The Scoundrel's Lover (The Notorious Flynns Book 2)

by Jess Michaels

  Marcus stared at Annabelle and didn’t look away as he said, “No.”

  The door shut and he drank the look of her in. Her green and yellow striped day dress only accentuated the slender lines of her body. It was expensive—but of course it would be—and fitted to perfection. It fastened in the front. How long would it take to remove it?

  “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice rough.

  She had been watching him intently, but his question seemed to break the spell between them because she finally blinked. “I-I—” she stammered.

  With a curse beneath her breath that he was surprised a lady knew, she hurried past him and stood at his window where he had brooded not a few moments ago. Her back was to him, but he saw her taking a few long breaths, as if to calm herself. Were her nerves because of whatever she’d come here to say or because of him?

  “It is different here in the day,” she mused, almost as if to herself.

  He held his gaze on her back, stunned that she had just voiced exactly his musings before she stepped into his club for the second time.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice still stiff and formal. “And I must ask again, why are you here?”

  She faced him, and he saw the determination on her face and the light of strength in her eyes. He couldn’t deny how much he admired them both, even before she explained herself.

  “I have been pondering Crispin a great deal,” she began.

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. I believe he may have been here again last night,” she explained.

  Marcus’s eyes widened. “Please do not tell me you snuck into my club again last night.”

  Her brow knitted. “I have never snuck into your club at all, sir!”

  He let out his breath in frustration. “You know what I mean. Did you come here last night, Annabelle?”

  “No! I was at a ball last night. I surmised this was where Crispin might have gone from clues he gave my mother.” She broke her gaze from his at last. “I did consider coming here—”

  “Miss Flynn—”

  “—but I did not do it,” she finished. “I know my sneaking out frightened Rafe, and I would not do that to my mother, at least not without a good deal of planning ahead of time so there would be no chance she might find out. She was in enough of a state as it was, thanks to Crispin. I am the closest thing to a respectable child as she has. I couldn’t create worry over me.”

  She sucked in a breath as she finished that statement. Her face was flush with emotion and her eyes lit up with even more.

  “Will you sit down?” he offered, wanting in some strange way to calm her.

  She seemed to ponder the merits of accepting his offer for a moment as she looked around his austere office. “Your guests, your members, they do not…they do not take their fun here, do they?”

  Marcus lifted his brows. “No. This is my private office. There is no entertaining done here.”

  Of course, through a door just behind her was a bedroom where he could easily change that. But he shoved the thought aside to gather with the other inappropriate things this woman brought out in him.

  She touched one of the wooden chairs across from his desk, gliding her fingers across the surface before she slowly sank into its seat. She sighed as if she had been holding back exhaustion. “You must think me quite hysterical,” she said without looking up at him.

  He came around the desk and perched on the edge in front of her. He looked down at her, watching how the light hit her face. “No,” he said softly. “You are worried about your brother. I admire your loyalty to him. Though I certainly did not expect you to invade my club before opening.”

  She glanced up at him. “I did not invade—” When he met her gaze, she stopped. “Fine, I suppose invasion is not such a bad comparison. I only wished to talk to you in private, before there would be…be distractions.”

  “You mean my patrons,” he said, thinking of what he’d caught her staring at just a few nights before.

  She nodded, a blush darkening her cheeks.

  “You are here now. Talk to me,” he urged softly, even though he knew he should order her to go home and probably tell the Duke of Hartholm what she had been doing on her own.

  But he didn’t.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know you, I realize that. And you owe me nothing, not even the kindness you have shown toward me so far. I realize I sound like a frantic woman, silly to the core, but my brother means the world to me. I don’t know what has driven Crispin to this wild behavior now, but I do know he is swiftly passing to the point of being out of control. And I fear for him, Mr. Rivers.”

  She looked up at him, luminous brown eyes locked on his and creating a lush prison where he feared he could be locked up forever and not complain.

  “Rafe thinks he knows best, and I cannot argue with the logic of his response. However, he is busy with his new role as duke, his marriage and the baby he has on the way so soon. Perhaps if he wasn’t, he might see things differently.”

  “You mean he might pursue your brother as you wish to do,” Marcus said softly.

  She nodded, her face lighting up as if she were happy he understood what she meant on some small level. “Yes. That is it exactly. Rafe might see that we could lose Crispin if we don’t act. And I can’t lose him.”

  Marcus pressed his lips together. This was building to something, that was clear. Annabelle hadn’t just come here to vent her feelings to a highly inappropriate stranger. Her intelligent, bright face told him there was more to her visit.

  “And what do you want to do?” he asked.

  She stood up suddenly and moved forward a fraction. With him seated on the edge of his desk, they were almost the same height, and now her face was too close to his. He could smell her intoxicating scent, heady jasmine that he wanted to get his fill of.

  “I do not think it would be fair to ask you to watch over him,” she said, seemingly oblivious to what her closeness did to him. Though her voice was more breathless when she continued, “But I would like to—to do that. Myself.”

