Shayla Black (15 page)

Brock tore his mouth from Maddie’s.

“
Stop,” he demanded on a quick, hard breath.

She ignored him, her mouth dusting his jaw with soft, seductive kisses before winding its way back to his lips.

He jerked his head away. “No, Maddie. Until we’re married, I won’t take ye to bed.”

The words rang in his ears.
Ye?
Had he truly said that?

Dear God... Humiliation smacked him at the slip in his nearly perfect speech, which he’d worked for years to attain. He didn’t know who to hate more for the blunder—himself for the lapse in control or Maddie for causing it.

“
Love me now,” she whispered.

Maddie’s murmur burned him up. God, she made it sound so simple, as if giving into her wouldn’t mean giving up everything he’d sought all his life, especially her as his wife.

Extracting himself from her embrace, Brock stepped away and fastened his clothing with a curse. Dragging his fingers through his tousled hair, he regarded her with a mix of lust, resentment, and something else that didn’t have a name.

“
That is enough for tonight.”

Maddie fought to catch her breath, drawing in one ragged breath after another. She curled her arms about her waist in a self-conscious gesture. But when she looked up at him, anger flashed in her stormy eyes. “You will be back.”

Brock closed his eyes and cursed his weakness. He wanted her so badly, he could scarcely breathe. He certainly couldn’t think straight or talk properly. Unacceptable. But he knew himself too well.

“
I’ve no doubt that you’re right.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Days after attending the Moore’s ball, Maddie received an afternoon call from her very unwelcome sister-in-law.

Gritting her teeth, Maddie entered the Ashdown Manor’s parlor and found Roberta within, fluttering the embroidered folds of a stylish muslin pelisse about her legs in an absent, fussy gesture. Wondering what the witch wanted, Maddie held in a sigh and refused to consider her own fraying brown frock.

“
Roberta, what a surprise.”

With a lift of her pointed chin, Roberta regarded Maddie with hazel eyes. “That is precious little by way of greeting. Am I not welcome?”

Maddie chose to ignore her question, finding her anger at the woman had not dissipated since their argument at the Moore’s. “Your presence here after three years seems something of an...occasion, since I’ve not had the pleasure of your call following Colin’s death. To what do I owe this honor?”

Though Maddie knew Roberta could hear the sarcasm in her tone, she couldn’t find the inclination to care. Her encounter with Brock last night had made sleep impossible, despite her exhaustion. The passion of Brock’s mouth on hers, the steely feel of him, rigid and thick in her hand, had fired an ache deep within her. She’d yearned for him well into the dark night, her breasts heavy, her body throbbing with this unsatisfied craving.

“
I’ve come to visit my niece,” Roberta announced, patting a dark curl at the side of her immaculate coiffure.

Protective hackles sprang up within Maddie. Roberta had never cared a whit for Aimee. Not while Maddie had carried the babe Colin had told his family was his, not when her daughter had made her way into the world two weeks late in a bloody birthing that had nearly been Maddie’s death, not while Colin had lived and stared at Aimee with hate in his eyes.

“
Aimee is sleeping,” Maddie lied and waved Roberta to the door. “Another time, perhaps.”

Roberta smiled but did not rise from her perch on the sofa. “As long as I’ve come this far, you might explain why you came to Lady Moore’s with Brock Taylor.”

“
Has Lady Litchfield cut you from her guest list since that night?”

A cross look from Roberta let Maddie know she had not appreciated the jibe. “Not yet, thank goodness. But Colin—”

“
Your brother is gone. My mourning is over.” Maddie paced farther into the room and crossed her arms over her chest. “I may socialize with whom I choose.”

Roberta set her face in a stiff pout. “Madeline, dear, I only mean to remind you that Brock Taylor is not good society. No one appreciates his presence at a gathering of quality.”

“
No, they only appreciate his Midas touch,” she returned.

“
Money interests everyone.” She waved her hand in explanation. “But that hardly means they wish to see him amongst the
ton
.”

“
I will keep company with anyone I choose, Roberta.”

She scowled. “Everyone thought it shocking that you should bring a man of such indiscriminate breeding to a gathering of his betters,” her sister-in-law went on as if her opinion mattered. “Still, I think I understand why you receive him. He is handsome, in a barbaric sort of way, and his wealth is massive. I suppose he might be...interesting.”

Maddie knew Roberta baited her and dared not comment. “I really have not given the matter much thought.”

“
Does he tell you of his latest ventures?” she whispered.

The coy question annoyed her. Roberta could not possibly give two figs about Brock’s business. Not that she had any information to give her sister-in-law. Maddie realized with surprise that Brock had never discussed the details of his business with her, only told her of his desire to mingle with the
ton
for his professional growth.

“
I have no notion what Mr. Taylor’s endeavors are, Roberta.”
Except to seduce me to the altar.
“I simply accompanied him to the Moore’s at his request.”

Based on Roberta’s pinched mouth, the answer did not satisfy her curiosity. Maddie elected not to volunteer any more information.

The woman smoothed her mouth into a smile, too calculating by half. “So you welcome his suit. For the money, I presume? It cannot be for his breeding.”

Though Roberta had no way of knowing about her past with Brock, warning instincts rose again.

“
Mr. Taylor is not courting me,” she lied.

He was, but not in the traditional sense. Instead, he was intriguing and arousing her. With him, she never felt cold or sickened by his touch. Instead, Brock made her long to feel his hot mouth laving her breast again, to see his hot green eyes staring straight into her soul as he seduced her with his scandalous words. She longed to explore his solid, muscled body until his eyes closed in pleasure. Until he moaned for her. Night after night, he filled the little cottage with his spellbinding presence and verve...

