His Wicked Heart (6 page)

The duke grabbed him just above the elbow. He
spoke low, but the fury in his voice was evident. “Tell me your
prospects.”

Jasper’s temper buckled and snapped,
something he never let happen in public. Until last night…twice in
two days? He turned his head with an angry intake of breath. “I
find it ironic that if you hadn’t intervened, I’d have been married
these past ten years with an heir and plenty of spares. Don’t
you?”

“Wed that lowly country sow?” The duke
struggled to keep his voice low. “You should thank me for
rectifying that abominable situation.”

“I’d thank you more for staying the hell out
of my life.” Jasper neatly shook off Holborn’s grip and then took
the older man’s narrow wrist between his fingers and squeezed. “Are
you going to let me pass or cause an even greater scene? If you
laugh just now, we might play this off as something bordering
genial. If not…”

The duke scowled then chuckled. A dark, tinny
sound that might delude the fools of the
ton
, but never
Jasper. He let go of his father’s wrist and quit the townhouse.

AFTER combing what felt like Greater London
in search of work, Olivia made her way to her lodgings, her feet
aching and her spirit crumpled. The evening was exceedingly warm,
and her clothing weighed heavy on her tired frame. At the end of
her long day, she had nothing to show for her efforts, save the
deposit of ten handkerchiefs on commission with a kindly shopkeeper
in the Strand.

Her stomach growled, but she knew she’d go to
bed without fully satisfying her hunger. The heel of bread and
small wedge of cheese left from breakfast would make a poor excuse
for dinner.

At least two of the shopkeepers she’d
approached had already heard from Mrs. Johnson, who’d been only too
eager to share her negative opinion of Olivia. It didn’t matter
that she possessed exceptional skill. Tomorrow she would redouble
her efforts.

Tilly loitered outside the boarding house.
“Livvie,” she called, “where’s yer lordship this even?”

“He’s not ‘my’ lordship.” Olivia wondered if
her answer to his proposition might have been different if it had
been posed tonight.

Tilly clicked her tongue. “Such a shame.
Girls like us wait our whole lives for just one night with someone
like him.”

Olivia shook her head. “I’m not like you,
Tilly.”

“Because you don’t lift your skirts for coin?
Bah, you’re no better. Scraping away at some half existence.”

Tilly didn’t know about her past, and Olivia
would never tell her. “I don’t want to submit to a man. I can’t.”
Not after everything she’d seen happen to her mother, one man after
another taking from her until she had nothing left. Until she was
dead.

Tilly propped a hand on her waist,
accentuating her undernourished form. “What if you didn’t have to
submit to him?”

Olivia’s ears perked up. “What do you
mean?”

Tilly’s lips spread into a wicked grin. “I’ve
an idea that’ll get you your money without even touching him.
You’ll invite him over, get him in the mood—it won’t take much—then
we’ll switch places. We’ll get his money, I’ll be taking a share of
course, and I’ll get me a spot of fun.” Her eyes narrowed
deviously.

Olivia shivered. This sounded too dangerous.
What if they were caught? “You want to trick him? I’m not sure
that’s a good—”

Tilly held up her hand. “We’ll blindfold him.
He’ll be so worked up, he’ll never know he’s shagging me instead of
you.”

“I couldn’t. Tilly, it’s too risky.”

“Does he scare you?”

Olivia recalled the violent way he’d come to
her rescue. She’d been shocked by his quick defense but not really
frightened. “No.”

Tilly patted her arm. “It’ll be fine. From
the looks of him, he’s got coin to spare. No harm’ll come of
it.”

He
was
a rich nobleman, without any of
the cares that crowded her life with pending disaster. He didn’t
have to wonder about his next meal or whether his choices would be
stolen by a violent man seeking his pleasure. However, justifying
the act in her mind didn’t ease all of her fears.

“I refused him. Won’t he be surprised I
invited him?”

“Men don’t fret about such things. The minute
he gets your invitation, all of his thinking will head south
between his legs.”

That
Olivia could believe.

