“As I’ve told you, he left me nothing but debts. Since his death, I’ve been struggling to pay his creditors. I’ve sold nearly everything that belonged to my father and used the money to pay your brother’s gentleman’s club, his tailor, his—”
“Are you insinuating that Colin left you destitute? He was the heir to an earldom. He had money.” Roberta sent her an accusatory glare. “Are you certain you didn’t spend it?”
“Quite certain, yes.” She gritted her teeth.
“Colin was always excellent with his money.”
Maddie bit the inside of her lip to keep in the details she knew Roberta would neither believe in nor care about.
With this avenue closed to her, what would she do?
She rose to her feet, giving Roberta a cool smile. “I can see this was a mistake. Forgive my intrusion.”
As she made her way to the door, Roberta raced to the portal and blocked her path. “After insulting my brother’s memory, you think you can just leave as if it never happened? I’ll have your apology.”
She glared at Roberta, feeling every minute of her sleepless night. The sore muscles of her inner thighs and the lingering hum of her body reminded Maddie of last night—and all the nights that lay ahead of her as Brock’s mistress. He could melt her body and empty her mind, almost instantly. If she wasn’t careful, he’d steal her very soul.
Anger and hopelessness welled up inside Maddie. Roberta had always been silly and vain. Now Maddie could add deluded to the list as well.
“You never saw your brother as he was. He enjoyed more than his share of gaming. And he spent a great deal on other women. The only things he left me were a mountain of debts and a cottage in which he kept his mistresses.”
“Colin would not have needed solace elsewhere if you had been more…receptive,” Roberta shot back.
Maddie reared back. Colin had told his sister that he found her cold?
She pushed past Roberta. “Forget I came here.”
Before she could make her way out, Roberta’s bird-like hands found Maddie’s wrist and stopped her short. “Do not insult my brother again. And do not darken my door until you can admit that you did not deserve such a wonderful man.”
Maddie wanted to shout that Roberta hadn’t truly known the “wonderful man” she blindly worshipped, but clearly she would never believe that Colin had been cruel.
“Then we shall not be seeing one another again,” Maddie replied crisply, then yanked her wrist free. “Goodbye.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Across Ashdown Manor’s candlelit burgundy-and brown-shaded dining room, Maddie stared at the bright smile Brock sent Aunt Edith. Its brilliance dazzled and infuriated her.
“What is India like, Mrs. Bickham?” Brock asked the older woman, seemingly enthralled.
“Hot!” Edith laughed, the little posies on her yellow and green hat bobbing about a collection of flowers. “And dusty. Oh my word! But the wilds are lovely, and I adored...”
Maddie ceased listening to her aunt and tried to focus on her current problem: the man sitting across her table.
The remnants of dinner lay between them, and still Maddie had spoken no more than two words to the blackguard who wanted her land and her body. She still could hardly believe Aunt Edith had invited him to dinner.
But Maddie was also shamefully aware that she’d hardly taken her eyes off of Brock all evening. Since she had become his mistress and they’d shared that stunning evening together on the floor, Maddie had spent another two nights in his arms. Each time she’d sought to resist him, Brock had reminded her of her obligation—just before he unraveled her with his touch, making her pant and mewl and plead. Heat suffused her skin just thinking about those sensual hours.
The first night, Brock had carried her silently to the little bed and undressed her. He had instructed her to undress him. Her heart had been beating, her limbs trembling. She had sighed when he’d kissed her, then moaned when he’d suckled her breasts to stiff peaks. Perspiration had heated her when he’d curled her fingers around his shaft and shown her how to stroke him. She’d felt sublimely boneless when he brought her to orgasm with his mouth, then again as they had joined. And again closer to dawn.
Come morning, she’d been furious with herself for succumbing and allowing the pleasure he gave her during those pleasure-filled hours to burn away the haze of her anger.
Last night had been no less consuming. He removed everything except her stockings. He had been too impatient to find the bed. Rather, Brock had led her to the sofa, then taken her on it after he’d urged her to straddle his lap. At his instruction, she had fed him her breasts—and he’d feasted slowly, lapping, nipping, making her completely wanton. She heated thinking about that—and what came next.
