Pleasure Me (21 page)

The sound of someone muttering a desperate prayer in his ears jerked Garrick awake. As he shot upright, he glanced around the room half expecting to see his younger self curled up on the floor against the wall. Christ Jesus. He’d not remembered that night with Bertha so vividly for years.

Desperately, he shoved the past into the recesses of his mind, but it refused to stay there as the liquor he’d consumed stripped him of his ability to control his thoughts coherently. Instead, the memories rose up to taunt him with the same humiliating intensity he’d experienced so long ago. With a growl of fury, he stumbled to his feet and staggered toward the door.

He’d learned his lesson. One time was more than enough when it came to baring himself to a woman. Ruth’s image fluttered into his head. Not even for her could he expose himself. He’d explain himself to her then walk out of her life forever. Once again, derisive laughter filled his head. Only this time the sound wasn’t from the past. It was a mocking shout of amusement at the idea that he could part with Ruth so easily.

She persisted in her refusal to see him. What did he expect? That she’d be eager to see him after the way he’d humiliated her? And it had been nothing short of that. He’d had plenty of time over the last two weeks to think about those short moments after he’d pushed himself away from her. His words had haunted him since then.

His attempt to make her understand his reason for not making love to her could only be described as bumbling at best. The inept way he’d tried to explain his lack of sexual experience in the face of her seductive skills had only made things worse. In his efforts to account for his actions, he’d used words he was certain she’d misunderstood.

While he knew his inexperience in the bedroom wasn’t the primary reason for rejecting her touch, it had been the best excuse he could come up with at the time. He was certain she’d interpreted his explanation as something completely different than his intent. There was no doubt in his mind that her sensitivity about her own age and the difference between them in years had been the cause she’d give his rejection. His words had been ill chosen. He clenched his jaw as he stared out the carriage window.

For the past two weeks, he’d done everything he could to see her. The flowers he’d sent every day with his note of apology were always returned. He’d known better than to insult her with jewelry, but desperation had taken hold of him three days ago. In hopes of at least securing the opportunity to explain himself, he’d commissioned white tulip earrings to match the brooch he’d given her.

They’d been promptly returned to the Crown Jeweler, who had immediately forwarded the earrings to him, along with the bill. All of it had made him even more disheartened. It was a state that made him irritable as hell, but had not stopped him from seeking her forgiveness.

He’d convinced himself that he was simply attempting to right a wrong, but he knew there was something much more troubling at the heart of his efforts. He’d deliberately refrained from examining the reasons for his crusade and focused all his attention on finding a way to reach out to her. Now he’d resorted to subterfuge. He was only grateful that Dolores had taken pity on him.

The carriage rocked to a halt in the mews behind Ruth’s town house. The darkness of the narrow alley was broken by lanterns hanging outside the stables. He exited the coach and instructed Jasper that he’d find a hansom cab to bring him home. Without waiting for the driver’s acknowledgment, he walked through the gate leading into Ruth’s garden.

There was less light here, and he paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust. In front of him, he saw the light shining from the kitchen door Dolores had left open for him. His stride quick, he closed the distance between him and the house. When he stepped through the open doorway, Dolores jumped as he cleared his throat.

“Lord love me.” Ruth’s companion pressed her hand to her large bosom and shook her head at the sight of him. “You gave me a fright, my lord.”

“My apologies.”

“Well, come in, come in.” She waved him into the warm room and closed the back door behind him before she took his overcoat from him.

“Thank you for taking pity on me, Dolores.”

“I probably shouldn’t, especially when her ladyship seems so distraught by whatever happened between the two of you.”

“I hurt her, and I didn’t mean to. I just need a chance to explain. Something I wouldn’t be able to do if you’d not agreed to help me.”

“Well, you
have
been persistent.” The maid eyed him carefully. “And you’re not like the other gents. You actually seem to care about her, which is the only reason I agreed to help you.”

“I do care about her, Dolores. It’s why I need to see her. I said something that hurt her, and I need to apologize.”

“I only hope her ladyship doesn’t throw me out for letting you in the house.”

“You’ve been with her a long time, Dolores. I doubt she can do without you,” he said with a smile. “But if the worst happens, come to me. I’ll find you a position.”

“I’m not too worried.” The maid snorted softly with amused disdain and pointed toward a darkened doorway. “I think you’ll charm your way back into her ladyship’s good graces. You’d best hurry. I think she was planning on going out this evening.”

With a quick nod, he headed up the back stairs and down the hall toward Ruth’s bedroom. As he stopped in front of her door, panic swelled over him. What the hell was he going to say? He didn’t have the foggiest notion as to how to plead his case with her. Would a man more intimate with women have any difficulty in coming up with a plan? The answer only emphasized his own lack of experience.

He’d been certain he could convince Ruth of his sincerity, but suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything where she was concerned. The risk he was taking by exposing himself to her was enough to make him physically ill. She could easily view it as an amusing tale to share with her friends—Baron Stratfield’s virginal status. Bile rose in his throat at the thought.

Christ Jesus, maybe he should just leave. Even if he managed to earn her forgiveness, in all likelihood he was only complicating matters between them. As he turned away from the door, an image of Ruth settled firmly in his head, followed by the memory of the pained humiliation in her voice. He clenched his jaw and wheeled about on his heel to knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The closed door muffled Ruth’s voice and opened quietly beneath his touch. The room seemed empty at first, until he saw her partially hidden behind the door of her wardrobe. He snapped the door closed then quietly turned the key in the lock and dropped it into his pocket. He didn’t need her calling for Simmons. Hesitation swept through him again.
Now what?

