by Mia Gabriel
As town houses went, it was much like Savage himself: tall, elegant, and aristocratic. It was also outwardly a little forbidding, like Savage was at this moment. How was it that I could physically so completely belong to him, as we’d been in the stable, and yet because I’d impulsively asked about his family he’d once again retreated into this icy, noble-bred gentleman?
It made no sense to me. He wanted me to trust him, yet he seemed incapable of trusting me. If I was going to spend this week with him as my master, I was determined to thaw that chill. He had not released my hand after helping me from the carriage, and I took advantage of that now, daring to curl my fingers into his.
Lightly I rubbed my thumb against his palm, mimicking how I’d licked and nipped at the same place earlier. I regretted that our gloves would mute the sensation, but in an odd way the soft leather seemed to enhance it, skin against skin. In public, on the pavement before his house with his servants all around us, that was all even I could risk, but I hoped he’d understand.
He did.
He glanced down at our joined hands, and his mouth curled in the merest hint of a smile.
“It would appear you wish to retreat indoors, Mrs. Hart,” he said. “Is that so?”
“Yes, my lord,” I murmured, looking up at him from beneath the brim of my hat. “If you wish it as well.”
He grunted with amusement and together we climbed the short stone steps and entered the house past the bowing footman and butler. Apparently the servants had been told to expect me, for I was greeted by name, which also made me smile. Savage could be a most thoughtful man.
As he handed his hat and gloves to the footman I gazed around me, looking for more clues to Savage’s tastes and interests. The front hall of the house was every bit as grand as the façade, two stories high with a floor patterned in a checkerboard of black and white marble, a sweeping staircase of white marble, and a life-size dark bronze statue of Mars on the newel. Portraits of Savage’s ancestors hung in heavy gold frames in a somber parade along the walls and up the stairs. The only bright spot of color came from a large vase of bright yellow flowers in an equally bright Chinese porcelain vase, sitting in the arched alcove of the landing.
“We’ll dine upstairs in the front parlor, Mrs. Hart,” Savage said, playing the agreeable host. I liked how he used my formal name before others and only called me Eve, the diminutive he’d coined, when we were alone. It made it more private, more illicit. “No doubt you’ll wish to change from your riding clothes first. I’ll show you to your room myself.”
He placed his hand on the back of my waist and guided me up the curving staircase.
I hadn’t brought any other clothes with me, but I knew better than to mention it. No doubt he already had a special dress waiting for me, something like the Innocent’s costume I’d worn at Wrenton, and I wondered how revealing it would be. The one thing I’d taken care to bring with me was the long, costly strand of pearls he’d given me, worn for safekeeping beneath my habit. No matter what he expected me to wear (or not wear), the pearls, as always, would be appropriate.
I’d removed my gloves now, too, and I trailed my fingers along the polished mahogany banister as we climbed the stairs. Then I stopped and stared, leaning a fraction over the banister.
I’d been too preoccupied with Savage himself until this moment to realize one of the most startling aspects of Savage’s town house. While it appeared to have been modernized with the glass globes of gas fixtures, the hall was instead lit by candles in the wall sconces and in the chandelier that was now eye level with us on the stairs. At least two dozen little flames danced and bobbed on the wax tapers in the chandelier, their light sparkling through the crystal drops. I leaned forward over the rail, fascinated by the sight.
“I’ve told you before I don’t like modern lighting,” he explained, following my gaze. “My father had installed gaslight, but I refused to use it. There is electricity below stairs, of course. I won’t make the servants follow my ways, particularly in the kitchen, but upstairs it’s how I prefer it. Nothing flatters beauty like candlelight, or destroys it like a greenish gas jet or electrical bulb.”
I nodded, remembering how he’d insisted that his rooms at Wrenton be lit only by candles, too. He had had candles placed all around his bedroom, and we’d cast all kinds of wanton, shameless shadows against the walls until, one by one, they’d guttered out and we’d finally fallen asleep, exhausted. He was right: while not as efficient, candlelight was far warmer and more seductive than any modern lamps, and I realized that I now associated it entirely with him.
