Lady Be Good (5 page)

The way he lingered over that last word—his Texas drawl stroking it with slow molasses—sent a shiver up her spine.

Suddenly, without any conscious direction, her mind began to race. Sex for hire? Had she just been given the answer to all her troubles? Her stomach clenched. No. It was unthinkable. Impossible.

But why? She only had two weeks to escape the net the despicable Hugh Holroyd had woven so tightly around both her and St. Gert’s, and this would be far more scandalous than a tattoo.

She considered the possibility that Francesca had chosen Kenny Traveler as her guide for just this reason. Francesca didn’t know about Holroyd’s plans, but she did know something else—how much Emma regretted her limited experience with men.

One afternoon several months ago, they’d shared tea at Emma’s cottage on the grounds at St. Gert’s, and Francesca’s openness regarding her own painful passage into maturity had allowed Emma to reveal something of her own past. Francesa already knew how much Emma loved St. Gert’s, which was the only home she’d ever known. At the same time, being raised in a girl’s school had restricted her contacts with men.

Even when she’d gone to the university, things hadn’t improved much. Her mother’s death had left her virtually penniless, so she’d been forced to work hard. Between her job and her studies, there’d been little time left over for a social life, and most of the men she found attractive were intimidated by her. They seemed to prefer a softer sort of female, one who was milder-mannered and less inclined to take charge.

She knew it would have been more sensible for her to have accepted a teaching position in London after she’d graduated, but St. Gert’s was her home, and the old place drew her back. Unfortunately, the pool of eligible men in the small town of Lower Tilbey was limited, and she seemed to inspire their respect rather than their passion.

She had just begun to resign herself to a single, childless existence when she’d hired Jeremy Fox to fill the vacancy her appointment as headmistress had left in the history department. Within a few months, she’d fallen in love with him. Jeremy was kind, good-humored, and attractive in the scholarly, rumpled fashion that had always appealed to her. Unfortunately, he was also her subordinate, but they had so many interests in common that a friendship had formed anyway.

She’d let herself be satisfied with their comfortable companionship until a drizzly day last November when she’d spent several hours with a homesick six-year-old curled in her lap. The gloomy weather combined with her upcoming thirtieth birthday and the feel of the little girl’s head tucked under her chin had overcome both her common sense and her professionalism. She’d gone to Jeremy’s rooms that evening and, as subtly as possible, indicated that her feelings for him went beyond friendship.

One look at his appalled expression told her she’d made a terrible mistake. He’d been suffocatingly kind as he let her know that he wasn’t attracted to her in any way other than as a friend.
“You’re so strong, Emma. Such a leader.”

She’d known it wasn’t a compliment, and a short time later, she’d been forced to smile through his wedding to a pretty, twenty-one year-old shop girl who didn’t know the Magna Carta from the Maginot Line.

Emma remembered Francesca’s sympathetic expression when she’d told her about Jeremy. “So, you’re still a virgin,” Francesca had said succinctly.

Emma had been embarrassed. “Well, I’ve dated certainly. And there were several times when I . . .” She gave it up. “Yes. Quite right. Embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Not at all. You’re just discriminating.”

But despite Francesca’s kind words, Emma felt like a freak. Still, hiring a man for sex would never have occurred to her if it weren’t for Hugh Holroyd, Duke of Beddington. After weeks of agonizing over how to save her school, could the solution be so simple? And so difficult?

She needed to know more. “Your sexual services . . .” She cleared her throat. “What exactly do they involve?”

His beer bottle stalled halfway to his lips, and the smile that had been hanging there faded. He stared at her for a long moment, then opened his mouth to speak. Shut it. Opened it again. Took a swig of beer.

She watched the muscles in his throat work as he swallowed. He was obviously surprised, and she could almost read his thoughts. He’d believed she was too conservative to hire him for sex, and he regretted having reduced his price so quickly.

He set his beer on the deck. “Uh . . . anything the customer wants.”

Her mind whirled with possibilities, and she had to force her thoughts into line. She couldn’t consider this emotionally; she had to approach it logically, and there were practicalities to consider.

“What about diseases?” Making eye contact with him was impossible, so she pretended to study the bubbles.

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he did, although his voice sounded as if some beer might have gone down the wrong pipe. “I practice one hundred percent safe sex.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Ninety-five percent. It’s like Torie always says: ‘To live is to risk.’ But I’m sure not carrying any fatal diseases, if that’s what you want to know. How about you?”

“Me?” She lifted her head. “No. Absolutely not.” Once again, she dropped her gaze. Through the bubbles, she glimpsed skin and wondered how much of her he could see. “This is purely commerce? Handled professionally?”

“I, uh, offer a money back guarantee.”

“And the—the customer would dictate how the . . . encounter would go?”

He seemed to be thinking that over. “The customer dictates the parameters. I dictate the particulars. For example, if the lady has any particular fetishes—”

“Oh, no. None.” Her only fetish was the desire to make love with a man who loved her, and that was something Kenny Traveler couldn’t provide. Just sex.

“—or if, for example, the customer said something like, ‘Kenny, honey, I want you to handcuff me—’ ”

Her head shot up.

“—then I’d go along with that because it’s a parameter, but the order of events after those handcuffs get snapped on is pretty much up to me.”

“I—I see.” She could feel bright red patches burning in her cheeks. Was she really considering doing this? Letting Kenny Traveler take her virginity would certainly be a lot more effective than getting a tattoo. He was the perfect man for the job—physically irresistible, but so foreign to her concept of a soul mate that she wouldn’t have to deal with any emotional scars afterward. She could get it over with and then forget it.

