and had no intention of going. Better to leave that conversation for another time. As in never. “What, then?”

  “I want you to kiss me.”

  Her breath caught. A rush of longing filled her, spreading through her veins like whiskey and causing her head to spin. It had been forever since she’d felt this way about another person, a blinding desire to pleasure and be pleasured in return. For some insane reason, she was attracted to Will Sloane and part of her longed to act on it.

  Yet kissing him would only complicate matters. He already acted as if he had the right to order her around; physical intimacies would only worsen that tendency. No one owned Ava Jones. “Absolutely not.”

  He cocked his head. “Why? I know you’re feeling what I’m feeling. It’s too strong to be one-sided, Ava.”

  Confirmation he was equally attracted to her did not help her resolve. Instead, her belly warmed, the heat moving lower, until she shifted in her seat. Remember the last time you lost your head over a kiss? Remember the last time you allowed a rich, handsome man to tell you what to do?

  Memories of Stephen van Dunn reminded her to keep her distance from William Sloane. She lifted her chin. “Tell me about my brother. You were in there quite a long time.”

  His lids fell, shuttering his gaze, and he relaxed. “The captain needed some persuading. Also, I wanted to speak with Thomas alone.”

  “Why?”

  “For a private discussion between men. No need for you to worry over it.”

  Did he just . . . ? Yes, he had. A sharp throbbing erupted at her temples. “Do not condescend to me. That may work with the other women in your life, but it will not work with me.”

  His eyes snapped to hers, the steel gray unreadable in the dull lamplight. “Is that what you are? A woman in my life?”

  Of course she hadn’t meant that. “I’m the woman trying to get out of your life.”

  “Yes, I suppose that is why you sought me out this evening. To get out of my life.”

  She had no response, though she could feel her face growing hot. She’d needed a favor and Will had been the only option. “Well, after tonight, you’ll never see me again.”

  “Wrong. You still owe me payment.”

  A kiss. Anticipation thrummed in her blood, a reaction she steadfastly tried to ignore. “I won’t kiss you.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “For many reasons, the biggest of which is that you ordered me instead of asking me.”

  Will’s mouth hitched as if he were fighting a smile. “Is that so?” He leaned forward, bringing one arm up to rest on the opposite side of the carriage, pinning her in. Instead of fighting, her body grew even warmer, a buzz building under her skin. A horrifying emptiness ached between her legs.

  His face now disarmingly near, she could see the hint of evening stubble on his chin. Small lines curved at the edges of his striking eyes—were those from smiling?—and the flush on his unblemished, pale skin suggested he was aroused as well. Sadly, the idea only made him more appealing.

  “Intriguing you didn’t refuse for a lack of desire.” His head dipped, and she froze, unsure what he would do, but his lips merely hovered near her ear. The warm air from his mouth made her shiver—and her resistance began melting like a block of ice on a hot New York street in August.

  They stayed there for what felt like an eternity, his face a breath away, the two of them caught on a tightrope above a yawning, dangerous chasm. He was already close, but she craved more, and she had to restrain herself from pressing forward and kissing him. Heavens, she’d never wanted something so badly in her life. She could hear his breathing, fast and harsh, in her ear, the pace matching her own rapid exhalations. What is happening here?

  “Will you kiss me, Ava? Please?”

  The last word, whispered over her burning skin, did her in. She hadn’t thought Will Sloane even knew the word please, let alone was able to utter it in such a deep, rough tone. Without thinking, without blinking, she lunged and fit her mouth to his. There were no concerns about the future or worries about the past. Only now existed, only satisfying this unbelievable longing to taste him. To see if she could shake his controlled exterior.

  The instant their lips touched, his mouth turned hard and hungry, lips molding to hers, with his hands coming up to cup her jaw and hold her in place. Had she thought him cold? How utterly wrong she’d been. Fire leapt between them, his lips firm and fervent against hers as the kiss turned scorching. She gripped the lapels of his coat to hang on, her head spinning, and then he opened his mouth to slide his tongue along the seam of her lips. She inhaled sharply, then quickly parted to allow him in. He drew her closer as his tongue delved inside, a wicked glide of lush heat that tasted of expensive spirits and spice.

  For all his buttoned-up demeanor, Will’s kisses were the opposite. Demanding and full of sinful promise. A hint of barely controlled passion lurked under the surface, like steam building inside a kettle. She suddenly wanted to see him unravel, completely undone and unguarded because of her.

