Pleasure Me (24 page)

She drew in a deep breath and turned to go to him. The moment she laid her hand on his arm, he jerked his head in her direction. She smiled at him and gently pulled him toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth. He hesitated.

“I should go,” he bit out in a rough voice.

“Not yet,” she said quietly. “It’s considered rude to leave a woman’s boudoir so soon after leaving her bed.”

He nodded sharply and allowed her to guide him to one of the pale blue wingback chairs. His tall frame engulfed the chair, and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was. She studied him in silence as he stared at the crackling flames in the hearth. He seemed completely oblivious to her presence, his expression morose. Her heart went out to him.

The man seemed convinced that his lovemaking was worse than lamentable. He was clearly ashamed of his body as demonstrated by his refusal to let her see him naked.
Refusal
wasn’t the right word. He’d seemed paralyzed by her request more than anything else. Helpless almost. The look on his face when she’d told him to undress had been nothing short of sheer terror.

At first she’d thought he was uncomfortable with his size, but the moment he’d slid into her, she’d found herself skidding along an edge of pleasure that had been a delicious torment. He’d been thick and hard between her thighs. And even though his climax had come quickly, she knew once he gained more experience, he’d drive her mad with want. The thought was both intoxicating and frightening at the same time.

With him settled in front of the fire, she went to a small sideboard in one corner of the room where she always kept cognac for her lovers. As she opened the doors, she saw a plate of cheese and hard bread. Dolores. It confirmed what she’d thought from the moment she’d first seen Garrick in her room.

Her maid had been instrumental in seeing to it that he had entrance to her bedroom. She knew she should be irritated that her friend had conspired with Garrick, but she wasn’t. The plate of cheese and bread in one hand, and a tray holding the cognac and glasses in the other, she returned to the fireside. The moment he saw her full hands, Garrick quickly rose to take the tray of liquor from her, the glasses rattling slightly as he set it on the round table between the chairs.

With the small repast on the table, she poured him a glass of the French brandy and offered it to him. As his fingers brushed across hers a shock of electricity raced across her skin. The sensation was enough to make her tremble as she filled her own glass. It was unlike her to drink, but she suddenly had the need for something to steady her nerves. Although the expensive liquor burned as it sped down her throat it served to restore her composure.

She turned her head to study him. His profile was shadowed somewhat, but the firelight revealed his strong, angular jaw. The sensual line of his mouth was a tempting sight as she remembered how exquisite his lips had felt against her skin.

“I suppose I’m a creature of curiosity to you,” he said bitterly without looking at her.

“Not at all.” She tilted her head to one side. “Actually, I was thinking how lucky I am.”

Startled, he turned his head to arch his eyebrow at her. “Lucky?”

“Yes. Of all the women you could have chosen to be your first lover, you chose me.” She sent him a mischievous smile. “Besides, I have never cared for Mrs. Campton, and to know that you chose me over her is quite exuberating.”

He laughed, and the sound pleased her. At least he wasn’t looking quite so dour, and his laughter softened the harsh planes of his face. It was easy to understand why the women he’d never bedded had lied about being his lover. She knew what it was like to feel the sting of his rejection.

But of all the women in the Set, she was the privileged one. He’d chosen her as his tutor. There was more than a little sense of triumph at the thought, particularly where Louise Campton was concerned. The woman had insulted her on more than one occasion, and there was little love lost between them. Her gaze focused on Garrick, and she was happy to see his features had softened.

“There, that’s better,” she said softly. “You look much more relaxed.”

“Do I?” The note of skepticism in his voice made her send him an admonishing glance.

“Yes. I want you to always feel comfortable here.” She took another sip of brandy as he studied her for a minute before returning his gaze to the fire.

“I always feel that way when I’m in your company, Ruth.” It was a simple statement that warmed her heart as she studied his profile.

“I’m glad.” She smiled as she leaned forward to see his face in its entirety. There was still a grim twist to the corners of his mouth. “Tell me about your family.”

