Simply Forbidden (7 page)

“Is there something wrong, Lisette?”

She glanced up from the note to find her father, who had just handed her the message, studying her. “No, Papa, everything is fine.”

He gestured at the paper clenched in her hand. “Lord Swan-field seemed most insistent that he meet with you. Has he developed a tendre for you?”

“I doubt it.” Lisette tried to laugh. “He probably wants to kill me. I can’t see him.”

“Whatever did you do to the poor man?”

Lisette frowned at her father as he took a seat behind his desk. “Don’t you care that he might end my life?”

His smile was angelic. “Swanfield does not strike me as a man who takes offense very easily.”

Lisette sighed and sat down. “I played a trick on him, and I thought I was being very clever. Now I just feel ashamed of myself.”

“What kind of a trick?”

“The kind that is played at the pleasure house.”

“Ah. No man enjoys being sexually manipulated.”

“Or woman, Papa.”

“He manipulated
you
?”

“He … misrepresented himself to me.”

“And that made you angry enough to hurt him.”

Lisette felt like squirming in her seat. “I’m not sure if I was angry or just hurt that he had deceived me as to his sexual tastes.”

“So you saw him at the pleasure house and something about his sexual choices made you want to pay him back.”

“Yes.”

“Does he frequent the top floor?”

“Not as far as I know.” She studied her hands twisted in her lap. “His tastes are not
unattractive
to me; they are simply not what I thought he would indulge in at all.”

“Because he has such a strong personality in his normal life?” He smiled. “You might be surprised how some men and women crave the opposite in private. I’ve seen any number of aristocrats and members of Parliament who like nothing more than to be treated like naughty schoolboys or taken in hand by a strong woman.”

Lisette looked up, surprised by his acumen, and then remembered that he, too, held a financial interest in the pleasure house and knew almost as much about the members’ varied tastes as her mother.

Philip shrugged. “So you tricked him, and now he wants an explanation. I think you owe him one, don’t you?”

“Papa …”

“If he has the ability to hurt you, Lisette, you have the ability to hurt him back. At least allow the man the opportunity to tell you how he feels.”

Lisette bit her lip. “I thought you would support me, not tell me to do something so hard.”

Philip sat back. “Having spent more years of my life than I care to remember not speaking my mind and building up resentments and hatred, I’m scarcely going to support your desire to hide from the consequences of your actions, am I?”

“I suppose not.” Lisette got to her feet. “But if he strangles me and dumps my broken body in the Thames, I hope you’ll be sorry.”

“If that should happen, I’ll cry buckets at your funeral, I promise.”

“But you don’t think it will, do you?”

Philip’s smile was full of understanding. “Darling, he might be angry with you, but in order to feel angry he has to feel
something
and my guess is that he cares about your opinion of him.”

“Don’t say that. Now I feel even guiltier.”

“Good, then meet him in the morning and I promise to send a search party after you if you haven’t returned by midday.”

Lisette paused at the doorway to study her father. “You are not exactly a conventional man, are you?”

His smile was slow. “I married your mother. How on earth could I be?”

She smiled back at him even as her courage faltered when she contemplated her meeting with Lord Swanfield. “Good night, Papa.”

“Good night, my dear.”

Lisette headed for bed, knowing that her chances of sleeping were miniscule but determined to try. She had much to think on before the morning and perhaps as she tossed and turned she might come up with something useful to say to a probably furious Lord Swanfield.

G
abriel barely had the opportunity to climb the steps of the Knowles townhouse before the door was flung open and Miss Ross appeared, attired in a dark green riding habit and brown boots. Either his previous remarks about her lack of punctuality had borne fruit or she wanted to get her meeting with him over with all speed. He bowed and took off his hat, but before he could utter a word, she swept past him onto the flagstone pavement.

Mather, his groom, greeted her cheerfully. “Good morning, miss. This is Lavender. She’s a nice horse, and she won’t give you any trouble.”

“Thank you.” Miss Ross smiled brightly and gathered the voluminous skirt of her riding habit. Before Mather could step forward to help her, Gabriel was at her side. He cupped his hands to form a step.

“May I help you, Miss Ross?”

She hesitated for only a second before placing her foot in his hands and allowing him to toss her into the saddle. While he
fiddled with her stirrups and watched her settle into her seat, he didn’t dare look up at her face. Not for the first time in his life he was uncertain how to proceed. He felt as callow as a schoolboy and twice as awkward. She’d seen him half naked and pleading for release, and, despite his anger, he couldn’t blame her for reacting the way she had. He deserved her contempt. God knew, he hated himself enough for both of them.

After ascertaining that all was well with Miss Ross, Gabriel mounted Wellington and they set off at a slow walk toward the not-too-distant park. Luckily, at this hour of the morning there was a lull between the activities of those rushing to provision the great houses of the upper-classes and the emergence of the fashionable from those houses.

Because of the trailing feathers on her hat and the angle of her head, he couldn’t quite see Miss Ross’s expression, but she seemed remarkably unperturbed. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. Perhaps she was one of those women who smiled as she ripped out your heart or kicked you in the balls.

