His Wicked Heart (7 page)

She ran her hands down his chest and it was
his turn to gasp. Slowly, she tugged the hem of his shirt from his
breeches. Her knuckles grazed his belly, forcing his muscles to
clench. He twisted toward her hips, aching for the touch of
something—anything—against his swollen cock.

Inch by inch, she pushed the shirt up his
torso, exposing each new piece of flesh to the heat collecting
between them. Her fingers danced along his skin, driving him
farther, deeper into his haze of lust. The anticipation was near
agony. It was, in fact, more acute than any pain he’d ever
suffered.

He arched off the bed so she could sweep the
garment over his head. He felt the breeze as the fabric left him.
It stirred her delicious scent and he couldn’t stop himself another
moment. He slid his tongue along her neck, knowing exactly where
she was positioned because he hadn’t let her go. She shivered. He
pressed his lips to the underside of her chin.

She hovered there, allowing his attention,
but didn’t tilt her face down. Why wouldn’t she kiss him?

But then he felt the slide of fabric against
his right wrist and he snatched it from her grip. “Now what are you
doing?”

“Trust me.” She moved her head and ran her
tongue along the outer edge of his ear. With soft lips, she tugged
at his lobe and then sucked it into her mouth.

He quivered with need. It took her a moment
to secure him, but he was too focused on the ministrations of her
mouth and tongue.

Then she moved to his left wrist. This put
the swell of her breast close enough to kiss. Jasper didn’t
hesitate. He pressed his mouth to her skin, praying she’d remove
his blindfold at some point so he could watch her undress. He
opened his mouth and suckled at her flesh, drawing another gasp
from her.

A moment later, she finished her work and
drew away. Again, she ran her hands down his chest. It seemed she
was in no hurry, and he couldn’t fault her. He wanted to extend
their pleasure as long as physically possible. Her hands reached
the waistband of his breeches and stilled.

Silence reigned, broken only by their rapid
breathing filling the space. Need pulsed within him, between them.
Unable to stand another torturous second, Jasper pressed his hips
up, urging her to continue whatever she meant to do next.

She unfastened his fall. As each button came
free, his blood heated and his pulse increased. The absence of
sight and the inability to touch her with his hands sensitized the
nerves in his flesh. Every time she brushed his small clothes or
the surface of his belly, he moved his hips.

At last she stroked him. Lightly, perhaps
inadvertently, but he groaned nonetheless. Then she pulled his
breeches from his legs and except for his small clothes, he was
completely exposed to her. He spread his thighs, inviting her to do
as she wished.

“I’ll be right back.”

He frowned. “I’d like to watch you
undress.”

“You said you trusted me, Saxton,” she said
with a light, scolding tone. “I promise you will not be
disappointed this evening.”

She had no idea what she asked of him, but he
forced himself to relax. There would be other times for him to peel
her chemise from her breasts.

The swish of her skirts, so alluringly clear
to his hungry senses, faded for a moment. A bead of doubt
infiltrated his sexual haze—had he been wrong to trust her? More
silence. The doubt grew into a dark, fear-laden cloud. His desire
began to fade.

Her footsteps, so light and soft, reached his
desperate ears. The bed sagged as she straddled him, her bare knees
pressing down on each side of his hips. She inserted her hand into
the slit of his small clothes and palmed him. Lust jolted his
slackening shaft, casting his disappointment aside as if it had
never been. So good, except for the calluses…

She didn’t have calluses
. Her palms
had been soft when she’d tied his hands.

He pulled back from the hand stroking him,
retreating as far as he could into the mattress.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough. “Who the
hell are you?”

Her fingers found him. “It’s me, Livvie.” The
voice was too deep, too rough.

His desire fled completely and was replaced
with cold rage. Everything about this woman from her touch to her
voice to her name was all wrong. “You may think I’m helpless, but I
assure you I’m not. Tell me where Olivia is.”