Brock had driven her wild as he had impaled her with his thick staff. The Milk and Water Embrace—she remembered that from the Kama Sutra. The description alone had made her blush. The reality had been a thousand times more staggering.
He had let her set the pace. The freedom and the power had been heady, and as with everything else, Brock used that to his advantage. After her first orgasm, when she was beyond protest, he took control again and drove her to a second bone-melting explosion.
When he finally released her, Maddie could not deny that she had screamed his name in ecstasy once more. As before, his seduction had dissipated her resolve to stay removed.
Despite the chasm between them, the intimacy with Brock left her dizzy and limp—and to her shock—feeling…complete.
Now she wondered what tonight would bring. Desire lanced her belly, pressing and demanding. She wanted him, even knowing that her desire was foolish and dangerous both. She would never admit it to him, but she craved the time alone with him, to feel his strong body filling her, driving her, then holding her tenderly, slowly stroking her skin afterward…
“Maddie?” Aunt Edith called, seemingly annoyed. “You agree, do you not?”
All eyes were upon her, waiting expectantly. They suspected she had been woolgathering, but only Brock was likely to know why—and she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
“Of course. Splendid,” she said, smiling directly at him.
Aunt Edith clapped. “How perfect! The three of you on a picnic. Won’t that be delightful?
Maddie’s smile fell. The three of them? She and Brock...and Aimee? Was that the plan she had unwittingly agreed to?
“Yes! I wanna go on a picnic,” cried Aimee.
Startled, her blinking eyes fell on her golden-haired daughter—dressed in her new frock and a pair of Maddie’s old dancing slippers. She stared in stunned silence. Had she actually—foolishly—agreed to bring Aimee along on a picnic with Brock?
No. It would be a disaster of the first order to allow a man as clever as Brock that much access to the daughter he did not know was his. Sooner or later, he would discern the truth. And he could use that knowledge to force her to the altar.
Maddie pasted on an awkward smile. “Goodness, I’m not certain that is a wise idea. It always rains this time of year—”
“I won’t let her get wet or cold, my lady.”
Brock’s voice was all charm. Maddie glared at him.
“I wanna go! I wanna go!” cried Aimee.
“You cannot agree to take her then change your mind, Maddie,” her Aunt Edith chided. “Let the girl enjoy herself. What harm can come of it?”
What harm indeed? Would Aunt Edith say that after Brock realized Aimee is his daughter and perhaps took the girl from her out of spite? Even if he didn’t, Aimee should not have any opportunity to grow too close to Brock. He would only be in her life for six months—if he didn’t walk away first, as he had done before.
“Mama, you said I could go,” Aimee protested.
“You did,” Brock chimed in.
“Let Aimee go. A picnic this time of year will be lovely.” Aunt Edith smiled, but Maddie wasn’t fooled. The older woman was matchmaking, as well as trying to for
m a bond between father and daughter.
Maddie wanted to scream, at her aunt for meddling, at Brock for manipulating the situation—at herself for remembering the pleasure he had given her rather than shutting him out of her thoughts and listening to the conversation.
But there was no hope for it now. If she appeared too reluctant, she might rouse Brock’s suspicions about Aimee.
Sighing, Maddie hissed, “She can go this once. If it rains, we will leave immediately.”
“Thank you, Mama! Thank you.” Aimee jumped around Brock’s feet, wearing a huge grin.
“I shall pick you up Friday afternoon about one,” he said to Maddie, wearing a triumphant grin.
Scowling, Maddie turned away.
“See my pretty dress?” Aimee asked Brock.
“Indeed. And such lovely shoes as well.” He glanced down at the too-big slippers with a smile that turned Maddie’s heart, despite her wishes. “Most becoming.”
“They’re Mama’s.”
“Really?” he murmured. “I would never have guessed.”
Aimee giggled, and Brock ruffled her hair with an indulgent grin. Maddie watched. When would he begin to wonder, to guess, about Aimee? He would; she feared it was merely a matter of time.
