To Seduce an Earl (17 page)

The whore grinned, showing empty spaces where her front teeth should have been. “No need to say more. Ye can do what you will, none of my business.” She glanced pointedly at Grace, then winked.

“Oh, no,” Grace started. “You don’t understand.”

“Quiet,” Alex demanded. “Hurry now.”

“All right, calm the bloody hell down.” The woman stuffed the coins in the valley between her breasts, hiked up her skirts and bolted down a lane.

Alex gripped Grace’s elbow and dove forward after the woman, Grace doing her best to match his long strides. The cap she wore tumbled from her head, her curls falling down around her shoulders.

“Alex!” she cried.

But he was relentless and refused to stop even long enough for her to complain. She hadn’t a clue where they were headed and could only trust Alex, a man she barely knew. It seemed ridiculous now that she had been thrown into this situation, yet what choice did she have? They darted down a dark alley, leaping over crates and garbage. Alex’s grip was tight and sure, he seemed to know where they were headed, but how could he when it was obvious he’d rarely left Lady Lavender’s side?

“Just here,” the whore panted, pointing toward a building that looked like it could tumble down under a small gust of wind.
 
“’ere ye are.” She pushed open a door. “Top on the right.”

Alex nodded. “Give us an hour.”

She grinned. “How ever long ye need.”

Grace glanced back. The alley was empty, indicating they’d actually lost their pursuers. They made their way up the rickety steps, Grace clinging to the railing in desperation. The place was exactly as she’d expected, dirty and in disrepair. Alex pushed open the door at the top and stood aside, waiting for her to enter.

She hesitated, peeking into the small garret. The air was stale, the ceiling low, suffocating.

“Merely for a brief while,” he said, sensing her discomfort.

Grace nodded and stepped into the room. A bed, that was no more than a mat, lay in the far corner, while a chair sat near one of the two windows, covered with threadbare curtains that were no more than rags. Alex had to duck as he came inside and shut the door.

There was something incredibly depressing about the place. She moved across the room, the scarred floorboards creaking under her weight. From below, voices mumbled, people coughed, a couple was arguing. A deep, aching heaviness strangled the breath from her lungs. Is this what would become of them? Forced into a small garret once their money was gone. She brushed aside a curtain and gazed out onto the night sky.
 

Smoke billowed from chimneys, gray clouds upon black sky. A few stars managed to shine weakly through the fog, but their light was sad and pathetic. Too late for mongers selling their wares. The darkness almost hid the poverty, almost. But the lack of light couldn’t cover the melancholy atmosphere.

“We’ll wait here merely for a moment or two,” his velvet voice was a shock to her body, a comfort to her soul. “Closer to dawn the streets will clear.”

And then what? She had a home she could return to, at least until their money ran out. But where would Alex go? She turned to face him. The room was small, and Alex was large. She couldn’t see him living in squalor, not dressed as richly as he was and certainly not with the air of superiority he held.

Alex pushed away from the wall and moved toward her, his hand cupping the back of his neck, rubbing the muscles. So beautiful, even in this squalor, but it was the way his hands trembled that she focused upon. The very air around him stirred with unease.

What would he do now that he had left Lady Lavender? Or would he return? Her gaze raked his angelic features, to his wide shoulders, lower, to the way his white shirt stretched across his broad chest. She froze, then jerked her gaze to his arm.
 

“What is that?” She met him in the middle of the room and latched onto his wrist, bringing his arm up for inspection. “You’re injured!”

“I’m fine.”

Ignoring his statement, she rolled his sleeve higher. A thin red gash marred his muscular forearm, blood drawing an angry red trail down his arm. “Oh Alex,” she whispered, her voice catching.

It was her fault. Damn it all. If she hadn’t been trying to hide the fact that they had no footmen, if she hadn’t set out to prove to Rodrick that she was no helpless female, this never would have happened. She dropped her hold and pulled her shirt loose from her waistband.

