Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) (9 page)

“Yes, Mungo, I am quite sure,” she replied. “You know Lord Weston. He has graciously asked to drive me home, tonight. And I have consented.”

Mungo gave a look of warning.

As if in reply, Lord Weston said, “Have no fear, Mr. Church. Your mistress will come to no harm while in my presence. You have my word upon it.”

Mungo seemed appeased by this assurance, and even smiled good-naturedly. “I ’ave no fear o’ that, milord. For I know ye still remember me ’ands about yer neck, squeezin’ it like a grape.” He nodded to Prudence. “I shall see ye tomorrow, Miss.” With that, the huge man disappeared into the shadows.

And then she was alone with Lord Weston. Save for the hired coachman who sat placidly on top of the carriage, seemingly detached from the whole scene.

Lord Weston opened the door. He took her hand. And in a moment, she was sitting beside him in the plush cab as they rolled down the dark street. Where they were going, she didn’t know or care.

“You have nothing to fear, Prudence,” Lord Weston said. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that,” she said.

“Nothing will happen tonight unless you wish it. As I said, I want only the pleasure of your company. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” she repeated.

She saw the angled planes of his face in the shadowy darkness, lit by the coach lamps that swung outside. She was drawn to his eyes—dark and glittery like a moonlit pool she was being dared to dive into.

“I thought we’d drive for awhile,” he said, his voice velvety soft. “See the sights of London at night.”

Prudence nodded.

“But while we’re driving,” he said, “I might do this…”

He raised her hand to his lips, pressing his mouth to her skin. Over and over he kissed the back of her hand…the palm of her hand…the length of each finger. Prudence felt hot shivers dance up and down her spine at his wicked attentions.

He pushed the cloak further up her arm, exposing more of her bare skin to the ministrations of his mouth. His lips were soft, yet completely masculine. They blazed a possessive trail over her wrist, up her forearm, in the crook of her elbow, and at that, she caught her breath.

He looked up, then bent his head again. In fascination Prudence watched as he continued slowly kissing her trembling skin. The subtle smell of him, soft and spicy, invaded her senses.

All in all, she thought she might swoon.

No other man had ever done this to her before. She found herself entranced by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his big, solid body moving around as he inched closer and closer to her.

Certainly, she’d endured a few chaste kisses from the suitors of her youth, but nothing like this.

It was unbearable, and yet she didn’t want it to stop.

Prudence closed her eyes as Lord Weston’s lips reached her bare shoulder. Gently, he turned her face toward his, and Prudence heard herself give a little moan as his mouth finally touched hers.

What his lips had been doing all the way up her arm, they now did to the mouth that trembled beneath his. Warm and wet, his mouth caressed hers with perfect skill.

At least, Prudence thought it must be perfect—it
felt
perfect—even though she hadn’t much to compare it to. With his tongue, he parted her lips further, and she obeyed his command without protest.

He pressed her back into the plush seat, encircling her with his arms and pulling her powerfully against him.

Her limbs were going to jelly. She was dizzy…yet how she could be dizzy while sitting down, she didn’t know.

He cradled her face in his hands and regarded her, his eyes heavy-lidded and filled with undeniable passion.

“Oh, my beauty,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck and kissing her there, too. Prudence felt delicious little shivers ripple over every inch of her skin and steal her breath away. And as he continued kissing her there, Prudence pulled him closer, for she could do nothing else.

“Patience, my sweet,” he whispered.

“Prudence,” she corrected breathlessly.

“I know,” he said, chuckling. “
Patience
, Prudence.”

“Oh, I see. Of course.” And she laughed at herself, too.

All this kissing must be addling her brain
, she thought.

Perhaps that was why some people campaigned against it. But it was no matter. The only thing that mattered to her right now was the wicked, wicked pleasure that this devilish lord was tempting her with.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asked, bending his head to kiss the hollow of her neck.

“No,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

“Then one could say, you are learning something new.”

“I most certainly am.”

Oh why was he talking and not kissing
?

He looked into her eyes again, his mouth curved into a sensuous smile. “Then, you are enjoying the lesson?”

She looked away, feeling her face flush.

But he tipped it back to look at him. “It is a simple question, Prudence. And an honest one. Doesn’t every teacher want to know if the pupil is enjoying the lesson?”

He kissed her shoulder again, and her collarbone, and nibbled her ear. “I just want to know,” he murmured, “if you are enjoying it?”

She swallowed and looked into eyes that seemed to gaze right through to her very soul. “Yes, my lord…I am.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you called me by my Christian name?” he asked. “I confess, I have a desire to hear it on your lips.” To further his point, he kissed them.

“Alfred,” she said, finally.

“Hmm,” he purred, kissing her nose. “You are an apt pupil. And you have made your teacher very proud. I think you deserve a reward—
more kissing
.”

Prudence gripped his shoulders as he kissed her more deeply. She pulled him closer, revelling in the sensation of his strong, solid body against the softness of hers.

His kiss grew more fervent, more demanding, yet she felt light as air. A flood of warmth seemed to take over her whole body. She was growing uncomfortable, restless. She wanted something—but what?

For all her book-knowledge, Prudence knew terribly little about the affairs between men and women. Though she knew the basic facts of physiognomy, she knew nothing of what would really happen during any intimacies with a man.

This kissing, for instance. She had known what it was. Had even done it herself a few times. But never like this.

