The Untouchable Earl

by Amy Sandas

  Her stomach fluttered. The thought left her more excited than wary.

  He lifted one hand from the arm of the chair and turned it palm up. “Come here.” His voice was dark and commanding.

  The physical numbness she had experienced upon waking was completely gone, leaving Lily’s senses in an acute state of awareness. She felt…everything. Warmth from the fire bathed her skin, soothing her sensitized nerves. Her fingers and toes tingled, as though she were suspended over a great open chasm. Her stomach was tight and her breath thin, but her heart beat a powerful rhythm against her ribs.

  Staring into the earl’s eyes, Lily felt a distinct sense of inevitability, as though her life had been laid out by fate long before tonight.

  With only a slight hesitation, she lowered her bare feet to the floor and stood.

  He immediately swept his gaze in a scorching path over her body, barely concealed by the shift. Her insides melted. Though she acknowledged the thread of vulnerability still present in her core, Lily was amazed to feel something else as well. There was something empowering in choosing to accept his desire. And her own.

  Lifting his eyes again to hers, he repeated, “Come to me.”

  Lily walked toward him. Each step increased the buzzing along her nerves and heightened the hum in her blood. She felt as though she were coming to life for the first time.

  She was not a tall woman, and as she came to stand before him seated in his chair, she noted with a sharp inhale that her breasts were level with his gaze. A flush spread across her cheeks, but he did not seem to take notice. His eyes were locked upon hers, his focus penetrating.

  After a long moment, he straightened in the chair and reached for her. The slow intention in his movements was riveting. Lily tensed in anticipation of the first touch of his hand on her body.

  When he carefully took the glass she had forgotten she was still holding, a heavy sigh slid from her lips.

  He set the glass on the floor before selecting an article of her clothing from the chair beside him.

  It was one of her stockings.

  She watched him pull the delicate bit of silk slowly through his fingers. Then he took one of her hands in his. The moment their fingers touched, sparks ran through her.

  He paused, as if he too felt the rush of sensation.

  Recovering after a long breath, he drew her a step closer. A flood of heat pooled low in her body. Her knees wobbled, and her fingers tightened on his hand.

  Giving no attention to her obvious moment of weakness, he released her hand and bent forward to slide his fingers around the delicate bones of her right ankle, but did not touch her anywhere else. Every movement was carefully controlled and measured. Clearly, he had a specific intent, and he was not in any hurry.

  Lily tried telling herself to relax, but every nerve was at full alert. The simple pressure of his large hand curved around her ankle created a wealth of reactions through her body.

  He encouraged her to lift her foot, and she obliged, balancing carefully.

  He slid the stocking over her toes, around her heel, then slowly up her leg, awakening her to the realization of just how sensitive the arch of her foot was and how luxurious it felt to have silk smoothed over the curve of her calf by a masculine hand. When he eased the silk higher, the brush of his fingertips tickled the skin behind her knee, sending shivers coursing through her. Finally, he drew the stocking up around her thigh and secured it with the garter.

  As he reached for the second stocking, Lily fought to rein in the light-headedness crowding her awareness. Her entire body was alive and tingling with a unique kind of heat. He kept his head bowed, and she was grateful for that, knowing if she looked into his eyes, she would likely stop breathing altogether.

  This was what she had craved from the first moment she’d seen this man. The breathlessness, the hunger, the yearning to understand all of the things he made her feel with his dark gaze and intense demeanor.

  She had crossed a threshold in allowing him the liberties of touching her in such a way. No gentleman would dare to force such intimacies upon an innocent debutante, but he would dare that and more with his mistress.

  The acknowledgment of her new circumstance, the untold delights she was likely to experience under the direction of the enigmatic man before her, sent another surge of heat through her body.

  By the time he finished easing the second stocking up to her thigh, she was convinced he had magic in his hands. Delicate impressions danced along her nerves, tightening her belly. She could hear the slow and heavy rhythm of his breath moving in and out.

  Without speaking, he took both of her wrists, his fingers pressing against her fluttering pulse. He pinned her hands against her thighs. Then he leaned forward.

  The warmth of his breath heated her skin a second before he pressed his lips to the inner curve of one breast. It was a brief kiss. The shift kept his lips from touching her bare skin, but within that moment, Lily felt more than just the pressure of his mouth on her body. There was the rough texture of his jaw brushing across the soft cotton. The point of his high, starched collar pressed into her belly, and his fingertips tightened over the pulse in her wrists, assuring that she did not move.

  Lily bit down hard on her lower lip. Her insides erupted. She felt hot and jittery and aching all at once.

  From a kiss. A simple, brief press of his mouth.

  He drew back and reached for her stays.

  “Turn around.” His voice was rough and low.

  Lily did as he directed, turning to stare across the room at the bed she had recently vacated.

  He rose to his feet behind her and brought the stiff garment around her body. The corset pressed flat to her abdomen and fitted beneath the heavy weight of her breasts, lifting them. Lily brought her hands up to hold the stays in place as he swept the length of her hair over her shoulder, then began tightening the laces down her back. His warm and even breath swept across the back of her neck, sending delightful shivers down her spine, making her ache for the press of his mouth at her nape.