He must have guessed my thoughts, too, from the suggestive smile playing over his lips. His hand circled around my waist and he held me tight so I was pressed tightly against his chest and his lips were beside my ear. Together we were leaning over the banister, the black-and-white marble floor far below.
“You like candlelight, too, don’t you, Eve?” he whispered, his words warm against the side of my throat. “You’re remembering what we did together by its glow, aren’t you? How the flames of those candles around my bed were nothing compared to the fire I found in your sweet quim, a fire that only my cock could quell?”
“Yes, Master,” I breathed, remembering exactly as he’d wanted me to. “Oh, yes.”
His grip around my waist tightened, holding me fast as he leaned me a little farther over the banister. The black-and-white floor below combined with the bright flames was a dizzying sight—or perhaps it was simply his nearness that was making it all spin before me. I closed my eyes, focusing on him.
“If you obey me tonight, Eve,” he continued, “then I will make certain you’ll have even more to remember. Much more. Would you like that?”
“Y-y-yes,” I stammered. “Yes, Master, I would.”
“Then come with me now,” he said, shifting away from the banister and from me. I straightened, intending to follow him, but my head was still spinning, and instead I swayed back towards the long staircase of marble steps. Terrified of falling, I gasped and flailed my arms, searching for the banister to support myself.
At once he caught me, drawing me back from the edge of the steps and the banister.
“There now, Eve, you’re safe; you’re safe,” he said, his voice soothing as he folded his arms around me. “I’d never let any harm come to you.”
I felt foolish now, certain I’d overreacted. Yet I made no effort to move away from him, resting my face against his chest.
“I’m fine,” I lied, still shaking. “Truly. It has been a long day, and I—I suppose I am a bit weary, and felt dizzy, and—”
“You needn’t explain,” he said, carefully leading me up the last few steps to the landing. “Not to me. I’m sure you’ll feel much better once you’ve dined and changed from your corset into something less confining.”
I blushed at the mention of my corset. It made no sense, I know, to blush over him mentioning my unmentionables after all the other intimacies we’d shared, especially when he was likely right.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and he placed his fingers gently over my lips to silence me.
“We’ll speak no more of it,” he said firmly. “Here is a room where you may undress, and rest, if you wish.”
“Where are your rooms?” I asked. That was much more important to me. If I’d wanted my own company, I would have remained at the Savoy.
“Across the hall,” he said. “Would you like me to send for one of the maids to—”
“I’ll manage for myself,” I said quickly. I could undress easily enough; it was dressing once again that was more of a challenge, but I would worry about that later. “Truly. I’m quite well now.”
I eased myself away from him to prove it, though I rested my hand along the back of a nearby armchair just to be sure. This was clearly a bedroom for a special guest, with exquisite white furnishings trimmed with gold. A plush Aubusson carpet covered the floor, and the curtains at the window and on the bed were a deep-blue velvet, edged with more gold braid.
But there was no doubt that the room was meant for me. A short, filmy shift of white silk, much like the one I’d worn as an Innocent at Wrenton, had been laid across the bed, waiting. Beside it was a simple long robe of red silk satin, which I guessed was also intended for me.
“A glass of wine, then, to restore yourself.” He went striding across the room to the sideboard, filled a glass halfway from the decanter, and brought it back to me. I was touched by the genuine concern in his eyes, his brows drawn together with uncharacteristic worry. “Drink it, and no excuses.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said, dutifully drinking what he’d offered me and setting the glass down on a nearby table. I felt the wine’s effects almost instantly, warming and relaxing me from within, and I smiled at him. “You see I’m quite myself again.”
He wasn’t convinced. “You’re pale.”
“I’m supposed to be.” I pulled the pins from my hat, lifted it from my head, and tossed it onto the chair. “I’m a lady.”
