Everything Forbidden (3 page)

It wasn’t true, of course. A sheltered girl like Miranda could never even begin to fathom the life Ethan led, but still…the look was enticement itself.

And now she was in his home. Alone. Demanding an audience with him.

Intriguing.

“I’ll see her,” he said quietly.

Winston let out a loud sigh that left little doubt to his disgust at that decision. “She awaits you in the front parlor, my lord.”

After the servant had bowed his way out, Ethan smoothed his coat. No doubt he looked a mess after a final week of debauchery in London and then a long carriage ride to the country. How would his little miss react when he strode into the parlor with
the shadow of a beard across his chin and the scent of sherry on his lips?

Wouldn’t it be interesting to see?

He grinned as he made his way down the hallway and opened the parlor door.

Miranda was sitting in a chair by the fire, her foot twitching nervously beneath her. When the door clicked open, she surged to her feet and turned to face him. For a brief moment, her face reflected nervousness and an awareness of the impropriety of the situation.

But then she
really
looked at him and everything changed. Her wide, blue eyes—such a bright color that almost put him to mind of the sea in warmer parts of the world than England—slipped up and down his body. And it wasn’t a quick, nervous perusal. No, this was something else.

She lingered on every inch of his form and for a brief moment something flashed across her face that nearly set Ethan back on his heels.

Desire. Hot, heady, unabashed desire.

He realized in that moment that he was looking right at exactly what he had been searching for in every courtesan and widow in London while he sought out this year’s lover.

And it was facing him in the image of a woman he could never have without a band of gold encircling her finger.

This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. And yet Miranda couldn’t find the strength to run. All she could do was stand in the middle of Rothschild’s parlor and stare at him. Drink him in. Think about every wicked thing she had ever watched him do.

By God, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in her entire, admittedly sheltered, life. But she couldn’t imagine that even the most experienced woman wouldn’t look at him and lose her wits. In fact, she knew they couldn’t. She’d seen so many of them surrender to his touch over the three years she had been spying on his trysts.

The things he had done to those willing women. The
ways
he had done those things…

Just the thought made her squirm as wet need flooded her thighs. No! No, she couldn’t think of that now. Not if she wanted to talk to him and not come off as an addled ninny.

“H-Hello,” she stammered, her voice cracking.

To her surprise, he left the door open wide and leaned against the entryway with one broad shoulder.

“What a surprise, Miss Albright,” he said with a hint of humor in his voice. Like he was laughing at her. He always sounded like he was laughing at her. Hot blood flooded her cheeks.

“I realize I was not expected.” She jammed her shaking hands together behind her back in the hopes she could somehow erase her nervousness.

“Nor invited,” he interjected with a wide grin that seemed to flow over his entire handsome face. “But I did not say it was an unpleasant surprise. I do admit, I’m quite curious as to the reason for your call. Would you care to enlighten me?”

She shifted nervously, staring at the open door. Why hadn’t he come inside?

“Er, it is a delicate matter I wish to discuss,” she stammered. “I would rather the servants did not hear.”

Rothschild tilted his head and looked at her closely. There
was something about the way he was examining her. Like he wasn’t sure if he should eat her or indulge her. She wasn’t sure which option she preferred.

“My servants have no ears, my dear,” he finally said and remained in the doorway.

She frowned. “
All
servants have ears, my lord, even when they pretend they do not. You know that as well as I do.”

“I had forgotten that you are a sharp little minx, too.”

He smiled again, wolfish, but it was as if the comment were more for himself than her. She folded her arms across her chest as a barrier.

“Will you not close the door?” she asked, tilting her chin with pride.

His grin became less genuine. “No, my dear, I will not. I won’t have your Mama saying I ruined you and demanding I take your hand in marriage. I won’t be trapped, if that is what you came here for.”

She moved forward without thinking. “How dare you! Of course I didn’t come here to trap you! And my mother has nothing to do with this!” She stopped. “Well, she does, but only indirectly. She certainly did not send me here as part of some scheme.”

He leaned back to examine her. “Sharp, saucy and beautiful, too. It is a pity.” He seemed to ponder her statement for a moment, then shrugged as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Very well. But recognize that if you are lying, I won’t marry you to salvage any blemish to your reputation. If you create a situation for yourself, you will live with the consequences.”

