“Oh.” Was that why he had been so cross—like a little boy who has been given a shilling and finds the sweets shops are all closed? Because he had wanted her and he believed she was out of his reach.
Aphrodite was twisting a gold mesh bangle upon her slim wrist. “So, do you think you can persuade his lordship to say yes?”
“I am not sure,” Marietta said pensively. She took a breath. “I beg your pardon, Aphrodite, but even if he does want my body, I cannot believe he would agree to play such a role.”
Aphrodite chuckled. “He is hurt and you are caring for him. Max is a gentleman and he will feel he owes you a favor, Marietta. Make use of that. And as for him not agreeing to play such a part…Doesn’t that make it an even greater test of your skills? It will be a challenge, and I think that is what you need. I want you to show me you are serious in your endeavor.”
“But—”
Aphrodite grew formidable. “No buts, listen to me now. In this game there will be rules you must abide by and there will be tasks you must accomplish. I will set you a task, and when you have completed it, then I will set you another, and so it will go. When the game is over, if you have completed all your tasks to my satisfaction, without breaking the rules, then I promise that I will help you in whatever way you wish.”
The thought of Aphrodite’s unconditional help made her giddy. But Marietta was a practical girl, and she asked, “What will my first task be?”
“Ah, he must kiss you—”
“But that is simple!”
“Yes, but you must ask him to show you how to kiss.”
Marietta’s cheeks flushed pink. There was something very risqué in such an idea, and yet she said, “I know how to kiss. Gerard kissed me.”
“Psht! Who was this Gerard? He was a nobody. Max Valland is a duke’s son, Marietta, who has been on the town for many years and has had a great many women. Believe me, he knows how to kiss.”
Marietta found that she had to actually take a deep breath, in order to think clearly. “When you say that Max and I will have a temporary affair, do you mean we will…do you mean it will be physical?”
Aphrodite looked at her carefully. “It will be whatever you wish, Marietta. Do not frighten yourself yet with what may or may not happen. Let things develop and wait and see, oui? Each affair has its own pace, its own beginning and its own end. First you must get Max to agree, and that may well prove the most difficult part of all.”
But if what Aphrodite said was true, and Max desired her body, then surely that would be to her advantage? His wanting her would help her to win him over. Therefore it would not be as difficult as she feared, and Aphrodite would have to keep her promise.
“Very well,” she said quickly. “I will do it.”
“Then it is a bargain.”
“Thank you for—”
But Aphrodite motioned her to silence, and her voice was brisk once more. “We will talk about it again. I will make sure that Vivianna knows you are staying tonight. Remember to ask Dobson or the servants if there is anything you need. The club will be open and busy until dawn, so do not fear you are disturbing them.”
“Thank you.”
Aphrodite left, and Marietta slipped back inside the bedroom with Max. She stood close to the bed, so that she could look down at him. Suddenly this stranger had taken on a new and fascinating appeal. He was going to help her attain her wishes—somehow she must persuade him to agree, whether he wanted to or not.
Max lay very still beneath the bedclothes. Dobson had stripped him of his clothing after he sent Marietta from the room, and Marietta didn’t know whether he was completely naked or not, but she could see his bare shoulders and throat. Smooth skin curved over the muscles of his upper arms, and his throat was broad and strong, while on his chest, just before the bedclothes cut off her view, there were some wisps of dark hair.
She barely remembered Gerard Jones without his clothes on and what she did remember made her shudder. There had been a great deal of haste; perhaps Gerard had realized Marietta was having serious doubts and might balk at the final hurdle. Had she enjoyed it? No, she hadn’t. She had lost her virginity and her reputation for very little, really. If a girl was ruined, then shouldn’t she at least savor it?
Marietta hovered over Max. The doctor had done a good job when he sewed the wound and bandaged it, and apart from some of the blood that still matted strands of his hair, Max looked clean and comfortable. His whiskers were beginning to show dark against his pale skin, and when she ran her fingertip over his jaw, it felt slightly prickly and rough. Is this what she would do, if she really was a courtesan out to seduce him? Touch him like this?
