The Untouchable Earl

by Amy Sandas

  With another laugh, the woman set her tray on a nearby table and reached for the second gentleman, her hands sliding seductively down his chest.

  Lily and the earl passed through a doorway into a short corridor leading to the next room.

  Curiosity flashed as Lily wondered what would happen next between the pair. She had a strong urge to look over her shoulder.

  “Do not look back,” the earl muttered fiercely.

  Lily glanced up at him through the narrow slits of her mask. He stared straight ahead. His chin was set at a sharp angle, and his lips were drawn painfully thin.

  She experienced an urgent need to push him a little. To see if she might crack his hardened veneer. “Why not? I thought our purpose was to observe.”

  They entered the next room. This one was much smaller. The lighting was lower, casting everything into a burgundy haze. The result reminded Lily of the dreamlike drama inherent in baroque paintings.

  A solo violinist played in a corner while various spectators gathered around a sofa across the room. Lily caught only glimpses of what they were watching. She saw a lady in a silk-threaded gown and a mask held in a gentleman’s passionate embrace. Then the flash of her bare leg as the lady’s skirts were raised.

  She heard the low moans and quiet gasps of the two lovers and the murmurs of those who watched.

  As Lily and the earl continued past the scene, she angled her head, trying to see the couple on the sofa better through the shifting crowd. The whole tableau amazed her.

  Not the nature of the act they performed—she had read of its description many times—but at the lack of care the couple exhibited for the fact that a small audience had gathered around them.

  “Observe. Not watch,” the earl stated beside her as he continued to lead her through the room.

  A thrill ran through her center. “Is there a difference?”

  “Quite.”

  She considered the crowd of people watching the couple as though they were players on a stage. It was obvious that they were deriving a certain pleasure from watching the scene.

  In truth, the sight of the almost frantic coupling did speed up Lily’s pulse and brought a fine sheen of heightened awareness to the nerves running through her body. But it also made her want to escape with the earl to a place more secluded.

  She glanced away from the couple to see that he was looking down at her. His eyes were dark and entirely unreadable. She forgot all about the couple and their friends. Her attention became engrossed in the fine tension of the earl’s features. She was disappointed when he redirected his gaze forward to navigate their passage through another doorway.

  “Does this make you nervous, my lord?” she asked, sensing his reaction was about more than simply protecting her innocent eyes from illicit scenes of debauchery.

  “Infinitely,” came his stark reply.

  “Then why did you agree to escort me?”

  “It is what you wanted.”

  His simple answer made her stomach tighten. “I only thought that having an opportunity to view such things might assist me in my role as your mistress. I wish to learn.”

  He glanced down at her again, his eyes sharp. Penetrating.

  “I will be the one to teach you, Lily. Not these men and women, strangers who have no place between us.”

  The next room was even darker than the last—so dark, it took a moment for Lily’s eyes to adjust. When they did, she began to see various forms around her. Men and women of all shapes and sizes grouped in twos, threes, or more. Another violinist played in the corner, but the music was not enough to cover the gasps from those occupying the space.

  “Bloody hell,” the earl growled beside her before he slipped his arm around her waist to rush her through the room. Once in the corridor beyond, with the door secured behind them, he stopped and released her, stepping back to put as much space between them as possible in the narrow hall.

  Lily stood facing him, her breath unnaturally shallow as she considered what she had seen. So many bodies. Such a lack of discretion. Sex in its most primal, physical form.

  “It would seem it was not too early for an orgy after all,” Lily whispered.

  Several beats of silence followed her words.

  “I should never have agreed to this.”

  “I am glad you did,” she replied, still feeling the aftereffects of such blatant carnality in the pounding of her heart. Though it had been dark, and the images had been more impressions than actual details, there was no denying the raw sexual energy contained in that room. “I acquired a new understanding I had not expected.”

  “What do you understand, Lily?” His tone was deeply reserved, as though he held back everything he was thinking to keep it from being revealed in his voice.

  Lily deliberately did the opposite.

  “There is a distinct difference between acts of the nature we just witnessed and what I experienced with you the other night.”

  “What difference?” he asked when she paused.

  The strain in his voice reached into her center. Lily thought about how to put into words something that was more an instinctive sense than specific knowledge.

  “It seems to me that the people we observed through those rooms were intent upon their pleasure for the sake of pleasure itself. I almost wonder if it would have mattered a great deal with whom they engaged in such acts. I imagine the anonymity itself adds to the excitement of it.”

  “That is likely true,” he replied.

  The heat beneath Lily’s skin deepened. It was strange how much easier it was to discuss such things when it was about someone else. Speaking of her desire was still so challenging.

  But she was a mistress now. She needed to practice her boldness.

  “What happened between us…” she began again with a bit more hesitation, not because she was uncertain of what she wanted to say, but because she wanted to be sure she was explaining herself properly, “was quite the opposite, I think. For me, anyway,” she added with a sigh.

