“Yes.”
He led her into the room and locked the door behind them. Alice suddenly wished she hadn’t left her brandy behind. She was in need of a stiff drink.
Why is this so wrong and yet it feels so right?
On a low table various bottles of wine and champagne were set. Harry had said he wanted her clearheaded for this evening, but she would dearly love to take the edge off her passions. She fought off the lure of alcohol, knowing that it was the one thing she could resist. Her body craved a hundred other heated temptations.
Harry crushed the end of the cannabis cigar into a nearby glass ashtray, then returned to Alice’s side. He pulled her to him and captured her mouth in a scorching kiss. Lips and tongues met in a now familiar dance. When Harry groaned into her mouth, Alice’s core clenched once more.
She wanted this man, ached to have his hands on her naked body. To let him do to her whatever he wanted. To give and be possessed.
Nimble fingers made quick work of the laces on her gown before tugging the front of her bodice open and pushing the sides down. He frowned at her undergarments.
“Tut-tut, Alice. A light corset? I would have thought you would go for the French fashion and wear nothing under your gown,” he teased.
She drew in a shaky breath and tried to steady her nerves. “Yes, well this is England and it is early December. This gown is chilly enough. The corset helps bridge the gap between being fashionable and warm.”
So much for being a sexual siren.
From inside his boot, Harry produced a small knife. He gripped the top of Alice’s stiff undergarment and grinned. “I hope you have plenty of these at home. May I?”
Harry’s knife was pointed at the laces. She gave a moment’s brief pause, then nodded.
With a deft flick of the blade, he cut the front of her corset straight down the middle, all the way to her waist. Without hesitation, Harry pushed the two halves apart and bared Alice’s breasts.
She gasped. “Oh.”
Cool air kissed her nipples, instantly turning them to hard pebbles. Before she had time to fully absorb the shock of being semi-naked in front of him, Harry had laid his hand on one of her breasts, resting it in his palm. His thumb gently rubbed back and forth over her peaked nipple.
“May I?” he asked again.
She wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking this time, but she nodded anyway. The way lust was coursing through her body, she didn’t have the willpower to say no.
Bending, he took the rosy bud between his teeth and gently nipped. It sent a powerful shockwave through her body. “Oh god,” she moaned.
As he proceeded to lick, suck, and nip at first one breast, and then the other, Alice was left struggling for air. With her hands resting on his shoulders, she was at his mercy. An ever-growing need for release slowly built as Harry inflicted a masterful, exquisite torture on her body. Heat pooled in her core and her clit throbbed.
When he finally released her from his attentions, Alice whimpered.
Why did you have to stop?
With her hand in his, Harry led Alice over to a nearby low sofa. When he had arranged her with her back against it, he took her lips once more in a soft, tender kiss. She sensed his hard erection poking against her stomach, and the memory of the woman downstairs with her lover’s cock in her mouth suddenly filled Alice’s mind.
Will he want me to do that to him? He will have to teach me.
“Are you ready for more?” he asked.
This game of sexual manners was exactly what he had promised. Nothing happened without her express approval.
“Yes.”
He slid a hand beneath her skirts, tracing his thumb up the inside of her thigh. When he touched the tip of her sex, he stopped. Alice whimpered with need.
“May I?”
“I shall die if you don’t” she replied.
And with that, he slipped his thumb into her wet heat and began to stroke. Each time he withdrew to the edge of release, his knuckle rubbed over her sensitive bud and she sobbed.
“Harry.”
Harder and deeper he stroked her, creating an urgent need which built steadily within. Between her sobs and groans, all Alice could do was let Harry take the lead. She was completely at his mercy.
“You saw the woman on the table being pleasured by a man’s mouth. Did it arouse you?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“May I?”
She had got in enough of an aroused state simply watching from the top of the landing. The prospect of Harry doing that to her had Alice sucking in a shuddering breath.
“Please,” she whispered.
He drew her onto the carpet, then knelt between her legs. The instant his tongue touched her oversensitive nib, her hips bucked. A wicked chuckle echoed in the quiet space. The rogue knew how close she was to exploding.
“Harry,” she begged.
He answered her plea with his thumb and mouth, thrusting into her sex while he licked and sucked at her clitoris. She grasped for him, her fingers spearing into his hair.
Tension throbbed through her body. She was desperate to reach that final climax. After tearing his mouth away, Harry rose over Alice and thrust two fingers deep into her heat. He continued to run his thumb around the edge of her bud, teasing cries and groans from her.
She met his gaze, hungry and urgent. It was as if his green eyes had turned ablaze. The passion on his face was breathtaking.
“Come for me, Alice. Break free of that cage and embrace who you are.”
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
He wiped his face on the edge of her torn corset, then captured her lips. As his tongue pressed into her mouth, his fingers thrust deep into her sex. Alice clutched at the soft linen of Harry’s ridiculous toga, tearing it between her fingers as she sought to find purchase in the swirling maelstrom.
One hard, final thrust pushed her over the edge. She came hard, screaming. “Harry!”