“Tis nothing.” He brushed by her, pausing at the window.

It might not have been deep, but it needed to be bandaged before it became infected. She slipped her finger into the tiny hole at the hem of her shirt and pulled. The material ripped easily, the sound a loud screech that raised the fine hairs on her body.

Alex glanced back. “There’s no need to ruin your…is that
your
clothing?”

Grace flushed. “No. My sister’s.” She waved toward the chair. “Sit.”

He sighed but moved toward the wing back that had certainly seen better days. It didn’t matter that the chair was worn and tattered, he still looked like a King ruling over his domain. She bit back her smile and started toward him.

“Will just take a moment,” she cooed, pausing before him. She’d taken care of many injuries, nursed many as they lay upon their sick bed. Merely another person to heal, yet Alex was not merely a person, but
Alex
. The man who heated her blood with a glance.

With her knee, she nudged his legs apart and stepped between them. He tilted his head back against the chair and watched her through those thick, dark lashes. More than ever, she was acutely aware that they were alone. Slowly, she wrapped the bandage around his arm, forcing her fingers to remain steady, although her heart thumped madly in her chest. She could barely breathe, barely think with his gaze pinned to her.

“Thank you.”

There was a sincerity to his voice and an intensity to his gaze that squeezed her heart and made her wonder if anyone had ever taken care of him. She smiled, tucking the loose ends under the bandage. “Of course.” The obvious emotion in his heated gaze shouldn’t have influenced her, she was in love with Rodrick, after all. But she couldn’t deny that being this close to Alex sent her senses spinning.

“How shall I repay you?”

Startled, she stiffened. “There’s no need. It was nothing.”

“Perhaps to you.” He stared at her for one long moment, his gaze so intense she felt as if he saw into her very soul. She started to step back. “We never had our next lesson.”

Grace froze.
Kissing.

His gaze darkened as that pulse in the side of his neck flickered to life. “You do remember, don’t you?”

Of course she bloody remembered. Her entire body came awake with the memory. Places she never knew existed suddenly pulsed with life. “I have no money.”

“Free of charge.” His voice was a husky temptation. He slid his uninjured arm around her waist, bringing her close. She could feel his body trembling, but from anxiety or from passion, she wasn’t sure. He tilted his head and looked up at her. The erotic scent of spice and male swirled in the air, making her dizzy.

“Why,” she whispered, lifting her lashes to meet his gaze. “At times, you barely seem to like me.”

He smiled, a soft, emotional smile that tugged at her heart. “Oh, I like you, Grace. I like you an awful lot, and that, my dear, is the problem.”

She parted her lips to question him further, but he placed his hands on her waist and all thoughts vanished. Slowly, he pulled her toward his lap. She settled on his hard thighs, every muscled evident through the thin material of her trousers. His hand slid underneath her shirt, his long, elegant fingers moving over her smooth, bare back. Grace bit her lower lip. Reaching her binding, he paused.

“Whatever are you wearing?”

She swallowed hard. The warmth of his hands on her skin had her flustered. She felt odd, like a fever was working its way through her body. “Binding, to—”

“I understand.” He reached up and slid his fingers into her hair, dragging the locks down so they fell around her back and shoulders in a shimmering veil. Just when she thought he was done, he brought the strands forward, breathing in their scent. “Beautiful.”

“Do you mean it?” she whispered, looking at him, frantic for the truth. “Or do you say that to all of your clients?”

He paused, his hand cupping the sides of her face. His eyes had grown serious, intense, yet she hadn’t missed the flash of hurt that had briefly appeared. “Right now, in this moment, you’re not a client.”

His words were almost like a warning. She was not a client, therefore she was not in charge. They were merely a man and a woman indulging in an overwhelming attraction that would lead to nowhere. He tilted his head and pressed his mouth to her neck, his breath tickling her pulse. A tremor coursed through her body. Grace moaned, closing her eyes. Wrong, this was so wrong! Here, in this tiny room, they were alone, completely and utterly alone. Anything could happen.
 