  “How do you mean?” he prompted stiffly when she did not continue right away.

  Lily tried to meet his eyes in the darkness of the closed corridor. She was disappointed to find the shadows went too deep.

  “I could not imagine feeling the kind of pleasure I experienced from your touch if it had been with anyone but you, my lord.”

  “Why do you think that is?” he asked, and Lily could hear a shift in his tone, though she was not sure what it indicated.

  She thought for a moment before she answered, trying to understand the truth of it herself. “When I am with you, I feel safe. Safe to express myself in a way I have never had the courage to do before. I feel…like you might understand me as no one else can.”

  He did not reply, and they lapsed into silence. The only sound was of their breath and Lily’s pulse beating heavy in her ears.

  He stood so still, his hands fisting at his sides, his chin lowered. Saying nothing. Though she could not see his eyes, she could feel his focus. Observing her.

  Finally, she could bear it no longer.

  “Will you take me upstairs now?”

  * * *

  He shouldn’t.

  He should take her home and try to forget he had ever agreed to become her lover.

  He was certain he would never be able to get out of his head the breathless sound of her voice when she had asked him to take her upstairs.

  He could not possibly fathom all of the thoughts that must be going through her mind after what she’d observed. They had just traversed through one of the wickedest, most dissipated scenes she was ever likely to encounter.

  He was still affected by it. Of course, he had been viewing everything as he imagined she would see it—through the eyes of an innocent.

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he led her th
rough the servant hallways to the back stairs. Her head was bowed as she kept pace beside him. Fiery sensations danced over his arm where she rested her hand, and only the stiff rhythm of his stride kept her from brushing against his shoulder with each step.

  He was wound so tight, that slight contact would be more than he could tolerate.

  When they reached the private suite on the third floor, she strode ahead of him into the room.

  He turned the key in the lock to ensure that there would be no interruptions from guests wandering too far from the party.

  Then he watched with tension in every inch of his body as she pushed back the hood of her cloak and loosened the ties beneath her chin. Removing the encompassing outer garment, she draped it over the back of the settee before reaching up to untie her mask. Her manner was unhurried, though he noted a trembling in her hands.

  Her calm composure was as much a facade as his aloof demeanor.

  He was discovering a complexity to her nature that had not been evident in their earliest interactions. She was far more than she appeared to be: reserved, yet fearless in a way he could not have anticipated. Modest and sensual at once. In possession of a quiet confidence that was layered within everything she did.

  Admiration flowed through him, followed quickly by a dose of doubt.

  Things had not ended well at their last encounter.

  Getting swept away in her response had been…astounding—and far more potent than he had anticipated. His desire had overwhelmed him, and he had forgotten himself.

  He could still see the astonishment in her face when he had abruptly pulled away, leaving her bereft and unfulfilled.

  It would not happen again.

  She turned in place, and their eyes met for a moment. Her smile was shy and uncertain, sending a jolt of awareness through his chest before he glanced away.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked.

  She released a shallow breath. “Yes, thank you.”

  Avenell strode toward the bottle and glasses set in wait on the side table.

  “Perhaps you would enjoy some as well, my lord.”

  Avenell hesitated in the act of pouring the bordeaux.

  Though he never consumed alcohol in public, he occasionally enjoyed a glass of wine when dining alone. Just enough to set him at ease when there was no one else about.

  He would like to feel at ease with her.

  It shocked him that he would even consider it. He had spent years learning how to maintain his self-control around others. Yet now, when he would need his self-possession more than ever, he was tempted to relax his near-constant vigilance.

  Turning back to the room, he noted that she had not moved from her spot, but stood with her hands clasped lightly at her waist. Her head was set at an almost imperceptible tilt as she waited.

  Avenell acknowledged a rush of exhilaration as he approached her with the wine.

  He passed the glass to her in a way that avoided any chance of contact with her fingers. He didn’t even have to think of the act, it was so ingrained.

  “Thank you, my lord.” Her voice was soft and melodious. She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip of the deep red wine.

  “It’s lovely,” she said, then flicked a glance toward the glass in his hand. “Won’t you try it, my lord?”

  Was that a hint of challenge in her tone?

  In that moment, his desire to share the heady wine with her was stronger than his anxiety. He lifted his glass.

  The wine was full-bodied and velvety. He should have suspected that Pendragon would stock only the best. He took a moment to savor it, knowing Lily had tasted the same flavors on her tongue. It was an intoxicating thought.

  “Shall we sit?” he asked, gesturing toward the settee.

  She blinked and glanced aside. He could see that she had not expected the suggestion, but he was determined to proceed more carefully tonight.

  “Of course,” Lily murmured politely as she lowered herself to the settee.

