A pair of shadowed eyes peered at her from beneath a few strands of loose hair as he moved toward her, slowly and with a savage grace that wobbled her knees. She knew the earl was a well-respected member of the Ton—a status that didn’t fit the untamed beauty of the man before her.
Just then she understood what it meant when her sister Eva explained the sensual feelings her husband, His Grace, evoked in her when he held her in his arms. Noelle had felt something for this man while sprawled beneath him on the bed and hadn’t quite understood the feeling. It was a sensual pull toward a faceless stranger.
Sensual pull?
In that moment, a plan took root in her mind. If she could find a way to distract the earl, she could escape. And there was only one way for a woman to distract a man fully and completely. That much she’d gleaned from her time around courtesans. So she waited until he was close enough to reach out and touch.
Noelle settled what she hoped was a seductive smile on her lips, then lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. He twitched beneath her fingers. She had to remind herself to keep breathing as she stared at his mouth.
“I am not a thief, My Lord Seabrook.” Noelle fluttered her lashes and widened her eyes. “You mistake my intentions.”
“Indeed?” He looked down at her clothing and tugged the black fabric at her waist. The effort brought her a half step closer. “You are certainly dressed as such, Milady.”
The dark clothes were difficult to explain. She had to redirect his attention. Quickly.
Slowly, Noelle drew her hand down his chest, and the supple skin trembled beneath her touch. Curiosity and anonymity and fear of hanging led her to boldness. He was magnificent. She wondered if his skin tasted as exotic as it smelled. Scandalized by her thoughts, a virginal flush burned her cheeks and drifted all the way down to her toes.
“I’ve heard you are casting about for a new courtesan, and I’ve taken these desperate measures to be the first to offer my services.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip. “I find you very, very desirable.”
The last was not a lie and slid easily off her tongue.
A slow grin passed over his face, yet he didn’t speak. Instead, he turned his attention to the golden strands that had escaped her braid during her climb. He examined his find with a grin.
“I shall enjoy seeing it unbound.”
The cool air of the room tingled across her skin. Noelle looked down to see he’d loosened her shirt. Her lacy chemise kept her covered and prevented his perusal of her breasts. Barely.
Noelle forced herself to remain calm as he shoved the shirt farther up to cup her full and thinly veiled breasts. Her nipples budded beneath his palms. A wicked smile tugged his lips, and she ached to kiss him again.
In this moment, with this man, she wasn’t the proper and soon-to-be spinster Lady Seymour, but a reckless adventuress who climbed a trellis and entered a window in the middle of the night to return a necklace and kiss a handsome stranger with abandon.
“How desirable do you find me?” he asked softly, his fingertips tugging at a nipple through the thin cloth. She suppressed a moan. Her legs threatened to collapse as a warning bell sounded in her head.
There was something strange about this man that had nothing to do with his scandalous behavior. Yet, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what roused her suspicions, no matter how hard she tried to focus.
She leaned against him to stop the fondling and peered into his red-rimmed blue eyes. It was then she realized he’d had more than a few drinks this evening; enough to explain why he sounded and appeared slightly off-kilter to her. Not drunk enough to wobble or topple over, but enough for her to use to her advantage and extricate herself from the situation.
Noelle grinned. She’d found her opening. “The first time I saw your face in Hyde Park, I knew I had to have you, My Lord.” She pressed lightly on his chest with both hands, and he shuffled slowly backward toward the bed. He cupped her hips and they walked in a bumbling synchronization, locked together.
“When I discovered through gossip that your courtesan had flown your nest, I knew I had to get to you before the other women discovered her flight.” Noelle spoke in a hopeful, breathless tone. He stared down at her breasts and groaned. “Tonight, I plan to give you a taste of my many talents. Then tomorrow we shall come to an arrangement.”
Her seductive smile drew his eyes. He stared hungrily at her mouth and grinned. “I shall need to see everything.”