Could this scheme really work? Olivia wasn’t
sure she could pull off an almost-seduction. If she could, she’d
have the money she needed without sacrificing her virtue. What of
her honor? She winced, but reasoned it was something she could
learn to reconcile, especially after the misery her mother had
endured at the hands of men like him. Furthermore, how many times
had she heard those same men—her mother’s legion of lovers—say that
one willing female was as good as the next?

She firmed her shoulders and clenched her
fists. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

“Of course, dearie. You’ll send him a note
inviting him to come the night after next. In the meantime, we’ve
got some work to do.” She put her arm around Olivia’s shoulders and
guided her toward their building. “I don’t suppose you have any
gowns that show a bit more flesh?”

Olivia glanced down at her chest and touched
the demure lace edging her bodice. “I study the current fashion,
not the street corner.”

Tilly chortled. “Good thing you’re handy with
a needle, then. Because you need to show more of your bubbies. A
lot more.”

JASPER alighted from his coach at the mouth
of Coventry Court and directed March to return for him at midnight.
He then made his way to Miss West’s boarding house, his steps eager
and his pulse quickening. He was surprised she’d invited him. Her
note had been simple, direct:

I’ve reconsidered your offer. The price is
ten pounds. You may come tonight at nine o’clock. I am on the
topmost floor
.

It was still five minutes until the hour, but
Jasper could scarcely wait. He passed the brothel he’d visited the
other night, grateful that his disappointment there had turned into
something far more exciting. He entered the ramshackle boarding
house and took the stairs two at a time.

On the fourth floor, he rapped on the single
door. Barely a moment passed before it swung open. She stood in the
gap between the frame and the door, candlelight bathing her face
and form in its warm glow.

“Good evening, my lord.” She gestured for him
to enter.

Had her voice been that provocative the other
night? He couldn’t recall, but he knew for certain she hadn’t
looked as she did now. Draped in a dark green gown that made her
skin shimmer like a pearl, she was achingly beautiful, but it was
her eyes that beckoned him. The color of jade, they were luminous,
with just a hint of seduction. He was already lost.

She opened the door wider, and he realized he
was gaping. He stepped inside as she closed the door behind him.
Without her to enslave his vision, he took stock of her room. Just
four candles lit the space, but they lent a welcoming quality to
the paucity of the tiny chamber. A solitary window offered little
relief to the heat. There was a small table to the left of the
center of the room with a single chair, then a cupboard, a few
rickety shelves, and a small armoire missing one of its doors.
Against the right wall sat her narrow bed with turned wood posters
at the head and covered with a threadbare quilt. She lived even
worse than he’d suspected.

He turned toward her. “We could have done
this somewhere else.”

She cocked her head. “Is there something
wrong with my room, my lord?”

“It’s just…” he didn’t wish to insult her,
“small.”

“I doubt we’ll need much space.”

On the contrary, his mind was already
devising lurid pictures of the various ways in which he could take
Miss West all over her inadequate apartment. Though he doubted the
table would support their weight.

Jasper reined in his thoughts. It wouldn’t do
to get ahead of himself. “I was surprised to receive your
invitation.”
After you so coldly stated you would never contact
me
.

She moved closer to the window. The flimsy
drape fluttered in the faint breeze. She closed her eyes briefly,
welcoming the cool night air. Her profile was elegant, proud.

She turned toward him, her gaze direct and
warm. “I’m particular about my clients. I don’t accept offers from
strangers, but given your assistance and…tenacity regarding my
safety, I changed my mind. You may call me Olivia.”

Olivia
. Lovely.

“Do you have the fee?” she asked, sauntering
toward him.

Yes, he’d brought it. An expensive sum, but
presented with the sway of her hips and the seductive invitation in
her eyes he’d gladly pay it and perhaps more. Seeing where she
lived, he wanted to contribute to improving her surroundings. He
extracted the notes from his coat and handed them to her.

She pivoted and went to the dresser, on top
of which sat a pretty box painted with roses and vines. She placed
the money inside. The coldness of the transaction ate at him. Why?
He’d been the one to approach her. Was it because he felt like he
knew her, at least a little bit? Had acted as her champion and
witnessed her generosity to those less fortunate when she herself
was clearly in need?

