by Lavinia Kent
“Do we know each other?” He leaned toward her, his voice insistent.
She tried to pull away, being sure not to let the hood slip. “Let me go.”
“Answer my question.”
“I am sure we don’t.” She pulled harder.
“You seem quite familiar.”
“No.”
“What is your name?”
“I am quite sure you’re not supposed to ask that.”
“Ahh, a woman who knows the rules. I do like that.” His fingers bit deeper into her arm.
A sense of panic took her.
“Excuse me, madam. I believe I am expected to show you to your room. I did not realize you had strayed behind.” The porter returned to the top of the stairs.
Relief.
Lord Thorton’s fingers bit tight once more, then relaxed. His hand fell to his side, and without another word he continued down the stairs.
She hurried up the last few steps to the porter and let him lead her down the hall. They turned one corner, and then he paused before a closed door.
“Are you sure you wish to do this?” he asked.
Her mouth gaped, although she knew he could not see. Was he trying to dissuade her? Surely that was not part of his employment.
“Yes, I am sure,” she answered, her voice full of far more conviction than she felt.
“Very well.” He rapped upon the door and, hearing a reply from within, gestured for her to slip through.
Refusing to give in to the butterflies that massed and circled in her abdomen, she took that step, reminding herself of all the possibilities. Yes, she felt fear, but what of all the other things she felt, what about that sense of anticipation and wonder? If Colton could make her feel so much in a public garden, what might happen now that they were alone? No, that was not the way to think. Think of the game, think only of the game. Think of winning, of claiming her victory.
—
Angela had come—assuming that was Angela beneath the enveloping cloak. He hadn’t been sure that she would. In fact, he had rather thought that she would not, hoped she would not. It was hard to believe that she had thought this out. Why would any man marry a woman once he had had her? Well, there were reasons, money among them, but men sought a virgin on their wedding night. No man wanted a wife who was easily seduced or, in the case of Angela, one who attempted to do the seducing.
Could she be telling the truth? Could she want nothing more than him?
He did understand the need to explore forbidden desire. Could this be nothing more than that?
His body could certainly understand such motivation, but his instincts still cautioned him.
She inched farther into the room, letting the door shut behind her. The heavy cloak covered her, the hood so deep and full he had trouble believing she could see at all.
She stood still for a moment, then pushed the hood back, strands of blond hair trying to cling as it fell. He locked his eyes on her face, her bright eyes showing an edge of fear. The pulse in the side of her neck beat fast, despite the calm steadiness of her step. He resisted the urge to smile. She didn’t want him to know that she was anxious.
He saw her excitement as well: the wide pupils, the flush on her cheeks.
Remembering how much enjoyment she’d taken in their risky play the other night, he had to shift his weight, wishing his pants were looser.
Her lips parted, a fast quick breath escaping and then another pulled in. Her eyes stayed on his as she walked toward him.
“You came,” the needless words slipped from his lips.
“Yes. I admit that I considered hiding away, but this is what I want, and I learned as a child that you must work for what you want.” She stopped about two feet away from him.
“And you are willing to work?”
“Have I not already proved that?”
“You definitely proved something.” The urge took him to run a finger down her cheek, but he fought it off. He was forgetting his purpose here this evening. He needed to ensure that she had no desire to continue this game. It was not suitable for a young lady of her position. He did not want to be responsible for the ruin of anyone, and certainly not of a woman he had once, if mistakenly, thought he felt strong emotion for.
No. He needed to be sure she fled this place, never to return, and that she never played these games again—not with anyone.
It was the decision he had reached soon after he told her to meet him here. Somehow he had to push her so far that she could not continue. She had said she would do anything, and he would see if she meant it.
She took a step closer. He could smell her perfume: roses and spice. When he had been courting her, she had always smelled of lily of the valley. Somehow the scent demonstrated a change far greater than he wanted to think about. He had to succeed. He had to send her running back to her parents and the safety of society.
“What would you like me to do?” Her voice whispered about him. Her gaze had dropped to his mouth.
The arousal he’d been fighting sprang into action. The problem was that he could think of more than a few things that he’d like her to do—and not a single one of them was decent. His hand itched with the urge to touch, to stroke her pale flesh, to teach her exactly what it was he’d really like.
No.
Although that would surely send her running back to safety.
No.
He only indulged himself with willing, knowledgeable partners, and while she might pretend to willingness, she couldn’t understand what it was he wished of her. He could not believe that Ruby had truly told her everything. Well, Granderson would be a test of that.
“Are you going to speak, my lord? I cannot do what you wish if you do not tell me. Tell me what you want. What should I do?” Another half step forward. If she took a deep breath, the tips of her breasts would brush his chest.
It was all he could do not to step forward himself, not to bring them into contact.
There was something so different about her from the quiet woman he had come to know in the end, something so like the fiery girl who had drawn his attention. But was it real or an act? Could one person change so much?
