Lorelie Brown (9 page)

She shook her head, and then sank to her knees. His chest clenched on a spiral of restriction and control. Between his outstretched legs, she was a froth of silk and lace and all that pale, pale skin. “I can’t say
nothing
. I owe you my thanks. My appreciation. My gratitude.” Her mouth pinched into what was likely supposed to be a smile. “There’s not enough ways in the world to say it. Or to…offer it.”

Had it really only been six hours ago that he thought her a complete jade? She was more lost than found. Offering herself as repayment for him doing what any man should…

He wanted her. There was no denying that. He wasn’t the sort to run around taking advantage of women either. Not to say there hadn’t been temptation nor times that he’d dallied in delectable activities. He always chose partners who were on an equal footing, both in terms of expectations and potentials. He couldn’t imagine any man who’d grown up with a loving mother and sweet sister could do anything else.

If a man took advantage of his sister in a similar situation, he’d gut the bastard from stem to stern.

That didn’t mean he was perfect. His hands framed her face, his thumbs rubbing over and over that tender skin. Delicate insanity.

He took her mouth one more time. Sugar and velvet. Her lips pressed against his. He traced the inside tenderness of her bottom lip, then the hard edge of her teeth. His body curved over hers, offering shelter from the storm that no one would be able to keep away on her behalf.

She made a quiet noise that spilled into his mouth. Her fingers dug into his muscles, making the tendons across his neck shiver and pull tight. He had to put her back again. Move her away from his reach. She wasn’t the only one traipsing down routes best left forgotten.

He turned his hand and rubbed her jawline with his knuckles. She tilted her chin into the touch. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I think it’s a little late for that sort of protest. Neither of us are spinster maidens.”

“Let me put it this way, then. I thank you for what you’re offering. But I have to decline.”

She sat back on her heels, her mouth bending into a displeased frown. “You’ll regret that. I’m sure of it.”

Bugger yes, he was going to regret that. He already was. His cock all but reared up in protest. But he only shook his head. “Then that will be my regret to live with. Not yours.”

Chapter Seven

By four days later, Lottie knew that Ian had been wrong. The regret was all hers. In the second best parlor of her school, she stood with her hands folded at her waist as she blindly watched three rows of girls practice curtsying. Mrs. Sera Thomas stood at the front of the room leading the class and occasionally shooting Lottie questioning looks.

It wasn’t often that Lottie felt it necessary to watch a class. But she’d needed to reassure herself that she was on the right path. She hadn’t lost her mind.

The whole last week had been a tumble of too many emotions at once. She didn’t like feeling so…at sea. Flipped around. She wanted to be happy, wanted to be pleased. More than that, she wanted to be calm inside her own skin. The calmer she was, the happier an aspect she could present to the world, the less likely her mother’s difficulties were to take hold of Lottie.

Kissing Ian had been the very opposite of that. In memory, her lips tingled and her heartbeat rushed to fill her head and senses. She pressed her hands together hard enough that knuckles bit into bone. The pain grounded her. Drew her back into herself and the moment.

She wanted more of that. That kiss had been a different kind of confusion, one she almost thought she could handle. If she’d been able to direct how things had gone.

Instead, he’d turned her down.

Denied her.

Lottie chewed on the inside of her lip until she tasted copper. Her tongue probed the tiny sting as she watched Sera dismiss the class. She gave a single clap and gracefully beckoned. “Please continue to the workroom. Lady Victoria is waiting on you.”

“Will we get to pick fabric today?” asked one hopeful voice from the second row.

“I’m not privy to the schedule that Lady Victoria keeps,” Sera said with a twinkling smile. “But I will say that I saw a rather laden cart in the back alley this afternoon.”

The girls split around her in ranks as they scrambled for the door—though no one ran. They wouldn’t dare under Sera’s proper, chastising gaze. Many waved and bobbed small curtsies. Lottie smiled back at them. Her heart reveled in their safety.

A soft knock on the door behind them heralded a towheaded maid. “Miss Vale, there is a Sir Ian here to see you. He’s waiting in your study.”

“Thank you, Melissa.” She didn’t like the way her entire body sparked. Tingling tension nestled at the base of her spine. Her skin woke, and her bones threatened to melt with anticipation.

He sat in her chair, behind
her
desk. Such arrogance. But he was so handsome that she wanted to forgive him for such effrontery. Almost. “Get up.”

He grinned at her, all cheeky insolence. “Did you order me about?”

“Did you seat yourself in
my
chair?”

“I did.” He leant an elbow on the chair arm and propped his chin on his loose fist. “I’ve no reason to obey you, you know.”

Was he doing this intentionally? Teasing her and allowing her a moment of ease to get away from the clutching memory of her mother’s near drowning? From the weight of the kiss she had enticed him into? If so, she appreciated it more than words could say. She grinned. “No reason, but every want.”

“Why do you think so?”

She came closer. Once again she was leaning over him while he sat in a chair. She rather liked the disparity and the possibilities inherent in such positions. “Because if you don’t, I’ll likely be tempted to kiss you again.”

His eyes turned clear and shining blue, like the sky after a summer rain. The noise that swirled out of his throat was a growl. No two ways about it. Lottie’s entire body clenched and then bloomed open. Ready.

“For the life of me, I cannot remember at the moment why that would be a bad idea.” His voice was all roughness and promise.

“Then by all means.” She placed each hand on the tall chair back. With her arms, she framed him in. His dark hair shone against the green velvet upholstery. “Don’t move. But…” She drew the last word out into a tease.

“But?”

“I think you should kiss
me
this time.”

His smile tweaked up on the left side only. He had stupidly thick lashes that women would envy. She wanted to feel them in the soft spot beneath her ear.

