Baron

by Joanna Shupe

  “I wasn’t aware you wanted to move to Washington,” she said, looking up at her handsome husband’s profile. Her chest pulled tight, a giddiness bubbling under the surface of her skin. Every time she was in his presence, the same reaction occurred. Would she ever grow immune to the sight of him?

  “Would that be so bad?” He slid his fingers under her jaw, a swift, simple touch that caused her to shiver. His lips twisted into a small smile and he did it again.

  “Stop distracting me,” she said, and slapped his hand away. “This is serious, Will. I am not certain you want me as a political wife.”

  “Darling, who charmed Mrs. Astor at our wedding? Who sweet-talked Cavanaugh’s tough-as-nails thug, Kelly, into waltzing with her at the reception? And who saved a stuffy railroad man from a lifetime of loneliness?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now who is sweet-talking? You know politics is an entirely different thing.”

  “Teddy wasn’t lying. I’ve been keeping the papers from you during our honeymoon, but the new Mrs. Sloane is garnering quite a bit of attention. In fact, Cabot wants an exclusive feature when we return to New York.”

  “On us?”

  “No, on you.”

  Her jaw fell open, and her husband closed it with his finger. “Ava, you’d best accustom yourself to the notoriety. Soon everyone will know why I fell in love with you.”

  The sincerity in his voice and the tenderness on his face caused her heart to swell. She loved this man.

  “No matter what I do,” he was saying, “I want you by my side. I’m not leaving you alone in New York for those other reporters to ogle.” Will was convinced most of the male reporters at the Mercury were half in love with her. A ridiculous notion, but she liked to see him a little jealous on occasion.

  But her, a political wife? “Will—”

  “Ava, you can do whatever you set your mind to. You may not have a spiritual gift, but you have remarkable powers all the same.”

  “Are you certain you wouldn’t rather keep Northeast? It’s not too late to change your mind, and your stomach pain has improved.”

  They’d had this conversation a hundred times, and his answer never wavered. “No. Selling to Cavanaugh was the best decision. The two companies together will give Carnegie a run for his money. Literally. That’s why I’m staying on the board of the new company, so I’ll have a hand in. Besides, I thought you liked having me around.”

  “Which I won’t, if you run for political office.”

  “Then I’ll say no.”

  “You would do that?”

  He put his hands on her cheeks, holding her stare with serious gray eyes. “There is nothing I would not do for you, wife. Nothing. You mean more than any position, office, nomination, or company.”

  She knew he meant it, and her heart swelled with emotion. This man was everything to her, and preventing him from doing more was pure selfishness on her part. Will had the charisma, drive, and intelligence to enact real change in this country. Why would she deny him that opportunity?

  “I think I need convincing,” she said in the low husky rasp he adored.

  His mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Do you?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. Will took her elbow and began leading them through the crowd. “You look tired. Perhaps I should show you to a bedchamber where you can rest for a spell.”

  “Don’t you mean where we can rest for a spell?”

  “Oh, my dear. I might be lying down but I will definitely not be resting.”

  Keep reading for a special preview of Mogul,

  the next book in the Knickerbocker Club series,

  coming in February 2017!

  As owner of a well-respected national newspaper,

  Calvin Cabot has the means to indulge his capricious

  taste for excess—and the power to bring the upper crust

  of society to its knees. So when a desperate heiress begs

  for his help, Calvin agrees . . . as long as she promises

  to stay out of his way. Except, like the newsman,

  this willful beauty always gets what she wants....

  Infamous Lillian Davies lives a life brimming with

  boundless parties, impressive yachts, and exotic

  getaways. But when her equally notable brother

  disappears, Lily knows that blood runs thicker than

  champagne, and she’ll spare nothing to bring him back

  alive. Unfortunately, the only man who can help her

  is the one she never wanted to see again. Can Lily keep

  Calvin at arm’s length long enough to save her brother

  and protect her name . . . even when the tenacious

  powerbroker turns out to be absolutely irresistible?