If Miranda hadn’t been so nervous, she might have laughed. Dear God, the man had no idea what she was about to propose. Well, he was too smug and self-assured for his own good anyway. It might be entertaining to see him completely shocked.

Terrifying. But entertaining.

“Speak Miss Albright,” he said as he poured himself a drink. “You certainly have my attention, do not lose it by staring at me silently.”

She started. She
had
been staring. It was hard not to with his shirt stretching over his arms when they flexed as he reached for a glass.

“Yes, of course.” She stopped, clearing her throat as she thought about the words she had prepared. She’d practiced this speech at least a hundred times, yet it still came with difficulty. “I-I must be blunt, I’m afraid, for I have little time.”

He laughed, that rich, husky sound she’d heard so many times before. Instantly her eyes fluttered shut and she stifled a sigh.

“Bluntness is my preference, for
I
have little patience.”

Her eyes came open. He might say that, but she knew it wasn’t true. Since the first afternoon she spied on him three years ago, how many times had she watched him lying out in that same spot by the lake and pleasure a woman for hours without slaking his own needs? That required patience and, if his groans of relief when he finally did enter his lovers were any indication, generosity.

“My, wouldn’t I like to know what you are thinking right now,” he said. His voice had gone low and soft and his gaze was focused and intense.

Miranda gasped as she turned away. Damn, this was harder
than she thought it would be. Shaking, she pulled herself together. This was her last option. She couldn’t throw it away.

“I’m sure you’re aware my father died six months ago.”

“Yes.” His tone held no indication of his thoughts on the subject and she didn’t dare to look at him. It didn’t matter what he thought of her father or her loss.

“Not many people know this, but my family is in dire straights.” She forced herself to turn now, though she continued to stare at the floor to avoid his piercing, dark stare.

“I had guessed as much,” he replied.

She glanced up in surprise. Was it too late? Had news of her family shame already spread so far?

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Do not worry, my dear. I don’t think your father’s…problems are public quite yet. At least, not with those who do not have their own vices to contend with.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Then how do you know about them?”

Ethan tilted his head. “I do not want to reveal any secrets about your father that might pain you.”

Miranda flinched. “You saw him gamble?”

He nodded, just once. “But what does your situation have to do with me? I am owed no money from his estate and even if I were, I doubt I would pursue the matter. I may have a reputation, Miss Albright, but it has never been one of a man who would make a woman and her four daughters destitute.”

Miranda almost laughed. “Well, some men do not have your…” She shivered as she looked at him. God, most men didn’t have
anything
like Rothschild. “Your kindness. There are many
so-called gentleman and rogues alike demanding repayment for my father’s debts. My mother does not seem to care that soon we will lose everything. She is determined that my sisters will each have the most spectacular Seasons society has ever witnessed. And she doesn’t care if that goal ultimately puts us onto the street.”

“While I am sorry for your troubles, I still don’t know what it has to do with me.”

Rothschild didn’t look one bit sorry for her troubles, but he did look intrigued, so Miranda rushed on.

“You sponsored two of your cousins in very successful Seasons not long ago,” she said.

He couldn’t quite manage to conceal a shudder and she almost smiled. So, he hadn’t enjoyed bringing the girls out into Society. She could hardly blame him. His cousins were pretty young women, but entirely empty-headed ninnies.

“Yes, they both managed to leg shackle two unsuspecting, and more importantly,
titled
men.”

“That is exactly what I mean!” Miranda said with an enthusiastic nod. “That’s the kind of match one of us will have to make.”

“A titled, rich man.” Rothschild folded his arms and looked at her for a long moment before horror dawned over his features. “Not me!”

Miranda flinched at his heated, appalled tone. Dear Lord, was she so unappealing as all that?

She arched a brow and hoped she would sound cool and condescending. “Of course not. I did not come here to throw myself or my sisters at you for a marriage.”

It
would
solve all their problems, of course, but that was beside the point. She had no illusion that a man of such lusty appetites would want her, and the thought of handing over one of her innocent sisters to him was even less appealing.

