Bold Seduction (4 page)

The blade hovered by his cheek. “To be truthful, I am not sure,” he answered, his voice sensual and soft.

She scraped the razor from his chin to his cheek. Repeating the effort a few more times, his left cheek now lay bare. Phil could not stop from exploring as the professor, it seemed, possessed magnificent cheekbones. She rinsed the blade and shaved the right side. Tilting his chin up, she quickly removed the hair on his neck, chin, and under his nose. Phil laid a damp towel on his face.

Now for the unveiling. She stepped closer. While positioning herself between his spread legs, she blotted his face with the towel. Standing near him like this made her heart stutter wildly. With one last wipe, Phil removed the towel.

Oh my. Hell.
Not a classically handsome man, since his face was a little too long and angular, and his sharp and prominent nose had a bit of a snub on the end. His jawline appeared adequate, though his chin could be stronger, yet it suited his features. What drew her attention were his lips. They were full and sensual with a perfect cupid’s bow. Such a perfect mouth, and on a man no less. He possessed one of the most striking, unusual, and enthralling faces she ever beheld. Her breath seized while her heart beat faster, thumping against her ribcage. No denying the fact, a decided attraction toward this man filled her senses. What to say? Could she even converse?

“Are you quite well, Miss McGrattan? You seem to be in a state of shock.”

Of course, he spoke. The melodious voice completed the fascinating portrait. Not perfect by any stretch with his large ears, long face, and gangly legs and arms.
Bloody hell.
Phil could not stop herself. She stepped back between his legs and cupped his face, her thumbs stroking those perfect, sculpted cheekbones. He gazed up at her. His brows furrowed in what she imagined could be confusion.

“You, my dear Professor--captive me.”

* * * *

Her softly spoken words arrowed straight to his soul. She could not mean it. Spence studied her, trying to find any hint of malicious mockery, but none were visible. Philomena leaned closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” he asked, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“Would you object if I did? Your lips appear eminently kissable.”

A hot flush spread across his face and covered his whole body. Damn his inexperience. He tore his gaze from hers and closed his eyes, embarrassed at his reaction. If she dared to glance down, she could not miss one of the most painful erections he had since he was capable of having them. All from a woman touching and shaving him. Stroking his cheeks. Telling him that he captivated her. What an easy seduction he’d be for this experienced temptress, and that thought rankled to his core. As vulnerable as an untried boy, which he supposed he was in reality.

It is not that he never experienced desire. He had once or twice, though nothing came of it. Spence believed making love should not be something casual used to scratch a particular carnal itch, but something to be revered and savored. How could Philomena do this for a living? It made everything she said, and what he read in her expression, counterfeit. He opened his eyes, grasped her arms, and pushed her away. “I do not want to be kissed, thank you.”

Philomena laid a hand on her hip and gave him a quirky smile. “Quite right. Too soon for a kiss. It is something that has to be worked up to with slow anticipation. The expectation of a kiss. First, a touch might do. A brush of fingers against bare skin.”

Philomena opened the buttons on his shirt, exposing his upper chest. She trailed the back of two fingers across his collarbone, causing him to shudder with desire. “A feather-like touch, enough to ignite the sparks of skin against skin. To know what bliss can be found when two naked bodies come in contact. The warmth, the scent, becoming one.”

God in heaven, she seduced him with huskily spoken words and the touch of two fingers. His insides turned to liquid, his bones to jelly. He was putty in her hands, and she no doubt knew it. Though she did not appear to be smug about the knowledge, a fire burned in her light brown eyes. She was as affected as he.
Astounding.

She stroked the hollow of his throat with the tip of her finger. He could not hold back the moan of desire that left him. Philomena leaned in close, her warm sultry breath igniting his skin further.

“Do not think I’m pulling this out of my prossie bag of tricks. I will tell you a secret. I’ve not been with a man for a few years by my own choice. Sex has always been a chore for me. You are the first man to make me anticipate it. Thank you.” She caressed his cheek, then stepped back, the spell broken. “I am exhausted. It’s been a long day. I shall say goodnight.”