They reached the park, and he was pleased to note that despite the fine spring weather, there were very few people about. After a quick glance at Miss Ross, he encouraged his horse into a trot and she followed suit leaving Mather behind. When Gabriel pulled up, they were in a much quieter area of the extensive grounds, shaded by massive oak trees and grassy slopes. Gabriel took a deep breath and turned to Miss Ross. It occurred to him that he’d rather face a firing squad than her righteous disgust and disdain.

“Would you care to dismount and walk among the bluebells, Miss Ross?”

“That would be delightful, sir.”

With a quick prayer to a God he no longer quite believed in, Gabriel dismounted and tied Wellington’s reins to a tree, then turned to help Miss Ross down. She moved easily into his arms,
and, as he inhaled the glorious scent of her skin, he barely resisted the temptation to pull her close. He set her back on her feet as quickly as he could and moved away from her.

As she started to walk, her skirts stirred up the sharp, peppery scent of the bluebells. It reminded him of his home up north and his mother’s smiling face as she gathered armfuls of the flowers to sell at the market.

“I owe you an apology, my lord.”

Gabriel’s head snapped up and he found himself staring into Miss Ross’s hazel eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

She half grimaced. “No, sir, I am begging yours.”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Why?”

“Because what I did to you the other night was childish and unforgivable.”

“Hardly childish, Miss Ross.”

“I
reacted
like a child. I should have stopped and thought about my actions before I put you in that position.”

He looked away from her, focused on one of the flower stems, and counted each individual bluebell trumpet. “I’m sure you noticed that I enjoyed being in that position. I came more than once.”

“And I enjoyed watching you come.”

He had to face her now, had to see if she was mocking him. “Then why are you apologizing? You achieved your aim: you made a fool of me and showed me up for the hypocrite I am.”

She licked her lips, her eyes still fixed on his. “But you aren’t a hypocrite, are you? You only allow the other guests the same pleasures you offered me.”

He stared at her, almost unable to form a coherent sentence, shocked by her all-too-accurate assessment of what she had seen. “Why are you being so sympathetic?”

“Because I’ve had time to think things through, and to try and understand.” She swiped at the bluebells with her riding crop. “I was so angry when I saw you there, letting anyone
touch you, caress you, have you … I felt betrayed, which is ridiculous, I know, because there is nothing truly between us and I’d already told you to leave me alone.”

He took a step toward her. “Of course there is something between us. You must have known I would’ve sought you out again.”

“Would you?” She sighed. “Then you are a braver man than I thought.”

“I don’t fuck anyone there.” He had to be clear on that. She had to understand at least that. “And I don’t let anyone fuck me.”

“I know.” She walked on another few paces, her skirts dragging on the ground and then stopped and looked back at him, her chin raised, her eyes calm. “Marie-Claude told me.”

“Why were you there that first night?”

“Because I was trying to forget you.”

God, he liked that, liked her honesty far more than he was prepared to admit to himself. “I haven’t seen you before,” he persisted, as he tried to puzzle out her motives.

“I haven’t been there for a while and I rarely frequent the higher levels. As I told you, I’ve been trying to behave more appropriately because of Emily’s imminent society debut.”

He studied her for a long moment and she continued to stare back at him, her expression composed, her luscious mouth relaxed. Such a fascinating mix of sophistication and pure sensual woman. A challenge he craved and a prize he wanted to win. He realized he was clenching his fists and slowly relaxed his hands.

“If I did not disgust you, will you meet me there again?”

“Yes, if you like.”

A lick of heat warmed his stomach and groin as he imagined undressing for her again, feeling her mouth on him, getting the chance to pleasure her in return. He bowed low. “I would be honored to serve you.”

She smiled and swept him a curtsey. “I depend on it.”

He walked toward her and took her gloved hand, turned it palm up, and kissed it. “You are an extraordinary woman.”

“And you haven’t apologized to me yet.”

“I thought you said I didn’t need to?”

She glared at him as they skirted the bluebell patch. “What were you intending to do if I hadn’t surprised you like that?”

“If you wish to know the truth, I was still debating between telling you I was sorry and putting you over my knee and spanking you.”

She stopped walking. “Spanking me?”

“I, too, was angry when you left me like that, still coming, unable to do anything but fall to my knees and gasp for air.” He kept hold of her hand. “I spent several very happy hours imagining you over my knee begging my pardon and sobbing.”

“I wouldn’t have sobbed, and you are deliberately distracting me from my first point, which is the apology you owe me.”

He drew her into his arms. “You would’ve sobbed and then I would’ve had to console you. I insist you would’ve enjoyed yourself in the end.” He kissed her closed mouth, kissed her again. “And as I resisted the urge to spank you, surely that is apology enough?”

She pushed him away. “You are just like my brother, sir. He never apologizes to me either.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her back toward the horses. He put her up into the saddle and then mounted himself. “There is one thing I don’t quite understand, Miss Ross.”

“If we intend to become so intimately connected, you may call me Lisette, my lord.”

