Eye of the Beholder (8 page)

Grayson pivoted when he heard the murmurs and
saw the blue silk that he’d paid a small fortune for sweep into the
room and around the corner.

What was she thinking, coming here? His fear
was not that she’d expose him, but that she would be exposed to
scandal. The people who attended his art show were married people,
and a young unmarried woman, unaccompanied, was out of place.
Especially a young unmarried woman staring at the painting of her
own quim.

He glanced around the room and didn’t see
Dominic, so he excused himself from the gentlemen he’d been in
conversation with and crossed the room toward her. She turned, her
eyes widening when she saw him. He took her hand and swept in a bow
over it, bringing it to his lips.

“I’m so pleased you could meet me,” he said,
his voice low. “You look lovely, Miss Dusenberry.”

He straightened and looked into her eyes. She
returned his gaze steadily, even lifting her brows as if daring him
to say anything to expose her. Clearly she didn’t believe he was
the one who should be wary. He tightened his hand around her upper
arm and guided her away from the crowd.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I wanted to thank you for the gown. I had no
idea there would be quite so many people I know,” she said,
glancing around.

“You look stunning, but Sarah, this is not
the place for you.”

“Why not? No one knows who you are, or what
they’re looking at, for that matter.”

“You don’t know that. And it doesn’t matter.
You come here alone, and you stand out, Sarah.” His lips tightened.
“At least people have seen us together. They may doubt my judgment
bringing you here, but there is that.”

“You have an amazing turnout,” she said when
she sensed him relax. “Are these all the paintings?”

“No. I’ve not finished all of them, and there
are some I dare not display. Not here.”

“This is very exciting. I had no idea you had
so many. Do you sell them?”

“Yes, but usually not here. I make most of my
sales overseas.” He offered her a glass of champagne and let his
gaze travel over her. “The color suits you. I would have preferred
red, but Madame Amaria pointed out it is not the color for a young
woman of breeding.”

She smiled. “I imagine.”

He lifted his hand to her hair, let it fall
after caressing a tendril that hovered near her cheek. “I’m sorry
for the things I said. The dress—was an apology.”

“Not an invitation.”

A dimple creased his cheek. Her heart
fluttered. She hadn’t noticed that feature before. “The invitation
was for Friday, not tonight. How did you know I was here?”

“Lily told me.”

“Ah.” He trailed his fingers down her sleeve.
“I’ve missed you, Sarah.” He closed his fingers around hers. “Let’s
go.”

She smiled, enjoying the freedom of looking
into his eyes and seeing both of the men she knew. “Don’t you need
to be here?” She inclined her head toward the wall behind her.

“They don’t know who I am, remember?” He
tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her toward the
door.

Three men entered the room at that time,
looking about at the walls, then scanning the guests, who quieted
as they turned.

“Mr. Adams?” one man asked, stepping forward
to stand in front of Grayson.

“Yes? And you are?”

“Inspector Payton. You need to come with me,
sir.”

“Inspector? Why?”

Another perusal of the walls, then judgmental
eyes turned back to Grayson. “Indecent displays. Would you really
like for me to arrest you in front of your friends?”

Grayson stepped away from Sarah, dropping her
hand. She froze in shock. He gave her a regretful look, then nodded
to the inspector and accompanied him out the door, leaving her
alone and wondering what had just happened before she was herded
out with the others.

***

Grayson walked out of the magistrate’s office
and down the steps a different man. He didn’t want to think about
returning to his studio, seeing the emptiness there after his
paintings had been confiscated. All his work, the paintings of
Sarah…he didn’t have the heart to recreate them, even if he could.
The emotions that had been present in the room when he’d drawn her
could not be duplicated.

“Sir!”

He looked up to see Dominic beckon him from
the side of a carriage parked along the street. Relief quivered in
his muscles. Soon he would be alone where he could brood in
private. He nodded at his man and stepped into the carriage to find
he was not alone.

