Six Weeks With a Lord

by Eve Pendle

  “No, it’s a good thing.” Her slickness invited him in, and he smoothly circled his forefinger inward. She moaned as two of his fingers slipped into her, and the sound shot into him. Her heat and wetness distracted him momentarily from his task and reveling in the feeling of her. But then she moved against him, rubbing herself to him and rolling her nipples in her hands. The longing to gratify her was merciless. He moved his hands in tandem, circling the nub of her pleasure as he stroked and pressed the rippled flesh inside her.

  “Look,” he insisted. Her eyes opened, the pupils dark. In the mirror, he watched as her eyes moved up and down, flitting as she took in the sight of her body and his. Then their gazes met in the mirror and his heart shook. The feeling of union as they watched was as heady as the wine they’d drunk over dinner. His fingers were over and in her, evidence of her desire glistened between her legs, her back was pressed to his front. She was naked and vulnerable and watching him with plain desire, her eyes wide and mouth open with wordless arousal. But he wanted more. However close they were, skin to skin, he wanted to be inside her, joined together. He needed her to want it enough to untie the knots she tied in her mind to keep him out.

  “When you ask me to, I’ll make love to you like this.” He moved in a simulation of what he wanted, fitting his cock snugly into the gap between her buttocks as he plunged his fingers into her. The shard of satisfaction went through the tip of his cock, all the way to the base of his spine. “You’re so wet, I’ll slip in easily. Grace, I want to be as intensely close to you as a man and woman can be.”

  Her eyes fell closed and her head rested back on his shoulder. He didn’t let up, making smaller and smaller circles around the center of her nub. She moaned uncontrollably, her cheeks flushed, her hands still on her breasts. He felt her tighten around his fingers and her moans transformed to a cry. Leaning back onto him, her body shook as she reached the peak. The faith that her resting her weight on him implied surged through him.

  They were skin to skin, but not joined. She allowed him to support her, but hadn’t capitulated. The space between them was still bigger than he wanted to admit, and there was hardly any time left to span it. He had to have her, or the illusion of it. His eyes closed and he allowed himself to imagine Grace willingly opening to him. He pulled her closer and rubbed his cock on the slickened skin of her buttocks. With the feel of her quim beneath his fingers and her sighs of ecstasy in his mind, it hardly needed more than a few hard movements and he peaked, the pleasure a quick serrated stroke.

  As he carried her to the bed, he told himself that if she really intended to go, she wouldn’t open herself thus. He could ask her outright while she was warm and sated in his arms, as was his instinct. But she almost seemed to have forgotten that they had a temporary marriage, a bargain, and he wasn’t going to remind her. If what he gave her was heady enough, she wouldn’t leave. He almost convinced himself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Sixth Week

  “I don’t know why you insist on wearing your hair up, darling,” Everett whispered in her ear as he came up behind her sitting at her desk.

  Grace leaned into him. He stroked down her neck, leaving a fragrant recollection of passion. Since the hotel, they’d spent their nights together in Everett’s bed. He’d not mentioned the time of their bargain nearly finishing, though he must be able hear the same bell chimes in his mind as she could, signifying the last week. She was thankful. She didn’t know if she could form the words that would commit her to staying. Not without words of love spilling out, too. Not yet.

  “It just makes me want to take them out and see your beautiful hair.” He smoothed his fingers from her forehead to nape.

  It was luxurious being with him. His fingers always worked some magic whether he touched her hair, her quim, her nipples, or any exposed skin. He was terrible for her concentration. “Are you taking out my hair pins again? How am I to explain to Letty that she has to redo my hair in the middle of the day? Again.”

  “Thwarted.” Everett gave a dramatic sigh and kissed the top of her head.

  She didn’t thwart him enough, but she hardly needed to. They still hadn’t consummated their marriage. But he’d introduced her to a maelstrom of other pleasures to give and receive.

  “Well, if I can’t divert you from your work, I shall have to do my filial duty.” He came around to in front of her. “I’m going to see the dowager.”

