“And this…” She rested her hand on his thigh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. His cock hardened, pressing painfully against his trousers. Alex jumped to his feet, turning his back to her. Somehow, at some point, he’d lost control. This wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.
“Yes. That’s fine,” his voice came out harsh.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shoving her foot into her boot and standing. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he turned toward her with that charming smile even though his chest was so tight, he felt as if someone was squeezing his heart. “It’s just that I have another appointment.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. He needed time alone. Time to regain control of his emotions. Regain control of his cock.
Her brows drew together, her eyes losing that sparkle of success and damn, if he didn’t feel guilty for taking away her merriment. “Of course.”
She picked up her bonnet, but paused, staring at the brim, waiting, as if she had something more to say. “I…I…”
For some reason he didn’t want to know what words she sputtered to produce. He already thought too much of her. He didn’t need her words of thanks, or praise, or God forbid, rejection. He rushed forward, taking the bonnet from her hands. “Tuesday, five?”
She hesitated, then finally nodded.
He settled the bonnet atop her head, covering that brilliant hair. With deft fingers he tied the strings and pulled the netting over her face, obscuring her features, believing if he couldn’t see her eyes clearly, he’d be able to think again.
“I…Thank you, Alex. That was quite informative.”
He didn’t respond, merely grasped her elbow and led her toward the door, his other hand resting on the small of her back. What the hell was he getting into? He couldn’t seem to breathe, to think when she was near. Damn, but the woman
made him forget, made him believe, made him hope and if there was one thing he’d learned, it was never to let hope rule your life. He opened the door and there stood James, fist poised as if to knock.
“So sorry,” he muttered, glancing at Grace. “I didn’t realize you were with someone.”
“I’m not.” He gently pushed Grace into the hall, practically into James. The man skittered to the side as Grace spun around to face him. “James, you don’t mind escorting her out back, do you? Thank you.”
“Umm, no, of course not.” James nodded reluctantly.
As Grace started to follow James, Alex felt as if she was slowing ripping the lungs from his chest. It was as if his very being was tethered to her. For some insane reason, he couldn’t let her go without one last word, one last promise. He grasped her upper arm, drawing her back, close enough so that James could not overhear. She turned toward him, her eyes wide with surprise.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, so close his breath made the fine net covering her face quiver. “Tuesday...kissing.”
********
He shut the door in her face. Shut the door. In her face.
Unsure if she should be shocked more by his words, or his actions, Grace merely stood there for one long moment.
Tuesday…kissing.
The words whispered seductively through her mind. A delicious shiver ran the length of her body. Annoyed and confused, she lifted her fist, intending to knock, but like the coward she’d suddenly become, thought better of it. What if he rejected her? What if he pulled her inside and pressed his mouth to hers then and there? Of course that was the point of her visit, to learn to kiss…wasn’t it?
How very odd he was! How very odd he made her feel. Warm. Achy. Confused. So many emotions spun around in her mind that she felt a headache forming. Yes, she was much better off with someone like Rodrick. Someone kind, someone dull…No! Not dull, but merely
dependable
.
“My dear?” Her escort had paused in the middle of the hall. His young face and large green eyes bespoke only of sincerity and innocence, the complete opposite of Alex’s charming smirk. How strange that he should work here.
And Alex…well, Alex was wicked underneath that angelic smile. There was no other explanation for the way he made her feel, the way he could make her entire being come to life. But this man, he seemed too boyish to belong at a brothel.
He smiled at her, a crooked smile that was more endearing than seductive. “I’m James.”
She nodded, it was all she could manage at the moment. He was supposed to escort her outside. Yet, she couldn’t seem to move. Her legs had grown wooden. The world stood still, waiting for her next movement. Her time with Alex didn’t seem over. She had too many questions… about him, about how he’d made her feel. As if sensing her reluctance, James rested his hand on her elbow, a gentle touch, and started forward, leading her down the hall. But she was barely aware of his presence. She glanced back at Alex’s door as if the wooden panel might provide answers.
A mere brush of his fingers on the pulse of her wrist and she’d practically melted like beeswax left in the sun. She wasn’t sure how she felt. But one thing was certain…she
felt
. After hearing women praise that magical feeling of passion, she’d begun to think there was something wrong with her. Finally, she understood. She understood lust. Sin. Desire. She was attracted to Rodrick, there was no doubt. And now, knowing how a simple kiss could feel so intense and amazing, she certainly wouldn’t be nervous about touching the earl. In fact, she’d welcome his smiles, his gaze, his body. Yet, why did she worry she’d think of Alex while Rodrick’s lips were pressed to her?
She paused, resting her hand to her beating heart. Why Alex? Why now? Why him, of all people? And why the hell had she ever agreed to this ridiculousness?
“My lady?” James was watching her, his green eyes filled with concern.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry. I’m…”
Voices filtered from behind a closed door ahead. Murmured conversation coming closer. Grace jerked away from James. Was that feminine tone familiar? No. Certainly not, she was merely paranoid. So why couldn’t she prevent the bitter taste of panic from flooding her mouth? A door opened. The thought of being seen terrified her.
“I must hide!” Grace dove behind a tall statue of an embracing couple. James merely stood in the middle of the hall watching her as if she was playing some childish game he didn’t understand.
Frantically, she waved to him.
With a sigh, he sauntered to her side, kneeling behind her. “Is there a reason we’re hiding?” he whispered, his breath tickling the back of her neck.