“Of course, My Lord,” she purred. This adventuress was relying solely on instinct and snippets of conversations she’d overheard from Bliss and the other courtesans on how to please men. Now was not the time to show her inexperience. Thankfully, the man was not a warty toad.
His knees hit the back of the bed and he stopped. He slid his hands from her hips to cup her buttocks. “Where would you like to start, Milady? We have all night.” He leaned to press his lips against her neck, and whiskers tickled her skin.
Noelle sighed seductively. “Here?” She lowered her hand to cup the large erection beneath his trousers. Her face flamed at her boldness. She suspected he would be considered well endowed and required no padding to make it so.
Her virgin sensibilities were replaced by pure curiosity as she caressed the bulge. What did an erect male member look like up close? Did it hurt the first time a man put it inside a woman? Would she eventually become used to having such a large thing inside her?
The earl’s second groan was deeper than his first. “Thus far, you have moved to the top of my list of potential mistresses.”
The flush on her face was a clear indication of her innocence, but she hoped he was too deep in his cups to notice.
“I have learned my craft well, My Lord.” Her shocking curiosity led her onward. With anonymity a perfect mask to hide behind, Noelle felt positively wicked, truly scandalous.
She would do anything to save herself from Newgate, even fondle the earl if it kept him from summoning the Bow Street Runners. His lids drooped, and for the first time he wavered on his bare feet. He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and it was all she could do not to turn her face to accept his kiss. It was proving hard enough to keep him upright.
Noelle splayed both hands on his chest, pushing gently so he fell limply back on the bed. She’d waste no time waiting for his drunken snores before she made her escape. The necklace was on the dressing table, and the dim light, mixed with his inebriation, would keep him from putting the Lady Seymour and the thief-courtesan together as one person.
“Good night, My Lord,” she said softly with one last look at his handsome face as his lids began to droop over unfocused eyes. She shivered with regret.
And then she was gone.
Chapter Two
Gavin Blackwell woke up the next morning with wool in his mouth and daggers piercing his brain. When he dragged open his eyes, bright rays of sunlight were streaming through the window and over his face, torturing him for his folly. He turned away with a parched groan and swore under his breath.
Tormented by his indulgences, he reached for the glass and its remaining splash of whiskey to wash some of the dreadful dryness off his tongue. Once he was able to speak, he cursed his poor judgment for dipping heavily into last evening’s entertainment, and for not ordering the maids to close the drapes before he left.
The belated celebration of the opening of his shipyard had gone far past a few drinks with his cousin and his companions. He wasn’t clear on much from the previous evening, but he did know one thing. He’d been carried home and up to bed while singing some nonsensical and very slurred Irish ditty. After that, the night was all a blur.
The clock chimed ten, and he pulled the sheet over his head with the intention of collecting a few more hours of sleep. He’d just begun to chase Morpheus back into oblivion when a light hint of lemon and cinnamon drifted up his nose to tease his battered senses.
He jerked upright on the bed. Pain shot through his head, and h
e cursed again.
A woman. He darted a glance around for signs of her but found nothing. Still, he wasn’t completely deterred. A beautiful woman had been in his bed sometime during the night. He was sure of it. Well, mostly sure. He’d kissed her and tasted her lemon-scented skin and lush lips.
Hadn’t he? Then where was she? Unless she’d climbed into the wardrobe or shimmied under the bed, she wasn’t there.
He pressed both palms against his forehead and picked diligently through his muddled brain for a clear thought. The attempt proved futile. It might take a week to recover fully from his drunken stupor. Time he didn’t have.
No, he assured himself, she hadn’t been a dream. Her lingering scent on his pillow proved she was real, and not some delightful fantasy he’d conjured up for his amusement.
Gavin lifted the sheet and looked beneath. He was still wearing his trousers. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased he hadn’t bedded the mysterious wench or bereft she’d escaped, unscathed, from his fumbling attempts to seduce her. With a face like hers, from what he could remember through the haze, it would be shameful not to recall every moment of their coupling.
