Pleasuring the Lady (The Pleasure Wars) (24 page)

Instead of judgmental, those around them now looked…
confused
. She couldn’t blame them. Had Miles just claimed her on the dance floor? If she had seen their dance from afar, would she judge them to be a real and happy couple?

What a fallacy.

They reached the edge of the crowd to find Ava and Christian had been joined by Miles’ sister Tennille and her husband Richard. Portia forced a smile, for she wanted Tennille to like her.

“Good evening, my darlings, I am so sorry we’re late,” Tennille said with a smile as she pressed a kiss to first Miles’ cheek and then surprised Portia by repeating the action to her. “Don’t you look beautiful?”

Portia glanced down. Everyone kept saying that, and she could admit that the expensive, perfectly fitted gown did flatter her, but did it truly make her pretty? She had never judged herself as such.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to squeak out.

Tennille smiled. “But you must be thirsty after the dance—won’t you join me at the punch bowl?”

Her husband immediately stepped forward. “I would be glad to fetch drinks for all the ladies.”

Tennille smiled at him but waved him away with one hand. “And deprive me of the chance to gossip with my new sister? For shame, my love.”

Everyone else laughed, but Portia couldn’t help but tense. If Tennille wanted to speak to her alone, what would she say? She had been very kind so far, but that could easily change if she had done something wrong.

“Of course I would be pleased to join you,” Portia choked out, sending a quick look to Ava in the hopes her friend would save her.
 

But Ava smiled broadly and instead slipped to the dance floor with her husband. Christian’s limp from old injuries kept him from dancing much, but he did so from time to time, with his wife’s encouragement.

Portia swallowed hard and jolted as Tennille linked arms with her and drew her away from their husbands. As they moved slowly through the crowd, her sister-in-law squeezed her gently.

“I must say, you and my brother looked very happy during the waltz.”

Portia sent a side-glance to Tennille. “He is a fine dancer. I’m certain he makes any partner look vastly improved.”

Tennille laughed. “Perhaps, but that was not what I meant.” She nodded to a few ladies who smiled at her then looked at Portia with uncertainty.
 

She blushed at the pointed nature of Tennille’s stare. “Then what was your meaning? I’m apparently too daft to guess it.”

There was a crowd around the table with the punch, so Tennille stopped and turned toward Portia.
 

“I meant you looked
happy
. Your smiles and laughter and the way he did not remove his gaze from you tell me you two are connected.”

Portia dropped her chin. Connected. Perhaps physically, yes, but he made it so clear that there could be nothing more to it than that.

“After everything my brother has been through…” Tennille began, then trailed off with a shake of her head.

Portia stopped worrying about herself and instead focused her attention on her sister-in-law.
 

“Been through?” she repeated, trying to picture whatever she could mean.
 

Miles had lived a rather charmed existence as far as she could see. He had lost his parents young, of course, and that obviously troubled him based on their brief conversation in the carriage. But he had never seemed to suffer or want for anything.

Tennille bit her lip. “He wouldn’t want me to go into detail, and it is a tale a husband should tell a wife, no one else. But Portia, remember that sometimes scars are not where they can be seen by all. My brother has suffered…and I hope that you will keep that in mind if he says or does things that—” She stopped with a shake of her head. “I’ve said too much. I’m sorry.”

Portia stared at her sister-in-law, but before she could say anything further, space opened at the refreshment area and the two women wedged their way into the crowd to take their punch.

But as they returned to their husbands and Tennille changed the subject to more benign topics, Portia couldn’t help but wonder what she didn’t know about Miles.

And if he had suffered some unknown pains, what more they had in common than a mere physical attraction.

Chapter Eighteen

It was after midnight when the carriage pulled away from the home of the Duke and Duchess of Laurelgreen and into the busy streets of London. It had been a hectic night and yet Miles felt strangely at peace as he sat, Portia tucked up against him, his arm around her and the silly fabric butterfly he had created earlier in the evening perched in her lap. Her eyes were closed, a tiny smile on her face.

Just that small expression made his heart swell with pride and pleasure.

“You survived the night,” he murmured.

She opened one eye to look at him and the smile grew. “I did. Thanks entirely to you, your family and our friends. Somehow by the end of the evening, even the congratulations on our marriage were beginning to sound sincere. Perhaps I imbibed in too much punch.”

He laughed, though he knew the humor of her self-deprecation hid a deeper discomfort with her place in the world. But perhaps that would slowly melt away as she felt acceptance
 
from him and from those around her.

“You may have done just that, but I believe those in attendance
were
beginning to see that our forced match is a good one. You were magnificent and you look beautiful.”

He slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face toward his. She sighed just as his lips touched hers and he glided his tongue between them to taste her. She melted against him, her soft fingers weaving into his hair as she arched against his chest with a tiny moan of pleasure.

He drew back to smile at her. “Very nice, but you will have me losing control in this carriage…
again
…if you aren’t careful.”

She tucked her head back into his shoulder. “I recall the last time you lost control in this carriage, it was more than pleasurable for me. So your warning does not discourage me.”

“Good,” he murmured, stroking his hand along hers slowly.
 

It was a long ride and he was in no hurry now. He had all night to seduce and worship her.
 

She began to smooth her hand over his chest gently, tucking it inside his jacket to where his body warmth was trapped. He was about to lift her into his lap and drag her in for another, far more passionate kiss, when she spoke again.

