Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (3 page)

“Although you all are quite handsome,” she added, thinking to soften the blow.

Still not a word. Elizabeth shifted, uneasy, wondering if she had somehow offended. In all of the many lessons Mr. Ashton had forced her to attend, not once had anyone mentioned the rules to abide by when visiting a brothel.

Lady Lavender was silent for a long moment, her delicate hands pressed to her tiny waist as she studied Elizabeth with a shrewd eye. “Well,” she finally sighed. “I do hate to admit it, but that’s all we have at the moment. Would you prefer to see blond men?”

Panic swept through her. Perhaps he’d fallen ill. Perhaps he’d left the business. Or maybe Mr. Smith had made a mistake during his investigation. “No, he must have dark hair.” She cringed when her voice came out shrill and desperate.

Lady Lavender moved around the chairs and headed toward the doors, dismissing her already. If she wasn’t going to pay, she no longer mattered. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to return another
day. Make an appointment with my secretary and I’ll have some new clients for you.”

“I have money,” Elizabeth blurted out, rushing after her, knowing she looked completely desperate, but not caring. She hadn’t wanted to come at all, but now that her chance was slipping away, she was in a near panic. “Lots.”

Lady Lavender sighed as she paused at the door, looking quite annoyed. She was a veritable ice maiden. “As do I. I can’t pull men from rooms in mid-service, my reputation would be tarnished.”

The woman couldn’t truly be worried about her reputation? She owned a brothel, for God’s sake! “You’re sure you have no one else with dark hair?”

She pressed her fingers to the jewel-encrusted clip that held her hair in place, then smoothed down her skirts as if making sure everything was in order. “I must be fair. If you had made an appointment earlier in the year, it would be different.” She opened the door and stepped aside, obviously dismissing them.

Frantic, Elizabeth glanced toward Mr. Smith, but he said not a word. He couldn’t. She was in charge. Really, what could she do but admit defeat…for now? At least until she knew for sure if the man she searched for was truly here.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, and head held high, she started toward the door. “Very well.”

“I am truly sorry,” Lady Lavender said with little depth.

Elizabeth gave her a brittle smile. To come this far only to fail was not an option. She would return until she found the man she sought. Of course Lady Lavender didn’t need to know that. “I understand. I shall make another appointment soon.”

The woman’s cold eyes spoke volumes. Instinct told her she must tread carefully around her. Yes, she would be back, and next time she’d forgo the formality. Elizabeth stepped into the hall and directly into a solid chest. She gasped, her knees buckling. The chest in question easily caught her with one steel arm and drew her to a hard body.

Stunned, for one spellbound moment she didn’t move. The scent of musky soap and man surrounded her in an erotic cocoon that left her heated and oddly content, as if she’d been born to reside in his arms. Elizabeth blinked rapidly at his broad chest, confused by the situation in which she suddenly found herself.

“Pardon me,” the man said, his voice deep.

A tone that vibrated through her body and stirred something primitive deep within. Slowly, she lifted her gaze from his black jacket, followed the line of his neck to his chin. Dark scruff covered the lower half of his face, as if he couldn’t bother to shave. Higher her gaze traveled…to his lips that were quirked in the corners, as if he found her and the situation amusing. Higher still to the slightest bump on his nose as if he’d been in a fight, and judging by the muscles surrounding her, she didn’t doubt he’d won.

It all happened in a mere moment, but it felt like an eternity before she raised her eyes and met his steel-colored gaze. Hair as black as sin curled slightly around the collar of his equally black jacket. It was the only thing soft about him. Her rational mind failed her. Words would not come. He was beautiful.

No. This could not possibly be one of Lady Lavender’s whores. He was too otherworldly, too much like an angel who’d flown down from the heavens. Her hands curled against his hard chest as she resisted the urge to latch onto his lapels. But it wasn’t his beauty that stunned her; it was those silver eyes that made her heart skip a beat and her mouth go dry.

“You’ll recognize him by those cold, gray eyes,”
Mr. Smith had said.

“Oh my,” Lady Lavender murmured, suddenly appearing at her side and reminding her that they were not alone. She gently pried Elizabeth from the man’s arms and turned her around, leading her toward the doors before Elizabeth had regained her wits.