“Aren’t those dancing slippers?” he asked the girl.
Aimee hesitated, as if uncertain.
“Of course they are,” Aunt Edith answered.
“Dancing slippers are pretty.” Aimee dimpled.
“And made for dancing,” Brock added. “Shall we dance?”
“Yes!” Aimee cried with joy.
Brock stood and lifted her against him. “Why, thank you, Lady Aimee.”
Aimee curled a trusting hand around Brock’s neck. He flashed a brilliant smile at the girl, looking as if he were having almost as much fun as Aimee.
The sight of Brock holding Aimee, father and daughter together, albeit unknowingly, staggered her. He winked at the little girl, and she laughed. Their shared amusement and closeness made her throat tight, her chest ache. Brock and Aimee genuinely liked each other. And she must keep them apart.
Guilt mixed with roiling anxiety and unwanted tenderness to churn in her belly. If only she trusted Brock not to destroy her life, perhaps she could tell him the truth...
But she didn’t trust him. He was out for himself and for money. His interest in her and Aimee was temporary at best. Only she could protect her daughter from being hurt when Brock withdrew his attention in favor of his next quest for wealth.
“Aimee should go to bed now.” Maddie stood and reached out to take the girl from Brock.
“No!” Aimee cried. “I don’t wanna go to bed. I wanna dance.”
“Aimee—” she warned.
“Let the girl dance,” her aunt scolded.
Brock shot Maddie a quick grin then, holding his young daughter, turned about the room. He hummed a familiar tune with his strong, even voice. Through it all, Aimee giggled and squealed, clearly loving every moment. As if her enthusiasm were infectious, Brock tickled the girl and laughed with her.
They looked natural together. Maddie’s heart ached.
She second-guessed herself. Should she tell Brock the truth? Did she dare give him that much power to hurt her? Did she owe the truth to a man who had done little but deceive her?
Perhaps a better question was, did she owe Brock the truth for Aimee’s sake, so the girl might know her father? Perhaps, but what if he abandoned them again? Either way, was it fair for them to spend their whole lives not knowing the truth? She released a shuddering breath.
What would happen when, not if, Brock figured out her deception? His rage would be boundless, along with his desire for revenge. What might he do to her then? Perhaps he’d go easier on her if she told him now. And perhaps not.
Maddie didn’t know what to do.
Deep down, she feared she wasn’t being fair to either Brock or Aimee, but fear and indecision strangled her courage. And all of these passionate, sleepless nights were not helping her ability to decide...
A moment later, the dance ended. Brock set Aimee on her feet, then took her hand and bowed over it gallantly. “A smashing dance, Lady Aimee.”
The girl giggled. “Thank you.”
Aunt Edith clapped beside Maddie. “Lovely, just lovely.”
Suddenly, her aunt stretched and faked a yawn. “Well, I am exhausted and must retire for the evening.” She turned to Brock, “Forgive my abruptness, young man, but when a body gets old, it needs plenty of rest. Come along, Aimee, and I will read you a story.”
“A story, yes! G’night, Mama. G’night, Mr. Taylor.”
“Wait—” Maddie called to her aunt.
But with a wink and a smile, Edith was gone, Aimee in tow. Vema had long ago pleaded ill. Matheson had disappeared shortly after dinner.
She and Brock were alone.
Silence ensued and lingered. They stared at one another, a thousand thoughts running through Maddie’s mind, resentment, remembrances, uncertainty.
“Why invite Aimee and I to a picnic?” she asked finally. “What purpose does it serve?”
“Enjoyment.” He shrugged. “Just as I enjoyed myself tonight,” he said. “Your aunt is quite a character. And your daughter is wonderful. You have every right to be proud.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
“Thank your aunt for inviting me.”
They spoke to one another like polite strangers. It felt awkward...and somehow painful.
He withdrew his pocket watch from his waistcoat and glanced at its face. Was he considering the fact they had but two hours before they were due to meet in Paddington for another night of lovemaking? Desire and dread both gripped her at the thought.