  No telling how long it went on. Ava lost track of time, her surroundings, her mind . . . There was nothing but lips and tongues, along with the shared breath that could have sustained her all night. The kiss was not gentle or decent; rather, it was messy and harsh—and Ava relished every sigh and grunt that came out of his mouth.

  When he broke off, she experienced a pang of disappointment—until his lips began traveling down the column of her throat. Oh, thank heavens he
isn’t stopping. She threw her head back and reveled in the feverish trail of teeth and tongue over her sensitive skin. Her back arched, breasts aching with the need for his attention. She could not get close enough, could not get enough of what he was doing to her.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured into her neck.

  The words fell over her like a blanket of icy snow. She’d heard them before, these false compliments, also from an older, wealthy man who hadn’t meant them any more than Will did. A cold numbness settled in her chest, and she pushed on his shoulders. “Stop.” She inhaled and gathered her resolve. “You need to stop now.”

  * * *

  Will stumbled back, his mind confused while lust roared through his blood. Then he noted the vulnerability in Ava’s wide brown gaze, a look he hardly recognized. What had happened? He was certain she’d been enjoying their kiss, but something had put her off.

  Stupid to have begged for the kiss, but he’d needed one small taste to get her off his mind for good. That plan failed miserably, considering his hunger for her had only intensified. He dragged a hand down his face and collected his breath. “That went further than I intended.”

  “Further than we both intended, I think.”

  The knot in Will’s stomach tightened somewhat as she continued in a remote, withdrawn voice.

  “However, let’s not turn this into something it’s not. You asked me to kiss you, so I kissed you. Consider it a thank you for helping with Tom.”

  Helping with Tom? Her indifference rankled, especially when he could still drive spikes with his rock-hard erection. She’d been equally caught up, so why act as if the kiss had meant so little? “Am I to believe that was your only motivation?”

  “Were you expecting something more?” she returned.

  Anger swept through him, swiftly replacing the desire in his veins. He should let it go, leave her alone. Hell, it was downright necessary to walk away from this woman. She was a spectacle, a swindler one step away from prison. No matter her noble reasons, she fleeced people for a living. He couldn’t respect that—and neither would voters if a whiff of their association were made public.

  And yet . . .

  There was something about Ava that drew him in, like one of the rubes eager to believe in her “powers.” She fascinated him, not something Will could often say of a woman. This city could chew a person up and spit him out . . . yet she had thrived on her own terms. And she certainly wasn’t afraid of him, using every opportunity possible to inform him he was wrong. Beyond her tough-as-nails exterior he’d glimpsed a softer, more caring side that intrigued him. What would it take to experience that softer, tender side for himself?

  In his world, a woman was entirely predictable and appropriate, with no surprises to worry over when you escorted her to dinner or an event. Such as the debutantes under his consideration for marriage. Each was descended from a proper, old New York family and would conduct herself in a manner entirely befitting a political wife—not run around the city dressed in a costume, performing a two-bit sideshow.

  This needed to end, here and now. He had more important things to occupy his time with, like campaigning and finding a wife—not dallying with Madam Zolikoff.

  “Fine,” he said. “Unlikely we’ll have cause to see each other after next Saturday, regardless.”

  She turned to him, a frown pulling at her full lips. “Next Saturday?”

  “Have you forgotten already? The rally in Albany.”

  A gloved hand waved dismissively. “I am not attending one of your rallies, railroad man, and certainly not all the way up in Albany.”

  “The journey is merely three hours by train. I’ll procure you a ticket. You can take the Northeast Limited departing at eight-oh-five. Even the nine twenty should get you there shortly after noon.”

  “Do you have all the train tables memorized?” she asked, studying him.

  He blinked at the odd question. “For most of my trains out of New York, indeed, I do.”

  She gave no response and silence descended. A quick look told him the carriage was traveling on the West Side, along Bank Street. Tom would have given the direction to Will’s driver, which meant Will would soon learn where she lived. Somehow he was unsurprised to find her living not far from his Washington Square home. Fate had certainly been frowning on him as of late.

  She studied the scene out the window, resolutely ignoring him. He wished he could ignore her, but it was impossible. Every cell in his body was aware of her, now imprinted with the memory of how she tasted, the hungry little moans and sighs she gave, the way she made his blood boil. Despite his earlier resolve, he’d very much like to kiss her again.

  Get a hold of yourself, man. Have you no dignity?

  The carriage slowed and then halted before a sturdy red-brick building. Number fifty-seven. He filed that away. “Nice lodgings.” Admirable that she’d moved her family here from the cramped quarters of the Lower East Side.

  “Thank you. Again, I am grateful for your efforts in gaining Tom’s release.”