“I think I recognize that voice.” Surely she was mistaken. No one she knew would be here. She stood on tiptoe and peeked between two marble arms. A couple twirled from a room, holding tightly to each other, twirling so fast and holding so tightly that she could barely tell man from woman.
“You do know what I like, don’t you darling?” the woman whispered seductively.
The man replied something too low to hear. He stopped and pressed the woman to the wall, her face finally visible.
Grace blanched. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, unable to stop herself.
She knew the woman well. Lady Maxwell had tea with her mother many times before Mama had grown too ill. Lady Maxwell, a woman praised for her high morals…a woman married for fifteen years now. And she was…
here
? The young man pressed his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that sent a blush to Grace’s cheeks and made her think of Alex. While his hands, his hands were moving down her hips to her thighs. His fingers curled, bunching the blue material and lifting Lady Maxwell’s skirts higher…higher…
Grace sucked in a breath and crouched lower, attempting to ignore the dull ache that burned in the pit of her belly. Embarrassment, shame and what else?
“Come.” James reached up behind him, wrapping slender fingers around the porcelain handle of some unmarked door.
She nodded frantically and took his offered hand.
Inside the safety of the room, she could finally breathe again.
“We can wait in here until they leave.” Softly, James shut the door. “No one will bother us.”
Of course not, because they’d think they were involved in some torrid affair in a bedchamber made for that sort of thing. Grace glanced around the beautiful room where no expense was spared on comfort. It would seem like a typical chamber, if not for the painting of a naked man and woman embracing above the fireplace. The man’s hands covered the woman’s breasts and her face…Grace tilted her head to the side, getting a better view. Her face radiated pure bliss. She jerked her attention away and focused on the papered walls, the only thing safe in the room.
Grace lifted the netting covering her face. James was watching her, she could feel the force of his gaze piercing her back. And why wouldn’t he watch her? She was acting like a mad fool. Hiding behind statues like a child. Cowering in a bedchamber. She clasped her hands together, one bare, one covered with a glove. She realized with a sigh, that she’d forgotten her other glove in Alex’s room. Even though they were her best gloves, she didn’t dare return for it.
How long would Lady Maxwell be in the hallway? Surely they wouldn’t actually be intimate in the corridor where anyone could see. She turned her back to James and paced to the windows. The sun was a brilliant orange ball hovering on the horizon. The drive to her townhome took a good hour and Mama would worry.
“You’re a client?” James asked.
Grace spun around to face him. “No!” Heat shot to her face. “I mean…maybe…no. I don’t know.” She covered her face with her hands and sank onto a wing back chair covered in a sinful red material.
“You’re deciding if you’re a client?”
She nodded, feeling miserably embarrassed. She was an academic. She was worldly. She was…a bloody idiot.
“And you’re with Alex?”
She nodded again, settling her clasped hands in her lap and peeking up at him through her lashes. Why she cared about his opinion, she wasn’t sure. But that blasted sincere and honest face begged to be trusted.
He watched her, merely watched with no judgment upon his handsome features. “Do you desire someone new?”
“What?” The thought shocked her, repulsed in some way.
“You don’t seem happy with the situation. I’d be willing to talk to Lady Lavender, I’m sure we could find someone who would please you.”
Please her
? She truly could not be having this conversation. Oh why wouldn’t the floor open and swallow her whole?
“Lady Lavender?” she managed in a strangled whisper.
James nodded, frowning. “She is the woman who runs the brothel and if there is a problem, she must know.”
She surged to her feet, feeling suddenly annoyed. “No! Alex is…he…pleases me.” Had she really just said those words? Blast, but she’d felt the sudden need to defend the man.
“I see,” James said, but the way he said it made her bristle, as if he’d read the dishonesty in her words. Fortunately, he didn’t argue. He merely paced to the windows, crossing his arms over his chest and looking outside.
“He does. He’s…he’s kind, charming.” Now she was overdoing it a tad. Lord, she didn’t know what Alex was, did she? She didn’t even know the man’s last name. She knew very little about the ridiculous situation she suddenly found herself. “James, do you have a surname?”
“Just James.”
Like
‘just Alex.’
As if they didn’t deserve a surname. Or perhaps they didn’t want one. James seemed suddenly melancholy and for some reason, she felt as if it was her fault. What was he thinking to produce such a morose look upon his face?
“How?” she whispered. “How did you fall into this position?” It was a personal question, too personal, yet he didn’t seem offended. Then again, surely, he’d been asked it before.
He turned, giving her that crooked smile. “Luck, perhaps.”
She stiffened, confused by his answer. Had she misheard him? “Luck? I’d think you’d wish to be anywhere but here.” She was being blunt, but this new world went against everything she understood.
He laughed, a wry chuckle that lacked humor. “My lady, my family was starving, my mother and sister near death. When Lady Lavender took me in, she also took in my family, in a way.” He paused by the small window, the setting sun highlighting his handsome face. He looked so sure, so positive he was right in his beliefs that she didn’t dare argue. “They would have died, my sister would have sold…”
Sold herself like a whore. She wanted to ask him why it was better that he sell himself, but knew she was getting dangerously close to asking too many intimate questions. “And Alex?” she continued, unable to stop herself.
He paused, his body went stiff, his face guarded. He seemed almost defensive. “What about him?” Did he not wish to discuss his friend’s personal life, or did he not wish to discuss Alex at all?
“Why is he here?”
His smiled turned tight. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him.”
They weren’t friends then. That was obvious. Did Alex have any friends? The thought of him here, alone, made her suddenly melancholy. Yet, he wasn’t alone, was he? No, he had plenty of women to keep him company. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”