  Don’t miss Magnate, out now,

  and Tycoon, available as an eBook novella!

  And look for Joanna Shupe’s Wicked Deceptions series

  wherever books are sold . . .

  Chinatown

  New York City

  April 1889

  She never expected to find her former husband in an opium den.

  Lily inwardly cursed her terrible luck and turned to the man standing next to her, the one who’d found her quarry. “How long has he been here?”

  “Two days, ma’am.”

  Good heavens. Dark and depressing, the place reeked of a nutty, sweet scent, one that forced her to cover her nose and breathe through her mouth. Males and females of all ages and skin colors reclined, glassy-eyed, on small cots, long pipes remaining within reach. Several scantily clad women hovered nearby, as did the owner, who no doubt wanted her gone.

  Which made two of them. She would rather be sailing on the Chesapeake or lounging in her family’s Newport cottage. Riding her horse in Palm Beach. Shopping in Paris. Anywhere but standing right here, looking at the one man she’d hoped never to see again.

  Calvin Cabot. She peered at him while he slept and tried to assess the changes, if any, that had occurred over the last four years. Still long-limbed and well proportioned. Impossibly handsome, despite the shaggy light brown hair and the whiskers covering his face. He also stank, if the odor reaching her nose was any indication.

  He’d ignored her letters for almost two weeks, each one returned, unopened. Furthermore, every time she arrived at his office or his home, he’d disappeared. No matter the hour, no matter which day she chose, he remained one step ahead of her. There had been no choice but to hire investigators and kidnap him.

  They had a delicate problem, one he needed to help solve before someone else discovered it.

  Yet she’d never expected to find him here. Was he addicted to the pipe? The man ran two of the city’s most popular newspapers as well as another in Chicago. How did he manage a hop habit and his empire? Not that she’d ever understood him. They had been oil and water—or, as Calvin had been fond of saying, oil and champagne. Though he hadn’t always hated the wealth and privilege her family represented....

  “What would you like to do, ma’am?” the man at her side asked. Mr. Jessup, he’d said. She’d hired twelve men to find Calvin, and Jessup had been the one to earn her two thousand dollar reward.

  Lily turned to the owner. “How much does this man owe?”

  Avarice lit the owner’s dark eyes, far from the first time Lily observed that emotion when someone noticed her clothing and jewels. But she was her father’s daughter, not some silly, easily intimidated female. For goodness’ sake, she’d served as the president of the Davies Mining Company since her father’s death. No one got the best of Lillian Davies.

  “Three hundred.”

  She laughed at the outrageous sum. “Now the real amount.”

  The owner glanced at Mr. Jessup, obviously weighing his chances of flimflamming her out of more money without getting pummeled. Not that Lily would ask the Pinkerton to step in. She did not need a man to solve her problems.

  “One hundred and twenty dollars,” the owner said.

  Li
ly nodded, though she’d have paid more. She desperately needed Calvin. “Fine.”

  The transaction was completed quickly, and she turned to Mr. Jessup, who hadn’t left her side since they arrived. Pointing at the unconscious man on the cot, she said, “Throw him in the carriage, if you would.”

  Hotel Fauchère

  Pocono Mountains, Pennsylvania

  Four years ago

  “Lily, darling, the skin on the side of my cock is beginning to chafe—”

  “Poor man.” Lily bent and used her tongue to soothe the abused area. Calvin, her husband of less than three weeks, fell back on the bed and let out a moan comprised of equal parts pain and bliss. “Let me help you.”

  “You’re not actually helping,” he wheezed as she dropped kisses along the sensitive skin. His body responded immediately, with his erection growing, expanding beneath her lips. Instead of pushing her away, strong fingers threaded her blond hair, pulling the strands away from her face, exposing her ministrations to his hungry blue gaze. “This is what caused the trouble in the first place. A man needs recovery time, woman.”