It was surprisingly easy—a tremble of excitement started deep in her belly, spreading outwards. Her fingers seemed to move of their own accord, exploring the firm flesh of his chin and jaw, running very lightly over his thin upper lip and the more sensual lower one. She immediately imagined those lips on hers. She touched his eyelids, gently, and brushed her fingertips through the thick curls of his hair. Yes, seducing Max Valland would be an enjoyable experience. But…
With a sigh she drew her hand away.
But that was because Max was asleep and could not frown at her or give her one of his haughty ducal looks. Things would be totally different when he was awake and himself again.
If, that is, he ever was.
Marietta sobered abruptly. This was neither the time nor the place to play at being a courtesan. Max was hurt, and despite the doctor’s optimism, may be seriously so. And she was his nurse. Tempting as it was, it would not be fair to take advantage of him in his unconscious state.
Marietta sank back into her chair and prepared to keep vigil.
Aphrodite was readying herself to go to Berkley Square, a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth as she remembered her conversation with her second daughter. Marietta believed her task to be an easy one, but Aphrodite knew differently. Max, Lord Roseby, would put up a fight, and although in the end Marietta would probably get her way, the journey would be an interesting one.
As for Marietta, Aphrodite was not certain that she really knew just what she was asking. It was true that she had caused herself a great deal of grief by falling under the spell of the scoundrel Gerard Jones, but setting herself forever beyond her comfortable and familiar world might not be the best answer. Lady Greentree would be saddened and disappointed when she discovered Marietta’s ambitions—as liberal as that lady was, Aphrodite could not imagine her applauding her daughter’s choice of profession. Still, if Marietta truly wanted to be a courtesan, then what could Aphrodite do but help her to achieve her aim?
Aphrodite smiled again and tapped her finger against her cheek. Well, she could see that Marietta found such a life not to her taste after all. There were alternatives to saying no, which had been Aphrodite’s first response, and as she was very much aware that Marietta was not a girl to give up easily, she had not wanted her daughter to feel desperate. Who knew what she might do, if she were pushed into a corner? Better if she believed that Aphrodite was helping her, as she was, just not in the manner Marietta was expecting.
“What amuses you?”
“My daughter, Jemmy. She’s very clever, don’t you think?”
“She’s a minx, my love.”
Aphrodite brushed his rough cheek with her fingertip. “I was a minx, too, and it did not harm me.”
“It caused us both a lot of grief.”
Her breath caught. “Oh Jemmy, I wish—”
But Jemmy Dobson hushed her and took her in his arms. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories. Go and see your grandson. I’ll watch the club for you, and keep an eye on your minx of a daughter.”
Aphrodite buried her face in his coat. “She wants to be a courtesan,” she sighed.
Dobson chuckled in surprise. “Does she now? Well, she’s your daughter, isn’t she? She’ll follow her own head and her own heart. Just keep her out of too much trouble, my love, and all will be well.
It was with Vivianna.”
“Yes, you’re right. Vivianna turned out well.” Aphrodite nodded, and drew away to put the finishing touches to her outfit. “There, what do you think? Will I bring shame upon the house of Montegomery?”
Jemmy smiled, his hard gray eyes full of love. “You are a jewel, Aphrodite, beyond price.”
It was close to dawn when Max woke at last. Marietta, who had been dozing off and on as she kept watch from her chair, heard him murmuring, and the swish and slide of the bedclothes as he moved restlessly beneath them.
She jumped up, her legs leaden with weariness, her head dizzy, and stumbled to the side of the bed.
He was shifting about but in an aimless sort of way, as if he didn’t know where he was. Marietta put a hand on his shoulder and felt hot, bare skin. “Hush,” she said gently, leaning closer. “You’re safe, Max. You were hurt, but you’re safe now.”