  “The walls again?” Several times a week, the dowager demanded visits from her son to complain about critical things like the gate house windows being dirty or a few of the capstones on the drystone walls having fallen over.

  “I thought I’d sorted that. She sent a note saying there is an urgent matter she must discuss with me. Probably something about a new phaeton, or the necessity of putting in electric lighting.” They shared weary smiles.

  His hand stroked down her neck and arm as he kissed her goodbye, leaving heat in its wake. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

  It took Grace several minutes to refocus on the long court proceeding she’d been reading before Everett had scattered all her focus. But eventually, she was immersed in the minutiae of the barristers’ arguments in the case of the custody of a little girl.

  It took her a moment to hear the knock at the door.

  “Enter,” she called, and John Footman entered.

  With a silent bow, John handed her a heavy, smooth calling card.

  Earl Rayner.

  Panic made the words blur in front of her eyes. A visit from Lord Rayner couldn’t bode anything good for her. She opened her mouth to ask for Everett, but he wasn’t there and suddenly, she felt more alone than she’d been in the months away in Geneva. Biting her lip, she looked again at the card.

  Why was he here? Was Henry ill? Hurt? Dead. Oh God. If anything had happened to him. John was still waiting for her reply, even as images of Henry, injured and in pain, flickered in her mind.

  “He’s waiting in the drawing room, my lady.”

  She gathered herself together, knowing what Rayner had come for was essential. “I will receive him in my parlor.”

  Following John out, she entered and settled herself into the room that didn’t feel as familiar as it should.

  “Lord Rayner, my lady,” announced John.

  Grace’s lungs felt like they had been filled with sand. He looked just the same, a golden boy with a knowing smirk. She was vaguely aware of him making remarks about how good it was to see her.

  “Henry. Is he well?” Grace demanded.

  Rayner grinned like a cat watching a baby bird. “He was quite well, last I saw him.” The words were insincere and loaded, but she knew relief showed on her face.

  To counteract her inevitable weakness, she lifted her chin. “Please do be seated, Lord Rayner.”

  She nodded to John for him to stay, and he stepped unobtrusively into the corner of the room.

  “Surely, old friends, such as ourselves, need not be overheard by the servants?” Lord Rayner settled himself on the settee. The emphasis on the word “friends” made her shudder.

  She debated whether John should remain, but her promise to Everett rose into her mind—they still had a bargain to maintain. The servants must believe this was a love match, with nothing untoward, or she’d have betrayed her word. Lord Rayner could wreck that with a few choice phrases in front of a footman. He would know all the London gossip and would not be circumspect. Moreover, there were other things the servants should not know about or hear them discussing.

  Grace swallowed the dryness in her throat. “You need not stay and be bored by our chatter, John. But would you bring some tea?” This would be easier with a barrier between them and a scalding teapot would do admirably.

  The door clicked shut.

  “It was a very cowardly thing to do, deserting your responsibility for poor little Henry.” He relaxed into the settee as though he were in his own home. “He misses you terribly, you know. I was surprised at you, to be hones
t. Running off, ruled by your own lust, marrying the first man you find. I thought your brother meant more to you than that.”

  His words hit her insecurities, just as she knew he meant them to. She shouldn’t have abandoned Henry, an innocent boy, she should have…left herself vulnerable to a man who was capable of unspeakable things?

  The decision had been clear at the time. But doubt was there in a shallow grave, a ghastly thing, waiting to be reanimated.

  She widened her eyes, pretending to misunderstand. “I simply had to see Caroline in London after such a long time away in Geneva. I’m sure Henry was quite safe with you, his guardian.”

  “You valued your little friend over the bond of blood, our lifelong friendship, and your father’s wishes.” Rayner shook his head sorrowfully, then sighed. “And yet, I feel that Christian compassion requires that I give you another chance. You can make it right. Come back with me.”

  He knew nothing of compassion. “I can’t. I’m married now.”