“What color stockings are you wearing tonight?” he mumbled against her throat.

She raked her brain, trying to remember and at the same time wondering why it mattered. “Pink, I believe. With green leaves stitched along the sides.”

He chuckled, although why he found it amusing, she wasn’t sure.

“Teach me,” she whispered frantically, sliding her fingers into his hair. “Teach me to kiss.”

The sparkle of amusement that shone in his eyes vanished. He deliberately lowered his gaze to her neck. “As you wish.” With deft fingers, he flipped open the top button of her shirt and pressed his mouth to her collarbone, his soft curls tickling her cheek.

Grace sighed, relaxing and sinking into him. He was lovely, so incredibly lovely and for this moment she could pretend he only wanted her. Pretend their forbidden relationship could exist. Pretend he hadn’t done this with hundreds of other women. He flipped open two more buttons until her bound breasts were exposed.

“How terribly sad,” he whispered. He pressed his mouth to the top of one soft mound while his hand moved to her bottom, cupping her and pulling her closer to his waist. The hard mound of his cock pressed to her thigh. Hot and cold chills tiptoed over her skin. Her breasts grew heavy, pressing against the binding, begging to be freed.

“Your neck is lovely, but shall I focus on your lips?” He lifted his head, those eyes midnight pools of seduction.

She could only nod. He cupped the back of her head and brought her closer. Grace’s lashes fluttered down as she felt the warmth of his mouth on her lips. “Slow and passionate, or bold and daring?”

She didn’t understand a word he was muttering. She only wished he’d kiss her.

“Slow,” he answered for her. “Make me forget, Grace.”

A shimmer of heat wavered through her body. His lips molded to hers, softly, for one brief moment. Then he shifted his mouth, drawing her plump lower lip between his teeth. It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed her, but it felt like it. Unable to stop herself, Grace slid her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts to his hard chest. It was all the coaxing he needed.

Alex’s tongue slid like velvet between her lips. With a sigh she opened for him. He was unhurried, his movements languid as if he had all the time in the world. His hands traveled under her shirt, over the skin of her back, his fingers sensually kneading her muscles.

Grace tilted her head, deepening the kiss as his tongue swept into her mouth. His fingers found the binding and gently unwound the material flattening her breasts. She should stop him…it was wrong…so wrong… but it felt so bloody good!

Gently, his tongue darted into her mouth, rubbing, tasting, tormenting her senses with long strokes that tightened her belly into a fiery knot of need. She wanted him, all of him. At this moment, in a whore’s garret room, she would have given him everything. The material holding her breasts gave way. Grace’s chest expanded, the air easing into her lungs. She tilted her head back as Alex pressed his mouth to her collar bone. His warm hands found her breasts, cupping the soft mounds.

“So lovely,” he whispered right before his mouth covered a nipple.

Grace sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers sliding into his hair, tightening around the curls, intending to push him away. But then his tongue wrapped around her nipple, drawing the peak between his lips. Any thoughts of pushing him away disappeared, replaced with need so intense, she thought she’d die.

With a whimper, she squirmed against his lap, her bottom rubbing erotically against his hard cock.

“Dear God,” he whispered, pulling back. “Grace, I can’t take you here, not here.” He turned his head away from her and squeezed his eyes tightly closed, his breathing ragged.
 

His cheek rested against the side of her left breast. She should have felt embarrassed, instead she felt disappointed. Acutely, horribly disappointed. Against her thigh she felt the hard proof of his arousal, pulsing, aching to be released.

It was her heart, his heart, beating against each other that tormented her soul. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to his. He wouldn’t take her here… but would he ever take her? Grace leaned back and pulled her shirt together. She felt muddled, confused, and even a little angry. Angry at Alex, angry at the world, but mostly angry at herself.