Shayla Black (5 page)

“
Courting it is.” He sounded terribly pleased by that fact. “I shall pick you up tomorrow evening for the theater. I have a box at the Adelphi.”

He rose and approached on silent steps. Maddie resisted the urge to back away. Then Brock clasped her hand, his grip rife with warmth and strength as he lifted her fingers to his mouth.

Before she could brace herself, he pressed those firm, full lips to her fingertips, his green gaze gleaming with mischief. Awareness shot up her arm in a warm tingle, all the way to her belly, where it spread through the rest of her body with alarming speed, settling right between her thighs to create a shocking ache. Maddie tore her hand away.

Brock merely smiled. “I shall anticipate tomorrow night.”

“
Goodbye, Mr. Taylor.” She stepped back, hoping her voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt.

“
Until tomorrow, sweet girl.” Brock crossed the room and opened the door.

As he did, a tiny blond tornado hit him with the gale force of a gallop. With one hand, she held a stick with yarn attached steady between her chubby legs. She carried a paper sword with the other. Sporting two swinging braids and gray eyes just like Maddie’s, he knew this must be her daughter.

“
Aimee!” Maddie’s gaze darted between himself and the girl. “You should be upstairs sleeping.”

“
Only babies nap. I’m a knightess,” the child proudly proclaimed.

Intrigued, Brock bent to the child. “A knightess? That does sound important.”

“
I am Aimee. Who are you?”

The girl had already mastered haughty. He laughed.

“
Brock Taylor.” He extended his hand for the girl to shake.

Instead, she grimaced, nose scrunched. “I will rid this house of you, evil knight.”

“
Evil, am I?”

She nodded her little blond head with conviction. “You made Mama mad.”

Brock heard Maddie’s embarrassed gasp, and he chuckled again.

“
Aimee,” Maddie said. “We do not insult strangers. Apologize, please.”

“
So it’s no
faux pas
for you to call me evil because you know me?” Brock teased and was rewarded with a pink splash of color upon Maddie’s cheeks.

“
I challenge you to a joust,” the girl declared to Brock.

“
And should I win, do you promises to stop calling me evil?”

“
Aye,” answered Aimee, chin raised.

“
If I should lose?”

“
To the dungeon!”

Brock suppressed a smile. He’d wanted to dislike Viscount Wolcott’s offspring, but the girl was too cute.

“
Aimee,” Maddie cut in, tone warning. “Leave Mr. Taylor alone.”

“
But I can defeat this bl-blackc... What did you call him, Mama?”

“
Blackguard?” Brock supplied helpfully.

“
That’s it,” Aimee pronounced, prancing on her makeshift stick pony.

Brock glanced Maddie’s way, only to find her shielding herself from embarrassment with a palm over her face. He laughed again.

“
Well, we can’t have anyone thinking me a blackguard,” he told Aimee. “How shall we joust? Surely not outside with swords?”

“
No. That is cold and unsafe.” She shook her head like a chastising parent, as if he ought to know better.

“
You do have a point.”

“
I hide and you find me,” she explained with a little fist on a little hip.

“
Aimee, now is not an appropriate time for this game.” She shot Brock a glare as she stepped between them. “Mr. Taylor was just leaving.”

Brock watched Maddie. She hadn’t exactly welcomed him earlier, but now she wanted him gone desperately, as if she meant to protect the child from him. God, did she think him the kind of villain who would hurt the girl? Perhaps so. He had threatened her with the Fleet. Brock grimaced. He probably should leave, but playing this game might show Maddie that he’d always treat Aimee well.

“
And if I cannot find you, I lose?” he asked the girl.

She nodded. “Now close your eyes.”

Maddie cleared her throat and approached the child. “Mr. Taylor is quite busy and does not wish to play right—”

“
On the contrary,” Brock broke in. “I would never turn down a delightful game with two such lovely ladies.”

“
See, Mama?” Aimee said, then turned to him. “Close your eyes and count to ten.”

“
Brock, you don’t have to—”

“
I want to.” Closing his eyes, Brock began, “One, two, three...”

As the counting continued, Brock heard Aimee drop her stick horse on the thin carpet, followed by shuffling and giggling. He found his grin widening.

“
Ten.” He opened his eyes.

Maddie stood mere feet away, arms crossed, her gaze focused on him. Damn it, she was still beautiful. She still had the ability to make him crave her with just one look.

“
I want you to leave,” she whispered.

“
And disappoint your daughter?” He raised a challenging brow. “Never.”

Strolling away from Maddie, he glanced behind the fireplace screen, behind the worn blue sofa, under an upholstered armchair that had seen better days.

The house needed updating, most likely from top to bottom. If the receiving rooms looked this shabby, Brock could only imagine the condition of the family’s rooms. He would see to their renovation immediately after the marriage, new furniture, gardeners to prune the yard of weeds, new drapes and carpets, some paint.

The rooms he would share with Maddie would receive special attention, particularly the room that held their bed. Definitely
their
bed. He would not have those oh-so-civilized separate chambers. He had been deprived of every lush curve of her body for the past five years. After they spoke vows, he had no intention of doing without her for even one night.

Their chamber would be filled with fine fabrics to slide against the softness of her skin while he stroked deep into the tight clasp of her sex. A wide, thick mattress so he could roll to his back and urge her to ride him while he filled her with every inch of his aching cock. Or perhaps he’d tie her down, leaving her helpless as he drove her to madness with the slow torture of his touch. Yes. And in case the bed seemed too far away, he’d make certain the room possessed plush chairs and carpets to provide comfort when he wanted to bend her over or order her on all fours so he could fuck her from behind.

