In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) (19 page)

Chapter

24

“C
h-Charles?”

Charles snatched his hand away and willed his pending orgasm away. It was a very, very near thing. He slapped a sea sponge over his penis and sat up, sloshing water on the tiles.

“Do you have need of the toilet? I’ll be out of the tub in a moment,” he said gruffly.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I didn’t know—the door wasn’t locked.”

“I must remember to lock it in the future.” God, how embarrassing was this, to be caught with his hand around his cock like some adolescent schoolboy. How long had she been standing there anyway? Long enough, judging from her bright pink cheeks. Even through his visual fog, he saw her well enough. She wore a wrinkled linen nightgown banded at the neckline and cuffs with lace. It was a modest garment, but she was as tempting to him as if she’d entered the room naked.

He’d imagined her napping barefoot in her riding breeches, but this was better. She looked rested, the lavender smudges under her eyes fading. Charles wished he’d chosen to sleep rather than read or bathe. He was bone-weary and in agony thinking too much of what was not to be. For Christ’s sake, he’d asked this girl to marry him this afternoon! The blow to his head must have done more damage than he realized.

She was still standing there, making puffy little bunches in the fabric of her nightgown with her fingertips.

“Oh, what the hell,” she mumbled, then pulled the nightgown over her head.

“Louisa!” He was so shocked her name came out a croak. He closed his bad eye and gazed at her in open-mouthed wonder.

“I lied. I knew you were in here—I heard you splashing about. Moaning, too. You are rather noisy when you seek your satisfaction. It—it excited me. I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Charles knew he must look like a landed fish, even though most of him was still underwater.

“May I join you in the bath? I’m not sure what can be accomplished, but I mean to try.”

“Louisa!” Monsieur Grenouille was still present, croaking away. Fish, frogs, and his own mermaid, with her rippled golden hair fresh from its braid.

“It
is
a large tub. I think my parents sometimes bathed together, shocking as it is to imagine one’s parents in flagrante delicto. They were very—spirited—together. Perhaps that’s why Aunt Grace disliked them so. I can’t see her bathing with my uncle, but they must have had intercourse at least once—there is Hugh to consider.”

Even croaking was beyond him now. Charles watched as she lifted a long white leg over the side of the tub. “Scoot back a bit, won’t you?”

Like a mindless drone, he slid back as far as he could go. The sun was setting, but he’d lit the lamps in the bathroom so he could shave off his afternoon stubble properly. Every smooth bit of her skin was visible. What he’d imagined last night in the firelit room could not even begin to compare with Louisa in the fading daylight. She had a faint sheen of silver-gilt hair on her arms and legs, the triangle between her legs a little darker. She sank down into the tub and they were knee to knee.

“I think there are hairpins in the soap dish. Could you pass them to me? My hair will never dry in time for dinner and Kathleen will be irritated with me.”

Hairpins? Soap dish? Did that mean he’d have to stop staring at her? He glanced down to the metal basket that was fixed to the lip of the tub. Sure enough, there were a few long hairpins in it. He fumbled at picking them up, then watched as she wound her waist-length hair into a loose coil and pinned it up.

No more mermaid. But her neck was long and elegant, marred only by the livid kiss he’d inflicted on her last night. He leaned toward her and swept his thumb across it. “Does it hurt?”

“Oh, no. But Kathleen was furious when she saw it. She seems to have taken against you.”

Charles had been perfectly polite to the redheaded maid as far as he could recall. He’d have to try harder to be as charming as Maximillian Norwich.

“What will she think when she comes up to help you dress for dinner and finds us in the tub together?”

“
I’ve
locked the door. Besides, I think she’s busy with Robertson. They really should get married.”

So should we.
But he kept those unwanted words to himself. He’d only known her a couple of days, for God’s sake.

“Well, now what?” Louisa asked brightly.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I had trouble falling asleep, but once I made my decision, I slept well for the first time in ages.”

Charles’s heart gave an erratic lurch. Did this mean she accepted his proposal after all? “What decision?”

