Jo Goodman (27 page)

"Oh?"

One of his brows was arched. Mercedes couldn't tell if he was genuinely curious or laughing at her. "Often," she said. There was a pause, then she amended, "Constantly." It was difficult to keep her hands at her sides when his dark eyes narrowed and bore into her.

Colin's glance never left her face, yet he saw all of her. Mercedes's hair framed her face softly, secured only loosely by the red grosgrain ribbon. That touch of color contrasted starkly with the virginal white of her simple nightgown. The cotton fabric lay lightly against her skin, not transparent, but suggestive all the same of the slim curves beneath it. Her nipples were pale as the blush on a rose, the tips extended like buds of the very same flower. The rise and fall of her breasts was gentle as she breathed shallowly under his hooded scrutiny.

She was without slippers. One bare foot nudged the other, turning the delicate ankle out. Colin saw the nervous movement was prompted by a burst of shyness, as if she would in the next moment run from him.

"Come here, Mercedes," he said lowly.

She had no doubt it was a command. The space that separated them loomed greater than any distance she had covered thus far this evening. He held out a hand, palm up, and she found herself walking toward him. She was propelled into his arms by a force outside her control, raised on tiptoe by a cushion of air, and held against him as though bound.

His mouth was hard on hers. Urgent. Seeking. Almost a punishment. It was only when she returned the full measure of his passion that his lips gentled and softened. He tasted her mouth now, savored it, ran the edge of his tongue along the sensitive underside of her lip and across the uneven ridge of her teeth. She opened to this sensual assault, pressing herself closer.

Her breasts flattened against Colin's chest. The gold buttons on his waistcoat imprinted themselves on her skin. Mercedes's arms looped around his neck and she drew herself up. His hands closed over her waist, supporting her.

"You're standing on my toes."

She could feel his words as a whisper on her own lips. "What?"

Colin's hands tightened and he raised her easily. "My toes," he said softly. "You were standing on them."

Not enough space separated their bodies for Mercedes to look down and see the truth of it. She believed him. "I won't do it anymore." It was a breathless promise.

He set her down on the tip of his boots again. "I don't mind." He kissed her again and felt her bare toes curl to gain purchase.

All of her responded to the pressure of his mouth. She was as light and supple as a willow, arching beautifully as delicious sensation pulled her taut.

He cupped her bottom, pulling her closer until her warm cleft cradled him. Her fingers pressed whitely into his shoulders when she felt the hard length of him against her thighs. Her faint gasp was caught by his mouth. His palms covered her, rising to the small of her back then falling again. This time she placed herself in the cup of his hands and when he lifted her against him there was no gasp, only a hum of pleasure that tickled his lips and sent a fiery shudder to his groin.

Mercedes's fingers threaded in Colin's bright hair. Even in the murky shadows cast by the lamplight its flaxen brilliance would not be dimmed. Silky strands of it were twisted around her fingers. She brushed his nape with the tips of her nails and felt his reaction strike a chord in her as well. In the beginning she had imagined she was the spider and he was the fly. Now she was not so certain who owned the web or if it was even important anymore. They were both caught in it.

Colin broke the kiss. Mercedes lowered her head and rested her brow against his shoulder. He could hear her light breathing and feel the steady thrum of her heart. She turned her face to the side and lay her cheek flat on the lapel of his jacket. His mouth lightly touched the crown of her head. He held her loosely now, the need to pace himself governing his responses.

Was it finished? she wondered. She felt shaky and light and strangely restless. His kisses had nearly devoured her and now.... Mercedes raised her face. She couldn't know that the color of her eyes was like smoke and the centers were nearly as large and as black as the ones that mirrored her gaze. When she lifted her mouth to his, Mercedes was not thinking only of the papers that lay beneath Colin's bed, waiting to be discovered if she should falter. There were other reasons, intimately selfish ones, that prompted her to act as she did.

Colin returned the kiss only lightly.

She stared at him, puzzled. "Is it because I'm on your toes again?"

He shook his head. "It's because if you touch me I'm likely to come out of my skin." Her eyes grew wide at this and he was reminded that for all her siren's ways she was really an innocent. "It's a compliment," he told her.

"Oh."

It was only a soft expulsion of air, yet it had the impact of the stamp of her mouth on his. "God," he whispered. Nothing could prevail upon him to stop now. He lifted Mercedes and bore her down on the bed.

The change of positions altered her perceptions. Even standing on his toes she believed she had been on equal footing. Now, stretched beside her, he loomed more largely. The weight of him could be felt across her legs where he covered them with his thigh. His hands had caught her wrists and pinned them back lightly. As gentle as the pressure was, she could no more escape it than she could iron manacles.

He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. There was only a faint arcing mark left by the tail of the earl's quirt. The damp trail made by the edge of his tongue was hotter on Mercedes's skin than her memory of the whip's slash and sting. She cried out, arching with the ache his touch opened in her. "Colin," she said.

He brushed the corner of her mouth with his. "Say it again."

She didn't hesitate. "Colin."

His mouth descended to the curve of her neck. His teeth found one tail of the scarlet ribbon and he tugged. Colin released her wrists so his fingers could slip into her hair. The fragrance of lavender tempted him.

