“Yes, my lord, please do come to my rooms, just as you did before.”
“Very well.”
She raised herself on tiptoe and pressed a kiss on his jaw, her lips feather-light and warm. “I am excited,” she whispered, and then she was off, her slippered feet skimming the marble floor.
Aidan inhaled the barest lingering scent of roses in the air, the delicate, floral notes unique to Mira, and again wondered what Mira had been up to in the afternoon, when not a soul in the household knew her whereabouts.
Aidan waited until midnight before seeking out Mira. He tapped lightly on her door, lest he wake her if she’d already fallen asleep.
The door swung wide in an instant; she’d been waiting for him. She wore a thin filmy nightgown of the palest lavender, and a matching wrapper, both frothy with ruffles, ribbons, and lace.
“Come in, my lord,” she invited softly. She backed away so he could enter, closed and locked the door behind them. It was, he noticed, a vast difference from how she’d reacted when he’d come to her door a few nights before.
He saw that she’d lain out a thick, plush blanket in front of the fire, and placed a tray of food to nibble on, along with a bottle of whiskey and a magnum of champagne. Rose petals lay scattered on the blanket, pink and red and white, and pillows were piled up, plump and fat and perfect for reclining, all illuminated by the warm golden light of the fire and candles.
“I made us a tryst.”
“I see that.” Aidan glanced again at the spread that Mira had obviously gone to quite a bit of trouble to prepare.
He’d come to break off their engagement, and she’d thought it a romantic rendezvous.
“Come, my lord, and sit by me.” Mira sank gracefully to the floor and curled her legs behind her. She leaned on a pile of pillows and patted a spot for Aidan.
Feeling like a cad of the highest order, Aidan sat down onto the blanket. “My lady, I should tell you straightaway that I have come for a serious discussion.”
“Come now, my lord,” Mira interjected, cutting him off before he could say anything more. “We both know that we need to speak of matters that require deep discussion, but I don’t see any reason why we cannot be civil about it.”
“Civil conversations are generally conducted across a table,” he pointed out. “This is rather an intimate setting for what I’ve come to say.”
“Such gammon,” she said, picking up a whiskey bottle. “’Twas only a few nights ago you invited me to sit with you in front of the fire. I am trying to please you, my lord.”
Aidan accepted the glass after she’d poured him a healthy draught, and he waited until she’d poured herself a flute of champagne before sipping. She pushed the tray of delicacies in front of him. “Oysters with garlic, cheese and figs, and smoked meats on the most delectable bread you’ve ever tasted.”
Insomnia put Aidan in a perpetual state of hunger, for food, for sex, for sleep. At least there was one craving he could satisfy.
“You must have a few oysters,” she insisted. “They were gathered just this evening, and the cook worked wonders with them.”
Aidan obliged her, unable to refuse when she’d gone to such lengths. He sucked them from the shell, found them heavily seasoned but delicious. He enjoyed them along with the meats, and had to agree with Mira that the bread was excellent. Mira nibbled on the cheese and figs, sipped her champagne, and when they’d each had their fill, Aidan pushed the tray aside.
“As pleasant as this is, we really do need to talk,” he said.
“Very well, my lord. Do you want to go first, or shall I begin?”
Aidan wasn’t certain how to go about things, and so he simply said, “I fear you may be very upset by what I have to say to you. Perhaps you’ll want to keep your own counsel until you’ve heard me out.”
“As you wish.” Mira propped herself on an elbow, and Aidan wondered if she purposefully let her dressing gown slide off her shoulder, exposing the delicate line of her collarbone and the upper swell of her breast.
A curious warmth spread through his belly. Aidan ignored it, and took a sip of his whiskey to chase the bitterness that lingered in his mouth.
He dove into the truth of the matter like a cold lake, head first. “I think we should reconsider our engagement.”
“No,” she said simply. Her expression did not change, and a faint smile played around her lips. “You’re marrying me, and I shall not consider anything else.”
“I don’t love you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Perhaps you are not understanding me fully. I don’t love you now, and I feel certain that I never will.”
“Love is for commoners.”
“You can’t mean that. Surely you want more from life, from marriage? I know I do.”
The warmth was fast becoming heat, and Aidan felt himself growing hard. His balls were tight and full, a growing arousal that was nearly painful, reminding him that he’d yet to find release from his many months of abstinence.
Mira laughed softly, like music, and by the light of the fire she looked dewy and soft. He wanted to touch her skin, remembered the texture of her, and wondered where his passion for her had been all along, for it was here now, and he could scarcely control it.
Was he such a beast that he could love a woman and still want to bed another? Where was his loyalty to Olwyn?
“How could I want more from life than to be your wife?” she asked. “You are kind and witty, and I know you will be a good father to our children.” Her shining blue eyes traveled over his face and form, and a blush touched her cheeks. “And you are very, very handsome, my lord. Dangerously so. Your kisses are scandalously exciting, and the night things went too far, I dare admit, I became very aware that rendering my wifely due will present no hardship.”
Aidan’s erection throbbed and his blood pounded through his veins. He couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were visible through her filmy nightdress, little pink strawberries on skin that was as white and sweet as cream. He licked his lips and took another drink of whiskey, but the acrid taste in his mouth would not be washed away.
