Once an Heiress (24 page)

Ethan’s hand on her elbow brought her out of her reverie. “I’m not interrupting an angelic visitation, I hope?” Lily scowled, at which Ethan quirked a brow. “That’s more like it. For a moment there, you were so ensconced in a beatific glow, I wondered if the Rapture was upon us.”

“You
would
have to ask,” Lily shot back.

“Just so,” Ethan merrily agreed.

Lily harrumphed and swept out of the parlor, Ethan’s steps hounding her from behind. The man was unflappable when he wanted to be, refusing to take offense at outlandish remarks. In Lily’s experience, it didn’t take much to wound a man’s pride. The smallest slight against a fellow’s character could have him crying for pistols at dawn. Yet Ethan took slander against the state of his eternal soul in infuriatingly good stride. What did it take to provoke this male?

Perhaps he just doesn’t care about you enough to be provoked.
Lily winced at the stinging thought, but she couldn’t deny its plausibility.

“My dear,” Ethan said behind her, “don’t forget we’re engaged to dine with the Holliers this evening. After the fiasco last time they invited us, we should make every effort at punctuality. We’re expected at seven.”

Lily frowned. He only cared about maintaining appearances for his friends. He wanted to be accompanied by his
wife
, not by her. Abruptly, she swiveled. Ethan was too close to stop in time, and walked right into her, knocking her off balance. An arm as firm as steel clamped around her waist and pulled her hard against him from shoulders to knees.

She inhaled at the unexpected contact. It was marvelous to be pressed against him, to feel him holding her, if only for a moment. A heated look passed between them, but Ethan released her and took a step back. “I beg your pardon,” he said coolly.

She lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes in challenge. “I don’t know whether I’ll be able to attend this evening. As you can see, there is much to be done here. You will please give my regrets to the Holliers, in the event I am unable to join you?”

His eyes darkened and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

Lily quailed in the face of his temper, but saw in it the faintest glimmer of hope. If he could be upset by her missing their supper engagement, maybe it wasn’t all lost, after all.

But as fast as his temper had flared, it cooled again. His lips flicked in that sarcastic little smile of his that she was coming to recognize as the mark of his disdain. “As you wish. Although, I must insist you commit yourself one way or another. I shall not inconvenience our friends again.”

So bland, so indifferent — it was infuriating! “They aren’t
our
friends, they’re
your
friends.”

“They would like to be your friends,” he said in a reasonable tone.

Lily batted away a pang of conscience at the rudeness of reneging on the social obligation. He was merely trying to manipulate her; this was no show of affection. Her hand flew up in dismissal. “Then I shan’t go.”

The smallest tightening at the corner of his eyes was the only indication that he was at all affected, but even that melted away to be replaced by his bland, aristocratic mask. “As you will.”

Lily started back toward her office at a brisk pace. “I’m afraid I must bring our tour to an end. There isn’t much else to see at this point, and I have a great many responsibilities demanding my attention.”

His silence only further incensed her. Why couldn’t he request a few more minutes with her, or at least express disappointment at their time together coming to a close?

He’s giving you what you wanted.
That little voice inside was altogether too sensible of late, doling out multiple perspectives of the situation. As much as Lily liked to consider all possible angles of most issues, in this case, every new insight only added another facet to her misery. Now her stupid conscience boldly suggested she might have brought all of this down upon her own head.

After all,
the little demon continued,
he didn’t demand a superficial society marriage — you did. Maybe your husband wanted more, but you’ll never know now. Whatever tiny sprout of affection might have been there, you ripped up by the tender roots and strangled it with your own hands.

Lily’s feet increased their tempo, nearly running the last few steps to her office, trying to outpace both the man and the voice dogging her.

She flung open the office door and raced inside. Whirling, she threw a hurt stare at the arrogant, placid man looming in the doorway. “I’ll be refurnishing the dining room,” she blurted.

His brows raised in inquiry. “Oh?”

“Father is paying for it,” Lily shot, digging for something to wound him as his indifference wounded her. “He said his daughter should be able to take a meal like a lady, instead of like a fishwife.”