The question made him look at her in surprise before a small smile curved his sensual mouth. It was a mouth designed for pleasuring a woman until she was begging for a release only he would be able to give. The images flooding her head made her swallow hard, and she set her glass down on the table in order to regain her composure. When she looked at him again, his expression had lightened somewhat from the morose one that had darkened his features a moment ago.

“You’ve already met Lily. Who, by the by, will be abjectly humble the next time she sees you. She’s sincerely sorry for the pain she caused you.”

The statement caught her off guard, and her eyes widened before she quickly looked away from him. The unpleasantness with his sister had been distinctly uncomfortable for many reasons.

“Her visit wasn’t a new experience for me, and I’m certain her heart was in the right place where you’re concerned. Just as it should be.” Unwilling to discuss the matter further, she swiftly diverted his attention. “And the rest of your family?”

“Vincent is our bookworm. He has a habit of spending more time in our library than socializing with the Set. Although he’s recently developed a fondness for certain soirees where a particular young lady is present. Something I intend to discuss with him when the opportunity presents itself.” A dark scowl crossed his face.

“Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?” she scolded gently as she smiled at him. “As I recall, you weren’t all that happy with your sister’s interference in your relationship with me.”

“Lily’s interest in my affairs was inappropriate. She’s not the head of the family. I am. And it’s my duty to ensure that my siblings marry people who will love and care for them properly.” His mouth thinned to a firm line as an expression of unyielding determination hardened his handsome features.

“An admirable goal, but the heart cannot be dictated to,” she said quietly.

“Perhaps not, but I’ve seen to it that Grace will be happy, and I am determined to do the same for Vincent.”

His omission of Lily made her frown. Was Lady Lynmouth’s marriage an unhappy one? Ruth knew little about the Earl of Lynmouth as the man rarely came to town, and Lily’s appearance at St. Agnes’s had been the first time she’d met Garrick’s sister. Had his attempts to ensure the happiness of his siblings been far from successful?

“And Lily? You were able to ensure her happiness?”

The sudden expression of regret on his face told her Lily’s marriage was anything but happy. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. The sorrow emanating off him made Ruth reach out to touch his arm in a silent show of support. He didn’t open his eyes.

“Lily refuses to discuss Lynmouth with me or anyone. I would never have consented to the marriage if I’d thought she would get hurt.” There was a touch of despair in his voice that emphasized how responsible he felt for his sister’s happiness.

“You’ve always looked after them, haven’t you?”

“Beresford, my uncle, wasn’t a pleasant man. I once saw him whip a stableboy not quite as old as me until the boy’s back was stripped of flesh.” He emptied his brandy snifter, which Ruth quickly replenished. “I learned to draw the man’s wrath down on my own head in order to keep the others safe from harm.”

“Did he beat you?”

“Sometimes.” His expression was unreadable as he nodded his head.

The brusque response said Garrick’s uncle had done much more than beat him. Clearly, the man was a monster. She didn’t know how, but she was certain Beresford was responsible for Garrick’s emotional emasculation. Whatever his uncle had said or done to him, Garrick had come to believe that women would find his body repulsive in some way. And she was certain it was why he’d refused to bare himself in front of her.

A sudden sharp pain pierced her breast and made her draw in a quick breath. Sweet heaven, if Beresford had violated—no, please God no. Did she even dare ask the question? She swallowed the knot in her throat. Not only was it none of her business, but she’d said she wanted him to be comfortable here. Asking pointed questions would accomplish nothing, and would only make him feel ill at ease. He would tell her what he wanted . . . when he wanted.

His secrets were his to share or keep hidden. More importantly, she wanted to offer him sanctuary and peace, something she was sure he’d not had a great deal of in his life. Suddenly she wanted to cry, and she turned her head just a bit to swipe away a tear that had escaped. A strong hand grasped her forearm to tug on it gently. She jerked her gaze back to him.

“You’re crying.” He scowled at her as she shook her head.

