Pleasure Me (27 page)

Making love to Ruth had exceeded every erotic dream he’d ever had about her, or any woman for that matter. She’d not just instructed him on how to please her. She’d made him feel comfortable in her bed. It made her all the more beautiful to him. The gentle sound of her breathing brushed across his senses, and for the first time in memory something he could only describe as peace washed over him.

He closed his eyes to revel in the warmth of her curled up into his side. Contentment wasn’t something he was acquainted with, but this came close. Deep inside, the fear and panic rose up to pound away at him, warning him not to let her get under his skin. He winced. That was water under the bridge. After tonight, it would be damned difficult to let her go. She uttered a soft murmur against his chest. He looked down at her and realized she was asleep. Had he worn her out with their lovemaking?

It was impossible not to feel a small sense of pride at the possibility. She’d said he’d pleased her, and he believed her. It filled him with a sense of satisfaction. The emotion vanished as old doubts pushed their way back into his head.

She was a courtesan. It was her job to please him, to tell him what he wanted to hear. He frowned as he looked down at her. Had she lied to him? Uncertainty held him hostage as he studied her lovely features. Instinct warred with doubt for a long time before he brushed a lock of hair off her cheek.
No.
He refused to believe she’d lied to him. There was no reason for her to do so. He yawned and breathed in her sweet smell.

The scent of her caressed his senses, and it was the last thing he remembered until his eyes fluttered open to see the dawn lighting the room. Groggy, he frowned as he pushed his way out of the depths of sleep. This didn’t look like his rooms at Seymour Square or Chiddingstone House.

In a split second, the night before came rushing back to him as he recognized Ruth’s lush curves cradled against him. Her back pressed against his chest, while her bottom spooned deliciously into his lower body. His arm was wrapped around her in a possessive fashion, and his cock stirred in his trousers at the soft curve of her breast just above his fingers.

As badly as he wanted to pull back the sheet covering her and make love to her again, he didn’t. He needed to get the hell out of here and try to take in everything that had happened since last night. Everything in his world was upside down, and he wasn’t sure what it meant going forward. Last night had been incredible, but if he continued down this path there would eventually be a reckoning.

He needed time to think about the consequences of what had happened. As quietly as he could, he pulled away from her and slipped out of the bed. She protested with a soft murmur before burrowing into her pillow. He hated leaving her without saying good-bye, but he was afraid of what would happen if he stayed.

The risks he’d taken last night would double in the bright morning light. He glanced down at his rumpled trousers. Damnation, he couldn’t go home to Chiddingstone House looking like he’d slept in his clothes. He’d have to go to Seymour Square. Later today he could send several extra pair of trousers to Ruth’s house.

The progression of his thoughts dismayed him. Automatically assuming his relationship with Ruth would continue without considering the risks was a dangerous thing to do. With a quiet grunt, he quickly gathered the remainder of his clothes scattered between the bed and the fireside. When he was dressed, he looked back at Ruth.

While she slept, the sheet had slipped downward to reveal a lovely breast, and his mouth went dry as he remembered suckling her the night before. The memory instantly made him hard as a rock, and he ached to take her again and again until she was out of his system. He ignored the mocking laughter in the back of his head at the possibility of succeeding. He moved to the secretary near the window to retrieve pen and paper.

Staring down at the paper, he tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a smitten schoolboy. In the end, he settled for a brief message that he’d escort her to supper and then the Westerham affair this evening. He deliberately omitted the fact that supper would be in the company of Grace and her fiancé. Somehow he knew she would balk at the idea of meeting his youngest sister. And he wanted Grace to meet her. She would like Ruth as much as he did. He ignored the question of why it was so important to him that the two women meet. He left the note on the bedside table then quietly left the room.

Downstairs, he met Simmons coming out of the back hall. Aware of his disheveled state, he expected the butler’s eyebrows to rise. When the man simply bowed his head in a polite greeting, Garrick awkwardly acknowledged the man.

