The Temptation of Laura (15 page)

For a long moment, he said nothing, and Laura’s heart kicked painfully with each beat.

His jaw tightened and a barrage of emotions swept through his eyes. Each more bewildering than the one before.

Nausea rose bitter in her throat.

“I see.” Laura pushed to her feet as traitorous tears burned behind her eyes. “Thank you. Your silence has made things perfectly clear. I just needed to know.” She moved toward the door.

“Laura, wait.”

She turned.

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came forth.

Laura huffed out a laugh as pride swelled hard and fast, turning her breaths harried. “I just didn’t want you to leave for Bristol without speaking of it, that’s all. For the last few days since we slept together, the topic has been like a huge boulder wavering between us. I just needed it to be pushed in one direction or the other before it fell and someone got hurt.”

He strolled toward her and her heart beat faster.

“Now we know where we stand. No one gets crushed.”

He came ever closer.

She forced herself to stay in the same spot.
Say something, you cad. Say you used me
.

His gaze wandered languidly over her face and he took yet another step closer until a whisper of breath couldn’t have passed between them.

“I took you to my bed because I wanted you.” His breath danced across her lashes. “I took you to my bed because the sight, scent, and sound of you drive me insane with need.” He dropped his mouth to her jaw, nipped and kissed his way to her neck. “Yet I dare not do so again for fear I will lose the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. I want you to believe our lovemaking is about you and me entirely, not the play. I saw the hesitation and fear in your eyes before our passion took over. I want you to come to me of your own free will next time.”

Tenderness seeped into her heart and desire poured into her core. He cared for her. Moreover, he respected her. She tilted her head back and smoothed her hands over his arms as he continued to feast on her neck. “We’re adults, Adam,” she whispered. “We can do what we like as long as we both know where we stand.”

He eased back and looked deep into her eyes. “You want me again?”

Yearning ran like hot liquid through her blood, causing her breasts to rise and fall. She swallowed. “Yes.”

He clamped his mouth to hers and his hand kneaded roughly at her breast. The strength of his lust sent her arousal out of control and she thrust her tongue into his mouth, tugging impatiently at his shirt. How could she not want him? He believed in her. Escalated her potential. Made her feel like a woman every time he looked at her.

She clawed at his shirt and he moved her backward until the hard wall met her spine. Time stood still as he opened the buttons at her throat and pulled her dress wide open; she yanked and tugged at his shirt. Her mind emptied of everything but Adam and the animalistic need to have him before he left for Bristol.

“Laura. My sweet, fiery Laura.” He gathered her skirts and maneuvered his fingers beneath their voluminous curtain.

Her heart pounded and her excitement grew. His hand smoothed up her thigh, higher and higher; then he plunged two rigid fingers deep inside her. She dropped her mouth open, her head falling back against the wall. “Adam.”

He leaned lower and kissed the revealed skin at her chest and collarbone, all the while massaging her into a frenzy. The delicious sensations of her building release gathered strength and rolled through her over and over on a trembling wave. She reached for the front of his trousers.

Adam growled against her breast. “No, you. Just you. I will not take you again until I come back from Bristol.” He met her eyes, his face contorted with desire and flushed with a passion that bordered on frightening. “When I come back, I will be yours to own. Just not yet.”

She attempted to protest, to question, to ask what he meant, but his ardent strokes were impossibly good and she clung to him as sexual satisfaction ripped through her very core, soaring through her blood and into her heart. She shuddered and gasped, thankful his mouth swallowed her groans lest she waken Bette from her slumber upstairs.

How had this passion grown so quickly? Had she lost her mind? She panted with need and confusion as the sweet ripples of her orgasm slowly ebbed and flowed through her. When they’d passed, Adam smiled and brushed the fallen hair from her eyes.

“We are in this together. I promise.”

Hope edged at the periphery of her heart and she nodded. “I trust you.”

