Authors: Samantha Holt
She reached up to touch his
face. “I did not realise it bothered you so much. You are as handsome as ever,
Lucian, if not more.”
Did the woman hope to appeal
to his ego and make him forget his purpose of assuring her of her beauty? He
smirked. “No make-up or corsets will make up for this.” He released her long
enough to gesture to his face. “But I understand your need to hide, Ellie, I
really do, even if I do not think you need it. In fact”—he drew her close once
more so his arousal pressed into her— “I like that I have you to myself. My
Ellie, with her messy hair and naturally flushed cheeks. With her unbound
breasts and beautiful endless legs.”
“Your Ellie?”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have
said as much. After all, he’d made her no promises, but the words had felt so
right. Instead of repeating them, he nodded and kissed her. Her mouth opened to
him and he resolved to spend the rest of the evening proving to her exactly how
beautiful he found her.
The Bottomless Bag
The faint hint of vanilla told him Ellie had entered his
office. He did not look up quite yet. Once he did, he would struggle to
persuade himself to finish writing his letter. He hurried to sign it and
grimaced at his messy hand. The woman had a lot to answer for, breezing around
and distracting him. Though truth be told, it was hardly her fault, it was his.
He couldn’t force his mind to ponder anything else, and he was not sure that
even if she was a million miles away, he would not think of her.
He set aside the letter and
lifted his head. Her brilliant smile jolted his heart as though she had let
loose an arrow and struck him directly there. It would not do. And yet he felt
his own foolish response—a wide smile—spreading across his face.
She wore a pale purple gown
and matching bonnet—a splash of brightness against the dark wood of his office.
Against his will, his gaze traced her body and recalled every moment he had
spent touching her the previous night. They had eaten eventually but
Petit
Paris
would have to wait. After what he had done to her, they were
certainly in no state to eat in public. Really his behaviour was quite
reprehensible—ravishing her at every turn rather than treating her as a lady.
“Lucian, it is past lunch
time and Mr Fuller tells me you have not eaten yet.”
He spotted the basket under
one arm and lifted a brow. “It’s none of Fuller’s business when I eat.”
“No, but it is mine.”
Was it? Since when had it
become her business to mollycoddle him? Aggravation rose under his skin, making
him clamp a hand around the edge of the desk. But Ellie set down the basket and
pulled out sandwiches and a selection of pies and cheese.
“Are you planning to feed
the whole mill?”
She laughed. “No, just you
and I, but I was not sure what you would like, so I had the hotel prepare a
little of everything.”
He eyed the endless amounts
of food that kept coming out of the basket and now covered his desk. “A
little?” He peered into the basket. “Does that basket even have a bottom?”
Ellie paused and made a show
of staring into it. “Ah yes, it does. And look.” She withdrew a round object
wrapped in brown paper. When she pulled off the paper, she revealed a jam
sponge cake that made his stomach grumble.
“Are you trying to expand my
waistline, Ellie?”
She came around to the back
of his chair and placed her hands to his shoulders. Her clever fingers began
working at the knots in his neck and any annoyance seeped away. With a groan,
Lucian rolled his head back and closed his eyes briefly.
“I am merely trying to make
sure you eat and”—she dipped so her breath tickled his ear— “keep up your
energy.”
He spluttered. For a fine
lady, she certainly had the naughty lover act down to perfection. He curled a fist
again. While every fibre of him came alive at the knowledge he had her to greet
him at night, had her long legs to bury himself between, the sordidness of
their situation had begun to grate on him.
After all, she could not
stay here forever and certainly his workers were gossiping about their
friendship and whether or not it was more. But what else could he do? He didn’t
want her to leave, so was he to keep her locked away in a hotel forever,
waiting for him to come and take his pleasure? Bitterness rose in his throat.
He was treating her as no more than a whore and it would not do.
“Do not scowl at the thought
of using more energy on me,” she said.
Lucian laid a hand over hers
and forced his expression to soften. “Forgive me. It has been a long day already.
