Surrender to the Devil (4 page)

She’d been forcibly kissed and chastely kissed, but never had a man so gently and so determinedly urged her lips to part in order that he might gain entry. Never had she wanted to so willingly comply. He tasted of champagne, rich and flavorful. He tasted of desire.

One of his arms came around her and drew her up against him. As a woman she’d never been this close to a man. She’d never had her breasts flattened against a man’s solid chest. She’d never inhaled a masculine scent so deeply that it became part of her. She’d never had a man’s talented tongue playing with hers, and she’d certainly never slipped hers into a man’s mouth wanting to taste him fully. Everything she’d never envisioned experiencing she suddenly wanted with a desperation that should have been frightening.

But he didn’t frighten her. He enticed her into winding her arms around his neck and rising up on her toes for easier access to that which she so desperately desired. With a low groan, he shifted the angle of the kiss and delved more deeply, more thoroughly, exploring every aspect of her mouth. The heat intensified, and her body took on a languid quality as though she could melt into him. Was this passion, this all-encompassing sensation that the two of them could very easily become one?

He drew back slightly and she gazed into the deep blue of his eyes.

“As you don’t have a lover, Miss Darling, I’d like to offer my services. As I believe we’ve just proven, we’re quite compatible.”

“A re you all right?”

Traveling in the coach Luke had lent them for the journey back to Dodger’s, Frannie turned her attention away from the window where she could see little, save the rain, to look at Jack. “Of course. Why would you ask?”

“You seem particularly preoccupied.”

She was. With thoughts of Greystone’s scandalous proposal, and her even more scandalous reply. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Which meant what, exactly? Was she seriously considering it or had she simply not known what else to say? With a no, would he ever ask again? Would she ever see him again? With a yes, would she later change her mind? Would she have regrets?

After tugging free a glove, she laid her bare fingers against the cheek Greystone had stroked. The sensation was nothing compared to the sensuality he had brought to the fore. Her touch failed to elicit the incredible heat that coiled in her belly and flowed outward until she felt like molten wax. She slid her fingers over to her lips and toyed with them a moment. Again the sensation was nothing like the sweet pressure of his mouth against hers, urging her lips to willingly part…

Once Luke had kissed her and it had been as light as a butterfly landing on a rose petal. Nothing about Greystone’s kiss had been gentle, but neither had it been rough. It had been…hungry, as though he were a starving man and she alone could provide his sustenance. Where were these insane thoughts coming from? Were they a reflection of her own desires, her own cravings to once more be sampling all he had to offer?

Gazing out the window again, she asked, “Jack, have you ever taken a lover?”

“I should think it depends.”

She snapped her gaze back to him. It had seemed a simple enough question. Either he had or he hadn’t. Was there more to this lover business than she realized? “On what precisely?”

“On whether or not you consider a bought woman to be a lover.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the ceiling of the coach as though the answer to a riddle rested there. “I suppose you can’t. A lover, it seems to me should be with you willingly, with no expectations of earning a coin. So with that in mind, I’ve never taken a lover.” He lowered his gaze to her. “Seems a strange question coming from you.”

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t comfortable with him, couldn’t tell him that her heated encounter with Greystone had prompted her inquiry. Where did a woman go for answers, because she knew if she listened to her own yearnings, she’d be knocking on Greystone’s door this evening. “I’m simply curious. I’m not exactly certain what the expectations are for a lover, what the situation actually entails. Would a lover…love her lover? Would he love her?”

“Good God, Frannie, love is hardly involved at all. It’s simply a polite way of saying a gent wants what’s beneath a lady’s skirts.”

With a nod, she looked back out the window. Certainly that was all that the gentleman truly wanted. She was good enough to bed, but not to wed. He saw her as no better than a prostitute. His currency was a wicked mouth rather than coins, but dear Lord help her, she’d been almost willing to accept the terms.

“Ah, dammit, Frannie, I shouldn’t have been so crude.” Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “Why the sudden curiosity?”