Sarah sat on one bench, her reticule dangling
from her wrist, still wearing the gown he’d bought her when he’d
been arrogant and foolish, invincible.

Now his reputation was in tatters and she was
here at the magistrates—why?

“Sarah, you shouldn’t be here,” he said
wearily, heaving himself onto the seat across from her.

“I came to get you.”

He snapped his head up. So that was why he
hadn’t been asked for coin, had just been released. “Sarah. You
didn’t--”

“Your fine is paid.” She lifted her chin
stubbornly.

Christ she had beautiful eyes. He’d made her
hide them for weeks, and now they shone with an emotion he didn’t
want to identify. “Why?” he asked brusquely.

She folded her hands primly in her lap.
“Because you needed help.”

“Not from you.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Why not?”

Little fool, she had to know the answer.
“Because my reputation is destroyed and yours will be as well if
anyone associates you with me.” He let that sink in a moment before
his curiosity got the better of him. “Where did you get the money?”
She’d come to pose for him for the money to travel, after all.

Even in the dim light inside the carriage, he
saw the blush tinge her cheeks. “I took it from the household
funds. I am assured you can replace it before my mother notices
it’s missing.”

The last was said as something of a question.
Shock rolled through him. “You stole from your mother?”

“I borrowed,” she said, stressing the
word.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you to spend any longer than
you had to in that place.”

“I have been taking care of myself for some
time now.” He couldn’t resist softening toward her, after the
chance she took for him.

“I understand.”

“I thank you.” He reached across the carriage
and took her gloved hand in his. “But you should not risk so much
for me.” He wasn’t worth it.

She lifted those beautiful eyes to his and he
saw something in there that frightened him more than the concern
for his paintings, for his reputation. Christ, was the girl in love
with him?

“I’ll take you to my home and get you the
money to replace your mother’s funds, then you need to be on your
way.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening on her
purse.

He’d wanted to go by his apartment first, to
see what paintings remained from the raid, but the longer he spent
in Sarah’s company, the more dangerous for both of them, a danger
that went far beyond his reputation.

The carriage pulled alongside his townhouse
and Grayson was out of his seat before the conveyance swayed to a
stop. “Wait here. I’ll bring the money to you. What was the
sum?”

She shifted forward on her seat as if to
follow, but one look from him had her shrinking back. She told him
the sum and he slammed the door decidedly.

He had not gone five steps in his house when
he heard the swish of skirts behind him. He pivoted to see Sarah in
the entryway, hands clasped over her purse, appearing undecided for
just a moment before determination brightened her features and she
crossed the floor toward him. She curved her hand around the back
of his head and brought his mouth down to hers. He stiffened for a
moment, but the sweetness of her mouth, the generosity of her
gesture melted his resolve to keep away from her. He curved his
hands around her waist and parted his lips for the tentative foray
of her tongue.

The pure innocence in her kiss should have
had him shoving her out the door, coin in hand. Instead, it
enflamed him and he brought her closer, encouraging her
inexperienced caresses. His cock grew heavy as her fingers curled
through his hair, stroked the back of his neck, as her breasts
rubbed against his chest.

Virgin
, he reminded himself, even as
his hands slid up to cup her breasts through the silk of her dress.
No corset here, only firm breasts, tight nipples, and he swirled
his thumbs over the sensitive tips, causing her to gasp into his
mouth. He took over the kiss then, tasting her lips, her tongue,
sliding along it in the rhythm he craved.

She whimpered and broke the kiss and for a
moment he thought she’d bolt. Instead, she pressed her body closer
to his and angled her head back, inviting his kisses on her long
white throat. He obliged, running his lips up and down the line of
soft skin until she shuddered, clutching his arms. He trailed his
lips across her exposed collarbone to the hollow of her throat, and
felt her breathing grow faster, tempting him to brush his lips
across the tops of her breasts. She released her grip on his arms
to tangle her fingers in his hair, guiding him downward. He allowed
himself just a taste of the skin between her breasts before he
stepped back, breaking contact.