Mira took his glass from his hand and sipped it lightly. She wrinkled her pretty nose and laughed. “Did you not want to taste your drink from my lips?”
He noticed that the hem of her nightgown had shifted up, revealing her small, shapely legs up to her smooth knees.
But no, he thought, he did not want Mira. He wanted sex, for certain. Oh yes, he wanted to slide between a woman’s thighs like he wanted to breathe. But not a mindless coupling with a woman he did not love. No, he asserted again. No. Never again.
When he did make love to a woman, it would be with Olwyn, and it would be after vows had been spoken. He wouldn’t take another woman’s virginity again.
“I cannot stay here with you, my lady. But before I leave, I need to tell you—it is over between us. I will take the blame, agree to whatever story you wish to tell, and I will be named a cad to everyone who knows me. I swear I will protect the secret of what happened between us, and you can go to your future husband with your pride and honor intact.”
He kept talking, speaking in a rush so he could say what needed to be said before he lost what remained of his restraint. “I cannot consign us both to a lifetime of lovelessness because of one lapse in judgment. ’Twould be a mistake to do so, I feel it in my bones and my blood. And so I am sorry, my lady, truly, and I wish to make whatever recompense I can.”
Mira laughed again, that soft, wafting melody, and she leaned forward and kissed him. Her tongue slid inside his mouth and her tiny hands went straight to his crotch, settling on his throbbing, aching penis like a butterfly landing on a hot stone. She stroked him and he groaned, and yes, her mouth tasted of whiskey, but she smelled of sickeningly sweet roses and the faintest tang of sweat, as if she’d applied too much scent to hide a bad odor.
“Now, now, my lord,” she whispered against his mouth. “You must not fret overmuch. ’Tis a c
ase of cold feet, and nothing more, a fear of the unknown and premarital jitters. I promise you, all will be well.” She pulled back, looked into his eyes, and with her hand rubbing along the thick ridge of his arousal, said, “You do not need to love me to want me.”
Her touch was insistent, forceful, and for all her inexperience, awfully eager. His mind buzzed as if he’d drank far too much, and his thoughts were consumed with the need to push her onto her back and penetrate her.
He tried to cling to a semblance of sanity, reminding himself that this same woman would barely kiss him a few nights before, and had been quite insistent about not wanting a repeat of the night he’d taken her virginity.
Aidan pulled away, and pushed her hand from his lap. “Stop touching me,” he said roughly. “I can’t think.”
A wariness came into her expression, and for a split second she seemed off balance, as if she didn’t know what to do. She smiled then, uncertain. “I thought you might want to recapture the magic of our first night together, that perhaps then you would remember why you wanted to marry me in the first place.”
“I never wanted to marry you.” Aidan heard his nasty tone and knew his words to be insensitive, but he couldn’t control himself. He felt like an animal that had been let out of a cage, strangely angry and as randy as a young stallion in a field of females in full season.
“You did. You wanted me.”
He saw the quiver in her chin, the shine in her eyes, and yet he could not find compassion for her. Something niggled at him, pricking his memory like a fistful of nettles. “No, I didn’t. I wanted sex, and you were there.”
“How dare you?” she whispered, clearly horrified.
And out of Aidan’s muddled desires and conflicted emotions came one memory: Mira, at the ball, offering him little stuffed morsels of food that had been heavily seasoned, and the lingering, bitter aftertaste of them in his mouth.
Aidan closed his eyes briefly, gathering his self-control. He would have the truth. Using every bit of his will, he clamped down on his unruly longings and forced his buzzing mind to focus.
“My lady, forgive my crudity. That’s not what I meant. ’Twas only that you were so beautiful that night that I found myself stripped of my civility.”
“You hurt me with your words.”
“I am so very sorry.” Aidan watched her carefully, and saw the wariness return to her eyes. Intuition prompted him to call her bluff. “I should leave. Again, I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said, a touch too quickly. “Don’t go. We’ve yet to finish our discussion, and you haven’t even heard me out yet. Please, my lord, stay a moment more.”
Aidan settled back onto his cushion. “Very well. For a few minutes.”
Mira smiled prettily at him, and he watched as she leaned back as well, and this time she shifted so that more of her dressing gown gaped open. He could see the valley between the curves of her breasts, the slight rise of bone beneath soft skin.
It had an immediate effect, making him want to suckle on her breast as he thrust his way inside her. Why he’d found her so irresistible the night of the ball would no longer be a mystery.
“Are you still hungry, my lord?”
“I am, a bit.” Aidan reached to the tray and took a piece of cheese and a few dates.
“You didn’t care for the oysters?”
“I did. They were quite good.”
“Have a few more. It would be a shame to see them go to waste.”
Aidan shrugged as he chewed the fruit, trying to seem unaffected despite the sexual hunger that raged in his blood. He was as hard and tightly drawn as a sword, and his mind was muddled and humming with a lust so strong he wanted to wrap his fist around his cock and relieve it, right then, right there.