He didn’t answer at first, and when he did speak he surprised me.
“You’re a lady who has become important to me,” he said gruffly. “I told you that before. I do not wish any harm to come to you.”
I realized how difficult it must have been for him to say that. It was just as difficult for me to answer.
“I feel the same regard for you,” I said softly.
“‘Regard,’” he repeated, and smiled wryly—from amusement, chagrin, or because he’d expected another, more passionate word from me?
I blushed and looked down, confused. I was still new at these games that were so familiar to him, and there were times I said or did the wrong thing. “I’m sorry if I—”
“No, no, I’m the one who must apologize, Evelyn,” he said. “What happened to you just now is entirely my fault, and regrettable. I understand that now. I expected too much of you this afternoon.”
“But you didn’t,” I said swiftly, wondering how he’d misunderstood so completely. And he’d used my full name, which was not a good sign. “Not at all.”
I came to stand close before him, jerking the pins from my hair and scattering them on the floor where they fell. When all the pins were gone, I raked my fingers through my hair so that it fell over my shoulders and down my back in a dark, glossy tangle. He’d always said he preferred it that way, that it reminded him of a wild wood nymph. I shook my hair again, my gaze locked with his.
I had his attention now, and I was quite sure there’d be no further apologies.
“Go on, Eve,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Continue. Do not stop.”
Without looking away I began to unfasten the long row of tiny covered buttons that closed my bodice. There was a rhythm to it, my fingers slipping each rounded ball of a button through the silk loop that held it captive. One by one by one, and not once did Savage’s pale eyes blink or look away.
I reached the last button and shrugged my arms free of the bodice, letting it drop to the floor as I had with the hairpins. My corset cover was black silk and lace to match my drawers, with thin red silk ribbons threaded through the lace straps over my shoulders. There was another row of buttons to be undone here, too, an undergarment to slip free and fall.
My corset not only narrowed my waist, but it also plumped my breasts high. Beneath it, my thin linen chemise, edged with lace, did little more than frame my breasts and the shadowy cleft between them.
I’d tucked the pearl necklace that Savage had given me into the front of my corset and between my breasts, to keep it secure while riding. Now I drew the long strand free, the pearls slipping free one by one just as the buttons had earlier. The pearls were warm with the heat of my body, as if they were living things themselves.
“You wore the pearls,” he said, clearly pleased. “I didn’t realize it.”
“Of course I wore them, Master.” I let the strand drop, where it swung gently nearly to my waist. “They were a gift from you.”
“Because you’re mine,” he said, explaining the obvious.
He caught the necklace in one hand and slowly began to wrap it around his fingers. The pearls clicked softly together, and with each loop the strand grew more taut, reeling me in until finally I’d no choice but to take another step closer, leaning into him. He closed the remaining gap and sealed his mouth over mine, kissing me with a hungry fury.
My hands remained at my sides, my fingers fanning out without touching him, and my eyes were closed to concentrate on his kiss. Yet even so I could feel the growing tension of desire in his body from how tightly he was pulling on the necklace and how the pearls were now pressing into the nape of my neck.
He was fucking me with his mouth, possessing me with his tongue, fast and forceful, and I greedily opened my mouth wider to suck him in. The more I wanted, the more he wanted, too.
My whole being was so intent on his mouth and his tongue and the giddy pleasure he was drawing from me that I didn’t hear the interruption behind us. I don’t think I would have stopped kissing him even if I had.
But Savage heard it and abruptly broke away, releasing the necklace to swing heavily against my chest.
“What the devil is it, Barry?” he demanded, wheeling around. “What do you want?”
Mr. Barry was his manservant, and Savage trusted him completely. I’d met Barry briefly at Wrenton, and likely he was the only servant on the staff who would dare interrupt his master like this. Even so, from the fury on Savage’s face I hoped for Barry’s sake that he’d a very good reason for coming into the bedroom at this moment.
