Panic tightened the invisible noose about his neck until Griff could barely squeeze the words out. “I’m afraid—”
His mother put her hand up as though to stop the words he would speak. “I shall not take no for an answer, John Englebert Griffin. I shall expect you promptly at eight tonight.” His mother strode over to the still frozen Jo, engulfed her in another hug, and then sailed from the room, leaving the three of them standing in stunned silence.
Piers broke the silence first. “Well, that is rather annoying. Apparently I was not included in that invitation.” He then sniffed in affront before he stepped over to the scotch decanter and poured himself a drink.
Jo looked at Griff in utter horror. “What just happened?”
He sighed and dropped into his desk chair. “My mother happened.”
His new fiancée drew a breath, and then stormed over to his desk where she leaned over it and glared at him. “I believe you just told your mother you were engaged to your mistress. To me.”
She all but yelled the last part as Piers sputtered and coughed on his drink. “You did what?”
Ignoring his little brother, she carried on, having finally gotten the steam flowing again. “And now we will have to dine with her and continue to lie to her, because you failed to come up with some other contrivance to allay the confusion without telling her I warm your bed. This is an utter disaster!”
Griff rather agreed, and he’d like to blame his mother for jumping to conclusions and his brother for adding to the confusion by his absorption with the latest gossip, but in truth the fault lay with him. He could have calmly told his mother Jo was a political acquaintance or some such and then let her slip away. But when his mother had latched on to the notion of their engagement despite the flare of panic, something deep and unexpected had warmed him to the notion. And even as the intriguing woman stood over him, fuming with indignation and outrage, he found her beautiful and alluring in the most intense fashion. It was rather startling to realize, he liked the idea of possibly marrying her. It was rather unfortunate that she was not as welcoming of the notion. But, perhaps with the need to keep their little ruse up for his mother, he could convince her otherwise? All the while, they could sort out who was trying to kill him.
A capital idea. “Now, Jo. I know this is not what we had originally planned, but I believe it will work.”
Her brows flew up toward her hairline as her face turned a bright pink. “How could you think this is a good idea? I cannot be your fiancée!” Her hand slammed down on the Cherrywood desk in punctuation of her declaration.
Not unlike a steam engine where the steam fueled the mechanism causing the pistons to fire, something else seemed to be generating Jo’s visceral reaction. “It’s not as though we’ll actually get married.”
“You won’t?”
Piers’ question had both of them turning to the interloper and yelling in unison, “Shut up!”
Griff drew a calming breath and reiterated his statement. “We need only bring my mother along for the ruse long enough to solve the mystery. Then we can split, call it irreconcilable differences, or you can blame me, whatever. Either way, we can spend all the time we need together and address the issue at hand.”
Jo stared at him for a moment and then spun away, stalking over to the fireplace where she picked up the poker and viciously stabbed at the logs.
Again, Piers leaned in to Griff and spoke out of turn. “You sure you want to marry that one? She’s got quite a temper.”
Of course his brother couldn’t do subtle, so Jo heard every word. “As I said, we will not actually marry in the long run. But if I were to do so, I would consider Miss Bellows an admirably suitable candidate. Now Piers, please remove yourself from this discussion and my study. You’ve already heard too much.”
A touch of hurt softened his brother’s eyes before he smartly bowed and departed the room.
Griff cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Why is it that nothing goes as planned in my life?”
“Perhaps it is poor planning on your part?” Jo suggested tartly as she returned to her seat on the settee.
A knock on the study door announced the arrival of Higgins with the tea cart.
“Come, Jo. Let us take tea and see if we can sort this mess out.”
She nodded. “Indeed, we need to discuss our cover story. I have learned the truth is the best course as much as is possible. Far easier to remember.”
Griff hoped that was true, because he had a pit in his stomach that had nothing to do with the constant need that burned for her in his belly.
Jo couldn’t believe she’d agreed to play his fiancée for his mother. But somehow by the end of tea, he had talked her around to the masquerade. In the end, it at least would keep her close to him should another assassin be sent in her stead. But now she had to dress for dinner, and she had very few gowns that were suitable for supping with a dowager countess, let alone one’s faux future mother-in-law. She had eyed the turquoise gown with a critical eye while Miriam bustled around her, laying out undergarments and the other necessary items.
“It will do as long as you tuck a bit of lace in the neckline.” Her maid had nodded confidently. “Besides, the blue makes your eyes stand out.”
Jo still felt dubious about any of her evening gowns being appropriate, but Griff had approved the choice heartily when he picked her up for dinner. As they entered his mother’s townhouse, Jo’s trepidation increased. But then Griff’s mother swept into the foyer to greet them with a huge smile and hugs all around. “I am very pleased that you came to dinner.”
Jo smiled, “It was a gracious invitation in light of the afternoon’s surprises.”
“Mother has always been a beacon of kindness,” Griff offered as he swept Jo’s arm into the crook of his. “Are we starting in the salon or straight for the dining room?”
“The salon, please. I have plans to tire you both with my incessant questions this evening. I simply must learn everything about our dear Miss Bellows.”
