Authors: Carole Mortimer
‘Really?’ She arched innocent brows. ‘My own patience with your impossible arrogance ended some minutes ago.’
Yes, Dominic acknowledged ruefully, this young woman was undoubtedly as feisty as she was beautiful. To his own annoyance, he had also spent far too much time today allowing his thoughts to dwell on how delicious Caro’s mouth had tasted beneath his the night before.
‘Would you be any more amenable to the suggestion if I were to say please?’
She eyed him warily, distrustfully. ‘It would be a start, certainly.’
He regarded her for several seconds before nodding. ‘Very well. I insist that you join me in Butler’s office shortly so that we might continue this conversation. Please.’
A second request that was intended to be no more gracious than the first! ‘Then I agree to join you in Mr Butler’s office shortly, my lord. But only for a few minutes,’ Caro added firmly as she saw the glitter of triumph that lit those pale silver eyes. ‘It is late and I really am very tired.’
‘Understandably.’ He gave a mocking bow. ‘I will only require a few more minutes of your time this evening.’
That last remark almost had the tone of a threat, Caro realised worriedly as she made her way slowly to her dressing-room to change. And for all that she had so defiantly told Dominic Vaughn the previous evening that she would simply seek employment elsewhere if he chose to dismiss her, after this evening’s disaster she could not even bear the thought of remaining in London without the protection of Drew and Ben.
She had been completely truthful the evening before when she’d assured Dominic that she had every intention of returning home as soon as she felt it was safe for her to do so. Unfortunately, Caro did not believe that time had come quite yet…
Dominic made no attempt to hide his pained wince as he looked at the dull green gown Caro was wearing when she joined him in Drew’s office some minutes later; it was neither that intriguing sea-green of her eyes,
or of a style in the least complimentary to her graceful slenderness. Rather, that unbecoming colour dulled the brightness of her eyes to the same unattractive green, and gave the pale translucence of her skin an almost sallow look. The fact that the gown was also buttoned up to her throat, and her blonde curls pulled tightly back into a bun at her nape as she stood before the desk with her hands demurely folded together, gave her the all appearance and appeal of a nun.
Dominic stood up and stepped lithely around the desk before leaning back against it as he continued to regard her critically. ‘You appear none the worse for your ordeal.’
Then her appearance was deceptive, Caro acknowledged with an inner tremor. Reaction to the horrors of this evening’s fighting had begun in earnest once she had reached the safety and peace of her dressing-room, to the extent that she had not been able to stop herself trembling for some time. It had all happened so suddenly, so violently, and the earl’s rescue effected so efficiently—if high-handedly—that at the time, Caro had not had opportunity to think beyond that.
She was still shaking slightly now, and it was the reason her hands were clasped so tightly together in front of her; she would not, for any reason, show the arrogant Dominic Vaughn any sign of weakness. ‘I did not have opportunity to thank you earlier, my lord, for your timely intervention. I do so now.’ She gave a stiff inclination of her head.
Dominic barely repressed his smile at this show of grudging gratitude. ‘You are welcome, I am sure,’ he
replied. ‘Obviously it is going to take several days, possibly a week, to effect the repairs to the main salon—’
‘I have no money to spare to pay for those repairs, if that is to be your next suggestion,’ she instantly protested.
Dominic looked at her from underneath lowered lids, seeing beyond that defiant and nunlike appearance to the young woman beneath. Those sea-green eyes were still slightly shadowed, her cheeks pale, her hands slightly trembling, all of those things evidence that Caro had been more disturbed by the violence she had witnessed earlier than she wished anyone—very likely most especially him—to be aware of.
He found that he admired that quality in her. Just as he admired her pride and the dignity she’d shown when faced with a situation so obviously beyond her previous experience.
Did that inexperience extend to the bedchamber? he could not help but wonder. After her initial surprise the previous evening, she had most definitely returned the passion of his kiss. But then afterwards she had appeared completely unaware of the danger those three young bucks had represented to her welfare.
Just as she had seemed innocent of the rising lusts of the men who returned night after night to watch her performance at Nick’s. Perhaps an indication that she was inexperienced to the vagaries of men, at least?
Caro Morton was fast becoming a puzzle that Dominic found himself wishing to unravel. Almost as much, he realised with an inward wince, as he wished to peel her out of that unbecoming green gown before exploring every inch of her delectably naked body…
‘It was not,’ he answered. ‘I was merely pointing out that Nick’s will probably have to be closed for several days whilst repairs and other refurbishments are carried out. A closure that will obviously result in your being unable to perform here for the same amount of time.’
She looked at him blankly for several moments, and then her eyes widened as the full import of what he was saying became clear to her. She licked suddenly dry lips. ‘But you believe it will only be for a few days?’
Dominic studied her closely. ‘Possibly a week.’