Come now, will you not partake of this fine meal with me? It is not
Petit
Paris
but I should like to eat with you.”
“Certainly.” She went to
move away but he kept hold of her hand and twisted in his chair to pull her
into his lap.
Ellie gasped and stared up
at him, wide-eyed and oh so beautiful. Slowly he pulled out the ribbon holding
her bonnet on and found the two pins keeping it in place. Then he placed it on
top of a stack of paperwork and used a finger to tilt her face just so. That
way he had a perfect view of her features and access to those berry red lips
that taunted him constantly.
He dropped a tender kiss to
her lips and that swirl of anxiousness and confusion weaved into his gut again.
How could he send her away? How could he keep her here? He had no answers and
he didn’t like it.
“Is all well?” she asked, a
little breathless.
“Of course,” he answered
hastily. “Let us eat.” He released her chin and she slid off him to come around
the desk and sit opposite.
Adjusting his trousers, he
scanned the table top and shook his head. “I hardly know where to start.”
“It is a table picnic. Start
wherever you wish. We are not in fine company here.”
“I beg to differ, my love. I
am in very fine company here, but I fear I cannot say the same for you.”
“Not at all. You’re always
good company, Lucian.”
“I am tired and crotchety.”
“You are, that is true, but
I have a high tolerance of tired and crotchety, and I enjoy your company
regardless.”
“You have the patience of a
saint, Ellie. How am I to compete with such saintliness?”
“I do, it is true.” Her lips
tilted into a teasing smile. “But if I was saintly, I would not be sharing my
bed with you every night.”
Bloody hell, her new found
confidence would be the death of him. He should have continued letting her believe
she was an ugly old thing. At least then she would not put his health at risk
by sending his heart racing quicker than a train.
“Devil take it, Ellie, stop
speaking like that or I shall not be held responsible for my actions.”
Amusement twinkled in her
grey eyes and she reached for a sandwich to hand it over. “Poor Lucian. You are
tired and I am sure you are hungry. Now eat up and I’ll leave you be until
tonight.”
With a grunt, he took the
sandwich and his stomach rumbled at the sight of layers of cooked meat between
soft bread. “I suppose I cannot object to a small break for lunch.”
Her smile held a glimmer of
triumph and he gritted his teeth. Why did she have to be so blasted sweet and
caring? Who had ever brought him food at work? No one, aside from those who
were paid handsomely to do so. And did she really have to look at him so...so
softly and affectionately? He really didn’t deserve it. He had made her his
lover with no offer of anything but pleasure, and here she was looking after
him. Perhaps he was not so far from the rake he used to be.
She really did deserve
better, but how could he let her go off and find better? The mere notion of
another man enjoying a table picnic with her made him want to crush his
sandwich and swipe the rest of the food to the floor so as to throw her down on
the table and make love to her until there was no doubt she was his.
His?
Lucian savagely bit off a
large chunk of sandwich and watched her pick carefully at her own. Each movement
of her lips brought fresh need to the surface and thoughts of sweeping aside
the food did not seem so ridiculous after all.
“Did you send word to have
those books sent over?” she asked, wiping away a dab of butter with a napkin.
He wished she had left it.
Then he could have licked it off himself. “Yes. They shall be here by tomorrow
as per my instructions, though why you should possibly wish to look through
them again, I do not know. It’s enough to send me to sleep and it’s
my
business.”
“It is also part mine,” she
reminded him. “And I must check something. There is something strange but I
cannot say what yet.”
Ignoring the comment about
her owning part of the mill, he found two small spots free of food to place his
elbows on the table. “You think someone is tweaking the books?”
“I’m not sure. I do not
think it is something as simple as someone stealing. If they were, why draw
attention by sabotaging the mill?”
“As it is, I cannot fathom
the saboteur’s motive. Perhaps the police were right, and it is just a mischief
maker.”
“You said yourself you did
not believe that.”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
“We shall get to the bottom
of this,” Ellie said confidently.
We.
It
held such appeal.