The heat of embarrassment—or was it shame?—warmed her cheeks, and she was grateful that the gloomy weather might prevent him from noticing her blush. Their childhood had forged a bond that allowed them to share the most intimate of thoughts and know they were safe from scrutiny or judgment. She darted her gaze to his, then dropped it to her hands. “I’ve had an offer.”

“An offer?”

Gathering up her resolve, she returned her gaze to his. “Someone wants to be my lover.”

He narrowed his eyes for a heartbeat. She’d seen the look before. It often preceded his giving someone a sound thrashing. “Who’s the blackguard?”

Ah, God, she wished she hadn’t said anything, but Jack was one of her best friends. Unfortunately she suddenly realized some things shouldn’t be shared, but who else was there for her to ask? She certainly couldn’t ask Catherine, when her brother was the one causing Frannie’s dilemma. “I don’t want to say. Forget I even brought it up.”

He flung himself back against the seat. “Greystone, the bastard.”

“What? No! Why would you think him?”

Leaning forward again, he took her hands. “Frannie darling, I’m a man. I saw the way he eyed you, as though you were a delectable morsel that would satisfy a man’s hunger. He disappeared for a bit. You were gone for a while. I’m thinking he took advantage of the opportunity and during a clandestine moment he made his indecent proposal.”

It hadn’t felt indecent. As a matter of fact, she’d been quite flattered, but then she’d also been lightheaded and lost in a passionate fog, following his heat-searing kiss. But what really astounded her was Jack’s description of the way Greystone had been looking at her with hunger that she could satisfy. She’d had men leer at her, had them look at her as though she were fine crystal that could easily crack, but never with hunger. It was quite exhilarating. She squeezed Jack’s fingers. “Would it be so wrong, do you think—to entertain the notion of being someone’s lover? I’ve been a thief, a whore—”

“It was not your choosing to be a whore,” he ground out.

“A man paid for me, Jack. Call it what you will, I’ve never freely given myself to a gentleman. I’m nearly thirty, years past the age when most ladies marry. Until Luke asked for my hand in marriage, I’d never given any thought to being a wife. I can’t see myself married.”

“Why ever not? Jim would marry you in a heartbeat. So would I, for that matter, if I didn’t think you deserved far better than me.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Jack Dodger getting married? I don’t quite see that happening.”

As though to further his argument, he reminded her, “He’s a duke.”

Jack knew the discomfort she experienced around the aristocracy. They all did. It was the reason they’d circled around her at Luke’s. “That would be a problem if I had plans to marry him—which I do not. Lovers are private, a secret sin, aren’t they? I wouldn’t have to move about in his world.”

“The answer to your earlier question is no. No love exists between lovers. You’re likely to get very badly hurt, Frannie, and I’d feel responsible because you have a skewed view of the world from working at Dodger’s. I provide men with a safe place to engage in sin, but I don’t want them sinning with you. Besides, any decent man would be fortunate to have you for a wife. You shouldn’t settle for less.”

With a nod, she worked her hands free of his and sat back against the seat. “I suppose it wasn’t truly a compliment he was paying me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said tartly.

“I daresay I probably should have slapped him.”

“Absolutely.”

She sighed and gazed back out the window. The problem was that all she’d really wanted to do was to kiss him again. To want to be so close to a man was a new and exhilarating experience. Pity was she couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the more she thought about it, unfortunately, the more she wanted it.

Sterling knew the hour was fast approaching when everything that had been within his grasp would be beyond his reach.

Sitting in his library, drinking his brandy, listening as the incessantly loud clock on the mantel marked the passage of his life, he tamped down the raw fury that threatened to erupt. Anger required energy he could ill afford to squander. Not now. Later perhaps, when he had nothing better to do except reflect on how much better life might have been if only…

He’d been determined not to have regrets, and yet they hovered near, waiting to make their presence known. He would reflect on them later as well.

Meanwhile, he was obsessed with filling up his reservoir of memories. He had one more he desperately wanted to add to his treasure trove. A night with her might very well be his crowning glory, his last indulgence, his final bit of wickedness before he turned his attention to duty. He had little doubt she would be worth delaying the inevitable course of his life.