He kissed her once more, while continuing to stroke her as she lowered from her climax. Her whole body still thrummed with pleasure.
“Good girl. Now you get champagne,” he murmured.
He got to his feet, leaving Alice lying on the floor. For a time, she lay staring up at the ornate cornice which edged the cream-colored ceiling, her heart still thumping hard in her chest. She had just had her first orgasm with a man, and it had been stupendous.
Her brain, meanwhile, was still trying to make sense of it all. Of where she was and with whom. A matter of days ago, she only knew Lord Harry Steele by word of his reputation. And now . . . well, that had just happened.
When her orgasm-scrambled mind finally took in her surroundings once more, Alice sat up. Across at the table, Harry was busy pouring champagne into a glass.
“I think I may have to hide this corset from my maid. She might ask questions as to what happened to it,” she said.
He wandered back over to her and helped Alice to her feet. “I could explain it to her if you like. Or you could just leave it here.”
She returned his cheeky grin with a soft chortle. The less any of the North family servants knew about her secret, scandalous life, the better. There was already more than enough explaining to be done when her parents returned to England.
With champagne glasses in hand, they settled onto the sofa. Harry drew Alice into his arms, brushing a kiss on her forehead.
“I’m proud of you tonight. You stayed when many other women would not have done so. And you shared a part of yourself with me that honestly leaves me humbled.”
This evening had been one of many revelations. She had placed her trust in Harry and allowed herself to come under his careful loving. What she had learned about herself and her desires, however, would take some careful thought and reflection.
Alice had an ever-growing list of questions to ask Harry about his life, but now didn’t seem the right time. They had shared an intimate moment, one where she had offered her body to him freely.
She d
idn’t want to think about how many other women he had brought to this place. Nor which of them had also fallen to Harry’s tempting touch and foolishly offered him their hearts.
Here am I trying to save Patience from making a stupid mistake, and yet I could be doing something even worse.
The irony of the situation was all too clear.
“What happens now?” She left it an open-ended question, allowing Harry to decide the direction his answer would take.
“We finish our champagne, and I take you home. As for our friend, Mister Saint, I am expecting some reports to arrive tomorrow regarding him and his provenance. Once I have those, we should make some decisions. I have a feeling time may not be on our side,” he said.
Alice pulled out of Harry’s embrace and sat up, setting her champagne glass on the floor. She pulled the ripped corset free and set it aside. Here seemed as good a place as any to abandon it. She began to work the laces of her gown as best she could. Focusing on dressing seemed the best response to her disappointment at him failing to mention either them or what had just occurred.
Perhaps he is angry. Was he expecting me to pleasure him? Of course, he was.
She turned and laid a hand softly on his knee, brushing her fingers up and down.
His hand stilled hers. “No. Now is not the time.”
“You don’t want me to do anything for you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The only thing I want you to give me is not mine to claim. Only the man you choose to marry has such a right.”
Alice withdrew her hand. Harry’s words were clear enough. He was prepared to take their sexual relationship only so far. Anything that would compel him into making an offer of marriage to her was not a part of those plans.
He did say we might be a part of each other’s lives for a time. He didn’t say forever.
“Would you please take me home?” she asked.
She chided herself for being foolish enough to allow her growing crush on him to whisper promises of a future—the only solace being that Harry at least had the good sense to know where to draw the line.
If he had asked ‘May I?’ I might have said yes. Thank god he didn’t.
To a man like Harry, Miss Alice North was likely nothing more than just another interesting diversion—one of many in his colorful, scandalous world.
The sooner they had the matter of Cuthbert Saint sorted, the quicker she could conclude her contract with Lord Harry Steele and be out of his life. He would go on to his next client, and she would be left to tend to her wounded heart.
Foolish girl. Perhaps you are better off in your cage.
CHAPTER 13
“WHERE DID you get to last evening?” asked George.
Harry gave a disinterested shrug. “Out and about.” He wasn’t going to make mention of Alice or their visit to the Temple of Diana. Fortunately, the club was one with strict rules regarding discretion. Names were never spoken outside of its walls. Many of Harry’s former clients were members, and he knew enough dirty secrets about them to be confident that his visit would not be mentioned by anyone.
They were waiting at the RR Coaching Company offices for Stephen and Monsale to arrive with news of Cuthbert Saint. Harry’s mood was dark. The three cups of black tea—no lemon, no milk, no honey—which he had already downed this morning had done nothing to lighten his spirits.
Perhaps I should have begun the morning with whisky. Start as you mean to go on.
George frowned at him. If anyone could read people as well as Harry, it was the master thief. “You are certainly Lord Misery Guts this morning. Maybe I don’t want to know where you went last night.”
“It’s not that. Things in this case have become a little complicated. And then there is the question of Milton,” replied Harry.
“The piglet? What’s wrong with him?”
“Papa’s breeding manager sent word that he needs Milton in the country,” he replied.