Jo’s face heated at the idea she would be the focus of the evening. She had never been one to seek out attention, always happier hiding in the shadows unobserved.
“Now Mother, don’t embarrass Jo. We will answer your questions as best we can,” Griff intervened. “But she is still to be permitted some privacy.”
“Of course, dear. I am simply beside myself with curiosity about the woman who would catch your eye after all these years.” His mother beamed as she settled onto a chair and indicated they should join her in the adjacent seats.
Jo did as bid and settled in for a long, painful visit. Honestly, she’d rather be visiting the dentist than talking about herself to anyone.
Griff shot a worried glance her way, but she retained her calm, cool exterior in hopes it would settle him a bit.
“Now, tell me where you are from?” His mother started off right to the heart of the matter.
Jo cringed and hoped for the best. Mothers were far more discerning than most marks. “I hail from London.”
“Truly? And we’ve never met before now? What part?” His mother drilled in for the details.
“Mayfair, but I lost my parents as a child and moved to the country.” Her uncle had been rich enough from his work to own a lovely estate in Bedfordshire.
“How sad. Was it a family member who took you in?”
“Indeed,” Jo offered, sticking as close to the truth as she could. The truth made the best cover story whenever possible.
“As should any good family member. It just breaks my heart when I hear of family’s turning children out.”
“Yes, it is a sad state of affairs.” Jo nodded and prayed for the dinner chimes to ring.
“Now Griff, how is it that Miss Bellows stole your heart?” His mother turned her focus on her son, much to Jo’s relief.
“Please, Mother.” Griff sounded as uncomfortable as Jo felt with what surely would have to be a purely fabricated story.
“Tell me the tale and I shall cease pestering you.” His mother’s earnestness seemed to sway him.
“Very well. We met when she came to call to discuss parliamentary issues of some mutual concern. She practically stole my breath when I saw her.” Griff stopped to offer her a conspiratorial grin. “Once we spoke for a few moments, I was quite taken with her and asked if I might call upon her. She agreed, albeit reluctantly, and one thing led to another, and here we are.”
Jo was impressed by his version of events. He’d stuck as closely to the truth as he could with few embellishments, but many omissions. It was really quite impressive.
“Well, it all sounds rather sudden,” his mother said.
And then her butler stepped into the room and rang the dinner chimes. It was a small reprieve, but one Jo was grateful for. And, as promised, the Dowager Countess stuck to pleasantries and less probing concerns through the rest of the meal.
By the time she and Griff escaped back into his carriage, she was tired but found herself in possession of far more insight to the man than was likely comfortable for anyone.
“Tell me, Griff, where did you hide the pantry key?” Jo returned to one of the Countess’s last stories about her son.
“I did in fact lose the thing, it’s just that it happened in a storm while I was flying a kite.” He stared at the floor of the carriage as his cheeks reddened enough to be visible in the passing steam-lights.
Jo snorted as it occurred to her what he’d been doing. “A Franklinite, are you?”
Griff glanced at her, clearly startled. “No, not a Franklinite. Just a curious boy who heard about an experiment and wanted to try it. The problem came when the wind ripped it from my hands.” He offered a lopsided smile that was handsome even as it offered her a glimpse of the boy he’d once been.
“Oh, poor little Griff. And I assume you lied to your mother for fear of giving her an apoplexy?” Jo couldn’t control the ridiculous feeling of sympathy for the boy who’d lost the pantry key. And her heart swelled with—no, she refused to acknowledge any such thing.
“More out of a strongly developed sense of self-preservation. My father was not one to tolerate my scientific interests. He took every opportunity to remind me that I was the son of a peer and did not need to soil my hands with work.” Griff stopped talking, a sudden tension filling the cabin of the carriage.
But then the vehicle drew to a stop and the door opened in front of The Market. “Perhaps you’d like to come inside and soil your hands another way?”
Jo couldn’t explain the need to be near him, to comfort him. But it drove her to make the offer and then sit there quietly waiting for his answer as though waiting for a bullet to fly from a steam-pistol.
He nodded and followed her from the vehicle as he ordered the carriage home for the evening.
What was she doing? While their contract was still in place, she did not have a need to play the role of mistress now that she had the new one of fiancée. And yet, despite only one night in his arms, she was curious to see if a second night would feel as magical. Or had she made it all up in her own mind?
8
In her private rooms, Jo took Griff by the hand and led him to the small settee. With a gentle concern that she could not have explained, never having possessed much of a nurturing aspect, she urged him to sit as she poured him a drink. Once he was settled, she slipped into her bedroom to change into something more enticing. Fortunately, Miriam sat dozing on the chaise by the window. With a quick nudge of her maid, they set to work morphing Jo from sweet fiancée into a wanton temptress, a role she was far more comfortable playing. Dressed in a deep red silk nightgown with small ribbons at her shoulders and on each side to keep the scrap of fabric in place while it plunged into a daring V between her breasts and down her back. The two side ties created side slits that exposed her long legs and with a few strategic tugs would bare her for Griff’s delectation. Coiffure unpinned and smoothed into a soft brown wave of hair, she dabbed a bit of carmine on her lips and nodded, confident she was ready for the man who awaited her in the next room.
