A Bluestocking Christmas (12 page)

“Damn it to hell, Ivy. I practically threw myself on the fire just now and you have nothing to say. Even something scathing?” he muttered. His reaction to her silence made her want to laugh, but she refrained from bruising his pride further.

“I take it that apologies are not your strong suit,” she said with restrained amusement.

“No,” he said with a grimace then smiled. “But you cannot fault me for doing what I believe is right.”

“I suppose not,” she said as she accepted he was a man of conviction. “I know you care for Anthony a great deal. He speaks very highly of you.”
 

“Actually I was referring to you and my efforts to earn my way back into your good graces. Although it’s clear, I shall be broke inside of a month if I find myself giving up other valuable literary works from my private collection.” The playful note in his voice made Ivy laugh.

“At least your efforts will expand the quality of the library’s offerings.”

“I’m sure they will. I have at least two books that rival
The Golden Lotus
in their erotic content that I am more than willing to part with…for a price.”
 

“You’re absolutely wicked,” she said with exasperation.

“True, but in order to be good, I must first be
quite
wicked.”
 

Unable to help herself, Ivy laughed. He’d moved closer without her realizing it, and his close proximity sent tension rocketing through her. She shook her head slightly.

“You’re an incorrigible beast.”
 

“Then tame the beast, Ivy.” With a mock growl, he leaned into her and nipped at her ear with his teeth.

“I…don’t know what you mean.” The pace of her breathing doubled as she suppressed a moan at the heat of his breath brushed across her earlobe.

 
“Oh, I think you do,” he whispered.

In the shadows of the carriage’s soft candlelight, Simon’s gray eyes were the color of dark pewter. The desire flaring in his gaze made Ivy’s heart stop for a brief moment before it resumed its frantic pounding. They’re gazes locked, and she shuddered as she fought to control the overwhelming need to touch him. He didn’t reach out for her. Instead, he put space between them.
 

Silently, he watched her, doing nothing to coerce her to lean into him. When she did so, it was of her own freewill. The moment her mouth brushed across his, he tugged her hard against him. Heat throbbed its way through her holding her hostage to a sensation she’d never experience before. Fire skimmed across her skin as he kissed her with a hungry intensity that frightened her almost as much as it thrilled her.
 

When he’d kissed her the other day, she’d known his caress was potent and dangerous. It was only now that she realized just how precarious a position she was in. The man has told her to tame the beast, but she wasn’t sure it was possible. Passion, wild and out of control blazed its way through her as Simon pulled her deeper into his arms.
 

In seconds, he’d unfastened the short evening cape she wore, and his mouth etched its way along the edge of her jaw to the side of her neck. The exquisiteness of his mouth burning a trail of fire against her skin made her tremble violently as his finger grazed the edge of her bodice. Without thought, her head fell back against the leather squabs of the seat as desire engulfed her with each kiss he left on her skin.
 

The moment his finger dipped into the cleft between her breasts, she gasped softly. The intimate caress only made her long for something more. In the next breath, his tongue danced in the small hollow mimicking another more intimate act. She hadn’t thought her heartbeat could go any faster, but his touch dispensed with that notion.
 

Caught up in the throes of something she didn’t understand, she moaned as he continued to tease her with the slow stoke of his tongue against her flesh. Not even Whitby had ever excited her to this degree. This man’s touch stirred a wild and wanton creature inside her. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She couldn’t think. All she could do was feel.
 

The sudden jerk of the carriage coming to a halt made Simon retreat from her. The sound of his harsh breaths reassured her that he was aroused as much as she. Dazed she could only stare at him. Although passion still blazed in his eyes, a slow seductive smile curved his lips.
 

“That’s a start, Ivy. But’s it’s just a taste of the pleasures awaiting us both,” he murmured in a husky tone.
 

A shiver of pleasure rippled across her skin at the promise. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she’d given way to something that could easily consume and destroy her, just as it had done with Whitby. The thought sluiced ice through her veins, and she swallowed hard as she fought to regain her composure. She met his gaze for a moment before she glanced away. Her mind raced for a response that would put some distance between him and the passion he’d aroused in her. With a shake of her head, Ivy fumbled with the frog loops of her evening cape.
 

 
“Even the best of plans often come to naught, my lord.”

“But I don’t expect to fail, Ivy. In fact, I plan to be quite successful.”
 

There was a steely note in his voice that alarmed her, but she didn’t have a chance to respond as the door to the carriage opened. While she quickly did the best she could to repair her disheveled appearance, Simon stepped out of the vehicle then offered her his hand.
 

The moment her hand slid into his, another wave of heat swelled over her. Gray eyes of molten steel studied her as she descended from the vehicle. Hot and blazing, his gaze held a promise of things she desperately wanted to experience, in spite of the warnings wailing like a banshee in her head. Alarmed by the sensations still tying her to him, Ivy averted her gaze and climbed the steps of Clarendon House with Simon at her side.
 

Inside the Earl’s house, the air was already hot and stuffy despite the crisp winter air. As she removed her cape, Simon’s fingers discreetly brushed against her skin as he lifted the garment off her shoulders. The light caress made her shiver, and she instinctively glanced over her shoulder at him.
 

The look of desire in his eyes made her heart pound against her ribs. The passionate exchange between them in the carriage had been a silent offer. He wanted to be her lover. She jerked her gaze away from him. It would be unwise to experience the pleasure he offered. They were from two different worlds. And she had no wish to acquaint herself with his world any more than she already was.
 

