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have you think otherwise." He kissed her again, a slight peck. "Wait right here."

He crossed the room, took his jacket off the back of his chair, and

put it on, giving the short lapels a snap. Then he turned the knob on the paraffin lamp. The soft glow that was in the room faded leaving the

lights from the town square as illuminations, casting long shadows across the floor.

"I thought you wanted us to…to…meet in your office again." Her cheeks burned as played with the buttons on the wrist of her gloves,

thankful he couldn't see her clearly.

"Oh, no. Not that again."

She craned her neck to look at him as he offered her his elbow.

He caught her glance. "Not that it wasn't pleasant, but I've other

things in mind for tonight."

"Other things?"

"Yes, like food, and conversation. And then I'd like to see you,

completely unclothed, a feast of skin on my bed. I hope you made

excuses for the next five hours."

"The next five hours?" Her voice wavered, her thoughts flipping like thrown cards trying to think up something to tell her mother.

"At least."

She had thought maybe two hours at the most. Her panic was

followed by recriminations of getting involved and with the knowledge

that her ilk had nothing in common with men like him. Nothing would

come of this but a broken heart, but when she looked at him and her

whole chest squeezed, how could he not be worth it? "Oh."

He opened the door, closing it behind him as he guided her out.

"Did you?"

"Did I?"

He chuckled. "Make adequate excuses?"

"Oh, yes. I told my mother I was meeting you here first and that you would be interviewing me for a secretary position you had available, and then visiting a friend." She just didn't mention that it was what she would 119

D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

be telling her mother, not had told her mother. She didn't dwell on it.

Frustration at her even having to make her whereabouts known only

angered her. She was an adult, and still answering to others.

His laugh echoed through the vacant hallway. "Something like that."

Instead of taking her out the front doors he brought her the opposite

way down the marble hall and after a few turns was a door which opened

to the alley behind the bank.

She questioned their exit for a moment, wondering why the front

entrance was insufficient, but left it, deciding that he knew where they were going and therefore the best way to get there.

The night was dark and crisp with the promise of snow in the air.

She hoped it didn't come tonight because it would make getting home

atrocious and she hadn't thought to wear sturdy boots.

He hailed a hansom cab which thrilled her. She would have walked

with him, but the less time they wasted on getting wherever they were

going, the more time she had to spend with him.

Alone together. Finally.

* * * *

After all this time he would bringing her to Knob Hill, his home, not

the brownstone. He didn't realize when he started thinking on a more

permanent basis, but he did. And he refused to analyze it. All he wanted to think about was the pleasure that lay ahead of them.

They would, for the very first time since they had been

rendezvousing, be naked. That was an image that brought him to

attention. He planned on having her sprawled across the bed for the most part of the night.

Because he sent the servants home early he would have to help

dress her back in all those damnable layers of corset and bustle, but

playing the ladies' maid didn't bother him in the least. He was proud of his accomplishments in that particular area. He always thought that if

purchased, he should know how to put it on a woman.

He opened the door of the hansom and took her hand as she stepped

out, then led her up the stairs into the house.

She unbuttoned her coat without a word, and he hung it for her. He

stopped a minute to let her take it all in, hoping that when he offered it all to her she would be unable to resist. The carpenters just finished, and he still was admiring it himself. He had taken some ideas from the

Prestons', but made specifications all his own.

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FORTUNE'S FOOL

She peered out from under her hat while she removed her pin. "It's

quite lovely."

"Thank you, I've had it remodeled in the last few weeks. I'd hoped

you would like it."

"You've succeeded, I do." She placed her hat on the bench and stood with her hands clasped in front of her.

He could see she was nervous, and more than anything he wanted

her to be at ease. He could only think of one thing. What made him most

comfortable.

"Take off your shoes," he said, as he sat on the edge of the bench and unlaced his boots.

She stood and stared at him, dumbfounded. "Pardon?"

"Take your shoes off. I hate wearing shoes while I'm at home.

Unless I'm entertaining, I never wear shoes at home." He smiled. "Even when I play poker. I tell them it's my good luck charm." He settled his boots against the wall trim and wiggled his toes. "Come on," he patted the bench, "off they go."

She balked.

"Fine then, I insist. I just had my floors refinished and the water from your boots will ruin them. Off. Now."

She snickered. "Really?"

"I insist. Don't insult your host."

"I wouldn't think to insult my host." She perched on the corner and held out her foot to him. He laughed as he plopped her booted foot onto

his lap and threw up her skirt. She gasped, then burst out laughing. Her smile lit up her face as he slipped the boot off, letting it clunk on the floor, moments later tossing its mate next to it.

He stood and kissed her then, taking her elbow, showed her into the

dining room where he had asked for a buffet to be set up. She walked

next to him, her shoulder touching his, a grin on her face.

There were plates stacked on the sidebar and he took one and gave it

to her, then took one himself. He'd asked for some easy foods that they

could eat all night, especially if they came back down for snacks.

He made sure she had at least a bit of food on her plate and he

brought glasses and wine to the table, uncorking it and filling them with a cabernet he liked.

It was strange sitting next to her at a table like this, informal and

intimate. By far it was the nicest dinner in a long time, and the most

anticipated. Not for the fucking afterwards either, but the whole of

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D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

spending the evening with her. The only thing that he didn't like was that at some point it would have to end. He would prefer if he could go to

bed, and wake up with her. To not have to pull out of her when he

climaxed. Somehow before he never felt the loss of that. Even more

strange was not realizing his feelings about it had changed. All he knew was that he didn't want to start his day without seeing her over the

breakfast table, and end it by holding her naked body to his.