“No. A piece of ash flew into my eye.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ruth,” he said gruffly as he leaned closer to catch her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Are you crying for me?”

His amazement was easy to see, and she slowly nodded her head. An odd emotion flashed in his blue eyes, but it was impossible to read because it vanished so quickly. His thumb lightly rubbed across her bottom lip before he released her to recline in his chair again. Uncertain of what to say, she realized the tension between them had escalated again, and not in a good way.

“No one has ever cried for me before.” The words were so soft, she wasn’t sure she’d heard them at first. She stared at him in surprise.

“Not even your sisters?”

“Grace was too young to really understand what was happening in the house.” His features could have been solid granite for all the emotion he displayed, and his voice was just as devoid of feeling. “Unlike you, Lily had no real knowledge of what life was like for me with Beresford in the house. I managed to keep most of it from her and Vincent.”

“Just like you hide it from them now.” Her soft statement made him jerk his head toward her. “If you let them, or anyone else, see your pain, you think it would make you less of a man in their eyes.”

Although his expression didn’t change, there was a dark emotion in his vivid blue eyes as he jerked his gaze in her direction. In that instant, she wanted to kill Beresford for the injuries he’d inflicted on Garrick. She understood the deep pain that others could inflict.

The pain of her father’s rejection was always with her. It wasn’t something she allowed herself to contemplate often, but the ache never eased. And she would never be able to forgive her father for what he’d done to her mother. Her father wasn’t directly responsible for her death, but his actions had made her mother give up on living.

Like her, Garrick had endured pain at the hands of others and refused to give way to the hurt. Both of them had hid their feelings from the world to etch out their lives under their own terms. They’d survived despite the pain others had caused them, and they’d hidden the torture that survival had caused. The reflection made her remember what she was, and she flinched.

Their experiences had shaped them and made them hide their vulnerabilities. And she was terribly vulnerable where Garrick was concerned. He was completely oblivious to his ability to leave a woman breathless when he offered up that wicked smile of his.

Then there was the darkness buried deep beneath the surface that enticed her—mesmerized her. The force of his personality drew her to him with an intensity that excited more than frightened her. In truth, the man held far more sway over her than she cared to admit. She reached for Garrick’s hand, determined to alleviate his emotional pain as much as she could.

“I think another subject matter would make both of us feel better. What if we plot the demise of those miscreants we find despicable and repulsive?” she asked mischievously as she smiled at him. “I know quite a few in the Set who the world would be better off without.”

Her words lightened his features considerably as he offered her a half smile. “Again with this bloodthirsty mind-set. It’s a side of you I’ve not seen before.”

“It would be madness for me to display it often. I might lose all hope of enticing suitors into my company.”

“I’ve told you before that you underestimate yourself,” he said quietly. The emotion flickering in his blue eyes sent her heartbeat skidding out of control. In an effort to regain her equilibrium, she leaned toward him with a flirtatious smile.

“Well, I must confess I enjoy having a handsome man in my bedroom. Especially one who’s such an apt pupil.”

“Pupil?” He shook his head in silent refusal.

“Yes, and I won’t take no for an answer,” she said with a seductive smile.

She set her brandy aside and pulled a small piece of bread off the loaf Dolores had included with the cheese. Her hand outstretched, she offered the morsel to him. As he reached out to take it from her, she pulled her hand back.

“No, make it the sensual act of a lover,” she said firmly.

Once more she extended her hand as she sent him an arch look. He eyed her carefully for a moment. She was certain he was about to turn away when she saw a flash of emotion cross his face. In that instant, she saw how quickly her liaison with him could become dangerous. She watched in fascination as he leaned forward to slowly nip at her fingertips with his teeth as he took the morsel from her.

His gaze didn’t leave hers as he ate the bread. The air in her lungs disappeared as she struggled to breathe while watching him. The man was a born seducer. He just didn’t realize it—or maybe he did. The one thing she was certain of was no woman would stand a chance with him if he made up his mind to have her.