All his life, even after he and his father had fallen out, Harry had taken care of the youngest male breeding pigs for the Steele family estate. From the time the piglets were weaned off their mother, to the time they were put to stud, they were Harry’s to care for and feed.
George sighed. This wasn’t the first time any of Harry’s friends had been forced to give him sympathy over a curly tailed piglet. “You do know he is going off to the country to live a life that few humans, let alone animals, ever get to enjoy? Eating, sleeping, and fucking. Where do I sign up?”
Talk of Milton kept the subject of Alice North at bay; she was the real reason for his melancholy mood. Last night had been magical. The expression of joy on her face as he’d brought her to completion had gone straight to his heart.
And then she’d cried out his name. Harry. A man would have to be made of stone not to fall in love with a woman right at that moment.
But you were already in danger of falling. Holding her just tipped you over.
Any thought of not getting involved with Alice North had long ago gone up in flames. He wanted her, body and soul.
The only thing which had held him back last night and stopped him from asking ‘May I?’ was that he’d known to his bones that she would have said yes. And he would not have been able to resist.
Saving Patience North from one imprudent marriage while luring her sister into another would defy all the laws of irony and logic.
If she is to be yours, you have to offer her everything. And that includes the truth.
The thought of telling Alice about the RR Coaching Company and its dubious business enterprises made Harry’s mouth go dry. Coming from new money, she must already know what it was like to be treated as someone less than equal by London high society. What was the chance that she would choose him if she knew that being a part of his life would mean accepting that her husband was regularly involved in shady and downright illegal dealings?
Would she take that risk, knowing that if things ever went awry, her reputation would be destroyed?
The thunder of boots on wooden stairs heralded the arrival of Sir Stephen Moore and The Duke of Monsale. Harry was grateful for the interruption. The question of Alice and any possible future with her had kept him awake all through the night.
“Ah, just the man we want,” said Monsale.
Harry moved away from where he and George had both been toasting their asses in front of the fire. After the long chilly walk up from the River Thames, a few minutes of buttock warming was always in order at this time of the year.
“We have news,” announced Stephen.
Monsale tossed a leather pouch onto the long wooden table, before heading over to the nearby sideboard on which a platter of various meats and some cold roast potatoes sat. Stephen followed him, grabbing two plates from off the table as he went. His gaze went to the fireside and he grinned as Harry wriggled his backside.
“Cuthbert Saint is no saint. Never went to Eton. In fact, there is no record of him anywhere. The man does not exist,” added Stephen.
“But . . .” said Monsale, with a raise of his eyebrows.
Harry’s ears pricked up. Monsale always proceeded the juicy, noteworthy bits of any investigation or scandal with that tantalizing word. He and Stephen exchanged a grin.
“What we do have is a missing valet. A chap by the name of Cuthbert Leigh who used to work for a Scottish family just across the border. Disappeared about six months ago after having helped himself to a number of valuable pieces of plate and jewelry belonging to his employer. The description of this Cuthbert matches the blackguard we have been following here in London.”
All the fragments of the picture slowly drew closer together. The man who knew how to treat champagne stains had been a valet. And they now knew the origin of the expensive trinkets Cuthbert had pawned at Jones and Son.
“Good, so we are pretty confident we have the make of him. Now I have to decide what to do about getting him away from Patience North,” said Harry.
Time was of paramount im
portance. Notwithstanding the fight that the two of them had had the previous evening, Harry suspected there was every chance that matters between Alice’s sister and Cuthbert would be back on even keel quickly. With Cuthbert’s coin becoming low, he would likely do everything he had to in order to be able to make a move with Alice’s sister.
“I need to speak with my client this morning. Inform her of these developments and get her approval to make the next move,” he said.
Monsale’s brows knitted together in a worried expression. He wasn’t one for ever asking a woman her opinion. The fact that he was still unwed at the age of one and thirty probably had something to do with his inability to sweet-talk the ladies.
“Why are you asking a prim little miss for her thoughts?” asked Monsale.
George cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh. Stephen, meanwhile, studied the platter of meats as if it held the secret to life and the universe.
“Because, your grace, she is paying me. And I actually value her opinion when it comes to her sister. She is the one who is going to have to mop up the mess after all this is over. I would prefer it if the pile of shit she has to clean is as small as possible,” replied Harry.
“Bah!” huffed Monsale.
Harry picked up the satchel and made for the stairs. If he moved quickly enough and went back to Grosvenor Street, he could track Alice down this morning. “Thank you. This gives me all that I need to move on our friend Cuthbert. I shall send word again to our people in Gretna letting them know that a possible elopement may be imminent.”
“Send word if you need help!” cried George.
As he hurried to the rear mews and summoned the stable boy to fetch his horse, Harry took the opportunity to gather his thoughts. How am I to deal with this blackguard and cause the least amount of damage?
Publicly unmasking Cuthbert could be problematic, as it could also expose Harry to scrutiny. His carefully crafted foppish personae had taken a long time to build. He wasn’t going to risk it just for the sake of expediency.
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