Later that night, Laura clasped a note in her hand and headed toward the door that led to the backstage corridor of the Theater Royal. Her body still hummed from Adam’s earlier seductive and expert attention. Her heart, on the other hand, was a mess of insecurity. Adam’s strange insistence they wouldn’t make love until he returned from Bristol lingered in her mind. What had he been thinking when he said that? Why did Bristol hang between them as a barrier to the physical . . . or was it the emotional?

She shook her head and pulled an invisible—if flimsy—protection around her heart and focused on the job at hand. The gentleman who’d given her the note for Monica had been good-looking, obviously moneyed, judging by the amount of champagne he’d requested for him and his friend, but more importantly, had eyes that spoke of kindness.

Laura smiled. She hoped he turned out to be a gentleman in his attentions toward Monica and not the devil in disguise. After spending time with her, Laura really wanted to see her new friend happy and smiling with a man who cared for her. She turned the corner toward the stars’ dressing rooms.

The sight of Malcolm Baxter drawing Monica’s dressing-room door closed with meticulous care caused Laura’s heart to stop as she froze to the spot.

Dressed in smart trousers and a jacket with his hair neatly combed, Malcolm could easily have been mistaken for a gentleman rather than a pimp. What was he doing here?

For a long moment, he loitered there, his gloved hand clasping the door handle and his head bowed.

Time stood still as he straightened and turned. His eyes met Laura’s and his face showed a fleeting moment of surprise before a wide grin split his expression. She silently counted to five as he strolled toward her. Trying and failing to will her feet to move, she longed to brush past him as though his presence didn’t bother her one bit. Her feet remained stuck to the floorboards.

She pulled back her shoulders and waited.

“Laura.” Baxter stopped in front of her, his cold blue eyes appraising every inch of her face, lower to her revealed cleavage. “You are looking quite spectacular.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was clear and smooth, despite the suppressed hatred causing her legs to tremble.

“Your new career suits you.” He glanced back toward Monica’s dressing room. “I have just been speaking to Miss Danes. We’re acquainted . . . from the past.” He raised his eyebrows. “It was actually you we were discussing.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because you matter to me, why else?”

“What do you want? You know I work here. You could’ve come and found me without bothering Miss Danes.”

His smile stretched. “Oh, I didn’t bother her.”

Laura glared, anger burning like fire in her chest. “I doubt that.”

Still smiling, his eyes shone with malice. “It seems you’ve had quite an effect on her. She even asked me to leave you be.” He laughed. “For some reason, she thinks I might have cause to hunt you down. Can you think what might have given her that idea?”

Their eyes locked and revulsion twisted a knot in her stomach. “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

“I see your landlord has leased your home to another whore.”

Laura tilted her chin, battling the fear that she and Bette had made a huge mistake by giving up their place, their independence, in favor of Adam’s generosity. “And what of it?”

“You’re a fool if you think a star of the stage can give you more than I can. You’re a whore. A whore without a home. Once Lacey has tired of you, then what?”

“If that happens, it will my problem to deal with, not yours. Go away, Malcolm.”

She moved to walk past him and he shot his hand into the air. She froze. His eyes lit with glee, his smile wolverine. “The whore in your sad excuse for a home knows which side her bread is buttered. She knows her place. Doesn’t try to mix with people above her station. You might as well kiss these actors’ asses”—he leaned closer, his whiskey breath making her want to gag—“or suck their cocks for all the attention they’re going to give the likes of you.”

She fisted the note for Monica tighter in her hand. “Go to hell.”

“And how’s Bette? Is she dead yet?”

Her anger soared, and before she could stop herself, Laura jabbed a finger in his chest. “Don’t you even speak her name, you—”

He gripped her hand in the ironclad vice of his, spun her around, and yanked her arm up behind her back. She sucked in a breath as fear shot like a boulder into her throat. Panic rushed through her when he shoved her forward, ramming her cheekbone against the corridor wall. Tears of humiliation burned like needles at her eyes when people hurried past without stopping to intervene.

