Scandal of the Season

by Christie Kelley

  He brought his lips to her cheeks and trailed a path to her ear. “Would you like to find out?”

  “Oh, God, yes.”

  Bending down, he wrapped his arm around the back of her legs and picked her up. As he walked her to the bed, he stared at her, waiting for any sign of second thoughts. But her blue eyes sparkled with desire.

  He placed her beside the bed and kissed her softly until she moaned. Breaking away from her tempting lips, he turned her around.

  “The past few days of having to act as your lady’s maid has been torture,” he admitted as he worked at the buttons on her dress.

  “Good. I didn’t want to be the only one in the agony of unrequited desire.”

  As her dress slid down her body, he kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered as he moved his lips down her shoulders to her shift. He quickly unlaced her stays and removed the garment. Eliminating her shift and petticoats, left her standing in front of him with just her stockings on.

  “Take your hair down for me,” he whispered. “I want to see all your glorious hair.”

  “Now?” she squeaked.

  “Yes.” He stared down at her small rounded breasts, itching to cup them in his hands.

  He watched as her breasts moved when her hands went to the pins in her hair. As each pin dropped to the floor, his desire increased. He wanted to lay her down and sink himself into her warm depths. But this time was for her. He’d botched the first time so badly that he would do everything in his power to make this the best she had ever had.

  Once all the pins were gone, her blond hair flowed down her back. Anthony spread his hands through her silky tresses. The sight of her with her hair down, standing in just her stockings almost did him in.

  “Can I undress you?” she asked.

  He smiled at the timid tone of her voice. Was it an act she played to convince him that she was still an innocent young girl? He honestly didn’t care how many men she’d been with. He could not judge her.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  Even though he knew it was going to kill him to have her hands all over him, he let her have her way. She removed his jacket and waistcoat, throwing them over to the chair in the corner, then set to work on his cravat. Once that binding was gone from his neck, she unbuttoned the small buttons on his linen shirt. His pulse thrummed in his veins when she reached to pull the shirt out of his trousers.

  She had him down to just his trousers and boots. Her fingers glided down his chest, making him tighten his muscles against the desire scorching him.

  “Let me take my boots off first,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Very well, but I do get to remove your trousers.”

  He smirked at her. “Oh?”

  “I would very much like to see exactly what was inside me ten years ago.”

  He gripped the bedpost for support. It was as if she knew exactly what to say to make him lose control. He yanked off his boots faster than he ever had and stood before her.

  “I’m all yours,” he said.

  She swallowed and stared at his chest. Once more, her fingers reached out tentatively, this time sliding over his nipples. He moaned and grabbed her hands.

  “Sweetheart, you need to stop.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied with a frown.

  “Take off my trousers because if I don’t get my hands on you soon, I will embarrass myself.”

  He wondered at the confusion on her face but closed his eyes as she unbuttoned his trousers. If he opened his eyes, he would be done for, so instead, he pictured her in his mind. Her soft hands brought his trousers down to his knees.

  Hearing her soft intake of breath, he forced his eyes open. She was staring at his erection with a stunned look on her face. He almost laughed.

  “Am I that much bigger than most other men?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. Slowly, she reached a hand out to touch him.

  As she did, he tilted his head back and enjoyed the sensation of her soft hand on him. He clasped his hand over hers to stop.

  “I am too far gone for that tonight, sweetheart.”

  Victoria wished she had a little more experience with men and understood what he was talking about. She had heard the women in the brothel talking, but her first time had been so quick that none of it made any sense. As she stroked his long cock, she shivered at the idea of it being inside her.

  “Let me make love to you tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to hear you moan my name as you reach your climax.”

  He kissed her neck and then her mouth. The feel of his tongue on hers caused wetness to form between her legs. She moved her hips against his, savoring the hard length between them.

  He picked her up and placed her gently on the bed. Smiling down at her naked body, he undid the garters holding up her stockings. He slowly slid her silk stockings down her legs then slipped his tongue across the arch of her foot.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  He smiled against her foot. Kissing his way back up her body, he stopped only once to stare at her breasts. With him on top of her, she felt petite and for once in her life, safe. When she moved her hands to skim through his short hair, he kissed her again.

  Victoria deepened the kiss, demanding as much of him as he demanded of her. He finally broke away only to move his mouth to her erect nipple. She arched against his mouth. Never had she felt a sensation as sinful. Her body ached for more, and suddenly she had it as his hand slid down her belly until he reached the apex of her thighs.

  His fingers split her folds open for him. As he rubbed his thumb against her, her desire climbed higher. He continued to stroke her, all the while his mouth kissing a path downward. When his mouth replaced his fingers, Victoria moaned.

  Passion spiraled upward until she arched her back, closed her eyes and shattered. Slowly, he stopped and she fell back to reality. Opening her eyes, she saw him with a smile on his face, staring intently at her.

