Reid collected his chair and followed suit. “I’m sorry. I am just not used to this.”
“Would you be more comfortable with this?” Lavinia hadn’t planned to kiss Reid. Yet nothing could stop her from wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and drawing him to her.
He let out a harsh groan of need and his hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her hard against him. “This is all the therapy I need,” he murmured.
His lips met hers in a kiss that had her immediately throwing all her well-laid plans of maintaining her distance to the four winds. He teased her top lip with a series of small kisses, then gifted the same to her bottom lip.
Lavinia breathed in the luxurious smell of Reid’s cologne. She had deliberately stayed away from him when he was laying siege to her door, afraid that if she caught even the hint of his manly scent, all her stubborn pride would wilt. His fingers slipped from her back and cupped her bottom. He pulled her against him, and her stomach met the unmistakable evidence of his arousal.
Reid deepened the kiss, leaving her to clutch at the back of his waistcoat while he plundered her mouth. Their tongues began the same dance as with their previous encounter. Her heart soared as he drew her into a playful game of thrust and parry. She could deny her needs and desires all she wanted, there was nothing that would tear her away from him at this moment. Lust, pure and heated, coursed through her veins. He made her want to give over complete control, to yield everything to him.
If only she could.
They broke the kiss, both sucking in air. Reid’s fingers brushed the outside of her gown, rubbing back and forth over her hardened nipple. If he picked her up and took her into the bedroom, she would not refuse him anything.
“I want you. I want you in every way possible. I’ve lost count of the times I have imagined what you will look like when I first take you. Of seeing the look on your face as I bring you to completion,” he said, his voice gruff.
“I daren’t.” She met his gaze. Dark pools of desire stared back at her.
“There are methods I can employ to make sure there are no consequences of a liaison. Trust me to take care of you,” he said.
Lavinia shook her head. It wasn’t just the risk of an unwanted pregnancy that she feared. Her heart was not strong enough to hold out against him. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He brushed a tender kiss on her lips. “I know you are unsure about this, so let us make an agreement, shall we? We don’t move our relationship forward while we are working together for the concert. Once the concert is over, however, you agree to reconsider my offer.”
The rational side of her was speaking a loud ‘No,’ but the side which yearned for his touch whispered softly ‘Why not?’
He was a six-foot-two-inch-tall drug and she could not get enough of him. But when this was all over, would he leave her broken and discarded in the gutter like all other forms of addiction did?
“Let us concentrate on your singing lessons and getting you ready for the stage. After that, we can talk about your offer,” she finally replied.
“And in the meantime?”
“What do you mean?”
His lips met hers once more and she opened her mouth, letting him kiss her deeply. Even now she had little strength to resist him, her craving for his touch ever-growing.
“I mean, we can still indulge our passion. There are many forms of lovemaking that do not involve full penetration. I can think of a dozen ways to make you come without me being inside you. Lavinia, you are a beautiful woman, and your body should be worshipped. Let me worship you in every way I can. I will keep you safe.”
“Yes.”
She had sealed her heart’s fate.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Reid had it all planned. First, he would perform on the stage and finally beat Marco. Then he would do something about Lavinia. What that something would look like, he was no longer sure.
Only a matter of weeks ago, he would have gladly taken her to bed, used her to satisfy his lustful cravings, and then walked away without a second thought. But now she had gotten under his skin. From the first minute when he opened his eyes in the morning, Reid was eager to leave the house and set out for Craven Street to see Lavinia. That moment when she opened the door to her apartment and welcomed him with her warm smile was the best.
This morning, however, he had other problems. Getting his house back at the end of the summer was foremost of those concerns. Upon arriving home from his lesson, as he stepped over the prostrate body of Callum lying in the middle of the front entrance of Windmill Street, he knew that day could not come soon enough.
“For God’s sake, get up!” he bellowed.
Callum didn’t move an inch. Reid gave him a nudge with the toe of his boot.
“It won’t do you any good. We tried moving him a while ago and he wouldn’t have a bar of it. Threatened to punch one of the footmen if he attempted to lift him a second time. He is better off where he is.”
Reid caught sight of his sister standing at the bottom of the stairs. As he steadied himself, ready to give Callum a solid kick or two in order to get him moving, a loud sob of despair from Eliza pulled him up.
She raced to his side and took hold of his arm. “Don’t. Please, Reid, it’s not his fault.”
Reid’s heart sank. Normally a picture of calm and restraint, Eliza had unshed tears in her eyes. Heartbreak was written all over her face.
Damn.
“I am going to have to disagree with you, sister dearest. No one holds him down and forces gin down his throat. He won’t seek help for his addictions, so it is his fault he is a mess. Don’t make excuses for him.”
Tears began to slowly trickle down her face.
Bloody hell.
Why couldn’t she have fallen for one of his other friends? Kendal, for all his egotistical faults, would be a safer option as a husband.
With a loud resigned sigh, Reid wrapped his arms around Eliza. She hugged him while crying loudly into his shirt.
“For fuck’s sake, can’t a man be allowed a wink of sleep?” Callum struggled to his knees.
