The room fell silent for a second time, but it was Miranda who everyone was staring at this time. Even her mother, who was mostly studying Ethan’s letter with a focused smile, wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” Penelope asked, her hands coming to her hips. “You have only met the man a few times, yourself. And you know his reputation!”
Miranda shifted, silently berating herself for her outburst. She had no need to defend Ethan and the action only foolishly brought attention to her.
“I-I only mean that he must be generous in some fashion or he wouldn’t have made such an offer.” She shrugged and kept her gaze away from Penelope’s. Her sister could read her too well. “I agree with Mother. Perhaps it’s best not to argue or explain away this unexpected gift, Penelope. We must accept it and try to make the most of this Season he wants to give you.”
Penelope stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. “You agree with Mother?” she repeated blankly.
Beatrice chuckled. “This is a first.”
Even Winifred looked incredulous.
“It’s the first sensible thing she’s said in months,” her mother sniffed. “I must begin making arrangements. There will be new gowns to order, we must find a flat in London for the Season. Oh, it shall be beyond wonderful!”
“Mother!” Miranda threw her hands in the air. They’d had the promise of money for all of two minutes and already her mother had spent it all and then some. “We do not even know how much he intends to—”
Their mother waved her protests off and made for the door. “Come along Penelope, Winifred, Beatrice.”
Her younger sisters followed immediately, but Penelope stayed where she was, continuing to stare at Miranda with an incredulous expression. Miranda fought to keep her own countenance free of any emotion. The last thing she wanted was for Penelope to ferret out the truth. No doubt her sheltered sister would be shocked if she knew the lengths Miranda had gone to.
“I’ll be along in a moment, Mama,” Penelope said softly. “I wish to talk to Miranda first.”
“There is so much to do. Don’t be long!” their mother ordered before she swept from the room and left the two older sisters alone.
Penelope tilted her head. “Did you know of this before Mama received Rothschild’s missive?”
Miranda’s eyes went wide. “Of course not, why would you believe that?”
“Your reaction, Miranda! You agree with Mother, who dashes headlong into all circumstances without thought for the consequences? Surely you cannot think Rothschild will host this Season without expecting something in return.” Penelope shivered. “Remember what Mr. Stephanson wanted.”
Miranda winced. He was the man who had asked for their youngest sister, Winifred, in order to repay the debt their father owed him. Even their mother had not been ready to stoop so low.
“Lord Rothschild is not anything like that…that…” She bit back a slew of curses. “That person. If the Earl says that he owed father something, why not allow him to repay it in this fashion? It will solve so many of our concerns.”
Her sister shook her head and worry was bright in her eyes. Miranda sighed. Penelope was only thinking of the family’s good with her protests and Miranda could hardly blame her. In any other situation, she would have been asking the very same questions.
If only she could explain, but that wasn’t possible. Her sister would be horrified if Miranda admitted the truth.
She took her sister’s hand instead. “This is what I want you to do, Pen.”
Penelope smiled at the childhood nickname. “What, Mir?”
“Take this Season you’re being offered. Enjoy every last moment of it. Dance. Laugh. Maybe even fall in love, if you can—though if you can fall in love with a rich man, it would be better.”
Penelope laughed.
Miranda’s smile fell a little. “Whatever you do, don’t worry yourself about Lord Rothschild or anything else. Let me take care of him.”
Her sister sighed. “Just be wary of the price he wants us to pay for his ‘kindness’. It may turn out to be too high, Miranda.”
With that, her sister pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and slipped from the room, leaving Miranda to rub her hands across her temples. In just a few days, she would be back at Ethan’s home, paying the price Penelope had mused about.
That was, if Ethan even still wanted her. If he didn’t, that might be the highest price of all.
Ethan paced his chamber, hating how his gaze slipped to the clock on his mantel. Time seemed to inch forward, tormenting him with every tick of the seconds.
It was Friday.
Normally, the days of the week were meaningless to Ethan, especially in the country. But now, in short order, Friday had taken on a different meaning to him. It meant Miranda.
Never before had he been so obsessed with a woman. Especially one who he had only been with once in over two weeks. Normally, he would have been with his mistress a dozen or more times already. In fact, he would already be bored and restless, driven to more and more outrageous sex to slake his desires and hold his interest.
But Miranda…Miranda was different. She had been on his mind every moment, every hour since she left just a week ago. He found himself wondering what she was doing or who she was with. What she was wearing and if she was thinking of him.
Those wandering thoughts often came up at the most inopportune moments. While doing some business with his estate manager, for example. Or during a visit with an old friend who had passed through the shire a few days earlier and commented on Ethan’s shocking lack of companionship. Even an offer to visit a local courtesan had held no appeal to him. Not when compared to Miranda.
He didn’t want this need to be with her more than any other woman. He didn’t want this…this strange caring about her welfare. And today he would regain control over his emotions and her body.
His door opened and Winston put his head into the room. “Miss Albright awaits you in the, er, other chamber, my lord. Will you require anything this morning?”