  But he kept his focus on the mundane but intimate task, while the stays tightened around her like a piece of feminine armor and her breath grew shallower with every exhale.

  It was then Lily finally realized something that should have occurred to her much sooner: he was not going to claim her virtue tonight.

  Keen disappointment stabbed through her. Having made the unbelievable decision to become his lover, she was quite ready for it to begin. More so now that he had teased her body with the tantalizing caress of his fingertips and the single fleeting press of his lips.

  Agitation and confusion gripped her. Had she misunderstood something?

  After securing her stays, he assisted with her petticoat and then her gown. When he finished fastening her dress, he turned his attention to her hair, securing the thick tresses at her nape with a length of ribbon he removed from the trim of her gown, allowing her hair to fall down the center of her back to her hips.

  The gentle but insistent direction of his hands at her shoulders turned her back around to face him. She tried to discern his intention by the expression on his face, but she caught only a glimpse of a severely drawn mouth and heavy brow before he lowered himself to one knee before her. Lifting first one foot then the other, he placed her shoes on her feet.

  There was tenderness in his touch, but more than that, she detected a strained edginess to his actions. A hint of conflict in his manner that made her anxious.

  “My lord…” she began, hearing the uncertainty in her tone and wishing she could have disguised it. “I thought…”

  He rose to his full height and finally met her cautious gaze.

  Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “You have chosen to give yourself to me, Miss Chadwick.” The words were low and clear. “I do not take it lightly, this
gift you’ve bestowed. But as I said, it will take far more than one night to make you mine.”

  Lily released her breath on a soft sigh.

  Something flickered in his impenetrable stare, and he added in a murmur, “There will be no going back.”

  The sentiment echoed her own from earlier, and Lily experienced a sense of rightness in that moment that overcame any lingering question or concern. They would be lovers.

  As they stood facing each other in silence, barely an inch separating them yet not touching at all, she wanted so badly to lift her hand and press it to the side of his face. She wanted to feel the hard angle of his jaw against her palm and the roughness of his skin where the shadowed start of a beard darkened his cheeks.

  Something held her back.

  She touched him with her studied gaze instead, observing the harsh lines of his face as a frown hardened his visage. She slid her attention briefly to the pulse beating at his temple, then across his oppressive eyebrows, down the slope of his strong nose. His mouth was pressed into a stern, unforgiving line, but it could not disguise the elegant upper arches or the generous lower curve of his bottom lip.

  His mouth was beautiful, she thought.

  Lifting her gaze again to meet his eyes, she was struck by the raw need she saw there. The fierce and weighted denial.

  “It is time to take you home,” he said. His voice was gruff and deep.

  Lily did not move. She focused on trying to analyze her conflicting emotions. She was frightened and exhilarated. Calm yet restless. And deep down, beneath all the rest, was a sense of self-assurance she had never before experienced.

  “If it had not been me at the brothel tonight, but another woman, would you have bid on her?”

  The small muscles at the corners of his jaw flexed and bunched.

  “I do not know,” he murmured thickly.

  “I am glad you were there.”

  A shadow crossed his expression while a flicker of something unnameable ignited in his gaze. “You may yet change your mind on that, Miss Chadwick.”

  Ten

  The earl brought her home in a nondescript carriage displaying no livery to give away his identity. He did not live far away, and they made the short trip in silence. Dawn had arrived, but it was a quiet, slow dawn, and the city still hovered in that long breath before action. The atmosphere was pregnant with the anticipation of things yet to come.

  Seated across from him, Lily could not keep herself from studying his face. He looked cold and hostile. But some instinct already knew it to be a facade. A wealth of rich emotion seethed beneath his stony surface.

  He watched her as well.

  Typically, Lily would be supremely uncomfortable under such an intense regard. But with him, she didn’t mind the vulnerability he incited. She wanted him to see her.

  When the carriage reached its destination, he leaned forward to offer her a hand from the vehicle but did not descend, remaining instead within the anonymous interior.

  “I will send word,” he said.

  That was all.

  Lily looked at him for a moment, then gave a nod before turning away.

  Lily did not glance back as she made her way to Angelique’s front door—not even when she heard his carriage roll away after she stepped inside. There were further challenges to face before this night came to an end, and she needed to train her focus forward.

  Everything inside was quiet but not fully darkened. A dim light burned in the entrance hall, and a glow spilled out from the parlor.

  Guilt washed through her at the thought of how worried her family must be. She had no idea what she would say to them. Something as close to the truth as possible seemed the best course. Lily had never been much of a liar—there had rarely been cause in her life to practice the skill—but she had no intention of disclosing the arrangement she had entered into with Lord Harte.

  Stepping into the parlor doorway, Lily noted with a mix of relief and anxiety that everyone was present. Angelique sat in her favorite chair while Portia and Emma sat close together on the sofa, deep in debate. Emma was still dressed in the revealing turquoise gown she had worn to Bentley’s club. The visceral tension in the room crushed Lily with remorse.

