Pleasure Me (39 page)

“I think not.” For a simple statement, it had a harshness to it that made her jerk her gaze back to him. An impassive expression hardened his features making it impossible to read his thoughts.

“
What
?” she exclaimed. She’d expected an attempt to persuade her, not an autocratic refusal.

“I will not have others dictate who I choose to be with, nor should you.”

“It is not a question of anyone governing my actions. It’s a question of propriety,” she said with apathy. “I’m too old for you.”

“And yet you agreed to be my mistress knowing full well that I was younger than you. You just didn’t know by how much,” he said with a savage intensity as he closed the space between them.

“Don’t you
dare
lay the blame for this evening at my feet,” she bit out, holding her ground despite the sudden urge to run.

There was far more truth in his statement than she cared to admit, and it made it harder for her to ignore her body’s reaction to his close proximity. Every part of her was suddenly on fire, making it difficult to ignore his delicious male scent, or worse, the tug of desire she felt winding its way through her. Resignation and regret twisted his lips into a thin line.

“No. I take full blame for tonight. If I could take it back, spare you the humiliation, I would. But I can’t.”

“Then spare me any further humiliation and find a new mistress,” she whispered as the full impact of him on her senses threatened to make her give way to the apology in his voice.

“I don’t want another mistress,” he growled. “I want you.”

Despite her desire not to feel anything, the possessive note in his voice sent a shiver of arousal down her back. She shook her head in silent protest, and this time she did retreat. He didn’t give her the chance to widen the distance between them. With lightning speed, his hand grasped her arm, and he pulled her into his arms. The moment his mouth covered hers, the fire of his kiss made her body melt into his without any resistance whatsoever.

Heat pulsed its way wildly through her veins with a speed that startled her. Her heart rejoiced at his touch, rejecting the warnings in the back of her mind as she yielded to the passion spinning a web of delight across her skin. His lips teased and cajoled a fiery response from her, and she moaned softly as his mouth skimmed its way along her jawline to her ear.

“Do you have any idea how exquisite you are?” His breath was a sinful heat against her ear, while his honeyed voice made her legs weaken. “No matter how old you become, your beauty will never fade. You’re timeless in a way other women can only dream of.”

The intense desire threading through his words made her sex tighten in a tactile response that was so strong it was as if he’d physically stroked her. She drew in a sharp breath hoping to hide her reaction to him, but something in his gaze warned her that he knew exactly what she was feeling. Desperately she reminded herself that he’d deceived her—that twelve years was too great a divide between them.

But it was almost impossible to remember anything but the pleasure of his touch when she was still reeling from his kiss. It was even more difficult when he was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. A voice deep inside her fought to reject logic and urged her to take even the smallest bit of happiness she could find with him. It would be a foolish thing to do.

If she thought her heart was breaking now, it wouldn’t survive when he left her in the future. The knot in her throat threatened to choke her as she met his smoldering look. His gaze suddenly narrowed as if he realized she was struggling not to give way to him.

She tried to calm her racing heartbeat as she forced herself to go rigid in his embrace. She was on the verge of succumbing to him, and if she allowed him to see it, he would press her until she surrendered.

“
Timeless
is such a pretty word. Unfortunately it’s wasted on me.”

“Is it?” he rasped. “Your lips say one thing, Ruth, but your body says something completely different.”

The intensity in his voice made her mouth go dry with fear as she stared up into his astute gaze. Dear God, had he surmised the truth? No. He couldn’t have. He would have used the knowledge to his advantage if he suspected she cared for him. Perhaps he fancied himself in love with her. The thought made her heart squeeze painfully in her chest.

It made sense he might be infatuated with her. She was the first woman he’d ever been with. But that wasn’t the same thing as the type of love she felt for him. Even if he did feel a deep affection for her, she would never be able to reconcile herself to the difference in their ages.

She met his gaze and saw the resolute gleam in his blue eyes. He truly thought she would give in to him. If she didn’t break with him now, he would have his way. She had little choice but to drive him away by any means possible, no matter how cruel.

“And you forget that I am trained to respond when a man caresses me.
Any
man,” she said coldly as she pushed her way out of his suddenly lifeless arms. “You were special because you afforded me the opportunity to teach, rather than perform the usual tricks of my trade.”

The heartless words made his head snap back as if she’d hit him. He looked stunned, and her muscles tightened as she fought not to rush forward and beg his forgiveness for her cruel words. In the blink of an eye, his facial expression became cold and empty.

Even the angular planes of his face were drawn tight until the muscles in his jaw were hard and inflexible. The withering look he directed at her drove an icy shard into her heart. With what little self-control she had left, she struggled not to cry out in pain at the contempt in his blue eyes. He took a rigid step back from her and bowed.

“Then I shall not stand in the way of you performing your trade, my lady.”

The scorn in his voice made the insult all the more agonizing. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the salon, the door closing quietly behind him. Rooted in place, she stared after him as the numbness returned. Slowly, she sank to the floor, her arms wrapped around her waist as a cold weariness settled into her limbs. Only one other time in her life had she ever felt so lost as to which way to turn. A tear rolled down her cheek. In the back of her mind, a voice screamed at her to go after him. She ignored it. Another tear landed on her arm as the ache in her chest spread its way into every part of her. The only other man to break her heart was her father, but the pain of losing Garrick was far greater. Unlike her father’s abandonment, Garrick’s departure bit down into her soul in a way that said she would never be whole again. The tears flowed hot and heavy down her cheeks. It was as if she’d awakened to find it was nighttime, only to realize dawn would never come again. Garrick had been right. Her age was little more than a number. She wasn’t afraid of growing old. Her biggest fear was realizing she would never know what it was to be loved.