“I should tell you that I won’t wear female underwear or use a whip. The ladies do enjoy a little light bondage, of course, so there’s no problem with that. I mean, I’d be pretty much out of business without those handcuffs I was talking about, so I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“You handcuff women?” She was shocked. Not that it happened, but that the practice was so widespread. “Oh, no.”

“Now, don’t get too judgmental. I didn’t think I’d like it either until the first time I snapped those suckers around a pair of—Well, I’m not saying any more. If that’s not to your particular tastes, then we’ll just try something else.”

She drew a deep breath. She didn’t need a flashing neon arrow pointing the way to realize this could be the answer both to her own freedom and to saving St. Gert’s. So why did she feel like crying?

She mustered her courage. She’d known when she started this trip that her life would never be the same again. Without giving herself any more time to think about it, she nodded. “All right, then. Yes. That sounds satisfactory.”

He blinked. “It does?”

“Tonight would be fine.”

“Tonight?”

She finally managed to look at him. “Do you have another engagement?”

“Oh, no. Tonight’s just fine with me.”

She was relieved. If she had too long to dwell on what was going to happen, she’d go mad. She forced herself to focus on the practical. “Do you take traveler’s checks?”

His regular customers obviously were more worldly than she because her inquiry made him grin. She regarded him coolly until he pulled in the corners of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Plus American Express and Visa. I can even handle Diners Club, although it wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“I have traveler’s checks.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, do we?”

“No. No, we don’t.”

More than anything, she wanted to get out of the hot tub and hide away in her room upstairs, but she was stark naked and trapped. Her stomach felt queasy and her mouth was dry. She closed her eyes and sank farther down into the water.

From the other side of the hot tub, Kenny watched Lady Emma’s shoulders disappearing into the bubbles. She licked her lips nervously, and, as the pink tip of her tongue swept along the crease of her mouth, he felt as if he were going to explode. He couldn’t believe this. When he’d started talking about fees, he’d just been messing around, having a little fun. Not for a moment had he thought she’d believe him. But she was one serious woman.

Here he’d given himself a couple of days to seduce her, and it hadn’t taken much more than twenty minutes. He’d always been good with women, but this was a record.

As he gazed at the water swirling around the base of her neck, he felt a moment’s hesitation. Then he remembered how bossy and controlling she was, his least favorite kind of woman, and his hesitation disappeared. Lady Emma wasn’t any dewy-eyed virgin, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

He could just imagine what her lovers were like, probably a bunch of old guys with names like Rupert and Nigel. They let her make all the calls, didn’t give her any trouble, and didn’t give her any thrills, either. But she was on vacation now, where there was no one around to tattle, and she had a hankering to get laid by someone who still had his own teeth. He was happy to oblige.

Her lids opened and she met his eyes. “I want to keep a light on.”

He certainly didn’t have a problem with that. “All right.”

“No cigarettes.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“Brandy, I think. Or perhaps some sherry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And music. Classical would be best. Baroque, I believe.”

Damn. She was giving him a list, and he had to put a stop to it before she got right down to the color of the sheets. “No music. Keeps me from concentrating on all those nice erogenous zones.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “All right, then. No music.” She looked down at the water. “I probably should tell you I’m ticklish.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.”

“And I’m a bit claustrophobic, so the position might be important to dis—”

“Excuse me for interrupting here, but let me point out that I
am
a trained professional.”

“Oh . . . yes.” She bit that lip again. “One more thing. After it’s over, Mr. Traveler, we won’t discuss it.”

With a sigh of satisfaction, he sank back into the water. “Lady Emma, you just turned into every man’s fantasy.”

E
mma had bought sex. She still couldn’t believe what
she’d done. After a lifetime of propriety, she had turned her back on everything she believed in.

“You can look now,” he said.

She felt like a fool. As soon as he’d begun lifting himself out of the tub, she’d dipped her head like a skittish old maid. Why couldn’t she have been blasé and sophisticated about it? He certainly wasn’t self-conscious about his body. And it was only natural for her to want to see it. Quite badly.

Now she did and her mouth went dry. He’d wrapped a towel around his hips, and the knot fell low, inches below his navel. Trickles of water slithered like tiny fingers down his chest and along the flat plane of his abdomen. He had a beautiful body, and she had hired it for the night.

“Cold?”

She looked up. “Pardon?”

“You shivered.”

“Oh . . . yes, I am getting a bit chilly. Would you mind fetching me a towel, then?” She narrowed her eyes. “That is, if there’s no extra charge.”

He gave her the devastating grin he’d undoubtedly been using to demolish women since the cradle. He was absolutely unprincipled. But that made him perfect for what she needed.

The moment he disappeared through the glass doors, she hurried from the hot tub and pulled on her robe. “Never mind,” she called out to him as soon as she’d fetched her bathing suit and stepped inside.

She rushed upstairs, gathered her toiletries, and carried them into the bathroom. Tonight she would take a giant step toward her freedom and the safety of St. Gert’s.

Kenny conned Lady Emma into fixing dinner as soon as she came downstairs from her nap. All he needed to do was mention that eating in would save her money, but the truth was, he didn’t want her to be around other people right now. It might bring her to her senses.

For once she wasn’t giving orders as she pulled out some chicken cutlets from the freezer, then began fixing a salad, while he made a big deal out of scrubbing a couple of potatoes and putting them in the oven.