Summers, Jordan (8 page)

“You’re hurting me,” Lily cried out, the sound
strained, pain-filled.

He released her and walked to the fireplace. Wood
crackled and spit as the flames enveloped the logs. The library glowed with
warmth, the smell of pine wafted in the air. Lily paced to the center of the
room, worrying her hands. Her father peered into the blaze, his stare distant
as if remembering a far away dream. He rested one arm on the mantle while the
other reached for his glass of brandy. He took a heavy swallow, his lips
thinning as the heat from the liquid burned its way down his throat. Suddenly
as if remembering her presence he spoke, his blue eyes so much like her own,
pinning her in place.

“I shall not be defied on this, daughter. You will not
ruin my plans. It’s bad enough you showed yourself to be of easy virtue, by
dancing with him more than twice, then allowing him to escort you to my side.”
There was a subtle menace in his tone, but something more flicked in his gaze…
worry. If it were the latter, she was sure it wasn’t for her.

“Father, rest assured, I have no designs of aligning
myself with a rake of the first order.” Not with Lord Martins or with Richard,
did she?

No, no absolutely not. If her mother’s circumstances
had taught her one thing, it was that men like Richard could never be trusted
with your heart. But given her father’s present state, he didn’t need to know
Richard had temporarily addled her brain, making her forget her vow.

She didn’t even fully understand why it had occurred.
Only that she couldn’t let it happen again. Lily didn’t need to think about
Richard’s mahogany hair, or his pale skin, or the way his lips felt when they
touched hers. And it was absolutely imperative she forget his strong hands and
how he was able to guide her effortlessly over the dance floor, as if they were
one.

Lily released an exaggerated breath. “No one’s going to
think I’m a lady-bird just because I allowed a rake to escort me from the dance
floor.”

“We’ll soon see. You know how merciless the dowagers
and haughty matrons can be.” Archibald took another drink of brandy. “It took
me several minutes to assure Lord Martins that his place in your favor was
secure. I went so far as to tell him you were with fever tonight. Perhaps that
would work with the ton also… “

“You did what?” Lily gasped in surprise. She clenched
her fists in an attempt to ease her trembling. Anger heated her insides to a
slow boil.

“Silence! I’m doing this for your own good.”

Her own good… humph. Why would her father go to so much
trouble with Martins? Surely he didn’t seriously expect her to align herself
with such a man. His standing in the ton was tenuous at best. She’d respect her
father’s wishes for now, until she had time to speak with her Aunt Margaret,
Duchess of Dreyer. She’d be able to talk some sense into her father.

There was no reason to continue this conversation, what
he said was law. She wasn’t about to admit that she had felt feverish in Lord
Lyon’s presence, but she doubted very much it had anything to do with an
ailment. Her heart sank a little to her knees. Inwardly she chastised herself
for being foolish. It was just a kiss…

“If you wish for me not to allow his suit, then it is
done.” Lily inclined her head. “May I retire now?”

“Of course, run along.” He waved her away with the hand
gripping the drink, amber liquid sloshed onto the thick navy carpet. “I’ll be
going out as soon as the hackney arrives.”

“Tonight, Father?”

“Don’t question me, gel,” he grumbled and his eyes
narrowed as if trying to focus.

Lily walked forward feeling as if her steps led her to
the executioner, instead of her father. She kissed him on the cheek, then left
him to his thoughts. The further down the hall she treaded the more
disappointed she felt. Agitated by her own behavior she strode as ladylike as
her mood would allow, straight to her room.

There was no reason to be upset. It wasn’t as if Lord
Lyon had made a formal request for her hand. He did parade you possessively in
front of the ton.

He’d only suggested if there were a scandal he’d do the
right thing. Hardly terms for considering giving someone your heart. Even if he
had pressed suit Lily would have to deny him on principle. She would not be
saddled to a rake like her mother had been, left alone for nights on end while
he was out gallivanting about the ton, warming the beds of other women.