“I’ve decided it’s stupid not to make full use of you while you’re here. Who knows when I shall ever encounter such an honorable, attractive man again? I’m determined to be a spinster, you know. Isn’t that the awfulest word? One pictures crooked spectacles, the scent of mothballs, and bad hats. But there’s no reason I shouldn’t enjoy myself where I can. The rest of Rosemont can go hang, but I’ve got
you
for the month.”

“
Awfulest
is not a word,” Charles said repressively. So, she thought to “make full use” of him, did she? He was not a stud, nor was she a mare to be covered. He might want to lift her up from the water and plunge her down on his still rock-hard cock, but he had standards. He was hired to do a theatrical job, not to fornicate. She made him sound like some sort of male prostitute.

“Don’t talk grammar to me when we have so little time.”

Charles squashed the sponge more firmly on his aching cock. “Louisa, this is most unwise. Not to mention one would have to be very acrobatic to have intercourse in a bathtub.”

“I’m sure it can be done if we expend a little effort. Why, you need do nothing but sit there. I can climb on top of you and—”

“Louisa!”

She didn’t bat an eye or blanch, when any of his recruits would have recognized that tone and acted accordingly terrified. Louisa Stratton was not terrified. She gave him a seductive smile and actually batted her eyelashes at him. Had she been practicing in a mirror?

She was impossible. And irresistible. Hadn’t he been thinking of just such a thing when she waltzed in in her virginal nightgown? Of course in his fantasy, her hair was down, but she was right to be practical. One wouldn’t want to annoy one’s maid now, would one?

“The water is getting cold. We should be getting out.”

She swiveled behind her and turned on the tap.

“We’ll flood the house!”

“Don’t be such a worrywart. Rosemont must have fifty rooms. What’s one wet ceiling? Now, where were we?”

Charles grabbed hold of the edge of the tub and pulled himself up. “We were nowhere.” Unfortunately, he looked down at Louisa when he spoke, and saw that pink, pointed tongue at the corner of her lips through the blur of swirling black particles in his bad eye. Her mouth was almost at the level of his manhood, and every single one of his good intentions went down the bathtub drain.

Charles shut his eyes. “Louisa,” he begged.

He heard the squeak of the tap being turned off, then felt her hands grip his thighs. He caught himself before he fell back into the water. Gooseflesh now covered his body, but the cold didn’t seem to have any effect upon his rampant penis.

“I’m not sure I’m very good at this. I only tried it once and we were interrupted,” she said apologetically.

“Oh good Christ,” he growled. She never knew when to stop talking. The last thing he wanted to think of was Louisa Stratton pleasuring some other man with her luscious mouth.

She was
his
.

He shuddered at the first tentative lick, the blood in his groin alive with heat. She grew bolder and licked harder as he moaned all over again, taking him a little ways between her wide, expressive lips. Her mouth was warm, exquisite, and her unpracticed touches of tongue and teeth had him on knife-edge in seconds. Her lack of experience was the purest gift she could give him, but Charles simply could not spill like this no matter how generous she was.

“Louisa,” he rasped. He longed to be seated deep inside her, but that wouldn’t do, either. He pressed his fingers against her jaw and gently detached her. “You must let me keep some shredded semblance of being a gentleman. Give me the sponge, please.”

Her face showed no disgust, only innocent curiosity. Nodding, she fished the floating sponge out of the water and handed it to him. He slid down into the tub, protecting her from the spurt of his completion, the release so strong and swift it took his breath away.

Her brown eyes were wide, watchful, boring into the well-placed sponge. “Does it hurt when it—when it’s over? You look like you’re in agony.”

She was ridiculously adorable. For all that she had an alleged wicked reputation, it seemed she really knew very little. “Did you not pay attention last night?”

“Not really.” Her blush deepened. “I was concentrating on myself. I think my eyes must have been closed. And it was dark.”

“It’s dark now.” The sky beyond the bathroom windows was slate gray, and Charles was pretty sure a star winked at him through the leaded glass. Was he in pain? Not physically, but his heart felt too big for his chest.

The water was getting cold again. Before he’d stepped into the tub, he’d lit the little brazier and arranged some towels on a nearby tufted bench, but the tiles held the chill. He reached for his eye patch atop the bath sheets and tied it back on, righting his world. Louisa sat across from him, her arms now crossed, depriving him of a clear view of her beautiful breasts.