  Lily ignored him, fully focused on her task. She loved the way he tasted, how the smooth velvet length felt on her tongue. Soft skin stretched tight over hardness. Most of all, she loved how he responded to each and every thing she did, like he couldn’t get enough of her. She understood the feeling well; she didn’t ever want to stop touching or kissing him. Didn’t want to stop breathing his same air. In fact, since the honeymoon began twenty days ago, they had barely even left the bed.

  The courtship had happened quickly, with the two of them introduced a mere two months before they decided to elope. While many would call her foolish, Lily hadn’t been more certain of anything in her entire life. Calvin was everything she wanted. Intelligent and adventurous, he worked tirelessly as a reporter for the New York Bugle, where he championed the causes of those less fortunate. Exposed corruption. Revealed the hypocrisy in New York politics. He was handsome as well, with brown hair and bright blue eyes, and a tall, slim build that vibrated with energy and confidence. He had ambition and strong convictions, a man who would achieve wondrous heights in his lifetime. Lily looked forward to assisting him every step of the way.

  No doubt her father would require convincing to accept the marriage, but Lily had her arguments ready. Calvin maintained that Warren Davies would be furious his only daughter had married a mere reporter, a man without money or prestige, but Lily had faith in her father. After all, he’d gone off to the Dakotas in his teens to earn his fortune and emerged with a prosperous silver mine. He respected hard work and determination, any man who relied on his wits and guts to make his way in the world. Undoubtedly he would come to like Calvin once the two became acquainted.

  She released Calvin with a wet pop, and her husband’s erection dropped to his stomach. “Do you want me to stop?” she purred, dragging her fingernails up the insides of his thighs.

  Calvin shivered. “God, please no. I know I don’t have much, but I’ll sign it all over to you if you’ll just let me in deeper—Yes, like that,” he groaned when she reapplied hot, slick suction. “Oh, if this kills me, it’ll be worth it.”

  He rarely stopped talking, even during intimate moments. Words were not only his livelihood, they were both a source of comfort and a weapon. Intent on shutting him up, she reached below to roll his balls in her palm, squeezing gently, and he stiffened. “Faster,” he said. “Tighter. Jesus, Lily, I’m burning alive.”

  She doubled her efforts, bobbing up and down, lips pulling, tongue fluttering, until his muscles began shaking. The rougher she was with him, the more she scratched and squeezed, the more he loved it. Soon he cursed, his hips rocking as he thrust into her mouth. With a shout, he spent down her throat, his body atremble.

  When the pulses finally ceased, she shifted to press kisses to the red scratch marks she’d left on the taut plane of his abdomen. Her own core was wet with desire, arousal throbbing in time with her heart. How long would he need to recover?

  “Come here, you witch.” Large hands slipped under her arms and lifted her over his body. His expression achingly tender, he pressed a kiss to her lips. She relished the taste of him, the way their lips fit together so perfectly, the rasp of his tongue as he invaded her mouth. Love burst in her chest, every pore filled with a sense of rightness that settled in her bones. “I love you madly,” she whispered when they broke apart.

  The backs of his knuckles found her cheek, and he rubbed the skin gently. His blue eyes were dark, drunk with pleasure, his smile crooked. “I love you utterly and completely, Lily my love. Forever and always.”

  Her heart swelled behind her ribs. “How lucky I am to have met you.”

  “The fortune is entirely on my side. You’re Lillian Davies, you could have your choice of men—”

  She placed a finger over his lips. “If that is true then I choose you, Calvin—and you’re being modest. I know there is a string of women in your past.” Though he may not have been wealthy, Calvin was the type of man that women watched. Striking looks and lanky build, he exuded power and grace, with a swagger to his gait that stopped just shy of bravado. His sharp eyes missed nothing, while a twinkle in the blue depths hinted at a secret joke. This was a man who caused a woman’s mind to turn to wickedness. To wonder what the devil might be capable of inside a bedroom . . .

  How fortunate that she no longer needed to stare and wonder. No, she knew precisely what talents he possessed in this area—and she had no intention of ever giving him up.

  “In my past, perhaps, and that is where they shall stay.” He cupped her breast, clever fingers teasing the nipple until it peaked under his touch.