Further thought was interrupted as she came
back to him, her lips curved in a sensuous smile. Was this the same
prickly female who’d refused his escort?

She grasped his lapels and pushed his coat
open. He shrugged out of it and laid it over the back of the chair.
Deftly, she removed his cravat, her fingers brushing his chin and
neck. Lust roared in his veins, as if he’d gone years without a
woman. Once, long ago, he’d felt exactly like this—expectant,
driven. However, he was no longer a fumbling lad of eighteen.
Tonight, there would be no regrets.

Her hand dipped lower, to the buttons of his
waistcoat. All moisture evaporated in his mouth as she pushed the
garment over his shoulders. It dropped to the floor next to the
cravat.

Desire pulsed through him, so strong his
vision clouded for a moment. His fingers itched to pull the pins
from her dark red hair and stroke the soft flesh of her neck, her
back, every inch of her. She smelled of fresh-cut lavender, utterly
feminine. He reached for her, but she danced away, her eyes tilting
at the corners in a sultry manner.

“Is there something you wish for this
evening? Something…specific?” she asked.

He hardened at her invitation. There were a
myriad of things he wished for, but the only thing he really wanted
was her. “Only you.”

She nodded once, moving toward the bed. She
crooked her finger, beckoning him forward. “Sit. I’ll take off your
boots.”

Jasper’s body thrummed with need. She kneeled
before him. The sight sent a surge of blood pounding to his groin.
His fingers curled into the threadbare coverlet. He despised this
room, this poverty. He would surround her in satin and lace, if
she’d let him.

She removed both boots and set them aside.
Now she rolled his stockings down, first the right then the left.
Her fingers massaged his calves, ankles, and the balls of his feet
as she worked.

Around and over, her hands moved. Kneading.
Stroking. Arousing. “Do you like that?”

He barely kept himself from groaning aloud.
“Yes.”

When his muscles tingled from her
ministrations, she moved her hands up his legs. He sucked in a
breath, anticipating the touch of her fingers against his
prick.

She blinked up at him, her dark lashes
sweeping over the vibrant green of her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

The question surprised him, dulling the edge
of his lust. He trusted no one save his aunt and his sister. But
surely Olivia only meant that he should trust her with his care
this evening. And that he thought he could manage. “I will,
yes.”

Her lips curved into a smile and she gestured
to the bed. “Lie back.”

He did as she commanded, swinging his feet
onto the pallet and reclining back against her pillows.

She sat beside him, her hip pressed against
his. The intimacy tested Jasper’s self-control. She leaned over his
chest, her breasts brushing against him. His breathing grew
shallower.

Giving in to impulse, he clasped her sides.
The smooth fabric of her gown caressed his flesh. Her heat bled
through the satin, and he longed to touch her bare skin. He closed
his eyes briefly, relishing both the feel of her and the spike of
lust arcing through him.

Cotton settled against his eyes. He opened
them but saw only blackness. He grabbed her hand, pulling the
blindfold away. “What are you doing?”

Her lips tickled his ear. “You said you would
trust me.”

Yes, he’d said that, but that didn’t mean it
was easy. “Why the blindfold?”

She pulled her head back and gazed at him
intently. Her eyes took on a sparkling, animated quality he’d never
seen on her before. Gone, finally, was the wariness, the unease.
“Our eyes can inhibit sensation. For now, I’m asking you to just
feel.”

He nodded, aroused enough to do whatever she
asked. She finished tying the fabric behind his head. Her breath
gusted over him in a hot little pant. His hips twitched with
need.

The blindfold was tight enough that he
couldn’t see anything. Immersed in blackness, his other senses
amplified, honing in on her lavender scent, the sound of her
breathing, the beat of her heart against his chest. All of it
combined to drive him to an erotic edge.

He curved one hand behind her neck and pulled
her face to his. He leaned up, meaning to kiss her…

Her fingers pushed against his lips. “Not
yet.”

Jasper drew one digit into his mouth, lightly
sucking on the tip. He smiled at her sharp intake of breath.