“Thank you.” He hesitated, tried to think how to frame his next remark without offending her, and realized it was impossible. “It is unusual to see an unmarried woman at the pleasure house.”

“That is true.”

“Then how is it that you …?”

She turned to look at him. “My mother took me there.”

“Your
mother
?”

Her chin went up another notch. “Didn’t you know? She owns the place. Her name is Helene Delornay.” She stared out between her horse’s ears as if she’d never met him before. “Perhaps that changes your decision to meet with me. She is not exactly considered a respectable person, despite the number of aristocrats who flock to her premises.”

He pondered the slight defensiveness of her tone, and found it intriguing that he recognized it in his own voice when he spoke of his family. “Hardly. My mother was a scullery maid.”

He caught a glimpse of her startled face and kicked his horse into a canter. Why had he said that? He never told anyone about his mother. But at least he’d escaped Miss Ross now. She would either increase her speed or follow him at her leisure. Either way, by the time they reached the exit to the park, the conversation would not be resumed or referred to by him even if she wished to pursue it. He’d much rather think about their next time together at the pleasure house than go over the past.

He waited for her by the gate and avoided her gaze. To his relief when he left her at her door, she said nothing except a cordial thank-you for the ride and an expression of interest in riding with him again. It wasn’t until he rode away that he started to wonder whether her silence had been for his benefit or her own.

He hadn’t exactly made any specific arrangements with her for their next sexual encounter either. But that appealed to him as well and perhaps she realized that. The anticipation of waiting for her to appear at the pleasure house and take him in hand was an erotic experience in itself. He patted his horse and started to grin. He wanted her—and to his utter amazement,
and despite the complications, she wanted him back. He had never thought to start his day in such a perfect manner.

Lisette couldn’t decide what to wear for her next meeting with Lord Swanfield, whom she noted had not asked her to call him Gabriel. She wanted something that was elegant and alluring and, even more important, accessible—without looking like she wished him to tear off her clothes.

Eventually she selected a pale yellow muslin frock with an overskirt of finely embroidered silver gauze and silver lace at the low-cut bosom. When she reached the pleasure house she took her usual route through the kitchen to wish Madame Du-rand a good evening and found Christian lounging by the door. He wore a brown coat and olive waistcoat that brought out the green in his eyes.

When he saw her, he straightened and ran an experienced eye over her outfit. “You look very nice, Lis. Who’s the lucky man?”

“I should imagine you know that by now.” Lisette answered as she patted at her flattened curls. His smiling face hadn’t put her at ease at all. “You are as astute as Maman when it comes to understanding what goes on here.”

Christian held out his hand and patted the bench next to the big pine table. “Lis … will you just stop for a moment and talk to me?”

“Why?”

“Because we are at odds, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Please.”

With some reluctance she went and sat opposite him at the table. “I know what you are going to say, Christian. That Lord Swanfield is not the right man for me, that I cannot meet his sexual needs, but I can. We have discussed it.”

“You might think you understand him, Lis, but are you sure?”

Lisette struggled to find the right words. “Why can’t you trust me to make my own choices? Why do you have to destroy any chance I have to find out my own limits and my own preferences?”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt. I want you to find a decent, simple, straightforward man who doesn’t need to come to this damn place to find sexual gratification.”

“But I’m not a straightforward woman, am I? I’ve already indulged in more sexual activities than almost any unmarried woman of the ton.”

Irritation flickered on Christian’s face. “You don’t have to be like Maman, Lis.”

“I don’t want to be. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You’ve always envied her, and I agree that she is remarkable, but you don’t need to be her.” He half smiled. “You wouldn’t have gotten involved in that scandal-broth with Lord Nash if you hadn’t been trying to emulate Maman’s sexual reputation.”

“That’s not true. I thought I was in love with him.”

Christian sighed. “You mean you were in lust with him. And my point still stands: you were trying to get Maman’s attention. At that point in our existence, we both were.”

Lisette bit back her hasty denial. Was Christian right? Had she romanticized her short relationship with Lord Nash because she couldn’t face the fact that she’d simply been competing with her incomparable mother?

“That might have been true then, but I realized long ago that I could never have survived what our mother did in the Bastille, or single-handedly built a business such as this. I admire her enormously, but I’m not cut from the same cloth.”

“But you still seek out men who are attracted to what she has built here.”

“If you are referring to Lord Swanfield, I didn’t seek him out. I was caught unawares when I found him here.”

He shrugged. “I told you he was a member. In fact, I warned you to keep away from him. You’re not stupid, sister. You came after him, admit it.”

“I’d forgotten what you’d said. I came here to prove to myself that I could find another man who attracted me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lisette stared at her twin. Was Christian right? Had she unconsciously sought out Lord Swanfield and then pretended to be shocked by what she’d seen? She covered Christian’s hand with her own.

“I love you, Christian, but unless you are already in a sexual relationship with Lord Swanfield and wish to argue a prior claim to him, I refuse to discuss him any longer.”

Christian pulled his hand away. “As far as I know, I haven’t fucked him; does that make you feel better?”