“Once a whore, always a whore. Look how the people walk by knowing you deserve to be shown a bit of roughness to keep you in your place.” Malcolm licked a trail of warm saliva along her ear. “I want you to come and find me at the end of the show. I want your earnings from tonight and every night. After that, I’ll be back once a week to collect whatever I feel appropriate. You avoid me, cause me trouble, or go to the law, I’ll come back and take my frustration out on your new friend Monica Danes. She hasn’t your gall, Laura. She’s a lady and doesn’t fight like a cat. She does as she’s told.”

He sucked maliciously on the skin at the side of her neck, branding her, before shoving the side of her head so her cheek banged against the wall a second time. He chuckled before releasing her.

His footsteps slowly faded as she stayed there, her heart racing and her body shaking. When she closed her eyes, a tear slid down her cheek.

Summoning every inch of her self-preservation, she pushed away from the wall and swiped at her face. With her hands trembling, she tilted her chin and strode toward Monica’s dressing room and knocked on the door. What if he’d left Monica beaten and bloody behind the door?

“Come in.”

Relief at the sound of Monica’s call pushed air from Laura’s lungs as she entered. Monica stood in front of a full-length mirror and her smile was instantaneous when their eyes locked, despite the painfully obvious shakiness of Monica’s gestures. “Laura. What a surprise. How are you?”

She tightened her jaw. “I just saw Malcolm. In the corridor.”

Monica stared for a moment before she nodded and took a seat at her dressing table. “I see.”

Unsure whether to approach her and offer comfort or keep her distance, Laura hesitantly stepped forward. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Judging by the mark on your face, Malcolm took more of his anger out on you than me. Why don’t you sit down? There is no need to hide anything from me as far as he is concerned. The man is an animal.”

Laura gratefully sat on a chair beside her friend. “He wants my money.”

Monica nodded. “I know. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

She stared. Anger, frustration, and, more than anything, determination shone in Monica’s arresting blue eyes.

Laura frowned. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing of any importance.”

She reached for Monica’s hand. “If he threatened to hurt you after everything you’ve done to help me. . . .”

Monica glared. “He hasn’t hurt me. That man will never hurt me again.”

The tension around them pressed down on Laura’s chest and she released Monica’s hand. “I won’t pay him what he wants. Not now. Not ever.” She swallowed the bitterness that dried her mouth. “I owe him nothing. I’ve never worked for the man. He’s after me now because Bette’s dying. He thinks I won’t survive without her, so I’m easy pickings.”

“And will you? If she dies?”

Pain stabbed deep in Laura’s heart and she looked past Monica to the mirror beside them. She stared at her reflection. “Yes, I will.” She faced Monica once again. “But Bette won’t die.”

“Laura—”

“She won’t.” Laura tightened her jaw. “Bette is made of steel, I swear to God. The woman has more strength in her little finger than I have in my entire body.”

Monica huffed out a laugh. “I very much doubt that. Your strength is palpable.”

Laura frowned as concern for Monica’s welfare grew once more. “Does Malcolm know you’re helping me with Adam’s play?”

“He has no idea we’re associated. He knew you were working here and asked I advise you to cooperate with him.” She smiled. “He stupidly expected me to intimidate you because of my supposed celebrity status. The man’s an imbecile.”

Laura smiled. “Not entirely. I was pretty intimidated when I first met you, for all of five seconds and I realized how lovely you are.”

Monica smiled softly and stood. She clasped Laura’s hands in hers and squeezed. “You must keep a low profile. Better still, do not leave the house while Adam is in Bristol. I will tell the manager you have taken ill. If Malcolm finds out where you are living, he will come after Adam as well. I cannot let that happen. He means too much to me for me to see his life endangered.”

Laura’s smile slipped. How could she not have considered before that Adam and Monica were more than costars? Did Adam open the doors of opportunity for her too? Had he slept with Monica as he had her?

Monica frowned. “When Malcolm was courting me, he kept the pretense of a gentleman. Little did I know the money he attained from keeping whores supported my acting. I thought he was a businessman. I thought he loved me and was happy to support me in my endeavors, whatever they might be.”