“What I want is for you to be quiet. I will tell you when we are ready to proceed.” His own frustration made him brusque.
She blinked at his harsh tone. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t need you to understand. I need you to do as I say. That is what you said you were here for, is it not?”
“But…”
He turned from her and walked to take a seat before the empty hearth.
He heard her move to take the seat across from him. No words passed her lips.
Where was Granderson? He had hoped the man would be here before her. It would have been good to have the time to reassure himself that Granderson fully understood the game that they played. And if the two of them had greeted her together, she might have turned on her heels before she even came through the door. Even Ruby had made it clear she found his plans unacceptable; how much more so would Miss Ripon?
Her toe began to tap. His sweet lamb was not the patient type. He stared into the fire and did not look at her.
The pace of the tapping increased.
It was difficult not to show his own impatience.
A rap at the door.
He glanced over in time to watch her head turn.
The door opened and Granderson entered, his polished black boots sounding a tattoo of their own. “Forgive my tardiness. I am glad to see you waited.”
Her mouth dropped slightly, and he could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.
“Don’t worry. We would never start without you,” he replied.
—
What was going on? Angela could only stare at the strange man. He was blond and tall, although a few inches shorter than Colton and slightly broader. A smattering of gray marked the sides of his head. She half-recognized him, had probably been introduced at some point, but she could not truly pl
ace him. And what was he doing here? What if he recognized her? She might be willing to take more risks than she ought, but that didn’t mean she actually wanted to be ruined. Why was he here?
She started to ask but caught herself. She would follow Colton’s directions for a few moments more. For now she would trust, hard as that was.
The two men embraced once, slapping each other on the back, and then they both turned to consider her. The stranger’s eyes felt most appraising, particularly as they stopped upon her bosom. Her hands started to rise to fold across her chest, but she restrained them. She could not suppress the shudder that took her, however.
What was happening? What exactly did Colton have planned?
Forcing her eyes back to Colton, she concentrated on his face and nothing else. His eyes were cold, but as she kept her gaze on his face she detected a subtle change, something hard to measure.
She closed her eyes for the barest of seconds and tried to find that belief in herself that Ruby had spoken of. If she could pretend even for a few moments that all was as she wanted, this just might work. All she had to do was believe.
She pulled in a deep breath, remembered her cause. She could do this.
She opened her eyes and met Colton’s gaze. For a second she felt that he saw nothing but her, and something warm flickered in her belly. When he looked at her like that, it was much easier to pretend she would do anything for him. A hesitant smile formed upon her reluctant lips.
She could do anything—at least for a few minutes at a time. And that was how she would do this, minute by minute.
And then his face changed again; a flicker of doubt and then ice entered his eyes. His gaze moved to the other man. “Granderson, have you had the pleasure of meeting, Angela, my angel?”
Her momentary warmth fled.
He was using her name? Somehow she’d thought they’d cling to anonymity here at Madame Rouge’s, even if it was only a pretense. And Lord Granderson: She did know him—not well, but when she’d first come out, a few years ago, he’d occasionally hung about the edge of the ballroom before heading off to the card room. She should have recognized him immediately.
Granderson stepped forward and placed a finger beneath her chin, turning her face to his. He looked her straight in the eyes, his dark-brown ones gleaming in the candlelight. “Yes, I do believe we have been introduced,” he said. “Although I do not remember her being such a beauty.”
“I’ve only recently begun to fully appreciate her myself,” Colton replied, stepping away.
He was moving back? She was here for him. If he left the room, she really would run—and never look back. Locking her knees, she tried to hold herself still.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
“I think she has questions, Colton,” Granderson said, dropping her chin. “Did you tell her about me? I hope you at least assured her that I am very good at keeping secrets.”
“Now, what would have been the fun in that?”
“But—”
“Don’t worry, our sweet little lamb has made it very clear that she’s up for anything. Haven’t you, my dear Angela?”
Stay calm. She needed to stay calm even if she wanted to flee. He couldn’t mean what it sounded like, could he? And if he did?
Was she prepared to leave, to end this game? How far was she willing to pretend?
She’d never even imagined this scenario.
Too many questions.
She turned her face to Colton, trying to read in his face what was happening. His eyes seemed almost lifeless. He was hiding from her—of that she was sure.
She swallowed, considering.
“I think she still does not quite understand what we want,” Granderson said. “Perhaps you should explain.”
Colton lifted a finger and beckoned to her. She walked to him, trying hard not to betray just how nervous she was. He reached out and stroked a cheek; his gesture was not that different from Granderson’s, but its effect was dramatically different. Despite everything, somehow he represented safety. Her whole body wanted to relax into him.
What was so different about him? Why did she feel this way? Focusing on this question, she tried to ignore all the others, tried to ignore what was happening. She knew that she should be horrified. Hell, she was horrified. But there was something about Colton that made her believe he would never hurt her—even after he had hurt her, even now when everything in her screamed to run.