If Reid had been in a more generous frame of mind, he would have helped his friend to his feet. Instead he stood firm as Callum struggled, all the while silently praying that Eliza would finally recognize that Callum Sharp was a full and tragic mess, and someone not worthy of her heart.
Callum’s first attempt at making it to his feet saw him crash back onto the hard tiled floor. The language which followed was enough to make a Thames River boatman blush. After more foul muttering, he finally managed to right himself.
Eliza broke free of Reid’s arms and came to Callum’s side, placing a hand gently on his arm. “Are you alright? Can I get you a cup of tea?” she offered.
He squinted his glazed eyes in the direction of her voice, then looked at her hand which still sat on his arm. He frowned. “Get off me, woman. Let me be. I don’t need you fussing over me.”
“Don’t you dare speak to her like that. You might have no regard for yourself, but you will respect Lady Eliza, or you can pack your things,” snapped Reid as Eliza retreated.
Callum’s already hunched shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Liz, you know I don’t mean it.”
She wiped her tears away, pulled her shoulders back, and turned to Reid. “So how did this morning go?”
“Odd, but interesting,” he replied, his gaze still locked on Callum. The temptation to reach out and throttle him had Reid flexing his fingers. “Lavinia has some unusual training techniques.”
Callum ambled over to them and stood, head bowed, listening. “So, you are still going to go through with it?” he asked.
“I thought we were agreed on that. All five of us had a vote. The motion was carried,” replied Reid.
The longcase clock in the hall whirled and the sound of its gong loudly announced the half hour. Reid waited for it to finish.
A look of abject horror appeared on Callum’s f
ace. “Oh, shit! It’s nearly eleven o’clock. Why didn’t someone wake me?”
Before anyone had the chance to explain to him that they had indeed been trying to scrape him off the tiles, Callum bolted for the front door and was gone. A nearby footman was left to close it after him.
“Oh, well, at least he will get some tea when he gets home. He will, of course, get his bollocks squeezed first for arriving in such a disheveled state, but I can’t say it won’t be undeserved,” said Reid.
Eliza raised an eyebrow in reply.
Reid caught the look and winced. “Sorry. One day I will learn not to say such things in front of you.”
“I won’t hold my breath. Besides, his father will take him to task, so you are not wrong, just a tad inelegant. And it’s nothing that I haven’t already heard over the past weeks from our houseguests,” she replied.
Reid met his sister’s gaze. She was back to her haughty self, but sadness lingered in her eyes. “What do you see in him? I cannot understand how your heart could be set on such a rogue. Callum is like a brother to me, but he will only bring you despair. There are many other men whom I could introduce you to who would give you a happy life.”
She shrugged. Eliza was no different to anyone else who had fallen for the wrong person. What she would say about his own entanglement with his music teacher he didn’t dare to guess. She would most certainly take him to task for meddling with a young widow, especially one who had a child.
The thought of Lavinia brought back to mind the question of her background. A quiet word of enquiry with Kendal was in order. There was more to Lavinia than she was prepared to reveal.
He had to know all her secrets.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Reid stood to one side of the elegant ballroom, nursing a glass of fine French wine. Tonight, was the Noble Lords’ first performance without him singing. While he had agreed with Lavinia that it had to be done, he still felt awkward about it.
Several sly looks from the other guests had not aided in his discomfort. Word of his abysmal attempt to sing as a tenor had clearly found its way around the ton. He could believe that some not-so-well-meaning people were planning to attend the concert at Sans Pareil, with the expectation of watching him fail once more. If that was the case, they were going to be disappointed.
His sessions with Lavinia were surprisingly helpful. He had stopped thinking the dream exercises were a waste of time. He was sleeping better than he had in years, and there was the added bonus of the growing connection between the two of them.
He swallowed deep, blinking away the bright memory of earlier that day when he had held her over the table and stroked her wet heat. Her sobbing climax had nearly brought him undone. A short time later, her lips on his manhood had him crying out her name as a mind-blowing orgasm had rocked his body.
His relationship with Lavinia concentrated his mind more than a casual affair should. The private conversation with Kendal about Lavinia had so far drawn a blank, but Kendal had promised to speak to his sister and ask her to make subtle enquiries. Lavinia had had another life and Reid wanted to know about it.
“Have you seen Callum?” asked Owen.
Reid stirred from his quiet reflection, flinching when he saw the look of frustration on Owen’s face. “No. I had a business appointment to attend to on the way here, so I left home a few hours ago. Didn’t he come with you?”
Owen huffed. “No, the useless shit. He went off to have his usual morning meeting with his papa, saying he would see us here tonight. He didn’t come back to the house, so I have no idea where he is. If he is at the bottom of another bottle of gin, I want us to have a hard discussion about his role in the quartet. I don’t know what has got into him of late. He has always been a drinker, but not to this extent. It’s becoming embarrassing. He can’t expect Kendal and I to carry the whole musical load for the Noble Lords.”