  He leaned away. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I want to come here and watch over my brother,” she repeated. “With your permission, of course.”

  Marcus stood up, and now they were even closer. He was going mad from her scent and could hardly see anything but her. “You cannot mean that.”

  “But I do. I would not be in your way, I assure you. I’ll wear a mask at all times. I could even pay a membership fee if you would like.”

  “Damn it, it isn’t about the money, Annabelle!”

  She blinked at his sudden outburst and stiffened. “What is it?”

  “Your safety, both physical and mental,” he snapped. “You are an innocent—you cannot possibly understand.”

  “I saw things, you know,” she said, that fierce blush returning to her skin. “My brothers had a few books that I found, I read, and they were quite descriptive. If you are talking about the acts I saw here at your club, I’m certain in time the shock would wear off and I would hardly notice them anymore.”

  Marcus shook his head. He had seen her increased breath when she watched the couple grind against each other the first night she came here. He’d seen how focused she was on the intimacies they shared. In some way, she was titillated by the acts, by the voyeurism. And oh, how he liked that idea. On a deep, visceral level, he had loved watching it. He had wanted to awaken those dark and hidden desires even more.

  Which was exactly why he couldn’t allow her tempting offer.

  “I would not ask for you to take responsibility for me,” she insisted.

  “But I would be responsible,” he said. “At any rate, you are now out in Society. How would you ever pull off such a feat?”

  She stared at him a moment, and then she began to laugh. It was a warm sound that seemed to fill the cold room with light and color. It touched his ears and curled through his blood, settling low in his groin.

  “What is so fu
nny, Miss Flynn?”

  “You forget who I grew up with,” she said, her laughter fading to a bright smile. “I will have responsibilities to attend to, yes, but nothing could be simpler than dodging a chaperone, whether it is my mother or my brother. I can tell one that I’m with the other and trust me, my family doesn’t verify these things. I could be spending the night with a friend or sneak out my damned window if it comes to that. Mr. Rivers, you have no idea of the depth of my ability to be a Flynn in every way that works in my advantage.”

  Marcus smothered a smile. It was hard not to be impressed with the woman who stood before him. She was confident and bright, as well as beautiful. But the idea that she would come here, that she would be here with him in his den of inequity…it was as dangerous as it was tempting.

  “Your brothers’ books may not fully prepare you for what you find in these walls,” Marcus said and found himself inching forward until her skirts brushed his thigh. “What you saw the first night you came here is only the beginning.”

  To his shock, Annabelle’s pupils dilated at that statement and her pink tongue shot out to wet her lips. Staring up at him with an expression of both innocence and desire, she was suddenly no longer a temptation he could resist.

  He cupped her chin, tilting her face toward his even more. He waited for her to step back, or to wallop him with a punch he was certain one or both of her brothers had taught her to throw over the years. But she did neither—she just looked up at him, trembling in anticipation.

  Whatever small shred of civility he had left floated away on the harsh exhalation of her breath, and he lowered his mouth and claimed her lips just as he had been dreaming of doing since the first moment he laid eyes on her so many years ago.

  Chapter Seven

  Annabelle had been kissed before, but those caresses paled in comparison to Marcus’s…possession of her. His mouth slanted over hers, demanding entry that she had no choice but to give. His tongue swept past her lips, massaging and tasting, teasing and tempting and without meaning to she moaned deep in her throat.

  That low sound only drove him on. His arms came around her, dragging her against him, and she was helpless to resist the animal desires he stoked in her. She lifted to her tiptoes to get closer to him.

  He tasted so good, like fresh mint with a hint of smoky whisky. She could easily drown in those flavors, lose herself entirely as she let her tongue tangle with his.

  Her response seemed to stoke him further. He let out his own groan, and then his hands slid down her sides. He cupped her backside through her gown and tugged her against him even harder. She felt the rigid length of his erection against her belly.

  Her mind flashed to images of the first night she’d come to Marcus’s club. To the tangled man and woman, how they ground together in a sensual rhythm. How the man had cupped the woman’s bare bottom.

  She wanted to do those things. She wanted to surrender her body to this man and have him teach her about the dark desires that sometimes all but overtook her in her bed and made her fingers work wildly over her sex. She wanted to be his.

  The thoughts made her jolt in shock, and she pressed her hands to his chest and shoved.

  “No,” she said, but the word had no heat behind it.

  Despite that fact, he immediately released her and retook his seat on the edge of his desk. He said nothing as she backed away from him, but watched her with such intensity that she had no choice but to turn away just so that she could remember how to breathe.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rivers. I’m certain you must think very low of me,” she whispered.

  “Why would I think any less of you, Annabelle?” he asked, his voice soft and seductive over her shoulder. She couldn’t help but turn and found his expression utterly unreadable. “I believe it was I who kissed you.”

  She swallowed. That was most definitely true. She might have wanted to kiss him, in that dark place she needed to destroy, but she never would have been so bold as to actually instigate the caress.

  “But I—I responded,” she said, shaking her head as she relived that response in every nerve ending of her shaking body.