‘A week?’ Her echo was distraught.
Alerting him to the fact that she was in all probability completely financially reliant upon the money she earned each night at the gambling club—her clothes certainly indicated as much! It also proved, along with her determination to remain in London ‘for the present’, that her situation at home must be dire indeed… ‘There is no reason for you to look so concerned, Caro,’ he assured her. ‘Whether you wish it or not, for the moment, it would appear you are now under my protection.’
Her eyes went wide with indignation. ‘I have absolutely
no
intention of becoming your mistress!’
Any more than it was Dominic’s wish to take her—or any other woman—as his mistress…
His parents had both died when he was but twelve years old. Neither had there been any kindly aunt to take an interest in him as there had with Nathaniel. Instead Dominic’s guardianship had been placed in the hands of his father’s firm of lawyers until he came of age at twenty-one. During those intervening years, when he was not away at school, Dominic had lived alone at
Blackstone Park in Berkshire, cared for only by the impersonal kindness of servants.
It would have been all too easy once he reached his majority, and was at last allowed to manage his own affairs, to have been drawn into the false warmth of affection given by a paid mistress. Instead, he had been content with the friendship he’d received from and felt for both Gabriel and Nathaniel. He knew their affection for him, at least, to be without ulterior motive. The same could not be said of a mistress.
‘I said protector, Caro, not lover. Although I am sure that most of the gentlemen here tonight now believe me to already have that dubious honour,’ he pointed out.
She stiffened at the insult in his tone. ‘How so?’
‘Several of them witnessed you throwing yourself into my arms earlier—’
‘I was in fear of my life!’ Two indignant spots of colour had appeared in the pallor of her cheeks.
Dominic waved a dismissive hand. ‘The why of it is not important. The facts are that a masked lady is employed at my gambling club, and tonight that lady threw herself into my arms with a familiarity that was only confirmed when she called out my name for all to hear.’ He shrugged. ‘Those things are enough for most men to have come to the conclusion that the lady has decided on her protector. That she is now, in all probability, the exclusive property of the Earl of Blackstone.’
If it were possible, Caro’s cheeks became even paler!
F
or possibly the first time in her life, Caro was rendered bereft of speech. Not only was it perfectly shocking that many of the male members of society believed her to be the exclusive property of Lord Dominic Vaughn, but her older sister, Diana, would be incensed if such a falsehood were ever related to her in connection with her runaway sister, Caroline!
Caro had left a note on her bed telling her sisters not to worry about her, of course, but other than that she had not confided her plan of going to London to either Diana or her younger sister, Elizabeth, before fleeing the family home in Hampshire two weeks ago, before their guardian could arrive to take control of all their lives. A man none of the Copeland sisters had met before, but who had nevertheless chosen to inform them, through his lawyer, that he believed himself to be in a position to insist that one of them become his wife!
What sort of man did that? Caro had questioned in outraged disbelief. How monstrous could Lord Gabriel
Faulkner, the new Earl of Westbourne, be that he sent his lawyer in his stead to offer marriage to whichever of the previous earl’s daughters was willing to accept him? And if none chose willingly, to
insist
upon it!
Never having been allowed to mix with London society, none of the Copeland sisters had any previous knowledge of their father’s heir and second cousin, Lord Gabriel Faulkner. But several of their close neighbours had, and they were only too happy to regale the sisters with the knowledge—if not the details—of his lordship’s banishment to the Continent eight years previously following a tremendous scandal, with talk of his having settled in Venice some years later. Other than that, none of the sisters had ever heard or seen anything of the man before being informed that not only was he their father’s heir, but also their guardian.
They had all known and accepted that a daughter could not inherit the title, of course, but it was only when their father’s will was read out after his funeral that the three sisters learnt they were also completely without finances of their own, and as such their futures were completely dependent upon the whim and mercy of the new Earl of Westbourne.
But as the weeks, and then months, passed, with no sign of the new earl arriving to take possession of either the Shoreley Hall estate, or to establish any guardianship over the three sisters other than the allowance sent to them by the man’s lawyer each month, they had begun to relax, to believe that their lives could continue without interference from their new guardian.
Until, that is, the earl’s lawyer had arrived at Shoreley Hall three weeks ago to inform them that the new Earl
of Westbourne was very generously prepared to offer marriage to one of the penniless sisters. An offer, the lawyer had informed them sternly, that as their guardian, the earl could insist—and indeed, would insist—that one of them accept.
Diana, the eldest at one and twenty, was half-promised to the son of the local squire and so was safest from the earl’s attentions. Elizabeth, only nineteen and the youngest of the three, had nevertheless declared she would throw herself on the mercy of a convent before she would marry a man she did not love and who did not love her. Caro’s plan to avoid marrying the earl had been even more daring.