Ethan’s blood roared hot at the fact that Miranda was here in his home, waiting for him in the room he’d built for sex and sex alone. God, he wanted to touch her. Taste her.
“Privacy,” he said as he marched to the door and past the butler. “All we shall require is privacy unless I call for you.”
He didn’t hear Winston’s reply over the rush of blood in his ears. His body and mind were too occupied with getting to Miranda to pay attention to anything else.
He thrust open the outer door to his special chamber and came to a halt at the inner one. Calm. Control. He had to remember those things. He could have his pleasure and he intended to do just that. But he couldn’t let Miranda’s innocence corrupt him, for lack of a better word.
He threw open the door, letting it fly back to collide against the opposite wall. Miranda was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bed, but she jumped at the loud crash of wood on wood and spun to face him.
Ethan took a deep breath as he stared at her.
He had always been the kind of man who found himself crossing rooms to speak to women who were blatant. Even the proper widows who had graced his bed had all been daring in their attire. Low necklines and bold colors were normally his siren song.
But with Miranda, things were different, as seemed to be the theme. Here she stood, surrounded by black velvet and tools of sex, yet her demure sensuality attracted him more than anything else. She wore an icy blue gown that matched the stunning color of her eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of outfit meant to summon men to her side. The neckline was fashionable, but didn’t reveal her cleavage. The fabric wasn’t sheer in any places, nor did it scream out to be touched.
So why did her mere appearance make his erection spring to life?
Perhaps it was the very fact that her gown didn’t proclaim her intent and desire. She wasn’t on display for any man to ogle at. She was his. He was the only man wh
o knew what her breasts looked like as her gown fell away from them. The only man to have touched her in an intimate way. The only one who had experienced the searing passion that masqueraded under her exterior of a proper miss.
Those facts were surprisingly powerful.
“Hello, Ethan,” she said, tilting her head to look at him.
He realized he had been standing completely motionless, staring at her for at least a full minute.
“Good morning,” he managed to say as he pulled the door shut behind him.
Her gaze shifted to the door and he thought he saw relief in her expression.
“I admit, I was nervous about coming here,” she said softly as she watched him move toward her.
He stopped. “Nervous? Why?”
“Your note to my mother on Monday made me worried that I had displeased you in some way,” she admitted after a pause. Her cheeks turned a charming pink as she looked away from him to stare at the floorboards.
He drew back in surprise. “I am living up to my part of the agreement. I offered to sponsor your first sister’s Season. That was what you wanted, was it not?”
She shifted slightly and continued to stare anyplace but his face. “Yes, of course, but I have not…that is, I’ve only come here one Friday. I haven’t yet earned her Season.”
Ethan shrugged. “You have earned one quarter of our arranged price. As long as you continue to come and do as we agreed you would, I see no reason why I shouldn’t render my payments as we go.” He stepped toward her, unable to keep himself from being near her. “You don’t intend to renege, do you?”
Her gaze finally met his and she caught her breath, almost like she’d forgotten what he looked like and was reminded when he came closer. His blood burned as her lips parted on a tiny sigh.
“No, Ethan,” she whispered.
“Were you upset when you believed me to be disappointed?” he asked, reaching for her. He caught her forearm and pulled her against his chest, molding her body to his own.
She caught her breath and her pupils dilated with desire. “Y-Yes.”
“Because you thought you had lost the chance to help your family?” he pressed as he threaded his fingers into her blonde hair and let the pins holding her style clatter to the floor around her. “Or was it because of some other reason?”
She let out a little whimper as her hair fell around her shoulders in a fragrant wave. “Ethan—”
He cupped the back of her skull and tilted her face up. “Which one was it?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed and he watched the delicate movements in fascination. How could he find her every little activity, even the benign ones, erotic?
“I was upset,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Because I thought you might turn me away if you didn’t want me anymore. I was upset because I thought we wouldn’t—that we wouldn’t—”
“I have, in essence, purchased you for three months, Miranda,” he growled as he brought his lips down to the curve of her throat. Her pulse pounded beneath his lips. “I have no intention of turning you away.”
He darted his tongue out to taste her flesh and Miranda’s hands came up to grip his shoulders as she let out a low moan. The sound was infinitely arousing, a noise of pleasure-pain that echoed the frustration he had been feeling since their last parting a week before. Without words, it spoke of Miranda’s desire, her fears, her fantasies.
And it stripped away his intentions to be cool and collected as he took her. Need pounded up behind him like an inferno and he had to have her beneath him. He had to taste her.
He had to do it now.
Eight
Miranda sensed a change in Ethan as his kisses against her throat grew hungrier, wilder. It shocked her that she could be so attuned to him when she hardly knew him at all. It seemed wrong to feel any kind of emotional connection to him while understanding nothing about his family or his past or his dreams. The rational part of her told her to pull away, but her body wouldn’t allow for that. Instead, she leaned into the curve of his body, arching toward his seeking lips.
“God, you are drugging,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to her. “So sweet.”