  “Yes, you did that. But again, I couldn’t judge you. In fact, I very much enjoyed it.”

  Heat filled her cheeks, and Annabelle fought hard to remember her goals. Her desires. Respectability would not be found with a notorious club owner who awakened the worst longings in her.

  “Still, I can’t,” she whispered. “So I shouldn’t have so eagerly allowed this transgression.”

  “You can’t, Annabelle, or you won’t?”

  Annabelle clenched her hands. His question was at the core of her current situation. Yes, she could give in to what her body seemed to want more and more. She could march over to Marcus’s desk and continue what they’d started.

  But she wouldn’t, because she knew once she surrendered to that part of herself, that very Flynn element that haunted her every thought and action, there would be no going back. And for a woman like herself, there would very likely be ruin and pain.

  “Either can’t or won’t, the result is the same,” she said. “I am not like them. I can’t be. Or won’t be. You can take your pick if it pleases you.”

  He didn’t look pleased as he stared at her, holding her as if he had pinned her to her spot. She had no idea of his thoughts, and she found she wished she did. Rivers was…fascinating.

  He got up and moved around to sit properly at his desk. The barrier between them made it somehow easier to breathe, and she allowed herself to ease back toward him as she awaited his response.

  “Your brother is a regular visitor here on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he said, his tone brusque and professional again. “He comes at other times during the week, but those are the times I can almost guarantee he will be here. He comes around ten most nights.”

  She blinked. “Are you saying you will allow me access to the club to watch over him?”

  He hesitated, and she could see this was truly a struggle for him. Whether it was because he didn’t want to the trouble of her coming here or because he felt she would be in danger or he simply was upset that she had pulled away from his kiss, she didn’t know.

  After a moment, he said, “Yes, you may come on those nights. And I will attempt to inform you of other times Crispin comes to the Masquerade.”

  Her heart leapt and she stepped closer. He watched her as she did so, and her body reacted accordingly. She ignored the tingling response.

  “Tomorrow is Thursday,” she stated.

  He nodded. “Yes. If you come, be sure to bring a mask and put it on before you leave your carriage. Make sure your maid has one as well, if you insist on bringing her as you did today. She will be taken to the servant area.”

  Annabelle worried her lip. “Will Deirdre be safe there?”

  “You think the debauchery here continues below stairs?” Marcus asked, brow arched.

  “It would be foolish to assume it didn’t. I may have no choice but to bring my maid and I would never want to put her in danger.”

  Marcus smiled slightly at that answer. “The servant quarters do sometimes get wild, but those who want to partake in the same kind of fun as their mistresses and masters must go to a different area. It is policed as carefully as upstairs is. No one comes to my club and is forced to do anything they don’t wish to do. So your Deirdre will be very safe, I assure you. Your only worry will be her wagging tongue.”

  Annabelle shook her head. “She would not betray me, I’m certain. But I’ll be sure we both have masks. Are there any other instructions I should know about?”

  “At the door, they will require a name, to check it against our membership roster,” Marcus said.

  Annabelle froze. She hadn’t thought about that fact, but of course it would be true. Part of how Marcus made his money was through the memberships and he couldn’t allow just anyone off the street inside, both for financial and safety concerns.

  “I would obviously prefer not to be
on your books,” she whispered. “Though I could give you the fee if you tell me what it is.”

  “Three hundred pounds per annum for a basic membership,” he said softly. “Five hundred for the inclusion of the use of private rooms. A lifetime membership can be purchased for five thousand pounds.”

  She blinked. “That is more than many people’s income entirely.”

  He smiled, but there was little pleasure to the expression. “People are willing to pay for pleasure and privacy, Annabelle.”

  “I can get you three hundred pounds,” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

  “I wouldn’t ask you for a fee,” he said. “But I do have a request since you are not officially on our books.”

  Annabelle nearly sagged in relief. She had the money, of course, but to remove that much for her pin account would likely raise the eyebrows of the solicitor. He would report the activity to her mother and probably to Rafe.

  And she couldn’t imagine either one would be happy to know what she’d spent her funds on.

  “What is it, Marcus—” She broke off abruptly and brought her hand up to her mouth. Had she just called him by his given name? “I’m sorry, Mr. Rivers.”

  His eyes lit up and she saw his desire as plainly as could be. “Now I have two requests.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. That hypnotic, seductive tone of his couldn’t bode well. “What are they?”

  “First, that you will call me Marcus, at least when we are alone.”

  Her lips parted. The intimacy of his first name was almost as great as the intimacy of the kiss they’d shared. And she’d already made it clear that she couldn’t ever repeat the kiss.

  But what could she do, deny him this simple request and jeopardize the boon he was allowing her? That seemed very foolish.

  “Very well, Marcus,” she whispered, hating herself for how much it moved her to say his name aloud again. “What is your second demand?”

  “Request,” he corrected her. “And the second one is that when you come to the foyer, give my man the name Jasmine. I’ll be sure that is on the list of allowed guests and it will protect your identity. It will also signal to my staff that you are to be brought directly to me.”