Rumors of Richard’s prowess tumbled in her mind. Lily’s
body heated as she recalled his wicked exploits. She’d overheard a matron
whispering to one of the dowagers about how Richard’s cock had nearly split her
asunder because of its astounding size. With that thought, heat filled her
stomach and lower still, to her feminine juncture.

She frowned at her own response. Surely the woman had
been exaggerating. Lily waved her hand, dismissing the whole thing as nonsense.
In the end it did not matter, for she and Richard were over before they’d
actually begun.

Lord Lyon had made his intentions clear to everyone at
the ball, and ton-nish people rarely forgot such overt acts. Indeed, they
seemed to notice every detail of every indiscretion quite vividly, much to Lily’s
chagrin. Well she’d have to make it clear to the grand dames that Richard’s
intentions were not her own. It was the only manner left for her to save face.

She’d go along with her father’s idea of her being
feverish that evening, therefore not in her right mind. It chafed Lily to no
end to have to profess such a thing, but the circumstances called for a strong
response. It wouldn’t do to attract any more of the ton’s attention.

Once the uproar died down, she would find herself a
biddable husband who wanted nothing more than hearth and home, a man who would
accept her substantial dowry as recompense for any undesirable murmurings
coming from the ton about her father’s gambling and drinking habits. This of
course didn’t bode well for Lord Martins. She had no intention of changing her
mind about him.

As for Richard, she didn’t need tingles or passionate
kisses. Lily sniffed. They were passing fancies that in time would falter.
Worse came to worst, she’d retire to the country and lead a quiet life, like
she’d always dreamt about. She had enough money to live comfortably outside
society’s reach.

Dealing with Lord Lyon would be much more difficult
from here on out. Lily would have to keep him at arms length, prevent him from
addling her wits. There would be no more walks or dances. And absolutely no
more kissing allowed. She had no idea what she would say or do the next time
she encountered him. But there was no doubt in her mind there would be a next
time.

* * * * *

Richard arrived at Josephine’s a little after two-thirty
in the morning. He couldn’t seem to keep the silly grin off his face. Tonight
he’d kissed Lily and it had been everything he’d hoped for and more. Her
innocence was palpable, along with the passion lying beneath her controlled
surface. He had sensed it before but when she’d returned his kiss it was
confirmed. She had all the qualities he could ever want in a bloodmate. All he
needed now was confirmation.

Richard couldn’t wait until he had her clothing peeled
away and her thighs spread. He would instruct her in the ways of making love.
There was no doubt in his mind, she’d be a quick study. Richard licked his lips
in anticipation. All he had to do was get around Lily’s father. For his and
Lily’s sake, he’d figure out a way.

The doorman once again bid him welcome and opened the
door to Josephine’s. Tonight he was in the mood for a quick game or two of
cards. He felt lucky. Richard entered the parlor containing tables set up for
the various faro and whist games.

He signaled to a butler to bring him a glass of wine
and then proceeded to the nearest table of whist. He’d be able to stomach
enough of the liquid to fit in with those around him. The cards were dealt and
an hour easily slipped by. Richard was winning and it looked as if his luck had
well and truly turned for the better. His back was to the door, when Lord
Archibald Devlin entered the room.

Richard stilled the second he caught the man’s overly
perfumed scent. He warred with himself, trying to decide whether he should
confront Devlin or not. He could hardly deny the man’s charges. He had ruined
Lord William Longfellow and he’d do it again given the same circumstances.
Devlin sat at a table directly behind him, immediately ordering a brandy, and
then settled into a new game with some of the usual patrons. Another hour
passed and Richard heard cursing. Devlin drank heavily. His words began to
slur, letting Richard know beyond a doubt that the man was thoroughly foxed.

“Damn, lost again,” Devlin grumbled loudly, tossing the
cards on the table.

Richard’s ears perked up even more as Josephine
approached Devlin. If Archibald didn’t slow down he’d find himself purse
pinched.

Devlin mumbled, “Josephine, my love, I’m in need of
your assistance again.”

“I’m afraid Archie, I cannot extend you any more
credit. Lord Martins holds most of your assets. And your losses here are
already extensive,” she purred. “If you lose again, I’ll have to claim your
house, or perhaps we can arrange something else…I’m sure you have something of
value I could put to good use.” The insinuation was there.