She indulged in that momentary sense of safety, leaning into his touch, relishing the feel of his thumb brushing over her cheek.
His thumb moved up and down. “I sometimes like to share my treats. I’ve been that way since I was a child. Whenever I was given a toy or a sweet, I enjoyed it much more if someone else enjoyed it with me.”
The gentleness of his touch was in great contrast to his words and tone. His touch said, I care, I cherish, I protect. His words said anything but.
God, did he want what she thought he did?
Why had Ruby not warned her?
Ruby had given her plenty of warnings, though. Perhaps she had tried to warn Angela but she had been too naïve to understand.
She pulled her face back. “I am still not sure I understand.” She whispered the words. It was necessary that she understand exactly what he was suggesting before she made up her mind.
He tilted her chin slightly, so that she looked up at him. “I want you to let Granderson touch you while I watch. It will not be so different from what you did the other night, except that he will be the one touching you.”
This seemed quite different to her.
“I am sure you will enjoy it,” Colton continued. “He is quite talented.”
No. She shook her head. She might have wanted him to think she would do anything for him. She might have needed him to think that, but nothing was worth this.
Nothing.
Colton moved his hand forward, held her chin tight. “Do you want to leave? I will not force you to do anything.”
He wanted her to leave. Sudden certainty filled her.
Why? What game did he play?
Questions. So many questions.
And then the answer. He didn’t want her. He still did not want her.
This was all one more way to get her to leave him alone.
But she would not let him make her feel worthless again.
She would not make it so easy.
She must be confident, must believe in her goals.
She had a plan. She would not be the one to back down. She would think of this as one more dare, one more obstacle to get what she wanted.
Steel determination filled her.
She tilted her chin up, pulling it from Colton’s hand. “Why would I want to leave? I have promised to do what you wish. I admit that this”—she glanced at Granderson—“was not what I had expected, but I can be flexible. I came to you to learn. I will accept this as one more piece of my education.” Her hand rose to the pins she had used to close her bodice, pulling one loose. “Would you like me to show you my breasts again?”
Twisting the pin in her hand, she pricked her palm, using the pain to clear her head, to keep her from showing just how shaken she actually was.
Colton turned to Granderson, lifting a brow in question.
Why did she feel she was missing an entire conversation that was going on between them?
Granderson appraised her again, his eyes returning to the swell of bosom above the edge of her dress. “I’ve always preferred to do the disrobing myself. It adds to the anticipation.” He took a step toward her. “You don’t look comfortable, my dear. Perhaps you would like to sit.”
Sit. She glanced toward the chairs that she and Colton had previously sat in, but Granderson nodded behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder.
The bed.
How had she missed the bed? It was huge. More than huge. Monstrous. Dark-wood posts against a dark-red coverlet, the white of the linen visible at the head
. It was amazing that she had noticed anything else with that in the room—although she hadn’t really noticed anything besides Colton. Whenever he was in the room he seemed to draw her gaze.
She looked at him now, saw his eyes move between her and the bed.
He wanted her to sit on the bed. At least, she hoped he meant sit. It was so hard to tell. There seemed to be so many different levels of communication going on between the two men.
She glanced to Colton again. He nodded.
Her legs felt like tree branches, solid and heavy, as she walked to the bed and sat down on the end. It was a high bed, and she had to climb a little, leaving her feet hanging. Was there anything designed to reduce one to childhood like one’s feet not touching the floor?
She did her best to focus on nothing but Colton. If this was what she needed to do to play their game, she would manage. She could do this. She could.
She pulled a measured breath in, let it out.
Colton had said “touching.” Granderson was going to touch her, only touch her. That could not be so bad.
Did she need to pretend to enjoy it? Was that necessary for her to win? And was winning worth the price? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she could not back down. She never backed down.
Granderson walked from her field of sight, coming around behind her.
Look at Colton’s eyes. Look only at Colton’s eyes.
She felt the bed shift behind her, Granderson’s weight pressing down one side.
Don’t look. Breathe. Concentrate on Colton, on his dark-green eyes. They shone like bottle glass in the flickering light. She used to get lost in those eyes. Perhaps she could again?
Granderson settled behind her, not touching but nearly. She could feel his breath on her neck.
No, she was not getting lost in those eyes. Every shift of the bed filled her with awareness of what was happening.
“She’s nervous. I always love it when they’re nervous but willing,” Granderson said, his breath rustling her curls.
Colton turned from her, losing her gaze, and moved to the chairs by the fireplace. “I know exactly what you mean—that pulse in the neck, the shallow breaths, the wide eyes, the edge of fear but far from terror. The great power of the unknown.” There was a strange quality to his voice, something she had never heard before. Without looking back at her, he lifted a chair with absolute ease and carried it nearer to the bed, setting it down about four feet away. He took a seat, legs splayed, back upright, a king upon a throne—but an uncomfortable king. He lacked the sense of ease that always accompanied him.