Every fiber in her being was conscious of his nearness, and she desperately sought to find a safe harbor from the tension layering its way around her like a spider web. The moment she spied Lord Asterly with the Earl of Clarendon she quickly moved forward, allowing Simon too follow. Both of the distinguished gentlemen welcomed her presence with a smile as she drew near. Offering her hand to first one man and then the other, she smiled back at them.

“My lords, how lovely to see you this evening,” she said a bit too brightly, which tugged one corner of Lord Clarendon’s mouth upward as he looked over her shoulder then bowed over her hand.

 
“Miss Beecham, you’re looking particularly lovely this evening. There’s something different about you that I can’t quite put my finger on,” she earl said in a quiet voice as he glanced up at her in amusement.
 

Heat filled Ivy’s cheeks as she met the man’s gaze. Dear lord, did she look as though she’d just been thoroughly kissed by the Viscount? Dismayed, she forced a smile to her lips and accepted the compliment with a quiet word of thanks. As the earl straightened, a tiny frisson skated over her skin telling her Simon was directly behind her. Lord Clarendon extended his hand with a congenial smile.
 

“Wycombe. It’s been too long since our last discussion on the finer aspects of architecture.”

“Indeed, my lord.” Simon shook the earl’s hand while Lord Asterly distracted Ivy by carrying her hand to his lips.

“My dear Miss Beecham, a delightful pleasure as always,” Asterly said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I understand you’re responsible for the library’s most recent acquisition.”

“Actually, my lord, it was Lord Wycombe’s idea. I was simply the catalyst.” Beside her, she caught Simon’s soft chuckle.

“A catalyst, indeed, Miss Beecham.” Her skin tingled. Despite the formal way he spoke to her, there was a note of intimacy in his voice that teased her senses.

“We’re decidedly grateful for your contribution, Wycombe,” Lord Clarendon’s said with an arched eyebrow. “I should have known you were the one to acquire the papers. You’re the only person I know whose love of Voltaire’s work would allow for the payment of such an exorbitant sum.”

“The Frenchman’s wit is of particular interest to me.” Simon glanced at Ivy, and instinct told her to review Voltaire’s work at the earliest moment possible.

 
“I am grateful as well, my dear boy. The Voltaire Papers will be the crowning jewel in our collection. Personally, I’m astonished you allowed Miss Beecham to wheedle them out of your possession.”

“One wins the victory when one yields to a beautiful woman,” Simon said with a smile. His response pulled a loud laugh out of both men.
 

“I do believe the boy is paraphrasing Sophocles,” Lord Asterly said with a chuckle as he nudged the earl and nodded toward Simon. “Is it possible our dear Miss Beecham has met her match in her knowledge of the classics?”

 
Ivy darted a glance in Simon’s direction and found him watching her with a spark of devilment in his eyes. The rogue was testing her. Daring her to match him in another battle of words, but this time in front of others with no time to consider an appropriate response. Well, she wouldn’t do it.

Every time she entered into a verbal duel with him, she found herself in his arms.
But then you like being in his arms, don’t you, Ivy.
She ignored the voice. No, she didn’t like it. She didn’t even like the man.
Liar.
With an inward sigh, she shook her head.
 

“My lords, I confess I am at a loss as to how to respond to such flattery. Now if you’ll excuse me, I see Mrs. Simpson and must say hello.” Smiling, she nodded in their direction and made ready to retreat. As she turned her head, she caught the gleam of mockery in Simon’s eyes, which made her lose her tongue.
 

“Oh, and I must mention that despite that old saying to the victor belongs the spoils, I am far from defeated when it comes to a battle of wits, my lord.”
 

Not waiting for a retort, she sailed away from the three of them laughing in her wake. She spent several moments with Mrs. Simpson before walking with the woman toward the wide staircase leading up to the ballroom. As the other woman stopped to speak with someone, Ivy continued to climb the stairs all too aware that she was trying to escape Simon. A now familiar frisson skimmed across her skin as a firm hand cupped her elbow.
 

“If you think to escape me, Ivy, I suggest you run faster.”

“I was not running.”

“Walking fast then,” he said wryly. Unable to help herself, she laughed.
 

“You are irredeemable, my lord.”

“Simon.” The quiet command made her glance up at him in surprise.
 

“Don’t be absurd. It’s highly inappropriate.”

“Now, Ivy.”
 

Determination echoed in his soft command as he blocked her ability to continue up the stairs. Pressed into the banister by the crush of the crowd and Simon’s unyielding body, she watched a number of people eye them with curiosity and amusement as they passed by. For not the first time this evening, Ivy’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Good heavens the man wanted everyone to believe they were far more intimate with each other than was the case.
 

The thought made her bite down on her lip as she realized it was only a matter of time. It was impossible to deny that there was something intangible between them. Eventually she would surrender to the desire she felt, despite her conviction that there could be only one outcome given their social stations.
 

Her heart fluttered, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from excitement or dread. Perhaps it was a bit of both. She shook her head in protest. She darted a quick glance at the couple passing them on their way up to the ballroom. Were they close enough to hear their conversation? Her gaze flew back to Simon.

“Please, if someone heard me…” Ivy’s voice trailed off as she saw his mouth become a hard, firm line of determination.

“Now.”
 

“Simon,” she hissed. “There. Are you happy with yourself?”

“Quite. I simply want you to become accustomed to the sound of it.” He leaned forward to whisper into her ear. "Because in the near future, I intend for you to cry out my name as Kate did for Petruchio.”

Although she was certain no one had heard him but her, she still glanced wildly around her. Satisfied that she was still safe from savage gossip, she lifted her gaze to look at him. Amused complacency curved his mouth upward and she glared at him. Mad. The man was stark raving mad.