  Avenell took a seat beside her. The piece of furniture was small, and his knee bumped against hers as he turned a bit to face her. She did not withdraw from the contact. Neither did he.

  A gentle silence fell as Avenell took another drink of his wine. The alcohol slowly eased into his bloodstream, warming him if not actually relaxing him.

  After several minutes, she straightened her spine and turned toward him, her expression earnest.

  “I want to thank you, my lord, for your part in making sure my name has not been whispered among the gossips of town.”

  “As I’ve explained, there are strict rules governing Pendragon’s clients.”

  She made a small gesture with her hand. “Yes, but I would hazard a guess that you added your influence to the matter.”

  His chest tightened at the sight of the gratitude in her eyes. “It is a small thing.”

  “But it is not,” she argued. “It is important to me. I would hate for my recent activities—those I had no control over and those I chose willingly,” she clarified with a subtle dip of her chin, “to have an adverse effect on my sisters.”

  “You are very protective of them,” he observed.

  A smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “I would say we are all quite protective of one another. Each in our own way.”

  Avenell marveled at the kind of family she described. It was difficult to imagine.

  As though sensing his train of thought, she asked, “Have you any family you worry about, my lord?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes widened. “None at all?”

  “I suppose there may be some distant cousins somewhere. I have no siblings. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father passed when I was twenty.”

  “I am sorry.”

  He shrugged off her sympathy. “I no longer mourn for them.” He paused, then continued, “I understand you lost your father recently?”

  She dropped her gaze to her lap as she replied, “Yes. He died unexpectedly from a weak heart.” She sighed. “Life had been challenging for him—for all of us—after my mother passed away from illness several years ago. I like to think my father has finally found some peace.”

  “Do you do that often?” he asked quietly.

  “What?” She brought her gaze back up to his. Her expression was open and unguarded, though shadows remained in the gray of her eyes.

  “Seek the good in tragic situations?”

  She smiled. “I am afraid so. My sister Portia teases me dreadfully for my optimism. But I cannot see a reason to dwell on the things we cannot change. It is better, I think, to find the reasons to continue on with hope.”

  “Though you lost your parents, I suppose it helps to have your sisters,” he observed.

  She gave him a rueful smile. “When I was young, I used to wonder what life would be like if I had been born an only child. It is easy to fade away between my sisters. They each have such strong personalities. One so confident and self-assured. The other bold and fiercely independent.”

  Avenell heard the pride in her voice as she spoke of her family, but he also detected something she worked hard at concealing.

  Dissatisfaction.

  “You said you used to wonder. You don’t anymore?”

  A gentle shrug, a brief downward glance. “I suppose I have come to understand myself better as I have gotten older. I do not truly crave outward attention. It was only in juxtaposition to my sisters that I felt lacking. I discovered ways to find contentment in other things.” She smiled. “I am very grateful for the life I have.”

  “Yet you risk your reputation and your position in society to continue our intimate association,” he noted in a low murmur.

  Her eyes darkened. “I do.”

  He stared back at her, his muscles tense and his chest tight with the awareness
of how much she risked in being there with him in the private suite of a brothel.

  “My lord,” she began softly, “I can see that you do not understand my motivation, and I suppose it must have been a shock when I…propositioned you the way I did.”

  She glanced down at the wineglass in her hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. But after a moment, she lifted her gaze again.

  “Considering the nature of our…relationship, I feel I must confess something rather personal.” She paused before she leaned slightly toward him. “I am not so innocent as most ladies my age. I have read novels in which love and passion are explained in explicit detail.”

  “Do you mean erotic novels?” he asked in surprise.

  His question brought another wave of pink to her cheeks, and her eyelashes fluttered as though she would glance away, but she resisted and held his gaze as she nodded.

  It certainly explained how she was able to take in the scenes below with the amount of poise she had displayed. This woman stunned him in so many ways.

  “I know I shouldn’t admit to it, my lord, but you have asked me to be honest with you. The truth is that I have long been…curious about the more passionate aspects of human existence. I do not want to live my entire life huddled beneath my bedcovers, imagining what desire must feel like. I want to experience it. I do experience it with you.”

  Her words stole his breath.

  “From the first moment I saw you, my lord, I felt something ignite inside me. Something powerful. It is important to me that you know I would never have considered becoming the mistress of anyone but you.”

  Avenell’s heart stopped.

  He knew he should say something to help put her at ease, but he found his chest too tight to form words, his brain incapable of an appropriate reply. Finally, he cleared his throat and managed a rough, “I am honored.”

  The sentiment was horridly inadequate, but it was all he could manage.

  She smiled gently. No judgment. No demand for more. Her soft gaze swept over him as he sat stiffly in the corner of the small settee.

  Heat coursed through him, but it was not the burn of too much sensation on his skin. It was the heady warmth of longing that captured him when she looked at him as she did then.