  “I want you so badly right now,” he whispered.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “You to tell me you want me.”

  Victoria blinked back the tears that welled in her eyes. She understood his request. After ten years, he still felt remorse over what happened and wanted to make certain she wanted him. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him tenderly.

  “I do want you, Anthony. More now than I did ten years ago.”

  With a groan, he was over her. His erection pressed to her opening. She shifted her hips to allow him better access and felt him slowly slide into her wetness. He eased into her slowly, allowing her body to stretch to his size.

  “Dear God, you are so tight.”

  She watched his hazel eyes, which were more green than any other color, as he filled her.

  “Put your legs around my hips, sweetheart,” he whispered as a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  As she did what he’d told her, Anthony realized something that made him stop. This was not an experienced woman. In fact, he doubted that anyone had made love with her since him. The idea that she hadn’t been with another man sent a strange sensation to his heart.

  He filled her completely and then stretched out over her. Gripping her hands, he brought them over her head and clasped her hands.

  “Liar,” he whispered in her ear before sliding out of her and then back inside of her warmth.

  “What?” she gasped.

  He repeated the movement faster this time, watching her eyes sparkle. He’d never felt anything as exquisite as her body under his. This slip of a woman had a hold over him unlike any other woman. As her eyes shuttered, he knew she was nearing her climax. Thrusting into her again, he felt her tighten around him until he couldn’t help but follow her over the precipice.

  He lowered himself down on her and then rolled them both over. Her head rested on his shoulder as he stared at the ceiling. For ten years, he’d taken his satisfaction from all types of women, and yet, none had left him this fulfilled. A
nd it scared the hell out of him.

  His mother’s words about marrying a reputable woman came back to him. Victoria was anything but reputable. She was a pickpocket, had worked as an orange seller and cleaned rooms in a brothel. She was not the marrying type.

  Victoria was the mistress type.

  Listening to her rhythmic breathing, he knew she had fallen asleep on him. He’d never had a real mistress before, only women here and there. With his job, he hadn’t wanted the complication of a woman who expected him to visit several times a week. But now that he was soon to be finished, he could take Victoria as his mistress.

  He could buy her a house of her own. Set her up with a large allowance for expensive dresses and servants, and anything else her heart desired. She would make the perfect mistress. She was intelligent and a little smart in the mouth, but he liked that about her. He liked the fact that she didn’t agree with everything he said.

  She blinked her blues eyes open as he stared down at her. A shy smile formed on her lips. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her a little closer and kissed her forehead. She pulled back and frowned at him.

  “Why are you frowning at me like that?”

  “I’m just wondering why you called me a liar during the middle of…”

  He smiled as her cheeks grew red with embarrassment. “Of making love?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because I quickly realized that you have not been with many men if any other than me.”

  She pushed herself up to the pillow and put her head on her hand. “I don’t remember telling you that I had been with many men. That was your assumption.”

  He lay back against the bed and stared at the ceiling. “Will you ever be completely honest with me?”

  “Will you with me?” she asked softly.

  “What are you talking about? I have been honest with you.” He turned back on his side to face her again. “I even told you about what happened in France. I’ve never told a soul about that!”

  “You haven’t told me who hurt you so badly that you don’t trust people, especially women.” She reached out and rubbed the back of her hand down his cheek.

  “My job demands that I trust no one.”

  She closed her eyes. “I understand you have things you can’t tell me just as I have things I can’t tell you.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Hardy told me that you and Lady Farleigh were intimate. Is that true?”

  How much of this story could he divulge to her? He doubted Hannah would mind. “It was only a few times. I haven’t been celibate for the past ten years.”

  “Are you trying to get her back into your bed?”

  Anthony laughed. “The only woman I have wanted in my bed for the past week and a half is you. I actually introduced Hannah to Farleigh.”

  “Then why would Hardy say such a thing?”

  “He must know some of the truth,” Anthony said. “Before Hannah became Farleigh’s mistress, she worked in a brothel.”

  She pulled back and stared at him. Her blue eyes questioning him. “A brothel?”

  “Yes. I paid for her services two or three times.” He placed a finger over her mouth. “The last night we were together we ended up talking all night. I convinced her that she could do far better for herself than working as a prostitute.”

  “How is a mistress better than a prostitute?” she exclaimed.

  “You worked in a brothel. Surely, you have an idea of what those women go through every night. They are forced to have sex with whoever picks them. The man might be pleasant or might be abusive. They don’t have a choice. At least as a mistress, they can get to know the man before making the decision to be with him. Then they only have to be with him.”

  Victoria knew he was right. When she worked at Lady Whitely’s she had seen a few women with bruises. She did give Lady Whitely credit, once a man had bruised one of her ladies, the man was denied entrance into her home. Unless the lady didn’t mind the rougher sex.

