When they entered the more open common area, she finally had to ask, “What has you so intent, Mr. Maxwell?”
The look he gave her was one of question mingled with a slight suggestion of concern. “Do they always stare in such a way?”
She cast a dismissive glance about the crowd then shrugged. “I suppose. I don’t typically bother myself with the rude habits of strangers.”
He chuckled. “Have you any idea how many men and women are both covetous and intimidated by just the sight of you passing through their midst?”
Callista met his gaze with a sardonic lift of her brow. “Of course I do. As well they should be.”
“Indeed,” he agreed with a slow smile, “the lady dragon is fearsome and sensual beyond compare.” Dipping his head closer to hers, he added, “I wonder if they see the superior intelligence and unique beauty of the woman within the awe-inspiring creature?”
Arching her brows, Callista replied, “Woman and beast are one and the same.”
He tilted his head and studied her quietly for a moment. “Are they? I am not so sure.”
They reached the cloak room, and when the attendant retrieved Callista’s heavy black garment, Maxwell took it before she could. Shaking it out, he held it up with a subtle light of challenge in his eyes.
Inexplicably, she hesitated. But only for a moment. There was no reason to resist such a gesture. She’d had men touch her in ways that went far beyond this simple act. So why did it feel so damned unsettling when she turned in place, giving him her back?
The sound of her cloak brushing the skirts of her gown told her he was stepping closer, though it would have been obvious anyway by the warmth of his body at her back and the scent of sandalwood drifting through her senses.
The weight of the velvet touched her bare shoulders first, then the gentle press of his hands smoothing the material in place. His touch was confident without being intrusive. The act was not overtly sexual in any way. In fact, it was quite platonic. Yet, for a second, she stopped breathing, wondering if he would use the opportunity to extend his caress, perhaps by sliding his hands down her arms. Or drifting a fingertip across her nape or along the outer edge of her ear. Or he could step closer—press his hard, trim body to hers.
She knew for a fact she’d fit perfectly against him like this. Her back to his chest, her buttocks lush to his groin, her head tipped back against his shoulder so his mouth could access her throat. Perfect.
When he did nothing more than adjust the fall of her hood, she glanced over her shoulder at him, not even caring if her irritation showed in her face.
His smile was slow and knowing, which caused her irritation to deepen.
So, that had been his intention. To make her physically aware of his nearness, his touch, then leave her body wanting more. It was a common ploy. She shouldn’t have fallen or it.
As he turned to retrieve his greatcoat, she took a moment to re-establish her natural grounding. To brush away any hint of sensual longing he might have inspired with his practiced torment.
“May I escort you to your carriage?” he asked, offering his arm once again.
Callista sighed. “If you must, though you should know the show of gallantry is utterly lost on me.”
When her words inspired a gentle chuckle from the man, she realized with a jolt of shock that she’d made the jaded comment specifically for that purpose. Already, she’d come to understand that he enjoyed her cynical and blunt sarcasm. And she enjoyed his rare show of amusement far too much.
Rather than wait for the carriage to come around, by silent agreement, they started walking to where the carriage was parked a couple blocks down from the theater. The silence continued during the stroll along the dark, frozen pavement. A few light, drifting snowflakes swirled about in the winter air and Callista tipped her face to watch them dance against the backdrop that was Covent Garden.
Callista loved this part of London. She loved its grittiness and danger and how it existed at the very edge of the sophisticated societies who came to the neighborhood of excitement and risk. She loved how it blurred the lines between light and dark, sin and virtue, entertainment and survival.
There was a specific sort of energy here. Filled with ambition and a soul-deep hunger. That energy had fed her for years, until she’d gained a fat enough purse to buy her own place closer to the neighborhoods of the elite patrons she’d intended to service.
“Is it possible I’m witnessing an expression of contentment?” His tone was warm and carried only a hint of the seductive undertones he’d employed earlier in the evening.
Callista allowed a smile but didn’t turn to look at him. In her current mood, she decided to be a bit magnanimous. “I suppose anything is possible.”
“I know better than to assume my company is the cause. Will you share the thoughts inspiring such enjoyment?”
Having reached her carriage, Callista stopped and turned to face him. A few snowflakes sparkled in his hair and dusted the shoulders of his greatcoat. His mouth was soft, his gaze curious. He appeared almost harmless in the winter moonlight.
But regardless of what he wanted her to believe or how she occasionally found herself feeling almost comfortable and relaxed in his presence, he was her rival and her adversary.
She smiled—a stiff curving of lips that had grown chilled in the night air. “Come now, Mr. Maxwell, we both know you’ve less interest in my thoughts than you do in my perceived heart.”
His expression didn’t change at first. He simply stood in the light falling snow, looking handsomely distinguished and utterly self-possessed as his focus moved slowly over the details of her face. She oddly got the sense he was a bit…disappointed.
Then his manner slowly changed. She felt his shifting intensity like a vibrational wave. Her breath held and her leather-gloved hands curled into fists beneath the fall of her cloak.