“Father says that certain foods taste better with certain drinks,” Mira said, as casual as if she were speaking about the weather. She poured a fresh flute of sparkling wine and extended it to him. “I have heard that oysters taste excellent with champagne. Taste it, and tell me if ’tis true.”
“Taste it for yourself,” he invited her.
“They make me ill,” she said, as if sad about it. “My skin blotches and itches if I eat seafood.”
“I have seen you enjoy fish.”
“Mollusks,” she corrected. “’Tis mollusks that I meant. Mussels make me ill, also.”
“Just the other evening you ate soup with shrimp, mussels, and clams, and you were quite fine.”
“No, my lord, I was not. I vomited that night.” She shivered in revulsion and stuck out her tongue. “’Twas vile.”
Aidan shrugged again, and ignored her request. He took a piece of the smoked meat and bread.
“My lord, the cook will surely be put out with me when she sees all her hard work was for naught.”
“If that’s the case, why don’t I take the rest and set them out for others to enjoy?”
Mira hesitated, and then laughed and waved her hand. “Sometimes I worry about the silliest things. Surely I don’t answer to your cook, and for that matter, the ocean is chock full of the little creatures.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers, and calmly asked, “What did you use to drug me? A cantharid, no doubt, but which one? Spanish fly, perhaps?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But her cheeks went very pale, save for two red spots that flagged her skin. She tried to wrinkle her brow prettily, but only managed to look wanly disturbed. “I despise insects.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Pardon?”
“Enough, Mira. I’m about three seconds from rape or violence, maybe both. Get to the truth quickly.”
She drew back, a hand on her throat, the other pressed protectively against her abdomen. Assessing him with wide eyes that had lost their feigned confusion, she seemed to be weighing her choices.
If Aidan hadn’t been so incredibly enraged and aroused at once, he might have felt an inkling of respect for Mira at that moment. He was a man who appreciated a person who could think on their feet and keep their wits about them even when threatened.
But he wasn’t in a charitable mood.
Aidan grabbed Mira and pulled her to the floor, covering her with his body. She let out a little yelp and began to struggle, but he ignored her. He ground his erection against her pelvis. “You want me?” he asked harshly. “This is what you want?”
He rubbed against her again, and she let out a little whimper as she said, “Stop.”
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To get me back between your thighs so I’d feel further beholden to you. You might have even gotten pregnant this time, and then you’d have me forever.”
She flinched. “You’re crude.”
He laughed, a cynical sound. “Your sensibilities are too fine for words that describe what’s natural, but you’re not above drugging a man to get what you want.”
“Get off me.”
Aidan looked down on her face, flushed now with exertion, and then pushed her from him as he rolled away from her. He couldn’t find a single real thing about her, other than her spite. Even her perfume was a lie. Mira Kimball was anything but sweet.
He realized that if Mira had taught him anything about himself, it was that he would not live without the truth.
Getting to his feet, he went to her armoire, opened it, and began rummaging through her things.
Mira rushed to his side and began tugging on his arm. “Please, stop. Stop it now, I say!”
“Call for help,” he answered her simply. He dug his hands into a deep drawer, feeling around on the bottom beneath layers of soft undergarments. “Let your father come running to your aid, only to find the tryst you’ve made by the fire and my cock bursting my breeches. Champagne, pillows, rose petals, and your magic oysters. Oh, aye, my lady. Your father will be interested in what you’re up to at the midnight hour.”
He stopped and reconsidered. Going through her things would be time-consuming, and Aidan wanted to get away fro
m Mira as quickly as possible. “You know, you’ve the right of it. I’m going to go have a word with your father right now, and see what he makes of the situation. Chances are, by the time I’m through speaking with him, he won’t want you marrying me anyway, aye?”
Mira’s eyes grew wider still. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know me at all,” Aidan said as he strode from her sleeping chamber.
Mira ran after him and grabbed his arm, hanging on it as he drug her across the floor. “No. Don’t.” Her voice was pure panic before she changed her tactic. Mira blew out her breath before she said, “Please. I beg you. Don’t go to him.”
He knew he had her. Mira loved her father above all else, and he felt the same way about her. She’d sooner die than tarnish his opinion of her.
Aidan paused and turned to look down on her. “Truth. Last chance.”
“I stole the powder from my father,” she blurted. “He uses it when he visits…female acquaintances.” Her cheeks burned bright red, and she added, “He doesn’t know that I am aware of it. And I’m not proud of the knowledge, either, but I’ve heard him boasting of its powers to other men, and I got to thinking…”
“That it would work on me,” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Aidan cast a glance at his breeches, where his erect penis was a barely contained bulge. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep his lust in check; it poured through him like a molten river of pure sexual hunger. It was no wonder he’d not been able to resist Mira that August night. As he was, he could barely resist the lure of his own hand. “Aye, well, it worked.”
“Will you tell?”
Aidan had to grin. The girl was truly audacious. She didn’t bother with excuses or explanations, or even an apology, but cut right to the heart of the matter. “I’ll make you a deal—you release me from my marriage proposal, and I’ll keep your dirty secret.”
Mira’s lower lip came out for a second, before twisting up to one side. “I don’t care for your terms.”
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