His dark gaze came up and snagged hers. There was so much sinful promise in that one look that her knees began to tremble and she felt the telltale wetness of desire begin to overflow from her shaking body. All that with a look. What power this man wielded over her in such a short time.
“I wonder, Miranda,” he said as he backed her toward the settee in the middle of the room. “Do you taste as sweet everywhere?”
“What?” she breathed, hardly able to think, let alone speak when he was tugging at her buttons, pulling her dress away, her undergarments. Leaving her utterly naked.
Her cloudy mind tried to process what he had asked and suddenly it became clear. He wanted to lick her, to taste her just as she’d seen him do dozens of times to other women. An intimate kiss.
He lowered her to the settee, laying her head back against one of the pillows as he dragged her backside to the edge of the couch. He palmed her thighs with his hot hands and they fell apart like she had been born to offer herself to him.
Just as he had the first time they were together, Ethan looked at her for a long moment. She realized how much he liked witnessing her arousal, and how much power he took in seeing how wild he could make her.
“A taste, Miranda,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees on the floor between her legs. “It will be so good for you, I swear it.”
Miranda could hardly manage to give a jerky nod. He had no idea how many times she’d fantasized about this very experience. About watching his dark head dip down between her pale thighs, about feeling his mouth latch on to her pussy.
But he didn’t simply press his mouth to her. He leaned in closer and blew a hot gust of breath over her ultrasensitive outer lips. Her body clenched, gripping at emptiness as her already slick folds grew wetter in readiness for the pleasure about to come.
He slid his hands higher until his thumbs brushed her folds. Miranda shuddered and couldn’t hold back a moan. She had been waiting for him to touch her ever since the last time they made love. It had haunted her thoughts for days. And now that the moment was here, just the slightest touch made her aching body quiver on the edge of a powerful release.
He stroked her lightly and then peeled her open, exposing her wet slit and the aching nub of her clit. Ethan let out a low curse, so quiet she couldn’t make out exactly what he’d said. Then his rough tongue stroked over her opening in one long, languid lick.
Hips arching helplessly at the focused, spiraling sensation, Miranda cried out.
The touch lived up to all her fantasies and more. It was heavenly. So focused. So hot. It was like Ethan had found every part of her body that could experience pleasure and united their attention to one place with his tongue.
The rough texture stroked over her clit, making it swell and tingle with each stroke. She couldn’t help lifting to meet each caress, nor could she silence her wanton moans of encouragement. Pleasure spiraled throughout her body, her nerves tingled and her muscles contracted out of control. She could feel release coming, building like a wall before her. And it was going to be intense, it was going to be powerful. She reached for it, longing for the explosion of sensation.
The pleasure crystallized in an instant, overpowering her as her cries turned to screams and her hips rocked helplessly as her body shook out of control. Ethan continued to torment her with his mouth, tasting, licking, sucking until she was weak from release and could hardly move to meet his strokes any longer.
He pulled away, a wicked smile tilting his lips as he stared at her flushed face.
“I could watch you come all day,” he said. “In fact, perhaps I shall do just that.”
Miranda’s eyes widened as he pushed to his feet and shed his clothing with practiced efficiency. When he peeled his trousers away from his cock and it sprung free, she sat up.
As much as she had been fascinated by watching Ethan pleasure his lovers with his skilled mouth, she had wondered what it would be like to do the same to him. Now his erection was right before her, offered up.
She reached for him before he could cover her body, taking him in hand just as she had the first time they were together. He sucked in a breath at the touch and braced his legs apart like he was trying to keep from pitching over.
“Ethan, I want to,” she hesitated, uncertain as to how to explain what she wanted to do. “I want to do to you what you just did to me.”
His eyes widened and he stared at her like she’d just offered to tup the entire serving staff.
“And what would you know about that?” he asked, watching her swirl her thumb around the mushroom head of his cock. He stifled a groan at the touch.
She swallowed. The last thing she wanted to do was admit her predilection for spying on his sexual exploits all these years. “I-I saw it in one of the pictures on your wall.”
That explanation seemed to appease him. “Very well. No teeth, please.”
She nodded, but she was no longer looking at his face. Instead, she stared at his erection. He was hot and hard in her hand. His member curled up toward his contoured stomach, a proud declaration of his virile power.
Miranda inched forward, closer and closer, and finally, gently, she stroked her cheek against him.
Ethan bit back a moan as he stared down at her in surprise. Her mouth he had been expecting, perhaps a daring touch of her tongue, but not the caress of her cheek. No woman had ever done that before. The brush of her skin against his cock was so…so tender. Sensual, but still personal. And it made him come to attention even more.
Miranda looked up at him and met his gaze briefly. Her blue eyes were bright with wanting and tinged with a bit of inexperienced worry. But there was also determination and hot desire.
Miranda turned her attention back to the work at hand. Darting her tongue out, she stroked it experimentally across the swollen head of his erection. Ethan jerked at the heat of her mouth, the intense pleasure the fleeting touch caused. But it was nothing compared to the explosion of sensation that ricocheted through his body when she wrapped her lips around him and slowly eased him into the hot cavern of her mouth.
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