Rothschild gave her an audacious wink. “That is more your mother’s speed, eh?”

Miranda knew she should feign outrage, but couldn’t manage it. Her mother’s aggressive tactics when it came to pursuing good marriages for her daughters were actually in part why Miranda knew she would likely never find a husband.

“I hoped you might do my family the same courtesy that you did your cousins.”

He blinked once, then twice, as if he hadn’t fully understood her meaning. Then he frowned. “You want me to sponsor your Season?”

“Not me, Lord Rothschild. My sisters!” She clasped her hands together, praying he would do this. “I know it is so much to request when you are only vaguely affiliated with my family. But I
need
you to sponsor their Seasons. If you don’t, I do not know what will happen to us!”

Ethan stared at Miranda Albright. The woman might be everything desirable, but he was beginning to think her daft, as well. He wouldn’t doubt it, considering her mother.

How could Miranda think that he would ever willingly be the sponsor of her sisters’ Seasons? If he hadn’t been conscripted into duty by his beloved aunt, he never would have been a benefactor for his cousins! The months they had been husband hunting had been the most trying of his life, requiring sacrifice and a propriety that made his teeth ache when he recalled it.

He couldn’t think of anything that could tempt him to repeat that process for three veritable strangers.

“Great God, woman,” he said as he set down his drink with a clink of glass on bare wood. “Why in the world wouldn’t you turn to your own family? Why involve me in your nonsense?”

Miranda’s face flickered with embarrassment that she quickly
covered. He admired that ability. Though he’d always seen her as a typical Society Miss, beautiful but empty, she was proving him wrong. She stood toe to toe with him, swallowing back emotions in a single-minded pursuit of her strange request, when most women would have been in hysterics by now.

“My mother’s family does not have the means to assist us. They have no position and little wealth,” she said quietly. “And my father grew estranged from his family the more he wasted away his life through gambling. I
have
tried to contact his elder brother, the Marquis, but he refuses to have anything to do with us. His response was, essentially, that my father had made our bed and it was not his responsibility to keep us from lying in it.”

There was an underlying bitterness to her tone that was not reflected in either her face or demeanor. Ethan tried to remain immune to it, but it reminded him too much of his own broken upbringing and severed familial ties. He would never admit it to Miranda, of course, but he understood the pain she was trying to keep secret.

“And what of your family friends?” he asked, searching for one last way to escape this request she was making. “Surely one of them would be of greater assistance than a man you hardly know.”

“Many of my father’s supposed friends are the ones who are calling in his debts.” Now she didn’t make any attempt to mask her anger. Her blue eyes flashed with a rage and resolve that surprised Ethan. “And I don’t wish to meet the terms some are requesting in order to cancel our obligations.”

He arched a brow as he looked her up and down. He could well imagine the bargains those men would offer. Who wouldn’t?
Miranda Albright was wholly unspoiled, but still maintained an air of innocent sensuality about her in everything she did, from her sultry eyes to the way she held her body. The man who claimed her would be wise to teach her in all the traditions of sin and passion and pleasure.

“They want you, eh?” he asked, unable to keep the wicked question from falling from his lips just to see her reaction.

For a moment, she seemed shocked by his forward words, but then her mouth thinned into a brittle line. “No. That would trouble me far less. My youngest sister was what one man requested. She is just sixteen.”

Anger and disgust flooded Ethan and he clenched his hands at his sides. “Bastard.”

She nodded once in agreement. “Do you see now why it is imperative that I host a good Season for my sisters?”

Miranda moved forward, lifting her hand like she was going to grasp his arm, but then she stopped. She stared at him and then to her hanging hand and he couldn’t help but do the same. He found himself disappointed when she pushed her fists down at her sides instead of touching him.

“You keep saying you want Seasons for your younger sisters,” he said, surprised at the husky tone of his voice. “But you are certainly still of an age. Why not simply find a husband, yourself?”

“I have had two Seasons,” she said, her face becoming a stony mask. “If I could not find a suitable match by now, I certainly don’t think my luck will change. And I am beginning to think a marriage would not suit me anyway. I am too independent.”