A heavy, gin-soaked breath gusted over him.
“I guarantee you’d rather do this with me. Livvie doesn’t have
my…skill.”

Jasper doubted that. Pointlessly, she stroked
him again.

He pulled at his bindings, desperate to shove
her hand away and remove her from his body. “Stop!” he hissed. If
Olivia was nearby, he didn’t want her to know she was on to his
scheme.

Her hand closed more firmly around his prick.
“Who’s in control now?”

Her voice now penetrated his confused brain.
The whore from the brothel the other night. What the hell was she
doing here?

Jasper struggled against his bindings, but
they were well tied. “Take off my blindfold and untie me. If you do
it quickly—and quietly—I’ll give you five pounds.”

She tore the blindfold off him. Her gray eyes
spat venom. “You cost me a lot more than that the other night. The
madam was right furious with me. Threatened to kick me out on the
street after you left. She’s given me the lowliest, cheapest
customers since. I deserve a bloody sight more than five
pounds.”

Working to take the edge from his voice, he
modulated his tone. He needed her to let him go, not squeeze his
prick to death—or worse. “Ten pounds, then. Do remember I’m an earl
as you deliberate.”

Another gust of gin-soaked breath settled
over him. “That’s more like it.” She set to work on his
bindings.

When both wrists were free, he pushed her off
him. “Cover yourself.” He held his finger to his lips, urging her
to do so quietly.

Hastily, he drew on his breeches, his hands
shaking with rage. “What was your plan?” he asked softly. “And keep
your voice down.”

She refastened her dress. “After I shagged
you, I’d get up to wash and then we’d switch back.”

Fury pooled in his belly and spread, filling
him with vitriol. Olivia had duped him. Purposefully. Anguish
mingled with his anger.
Do you trust me
? She’d lied with
every word, every touch.

He pushed his anger out, toward the hapless
slut. “This is fraud. I could drag you to the magistrate.”

She blanched. “Have mercy, my lord. I was
only trying to make back the coin you lost me.”

“Go out and tell her you’re done.” He pulled
two pounds from his discarded waistcoat and gave it to her, not
because he wanted to, but because he felt bad for the plight he’d
caused her. It wasn’t her fault she reminded him of lost love. He
gave her a dark look. “Don’t warn her.”

She nodded jerkily. He moved to stand behind
the door.

Tilly went into the hallway. Jasper leaned
close to the wall. Their voices drifted through the crack near the
hinges.

“Did he suspect anything?”
The duplicitous
bitch
.

“No.”

“Thank you, Tilly. I’ll bring your share down
later.” There was a pause, then, “Was he, that is…”

“Worth it? ‘Course. I told you you’d regret
not doing him yourself.”

There was a loud exhalation then feet
scraping across the floorboards. Olivia stepped through the
doorway.

Jasper slammed the portal and flattened his
back against it. He glared at her with the weight of his wrath. “If
you don’t yet regret deceiving me, I promise you will.”

SAXTON’S EYES were like frost, the flesh
around his lips tight and drawn. Olivia moved farther inside and
stepped around the table, putting the barrier between them. “Are
you going to hurt me?”

He prowled toward her. “You attempted fraud.
More disturbingly, you arranged for a stranger to assault me. Don’t
you think you deserve some sort of punishment?”

God, she hadn’t thought of it that way. Her
belly squeezed with nausea, her limbs shook with shame. She
probably deserved something, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it
and put herself at his mercy. “No.”

“The law would disagree. I could send for the
magistrate.” His body was rigidly calm, without visible sign of
agitation, save the savage expression on his face.

Fear wouldn’t help her. She gathered her
courage and squared her shoulders. “You could, but we don’t have a
contract of any kind, especially if I return your payment.” She
strode to the dresser and retrieved her mother’s box. With
trembling hands, she withdrew his money and thrust it toward him.
“Here.”