“Shall I hail a hansom cab for you, my lord?” The man’s offer sent relief rushing through him. The possibility of someone seeing him so untidy had just decreased immensely.

“Thank you, Simmons.”

With a nod, the man disappeared through the front door as Garrick paced the hall floor. He wasn’t sure whether his nervousness was due to the possibility of Ruth coming after him or the fact that it was a struggle not to race back up the stairs to her. Moments later, Simmons reentered the house to announce he’d secured a cab. He nodded his thanks at the butler and headed out the door.

As he hurried down the front steps, he saw a carriage roll to a stop several doors up the street. At the same moment, he saw young Worthington emerge from the town house. Startled, he paused for a brief second on the sidewalk just as the younger man jogged down the steps toward his carriage.

Almost as if aware he wasn’t alone in his early morning departure, Worthington turned his head toward Ruth’s house. Embarrassment darkened the younger man’s cheeks as he offered a sharp nod in Garrick’s direction then bolted into his carriage. Following the other man’s lead, he climbed into the cab and ordered the driver to proceed to Seymour Place.

Several minutes later, he emerged from the vehicle and strode quickly up the steps to unlock the front door of the town house. As he crossed the hall toward the stairs, he called for Carstairs. The butler quickly appeared in the foyer.

“Have Willie bring up hot water for my bath.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And send the boy . . .” He frowned as he tried to remember the lad’s name.

“Samuel, my lord?”

“Yes. Have him fetch Blackstone.” He continued up the stairs. “I want the man here in an hour.”

When he entered his bedroom, he slammed the door shut behind him in a fit of frustration. Christ Jesus, what had he been thinking last night? He hadn’t. His cock had done all his thinking for him. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d broken every rule he’d ever made when it came to his involvement with women.

But Ruth had been impossible to resist. How the hell Marston or any other man had been willing to part with her was beyond his comprehension. The problem facing him now was how to avoid repeating his mistake of last night. And God help him, it was a mistake he wanted to make over and over again with her, even though he recognized the folly of it.

The fact was, she’d made it so easy for him to break his vow never to bed a woman. She was a courtesan, trained in the art of pleasing a man, but last night she’d shown him the other attributes of her trade. She’d emphasized that her skills weren’t just about offering up her body to a man for their mutual pleasure.

Her talents also meant seeing to her lover’s comfort. Something she’d done with remarkable skill. In allowing him to tie her to the bed the first time, she’d displayed a trust in him that he found amazing. Even more astounding had been her ability to read him so well that she’d offered him another scarf to blindfold her.

The trust she’d placed in him had enabled him to experience the delights of a woman’s body, something he’d never thought to enjoy in his lifetime. He winced as he recalled his first effort with her. It had been a disastrous event. One she’d excused with a gentleness that had eased his acute embarrassment.

A knock on the bedroom door pulled him out of his thoughts as Willie entered the room with hot water. The young footman quickly filled the bath then darted out the door to retrieve more. It took the servant another fifteen minutes to fill the tub with steaming water, and all the while, Garrick paced the floor reflecting on the previous night’s events. When the door closed behind the footman for the last time, he strode across the room and turned the key as was his usual habit.

Quickly shrugging out of his jacket and then his shirt, he stopped to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Just thinking about Ruth, and the way she’d caressed his chest with her sweet lips, aroused him still. Not only had she made him believe he was the most important man in the world, she’d desired him. He had no doubts about that.

The fiery passion in her gaze had been bold and uninhibited. Other women had looked at him just as boldly, but they’d never succeeded in stirring his senses the way Ruth did. She’d seduced him with ease, and his ability to subdue his own desire had been nonexistent.

He grunted as he moved to stand in front of the oak washstand. Hot water splashed out of the blue-speckled porcelain pitcher into the matching basin, a few drops stinging his hand. Instead of letting the water sit for a moment, he splashed it onto his face in a form of penitence. If he’d known what would happen last night he would never have attempted to see her again.