Ethan closed the door. “How generous of him.”

Lily’s heart fluttered wildly against her ribs. She took a step back. “It was good of you to come, my lord, but you should go now.”

In two ground-eating strides, he was upon her. His hands planted on her hips and he drove her backward until the edge of the desk cut into her thighs. He was already hard against her belly before his mouth came down onto hers, forcing every coherent thought right out of her mind. Around her, the room tilted and spun. Lily clung to the front of his coat, crushing the superfine in balled fists.

Ethan’s tongue plunged into her mouth, igniting the lust she’d fought so desperately to keep at bay. Like a master potter working clay, his hands moved up her back and down again, molding her body against his. Lily’s treacherous nerves sparked at his touch.

His large hands cupped her bottom and he rocked against her. Her abdomen trembled and she ached between her upper thighs.

“You want it again,” he rasped.

His tongue flicked her earlobe, then he drew it between his lips. A moan escaped her before she could stop it. Her breasts felt overfull, trapped in the confines of her gown. As if he knew her body as well as she, he grasped her nipples through her layers of clothing. His clever fingers rolled and tweaked them to hard pebbles. She restlessly worked her shoulders, pressing harder into his touch.

His dark words seduced her. “It could be good all the time, princess. We don’t have much, Lily, but we do have this.” He nipped a trail down her neck, sending a shiver coursing up her spine. “I’ve missed having you in my bed. I know you’ve missed it, too.”

Desperate need swamped her. He overwhelmed her with his scent, his touch. Her womb tightened and her thighs clenched. She was about to come apart. His fingers fractured her body, her voice splintered her mind, his hunger for her pulled at her heart —

Unshed tears choked her as she pushed him with increasing force until he lifted his head. Ethan’s blue eyes were opaque with desire. Lust, she thought bitterly — she was only a roll in the hay. And she was money, of course. Always the money.

“You’re mistaken, my lord,” she said in a quavering voice. “I do not miss you or your bed. Please leave now.” She turned her head so he’d not see the tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t even dare wipe it while he gaped at her, for fear he’d see what he’d done to her — what he was doing to her.

In the space of a few heartbeats, his heavy breathing returned to normal. “I apologize for intruding upon your time, Lady Thorburn,” he said in a flat tone. “Good day.”

The door closed. Lily waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps, then she collapsed into her chair, put her head down on her forearms, and wept.

The brass tip of Ethan’s walking stick rapped an angry cadence against the cobbles as he made his way from the hackney stand on the corner to Ghita’s house. The carriage ride had done nothing to abate the frustration and humiliation simmering in his chest.

Lily —
Lady Thorburn
, he corrected himself with a sneer — had once again demonstrated he meant nothing to her, that their marriage only served as a vehicle for her social aspirations. He’d gone out of his way to visit King’s Cross Vocational, to prove his interest in her work. Not only had he hoped to gain ground toward the ultimate prize of her dowry money, but, blast it all, he
was
interested in her work. Never in his life had Ethan Helling been even peripherally involved in a charitable undertaking of the magnitude of the institution. When Lily left home this morning after their unexpected breakfast together, he’d found himself wishing he was going with her to pass the day in a constructive fashion, rather than while the hours away writing letters to his creditors, begging time to make good on his debts. Unable to put it out of mind, he’d gone to see the school for himself.

And she’d shut him out in every possible sense, as efficient in her rejection as her new bath-room would be in issuing hot water.

Ethan rapped on Ghita’s door, painted a lustrous black lacquer. The brass knocker was polished to perfection and looked like a gold bauble set against velvet in a jeweler’s window display.

Late last night, he’d had a note from the Italian woman. She was growing impatient, eager for Ethan to take her into his protection. The note had brought things to a head for him. Could he really do this? He thought he owed Lily one more chance, but she made it clear she didn’t want him.

If only he didn’t become as randy as a goat every time he saw his wife. Hungering for her made everything exponentially worse, especially since Ethan knew how fulfilling that aspect of their marriage could be, if only she’d stop pushing him away. He cast an angry scowl at the gleaming door knocker. Sexual frustration did not agree with him, not in the least.