Desperate to bring some adventure into her so far humdrum existence, Caro had decided she would go to London for a month, perhaps two, and seek obscurity as a lady’s companion or governess. And when Lord Gabriel Faulkner arrived in England—as his lawyer had assured them he undoubtedly would once informed of their refusal of his offer—then Diana, incensed by the disappearance of one of her sisters, would reduce the man to a quivering pulp with the cutting edge of her legendary acerbic tongue, before sending him away with his cowed tail tucked between his legs.
A month spent in London, possibly two, should do it, Caro had decided as she excitedly packed her bag before creeping stealthily from the house to walk the half a mile or so to the crossroads where she could catch the evening coach to London.
None of Caro’s plans had worked out at she had expected, of course. No respectable household would employ a young woman without references, nor the
dress shops, either, and the small amount of money Caro had brought with her had been seriously depleted, as instead of being taken into the warmth and security of the respectable household of her imaginings, she was forced to pay a month in advance for her modest lodgings.
In fact, until Drew Butler had taken pity on her, allowing her to sing at Nick’s, Caro had feared she would have to return home with her own tail between her legs, before the earl had even arrived in England, let alone been sent on his way by the indomitable Diana!
Dominic had been watching Caro’s expressive face with interest as he wondered what her thoughts had been for the past few minutes. ‘You know, you could simply put an end to all this nonsense by returning from whence you came,’ he said persuasively.
A shutter came down over that previously candid sea-green gaze, once again alerting Dominic to Caro’s definite aversion—maybe even fear?—of returning to her previous life. Once again he wondered what, or who, this beautiful young woman was running away from.
And what possible business was it of his? Dominic instantly rebuked himself. None whatsoever. And yet he could not quite bring himself to insist that Caro must go home and face whatever punishment she had coming to her for having run away in the first place.
What if it were that bullying father she was running away from? Or the brutish husband? Either of whom would completely crush the spirit in Caro that Dominic found so intriguing…
She shook her head. ‘I am afraid that returning to my home is not an option at this point in time, my lord.’
He raised dark brows. ‘So you have already informed me. And between times, is it your intention to continue turning my hair prematurely grey as I worry in what scrape you will next embroil yourself?’
‘I do not see a single grey hair amongst the black as yet, my lord.’ Amusement glittered in those sea-green eyes as she glanced at those dark locks.
‘I fear it is only a matter of time.’ Dominic pulled a rueful face, only to then find himself totally enchanted as she laughed huskily at this nonsense. He realised, somewhat to his dismay, that he was as seriously in danger of falling under this woman’s spell as Butler and Ben—and possibly Osborne—so obviously were.
It was a spell Dominic had no intention of succumbing to. Bedding a woman was one thing; allowing his emotions to become engaged by one was something else entirely. It was about time he changed his tactics; if he couldn’t persuade Caro to leave London by simply asking her, he would have to try a more direct approach…
Caro took an involuntary step back, her eyes widening warily, as Dominic rose slowly to his feet, his movements almost predatory as he moved around the desk to cross over to the door and slowly turn the key in the lock.
‘So that we are not disturbed,’ he murmured as he moved so that he now stood only inches away from her.
She moistened suddenly dry lips as she tilted her head back so that she might look up, fearlessly, she
hoped, into that arrogantly handsome face. ‘It is time I was leaving—’
‘Not quite yet, Caro,’ the earl murmured huskily as one of his hands moved up to cup the side of her face and the soft pad of his thumb moved across the pouting swell of her bottom lip.
‘I— What are you doing, my lord?’
‘You called me Dominic earlier,’ he reminded her huskily.
Caro’s throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘What are you doing, Dominic?’ she repeated breathlessly.
He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘Endeavouring, I hope, to show you there could be certain…benefits to becoming my mistress.’
Caro’s knees felt weak just at the thought of what method this man intended using to demonstrate those ‘benefits’. She so easily recalled the feel of that hard and uncompromising mouth against her own the night before, the feel of his hands as they ran the length of her spine to cup her bottom and press the hardness of his body intimately into hers. ‘This is most unwise, my lord.’
He made no answer as he moved to rest back against the edge of the desk, taking her with him, those strange, silver-coloured eyes fixed caressingly upon Caro’s slightly parted lips, the warmth of his breath stirring the tendrils of hair at her temples.
Dominic was standing much too close to her. So close that she could feel the heat of his body. So close that she was aware of the way that he smelt; the delicate spice of his cologne, and a purely male smell, one that
appeared to be a combination of a clean male body and musky heat, uniquely his own.
Caro made every effort to gather her scattered senses. ‘Dominic, I have no intention of allowing you to—oh!’ she gasped as he encircled her waist and pulled her in between his parted legs, her thighs now pressed against him, as her breasts were crushed against the firm muscles of his chest. She placed her hands upon his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away.