  “They had better. I have no intention of sharing you, not with anyone.”

  He squeezed the tender, plump mound, causing her to gasp. “Nor I you. All those beaux you were stringing along better be cut when we return to New York.”

  “Stringing along?” She tweaked his nipple, and he gave a gasp this time. “Take that back. I do not string men along.”

  “Are you growing angry? You know what it does to me when you’re peeved.” Removing her hand from his chest, he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tips. “And I count no fewer than four of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors who hope to ensnare you, my lovely. Shall I name them?”

  “They merely want my father’s fortune, not plain Lily, the stubborn, bossy daughter of a miner.”

  “You are wrong. I see how they stare at you, with adoration in their eyes, not greed. It’s the exact same manner in which I stare at you.”

  Her belly warmed and dipped, and she held the compliment close, never wanting to forget the sweetness this man had brought to her life. She tangled her legs with his, rubbing his rough skin with the soft pads of her feet. “The night we met, you asked me to dance. I had no idea who you were.”

  “I didn’t know your name, only that you were the most beautiful, captivating woman in the room. I couldn’t stay away. I had to learn all I could about you, touch you, even if just to dance.”

  “And you, the mysterious reporter in the room, watching the party with observant, clever eyes. No one quite had a clue what to make of you.”

  “I think most of the crowd mistook me for a footman,” he said wryly.

  “Not a chance. Your bearing is about as subservient as . . .”

  “Yours?” he offered.

  She laughed, and his lips found her throat. He nipped and licked, teased her skin, until she squirmed against him. Desperate. Wanting. “How much recovery time did you say you needed?”

  He rolled her onto her back and settled between her thighs. “My lovely Lily, my mouth never needs any recovery time.” Sliding down her body, he kissed a trail to the very heart of her and proceeded to steal her breath.

  * * *

  A knock on the hotel room door penetrated Calvin’s brain. He stirred, fighting the effects of both sleep and an insatiable wife, stretching out the sorenes
s in his lower back. Only one person would dare to disturb them, and Calvin knew he would not knock unless it was urgent.

  Hoping not to wake his wife, Calvin shifted to the edge of the mattress and reached for his trousers. Wife. He liked saying that. He liked it quite a lot. His childhood had been spent traveling the globe with parents devoted to spreading their religion, never staying in one place for very long. Temporary lodgings, temporary friends. Never anything permanent or real—not until Lily. She now belonged to him.

  He glanced over his shoulder to glimpse her sleeping form. Blond hair streamed over the cream sheets like a streak of sunshine. She lay on her side, both hands under her cheek, prayer-like. Emotion welled up in his chest, a feeling he’d never allowed himself to even contemplate before. They were from two different worlds; Lily’s comprised of parties and champagne, while his was one of sheer determination and grit. Yet somehow it worked.

  Another knock brought Calvin to the door. Hugo, his best friend and sometime valet, stood in the hall, eyes full of worry. “Her father’s here.”

  Calvin froze. “Her father? Lily’s father? Here?” At Hugo’s nod, Calvin’s stomach plummeted to the ground. “Shit. He’s supposed to be in Dakota.”

  Hugo shrugged. “All I know is he’s downstairs, right now, asking for you.”

  Calvin’s mind spun. He hadn’t met Warren Davies, but he knew the man’s reputation. A hard-hearted businessman who crushed rebellion and dissension by any means possible, even bloodshed. The last attempt to organize a union at Davies’s silver mine had resulted in the death of over fifty men. Davies was known for getting what he wanted . . . and Calvin suspected this would not be a pleasant visit.

  “Give me two minutes and I’ll be down.”

  He shut the door and hurried to collect his clothes off the floor. Though he’d bathed regularly, he hadn’t worn clothing in at least a week, not since he’d left the room to buy Lily ice cream from a parlor down the street—a treat he’d licked off her delectable, naked body, he recalled with a smile. He found his shirt, clean but wrinkled, and his necktie was a crumpled mess. Not exactly the way he’d wanted to meet his father-in-law.