  “My pleasure, and I look forward to seeing you next Saturday.”

  Her shoulders stiffened, and she pierced him with a frosty glare completely at odds with the woman who’d just kissed him more vigorously than he’d ever anticipated. “A gracious offer, your ultimatum, but I am fairly certain I said no.”

  “Yes, but I’ve not told you the reason you will definitely attend.”

  “Oh? And what might that reason be?” Her mouth curved into a smirk, as if there were nothing he could say that would convince her.

  “Because I’ve given your brother a position in my offices, starting Monday.”

  Her lips parted on a gasp. “You gave Tom a job? Doing what?”

  “Not picking pockets, that’s for certain. But he won’t have a position for long if you don’t come to the rally.”

  “Blackmail again?” she snapped. “Do you have any scruples whatsoever?”

  He nearly smiled. Hadn’t he asked her that very thing not too long ago? And she should already know the answer. He had no scruples whatsoever when it came to getting what he wanted. In fact, he’d already cabled the Society for Mediumship Research on Tuesday as promised—not that he’d mention that now. Let her find out when the Society arrived and debunked her claims.

  “None, in fact, and we are obviously well matched in that regard. Did you honestly believe I’d play fairly?”

  Loathing washed over her features, but she seemed to consider his words. “Are you saying you’ll fire Tom if I don’t come to your ridiculous rally?”

  “Without doubt.” A lie, but he’d learned Ava’s weakness—her siblings—and Will would use that information to his advantage whenever possible. “And you must stay for the afternoon. No skipping out after the parade.”

  A face appeared in the window. Tom stood on the walk and had obviously grown impatient. “Ava, Mr. Sloane,” he called. “Is everything all right?”

  Will quirked a brow at her, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring the boy. “Well, Ava? What’s it going to be?”

  Her jaw worked, undoubtedly curbing all the curse words she wanted to lodge at him. Just the idea of her ire had his body stirring. Christ. He almost believed she did possess powers of some kind, based on the way she affected him.

  “Why must I be there?”

  “To see why I need you to stay away from Bennett. We cannot give the opposition anything to use in a smear campaign against us. The fight will be dirty enough once the conventions are over.”

  “Fine,” she gritted out. “But I won’t pay for my own ticket. It’s a dratted waste of money.”

  He conceded that with a dip of his chin. “I’ll have a ticket delivered by Thursday.”

  “If I hear that you’ve mistreated him . . .”

  “You have my word that I will not.”

  Shoving his hat on his head, he threw open the door and stepped down, then extended his hand to assist her from the brougham. Ava’s brow lowere
d in confusion, yet she placed her fingers in his gloved hand and shifted her skirts to descend. When her heels touched the walk, she jerked her fingers from his grasp. A pretty pink blush had erupted over her cheeks, and Will wondered over the meaning of such a reaction. Embarrassment or—dear God in heaven—arousal?

  “Mr. Sloane.” She dipped her head as if they’d just passed each other during an afternoon stroll on Fifth Avenue—not shared a kiss that would feature in his erotic dreams for weeks to come.

  “Miss Jones.” He purposely drew out her last name before tipping his hat in farewell.

  Her mouth flattened in silent rebuke, but she pivoted to march toward the building entrance. Will’s gaze lingered over her form, from the straight shoulders and small waist, to the furious sway of her skirts over her bustle. What he wouldn’t give to see—

  “Good night, Mr. Sloane.” Tom started after his sister, but Will held out a hand.

  “Thomas, a word.” Ava swung around, and Will gave her a pointed look. “Alone.”

  She did not care for that, fire crackling in her light brown eyes, yet she disappeared inside without another word. Waiting for her brother just inside the door, no doubt.

  “Why did Ava look so damn angry?” Tom asked. The lad’s expression was just shy of being perceptive. Another few years and he’d better understand the ways between men and women.

  “I couldn’t say,” Will lied. “But remember my advice. You gave her quite a scare tonight. And if I hadn’t been at home, you might have ended up in the Tombs. You owe her an apology.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Also, a gentleman does not curse, Tom. If you must, use ‘dratted’ or ‘dashed’ instead of ‘damn.’”

  The boy’s face, smudged with dirt, screwed up. “I ain’t no gentleman, Mr. Sloane.”

  “As of Monday, when you step inside the Northeast Railroad off ices, you are. Start acting like it. Now, do you have any suitable work attire?”

  Tom glanced down at his shabby clothing and color lit his cheeks. “I don’t . . . That is, I could—”

  “Never mind. I shall have some things sent over tomorrow. Consider it a starting advance.”