What he did recall was the softness of her mouth and the scent of lemon and spice in her blonde—or was it brown—hair? He also seemed to recollect some sort of offer to become his mistress. But had the woman actually made such a bold offer, or was it a seductive dream?
Bloody hell! His head was ready to explode, and frustration weaved through the pain. If she’d been a whore given to him as a gift by Charles, she shouldn’t be too difficult to hunt down.
He grinned. Next time he had her in his bed, he’d be fully sober and ready to enjoy the favors she’d offered. After all, it was high time to take a mistress. Brief couplings at brothels, with women of questionable cleanliness, had never appealed to him. He wanted a beauty to share the pleasurable intimacies of his bed. He wanted this mysterious beauty.
Knuckles rapped on the door and the panel swung open. Charles, Earl of Seabrook, strode into the room without invitation, dressed in lordly attire and ready to face the day. A wide grin split his handsome face. Clearly, one of them wasn’t suffering the effects of too many drinks.
“I came to check your breathing, cousin, before I venture off to Bath.” He grinned stupidly and claimed a chair by the window. Charles rarely slept past noon and was already impeccably dressed for his trip. A late night out hadn’t changed his habits. “I wasn’t sure a man could survive such high amounts of whiskey and live to see morning. I expected to find you cold and dead.”
Gavin shot him a watery glare and slumped back on the pillows. “I seem to recall you kept my glass filled. Your tab at White’s must be a level fortune.”
Charles chuckled. “I can cover it. My father left me a bloody king’s ransom.” He stretched out his long, thin legs. Charles and Gavin revealed a hint of their shared paternal bloodline in their features and dark hair, but his English cousin was British-pale. By contrast, Gavin had spent most of his life in America, working on the docks and learning all there was to know about shipbuilding. His sturdier build and darker skin were the results.
“My father left me a worthless shipyard. I had to build my own fortune,” Gavin grumbled. Though their fathers were brothers, Gavin’s father had been one of the younger sons and reckless in every regard. He suspected the only reason his father hadn’t gambled away the shipyard was that he’d won it in a card game, then promptly forgotten he owned the property. “Perhaps I should push you under a coach and claim your inheritance. Then I could spend my life indulging my pleasures rather than working my hands to callused imperfection.”
It was only recently that Gavin had returned to this land of his birth, after the death of his Boston-bred mother. When his estranged father had died some years ago and left him the shipyard, he’d balked at returning to London. He had a life in Boston. But without his mother, there was little to keep him in America. Loneliness and curiosity drew him back to his birthplace, and here he would stay, for now, if this new shipping venture proved as successful as he planned.
“Don’t forget Thomas and Cecil,” Charles said, and swung out an arm. “They have claim over all this before you. Surely you wouldn’t push them beneath the coach as well?”
Gavin shook his head. His two young cousins, Charles’s sons, were being groomed by their mother to inherit once Charles finally dropped dead.
And, truthfully, Gavin was quite satisfied with his lot.
Charles chuckled. “I know you, Cousin. You’d hate the responsibility that comes with my title. I am wed until my death to a woman who despises me. I carry the weight of the financial burdens of keeping my coffers full, so that I may leave my children more than the lint in my pockets.” He sighed. “You have the freedom I lack. Thus, I have to indulge in my pleasures when I can, to keep myself sane.”
Gavin lifted the glass. “Then here’s to your continued good health, Cousin, and to that of your sons.” He swallowed the last few drops of liquid. “May you all live very, very long lives.”
Charles chuckled. “If only your father had been born first. . . .” He let his wistful voice trail off.
Though his cousin complained about his responsibilities, Gavin knew Charles enjoyed all the privileges his title offered, Lady Hortense aside. From the stories Charles told, the woman was a veritable shrew, and Gavin had thus far taken pains to avoid meeting her. It was impossible for him to understand how Charles managed to get four children by her without snapping her scrawny neck.