“Until it was too late?”

“I loved him, Laura. I fell, and fell deeply.”

Nausea rose bitter in her throat. Monica loved Malcolm? “How could you . . . how did you ever . . .”

Monica shook her head, her mouth twisting in disgust. “He wasn’t the same then as he is now. He was considerate, charming, and instilled a belief in me I could achieve anything. Then once he had me . . .”

Laura’s heart filled with anger. “Your reputation was on the line as well as your family’s. God, the man is scum.”

“Just like Adam’s family, my parents have never condoned what I do. When I finally fled Malcolm, he was all too keen to tell them we had spent night after night together. My parents cast me out.”

“Didn’t you tell them he ran whores?”

She smiled wryly, her eyes cold. “They would never believe such a thing of such a well-dressed, well-educated gentleman.”

Laura sniffed. “Malcolm is about as educated as me. How could they fall for his lies?”

“I did.” Two spots of color darkened her cheeks. “We all did.”

A few seconds ticked by in silence before Laura met Monica’s gaze once more. “So Adam helped you?”

She gave a wry laugh. “Oh, he did not know about Malcolm or the fact I risked my entire happiness for such a man. He just knew I was going to leave the theater for lack of money and he would not let that happen.”

“So, what did he do?” Laura stared. The notion of anyone, especially someone as beautiful and talented as Monica, wanting Malcolm repulsed her, but how could she judge her for risking everything for a moment’s lovemaking? Heat warmed her cheeks.

“When I told Adam my parents cast me out and I had no choice but to give up acting and find a regularly paying job, he refused to let me walk away.” Her eyes softened. “He shared his income with me. He gave me money to live in an apartment until I could earn enough to keep myself.”

Trepidation and the whisper of stupidity rippled through Laura’s body. “And now I’m the second woman to come into his life who was connected, and possibly ruined, by Malcolm. The second woman he wants to save.”

“Yes.” Monica’s concerned gaze bore into hers. “He now knows through Malcolm we are connected, and if I know Adam, he’ll be planning Malcolm’s demise. We must find a way to change his mind before he does anything he will undoubtedly regret. We have to make him realize vengeance will end in bloodshed. Whether it be his, yours, or mine.”

Laura resisted the shiver that ran up her spine. This couldn’t go on. She and Bette had to leave Adam’s home. She would not risk him being beaten or killed.

“I need to leave Bath and disappear.” She pulled her hands from Monica’s.

Monica touched her hand. “This is not your fault. Together, we will find a way to keep Adam safe and our lives as they are.”

She pushed to her feet. “No, this isn’t the life I should be living. I’m a whore with her own destiny, not Adam’s project or Baxter’s slave.” She stared, traitorous tears burning her eyes. “And I’m not your friend. I need to go.”

“Laura, wait.”

She rushed for the door and yanked it open. What had she done? What had Adam exposed himself to by saving her and Bette from Malcolm that night? This wasn’t who she was. Laura Robinson helped women and friends; she didn’t make their lives worse. The walls closed in on her and her breathing turned harried.

“I have to go. I’m sorry.” Remembering the note she had for Monica, she thrust it at her. “Here. A gentleman in the audience . . . I forgot. Take care of yourself.”

She rushed into the corridor, her mind reeling. She would wait until Adam left for Bristol in the morning; then she and Bette would be gone upon his return.

 

Nausea swirled in Laura’s stomach as Adam came down the stairs of his town house. Unbeknownst to him, this would be their final moment together. She shivered against a sense of foreboding that crept like icy fingers up her spine. Resisted the ache in her heart wanting to rush forward and embrace him. He reached the bottom stair and laid his suitcase at his feet. His gaze wandered over her face before he gently cupped her jaw.

“I will be back before you know it and then we can hit rehearsals full force.” He hesitated. “If everything goes as planned with the investor, I hope I can at least persuade the Theater Royal here in Bath to take a risk with my play.”

Laura exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sure everything will work out perfectly.”