The moment she stepped into the sitting room, he turned his gaze on her and time seemed to stop. Starting at the tips of her pink toes, he drew his gaze up her body, slowly absorbing the full effect of her efforts. In what she guessed was a largely unconscious gesture, he licked his lips which had her trembling with need in the blink of an eye. He continued his way north, skimming over the display of creamy flesh as her nipples pebbled against the soft material in a clear display of her desire. When he reached her face and their gazes collided, her breath caught in her lungs at the sheer need splashed across his face. Eyes dilated, jaw clenched, and a tiny pulse of vein at his temple told her all she needed to know.
“Come here, my dear.” He held his hand out in invitation.
There was no question she would cross over to him, but she chose to draw the moment out, one slow step at a time, letting anticipation build between them. Each leisurely step designed to seduce, to tantalize, she made her way toward him while his gaze dipped down to where her leg peeked from the red silk and then back to her face. “While I enjoyed dinner—much to my surprise—I still found myself waiting for this moment all evening.”
A low growl rumbled from his chest. “As did I.”
Her hand touched his, and then without a further word, he hauled her into his arms and proceeded to devour her mouth with his. A tumultuous clash of lips, and teeth, and tongues, he tasted and teased her until her head spun from lack of air. Finally, he eased to the right, dropping kisses over her cheek and down her neck. A shudder of desire ripped along her spine as his hard cock pressed against her belly, reminding her of the pleasure to come. Then, his kisses turned to nibbles and bites that had her hips grinding against him. The room, or perhaps it was her body, had grown heated with their passion, the friction of the silk almost too much against her skin, but then she felt the tug of a ribbon at her shoulder even as both his hands gripped her bottom.
A moan ripped free from her as cool air brushed her skin followed by the molten heat of his mouth on her breast. He kissed his way further south, following the sagging material until he found the plump tip of her nipple. Like the silk of her negligee, she drooped against him as he sucked on the sensitive tip.
“Griff.” She clutched at his head, her fingers digging into his hair as though she clung to a rock to survive the storm.
He moved to her other breast, latching on through the silk as his hands reached down to gather the material below. When the cooler air hit her legs she shivered a bit, but he was undeterred as he reached between her thighs to stroke and caress her slit. Gentle at first, he swept the pad of his finger over her clit once, twice, and three times. A tide of desire rose up from where he touched her, growing into a tight ball of needy hunger. Her toes curled into the Aubusson carpet as he sucked harder on her tip while sliding two fingers deep inside her cunny. With a curl of his fingers he sent pleasure spiking through her like a steam valve exploding from the buildup of pressure. She screamed his name and clung to him as her world vaporized into a steamy mist of bliss. He continued to cradle her, lapping at her breast as she gently floated back to reality and the strong circle of his arms. He lifted his mouth from her person and offered her a rakish grin full of satisfaction at having obviously turned her world inside out. Determined to undo him as thoroughly as he had her, she withdrew from his arms and peeled his coat and vest from his shoulders. Next she worked his cravat loose, and then plucked at his buttons until his shirt opened exposing his flesh to her touch. She paused to rub her hands over his well-honed torso, truly she thought the Greek god of war, Mars, would be jealous of Griff’s fine physical form. Dumping his shirt along with his other clothes, she sank to her knees before him and opened his trousers.
His erection pushed toward her, hard and long and seemingly in want of her touch. And she was happy to oblige. Like Venus, often portrayed with one breast exposed, she left her nightgown in partial disarray a
s she focused on pleasuring Griff. With warm, steady hands, she stroked his shaft from tip to root and then slipped his head into her eager mouth. The saltiness of his essence struck her palate, making her body ache for him. As she swallowed him deeper, he half groaned, half growled as he sank his fingers into her hair. She moaned around him, wanting more, needing more. As though he knew what she desired, he held her head and pushed deeper into her mouth. With her hands on his hips, her fingers dug into his flesh as he thrust shallowly again and again, giving her as much pleasure as he was taking.
Then suddenly he slipped from between her lips and pulled her to her feet. “I need to be inside you.”
Scooping her up, he carried her into the bedroom where he laid her on the bed. She pushed to sitting, but he stopped her with a shake of his head. “No, lay back.”
Sinking back down to the mattress, she watched as he finished stripping. Naked, he crawled on the bed and loomed over her, desire drawing his features taught. Hands trembling, he reached up and with the tug of a few ribbons drew her negligee aside to stare reverently at her body.
For the first time in her life she felt beautiful, honored.
With the tip of his finger he traced a line from collarbone to collarbone and then down between her breasts, causing her nipples to pucker with need. He continued his path down over her mons and along her slit and then spread her legs with a nudge of his hands. Shifting until he was between her knees, he pressed his cock to her opening and pushed deep inside her. As he sank to the base of his shaft, Jo reveled in the sensation of him filling her up. And then he shifted directions, withdrawing to the tip before plunging back in. She cried out with an ecstatic joy that both overwhelmed and comforted.
London Calling Page 7