Perhaps it was remembering the immense dowry old Lord Pottsworth had offered Charles to wed and bed his oldest daughter that allowed his cousin to perform his husbandly duties. The dowry rivaled the value of the crown jewels. Still, no fortune would have convinced Gavin to take Hortense, in spite of her rumored lovely face. Charles claimed her harsh voice was enough to freeze a man’s bollocks blue.
Gavin shuddered and quickly changed the topic. “I would like to thank you for the woman you sent me, though I fear I did not get to indulge myself, thanks to you and your whiskey. I would, however, like to ask where you found her, so I can discover her whereabouts. I’d appreciate a second chance to taste her favors.”
Charles frowned. “Woman? What woman?”
“The woman you sent to my room.” Gavin watched Charles’s confusion, and his stomach tightened. His cousin looked positively befuddled. “Didn’t you send me a doxie last night?”
Charles shook his head and looked around the room. “A woman was here in this house?” he said, surprised. Then his surprise turned quickly to excitement. “Was it Bliss?” He gave Gavin a brief description of his vanished courtesan. His desire for the girl was clear on his face.
“It wasn’t her,” Gavin said. “The eyes and hair were not the same.” His sneak thief–courtesan’s eyes were a soft amber brown with flecks of what he thought might be green around the pupils, and her hair was lighter. That much he could remember from that moment they’d been nose to nose.
Concern drew him out of bed. Gavin stumbled to his coat and found his coin purse undisturbed. “Then who was she?”
Charles stood and walked around the room. “I haven’t any idea. This is as much a mystery to me.” Peering into every nook and corner and behind the drapes, he eventually stopped at the dressing table and lifted something off the surface.
“Hortense’s necklace. I had the spider clasp repaired.” Charles turned and dangled a very expensive piece from his fingertip. Sapphires and diamonds glistened in the sunlight. “Odd. I thought I’d lost it. Hell, I thought Bliss had stolen it a couple of days ago, during my last visit to her town house. That was right before she vanished without word. Are you certain it wasn’t her?”
“Very certain. This woman did not have blue eyes.”
The two men fell silent. Gavin was puzzled. Was the mysterious woman a thief? Or had she found and returned the necklace? The idea was absurd. How could she know the rightful owner unless she’d had a part in the thef
t? And if she was a real thief, why return it at all?
Perhaps Charles had accidentally dropped it and one of the maids found it and left it on the table. An improbable solution he quickly dismissed. A necklace such as this would be returned to the earl immediately, not left lying around for anyone to lift.
There were too many puzzling pieces of this story. Suspicion welled. What had she been doing in his room? Suddenly, Gavin wanted to find the mysterious woman and shake the truth from her.
“I did suspect Bliss had taken it. I’m pleased to see I was mistaken. Perhaps I should call the Runners to make an investigation,” Charles said tightly, and closed his hand around the necklace. “If my dear wife had discovered I’d lost the piece, she’d have had me castrated. It is her favorite.”
“I think you should wait,” Gavin countered. He couldn’t imagine his lovely little thief in shackles. He had other plans for her. “There was something about this woman that led me to believe she was not a common criminal. There’s no proof she had anything to do with the necklace.” More memories surfaced, and he grinned. “I do recall that she thought I was you and offered her services as Bliss’s replacement. Perhaps it was as simple as a desperate woman looking to secure a wealthy patron.”
Slowly, Charles relaxed. “Then I shall defer to your suggestion. No harm is done. Perhaps if you find the chit, you should send her to me.” He walked to the door. “Clearly, the girl finds me worth risking her neck for. And, as you know, I am in need of a new courtesan. Bliss has been missing for two days. I fear she is not coming back. Pity.”
With a wink, Charles left him. Gavin settled back and stared at the ceiling as his conversation with the selfproclaimed courtesan began to come back to him. Tension returned as he recalled her words. She mentioned spotting him in Hyde Park and hatching a plan of seduction. If that was true, then why didn’t she immediately recognize he was the wrong man?
The Accidental Courtesan Page 2