“Not much longer,” he muttered under his breath.

This was just a preliminary call, of course, the opening parlay of contractual negotiations. In short order, though, Ghita would be Ethan’s mistress. He dearly hoped she wouldn’t mind receiving her first quarterly allowance after her first quarter of service, rather than in advance. Surely he’d have this whole dowry mess straightened out by then.

The butler admitted him, and when he returned from carrying his card to his mistress, led Ethan up the stairs, past the public areas of the home, past the informal sitting room, all the way to her boudoir. She was admitting him into her inner sanctum, where she entertained her lovers. A grim smile touched his lips.

The door stood ajar, and the butler showed him into a sitting room. “Signora will be with you shortly, my lord.” Then the servant bowed and withdrew, closing the door as he left.

Ethan’s gaze roamed the room’s sumptuous arrangement of luxury. The walls were a rich amber hue, and marbled to give the impression of that extravagant stone. An intricately carved chimneypiece dominated the room. There was a collection of gold and jeweled snuffboxes on a shelf near the fireplace. Overhead, a chandelier dripped with crystals. The carved rug beneath his feet was of the highest quality. Gilt arms and feet adorned the silk-upholstered settee and chairs.

He turned at the sound of a door opening.

Ghita sauntered into the room, her hips undulating from side to side in a translucent white dress. The dampened skirt clung to her figure, revealing every turn and curve of her thighs and calves. Her eyes bore down on him with the full intensity of her fiery nature, while a seductive smile teased, yet promised nothing.

She was a vision of raw female sexuality. Ethan braced himself, expecting the full onslaught of his frustrated desire to spring to life at the sight of her. Nothing just yet, but he was sure it was only a matter of seconds …

“Eeethan,” she let out in a breathy voice. She held her hands out as she crossed to the center of the room where he stood. As he took her hands and dropped a kiss to her cheek, her fingers wrapped around his, tight as talons.

There was a shared moment while they looked into one another’s eyes. Ethan frowned when he realized his manhood still had not stirred at her proximity.

Ghita’s smile faltered. She released his hands and poured them each a glass of claret from a decanter on a little table in the corner.

“Lady Umberton has given birth,” Ghita said as she handed him the glass. “Have you heard?”

He shook his head and took a sip of the wine. “When?”

“Earlier this week.” Ghita lowered herself to the settee and patted the cushion next to her. “It’s a girl.” She threw her head back and laughed, her white teeth flashing.

Ethan winced in sympathy. He sat at the opposite end of the settee. “Poor Quill.”

“He came to see me before he left to go meet his daughter.” Ghita’s voice was rich with mirth. “He said he had to do his duty and look the child over, and then he was going hunting for the closest male relative he can find to make his heir, even if it’s a … how do you say? Cousin away?”

“Distant cousin,” Ethan replied. “But who can say? Maybe he’ll try again for a son.”

Ghita chuckled and shook her head. Tendrils of her fair hair swung beside her jaw. “I don’t think so.” She bit her lip and lowered her eyes. If Ethan didn’t know her better, he might think she’d been overcome by a fit of demureness. “It’s over with Quillan,” she said.

Ethan closed his eyes for a moment at her words — the ones he’d been waiting so long to hear. But they left him empty. There was no sense of triumph or joy. And his nether regions still seemed not to have caught on to the nubile bit of female sitting inches to his left. What was wrong with him? He’d been fantasizing about this moment for months, and now that it was here — nothing!

Ghita rose before him, her legs pressed against his knees. He looked into her seductive gaze.
If this was Lily,
the thought suddenly intruded,
I wouldn’t be able to see past her breasts to get to her eyes.

Now, that was an arousing thought. Desire finally stirred. Ghita took his hand and drew him to his feet. As close as they already were, there was nowhere for his length to go but against hers.

Slender fingers worked the buttons of his coat while her eyes remained trained on his. “This is why you’ve come, yes?” Her throaty whisper sent a ball of dread plunging like a rock into his stomach.