Should he stand? With his coat off, his arousal would not be hard to miss. He no longer cared. Spence stood and did something he’d never done before. Clasping her hand, he brought it to his lips and let it hover there for a moment, a mere inch from contact. His gaze swept upward and captured hers. Her eyes were bright, her breathing shallow.
Yes, the anticipation.
It pounded between them with a potent life force.

Spence kissed her hand, a slow, burning kiss that lingered while he stroked the pulse point at her wrist with his finger. The beat throbbed and raced under his touch. Reluctantly, he let go. “Goodnight and pleasant dreams…Philomena.”

After giving him a slight curtsy, though a little unsteady, she hastily retreated.

Letting out the breath he held, he stared at the closed door. His first reaction to this preposterous scenario was to reject her, ensure she stayed in her room out of his sight and mind until her departure. After observing her reaction to his touch? Being a man of research, perhaps the best course would be to let this play out to whatever conclusion. Miss McGrattan was not the only one utterly captivated.

Daylight filtered through the heavy green curtains, though Phil had no idea of the time. She yawned and stretched. Slumber did not come easy last night, but when it did, she slept soundly. If it wasn’t for the utter exhaustion, she would have stayed and explored the attraction between her and the professor. For a man of little experience he certainly learned quickly. When he kissed her hand and stroked the skin at her wrist her body surged with desire, reacting in all sorts of ways.

No need to sugarcoat it. She was a prostitute, a whore, and had been since age fifteen. In all that time and in all her varied carnal occurrences, she never experienced much of anything. She used unguents to see the job through in most cases. Last night while preparing for bed, she’d been shocked to discover she had become wet from touching Spencer Hornsby. She brought a tin of cream with her, but wondered now if it would even be needed. Phil also brought quite a few sheaths. No man entered her body without his cock being cloaked. Too many women take ill with infections and diseases. Be damned if that would be her fate.

Phil swung her legs around the side of the bed and sat upright. Despite her occupation, she was proud of the fact she had built her business up from a few rooms to owning the house outright. Could The Starling Club function in her absence? She had no way to contact her employees to let them know she would be gone more than two days. Good thing she hired competent people. They would soldier on. She hoped.

She strode to the window and threw open the curtains. A puff of dust hung in the air. She waved it away. No sunlight. The clouds were more gray and ominous than yesterday. No doubt about it, a snowstorm loomed on the horizon. Bloody hell, what if she remained stuck in the forsaken place more than a week? What if the old man could not traverse the snow-laden roads with his rickety grocery cart? Well, there was enough food to last them at least a few weeks, should it come to that. The air outside seemed completely still. There didn’t appear to be another living soul for miles.

What would she wear today? She brought little in the way of garments since she’d been led to believe her stay would consist of two nights. Enough shilly-shallying, there were many things to do. She desperately needed a bath to wash off the travel grime and the dust from this place. Might as well tidy the kitchen before partaking of a bath. Seeing there was no indoor water closet, she assumed there would be no running water connected to a tub either. How primitive. Already she bemoaned the loss of her modern bathroom back at the club.

Phil dressed in her striped green travel gown, tied her hair back in a serviceable knot, and made her way downstairs. The door was closed to the study, indicating the professor no doubt toiled away inside. After using the privy located through the back kitchen entrance, she rolled up her sleeves and started to prepare breakfast.

Forty minutes later, Phil stood outside the study. No use knocking, since he hadn’t responded yesterday. She opened the door and froze in place. Spencer Hornsby kneeled in front of the roaring fireplace and lifted a small quilt hanging from the mantel. He laid the blanket on one of the dogs. The beast whimpered and gave the professor such a look of love and devotion that a ball of emotion caught in Phil’s throat. With gentle strokes he rubbed the warmed cloth over the animal.

“There, my dear old girl. I would hazard to guess that feels good? Your poor aching muscles.” He crooned to the dog, soothing the canine as he spoke. The words were filled with a gentle concern, causing tears to gather on Phil’s lashes. “We’ve been together a good long time, Theodora. Eleven years. I would like eleven more if we can manage it.” Theodora licked the man’s hand in affection. The other dog lay down next to Theodora. “That’s the good boy, Justinian. Keep your mum warm. Good lad.”