On cue, Kendal appeared from out of the crowd. His expression was almost an exact replica of the one which Owen was wearing. “I sent a footman to Windmill Street to see if he had arrived, but that was an hour ago. The chap has just returned with the news that Callum has not been seen since this morning. At this rate, we won’t have enough music to fill the time. Reid, you may have to sing.”
Owen held up a hand and drew an invisible line in the air. “No. We will all look like idiots. We have told everyone that he is going to perform in a special concert, and we need to keep to that. And besides . . .”
“Besides what?” replied Reid.
Owen glanced over his shoulder. “Marco and his friends are here tonight. My pride can only take so much in front of them. Especially when they seem to be making themselves very much at home with our hostess this evening.”
Reid caught sight of his dark-haired nemesis across the other side of the ballroom. Marco was wearing his trademark immaculate evening attire, his cravat expertly tied. He sipped casually from the brandy glass in his hand.
Reid waited expectantly for his anger to swell at seeing the self-important Italian, but oddly found that his usual emotional response did not stir. He simply noted his presence, and then . . . nothing. “Well, I’ll be,” he muttered. Could Lavinia and her temple sleep actually be having an effect on his reaction to Marco? A wry grin crept to his lips.
“Well, I am glad you can find something amusing in all this,” said Kendal.
“No, none of this is the slightest bit funny. I was thinking of something else.”
Not ready to tell his friends just how deeply she had gotten under his skin. Reid was unwilling to share the private moments he’d had with Lavinia. Or that she had already stolen a piece of his heart. They would tell him he was a fool, perhaps even challenge his reasons for wishing to perform on the stage. Since neither Owen nor Kendal had supported him in the vote for the concert, he was not going to hand them a reason to cancel it.
“We are due to play in five minutes. I suggest we stick to the concertos we have for violin and piano. If anyone asks about Callum, we simply tell them he is unwell,” said Kendal.
Matters with Callum were coming to a head. Reid had held off on confronting his friend until now, more due to his concern over Eliza’s reaction than wanting to spare Callum’s feelings. But Owen was right; they couldn’t allow Callum’s out-of-control lifestyle to continue.
The unspoken worry among them all was that sooner or later Callum was going to push things that one step too far. And no one wanted to be standing at his graveside, wondering if perhaps things would have gone differently, if only they had held an intervention earlier and tried to pull him back from the brink.
The Callum Sharp who had returned from Waterloo was not the same man who had sailed from England with Reid and the others. He was a darker, fragmented version of his old self. And at times, it broke Reid’s heart.
Reid was in the middle of mulling over the problem of Callum when Marco made an unexpected and unwelcome appearance in their midst. The sly grin he wore on his face added just that little extra spice to his haughty demeanor. “Lord Follett, I hear you are not singing tonight. This is not good,” he said, holding up his hands.
If ever a man was in serious need of a punch to the throat, it was Marco. The look of disdain on Owen’s face said he would be second in line if punches were to be thrown. Kendal simply looked Marco up and down and snorted. Reid could have kissed Kendal; such was the elegance of his filthy look.
“We like to change things up a little now and then. Tonight, we are just performing some violin and piano pieces. A special treat for the gathering. Are you performing your usual bland selection?” Reid languidly raised a single eyebrow. Whatever power Marco had once had over him; it was gone. His only regret being that Lavinia was not here to see it.
“Yes, well, people have come to expect a certain performance from us. Speaking of which, I must go and make certain our preparations are complete. Excuse me.” Marco gave a quick bow, then turned and hastily departed.
All three of them watch
ed him leave. Kendal chuckled wickedly. “Nice work, Reid. Subtle, but I think he got the message. Don’t be surprised if those blackguards suddenly make some alterations to their current repertoire.”
Before Lavinia, the prospect of Marco and his friends making fresh changes to their offering would have given Reid cause for worry. Now, he found himself not caring if the Italians were still chasing after the wicked women of the ton. They could share their charms with whomever they pleased.
I don’t give a damn who they bed. I only want her.
He was no longer concerned with who was bedding who in London. He was only interested in one person.
Reid Follett, when it comes to a certain singing teacher, I think Cupid might have stuck an arrow in your arse.
The others continued their discussion, but Reid wasn’t listening. He was far more interested in what his heart was saying.
“Reid?”
“What?”
Owen slapped him on the arm. “I was saying that I’ve heard a rumor that the Italians have had to vacate their accommodations for less expensive ones. Something about their manager doing a midnight flit with their money.”
“Really?” Considering how much he disliked Marco, Reid found it hard to feel sorry for him and his friends.
“And I have seen a few ladies give them a wide berth. It looks like our competition are not as popular as they once were. You should have the run of women this evening, Owen. Anyone take your fancy?” said Kendal.
Owen shrugged, showing an unusual but decided lack of interest in the question.
Lord Owen Morrison was never disinterested in women. The natural order of the world was set thus: the sun rose, the sun set, and Owen chased skirt. Reid was certain that it was cast in stone somewhere in ancient texts.
“I am not interested in any of the ladies present this evening. I am going to play for these good people, then head home for an early night,” replied Owen.
Reid glanced toward the window. The sun had already set this evening, so the cosmos had not suddenly shifted. But something had changed with Owen.
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