“I had a very interesting, albeit brief exchange with your sister tonight,” she said.

He shook his head. “One does not generally want to discuss one’s sister when one is about to tumble his wife against a carriage seat.”

Her eyes went wide. “Is that what you were about to do?”

He arched a brow. “Do not pretend that you didn’t know, you were most definitely encouraging such an act.”

“Perhaps I was,” she mused, holding his gaze.
 

He could see she would not be deterred and he sighed. “Well, then we must get all talk about Tennille out of your system, mustn’t we? What
very
interesting things did my
very
interesting sister have to say?”

Portia hesitated long enough that Miles’ stare filled with alarm. Perhaps Tennille was unwell or the children had an issue or a thousand other terrors that clenched his heart.
 

“Portia?”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I was only trying to think of a good way to explain. You see, it wasn’t what your sister said, it was what she held back that drew my interest.”

“I-I don’t understand,” he replied, leaning back to look at her more closely in the dim carriage.
 

“She implied that perhaps there is more to your past that I should know about,” she said slowly. “That you have suffered without anyone ever knowing it and that is why you understand my own suffering so well. Is that true?”

Desire left Miles in an instant, replaced with a roaring voice in his head that screamed at him to push away, to lock out, to make her stop. He had already decided not to tell her those intimate secrets and he now fought against her intrusion with all his might.

He ignored that voice, calming himself before he spoke.

“How ridiculous,” he said, but he heard the strain in his own tone. Judging from Portia’s softening expression, so did she.

“Is it?” she whispered.

“Of course,” he snapped, pulling away and forcing her to straighten up so she wouldn’t slump on the seat. “You have reminded me more than once that I have lived a very charmed life, haven’t you?”

She tilted her head, her gaze boring into him as if she were seeing him for the first time. “Charmed for all to see. But there are things that happen behind closed doors that perhaps we never see.”

He flinched. She was far too close to the truth now.

“You are being preposterous.” He pushed to sit across from her in the opposite seat and folded his arms.
 

“Your mother and father both died,” she mused. “How difficult that must have been.”

He measured his breath with difficulty and glared at her. How dare she intrude upon his memories?
 

“Stop,” he growled.

“Your mother died when your sister was born, didn’t she? How old were you?”

“Too young for it to matter,” he lied. “And you are invading a subject that is far too personal.”

“You know of my mother’s madness,” Portia said with a shake of her head. “How much more personal could we go?”

“That is different,” he insisted.

Her brow wrinkled. “How?”

He opened his mouth, but no explanation came. He could think of nothing to say. She didn’t seem to require him to speak though, for she tapped her chin with a forefinger.

“No, I think it isn’t your mother who troubles you, at least not enough to make your sister refer to it. It’s something else.” She shook her head. “You were a man when your father died. We talked about it tonight, but perhaps you miss him more than you let on.”

Miles tensed and his teeth ground as nausea bubbled up inside his stomach. Her saying those things, implying his father was worthy stole all reason from his mind temporarily.
 

“Miss him? I could only wish he would have left this earth a decade before. If I had been more of a man, I would have killed him myself.”

The harsh words echoed in the carriage and Portia flinched back from them, surprise reflected all over her face. He bit back a curse. She had forced his hand and he had lost control. That was something he never did. Ever.

“My apologies,” he began, trying to temper his tone. “I should not have said something so harsh in your company.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, but then she slowly reached her hand out to cover his. “I assure you, I am anything but offended. Miles, I had no idea your relationship with your father was so strained. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. She truly didn’t understand and he could easily accept her apology and distract her with kisses…but as he looked at her, her face open with compassion and acceptance, he again felt the strangest desire to tell her more. To explain what he had spent years pretending away.

“It wasn’t strain,” he found himself choking out with great difficulty. “To say a relationship was strained implies it could be mended. That it is filled with misunderstanding. That could not be further from the truth, no matter what I said to you earlier tonight. I lied to you then to cover up what I didn’t want to share.”

She covered his hand with both of hers now and leaned closer. “Then tell me the truth now if you can.”

He shook his head. “My father brutalized us. I don’t remember a time when his fist was not his preferred method of discipline.”

Portia’s lips parted. “Oh, Miles.”

He shrugged, dismissive of something he could not dismiss. He could not forget. Memories that haunted him even as he pretended they did not exist.

“The worst part was that there was never any why,” he continued, thinking back to those terrible days. “Do something wrong, expect a beating. Do something right, hope you wouldn’t receive a beating. Do nothing, there might be a beating.”

“Did your sister fare as badly?” Portia whispered.

He barely managed a nod, for that question brought him more pain than any other.
 

“Worse, sometimes. I both longed for school and dreaded it. When I was gone for months at a time, I was safe, but she was in his crosshairs. When I was home, I could at least insert myself between them.”

One solitary tear slipped down her cheek, but Portia made no effort to swipe it aside. “You tried to save her.”

“Tried, but more often failed than succeeded, I fear.” He shook his head in disgust with himself. “
That
was why I ended my friendship with your brother, by the way. I could not imagine treating a sister the way he treated you.”

She blinked. “I had no idea any of this was happening. I recall being very young and seeing you with your father. You were formal, yes, but I didn’t sense anything more was amiss.”