Blood rushed to his cock. Soon, Brock promised himself. Very soon.

The sound of little-girl giggling brought him back to the present. Aimee had hidden on the far side of the room, so he sauntered in that direction.

She was an interesting child. Full of personality no one had yet forced her to repress. Possessed of Maddie’s eyes, he wondered from whom Aimee had inherited her blond hair and peachy complexion. Sedgewick’s hair had been dark brown, his skin very pale.

Brock bent before a cabinet and heard a gasp. A moment later, he opened the door and found the child crouching inside. She jumped out with a shriek, her braids flying behind her as she sought her stick horse.

“
Am I still the evil knight?” he called after her.

“
I suppose not. Again!” she demanded.

“
Aimee,” Maddie broke in. “That is enough.”

The firmness of her voice told Brock the games were over—for now.

Aimee’s little face clouded over, tightening up as if she fought tears.

“
Another time.” Brock told the little girl as he knelt to her.

“
Promise?”

“
Aimee, let Mr. Taylor alone,” Maddie chided.

Brock knelt down to the girl and tapped the end of her pert nose. “I promise.”

Her little pink lips lifted in a smile at that, warming him. “When?”

At that question, Brock rose to his full height and looked straight into Maddie’s mysterious gray eyes. “Soon. From now on, I plan to be with your mama very, very often.”

#

Riding the old nag she could scarcely afford to keep, Maddie made her way through the spring chill toward the section of London known as The City. She clutched the address of Colin’s solicitor in her palm. Desperation clawed at her throat. If the man had any answer to her dilemma, she must know it now. Though her father had discouraged discussion with Mr. Henry and society frowned upon women taking such financial matters in their own hands, she no longer had a choice.

In a mere two days, Brock had tightened the monetary noose about her neck. With this business of courting, Maddie feared he intended to set a silkier, more dangerous trap.

That realization frightened her beyond sleeping, eating. Aunt Edith had remarked just that morning about her preoccupied frown, while wearing an impish smile. Though Maddie was hardly addle-brained enough to fall for the same cad twice, she could not deny that when he came near, she felt fidgety and excitable. She didn’t like her fast breathing, racing heart, or that hum of awareness. She must banish those stray thoughts recalling the feel of his strong body covering hers with passion and demand.

Dismounting, Maddie secured the nag in the afternoon fog and entered the Palladian style building. With her palms sweating inside her gloves, she made her way to the solicitor’s door.

A plump, bespectacled young man opened the door. “Yes?”

“
I am Lady Wolcott. I must speak with Mr. Henry regarding my late husband’s estate.”

Rejection flittered across the clerk’s ruddy face. “You have no appoint—”

“
Please.” Maddie grabbed the man’s arm. “I truly
must
see Mr. Henry.”

“
What’s this?” boomed a voice from behind the door.

The clerk cleared his throat. “Lady Wolcott to see you, sir?”

Opening the door wide, Maddie glimpsed the portly Mr. Henry, a shock of gray hair and whiskers. His curious expression said he was unaccustomed to seeing women in his domain.

“
Come in, my lady.”

He ushered her through the door, into a smaller room, shutting the door behind them. A sturdy wooden desk, a book shelf, and two chairs filled the tiny office.

He gestured toward one of those chairs, and Maddie sat, clasping her hands together tightly. “Thank you. As you may remember, my late husband, Lord Wolcott, nearly died two years past. He did not leave me well off.”

“
Yes. I do recall.”

She swallowed her embarrassment. “I came to inquire if, perhaps, there remained anything at all in his estate of value. Property? Jewelry?”

“
Hmm.” The man frowned, bushy brows slashing downward. “Let me look. I recall something unusual...”

The solicitor turned about and searched the shelves behind him. Maddie felt her stomach lurch to her throat. After interminable minutes slid by, Mr. Henry retrieved a document.

Scanning the papers, his frowned deepened. He set the papers aside and laced his fingers across his protruding stomach, regarding her with shrewd eyes. “Your husband had no male heirs or relatives.”

“
That is correct.”

“
Your father oversaw the disbursement of his estate. He did not want you aware of the fact that your husband owned a cottage.” Mr. Henry cleared his throat. “In St. John’s Wood.”

Maddie absorbed the man’s words. For years, men of consequence had kept such cozy dwellings to cavort with their mistresses. It should not surprise her that Colin had kept a cottage for the purpose of bedding women he did not find cold. She had not wanted or loved him, no matter how he had demanded it. Ignoring his liaisons had been better than bearing the brunt of his lust herself. Still, shame suffused her.

Thrusting aside her turmoil, Maddie focused on the solicitor. This cottage might provide an opportunity to dig out of poverty.

“
I would like to sell it, if possible.”

“
We can try,” Mr. Henry said without enthusiasm. “I believe, however, you will have an easier time letting it if you are in need of quick funds. Perhaps it could fetch a hundred pounds a year.”

Not nearly enough.

“
I suspect the taxes are past due, as well,” he added.

Maddie closed her eyes for a long moment to fight off a crushing sense of defeat. Damn it, she needed help, not another burden.

“
Did my husband leave anything else? Anything at all?”

He grimaced an apology. “I fear not, my lady.”

Maddie rose. “Please, make whatever arrangements you can to let the cottage and notify me. Use any proceeds to pay the taxes.”