No one had ever told her the physical reactions it would ignite within her trembling body. No one had ever told her that her limbs, and her willpower, would turn to mush. No one had ever told her how she would feel feverish, weak and dizzy. And certainly, no one had ever told her how wonderful it would feel to be held in a man’s arms and kissed absolutely senseless.

Alfred lowered his mouth and began kissing a trail between her breasts. Prudence felt her heart race alarmingly, but not with fear.

With something far more frightening.

Just then, the carriage jolted to a halt.

Alfred paused, then raised his head and looked around. His hair was slightly tousled, and his eyes blazed with heat as he sat back, running his hands through his hair.

Prudence was confused. Why had they stopped? And more importantly, why had
he
stopped?

Alfred adjusted his jacket and cuffs, saying, “We have arrived, Miss Atwater.”

“What?” Her mind was muddled. “Where?”

“At the Atwater School. I promised to see you home, and you are now home,” he said, and his voice seemed to be tinged with frustration.

He seemed so cool sitting there across from her. Where was the heated angel who had made her melt in his arms only moments ago?

“I encourage you to arrange yourself,” he said. “The coachman has hopped down, and will soon open the door.”

Something made her obey him, though it wasn’t conscious thought. She was still too muddled from all the kissing for that. Quickly, she pulled the cloak around her bare shoulders, and covered her head with the hood.

The door swung open.

Alfred hopped out onto the street, and then reached in to help her down.

When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled slightly, and she clutched at Alfred for balance. He walked her to the door, one strong arm about her waist, and his other hand holding hers. In moments they were at the front door, and he turned her to face him.

Prudence looked up into Alfred’s eyes, which moments ago had been heated with fire, and now were shuttered and unreadable. He made a courtly bow, and chastely kissed her hand.

“Thank you for allowing me to see you home, Miss Atwater,” he said.

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but what it was, she couldn’t say.

“Consider your debt paid in full,” he said, abruptly heading toward the coach.

With that, he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Then the carriage rolled away, leaving Prudence standing at the steps of the Atwater School, as she tried in vain to make sense of what just happened.

Chapter 9

Mr. Cage tasted the girl’s lips again. She was putting on a good show, trembling in his lap, clad only in her chemise. He had to give her credit. After all, little Effie was a virgin.

He had paid top price for her. And her drunken oaf of a father hadn’t seemed to mind. When his pretty young daughter cried out for mercy at being sold to a stranger, the repulsive man had pushed her away. His only concern had been counting Mr. Cage’s gold guineas.

And now little Effie Sinclair, late of Shropshire, was the ‘Silver Rose’s’ newest acquisition. Cage was certain that the sixteen-year-old beauty would earn back what he’d paid for her within a week.

A knock sounded on the chamber door.

“Come in, Mr. Grimes,” he said, knowing exactly who it was, and why he had come.

The oak door opened, and the tall, thin form of Jeremiah Grimes passed through into Cage’s private rooms.

Cage always had rooms on the first floor of each of his brothels, usually off the main salon. This one, at the favorite of his clubs, was the height of luxury, boasting zebra-hide rugs, silk draperies from his travels to the Orient, furniture in plush burgundy velvet, and a huge four-poster bed that was, of course, the centerpiece. After all, it was where he did his best work.

Grimes stepped through the doorway and Cage felt Effie tense in his arms. She looked fearfully from one man to the other.

Cage patted her arm. “Not to worry, my dear. Mr. Grimes has not come for you. He has come to see me on important business.” He pushed her off his lap like an indulgent parent now tired of his child’s company. “Run along, now, Effie. Pierrette will continue your lessons. She is waiting for you upstairs. Go on now, child.”

He scooted her back through the study and toward the door. She looked over her shoulder at him with those wide, uncertain eyes. He closed the door, then slowly turned to his visitor.

“Now, Mr. Grimes. You have news?”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. “I saw ’er again, tonight. In Drury Lane. Seems to be ’er favorite spot.”

“Are you certain she’s the one?” Cage asked.

Grimes nodded, folding his cap in his hands before him, demonstrating that he knew his place.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I talked to a couple o’ girls who said she’d been tryin’ to get them to come home with ’er. To some school or other.”

“Intriguing. What else?”

“Said ’er name was Miss Prudence Atwater.”

Cage leaned back on his desk, running his fingers through his thick silver hair. “And she is the one who has been talking my girls into leaving the streets? She is the one who has been stealing money from me?”

“Could be, sir,” Grimes said. “Though she did go off with a man last night in a fancy carriage. Looked like ’e was a customer.”

“Was there a coat of arms on the coach?” he asked.

“It was hired, sir. No way to tell who it was had ’is pleasure with ’er.”

“Pity,” Cage said, annoyed. He was not used to Grimes being unable to answer every question with perfect certainty. That was why he had Grimes on the payroll. The man was very, very good at finding things out.

And if you wanted someone to disappear for awhile, or to disappear forever…he was good at that, too.

“Find out more, Grimes,” he poured himself a glass of claret. “Look into this school. See if it’s the same girl who runs it. I want to be absolutely sure before we act further. Keep me informed.”

“Sir,” Grimes said, giving a nod, and then left Cage alone in the study.

He sat down in the leather wing chair, sipping the claret, taking the time to taste the exquisite flavor. He never rushed such things. He had learned a long time ago to be patient when taking his pleasure.

Soon, Grimes would have the information he wanted. And then he would carry on with the next stage in his plan. First, they would need irrefutable proof that Miss Atwater was the one responsible for his recent financial losses. And if she was, then she would be taken care of. But first, the chit would be forced to pay back what she owed him.