Brock pocketed the watch. “I shall see you on Friday at one o’clock.”
Maddie frowned in confusion. “Not before?”
“You look as if you could use the rest,” he said with a soft smile, trailing a gentle thumb across her mouth.
Stunned, she peered at him. Had he genuinely put her needs above his desires? Or did he simply not want her?
Then, without another word, Brock brushed past her and showed himself to the door. He shut it behind him with a quiet click. Silently, Maddie stared after him.
The man constantly surprised her. Why did he release her from their bargain for the next three days? If he’d grown weary of her already, she should be glad. But she wasn’t. It hurt. She should loathe him, but she couldn’t. Her feelings were all tangled up in him again.
Even more perplexing, she knew that she would miss him. Maddie didn’t want to consider why.
#
Breezy sunshine, in contrast to Maddie’s mood, ruled the cloudless sky when the Friday afternoon of their picnic arrived. Though Maddie tried to calm herself, she found it impossible. Yes, Brock had seen Aimee before—more than once. But now he would have the opportunity to focus on her for hours. What if he started asking questions...or drawing conclusions?
“Mama, why are you frowning?” Aimee asked. “This is fun!”
“She didn’t like the food,” Brock told Aimee, smiling all the while.
“The food was lovely,” Maddie corrected.
She stared at their empty plates, bits of half-eaten fish and pastries, fruit, cheese, and bread. He’d brought a mountain of food, wonderful wine, and tea. Clearly, he had gone to great effort for this picnic.
Brock had even sent she and Aimee smart new dresses for the occasion. Her own was a confection of yellow muslin with a matching silk pelisse with a perfectly respectable high bodice. And Aimee’s dress in a charming, little-girl pink and lace fit her beautifully. He had picked a lovely, if unfashionable spot, in Green Park. They were virtually alone.
Still, she couldn’t relax. Maddie could not decide what to tell Brock about Aimee.
“Let’s play hide and seek!” Aimee suggested.
“A splendid idea.” Brock leapt to his feet. “Shall I count while you hide?”
; “Yes. Mama, cover your eyes and count.”
Maddie nodded, determined not to spoil this bit of fun for Aimee. “Don’t go far, sweeting.”
While she and Brock counted together, Maddie pretended to cover her eyes so she could keep an eye on Aimee. A glance over at Brock showed he’d had the same idea.
Until recently, she had imagined he saw Aimee as a means to work his way into her life. After that night in Whitechapel, she’d begun to reconsider that belief. Now, she couldn’t deny that he seemed to genuinely care about Aimee. How much and in what way, Maddie had no notion. Nor was she any closer to deciding what to tell him.
“...Eight, nine, ten. Here we come!” Brock shouted.
Aimee giggled from behind a tree a few paces away.
Maddie rose to her feet, and Brock came to her side. He took hold of her hand and enfolded it in the warm grasp of his.
Stunned, she stared. Why would he pretend to care for her?
“You’ve gone tense, sweet girl. No one is here to see our shocking display of ardor,” he teased before his face turned serious. “And I miss touching you.”
He’d said many things sexual to her, but never tender. Then he caressed her mouth with his thumb, taking her back five years and a handful of days, when she had believed they could share happiness.
With that gesture and a few simple words, her tense mood shifted. She felt stirred. Restless. So many emotions rose to the surface, Maddie could hardly name them. It confused her.
He confused her.
Though she wished otherwise, Maddie couldn’t deny she had missed touching him, too.
What was the matter with her, that she should miss wanton conduct with a man not her husband, a man who had done his best to swindle her out of her land, her very heart?
He could be your husband, if you wished it, a pesky voice reminded her. It was a ridiculous thought, of course. No one married simply for satisfying sex.
But she missed more about him than what they did alone at the cottage. As much as she hated to admit that fact, Maddie missed his smile, the way he teased and challenged her, even when he infuriated her. While Brock was doing his utmost to persuade her to the altar and change her life to his liking, Maddie admired his tenacity. The man simply did not give up.
Shayla Black Page 21