Those long, graceful fingers rose and traced down the front of her throat. A delicate touch that probably said more than he wanted to. “You think so, do you?”

“You want to anyway.”

“That much is for damned sure.”

His mouth was as hot as she’d remembered. He sipped and took, twining with her in a rhythm that did strange things to her body. Strange and lovely, amazing, fabulous things.

He took his mouth from hers, though he left those delicious hands on her face. Touches tickled over her cheekbones, her jaw, the line of her nose. She kept her eyes closed, and he traced over the seam of her lashes. “Wakie wakie in there,” he whispered.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. With them closed, she could pretend everything was all right. She first pretended her father wasn’t writing daily, ignoring all reports of Mama and only talking about Lord Cameron. Then she pretended the school didn’t need another influx of cash. She needed nothing but Ian’s mouth back on hers.

With one gentle fingertip, he drew a line from her eyes to her mouth. “You’re thinking entirely too much.”

She made herself smile. “Maybe that means you’re not doing this right. Perhaps you should put more effort in.”

Before it happened, she knew Ian would respond with humor. She was certainly right. He folded his mouth into a mock-severe frown and gave a nod. “You’re right. Come here.”

He kissed her soundly. His tongue took and kept territory in her mouth, and his fingers delved into the masses of her knotted hair. She shivered in his grasp. How strange to think they’d barely touched.

She felt like he knew her.

Though that was incorrect. He knew what parts she wanted to show him. And when she’d shown him too much, she’d kissed him.

She sighed when he ended the kiss. With his mouth on hers, she didn’t think about much else. Nothing else, to be honest. Only how her body woke up each time they kissed. Maybe he had been right the other day.

Except it seemed that he wasn’t quite so distracted as she was. “Have you heard from Patricia?”

“Finna sent around a note this morning to say she hadn’t yet been to the flat.” She didn’t let her disappointment get the best of her, mostly because he couldn’t seem to let go of her.

He ran the pale yellow material of the swag at her hips between his thumb and forefinger. “That will be a difficulty for Finna.”

She acted as if she didn’t notice the way he caressed her dress. Truthfully, it made her breath catch as she waited for his next move. “I’ve already asked about to find her a new girl to room with. Maybe two if they need extra help with the payments.”

“And Patricia?” he asked, as businesslike as can be. Ridiculous man. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“No, unfortunately not. I sent around a note to see if she’d been at work recently, but the foreman said she’d not reported in.”

His trousers brushed against the bottom hem of her dress. The expensive embroidery made the outfit completely unpractical for nearly any occasion, with its fitted bodice and buttons marching all the way up her neck. It was particularly impractical for the city, with its gray, dirty streets.

“I already went by.” His mouth set firmly. “It seems impossible that such a woman is so difficult to find.”

Lottie’s gaze flicked toward the window. The move was so brief most people would have never noticed, not with the way she managed to keep her smile in place.

Ian did. “What is it?”

She grew her smile into a lie. “I wonder that you call her ‘such a woman’. Do you know her, to cast such judgments?”

He scoffed. “I wonder that you so blindly trust her, simply because she’s been to your charity.”

“The women who come here are determined to improve their lives. That in itself denotes a certain upright character.”

“You forget.” He pushed out of the chair. “I’ve known Patricia Wertherby a long time. Longer than you have.”

“Not forget, you nodcock.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a sullen pose. “You haven’t told me. She has something you want. That’s all I know. But do
you
know something?”

“I know many things. I doubt I know whatever it is you’ve got on your mind.”

“I’ve made a decision.”

“God save us all.”

Her chin lifted. “I’ve decided I’m not going a moment more without you telling me what it is that you’re looking for.”

Ian shifted with discomfort. He’d toyed with the idea of sharing the full story on his ride to the school, but that didn’t make it any easier. No part of his quiet life left him accustomed to sharing confidences. “A document.”

“I know that much.”

Even in annoyance, she seemed…different. His mother or Etta would pout, hoping to wheedle what they wanted. Lottie set her terms and held her head high as she waited for him to catch up.

“It’s not my story.” The words ground out like glass caught between two rocks. Painful. “I would have to ask your discretion.”

She grinned wide enough that her nose wrinkled. “You’re having me on, yes? After everything you witnessed yesterday? I’m the soul of discretion—or at the very least, not a single soul would believe me. They’d chalk it up to more of my teasing and wildness.”

“My sister fell in love.”

“I would say congratulations to her, but I think this story may not have a happy ending.”

“You’d be right.” He leaned against the arm of her chair, propping himself up. “He was a millwright. A step down for our family.”

“I bet that wasn’t well received.”

“No. Plenty of fighting. Father threatened to cut her off. He
did
as a matter of fact. But Archie was never after Etta’s money, and they ran away to be married. With them, they took Archie’s sister as chaperone for the first half of the journey. The sister was Patricia. Archie died only a year after their marriage. Six months ago, Etta started receiving blackmail notes. We managed to trace them to Patricia, mostly through visiting posting locations, but she disappeared when the noose was drawing tight. The document I seek is the proof she’s holding over Etta’s head. A marriage certificate.”

“I see,” she said with a nod. Lottie began to brood over the problem. She did it unlike anyone else he knew. It was almost difficult to spot. She paced a few steps from the desk to the side table and back again, keeping her head up and her features clear. Only her eyes were hazy as she looked into the distance, as if there were something to be seen in the striped wallpaper and wainscoting. Her mouth stayed curved in a hint of smile.

She drew to a halt in the center of the room. “I assume the threat is to ruin Etta’s life with the story that she married far beneath her, yes?”