Phil backed away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Why on earth was she crying? Perhaps, for once in her life, she wanted someone to wrap her in a warm blanket and whisper words of comfort. Oh, damn her emotions! Maybe she wished for Spencer Hornsby to soothe and reassure her.
Envious of a dog, bloody hell, what next?
Taking a deep breath, she regained control of her rampant sentimentality and re-entered the room.

* * * *

“Breakfast in the dining room, Professor.” Her voice was cold, officious, and he raised an eyebrow at her tone. She turned on her heel and left before he could respond.

Philomena’s demeanor perplexed him. He glanced down at Justinian. The dog watched her leave the room. They exchanged puzzled glances and he said, “No lad, I do not understand women either.”

Spence made his way to the dining room. She had lit the fire and warmth filled the area. On the table were fried eggs, a rasher of bacon, and thick slices of fresh bread along with a pot of tea. He sat opposite her. “This is a rare treat. I usually do not eat breakfast.”

She sipped her tea. “Well, you are rather too thin. I’m a firm believer in a hearty breakfast. Sets you up for the day ahead.”

He buttered a piece of bread. “I have lost weight since I arrived here. There are times I become engrossed in my work and forget to eat.”

Philomena took a bite of egg. “Your animals…”

“They are my friends as well as my companions.”

“Yes, I can see that. Where did you get them?”

“I acquired Theodora first. When I turned nineteen I decided I wanted a dog. Father objected at first as I would be away at university, ‘Who would look after the beast?’ However, my dear mother talked him round. A few years after I graduated, I had a mind to breed her. She accompanied me on a trip to northern England to a man who bred Irish Wolfhounds. Soon after, she was with pup.” He hesitated, conversation did not come easy for him and he hadn’t spoken this much in ages. Yet he was at ease in Philomena’s presence. Nibbling on a piece of bacon, he swallowed, then continued. “There were difficulties in the birth. Thank God a doctor from the Veterinary College practiced nearby. He saved her life and that of her son. The other pup, a female, did not survive. Theodora had to be spayed, no more puppies for her. They have both been with me ever since.”

“They mean a lot to you.” She smiled, her eyes softening.

“Yes, they do.”

“Interesting names. Where did you get them?”

He returned her smile as this was one of his favorite subjects. “Theodora was an empress in the Byzantine Empire from 527 to 548 AD. She had a rather interesting past. Before being an empress, she acted on stage and served in a brothel, later the mistress of a Syrian official. Her beauty was well admired as well as her humor and charm. Tiring of her lascivious life, Theodora returned to Constantinople where she became a wool spinner not far from the palace. She caught the eye of Justinian, heir to the throne. Such a low association could not be borne. His family, particularly his mother, objected to the connection.” He paused, since he did not stand behind a lectern. “Here endth the lecture.”

By this time, Philomena had ceased eating. Instead, she sat forward, her chin resting on her hand as she listened with rapt attention to his every word. “She was a whore,” Philomena whispered. “Please continue. What happened?”

“Justinian would not settle for any other woman. Besides, an ancient Roman law prohibited any government official from marrying an actress. He bided his time. When his mother passed, his uncle, the current emperor, repealed the law and the couple got married.”

Philomena clapped her hands in delight. “How romantic!”

Spencer could not help but smile once again. “She worked at his side, a co-ruler essentially. They brought about many modern reforms but also clashed over religious issues. Regardless, he loved her to the end.”

“Will you tell me more, perhaps tonight after supper?” Philomena bit into a piece of bread.

The fact she showed interest in his research pleased him more than it should. A flush of gratification warmed him. “I would be honored to do so.”

“Excellent! You know, I believe it will snow. Have you seen the skies? Most ominous looking to be sure….”

Spencer could not tear his gaze from her. Her chatter faded into mist. He allowed the unknown emotions to roll through him, which gave him more peace than he had ever known. A woman cared about what he did, acted interested in what he had to say. Pray, let it not be a lie. His heart could not take such a falsehood. He’d been cruelly ridiculed for years for his dogged pursuit of research. His own family did not understand him or his passion for study. He did not possess that certain talent for conversing with others. And yet, he did not feel uncomfortable talking with Philomena. Quite the revelation.