‘I think not,’ Dominic murmured as he realised her intention, his arms moving about her waist to hold her more tightly against him, quelling her struggles as he looked to where her hair was secured in that unbecoming nunlike bun. ‘Remove the pins from your hair for me, Caro.’
She stilled abruptly. ‘No!’
‘Would you rather that I did it?’ He quirked dark brows.
‘I would rather my hair remain exactly—oh!’ She gave another of those breathless gasps as Dominic reached up and removed the pins himself. It was a breathless gasp that he found he was becoming extremely fond of hearing.
‘Better.’ He nodded his approval as he reached up to uncoil her hair and allow it to cascade in a wealth of golden curls over her shoulders and down the length of her spine. ‘Now for the buttons on this awful gown—’
‘I cannot possibly allow you to unbutton the front of my gown!’ Caro’s fingers clamped down over his, even as she glared up at him.
Dominic found himself smiling in the face of this
display of female outrage. ‘It has all the allure of a nun’s habit,’ he said drily.
‘That is exactly what it is supposed to—’ Caro broke off the protest as she saw the way those silver eyes had narrowed to shrewdness.
‘Do…?’ Dominic finished softly for her. ‘As no doubt the wearing of that unbecoming bonnet was designed to hide every delicious golden curl upon your head?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted.
He shook his head as he resumed unfastening the buttons on the front of her gown. ‘It is a sacrilege, Caro, and one I am not inclined to indulge.’ He folded back the two sides of her gown to reveal the thrust of her breasts covered only by the thinness of her shift above her corset.
Caro had no more will to protest as she saw the way those silver eyes glittered with admiration as Dominic gazed his fill of her. Indeed, she found she could barely breathe as she watched him slowly raise one of his hands to pull aside that gauzy piece of material and bare her breast completely. Her cheeks suffused with colour as, even as she watched, the tiny rose-coloured nub on the crest of her breast began to rise and stiffen.
‘You are so very beautiful here,’ he said huskily, the warmth of his breath now a tortuous caress against that burgeoning flesh. He looked up at her enquiringly. ‘I wish to taste you, Caro.’
She found herself mesmerised by the slow flick of Dominic’s tongue across his lips. Mesmerised and aching, the tip of her breast deepened in colour as it became firmer still. In anticipation. In longing, she knew, to feel that hot tongue curling moistly over it.
Where had these thoughts come from? Caro wondered wildly. How was it that she even knew the touch of Dominic’s lips and mouth against her breast would give her more pleasure than she had ever dreamt possible? Woman’s intuition? A legacy of Eve? However Caro knew these things, she surely could not allow Dominic to—
All thought ceased, any hope of protest dying along with it, as he gave up waiting for her answer and instead lowered his head to gently draw the now pulsing tip of Caro’s breast into the heat of his mouth. His hand curved beneath it at the same time as he laved that aching bud with the moist heat of his tongue, and sending rivulets of pleasure into her other breast and down the soft curve of her abdomen to pool between her thighs.
Caro was filled with the strangest sensations, her breasts feeling full and heavy under the intimacy of Dominic’s ministrations, the muscles in her abdomen clenching, that heat between her thighs making her swell and moisten there. She discovered she wanted to both squeeze her thighs together and part them at the same time. To have Dominic touch her there and ease that ache, too.
Her back arched instinctively as his hand moved to capture her other breast, the soft pad of his thumb now flicking against that hardened tip in the same rhythm with which he drew on its twin.
Dominic’s lovemaking had been intended as a way of showing Caro that she did not belong here in London, that she was no match for him or other experienced men of the
ton
. Instead he was the one forced to recognise
that he had never tasted anything quite so delicious as her breast, the nipple as sweet as honey as he kissed her there greedily, the hardness of his erection pulsing in his pantaloons testifying to the strength of his own arousal.
He drew back slightly to look at that pouting, full nipple, stroking his tongue across it before moving slightly to capture its twin, drawing on it hungrily before looking up at her flushed face and feverishly bright eyes. ‘Tell me how you wish me to touch you, Caro,’ he murmured against her swollen flesh.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. ‘Dominic!’ she groaned a throaty protest.
He took pity on her shyness. ‘Do you like this?’ He swept his thumb lightly over that pouting nipple.
‘Yes!’ she gasped, shuddering with pleasure.
‘This?’ He brought his mouth down to her breast once more, even as he allowed his hand to fall to her ankle and push her gown aside and began a slow caress to her knee.
‘Oh, yes!’
‘And this?’ Dominic ran his tongue repeatedly over that swollen nipple even as his hand caressed higher still to weave a pattern of seduction along her inner thigh, the heat of her through her drawers, her dampness, telling him of her arousal.