“Let’s get out before we get into any more mischief. I’ll dry you off and you can face Kathleen.”

“That’s it?”

“Louisa, my dear, what would you have me do? I’ve disgraced myself and taken advantage of you. Kathleen is right to detest me.” He stood again and offered his hand.

She took it and climbed out of the tub. “No she isn’t.”

She stood still as he swathed her like a mummy. He squeezed her shoulders and brought her closer. “What you said. About us carrying on an affair while we’re here. I know you think it’s a good idea, an opportunity for discovery, if you like, but it may prove dangerous to us both.”

Louisa looked up at him. “Dangerous in what way?”

“For one thing, I could get you with child, even if we take precautions. Then we really would have to marry, and you say you don’t want that. And what kind of honor would I have to exchange sexual favors for money? For that’s what it comes down to, you know. I’m your employee. I’ve only just begun to make peace with myself. I—I haven’t liked myself in a very long while. If we continue this—whatever it is—I’ll be back in the dumps and grow to resent you.”

She looked stricken. “Oh, Charles! I didn’t think. This is not a lark to you, is it?”

“No,” he said softly, wishing he could kiss away the wobble from her lower lip, “it’s not a lark at all.”

Chapter

25

C
learly, she should be locked up somewhere. Returning to Rosemont had addled her beyond the usual addlement. Addlement. Was
addlement
even a word? She’d add it to the awfulest list and call it good.

Or maybe, instead of Rosemont, it was Charles Cooper. He was sending her mixed signals, like a telegraph wire gone awry. He wanted nothing to do with her now, but this afternoon he’d asked her to marry him!

He hadn’t really meant it, of course. They barely knew each other. And they were from completely different worlds, with nothing whatsoever in common. He was a hero, and she was just a silly heiress, no matter how much she claimed otherwise. He’d made a difference in his world, and she had merely rebelled against hers.

Coming to him in the bathroom was rebellion. A proper sort of woman would have pretended not to hear him or understand what he was doing in there. He hadn’t really been all that noisy, despite what she said. A few gasps. A grunt. Some rhythmic splashing. If her ear had not been pressed against the door, she might not have heard a thing.

But she had been unable to ignore him, having come to the conclusion she should just seize the day. Make hay while the sun shone. Enjoy every inch of Charles Cooper while he was handy. She really liked him, even if he was a man.

Because
he was a man.

He’d been magnificent standing in the tub, his swollen member unavoidable. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to open her mouth and taste him. He seemed to like it very much, and Louisa had to confess she had, too—she’d felt rather powerful scrambling up on her knees and kissing him with such wicked wantonness. After all, he’d done much the same thing to her last night. She was only returning the favor.

But she was greedy, empty, throbbing between her legs, her breasts still pebbled with desire. Or maybe she was just cold, as Charles had warned.

His eye patch was tied on crookedly, his hands still resting on her shoulders. She couldn’t meet his perfect blue eye.

“I’m sorry.”

“For invading my privacy or tempting me beyond reason?”

“I tempt you?”

“Need you ask? I’ve never met anyone like you, Louisa, and I don’t quite know what to do with you.”

You could touch me, just once more. Like you did last night. With your hand.

Or your tongue.

There would be no babies then, would there? Touching wasn’t intercourse. One touched one’s pets, patted and stroked them, tickled behind their ears and raked one’s fingernails down their backs so they arched—

“Louisa? You have a most peculiar look on your face.”

“It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing. Suppose you help me one last time.” One more time would hurt neither of them, would it? Then they could pull the brake and go on with their deception.

“Help you?”

“Like I just helped you.”

He released her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“I understand your reluctance to be my paid lover, I do. What is a man called when he assumes that position, anyway? Women are called mistresses.”

“I have no idea. Fancy man? Stallion? Whatever the name, I’m not going to become one.”

“No, no,” she said hurriedly, “I quite agree. It would be pure folly. I don’t wish your conscience to be taxed any further than it has been. You are completely in the right to refuse to do my bidding in the bedroom.”

“But? I know there’s a but. Do you know when you are thinking, your tongue wiggles at the corner of your mouth like a tender little worm?”