The sound of her voice seemed to agitate him more and he tried to sit up. The quilt slipped to his waist, and Marietta saw that he was indeed naked. Broad chested, his tawny skin dusted with dark hair, his stomach flat and hard. She pressed her palms against his shoulders to try and push him back down again, but the feel of him, the heat of him, confused her. Even as her voice murmured reassurance, her mind was focused on something else.
For instance, that he looked and felt so completely different from her, and those differences were fascinating. He had flat aureoles, slightly darker than his chest, and when she accidentally brushed over them his nipples turned tighter and harder. She wanted to do it again. She wanted to lean down and put her mouth to his skin and see what it tasted like. The unfamiliar thoughts shocked her into the realization that once again she was allowing the courtesan to overpower the nurse.
“Please, Max. Back to bed,” she begged, as much for her own sake as his.
But she wasn’t strong enough to force Max back into the bed, and neither was he paying attention to her coaxing. Now he swung one leg over the side of the mattress, taking her by surprise. Marietta’s eyes widened as they traveled the length of that bare leg, hard with muscle. Luckily the bedclothes had tangled around his hips, otherwise Marietta would have seen far more of Max than he would want her to, she was sure. Although, she thought, as she continued to struggle with him, it wouldn’t be long before the covers were tugged free. Her gaze skittered away from the dark hair low on his belly.
“Max!” Her voice high and panicked. “Stop it right now!”
He seemed to hear her at last. He stopped pushing against her and his brown eyes opened and fixed on hers. His hair was standing on end, and he looked rumpled and flushed. And Marietta’s stomach fluttered in a way it never had before. Nerves, or was it…could it be the desire that Aphrodite was just speaking about?
“Wha’?” He blinked at her. “’Etta?”
“Yes, it’s Marietta,” she said it as if she were in charge of the situation. “Now go back to bed. You’re tired and you need your rest. You can’t possibly get up yet. Back to bed, Max, and back to sleep.”
He stared at her for a while—as though it took that long for her words to find their way down a long tunnel and into his brain—and then, abruptly, he lay down.
There was only one problem.
Max’s leg was still hanging outside the bedclothes. With a groan, Marietta wrapped her hands around his knee, struggling to lift his leg. She tugged but could barely move it. She reached down to his foot and pulled at that, but he simply arched his toes, as though they were ticklish. The sound of the bed creaking made her look up to find his brown eyes only inches from her own. Max had raised his head from the pillows, and he was clearly puzzled by her actions.
“Miss Greentree? What are you doing?” he said, surprisingly lucid.
Marietta released his foot and jumped back as if she had been bitten. “You were restless. I was trying to…to…”
“You were playing with my toes.” Giving her one of his haughtiest frowns, Max proceeded to draw his leg modestly under the bedclothes. Then his head fell back against the pillows, his eyes shut, and the frown turned into a grimace.
Tentatively Marietta reached out and pulled the covering up over his chest—removing temptation—and tucked him in securely. But he wasn’t asleep.
“Water,” he whispered.
She reached for the jug the servant had brought last night, and poured some water into a glass. She supported his head against her shoulder, aware of the heat of his skin even through her layers of clothing. She held the glass to his lips, carefully tipping a little at a time between them. Max swallowed greedily, but after a moment he seemed to have had enough, and turned his face away. Gently she lowered him back onto the pillows, and smoothed his wild curls.
The doctor would be coming this morning, and she was relieved to know it. Max was too hot, surely? A fever was to be expected, but how did she know what was acceptable and what was excessive?
“’Etta.”
“Yes, Max? What is it?” He seemed to know her, so he must be reasonably lucid. Surely that meant he was all right? If he was in danger, wouldn’t he be rambling and half-conscious?
“Blue eyes. Big sparkling blue eyes. And pink lips. Pink lips ripe for kissing.”
Well, maybe he wasn’t quite as lucid as she’d thought.
“Hush, Max. Go to sleep now. You need to get well.”
