The Secrets of a Courtesan (8 page)

“Would you care for a brandy?” she asked. Her cupboard was scarcely creaking under the weight

of wine or spirits but she felt that even if Rowarth refused, she needed a drink for Dutch courage.

He laughed. “You still have a taste for brandy?”

The memories flooded back into Eve’s mind. When they had been together Rowarth had teased

her once about the unladylike pleasure she took in drinking brandy and she had explained that

she liked it because it was expensive, a gentleman’s drink, unlike the rough gin that was sold on

the streets. Rowarth had gone out and bought her a case of the best brandy the very next day and

she had told him that it was not his gift that mattered the most to her, although it touched her, it

was his generosity in wanting to make her happy.

“I do not need a drink,” Rowarth said.

“I do,” Eve said feelingly. She poured for herself, then found that she could not touch the spirit

anyway.

“Eve…” Rowarth came to sit next to her on the sofa. “I am sorry,” he said. “What I made you do

tonight was unconscionable.”

“You did not make me do anything in the end,” Eve said. “I had already decided that you and

Lord Hawkesbury could go to hell in a handcart before I touched Warren Sampson. And I was

well able to deal with Mr. Fortune.”

“He looked very fetching wearing those lilies,” Rowarth said, smiling. The smile faded. “But you

know what I mean. I was utterly in the wrong to coerce you so. It was unforgivable.”

The breath caught in Eve’s throat. She looked at him. He was watching the embers of the fire and

his gaze was somber.

“I regret it more than I can tell you,” he said. “There are no excuses, but I want to explain. I want

you to understand.” Then, as she inclined her head he continued: “To my eternal shame, I was so

angry with you, Eve, angry and bitter. I should have told Hawkesbury what to do with his

commission but when I heard that he had found you all I could think of was to see you again so

that I could prove to myself that you no longer had any power over me.” He looked up, took her

hand, his grip painfully tight. “I think that I feared becoming like my father,” he said softly. “His

divorce case was so scandalous and sordid. It broke him. I was only ten years old but I saw the

change in him. And then he died when I was barely eighteen and I knew my mother’s betrayal

had killed him in the end.” He intertwined his fingers with hers, looking down at their linked

hands. “I was furious that I had almost made the same mistake myself.”

He shifted, his fingers tightening painfully on hers. “Hawkesbury was able to use me because of

that fear and resentment,” he said, “and in return I used you.”

“I understand,” Eve said. Her voice was thick with tears for the boy who had seen his father

broken and betrayed and for the young man who had had to step into his shoes at so young an

age and take on all a grown man’s responsibilities. “It does not matter, Rowarth,” she said. “We

have both made mistakes. It is all done now.”

Rowarth was still holding her hand, his thumb stroking in distracting circles over her palm. “No,

it is not,” he said, and Eve shivered because she knew what was coming. “Tell me what

happened to you, Eve. Why did you run? I do not believe what you told me before. I know that

you loved me, so why did you leave me?”

The grief and the misery wrenched at Eve’s heart. She looked up and met his eyes and saw

nothing but compassion there, all anger spent.

“I cannot tell you,” she said. “Oh, Rowarth, don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me.”

His hand came up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re afraid,” he said softly.

His fingers touched her cheek with aching tenderness, cradling her. “Eve, I have to tell you that

Miles Vickery told me something tonight that I never knew. He saw you on the day you left. He

had come to call on me and he saw Dr. Culpepper leaving, too.”

Eve went very still. Icy shivers chased over her skin. Rowarth’s words had conjured all the fear

and misery of those last days. She struggled to keep the horrible memories locked in the box

where they belonged. She sat silent, her heart breaking.

“Eve…” Rowarth was gentle but relentless and she knew he would not give up now, not until he

had the truth. She felt trapped. Could she relinquish half the secret, explain a little while keeping

those worst, darkest and most devastating of memories safely locked away? She was terrified;

she could never tell the worst of it. Even now it would destroy her.

“Were you ill?” Rowarth asked. “Eve, please—”

Eve gave a little hiccup between laughter and tears. “I was not ill. I was pregnant.”

There was a moment’s silence while Rowarth thought about this. “Did you leave because you

thought I would not want our child?” His voice was rough. “Surely you knew me better than

that? You knew I wished to marry you—” He broke off as Eve shook her head violently.

“It was not that,” she said. “I lost the baby, Rowarth. I had a miscarriage. I lost our child and I

could not bear it.”

To her enormous relief he did not press her any further but gathered her close, brushing the hair

away from her face as she cried now, unable to help herself. He murmured endearments to her,

his arms as strong as steel bands about her.

“My darling…that you should have had to suffer that and I was not there for you…”

The warmth of his touch, the bliss of being in his arms after so many barren years, was too much

for Eve. Suddenly she desperately wanted to deny the past, forget it and lose herself in this

moment. She knew that she and Rowarth could not go back, that too much had happened to force

them apart, but she wanted to hold on to this night forever. In the warm intimacy of this tiny

room with the door closed against the world and the future, she could fool herself for a little

while that she could recapture what they had had.

“I don’t want to talk about the past,” she said, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I want to spend

this one night with you, Rowarth, and forget about all else.”

Rowarth went very still at her words. He held himself under absolute control, aching to touch

her, hold her and kiss her to within an inch of her life. His body had sprung into almost instant

hardness at the images her words conjured. To lie with Eve again, to rediscover the pleasure they

could give one another, to hear her soft cries and take her with all the lust and tenderness and

regret that was in his soul…But that was not enough. It would never be enough.

“Just the one night?” he asked.

“Yes.” The firelight shimmered on some expression in her eyes that he could not understand.