Frannie Darling.

She was slender, but something about her made her appear larger than she was—as though she’d battled life’s disappointments and known the taste of victory. Being a commoner, she was not the sort a man such as himself considered taking to wife. But as a lover, he had a feeling she would excel.

Closing his eyes, he brought forth images from their encounter in the library. Her fingers had run up into his hair. Her mouth had played skillfully over his. Her delicate rose scent had wafted around him, and even now he could still smell her fragrance lingering in his clothes. He wanted her fragrance lingering in his bed. It had been so very long since he’d actually anticipated holding a woman in his arms, and she hadn’t disappointed.

He could hardly fathom now that he’d actually propositioned her, had suggested they become lovers. Her bold answer, before she’d turned on her heel and waltzed out, had stunned him.

“I’ll consider your offer.”

Did she mean it? Or was she teasing him? It was a strange game they were playing. She was the devil masquerading as a seductress. Or at the very least she was a witch, because she’d cast a spell over him that he was unable to escape. He was obsessed with the softness of her skin, the green of her eyes, the vibrant red of her hair. He wanted to kiss her again, wanted to slowly peel off her clothes and reveal all the hidden treasures. He’d seen much during his travels, but nothing had ever held his interest as she did. Would she come around? Would her answer be yes? How could she refuse a duke?

But a time would come when even his title would gain him nothing. She would have no interest in him, then. No woman would want him. Hadn’t his father shouted the truth of that loudly enough?

It was the reason his father had opposed Sterling traveling the world, had insisted that Sterling see to the matter of taking a wife first. But he couldn’t explore the world—and women—as he wanted with a wife in hand. He had every intention of remaining faithful to his wife, although he doubted she would grant him the same consideration when she learned the truth of his circumstance. And he had learned the hard way that it was best to keep his failings a secret as long as possible. Lady Angelina had scorned him, had taught him that love was an illusion easily shattered by the truth.

He’d not make that mistake again. He’d hold his secrets until after he had a wife. But before he began to seriously pursue marriage, he wanted one last night of unbridled passion. And for that, only one woman would do.

Frannie Darling.

He could still taste her on his lips. He longed to release every button that denied him a view of her skin. Based on the smooth complexion of her face, he had little doubt that she was exquisite perfection beneath her clothes. Her breasts would fit nicely in the palm of his hand; her nipples would harden beneath the slow stroke of his tongue. He wanted to trail his mouth along—

“More brandy, sir?”

The unexpected voice should have startled him, but lost in thoughts of Miss Darling along with the abundance of brandy he’d swallowed had made him lethargic. He was almost floating, knew he should refuse, because he hadn’t even heard his servant enter the room, but that wasn’t unusual. His servants always exhibited the utmost in decorum and glided along without a sound, as though their feet never touched the floor.

In answer to the question, Sterling held the glass up slightly, in the mood to get completely foxed. Maybe then he would be able to shut Miss Darling out of his mind so that he could sleep. Or maybe it would be better to entice her into his dreams, where she would desire him as much as he—

The brandy spilled over the rim of his glass, onto his thigh, and splashed onto his shirt. “Dammit, man!”

Unsteadily, he lurched out of the chair and spun around—

To discover a servant hadn’t entered his sanctuary. No indeed. It had been violated by Jack Dodger and James Swindler. He supposed he should count his blessings that only two and not four of the ruffians had sneaked in on him.

Swindler set the decanter back on the table with incredible delicacy for a man so large.

“How did you get in here?” Sterling asked, wishing his words didn’t sound quite so slurred. He was having more difficulty than usual bringing his shadowed world into focus. Damnation, why hadn’t he lit more lamps or poured himself fewer snifters of brandy?

“Not important,” Jack Dodger said. “What is important is for you to realize that you can do nothing to keep us out if we decide we want in.”

“I would threaten to call around for a constable, but I suppose that would do me little good considering an inspector has broken into my residence.”