Louisa retracted her tongue and sealed her lips, then objected. “Tender little worm? How horrid!”

“See for yourself.” He spun her to the mirror over the pedestal sink. “Go on. Think.”

“I cannot think on command!” He towered behind her, a smirk on his face.

“Oh, can’t you? You’ve been trying to convince me you’re not some empty-headed deb.”

“I’m too old to be called a deb,” Louisa said, feeling mulish.

“Contemplate the sorry state of the world. The suffragist cause. Why the sky is blue.”

This was ridiculous. Louisa could think of nothing but kissing the smug quirk from Captain Cooper’s lips and getting him to put his hand up her towel. If she wiggled a little, she might just be able to unfasten the tuck and have the damn thing drop on the floor. Then he could put his hand around her hips and discover she was
weeping
with need.

He was still naked himself. For a man who wanted to protect himself from her lust, he was doing a damn poor job of it. Glistening drops of water snaked down his muscled arms as he pushed her toward the mirror. Charles was a little too thin, but well made. What a pleasure it would be to share something rich and delicious with him—cake and fruit and mulled wine in the privacy of their own bedroom, curled up in the covers—

“There it is. See?”

Louisa blinked into the mirror. By God, the man was right. Now she’d spend the rest of her life trying not to look like she was chewing on a worm.

She met his gaze in the mirror. “Charles, I would appreciate it very much if you could put me out of my misery.”

“Shall I hit you on the head like our unknown assailant, or do you have something more creative in mind?”

“Do you remember last night, when you climaxed without me? Well, you’ve done it again. You made up for it later, and very nicely, too—I’ll grant you that. But today you’ve rediscovered your principles. Now we are supposed to pretend nothing ever happened. You’ve explained your reasoning, and I respect your decision, truly I do. But I wonder if you could just postpone your born-again virtue for about ten minutes. I really don’t think it will even take that long. All I have to do is concentrate, and if you touch me in the right places—which you’ve already demonstrated you can do with a considerable degree of deftness and dexterity—I’ll be able to resign myself to a lifetime of celibacy. Or at least a month of celibacy. I suppose once our charade is over there will be nothing stopping me from finding a willing partner in the future.” Though doing the various things she’d done with Charles with someone else somehow did not hold that much allure.

She watched his face in the mirror as she babbled on. At first, he’d simply looked indulgent as he pointed out the habit she was unaware of. Then his face went through several subtle convulsions—one would have to look hard to see them, and Lord knows she was looking hard because the man was so damned handsome. Charles looked a bit thunderous at the end. Could he be jealous? That might be a good sign, mightn’t it?

He spun her again so they were face-to-face. “What are you asking?”

“Well, you’re all relaxed now. Or you were.
I
feel quite tense. Being alone with a gorgeous naked man tends to have an effect upon me. You could—finish me off, I believe you called it last night. It will be difficult to get through another family dinner as nervous as I am.”

“Nervous.”

“Yes. You know. Throbbing a little
down there
. My breasts feel funny, too, like little surges of electricity are running through them. Hm. I wonder if I should get Rosemont electrified if I stay. That might make it less gloomy.”

Charles’s expression was comically confused. Louisa did not know why she was discussing home improvements with him at the moment—she really had other priorities.

“I won’t ask for any attention from you again. We’ll go back to having a strictly professional relationship. Friendly in public when you pretend to be Maximillian, but conforming to strict guidelines in private when you’re just Charles.”

“Oh, shut up, Louisa.” He grabbed her face and kissed her with a kind of fury. She was ever so happy when the towel slid from her body and she was pressed against his clean, violet-scented skin. Somehow he didn’t smell feminine at all. Charles Cooper was all man—why, his enormous penis was poking into her belly even after he’d just climaxed so recently. Maybe they could finish each other off, though Charles would still be in the lead for orgasming. Was
that
a word? Goodness, her vocabulary was expanding. Being with Charles Cooper was like going to some sort of erotic finishing school.

Heavens.
Finishing.
She giggled.

Damn. Charles stopped kissing her. “What’s so funny? Crowing because you’re going to get your way again? I’m just some poor chump who can’t seem to stand up to you.”