He accepted the bills and, without taking his
gaze from her, set them on the table. “I don’t want a refund. I
want you.”

Olivia moved back behind the table. “I
thought a man like you would find one woman as acceptable as the
next.”

Heat leapt into the ice of his eyes and his
hands fisted. He stood silent a long moment during which Olivia’s
heart tried to beat itself right out of her chest. “You couldn’t be
more mistaken.” His tone was soft, but razor-sharp. “I’m
disappointed you aren’t the least bit contrite, particularly after
I helped you the other night. Not to mention your insistence that I
trust
you.”

Olivia cringed. He’d actually taken her words
to heart. If she were in his shoes, she’d demand punishment too.
“I’m…sorry.” It sounded pitiful even to her ears.

He shoved the table to the side, eliminating
the barrier and stopping just before her. Though he didn’t touch
her, he effectively pinned her to the wall. “Regardless, I
did
trust you. We struck a bargain, and now you are
reneging. If you were a man, I would call you out.”

She knew enough of men and their honor to
recognize that he wouldn’t hurt her, especially after what he’d
just said. He felt betrayed, but she didn’t think he’d resort to
violence to seek retribution.

His gaze bored into hers with savage
intensity. He was terribly handsome, even in his fury. The already
hot room sweltered with the heat coming off his bare chest. Facing
him at dawn seemed a palatable notion. She was far more afraid of
his ability to seduce her.

Olivia swallowed. “What are you going to
do?”

“That depends.” Their impassioned breathing
filled the apartment as she waited for his response, every one of
her muscles tensely coiled. He speared her with a fierce stare.
“Tell me why.”

Though she knew he’d be insulted, she gave
him the truth. “I need money, and your offer is my only hope at
present. But I didn’t want to lie with you.” She hadn’t, but now,
after pretending to seduce him… She could well imagine lying with
him. Probably would imagine it for many nights to come.

A blood-curdling scream from downstairs
shattered the tension. Saxton pulled his gaze from her and looked
toward the door. Another shriek. He spun about and exited toward
the stairwell. Olivia followed fast on his heels.

He ran down the stairs, pausing on the third
floor landing. The commotion seemed to be coming from the ground
floor so they continued to descend, his bare feet smacking against
the wood as he raced. Goodness, he was half naked, she realized. At
the base of the stairs, they halted again. Another tenant brushed
past them on her way up the stairs, her face white.

Saxton strode toward the open doorway leading
to Mrs. Reddy’s apartment. The horrid sound of violence bled into
the corridor. He disappeared into the apartment. Olivia didn’t want
to follow him, but she couldn’t stop herself from confirming what
she heard, the dull thud of flesh hitting flesh. How many times had
she suffered the sight of Baron Landringham, her mother’s lover,
striking her mother before that terrible night when he’d gone too
far and Fiona had tumbled down the stairs?

Olivia stepped to the door and froze,
paralyzed by awful memories playing out before her in the present.
A large man with a round, angry face gripped Mrs. Reddy by her
stringy hair. Blood streamed from her nose, and her face bore
several wicked marks that were already blooming into bruises.

“This ain’t your business,” the man said to
Saxton, who had moved close to them—too close.

Olivia’s heart thudded. Did he mean to
intervene? She’d tried that once on her mother’s behalf, and had
nursed a bloody face and several bruised ribs for her trouble.
Still, she hoped he had courage where she didn’t.

“It has to be somebody’s business.” Lord
Saxton sounded utterly calm, as if he stepped into such assaults
with regularity. “I can’t allow you to kill this woman.”

“This ain’t your affair. Bitch owes me money.
She’d rather drink the rent than give it to me. Ain’t that right,
dearie?” The large man pulled on Mrs. Reddy’s hair, causing her to
gasp sharply. Tears tracked down her battered face. “Now, take
yourselves back upstairs and finish whatever you’ve got going.” He
ogled Olivia. “Sorry to ’ave interrupted you.”