“Madam Pendragon, I apologize for not having made myself clear since our first meeting.” His brows lowered, shadowing his gaze, while his firm lips shaped the next words with carnal intent. “I am interested in all of you. Not only the softness of your skin or the lush heat between your thighs. I want to learn the rhythm of your heartbeat. Share in your deepest dreams and darkest pleasures. Such desires are undeniable.” He leaned toward her to add in a heavy whisper, “As is my wish to become intimately acquainted with your shrewd and beautiful mind.”
Despite the riot of sensations his words and voice and silver eyes triggered throughout her body, Callista hardened her expression and tilted her head to a condescending angle. “You don’t want much, do you?”
“Just you, madam.”
The heavy words sunk through her winter wear into her skin as light snowflakes drifted around them in the golden light of the street’s gas lamp.
“You didn’t expect it to be easy, did you?”
“Nothing worth keeping comes easily,” he said, repeating a phrase she’d used when talking of Pendragon’s.
Her stomach twisted.
It was a grave miscalculation on his part. This whole seduction was a ploy to get her off his back. She could believe he wanted her in his bed. Not many men didn’t. But he’d made a mistake in implying he had any intention of keeping her.
Without a word, she turned and stepped into her carriage unaided by Mr. Maxwell or the groom who stood waiting beside the open door. As soon the door closed and the vehicle started moving, she put the arrogant man directly from her mind.
Chapter 5
Erik stood by the window of the private sitting room on the third floor of his club. A morning snowfall had caused the roads of London to become a slushy mess. But tonight was Christmas Eve and not even poor weather or wretched road conditions would keep people from attending their many soirées and dinner parties. The steady stream of carriages passing back and forth on the street below certainly attested to that fact. It was an evening devoted to intimate gatherings of family and friends to acknowledge and celebrate the holiday.
Turning his back on the scene, he crossed the room to the fireplace, where he added a couple more logs to keep the winter chill at bay. Standing there, he watched as the flames danced higher and sent a wave of heat and light into the room. He was not used to such cold weather. Though he’d traveled a great deal in his life, he had rarely been so far to the north during the colder months.
Despite how he often felt, it appeared he wasn’t too old for new experiences after all.
As his association with Madam Pendragon had also proven.
The woman was getting to him with her jaded green eyes, armored manner, and quick, sardonic wit. Though she was obviously determined to keep him at a distance, he reveled in those moments when her guard came down. When her full lips smiled in genuine pleasure and her eyes lit from within. She was proving to be as difficult to seduce as she’d declared herself to be. Difficult but not impossible.
Because Erik had seen desire sparking in the depths of her gaze. He’d felt the barely perceptible trembling of her fingers when he took her hand in his. The attraction he experienced for the enigmatic woman was not one-sided, but she was no novice to lust and she had her reasons for resisting her desire for him.
She didn’t trust him and Erik couldn’t blame her. The life she’d lived was a hard one. To achieve the degree of success she had would have taken complete and total devotion. Not for the faint of heart.
A woman like her would not fall for a false seduction. But there had been nothing deceitful or contrived in Erik’s pursuit. He wanted her in every way. More than he’d ever wanted a woman before. There had been no lie present when he’d declared his interest in all of her. He never would have offered to seduce her if he hadn’t already known in his soul that something more was supposed to exist between them.
But he’d never convince her to give their undeniable attraction a chance to expand into something deeper and more fulfilling if she didn’t believe such even existed.
The staccato knock of his butler sounded on the door.
Erik gave a call to enter but did not turn away from the fire.
“You have a visitor, sir.”
Turning his head, Erik watched as the woman who had been occupying his every thought lately sauntered into the room. Days ago, he’d advised his butler that unless he was with a client, he would be available to her at any time of the day or night and that she should be shown to his private quarters immediately if she called.
Even so, her appearance tonight was unexpected.
As the butler bowed from the room, closing the door securely as he did so, Erik turned his back to the fire so he could watch her approach.
Damn, but the woman made an exceptional entrance. Dressed tonight in a black satin gown that bared her shoulders and lush cleavage while accenting every lovely curve of her body, she was the archetypal seductress. Sinuous and strong, deeply sensual and utterly self-controlled. Erik was so bewitched by the liquid movement of her hips it took him a moment to see that she carried a bottle of brandy in her hand.
Anticipation rushed through him as he lifted his attention to the woman’s face.
Green eyes reflected the dance of the flames behind him and lush red lips curved enticingly. After the way their night at the theater had ended, he wasn’t sure if she’d continue meeting with him.
He should have expected to be surprised by this woman. She had come to him.
“Madam,” he said as she reached him before the fireplace. “This is unanticipated.”
Fine brows arched. “It shouldn’t be.” She lifted the bottle of brandy. “You couldn’t have thought I’d enjoy this rare and very expensive bottle of brandy all by myself.”
“I had thought you might enjoy savoring it in your quieter hours.”