We shall get to the bottom of this
. Not I. Not he.
We.
“Let us hope so. Your
investment shall amount to a grand sum of nought before long if these things
keep happening.”
“I am not here to keep an
eye on my investment.”
“No, you are not.”
He tried to coax amusement
to his lips at her flirtatious hidden meaning, but it did not amuse him. When
had it become a sordid deal rather than one that enticed and appealed? Not that
he did not wish to have her in his bed, but in such a manner? Sneaking out of
her room in the early hours was becoming tiresome.
Leaving
her was becoming
tiresome.
“Lord Rushbourne, I was not
speaking of my reason for being in town, but rather my reason for being at the
mill. I am here to help you. You have taken on so very much and I’m aware I’m
probably running you ragged.”
“You speak as though you
have forced me into your bed,” he said, aware of his surly tone. “I assure you,
no one can force me against my will, not even you, Ellie.”
“I am well aware of that.”
Ellie leaned across and laid a cool hand across the back of his. He eyed the
pale fingers against his work-roughened ones. “I am worried for you, Lucian.”
“Worried for me? Whatever
for?”
“You work so hard and deal
with so much. You hardly eat and you barely sleep. Someone must worry for you.”
“And it should be you?”
Her shoulders stiffened beneath
her shawl. “Well, yes...for the moment.”
For the moment. Damn it, he
did not want it to be a moment. He wanted...What in the blazes did he want? At
the same time his heart was softening at the notion of being cared for,
annoyance was simmering beneath, but he could not be sure why. Annoyance at his
own behaviour perhaps? Anger at treating her like this? Taking all she could
offer and giving nothing in return.
Yes, the anger was certainly
directed at himself. He was a selfish cad, fooling himself into believing he
was doing her some kind of service by giving her pleasure. But pleasure was
cheap and easy.
Love. Now that was
not.
He stared intently at her
for several moments. Unable to avoid his stare, she gazed back, uncertainty
haunting her eyes.
“Lucian, whatever is the
matter? Do you wish me gone? Oh, I am being silly.” She rose. “I’m sorry, I am
interrupting your work and being a fool...” A weak smile wavered on her lips.
“As usual.”
Reaching across, he latched
his hand around her wrist and tugged her sharply down into the chair. She let
out a startled cry and her skirts billowed up around her, forcing her to
frantically smooth them down when he released her wrist.
“You are not a fool, Ellie.
Far from it. I’m the fool.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I cannot do
this anymore.”
Those cherry lips trembled
then pursed. Her throat worked and she dropped her gaze to her hands that were
tucked into her lap. “I understand. I’ll just—” She rose to leave.
He yanked her down again and
kept hold of her wrist this time. “You do not bloody understand. I can’t do
this...” he waved a hand about, searching for the word, “sordid thing we are
doing anymore. You deserve much more than that. More than me, if the truth be
told, but I am a selfish being as we both know.”
“Sordid?”
Trust her to latch onto that
word. He was not sure he meant it that way. What they had was not sordid, it
was special, he realised, but tainted by circumstance. He had met his match in
Ellie, in bed and in life.
“I did not mean that,” he
said irritably.
“Then what—”
“Will you let me speak?” he
snapped. Her mouth clamped shut. “I wish to marry you.”
There, he had said it. He
wanted nothing more than a wife to tie him down, to make an honest man of him.
The rake wanted to be reformed. And he only wanted Ellie.
“Well?” He prompted when she
stayed silent, her mouth slightly ajar. “Will you marry me or not?”
Silence. With the exception
of his pounding heart and the ticking of that infernal clock. He swore he would
throw it out and get a new one. Why had he not noticed how loud the blasted
thing was?
She twisted her wrist and
slid it from his hold. “I...I do not know. I need to think about this.”
Inside his heart shrivelled.
It was not a no, he told himself, but her quiet tone and the way she had drawn
into herself, sent stabs of fear all through him. He was going to lose her.
Better that he had left things the way they were. At least he would have had a
few more moments with her. Could he do nothing right?