She stared up at him, eyes, wide, dark with
desire, breasts lifting with each breath, nipples peaked against
the silk of her dress. He could smell her arousal, and his own was
excruciating.

But he wouldn’t take a virgin in the entryway
of his home. He shouldn’t take a virgin at all, but a man with his
disposition had only so much strength.

She’s in love with you
, the voice in
his head warned.
If you take her virginity, you owe her more
than an affair.

He knew that. He
knew
that. He was no
cad to deflower a virgin and cast her aside. After all, hadn’t he
been the man pursuing her, sending her the dress, attending balls
he knew she’d attend? She’d fascinated him for weeks. Was it love?
He didn’t know—he’d never experienced love. When he’d bought the
dress, he’d had every intention of courting her, but that had been
when his reputation was intact. Now, did he want to risk bringing
her down with him?

“I’m not the man for you,” he said, those
words the hardest he’d ever had to say.

“You are the only man for me,” she countered,
taking a step toward him.

He stepped back. “My reputation—society will
no longer embrace me, Sarah.”

“You believe that’s important to me? Does it
embrace me now?”

“It welcomes you. It may not be important
now, but in time--”

“In time I don’t wish to be here. I want to
be in Europe or the Americas, somewhere, anywhere, I can experience
life. And I want you to show me.” She reached behind her head to
unfasten the dress, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. He
watched helplessly as the fabric loosened around her shoulders and
she shrugged to let it fall to her waist, like the most experienced
courtesan. Her breasts thrust, full and firm, against the silk of
her chemise. His hands itched to feel the weight and texture, his
mouth longed to close over a dark nub and draw it into his
mouth.

She kept her gaze steady on him and waited.
With a growl, he crossed to her, swept her into his arms and
carried her up the stairs to his bedroom.

***

Sarah quivered with anticipation as Grayson
sat her on her feet in a bedroom decorated in dark colors and
dominated by a massive bed. He coursed his hands down her back and
made short work of the blue dress, which pooled at her feet. He
bent to sweep it up and folded it over a chair as she stood
awkwardly in the middle of the room, uncertain what to do next.

He turned to face her, tugging off his jacket
and placing it over her dress before he returned to take her in his
arms, his hand curving under her jaw to lift her mouth to his.

His kiss was warm and thorough, his tongue
teasing, then sliding deep, filling her with the taste of him,
making her whole body heat. His cock pushed against her belly, his
fingers toyed with the tip of her breast. She unbuttoned his shirt
and spread the fabric open over his broad chest. Her fingers danced
over the defined muscles, glided down his belly until he drew in a
sharp breath and grabbed her hand.

She pulled free and eased toward the bed,
knowing what to do now, drawing the chemise over her head and
tossing it aside. His gaze riveted to her as he shrugged out of his
shirt and unfastened his pants, his sex jutting toward her. For a
moment she thought about going down on her knees and taking him in
her mouth again. She could feel the texture of his skin against her
tongue, could taste his musky essence. But before she could act, he
was beside her, having removed his boots, but still wearing his
breeches.

She didn’t hesitate, and closed her hand
around his erection, eliciting a groan from him as she slid her
fingers up and down his length. It was unnerving, actually, knowing
what to do but not what to expect. He shucked off his pants and
closed his hands over her shoulders to ease her back onto the bed.
The duvet beneath her was soft and she sank into it, for a moment
thinking she’d fallen down a rabbit hole.

Then he was over her, braced on his elbow,
toying with her hair, his other hand sliding over her hip and
between her parted legs.

She bowed toward him at the first brush of
his fingers over her damp curls, and he delved deeper, to tease her
opening before sliding up to toy with the little nub of pleasure,
swollen now with anticipation. He bent his head to swallow her gasp
as he circled and stroked it before dipping back into her body,
stretching, pushing deeper than she’d had the courage to do. The
sensation was at once alien and delicious, and she moved against
his hand, wanting to follow the sensations, but also wanting to
hold back, to feel the full experience of desire when his body
entered hers.