Mercedes held her breath as his fingertips slipped past her temples and brushed her cheek. The touch was reverent. Adoring. He sifted through her hair, raising thick locks of it then letting it cascade around his fingers and past his wrist.

Raising himself on one elbow, Colin nudged the straps of Mercedes's shift over her shoulders. His hand traced the length of her collarbone. He bent to kiss the hollow of her throat.

The material hovered at the level of her breasts. He pushed it out of the way.

The sight of his mouth lowering over her nipple was dizzying. But what he said robbed Mercedes of all feeling.

"How much is it costing me to lie between your thighs?"

Chapter 8

Mercedes pushed at Colin's shoulders. His lips only grazed her breast. She twisted and tried to remove herself from the arm and leg that pinned her. His casual hold tightened, but he raised his head and looked at her. "Why did you say that?" she whispered.

He didn't answer but studied her instead. Lamplight washed her features, highlighting the pared shape of her nose and the perfect curve of her mouth. Her chin was raised slightly, but the effect was only to offer the slim length of her neck up for his punishment or his pleasure. He considered throttling her. What he did was kiss her.

Colin's mouth touched the base of her throat. His tongue dipped in the hollow. He felt her small gasp as a vibration against his lips. Her fingers fluttered on his shoulders and she pushed but there was no real force behind the movement. His kisses slipped lower, tracing the length of her collarbone, then sliding to her breast. He captured one nipple and sucked.

Mercedes's breath caught as sensation spiraled through her.

It was only when he felt her arch beneath him that he lifted his mouth. "You haven't answered my question," he said.

For a second time she went rigid beneath him. It lasted only a second. Her hands came up and she hammered his chest and shoulders so that he had no choice but to pin back her arms. Mercedes's heels ground into the mattress for leverage and she pushed herself up, almost dislodging him as she twisted. This near success gave her reason to try again. And again.

Colin only had to wait her out. In the end she had not so much surrendered as simply been exhausted. Her breathing came harshly to his ears but she had managed to compose her features. Only the small vertical crease between her finely drawn brows exposed her distress. There was no expression save watchfulness in her clear gray eyes.

"Don't insult me," he said in a low voice.

"I don't know what you mean."

Colin tightened his grip on her wrists. It was only when he saw her wince that he realized what he was doing. The pressure was eased immediately but he didn't release her. "Don't do this, Mercedes. Tell me."

Her throat was clogged by the unfamiliar ache of tears. There was nothing she could have said in that moment.

Taking her silence as refusal and her dry-eyed stare as defiance, Colin swore softly. "Must you ever have your back to the wall?" he asked. "I
saw
you putting the ledger away and all that came after that."

Mercedes turned her face from him. She could not hold back her small despairing cry.

"Does that make it easier for you to admit what you've done?" Colin said. He let go of her wrists and eased himself beside her, taking her face lightly in his hands. With the gentlest pressure he made her look at him. His thumb traced the underside of her lip. Her silky hair brushed the back of his hands like gossamer threads. Colin's voice was quiet, husky. "The only thing that's changed is that you know I know."

She bit her lower lip. His mouth on hers made her stop. He kissed her once. Twice. Then a third time, more deeply, searching for the response she had given him before. Her lips softened slightly, parted. The tip of her tongue touched his before he withdrew.

"Mercedes?" He said her name quietly, attaching no further demand. She would know it was there whether he said it or not.

"Two thousand pounds," she said. She stared at him, waiting for a reaction: a gasp, a shout, an epithet. Something. There was nothing. Colin didn't so much as twitch.

"Very well," he said. He released her, sat up, and levered himself to the edge of the bed. Upon getting out, he scooped the two pieces of paper from beneath the bed and carried them to the desk. Her raised the lid, removed the ledger, then made a notation in the tally of accounts for two thousand pounds. "Should I make this draft to you?" he asked.

Mercedes was sitting up now. She had lifted the straps of her shift to cover her breasts but somehow it still didn't seem enough. Reaching for one corner of the coverlet, she brought it up to shield her. "Ashbrook and Deakins."

Colin made the note then closed the ledger. He put it and the crumpled letter away. He jabbed his pen once in the inkwell before he smoothed the blank, watermarked draft on the desktop. His hand moved quickly across the paper, the writing heavy and bold with no flourishes or elaboration. "And these gentlemen would be..." He let his sentence trail off purposefully.

Mercedes recalled what her uncle had said, but it made no sense to tell Colin they were merchants. What could she ever show that two thousand pounds had purchased? "They're solicitors," she said. It was a safer answer because she would not have to produce anything. What was the outcome of contact with any lawyer save for mountains of paper, all of it stamped with the peculiar language of the legal trade?

Colin nodded and continued writing. "The address of their office?"

Mercedes gave him the location of her uncle's London townhouse. The lies settled uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach as she watched Colin write.

He signed his name with a few spare lines and laid aside the pen. He looked at the draft a moment longer before he turned to Mercedes. "Do you want to see it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I trust you," she said. Mercedes ducked her head when she felt the sharp edge of his narrow, derisive smile.

"Would that I could say the same of you."

It struck her then that he was not so scornful as he was resigned, perhaps even sad. She spared him a glance, but the dark eyes were implacable and it was easy to believe she had mistaken or misinterpreted his tone. Mercedes moved to the edge of the bed. "I'll go now," she said quietly.