Mr. Taylor was doing his utmost to seduce her into marriage. And, heaven help her, she felt as if she were melting dangerously close to surrender. Another night like the last, and she might well give in.

“
No?” Roberta asked, all innocence.

“
I am not interested in taking a new husband.”

Her former sister-in-law raised a skeptical brow. “But there is something between you. Mr. Taylor’s attention was quite marked when I saw you two dance.” She frowned. “You wouldn’t stoop to form a…liaison with a man of his station?” She sounded aghast.

Roberta’s views were typical of the
ton
and they infuriated her. “If I did, that would be my concern. I certainly wouldn’t advise you or ask for permission.”

“
I see.” Roberta rose stiffly from the sofa.

Hoping the woman could see nothing of consequence between herself and Brock, Maddie led Roberta to the door.

#

“
Are you going to a party?” Aimee asked, as she sat at Maddie’s feet four evenings later, clutching a ragged doll.

Maddie bent to the little girl and tweaked one of her blond braids. “Yes, but I shall think of you while you have a cozy evening with great-auntie Edith and Vema.”

“
Is Mr. Taylor taking you?” Aunt Edith asked, entering the room through the open door.

“
Auntie!” Aimee jumped up and ran to the older woman, winding her arms about Edith’s wide legs.

Edith bent and kissed the top of Aimee’s head, then looked back to her niece with a shrewd stare.

“
Yes,” Maddie answered reluctantly. “Mr. Taylor asked me to accompany him to this gathering for business purposes.”

“
Business. Of course.”

Edith sent her a benign smile Maddie knew too well to believe. The woman was likely amok with matchmaking thoughts.

Her aunt lifted her quizzing glass and peered at Maddie. “And he sent you a new dress for the occasion, I see. It is exquisite.”

In this, Aunt Edith was right. A rich gray-blue color provided the background for a burnished tapestry of flowers. The flounced dress was trimmed in delicate ivory lace about the sleeves and neckline, which draped in a
V
across her bosom. Only a small piece of lace preserved her modesty, shielding her cleavage from a stranger’s eye. The wide sleeves clung to the edge of her shoulders, then belled out in a rich swirl of silk before curling tightly about her wrists once more.

Maddie certainly could not fault Brock for his taste in
modistes
. The colors, styles, and cuts were always superbly flattering. She couldn’t guess how he had managed to estimate her measurements so accurately, and could only imagine the
modiste
must believe her to be Brock’s mistress.

Moreover, if Maddie had her way, that would soon be true.

“
That pretty flush on your cheeks makes you look even more luminous than the stunning dress Mr. Taylor sent. Have a smashing time tonight.” Edith winked.

Maddie held in a sigh. “Truly, I have no intention of marrying the man.”

“
You ought. I cannot remember when I’ve last seen you so passionate about anything. Come, Aimee. Say goodbye to your mama.”

“
What’s pass’nate?” asked Aimee.

“
It’s like having a fire in your belly.” The elderly woman tickled Aimee’s little tummy. “Isn’t it, Maddie?”

“
It can be.” Still, everything she felt was lust. It had to be. She couldn’t afford to have genuine feelings for the man.

Not wanting to discuss the subject any more, Maddie held out her arms to Aimee, who ran to them with abandon.

Edith shrieked. “Do not wrinkle your mama’s dress!”

Maddie held Aimee close, savoring her special smell. She would have known it anywhere. “I do not mind. Miss me?”

“
I will, Mama.”

“
And I shall miss you. Be good for Aunt Edith and Vema.” She kissed the top of Aimee’s golden head.

The girl nodded, and Maddie began to shoo them out of her room when Matheson appeared.

“
Mr. Taylor has arrived,” he intoned.

Maddie swallowed. “Tell him I shall be right down.”

In truth, she did not want to attend this party. But he had sent her a missive—and a new dress—demanding her accompaniment. As he had pointed out, she was hardly in a position to refuse.

Drawing in a deep breath, Maddie made her way down the creaky stairs, not unaware that the extravagance of her new gown looked distinctly out of place surrounded by crumbling plaster and faded carpet. She shook her head, refusing to dwell on what she could not change.

Left idle, her thoughts returned to Brock.

The cautious part of her knew that, if she had to spend time with Brock, doing so in public was far less dangerous than meeting him at the cottage. He could hardly seduce her in a crowd. However, the fearful part of her knew that she had no chance of breaking Brock’s will and persuading him to come to her bed during a friendly chat and a waltz.

At the threshold of her drawing room, Maddie found Brock within. She examined him as he stared out the window. He was the kind of man made for evening black. The austerity of the color enhanced the silky coffee shade of his hair. The fine cut of his costly suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and back, along with the narrow span of his hips, the hard muscles of his legs.

From touching Brock, Maddie knew that beneath his formal attire, he was no padding and all man. The memory sent her pulse into a riot.

Suddenly, Brock spun about. He displayed no surprise at her presence in the room. His gaze raked her, the appraising stare blatant and appreciative.

“
You look beautiful,” he said simply, voice raspy.

Resisting the urge to lift a self-conscious hand to her hair, Maddie enticed him with a low-voiced murmur. “Are you certain you wish to attend the party?”

Brock’s mouth curled into a mischievous smile as he crossed the room to her side. “You sorely tempt me, Maddie. But tonight is business. The Duke of Cropthorne is expecting us.”

Without pause, Brock took her arm and led her out of the room, into the balmy London night.