He didn’t have to wait for an answer as she stepped away from the wardrobe. The sight of her made him suck in his breath. She wore a robe similar to the one she’d had on the other night, but to his disappointment the wrapper hid her lovely curves from him. For a moment she stared at him as if he were a ghost. She blinked, and her stunned expression disappeared as cold anger darkened her beautiful face.

“Get
out
of my house,” she enunciated with a quiet hiss of fury.

“I realize you find me despicable, Ruth. But—”

“To find you despicable implies I bother to think of you at all, my lord.” The icy contempt in her voice made him flinch before he narrowed his gaze at her.

“I have an explanation if you will just hear me out.”

“I think you’ve said quite enough already, my lord. The thought of you baring your soul to me any further is not a welcome one.”

Bare his soul to her.
That was a good description of what he was trying to do. He bit down on the inside of his cheek as he walked toward her. Although she didn’t move, there was an air about her that said she would take the first opportunity to flee. Her features revealed nothing as he closed the distance between them to mere inches, but he saw her tremble.

“I don’t like hurting my friends, Ruth, but when I do I make amends.”

“I am
quite
selective in my choice of friends, my lord.” She displayed no emotion, but he heard the bitterness threading its way through her voice. “
You
are not one of them.”

“Damn it, Ruth. If you’d just—”

“Therein lies the problem, my lord.” The sudden smile curving her lips was cold and patronizing. “I have no interest in whatever it is you have to say. I simply want you to
leave
.”

Despite his frustration with her stubborn refusal to show even a small amount of leniency, the scent of her overwhelmed his senses. Mere inches separated them, and she smelled of exotic flowers, enticing and mysterious. An unexpected tension gripped his body. It tightened every one of his muscles until he ached from the sheer intensity of the sensation as he found himself leaning into her.

Their gazes locked, and he swallowed hard at the sudden flash of emotion in her violet eyes. Sweet Jesus, what if she laughed at him—found him a pitiful excuse for a man? Desperately, he struggled with the fear continuing to rise inside him. The last time he’d felt this way had been the night Bertha and his uncle had humiliated him. He forced back the bile rising in his throat and shook his head.

“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said my piece.”

“Well, you can say it to Simmons as he escorts you to the front door,” she snapped as she tried to push past him.

“No,” he growled as he blocked her attempt, and her eyes widened in surprise. Without thinking, he grabbed her arms and jerked her toward him. “You might not be interested in what I have to say, but by God, you’re going to listen. The other night, I came closer to making love to you than I have any other woman. Do you want to know what stopped me?”

“I
know
what stopped you,” she said bitterly. “And I certainly don’t wish to be educated on the subject a second time.”

“Christ Jesus,” he muttered as he breathed in. Her fragrance failed to subdue the fear churning in his gut. He was wavering between desire and panic, and he didn’t know which was worse at the moment. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was—
is
—for me to keep my hands off of you?”

“Your passionate plea is worthy of the stage, my lord. Unfortunately for you, I’ve no interest in the performance.”

With a vicious twist of her body, she broke free of his hold. The instant she was free, she took two quick steps until her back pressed into the mahogany wardrobe behind her. Despite her defiant stance, he saw a hint of fear in her eyes. He winced. Bloody hell, he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. At no other time in his life could he remember ever feeling so helpless. Not even that night in his bedroom with Bertha and his uncle laughing at him had he felt this tormented.

A mix of terror and willpower kept him from closing the space between them. He’d come here to explain, not to complicate the situation by touching her. But damn if those beautiful eyes, wide with turbulent emotion, didn’t make it hard not to do so. He took a deep breath and met her gaze with quiet determination.

“The other night—” His gut twisted painfully, and he almost bent over to retch. He had never imagined it would be this difficult to tell her even a small portion of the truth. He swallowed hard and turned away from her. “I told you I couldn’t . . . that I couldn’t make love to you because of the years of experience between us.”

The sharp breath she sucked in at his statement emphasized how much he’d hurt her. Guilt swept over him as he rubbed the back of his neck. He’d hurt her worse than he realized. He knew Marston’s leaving her for a younger woman had been devastating enough, and he’d only compounded that humiliation.

“You do
not
need to remind me of the age difference between us.” Her voice had all the warmth of winter, and he spun around to face her.

“
Fuck
. Your age had nothing to do with it,” he snarled. “I couldn’t make love to you because I’ve never been with a woman before.”

“
You bastard
,” she gasped as outrage darkened her face. “You must
truly
think me an old fool.”

Stunned, he stared at her in disbelief. She didn’t believe him. The fear rolled back over him again. He’d spilled his guts and for what? What could make her think he’d never made love to a woman before? He clenched his jaw at the look of contempt on her face. This was not going like he’d expected. What the hell had he
thought
was going to happen?

“It
is
the truth,” he growled as he struggled with the fact that she didn’t believe him.

“Is it? Then tell me why Lady Kent says you were the best lover she’s ever had? Then there’s Mrs. Campton who said your touch set her on fire,” she scoffed with fury. “Not to mention the more than a dozen other women I’ve heard sigh over your sexual prowess. And what of the mistress you’ve kept for the last two years?”

He shook his head with incredulity at her words. As he slowly processed her fiery allegations, he remembered a few brief moments with Lady Kent in the Duke of Salisbury’s garden a few years ago. The kisses they’d exchanged had been quite pleasurable, and it had been one of the more difficult situations to extract himself from. The same for Mrs. Campton.