  “Lily!” Portia shouted, having noticed her in the doorway. The girl leapt to her feet and rushed forward to enfold Lily in a fierce hug.

  Lily closed her eyes for a moment as she allowed herself to feel the welcoming comfort of being back with her family. Though her night had ended in a way she never could have anticipated, it did not change how close Lily had come to a terrifying fate. She still did not fully understand what her future would hold, but her decision to enter into an illicit relationship with the earl had at least brought her home.

  Pulling back from Portia, Lily looked to Emma, who had also risen to her feet and was intently scanning Lily for signs of injury or distress.

  “Tell me you are unhurt,” Emma demanded tightly, seeking confirmation in Lily’s eyes.

  Lily detected the thickness of tears in her sister’s tone and smiled in an attempt to ease her worry.

  “I am fine, Emma.”

  “Thank God,” Emma breathed as she closed the distance between them and took Lily into her arms.

  She held Lily tight for several breaths. Lily could feel Emma’s fear in that embrace. She closed her eyes, hoping her decision to accept Lord Harte’s offer would not bring more distress to this sister who already shouldered so many burdens.

  Emma released her and drew back, her sharp, assessing gaze intent upon her face. Lily smiled to assure Emma all was well. But after a moment, her sister’s stare began to feel too shrewd, and she glanced aside.

  “Come sit, ma petite,” Angelique called out almost joyfully. “Have some tea. It may still be warm.”

  Grateful for the shift in focus, Lily removed her cloak. Portia tugged at her hand, drawing her down on the sofa. Within moments, she had a warm cup of tea in her hand and realized she still had no idea what she would tell her family.

  After taking a bracing sip of tea, she looked up to see three pairs of eyes studying her intently. It was far too much to hope that they might accept her return without an explanation. She would have to think of something fast.

  “Tell us what happened, Lily,” Portia insisted as she grasped Lily’s hand in both of hers, practically bouncing on the cushions next to her. “You must. I have been frantic with worry all night and cannot wait another moment to learn how you managed to get home.”

  “Give her a few more moments, Portia,” Emma interjected. “She has likely been through quite an ordeal. We can be patient.”

  Portia slumped back into the sofa with a gentle huff. “Maybe you can.”

  Emma took a seat across from them, and Lily carefully kept her gaze averted, worried that Emma may see the anxiety that still rippled beneath the surface.

  Just as everyone was finally settled, Angelique rose to her feet. “I am off to bed, darlings.”

  “How can you leave now?” Portia argued. “We are finally going to learn what happened to Lily.”

  “When you have had as many adventures as I have, one becomes much like the last. You girls catch up. I need my beauty rest. Bonsoir.”

  “I will walk you up.” Emma stood to follow their great-aunt, but the lady waved her off.

  “Non, you stay—I shall find my bedroom. I assume it is where I left it this morning.”

  While Angelique made her way from the room, Lily took a few more sips of tea. As the warmth from the brew spread through her system, she felt a rush of confidence. She had made it through some undeniably harrowing experiences over the last several hours—surely she could make it through this conversation.

  “Now, let us get to it, shall we?” Portia insisted as she leaned forward expectantly. “What in bloody hell happened? How did you escape the brothel?”<
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  “How do you know about that?” Lily asked in shock.

  Portia’s expression was just a touch smug. “Angelique and I have been on a mission to find you all night.”

  “You have?” Lily had not expected that. A flash of panic ignited. If they already knew about the brothel, what else had they discovered? Did they know of Lord Harte?

  “Of course, did you think I would just watch you get carried away and not do anything to save you?” Portia’s eyes shone as she explained her part in the night’s adventure. “It so happens Angelique knows of this mysterious man in the East End they call Nightshade. We hired him to help us. He tracked down Hale and learned the despicable monster had you auctioned off at a brothel. But he lost you after that. Nightshade is even now still trying to learn what happened to you—”

  “You have to stop him,” Lily interrupted. The more people who knew where she had ended up, the more likely a scandal would erupt. No one else could know she had been won in an auction by the Earl of Harte and then taken to his home—especially not her sisters.

  The path she was on was hers alone to traverse. They would not understand what had provoked her to the decision she had made in the earl’s bedroom. Portia might perhaps, but she would demand information. Lily’s desire to become the earl’s lover was an intimate and personal one. It was hers alone, and she wished to keep it that way.

  “What? Why?” Portia argued, her eyes wide and stunned.

  Even Emma seemed concerned by Lily’s sudden declaration. “Are you certain you are unharmed, Lily?”

  “I cannot say I wasn’t frightened. I was, terribly so.” Lily had to come up with a reasonable explanation and quickly. She reminded herself that the best lies contained mostly truth. “There was a woman at the brothel. I thought maybe she would help me. Instead, she gave me something to drink that made me feel quite strange.”

  She paused. Details of that time frame were still unclear.

  “I do not know much of what followed. It is all muddled and foggy in my head. I remember a room…with men. Laughter and talking. It wasn’t until later, after the drug started to wear off, that I learned what had happened.”