She wasn’t sure whether he heard her or not, but he sighed and in a moment he had relaxed into sleep. Marietta sat and watched him, resisting the wicked little voice in her head that told her to touch him again.
Touch.
This was the part of her future profession to which she had not given much thought. She had brushed over it, believing that the physical aspects of being a courtesan would just come to her naturally—she was Aphrodite’s daughter. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult, and it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. Still there had been a vague, niggling doubt, deep in her mind, that she may not like being touched or touching in return.
But just now, when she had touched Max, the sensation of exploring a naked man’s skin, even if it was in her role as nurse and more accidental than deliberate, had been…exciting. Was it because it was Max? Max, with whom she had no intention of becoming emotionally entangled? Max, who made her feel strangely safe? Possibly. Whatever the reason, Marietta told herself that it was a good thing. A courtesan must enjoy the physical aspect of her relationships, she must feel desire. Max could teach her that—she had a feeling he would be a very good teacher.
Max was still asleep, and when she tentatively touched him again he felt a little cooler. Marietta yawned and sat back down in her chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. She told herself that the doctor would be here soon, and wriggled around so that she could rest her cheek on her hand. That was better…In another moment she too was asleep.
Max’s head throbbed cruelly. He lay with his eyes shut, desperately trying not to be sick, until slowly, tick by tick of the mantel clock, the nausea began to pass and he could begin to remember. He had gone to Aphrodite’s Club, and after being inside had left and walked into the lane. He had closed his eyes for some inexplicable reason. He recalled the damp darkness, the sense that he was not alone, just before he was struck down.
Judging by the brutal pain in his head, his assailant had meant business. It felt personal, but Max supposed that was unlikely. He looked like a rich gentleman, and that was enough for some people to take exception to him.
A flash of image. Max concentrated and in his mind saw big blue eyes peering into his. Marietta Greentree? Yes, she had been here in the night. Now he recalled her hands, cool against his chest, and her voice, a balm for all his aches and pains. Or was it just a dream, after all? Had she really been playing with his foot?
Max opened his eyes.
Marietta Greentree was curled up in an armchair, her red and green skirts spread modestly about her. She was resting her flushed cheek on her folded hand, loose strands of fair hair falli
ng forward over her face. She looked helpless and innocent.
And yet this was Aphrodite’s daughter. Max started to shake his head in disbelief, only to stop abruptly when the movement caused a pain to slice through his temples. The throbbing began again. Abominably.
He groaned aloud.
Marietta lifted her head slightly. She peered at him through the tangled strands of her fair hair, as if she was disoriented. Then she pushed it out of her eyes and sat up, stretching and yawning widely. Like a kitten after a refreshing nap, or an innocent with nothing to disturb its conscience. That was how he saw Marietta Greentree, Max realized uneasily. Innocent and needing his gentlemanly protection. He was certainly finding it difficult to imagine her as the daughter of an infamous courtesan.
He’d been staring at her for too long. Those big blue eyes were gazing back at him, a growing expression of uneasiness in their depths.
“My head hurts,” he said pitifully, and it was the honest truth.
“Poor you,” Marietta murmured sympathetically. She laid her hand upon his brow, and there was something so soothing in her touch that it instantly felt better. Or perhaps it was the scent of her skin and the curved swell of her breasts beneath her tight bodice that improved his mood.
“Do you remember what happened?” She was speaking to him again and he tried to concentrate, but before he had a chance to answer she was doing it for him. “You were attacked in a lane, and one of the errand boys found you. Dobson brought you back here to Aphrodite’s Club, and sent for the doctor, who stitched your wound and bandaged it. He promised to call again this morning and see how you are feeling.”
She seemed to read his next question in his eyes, so he didn’t even bother trying to ask it.
“The doctor thought that moving you might make you more unwell, and it was better for you to stay here overnight.”
“So you stayed too?” His voice was husky from disuse.
“Someone had to keep watch over you. I was the obvious choice.”
Rules of Passion Page 7