“Oh, no. I’m not laughing at
you
,
just something foolish I thought of. You know how foolish I can be—you tell me often enough. Don’t you think we should go to your room? Not mine, because Kathleen might come up. The sink is digging into my back.”

Charles sighed. “I think I must be a patient for your Dr. Freud. I will be totally mad before the month is over.”

“But it will be worth it; I promise you.” At least she hoped it would be. If they only had this one time, Louisa would throw herself into the process with as much enthusiasm as she could summon.

This time Charles locked all the doors against invasion. His bed was rumpled, a book facedown on the coverlet. Louisa picked it up, and Charles snatched it away from her.

“Look here. We don’t have much time. We shouldn’t even be doing this. But if we are going to do this, you’re not going to start off by reading some damned book.”

“Yes, Charles,” Louisa said meekly. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing! This is supposed to be for you—to relieve your tension. Do not touch me.”

“Not at all?”

“Not one finger. In fact—” An odd look crossed his face, and he stalked to the draperies framing the mullioned windows. Faint stars twinkled in the gray sky. “Yes. These should do the trick.” He untied all the gold cords from the faded brown curtains. “Lie down.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with those?”

“I am going to tie you up, and cover your mouth with one of Maximillian Norwich’s silk neckcloths so you will be quiet for once. And
then
, Miss Stratton, I am going to make you much less nervous. You’ll be lucky if you’ll be able to walk downstairs to dinner.”

“Yes, Charles. That sounds lovely.”

Louisa didn’t understand why he growled so at her words, but then she understood very little of the male psyche. She lay down on the bed and spread her arms and legs helpfully toward the bedposts, where he lashed her with complicated knots about her wrists and ankles. As if she’d try to escape. This was all rather intriguing, as long as he remembered to untie her afterward so she could get ready for dinner. She was getting hungry.

Louisa was less certain about the cravat he wrapped about her mouth, but it did have a practical aspect—if Charles’s ministrations caused her to make unseemly noise, the household would not know of it. She hoped Kathleen was still busy with Robertson and would wait for Louisa’s ring before she came upstairs.

She could still see, and Charles looked very fierce indeed. His lips were set in a grim line, as if he was angry with her for asking him to relieve her this one last time. It was a shame he was so upright, but that was also his appeal. She really liked him very much.

What would it be like to spend more than a month with him? Goodness, if they were married they could play games like this all over Rosemont and not worry about the consequences. There were lots of windows and lots of drapery cords. But his wasn’t a serious proposal. It was all part of Charles’s honorable nature to want to protect her from her family’s villainy.

Louisa did not want to get married. She still might have control of her fortune, but she would lose herself and probably her heart. It was one thing to be muted and tied up for amusement, but marriage really robbed women of their own voices and bodies.

She decided it was easier to shut her eyes than to see the shadows flicker across Charles’s stern face as he examined his handiwork. So when he joined her on the bed, it came as a surprise. The mattress dipped, and she could feel the heat of him even if no part of him was touching her. What was he thinking? She was in such a vulnerable position. Did he realize how much she trusted him?

Where would he start? She was as tight as a bowstring, waiting.

The answer came soon enough. Charles parted her already-spread thighs and slicked his tongue over her center, then sucked her clitoris firmly into his mouth. He toyed with it using his tongue, slipping a finger inside her at the same time. She was soaked and he experienced no difficulty when a second finger joined the first. His blunt nose was buried in her nether curls and it sounded like he was humming, each note sending a current from her little shame tongue somewhere deep within—she’d read those words somewhere in a naughty book she and Kathleen had taken turns reading aloud on hot summer nights. It had prompted her to get a mirror to see the accuracy of the description, without Kathleen’s knowledge, of course. My, but women were made in secretive fashion. Every important inch was buried treasure, unlike men who were designed for all the world to see.

Tongues, shameful or otherwise—she’d have to remember to retract hers when she was thinking, but there was no chance of doing much proper thinking now—
oh!
She would have been thrashing about with sensation if she could, yet somehow her immobility was even more of a stimulant. Louisa could do nothing but lie still and feel every touch, hear every breath.