As he viciously mixed his shaving cream into a stiff lather, he grimaced with disgust. He’d told Ruth he couldn’t abide someone lying to him, and he was doing just that to himself. Nothing would have stopped him from seeing her last night. He just hadn’t expected things to proceed in the direction they had. Nor had he anticipated talking so openly with her.

Last night he’d shared things with Ruth he’d never told anyone. Things he’d never thought possible to share as easily as he’d done with her. She’d listened quietly and without judgment. Would she have been equally sympathetic if he’d told her the complete truth? The thought made him quickly lather his face then slam the shaving mug down on the washstand. Only a fool would think such a thing.

He reached for his razor and brushed it rapidly back and forth across the leather strap hanging off the side of the oak furniture. When the blade was ready for use, he scraped it across his skin with quick, sure strokes. As he shaved, he recalled his reaction when he’d realized Ruth was crying for him. It had twisted his heart with an emotion he hadn’t wanted to label then nor did he wish to now.

Even though she didn’t know the true cause of his suffering, she’d spilled tears he’d never been able to shed himself. It was as if she understood everything he’d been through. He could only believe her own life experiences had been the reason for her empathy. She’d shared enough of her past for him to know that her life might have been vastly different if her father had been less of a bastard. The last bit of shaving cream removed from his face, he quickly finished undressing and slid into the bath.

The water was still hot, but it wasn’t as hot as Ruth had been in his arms. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the cool porcelain. She’d seduced him. There wasn’t any other way to describe it. She’d quietly broken through every one of his defenses and enticed him to make love to her. It had been erotic and incredible.

The problem facing him now was where to go from here. Last night had been an unbelievable introduction into the pleasures she had to offer, and like a powerful drug, he wasn’t sure he could give her up easily, despite the risk involved. Even if he could avoid the temptation of her bed, it wasn’t possible for him to just walk away from her.

The pleasure of her company was something he enjoyed too much. When he was with her, things were simple and comfortable. He just wasn’t sure which way to turn where she was concerned.

If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was not having a plan of attack. Having a blueprint to follow meant he was prepared if something went wrong. Being unprepared meant being exposed to unknown possibilities, things that could make him vulnerable. He grabbed the bar of soap off the dish and savagely rubbed it over his body.

He’d find a way to address his problem with Ruth later. He needed to clear his head for a while, think of something else for the time being. Answers always came to him if he forgot about the problem for a short time. At the moment he needed to find out what Blackstone had discovered. The man had been watching his uncle for several years now, and had taken to observing the Viscount Tremaine as well. Blackstone would know how often the two men had met over the last several weeks.

It didn’t take him long to finish bathing, and less than a half hour later he stepped into the study to find Blackstone sitting in one of the chairs situated in front of the large mahogany desk. The minute the man saw Garrick, he sprang to his feet.

“Good morning, my lord.”

Bowler hat in hand, the husky man bowed slightly. Watching his uncle for the past several years wasn’t the only thing John Blackstone had done for him. The man had taken on numerous roles whenever it came to fulfilling Garrick’s directives. Garrick circled the desk to sit in the large leather office chair. With a gesture toward the chair Blackstone had been occupying, he silently told the man to retake his seat.

“Well? What do you have to report?”

“Beresford owes Lord Tremaine money, my lord. A great deal of money.”

“How much?”

“Ten thousand pounds, maybe more.”

Garrick drew in a sharp breath. With that kind of a hold on his uncle, Tremaine might easily know the truth. That night at the Marlborough Club, the bastard had been far too smug for his comfort then or now.

“How often do they meet?”

“Two or three times a week. They spend a great deal of time in gaming establishments or brothels. Lord Tremaine generally backs Beresford at the card table, paying off his debts when your uncle loses.” Blackstone scowled darkly. “Their brothel visits have seen them banned from the more respectable whorehouses. Your uncle whipped one girl who objected to being buggered. She was barely conscious when he sodomized her anyway.”