Ethan stared at her. He’d heard the “independent” speech
before. Most of the time, it came from hardened spinsters and unappealing wallflowers. Women who could not find matches because of their looks or shrill attitudes. Women who had no hope of ever marrying, let alone marrying well.

But when he met Miranda Albright’s eyes, he didn’t see the disappointment often found in women who had surrendered their hopes of marriage. There was a true independent streak in her. A recognition that she might be able to find a marriage, but not one that would suit her desires.

And hadn’t he heard she turned down at least two—perhaps it was three—very respectable offers, albeit before her father’s death, when she might not have realized the full ramifications of that action? No, she was no wallflower.

He moved toward her, almost without thought. She watched him step in her direction and her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away, even when he moved too close for propriety. A dark hunger stirred in him at her spirit. At the flicker of sensuality that she probably didn’t even understand or recognize. There were so many things he could teach her. Things he could do to her. But a woman of her station and past would never allow for that…would she?

There was only one way to find out.

“Independence is all well and good,” Ethan said with a smile his last mistress had called wickedness embodied. Of course she had said it just as her own sweet mouth encircled his cock. “But what of the pleasures you will miss by surrendering yourself to the path of a spinster?”

Miranda swallowed and her throat worked. Her mouth was lush, with full lips. How had he missed that fact before? It was
exactly the kind of mouth a man wanted to feel trailing along his skin.

She shifted slightly and a charming dash of high color entered her cheeks. By the way her gaze darted away, she knew exactly what kind of pleasures he was talking about.

He inched closer. Now his body was almost touching hers, teasing him with what it would feel like if her skin brushed his. She smelled of just a hint of the heady scent of lilacs.

“I-I suppose there is the companionship,” she stammered, blue eyes darkening as she fought to look anywhere in the room but at him.

“Not companionship. You can get that from a dog. No, Miss Albright, I am referring to the
physical
pleasures,” he said softly. “Do you not wonder about what happens between a man and a woman? Those mysteries no one wants to reveal to you until you are married?”

She swallowed again, but then her shoulders straightened and she looked into his eyes directly. A flash of challenge lit up the blue, and that feeling that she knew his secrets flooded him yet again.

“I
know
what happens,” she said softly.

He drew back in startled surprise. “Are you saying you have been with a man?”

She never looked away, never balked. Only the darkening blush of her cheeks gave away her feelings on the matter. “No.”

Ethan looked her up and down. What was it about her that made him ache so? Normally he just wanted to fuck. To bury himself in wet and welcoming heat until he was spent. Who cared about the source of his pleasure? A pretty woman, one
who could make him smile, was always nice but certainly not required.

But Miranda Albright, with her innocent blushes and hidden fire, made him want
her
. And he always got what he wanted.

One way or another.

“You think this is the only way?”

She nodded without hesitation. “I know it is the only way.”

He stroked his fingers along his stubbly chin. “What if I told you I would provide your sisters their Seasons, but only at a price?”

Much to her credit, Miranda didn’t even blink in surprise. “Of course. I never expected you would do this for free.”

He drew back in surprise. “So you came here ready to bargain?”

She swallowed and her throat worked with the action. Once again, he pictured those full lips closing around his length and barely held back a moan. The little innocent had no idea of her charms.

“I thought to offer you some of my jewelry, but unfortunately I have recently discovered that it was all replaced with paste by my father.” Her mouth drew down. “Including my grandmother’s broach.”

“I wouldn’t have taken it even if it was diamonds,” he retorted, enjoying the way her eyes snapped up to his. “What else?”

Her lips thinned with a flash of irritation and he barely suppressed a chuckle. Damn, it was amusing to rile her.

“And then I thought perhaps I could promise you some portion of my sisters’ pin money if they found husbands’ with means.”

Ethan arched a brow. “A rather difficult promise to make. You’re not only promising someone else’s blunt, but only if your sisters are successful in their husband hunts. It seems like a poor investment.”

“So clearly I have no money,” she said with a sigh. “And I came here in the hopes that you would be able to suggest some kind of payment that would be amenable to you. What could I possibly offer you?”

Ethan groaned as his cock eased to attention beneath his breaches. Damn, she didn’t know all the dark and dangerous images that innocent question inspired.