  Rayner frowned and gave a tiny shake of his head. “You want Henry with you. I can give you that. I will provide you with a house, and Henry will visit you there. And I will visit as well, of course.”

  She would be his kept woman—she had avoided marriage to him, so now he offered much less.

  “If you really love Henry, you will accept these terms. At the moment, you live with a stranger, apart from your family. What I am offering is reasonable. Everything you want, in return for leaving a marriage you do not want. All I wish is a quiet life. And you will give up the silly nonsense in Chancery. It is stillborn. We will annul your little mistake and you can see Henry.”

  The thought of an annulment squeezed her heart painfully… But Henry. Rayner sounded so equitable, as though he’d matured. She had to think about what was best for her brother. He was his appointed guardian, and he said that she could visit Henry. In light of that, what did her happiness really mean? In a house of her own, the majority of the time, wouldn’t she be content enough?

  An upwelling in her said no, that she had to be with Everett above everything else, and it would be folly of the greatest sort to trust a devil like Rayner. But she wondered how much he had changed. “Would you respect my wish for distance, if you visited?”

  “Of course,” Rayner protested, looking taken aback. “You would command the same respect in my eyes that you always have.”

  None, then.

  A quiet knock at the door announced the arrival of John and the tea. Grace and Lord Rayner sat in silence, while John placed the china down carefully. The tension seemed to amplify every tiny chink of porcelain. But even so, Grace thought John was rather slow in his task. He then offered to serve, and when Grace dismissed him, seemed to hesitate at the door. Only when she heard his footsteps recede down the corridor did she return to their conversation.

  “I see. But you understand that I have reason to think that perhaps you do not respect me.” Grace did not pour the tea. She wouldn’t serve him.

  “That was a long time ago.” Rayner’s smile had a hint of impatience in it.

  “Not so long ago. I think Anna still remembers your actions. I certainly remember when I send her money.” Just saying the words invoked the brittle fire that lit in her every time she wrote Anna’s address to send the allowance.

  “I told you at the time.” He shook his head regretfully. “There’s no need for you to do that. It was caused by her own foolishness. She should have taken some precaution against pregnancy. Women like her know how.”

  Women like Anna. Hardworking, ambitious, goodhearted girls who could be swayed by a charming and powerful man. And presumably, he meant women like Grace, too, if he wanted to set her up as his whore.

  “Oh, yes, I remember now.” The words boiled out of her like the pressured steam from a kettle spout, a little shrill. “It is my maid’s fault that you raped her, took her virginity, and left her with the shame of a child out of wedlock.” Grace took several measured breaths. “Your daughter’s name is Mary by the way.”

  “The child could be any of twenty men’s, and I don’t want to go over this again, Grace.” Rayner’s tone of forced patience made her want to throw hard and damaging projectiles at him, again and again, until he sank down and could never hurt anyone she loved.

  “The opinions you hold are those of a naive girl. Surely, you comprehend the situation now you are married? She led me on. She let me kiss her and walk her home. What was I to think?”

  He should have thought that she was a person who deserved his respect. “Did you think about the consequences for Anna, as you used her?”

  He curled his lip with derision. “She only said no once.” He shrugged, a careless gesture that made her hand clench with the craving to strike him. “All the indications were that she was of ill repute. I know that she convinced you that she was an innocent, but you have a tender heart. She was much too easy with her favors to be a virtuous woman.”

  The image of Anna’s face as she had explained what had happened came back to Grace with the force of a blow. Anna had come to her, saying she would have to leave her service. Grace had been frustrated, questioning and pushing her until the poor girl had broken down and told her. Silent tears had fallen down her face as she described how Rayner had laughingly caught and held her when she’d said no and forced himself upon her. The muted anguish had eventually given way to a wretched, noiseless, shaking sob onto Grace’s shoulder. Anna’s tears had soaked all the way through to Grace’s chemise.