She gave a graceful shrug of her bare shoulders. “Some things are for savoring. Others are for enjoying with full, unadulterated gusto.”
“And this brandy falls into the second category?”
“It does tonight.”
“I’ll get the glasses.”
Erik crossed to a sideboard to collect two snifters, and when he turned back to face his guest, it was to see that despite the comfortable sofa and chairs positioned nearby, she had chosen instead to recline on the thick ivory-colored rug spread before the stone-carved hearth. Leaning to the side, she propped herself on one hand as the skirts of her black gown fanned about her legs, reflecting the light from the fire.
When she turned to look over her shoulder at his approach, there was a challenge in her bright, clever gaze, but also a hint of something he hadn’t previously detected in the woman. A quiet, subtle sadness that spoke directly to the loneliness within himself.
Lowering himself to his knees, Erik sat back on his heels as he set the two glasses on the stone hearth. In a silent gesture, he extended his hand for the bottle, which she promptly handed off to him. After opening and pouring, he set the bottle aside and offered a snifter to the lady, who immediately lifted it in a toast.
“To cold winter nights and fine liquor.”
“And even finer company,” he added.
Her smile was fleeting as she lifted the glass and nearly drained it in one swallow.
Erik followed suit, then topped them off with another pour before settling into a more comfortable position. Then he turned his openly assessing focus on his unexpected companion while she directed her gaze toward the fire. She had to sense his blatant perusal but it did not appear to discomfit her in the slightest, and he was glad of that since it was not his intention to distress her. He simply found himself too fully intrigued by her to try to conceal his curiosity.
Curiosity and longing.
He couldn’t deny that part. It was inseparable from his increasing feelings for her.
No doubt, she was very accustomed to men staring so keenly, though he suddenly hated the thought of being just one among likely countless admirers.
With a tilt of her head that was both haughty and coy, she slid a glance in his direction. “I assume since I was shown up here so directly, my visit did not interrupt anything important you might have been tending to.”
Erik chuckled. “Not unless you count the silent cursing of winter weather to be important.”
She made a rough sound of disgust as she lifted her glass for a drink. “I abhor this time of year.”
“That is a strong statement.”
“But a true one. Everyone bustles about promoting this ridiculous façade of good cheer and a generous spirit, when any other time of year, they are selfishly devoted to personal pleasures and hedonism. It’s all so bloody false. And wretchedly dull.”
“I take that to mean you do not celebrate the Christmas holiday.”
“Only as I must. Christmas is best enjoyed by children and the faithful. I am neither.”
“But you do have plans for tomorrow?”
She sighed and turned back to the flames. “My brother is insisting I join him and his family for a holiday dinner. He’s being rather stubborn about it actually. Very annoying.”
“Dinner does not appeal to you?”
She finished the amber liquor in her glass before reaching for the bottle to replace it. “Dinner is fine. I’m simply dreading everything that goes with it. Family is not my forte.”
“They’re a bunch of arseholes?” he prompted in a dry tone.
Her laugh was short but rich and real. “Oh, my brother is definitely an arsehole. But a tolerable one most of the time. His life has undergone some drastic changes recently. Good changes, I suppose, but they’ve prompted this unprecedented attempt at creating some sort of holiday tradition.”
“There is nothing inherently terrible about tradition. Not when you understand that tradition is what you make it.”
She slid him a skeptical glance. “Is that so?”
Erik swirled his brandy as he thought back to the pleasures of his childhood. “M
y troupe was made up of people from all over the world. We all brought our own beliefs and faiths with us. We found a way to blend these things into new traditions we shared together. Growing up with such freedom and non-judgement showed me how people from differing backgrounds and experiences can come together if they simply prioritize compassion and mutual respect.”
She studied him silently from beneath the heavy sweep of her lashes. Erik remained still under her perusal as he stared intently back at her. The intelligence and bright calculation he admired so genuinely were ever present in her green gaze but there was a softening there as well, though it could simply be attributed to the brandy.
The woman was intimidating, to be sure. Self-assured and independent in ways many women were not. Clever, passionate, distrustful, arrogant, and mysterious. It was a singular experience to attempt the seduction of a woman who refused to let you know where you stood. Though he sensed her attraction to him and was delighted she’d chosen to come to him tonight, he knew better than to assume either of those things meant anything in regard to whether or not he would be successful in his endeavor.
She was too cynical and far too unpredictable.
But he was becoming more and more determined to know her. Not Madam Pendragon, who ruled London’s world of sexual delights and pleasures untold. Erik wished to know the girl who’d left home young to claim sovereignty over herself and her future. The young woman who’d dreamed of having it all and having it all under her dominion.
With a depth and intensity that surprised him, he wanted the woman seated before him to find him worthy of not only her intimate time but also her most secret thoughts and unspoken dreams for the future. He was not a man to do anything half-measure and he’d known almost from the very start that he wanted this woman for everything she was, including those elements she carefully kept hidden from the rest of the world.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2) Page 122