“My request is not much different from the other men who are trying to collect on your father’s debts,” he said softly. “However, I have a bit more sophisticated tastes than to want a child hardly out of the schoolroom. No, I want
you
.”

Miranda blinked as Ethan’s words began to sink into her system. Her? He wanted
her
? Like he had wanted those other women she’d watched him with?

But no, he couldn’t mean it in that sense. Not Ethan Hamon. Not the wicked Earl of Rothschild who had his pick of willing, beautiful, experienced women. Not the man she’d watched pleasure two courtesans just one summer before and leave both women begging for more by the time Miranda snuck away home to relieve her frustrations alone.

He couldn’t want
her
.

“You mean for…” She struggled to find some other explanation. He had money, he had servants, he didn’t have children who required a governess. He would have no need for her.

Except for the one purpose that was so hard to accept.

She swallowed as she met his gaze. It was hard and hot and swept away any remaining doubt of exactly what he meant. Under that stare, she felt stripped. Naked. Desired. Owned. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

“You mean my innocence,” she whispered.

Ethan flinched just a fraction, but then the reaction was gone. He took a step away and swept up his forgotten drink. He took a sip before he answered.

“At first, but that isn’t all I want,” he said. His gaze flitted over her from head to toe and she felt even more exposed the second time. “You are asking me to potentially host three Seasons, my dear, if one of the girls is not immediately successful. And considering your mother’s tastes, that won’t be inexpensive. And there is my time to consider. My sponsorship will mean I shall have to attend at least
some
tedious balls and parties over the next few years. I don’t think your mere innocence is valuable enough to cover all that.”

Miranda gasped. As a lady, she had been taught that her virtue was her most important possession. The one fragile thing that separated her from one life and another. Losing it meant losing any chance at the marriage her mother had long planned for her. It could very well mean a loss of respectability entirely if the truth were revealed.

“My innocence is all I have,” she said.

Ethan stopped mid-sip and stared at her. His dark brown eyes were almost black and hard as steel. He set the glass down with a loud, echoing clink and moved on her.

“No, that is what the matrons tell you to keep you in line.
That one little barrier separates you from sin or sainthood. From good and evil. But you have so much more to offer than that.”

He stopped just inches from her, invading her space for a second time. Just as it had the first, his nearness made her head spin. His hand lifted and one finger trailed lazily over the curls along her hairline. Miranda gasped. He had never touched her before. Not even her hand. And this…well, it wasn’t the kind of intimate touch she had witnessed from him over the years, but it wasn’t proper, that was certain.

She tried to draw breath, to remain calm as that one finger continued to trail down her skin until it skimmed her jawline. Little electric tingles rocked through her at the touch.

“So you—you want me three times?” she asked.

He barked out a laugh and pulled his hand away. “My, we do have a high opinion of our sexual prowess, don’t we?”

Hot blood filled her cheeks, but Miranda forced herself to remain where she stood and endure Ethan’s mockery. “I have no sexual prowess—”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered.

She ignored the dry interruption. “I am merely trying to understand the terms of the offer you are putting forth.”

A sudden, small smile tilted the corners of his lips. “So very businesslike. Have you done this before?”

“Of course not.” She folded her arms over her breasts and glared at him. “Tell me exactly what you are asking of me. Now.”

He inclined his head in a sarcastic salute. “Yes, Miss Albright, of course. Here is
exactly
what I want. I will be here at my estate for several months, as I am every year at this time.”

Miranda flushed as she thought of how well she knew that
fact. This was the time of year she looked forward to more than any other. As soon as she knew Ethan had arrived from London, she began her summer walks…her summer spying sessions where she watched Ethan take his pleasure, give pleasure, do shocking things. And she loved it. Every forbidden, stolen moment.

“What I want is for you to be my mistress this summer.”

Miranda stumbled back a step and her arms fell straight to her sides. “You—your mistress?”

How many times had she longed for that very thing? Pictured herself spread out for Ethan’s desires, waiting for him to have her in every wicked way his naughty mind could fathom? How many times had she touched herself while imagining it was Ethan stroking his hands and mouth and cock over her? And now he was offering to fulfill her fantasy for the entire summer.