  “I don’t care if she danced naked in front of you, you shouldn’t have touched her.” Grace was vibrating now with the effort of containing her rage and fear and contempt. “She said no. She was my maid, Rayner. I was responsible for her.”

  “I’m sorry if my actions offended you, but—”

  “Offended me?” Grace exclaimed in a furious undertone.

  “I’m here to help now. You didn’t have to marry him.” He shook his head, his brows nudging together in concern. “You should have asked me. We’re friends.”

  “Were friends.” They had been friends; that was the worst thing. The memory made the sleeves of her gown prickle uncomfortably against her skin.

  Rayner sat back and tipped his chin up, appraising her. “Your father came to me, you know. After you left.”

  He said the words in a way that left her no doubt her father had told him the details. The prickle on her arms spread down her torso. She fought the instinct to curl protectively forwards. She kept her shoulders back and didn’t reply.

  “He wanted us to marry. He said, ‘beauty, money, and power belong together.’”

  It was exactly the sort of thing her father would have said. That he had come straight out and offered his daughter to his aristocratic neighbor when she was showing signs of having her own opinions on the matter, was probably inevitable, given his state of mind.

  “You don’t have to stay here with some stranger. Come with me. It’s what your father would have wanted.”

  Everett was not a stranger. It was Rayner, her childhood friend, a Janus with a fair countenance and honey voice, who was a stranger. Because, however lovely the gold side of him was, the darkness was only an inch turn away. What her father wanted was irrelevant now.

  “Give this up, and I’ll take care of you and Henry.” He sounded so rational as he asked her to be his whore.

  Grace stroked one hand, then the other down her arms, brushing off the prickling sensation. “You would take care of my money and leave me to rot.” She stood and gestured toward the door. “I am married to Lord Westbury. And I would no more come to you for help than a priest would turn to Beelzebub. Is that all?”

  Rayner sat forward and gave her an appraising look. “I’m not sure I like Henry’s tutor.”

  Grace struggled not to blink in confusion. “He is four years old. He should have a nanny.”

  Rayner swatted her comment away. “He is much too old to be coddled by a nanny. But the tutor I was recommended is perhaps
a little strict for a boy of his sensitivity. A good Christian man, he is of opinion it is important not to spoil a child.”

  Spare the rod, spoil the child. Henry was being beaten. Every day, probably. Or more often, knowing Henry’s spirit. Imagining the marks this tutor would be putting on his babyish skin, Grace’s chest throbbed with the need to scoop her brother up and protect him. She couldn’t let him be hurt.

  “Get him a new tutor.”

  “I’m a busy man. I don’t have the time to spend interviewing another tutor or checking up on the boy. But if you were to take up my offer, you could oversee his tutor. That’s the way things ought to be. You would have the time to look for a new tutor for him, if you wished. As long as I approved, of course.”

  She couldn’t say anything. She was stuck.

  “I know how you care for your brother, Grace. How could you want him to be unhappy?”

  …

  The carriage outside the front of the house was the first thing Everett noticed as he returned from a rather trying visit to his mother. She had heard the Milners in one of the neighboring estates had a new phaeton that Everett simply must go and see, with a view to purchasing one for himself. Without such a thing, their standing in the community must be diminished, it was so practical and comfortable, etc. etc.

  Clarke strode over, his expression serious, as Everett handed over the reins of his mare to the stable hand.

  “Who is the visitor?” A premonition snaked down his spine.

  “A gentleman. Lord Rayner, my lord.”

  Everett was already running toward the house. Lord Rayner, with Grace? Absolutely not. Mr. Alnott might think Lord Rayner would not dare to hurt a lady, but he knew better. He ran through the house, dodging the shocked servants, blood pounding in his ears, blind with the need to get to Grace.

  He slowed to a walk, controlling his breathing as he approached her sitting room, not wishing to announce his presence unduly. As if by chance, John was intently polishing a table opposite the sitting room. The footman’s expression was dark with concern when he made reluctant eye contact with Everett. He was not impressively tall, but Everett was glad of him keeping guard.