“Are you all right?” Lady Lavender asked. “Must be careful, you know.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. The man had turned toward a woman she hadn’t even noticed, a woman who must be his client. They moved up the stairs, Elizabeth all but forgotten. With his arm around the woman’s waist, he whispered into her ear, making her giggle. Anger and surprise combined. She had the oddest desire to rush up those steps and pull the woman’s hair from her head…to proclaim to the world that he belonged to her. She pressed her hand to her racing heart, confused over her possessive feelings.

Mr. Smith had thought he was intimidating, the very devil.

She thought he was stunning.

The man’s touch had given her leave of her senses. She pressed her hand to her chest where she swore she could still feel the pressure of his beating heart against hers. Mr. Smith, who followed beside, shot her a telling glance, only confirming her suspicion. He was the man they sought.

“He’ll do.” She hated that her voice wavered as she said the words, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Lady Lavender was silent for a moment. “Gideon does not leave the estate, I’m sorry. Perhaps another—”

She had not come all this way for nothing. Her resolve strengthened. She glanced toward the steps once more, but Gideon was gone. “Lady Lavender,” Elizabeth interrupted, turning away from the woman. “I insist.”

The woman’s face grew hard, her eyes cold. “And I refuse.”

It would be war then. But she had one advantage: Lady Lavender thought she a simpering London miss. She’d find out soon enough what Elizabeth was capable of. Mr. Mountain suddenly appeared, as if sensing his mistress’s distress. He practically shoved them out the door. The sudden warmth of the day hit her, the sun blindingly brilliant. Elizabeth stumbled. Mr. Smith caught her before she teetered off the steps and into a potted lavender. Mr. Mountain shut the door in her face.

It was all over as quickly as it had begun. Elizabeth frowned, her eyes narrowed in confusion and anger. “Very inhospitable.”

Taking in a deep breath, she stepped away from Mr. Smith and pushed her bonnet back into place, making sure the netting still covered most of her face. She doubted a priest would enter this home, which meant it was going to be awfully hard to marry Gideon if he couldn’t leave the brothel.

“You’re sure it was him?” she asked, just to be positive.

“Yes.” Mr. Smith confirmed her worst fears and secret desires.

Of course it was. Mr. Smith had said he looked dangerous, but he hadn’t said the man was impossibly handsome. Elizabeth pressed her hands to her roiling stomach. What would she do? She had the oddest feeling that her life was about to change drastically, as if she stood on the edge of a cliff and was about to jump, praying there would be water below to soften the impact.

“Well, being polite didn’t work,” Mr. Smith said. “Shall we try the other?”

“Indeed.” Elizabeth pulled at the bell cord, ignoring the way her hand trembled. “Blackmail it is.”

“Over there,” Gideon said in a clipped tone that left no room for argument.

Lady Penelope scooped up her thick green skirts and scampered toward the four-poster bed to do his bidding, her bonnet bobbing with the movement. She wouldn’t object to his commanding tone; they never did.

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the bloodred settee. His clothing smelled like the woman he’d held downstairs. He knew Lady Penelope would not approve of him carrying another woman’s scent. Most women frowned upon the reminder that he’d had more than a few in his bed. Not that he cared what they wanted, but the scent was distracting. Spring and lilacs, of fresh air…freedom. He shook off the uneasy thought.

“Undo your bodice,” he demanded.

Lady Pen sucked in a sharp breath and with trembling fingers reached for the pearl button at her neckline. She was obviously
eager to start their play. He stalked toward her, his footsteps sure and unhurried. There was no need to rush. She was a stupid fool who would do what he told her to do, a woman so in need of diversion from her mundane and pathetic life that she would eagerly tarnish her soul and possibly her reputation should her sinful behavior be discovered.

Reaching her, he didn’t pause but cupped the back of her neck and took what he wanted. His mouth crashed to hers in a hard and demanding kiss. But as his fingers slid into the silky strands at her neck, he didn’t think of Lady Pen’s dark tresses. No, instead brilliant red locks with the slightest kiss of gold flashed to mind. The color of the morning sky on a day when a storm was brewing. A warning.