  “I suppose you are right,” she finally said. “I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

  He turned toward her with a little smile. “I’m not. If you have a question about me, ask it. I will do my best to answer your question truthfully. But you have to understand that because of the work I do there will be some questions I cannot answer.”

  “I do understand that.” Still, she wondered how many secrets he kept inside. And would he ever tell her about who had hurt him so badly?

  For a long moment, he just stared at her. “What are you thinking about?”

  Not wanting to bring up the topic of his past, she said, “How wonderful the Christmas season is.”

  Anthony looked away and muttered, “I hate this time of year.”

  Sitting up, she looked down at him as she held the coverlet over her breasts. “How could you hate this season? It’s always been my favorite time of year.”

  “Nothing good ever happens in December.”

  “You were born in December.”

  “My mother left us in December. I found out she was still alive in December. And until tonight, I’d thought I raped a woman in December.” He looked up at her and scowled. “What is so good about this damned time of year?”

  A slow smile lit her face. “People are more generous and they carry more money with them. They are willing to buy more oranges and don’t mind so much if a pickpocket takes a little for some coal. I have always loved Christmas. There is just something magical about it.”

  “Perhaps you can change my mind,” he whispered and then kissed her softly as if making certain she wouldn’t reject him. Not that she could. His lips and tongue triggered a warm liquid throughout her body that always made her knees weak. Slowly, he pulled away and stared at her blue eyes dark with passion.

  “Perhaps we should continue our conversation later.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Victoria slowly opened her eyes and adjusted to the dim light coming in from the windows. A strong arm held her tight against an equally strong chest. She closed her eyes again and relished the sensation of safety and comfort. How could she feel so comfortable with him?

  She had only known him for just over a week. Yet, here she lay, naked in bed with him. She wondered what would have happened if he’d found her ten years ago after that night. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he would have bent down on one knee and professed his undying love to her. Most likely, he would have apologized, given her some money and sent her on her way.

  Just as he would in four more days.

  She sighed. The only difference now was he associated with her group of friends. She would see him every few months at occasions. As a viscount and future earl, he would have to marry before long. Then she would see him doting on his wife and possibly even his children.

  Her heart suddenly ached.

  She might have to give up her friends to save her heart from destruction. Turning slowly in his arms, she stared at his face. In sleep, he appeared content, not tense. His strong cheekbones and jaw line was covered in a light beard. She brought her hand to his cheek and gently caressed his face, enjoying the scratchy feeling of his morning growth.

  Hazel eyes stared down at her and a smile formed on his perfect lips. “Good morning,” he said with a hoarse voice.

  “Good morning,” she whispered in return. She would miss waking up in his arms.

  “We could have our breakfast up here.” He kissed her softly. “Have breakfast in bed and maybe then a long hot bath…together.”

  “That sounds heavenly.”

  “I hear an objection in there,” he commented and then kissed her again.

  His suggestive kiss had sent a tingle down her back. “I have given Hardy the impression that you and I are not on the best of terms.”

  “So I noticed. Now why would you do that?” He nipped her shoulder with his teeth.

  “Should you decide you need my help, this would let me get close to Hardy.”

  He lay back against his pillows and stared at the
ceiling. “Victoria, I cannot risk it. Hardy might be extremely dangerous.”

  She turned on her side to look at him. “But it doesn’t hurt to keep the farce going. You might not need my help. But you might. If you do, then I can step in and pinch the note from him.”

  “You know I won’t let you get involved.”

  “Why?”

  “What I do is dangerous work. I cannot put your life in jeopardy.” He turned back toward her and stared into her soul.

  Growing up on the streets of London, Victoria had had her share of risk. His gallant thought of her safety made her heart melt. She didn’t want to be in harms way, but she did want to help him.

  “Just think about it, Anthony.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  “So, do we continue what I started with Hardy?” she asked quietly.

  He breathed out a long sigh. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, if Hardy discovers we both had breakfast in our room, he might become even more suspicious than he already is. I think we had best have breakfast downstairs and appear annoyed with each other.”

  He kissed her jaw and moved up to her ear. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  “Perhaps we could sneak away after luncheon.” She felt him smile against her cheek.

  “That sounds slightly wicked, sweetheart.”

  “True. I am certain you must have never done anything wicked before.”

  He laughed. “Never. And the idea of suggesting we have sexual congress in the middle of the afternoon is horrifying. That should only be done after dark with all the candles snuffed and our nightclothes on.”

  Victoria giggled softly. “And definitely no more than once a month.”

  “Now you are jesting,” he said as he pulled her closer so she could feel his erection jutting between them.

  “Somerton,” she said in a serious tone. “What makes you certain that there is a missive?”

  He lay back against the bed and sighed. “I’m not. But until I know for certain, I must assume my information is correct.”

  “Who do you think the message is for?”

  “I would rather not say just yet.” He threw off the covers and picked up his trousers. “I shall ring for a bath.”