Ruth stared down at the paperwork in front of her. She’d been sitting inside St. Agnes’s small office for the better part of the day. She’d yet to balance the orphanage’s books, despite her usually meticulous bookkeeping. She frowned at the numbers for another long moment, before she relented to the pressure in her head.

Her pencil falling onto the ledger in front of her, she closed her eyes and gently rubbed her throbbing temples. It had been more than a week since she’d broken off her liaison with Garrick, and every day had been a painful exercise in living. Invitations continued to be delivered, but she’d not accepted any for fear of seeing Garrick.

She was certain some people in the Set would find it amusing to ensure that the two of them were together in the same room, simply to see what might happen. Not even Allegra had been able to console her, although her friend was insistent that Ruth visit Pembroke Hall for an extended visit. She refused despite Allegra’s pleas.

She’d decided to close her town house, until a tenant could be found, and move to Crawley Hall. There was little reason for her to remain in town. The only thing to do now was finish up a few last-minute business matters related to St. Agnes’s. Lord Pembroke had provided her with the names of several strong candidates to attend to the orphanage’s daily operations when she was no longer in town.

The young man she’d finally settled on, James Turcot, was an affable fellow. It was clear he enjoyed children, which meant he would do his best to see to their well-being, not just managing the books. She would still come to town for the quarterly meetings of the orphanage’s board, but the day-to-day task of running the business she would leave to James. He was due to start next week, and she’d already set Dolores to work in preparation for her move to Crawley Hall.

The pain in her head unabated, she retrieved her pencil to study the column of figures she’d yet to calculate properly. The sound of the office door opening made her raise her head, and she stiffened at the sight of the Viscount Tremaine. She immediately opened the desk drawer, her fingers sliding the small pistol out of her drawstring bag for ease of access.

Cunning filled the man’s smile, and she rose to her feet so she would not be at a disadvantage.

“Lord Tremaine,” she said coldly.

“My dear Lady Ruth. I’m delighted to see you again.”

“What do you want, my lord?” She didn’t care that she sounded rude. She neither liked nor trusted the man.

“Straight to the point. I like that in a woman.” His smile sent an icy finger skimming down her spine. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” She arched her eyebrow at him in her haughtiest manner.

“Yes. I’ve learned that Stratfield is no longer your sponsor, and I thought we might get along nicely.”

She could not have been more stunned than if her father had walked into the orphanage to beg her forgiveness. The viscount was clearly amused as he sent her a mocking smile. He was a handsome man, but it was his mannerisms that made him unattractive. Collecting her wits, Ruth shook her head.

“While I am . . . flattered by your offer, I must decline.”

“I urge you not be too hasty in your decision, my dear lady. I think you should consider the far-reaching consequences of your decision.”

The man was gloating. There was no other word for it. She frowned in puzzlement. What sort of consequences could he be referring to? To her knowledge, he had never had anything to do with the orphanage. But what else could he be referring to?

“Consequences, my lord?”

“I’m referring to Stratfield.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Lord Stratfield and I are no longer, as you said, involved.”

The viscount strolled forward, causing her fingers to slip into the desk drawer in search of the comforting ivory grip of her gun. The man’s gaze drifted down to where her hand was, and he smiled as he pointed to the chair facing the desk.

“Perhaps I should explain. May I?” He gestured toward the chair and she nodded then sat down as well. “Lord Stratfield and I are—how shall I put this—not the best of friends. Recently it’s come to light that the man has been attempting to bankrupt me, which I find most distressing.”

“Of course,” she murmured as he eyed her expectantly. The feral smile on his lips made her uncomfortable. The man looked like a wolf hunting its prey.

“However, I’ve acquired a unique piece of information that I believe will make Stratfield reconsider his efforts to meddle in my finances.” Something in the viscount’s manner chilled her, and she immediately feared for Garrick.

“How does any of this involve me?”

“While I’m certain the information I have is enough to persuade Stratfield not to tamper with my finances or that of my informant’s, I prefer to make the stakes a bit more painful for the baron.”

“Again, I fail to see how this affects me.” She folded her hands tightly in front of her and worked hard to keep her expression serene.

“I have it on excellent authority that you’re in love with the young baron.” At the man’s amused smile of confidence, her composure slipped.

“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She could feel a knot swelling in her throat until it was difficult to breathe.

“It’s quite all right, my lady. Your secret is safe with me as long as you agree to help me.”

“If you think to blackmail me with the threat of announcing to the world that I have a tendré for Lord Stratfield then feel free to do so. It will do you no good,” she snapped. Infuriated that the man thought to use her in his attempt to injure Garrick, she sprang to her feet. “I’ve heard quite enough, my lord. I think it’s time you left.”

“You have a fiery spirit, my lady. I see we shall get along famously.”

“I think you’re delusional, Lord Tremaine, and I have no intention of accepting your patronage.” Furious, she wanted to shoot the man for even daring to blackmail her. Palms flat on the desk, she glared at him fiercely. “Now get out.”