And as his hands moved to her hips, jerking her body close, he did not think of Lady Pen’s narrow frame but of a woman who was so lush, she’d tempt even the saintliest of men. Damn, but when those plump breasts had crushed to his chest as he’d easily caught her downstairs, his cock had grown solid and had stayed that way. He hadn’t been aroused so quickly in months…years. It was a bit disconcerting, but he pushed the unwelcome thoughts aside.

If he couldn’t have the woman downstairs, Lady Pen would do. She whimpered, parting her lips. Gideon took ruthless advantage by sweeping his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of peppermint, of tea, of wealth. A woman was a woman. So why the hell was he having such a difficult time focusing on Lady Pen? Damn it all, he didn’t bed women to think or enjoy, he was here to forget.

Just as the woman reached up to clutch his shoulder, he pulled away. Aye, he was wicked all right. He purposefully drew her in, only to step back and regard the woman coldly, as if she didn’t matter in the least. She quivered, whimpering in need, those blue eyes begging him for more, although she wouldn’t dare ask, for there was a part of her that feared him. Hair as dark as the night, shoulders broad, he towered over most men. Lady Lavender liked him dressed in black, of course. The scars across his hands didn’t
help put women at ease. They assumed he was soulless…they were right.

“It’s been far too long, my dear,” he said with a hint of admonishment.

“Yes, my lord.” Her breath came out husky, pleading as she toyed with the pearl buttons running down her muslin bodice.

He resisted the urge to laugh at her obvious unease. In the bedroom was the only time when he was considered a lord. He pulled the pin from her bonnet and tore the monstrous hat from her head. Her brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She gasped in mock dismay, as if she hadn’t a clue he would do the deed. Their time together was an orchestrated dance. He led, but she happily participated.

He tossed the hat and pin to the ground and reached for his silky necktie. With deft movements he had the cravat undone and let the ends hang threateningly from either side of his neck. She shivered as her gaze focused on his hands. Large hands covered in scars from the many knife fights he’d gotten into as a lad. A reminder of his past. But when he was inside a woman, his past no longer mattered. He became merely a man. He could forget, at least for a moment, his life.

With a growl, he spun her around so her back fit to his chest. Pressing his lips to her sensitive neck, he slid his hands from her waist, up to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds. He could feel her nipples harden even through the bodice and corset she wore. She was more than eager.

He rubbed his thumbs over those hard pebbles. “Are you ready for me, my dear?”

“Oh yes,” she whispered, arching her back and shifting her bottom so it pressed to his hard cock.

How he despised the thick layers of clothing women wore. The yards of material were a hindrance, making life much more difficult than it needed to be, not to mention rather pointless in his line of work.

Lady Pen panted like a dog that had been left out in the sun. Aye, she wanted him desperately, but they all did. He held her to him with one hand, and with the other, he gripped her bodice and jerked the material low enough that her breasts popped free, those rosy nipples pinched and waiting. She would not fight him; they never did. He spun her around and took one of those peaked buds into his mouth, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin.

“Oh my.” She shivered, her fingers slipping through his hair and pulling almost painfully.

But Gideon waited…waited until she was squirming in his arms, waited until his body burned with a hunger he couldn’t ignore. Only then did he pull away just enough to scoop her up into his arms. Lady Pen liked him to be rough. Most of his women did. They knew exactly what they were getting when they paid for his services.

He tossed her to the bed. She bounced, before settling comfortably upon the deep red blanket. An excited glee sparkled in her brown eyes. He ignored it. Ignored her eager body, her glistening lips. He ignored everything and concentrated on his own need…delving into that desire and forgetting. Forgetting his life. Forgetting his past. Forgetting his future.

He need not spout any romantic drivel, thank God. The women he slept with did not pay to be courted, they paid to be taken. He moved onto the bed, his knees and palms sinking into the tick. She wanted it rough, he’d give her rough. Like an animal on the prowl, he crawled over her. Her lashes fluttered with desire, her breath catching.

Gideon found the hem of her gown and jerked it up to her knees, exposing her long, long legs. Pristine white stockings hugged shapely calves. She might not have red hair and a lush body, but she was an attractive woman and she would do well enough. He slid his fingers along the inside of her leg, her skin pebbled. She wore no undergarments, but he wasn’t surprised. The fewer clothes the better, in his opinion. She whimpered, her hands
moving around his broad shoulders, fingernails biting through the fabric of his waistcoat and shirt.