“We both know that there cannot be anything else for us, Rowarth.”

He would take issue with that, Rowarth thought. Not long ago he might have thought that one

night with Eve would be sufficient to sate his need for her and lay to rest the ghosts of the past.

Now he knew that it could never be enough. His future would be a desert if Eve were not a part

of it. The idea of her walking away from him again in a day, two days, and never seeing her

again was intolerable.

His.
The possessive desire almost floored him. She had always been his, from the first moment

he had seen her, and she would be his again. They had lost each other a little along the way but

soon, very soon, they could wash away the loneliness and grief he had seen in her, and the

bitterness and revenge that had been in him. And then he would never let her go again.

Eve moved closer to him, which brought her into his arms, and raised her face to his so that he

could kiss her. He was within an inch of forgetting everything except his need for her. With a

groan he lowered his mouth to hers and she opened her lips to him and he tasted her, hot, sweet,

as seductive as she had always been except that his desire for her was so much more potent now.

His tongue grazed hers and she gave a little whimper of pleasure. He scooped her up in his arms,

still kissing her, his only thought now to take her to bed and claim her once and for all as his

own.

Eve stood on the rug before the fire in her bedroom, shivering. She was terrified. She had gone

this far, recklessly, on emotion alone, and now a part of her was excited, wanting to luxuriate in

the wonderful, wicked pleasure of rediscovering Rowarth’s touch, but she was also nervous, as

gauche as a debutante.

He had carried her through to the bedroom and placed her gently on her feet but now he did not

touch her. The anticipation and the anxiety thrummed through Eve like a wire. She had thought

he wanted her with a hunger that matched her own.

“If you have changed your mind then let us forget the whole matter.” It was her pride talking

because she could not bear for him to reject her now, after all that they had been through.

He moved then, so fast that she was taken by surprise, catching her hand and drawing her close.

“I have not changed my mind.” His voice was amused but with a rough edge to it now and the

excitement flickered through her blood like sheet lightning to hear it. “I wanted you from the

first moment I saw you again and I knew this would happen.”

“How arrogant of you.” How she loved that confidence in him.

Rowarth put a hand under her chin. His eyes scanned her face, eyes so warm, so tender. Eve

shivered again, this time with longing as well as fear. She had always known deep down that she

still loved Rowarth and tonight she did not want to think about the future. She wanted to banish

the darkness, at least for a little while.

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and Eve felt her body quiver in response.

“You’re nervous.” His voice was low. “I swear I will not hurt you.”

“I am not afraid of you,” she corrected him. At least there would be no physical consequences

for her; there could not be when she could no longer bear a child. “It’s been a very long time for

me,” she said.

Five years
…

Tenderness warmed his eyes. “Then we shall do this very slowly and stop whenever you wish.”

“I don’t think I am likely to want that,” she murmured.

He was smiling and suddenly, fiercely, she wanted to kiss that smiling mouth, to taste him and

lose herself in him.

“May I kiss you?” he murmured.

So sweet to be asked when most men would simply take.

“Please do…” Her voice was husky. His mouth took hers deeply, fiercely, his tongue tangling

with hers in intimate dance. Her skin came alive beneath his hands, recognizing him in the most

elemental way, tingling with the need to be close with no barriers between them. She freed

herself from his ardent grip only so that she could undress him, eager now, her fingers slipping a

little in her haste. She unfastened his stock and then the neck of his shirt, and stood on tiptoe to

press a kiss on the hot skin at the base of his throat. A groan rumbled in his chest. She could feel

the pulse there beating against her lips with the same rhythm as his heart. His hand went to

unbutton his coat and waistcoat. Eve was fascinated to see that he was shaking. He shrugged

himself out of the garments and tossed them aside. They hit the bed and slithered to the floor.

He caught her about the waist to press another kiss on her lips. Heat spiraled through Eve,

twisting and tightening. Sweet desire flooded her down to the tips of her toes.

“Let me finish…” She pressed her palm against his chest and felt the warmth of his body through

the material of his shirt “…or I will never get you out of these clothes.”

He made a sound like a growl. “Be quick then.”

Eve laughed. “I used to think that you were a patient man.”

Again she reached up to kiss him, full of feminine power and a bubbling happiness that took her

by surprise. It was so long since she had felt like this. Joy and discovery, excitement and

nervousness all mingled within her and made her feel honey-soft inside. She freed his shirt from

the waistband of his pantaloons and burrowed underneath, fanning her hands out against his

stomach. His muscles rippled against her fingers. He caught his breath and ripped the shirt over

his head. Eve stared as the firelight turned his body golden and bronze, smooth, hard and

sculpted. Beautiful. Time had not altered the physical perfection she remembered so well.

Her throat dried. She reached out to him but he was too quick for her, picking her up to lay her

on the thick rug before the fire. His hands traveled over her, easing the gown from her, unlacing

her stays with quick, practiced movements, taking her chemise from her so that she was naked

but for her stockings. Eve was quiescent and still, her breath coming rapidly, her eyes fixed on

his face where she saw intent concentration and desire distilled.

“Ah…” His eyes went almost black with lust as he exposed her body to his gaze. He sat back on

his heels, a flush of arousal along his cheekbones. He had, she noticed, an enormous erection that

his pantaloons could barely contain.

“Turn over.”

He rolled her onto her stomach. Her breasts, so full and sensitive now, brushed against the soft

caress of the rug and she groaned. He leaned over her to press kisses up her spine and over the

line of her shoulders. Her nipples hardened, her entire body alive and prickling with arousal. He

licked a path down her spine again, his hot, wicked tongue spiraling over her skin, and Eve