“No need to worry about Lord Martins, we have an
arrangement. Soon I’ll have all the money I need.” His lips smacked as he
spoke.

“That’s well and fine, but it doesn’t change your
current situation.”

“I told you I’ll get you the money.”

His plea fell on deaf ears.

Richard’s eyes widened as the implications became
clear, then his blood ran cold. If someone didn’t get the man away from the
tables, his family would be homeless or worse. He didn’t want to even think
about the arrangement he had going with Lord Martins, Richard could just
imagine, seeing as this was the second time the man’s name had come up.

If Devlin was requesting credit from Josephine, then
the man had obviously already gambled away Lily’s dowry. Anger rose within
Richard. The thought of Lily being put out on the streets or enslaved here, cut
through him like a knife. He couldn’t allow it to happen and he wouldn’t.

“Double damn,” the voice behind him barked once more.

Richard closed his eyes, the truth of the situation
sinking in. Devlin had just lost again, even after Josephine warned him. The
man must have cabbage for brains or more likely brandy, since he stunk of
Napoleon’s finest. Richard’s lids flew open and he rose from the table,
gathering his winnings. He wasn’t sure exactly what he planned on doing, but he
had to act fast before Luc and Armand got a hold of Devlin. Once that occurred
the man would promise Josephine anything—including Lily.

With a scowl upon his face Richard walked forward until
he could see Archibald. He looked utterly defeated. His hands were buried in
his silver hair and his blue eyes were watery and bloodshot. Richard nodded to
the men at the table, quickly scanning their minds to ensure the games had been
won fairly. They stood, taking their winnings with them and left. He sat in the
chair directly across from Devlin, waiting for the man to recognize him. It
took a few moments.

Archibald’s face split into a sneer. “I thought I told
you I didn’t want to see you around anymore.”

Richard patiently stared at the drunken man. “It seems
to me you were referring to your daughter at the time, not this establishment.”

Josephine flashed a smile at Richard and then sauntered
to a stool nearby, so she could get a better view of the action. Her face lit
up with anticipation. The woman liked the sight of blood, almost as much as he
did. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear she was vampire too. Richard shook
his head, but didn’t bother asking her to leave, because it would be a waste of
time. She owned the place and was entitled to sit where she liked.

“What do you want?” Devlin hissed.

Richard arched a brow, inclining his head toward the
man. “You know what I want.”

Devlin’s lips thinned. “Never! After what you did to my
friend, to me, I’ll allow Lily nowhere near your kind.”

Tilting his head away from Josephine, Richard smiled,
showing Devlin just enough of his fangs to appear menacing. He slipped into
Archibald’s mind, ready to plant terrifying pictures if he chose to defy him.
It was like stepping into Scottish bog, thick, black and bottomless. “Rest
assured, Devlin, you have no idea what kind of man you’re dealing with.”

“And I don’t care! Lily’s future is all but secured.”
Devlin pushed back from the table, almost falling over in the process. He stuck
out his hand to steady himself then stood. With a shaky finger he pointed at
Richard. “I’d rather see my daughter working as a whore, before I’d allow you
to have her.”

To insinuate that even his presence was worse than
subjecting Lily to this sort of life went beyond insulting. Richard stood so
fast he tipped the table. The wood crashed to the floor, scattering markers in
all directions. Rage the likes of which he’d never felt boiled beneath his
skin, scalding his insides. “Listen to me and listen well, Lily will never step
foot in a place like this.” His hands fisted as he fought to keep his talons
sheathed. “And she will never have to pay off your foolishness in your stead.
Do you understand me?” Without physically touching him, Richard squeezed Devlin’s
throat with invisible hands.

A twitch started in Archibald’s cheek and he couldn’t
seem to keep the tremors from his fingers. He clawed at his throat, trying to
break the hold. Richard released him and shot Josephine a questioning glance.
She shrugged. Devlin’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“Now that I have your attention.” Richard jabbed
himself in the chest with his thumb. “I’m going to pay off half of your losses.”