“There is news, my lord,” Barry said evenly. “A messenger has just arrived, and—”
“I’ll come,” Savage said curtly. He turned back to me, his mouth taut and his expression stormy. “Eve, dress yourself for dinner as we discussed. I’ll return as soon as I can. Be here for me when I do.”
Before I could answer he’d stormed from the room. Barry nodded to me and silently closed the door.
Slowly I sat on the bed beside the silk shift Savage had chosen for me. I’d wear it, of course, because he wanted me to but also because I’d nothing else to do.
I was left alone with my questions, and they were not good company.
6.
As Savage had asked (or had he ordered?), I shed my heavy riding habit and all the other layers of lace, linen, and silk beneath. I felt instantly lightened and grateful to be free of the confines of my clothing. I’d always enjoyed dressing fashionably and indulging in every new Parisian style, but from Savage I’d learned to appreciate my body as it was, without tight lacing to alter it to Society’s view of beauty.
There was a small but luxurious bathroom connected to the bedroom, and I washed myself before I slipped into the silk shift that had been left for me. The silk slid lightly over my naked body like a whisper, exactly the way my Innocent’s costume had done at Wrenton. I looped the necklace back around my neck, and the pearls settled familiarly across my breasts, brushing across my nipples just enough to make them tingle and stiffen.
I moved quickly, not knowing how long Savage would be away, and I didn’t want him to find me not ready when he returned. I could only guess as to what I needed to be ready for—with Savage I never knew—but ready I would be.
I took one last look at myself in the tall dressing mirror, imagining how he would see me. The shift was short, barely reaching to the middle of my thighs. The silk was so sheer that it was clear I wore nothing beneath it. My nipples were ruddy and pointed through it, and the dark curls low on my belly were a shadowy triangle.
When I’d first worn a similar costume last week (was it really such a short time ago?), I’d been ashamed to be so brazen, and unable to confront my own reflection. Now I boldly tossed my hair back over my shoulders, proud of my body and the pleasure to be discovered in it. Savage had given me that gift as my lover, and I would never be able to thank him enough for it.
I glanced at the clock, wondering yet again when he would return. He’
d been gone forty-five minutes, and the time that had raced as I’d undressed now seemed to drag. Dusk was settling, and when I stepped to the window and pushed back the curtain I could see that the streetlights that ringed St. James’s Square were already lit.
But there was more to see, too. A hackney cab was waiting at the curb before the house. As I watched, a man hurried from the house and climbed into the cab. The driver cracked his whip over the horse’s back, and they quickly sped away. From the angle of the window, I could not see the man’s face, hidden by the brim of his hat, but he had been well dressed, like a gentleman. His haste had given him an air of purpose, as if he was rushing off on a specific errand rather than leaving after a social call.
I frowned, thinking. It was clear that the gentleman must have met with Savage and likely was the “messenger” Barry had mentioned when he’d interrupted us. But what could have been the reason for such a meeting? Savage had left me as quickly as this man had in turn left the house, hinting at some great urgency between them. In fact, Savage had clearly appeared to expect the interruption.
But it made no sense. My father had always maintained that no important business affairs occurred after the noonday meal. The morning was the time for male business, and besides, I had a difficult time imagining Savage, with his loathing for all things modern, being the same slave to the stock markets and bankers as my father and husband had been.
Nor did Savage need to be. He was unquestionably wealthy, with none of the telltale small signs of an aristocrat foundering on the edge of debt. Although he was a peer with a seat in the House of Lords, he had never mentioned an interest in politics or the workings of government.
Yet Savage had no personal reasons that I could guess for his abrupt behavior, either. His parents and his wife were dead, he had no siblings, and his only son was safely away at school.
There was, of course, the animosity he showed towards Lord Blackledge, but I doubted Savage would plot against the baron with another man. At least I hoped he wouldn’t, considering that I’d be the cause of it. But what reasons could Savage have had, then, for this meeting, this urgency?