"Would dinner qualify as payment for another palm reading?" He placed his fork and knife down onto the plate.

She pointed her fork at him and grinned. "It is delicious. I suppose I could tell your fortune for you."

She winked and he started to laugh. Her personality was so faceted,

he could never tell which side she would show next, and they all

entranced him. She put her utensils down and held out her hand,

beckoning him to give her his.

He slipped out his cufflinks and rolled up his shirtsleeve, offering

her his palm.

"Last time though, alright?"

"Why?"

"Because I can't give you an accurate reading now, we've become

too intimate and I can't be objective."

"That's a reason I can live with, and I'll be perpetuating."

She arched her brow, "Really?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll have to see how true that statement is."

She scooted forward and leaned in over his hand, spreading his

fingers with hers, just like she had done every other time. And like every other time, the nerves in his hands acted as if there were an invisible

string attached to his cock. At this rate he'd never be able to hold her hand without getting hard. He took a deep breath and concentrated on

pacing himself.

"I want you to tell me about my love life."

She looked up at him, a shadow of concern crossing her face.

"What do you see?"

She blinked and looked back down, furrows creasing her brow. He

would have to admit, it wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever said to her.

He'd soothe her fears soon enough.

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FORTUNE'S FOOL

Once he made the decision he went and bought an emerald cut

sapphire set in a circle of diamonds, and it sat upstairs, in the bottom of a champagne glass.

Now all he had to do was get her up there.

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D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

Chapter Eight

Before when Caden asked her to read his palm it was a playful thing

where he would seduce her. Never before had he asked like this. She

knew she was setting her heart out to be trampled on, and apparently her time had come.

He needed to marry. She just never thought it in him to be so

indelicate with it. She knew he didn't love her, but she thought at least he cared enough to not do this. Or maybe this is what people of his station did? Maybe she should know her position and expect to be asked such

things?

"Come on, what do you see?"

She pulled her hand away, "I'm sorry, I can't. Not tonight."

"Why?"

His genuine puzzlement confused her and her heart squeezed. "I'm

not objective, I said."

He looked down at her hand and brought it to his lips and gave it a

feather light kiss. His sweetness made her throat knot, as if she was

trying to swallow stale bread.

"I messed it up, didn't I?" He kissed her hand again.

"Messed what up?"

"I was hoping you would see us in my hand, but somehow I have

the feeling you didn't think that did you?"

Her heart started to beat wildly in her chest, part relief and still a

portion of remorse. "No, I didn't think that's what you meant." She couldn't do this to herself anymore.

"You thought I meant to ask about another woman?"

She searched his face and realized that the thought never occurred to

him. She traced the pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. "I know you need someone you can be proud of, that's in your social circle." She met his eyes. She tried to sound funny but it just came out sounding like

cracked glass.

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FORTUNE'S FOOL

"I never planned on marrying any time soon. But if that's what you

want?"

No. More than anything it was what she wanted, but there were

many things she wanted and couldn't have. He didn't hold any respect for her gifting or her family's. Although it wasn't something she proclaimed from the rooftops, that didn't mean she didn't believe in it.

Even though he teased her all the time wanting readings, she knew it

was a ploy he used to get closer to her. It would be different if he had to present her as his wife when she had already been to all of their houses as the entertainment. Abigail the fortune teller now as Mrs. Caden

Dupree. Of course he's say that it was all fine until one of the wives

asked that Abby read her their palm. Then all hell would break lose. He

would never allow her to real palms the way she did now, and eventually

it would distance her from her family and she would never slight her

mother in such a callous way.

There was no middle ground between them.

It was the right thing to do, but why did it have to hurt so much.

She knew then that she needed to be strong enough to leave. And

she would end it tonight, because her heart could not take the pain of

seeing him one more day.

He stood up and threw his napkin onto the table, then pulled her up

and to him. "I'm sorry, this has not gone like I planned. Let me make it up to you."

She gathered her pittance of courage and smiled. "Come into my

parlor said the spider to the fly." Oh, her heart would be trampled tonight for sure. Maybe she should even leave now, because the fist squeezing

her chest was almost unbearable.

His eyes got a wicked gleam. "Yes, I would love to eat you."

Every shred of self-preservation she was grasping onto scattered

like ashes in the wind. Not that she had to be convinced or seduced into sleeping with him. All he had to do was crook his finger. It was

emotional suicide how she danced to his tune, but she couldn't help it.

After tonight he wouldn't be hers to tease and kiss, and greed? Greed was a powerful motivation.

"Lead the way into your parlor,
Monsieur
Spider."

He took her hand and led her up the stairs, her expectations fueling

every step. If this was going to be her last night with him, she would

make sure that it was a wonderful memory for them both.

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D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

The room glowed with firelight. He stood her at the bed's edge and

started taking out her hairpins, letting them fall to the floor. He turned her around and unbuttoned her shirtwaist, peeling it off her arms and

folding it then setting it on the bench he had at the end of the bed. All the way down to her corset he unwrapped her like a candy and started to kiss her neck. She shivered, leaning her head back so he could have more,

relishing the feeling of sparks dancing on her skin. She'd been waiting all day for him to love her, and anticipation could be the most powerful of

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