Surrender to the Devil (7 page)

Or would she likely take insult at that tack? Would she see it as beneath her to accept a gift from him in exchange for providing a night of pleasure in her arms? He might have to take a little more time than he’d planned with this seduction, but seduce her he would. A time would come when things he wanted would be denied him, but the time had not yet arrived.

Immensely satisfied with the direction of his plan, he drained the last few drops from the bottle and sat back. A moment of panic surged through him when he realized darkness had fallen. Damnation. He had been foolish to come out here so near to dusk and to be so absorbed with thoughts of Miss Darling that he hadn’t noticed the dimming light.

Standing, he focused on the lights spilling out from the windows of his residence. They were muted, difficult to see. It was always more difficult at night to make out his surroundings—but if he just went slowly…

Of late, it seemed he was forever going more slowly. It wasn’t a luxury he had when it came to the lovely Miss Darling. He needed to take a wife while he could still give the impression that his vision was not a problem—which meant in turn that he needed to satisfy this craving he had to taste and relish every sensual aspect of Frannie Darling.

Sterling had not expected the long line of wagons that his driver had recklessly swerved around in order to gain entrance through the gate of the orphanage. He’d not expected this home for children on the outskirts of London to be so monstrously large, reflecting such exquisite architecture. He’d not expected all the people scurrying around, hauling furniture inside.

As his driver brought the coach to a halt, suddenly Sterling very much did not want to be here. Crowds, blast it all, when he could not easily see those who surrounded him, had become the bane of his existence.

The footman promptly opened the door. Sterling was about to tell him to instruct the driver to return home when he spotted Catherine, and—damnation—she spotted him. The joy on her face at the sight of him only served to add to his unease.

“Sterling, you came!”

As she hurried over, Sterling realized he had no choice now except to endure a few moments with all these people and this activity. As he agilely leaped out, he turned his head to see that his footmen had already disembarked from their carriage and were standing at attention waiting for their orders. He’d thought Miss Darling would be so grateful for his generosity in offering his own servants—

Stupid. Why did he feel this insane need to impress a woman of the streets? It should be enough that he wanted her. Most women whom he desired were flattered by his attention. They required no more of him than that.

Catherine came to a stop in front of him. While she was appropriately wearing black, still mourning the loss of their father, her dress looked as though it might have once been worn by a washerwoman. Dirt smudged her nose and one cheek, and her hair was in danger of toppling from its pins at any moment. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen her look happier.

“I brought servants to assist,” he said gruffly.

“I can see that. Frannie will be absolutely delighted. Come inside, so I can let her know you’re here.”

“You told her to expect me?” What if he’d changed his mind? Would she have been disappointed?

“No, of course not. But she is a bookkeeper and she keeps tally of everything, so she’ll want to know you’ve come to help.”

Catherine was babbling about all the work that needed to be done as she guided him toward the entrance. He could see now why Catherine wanted her money to go to this endeavor. The upkeep would be monstrous. Miss Darling would certainly be in need of financing for her enterprise. Bookkeepers didn’t receive an exorbitant salary.

As they walked through the door into the building, Claybourne was striding out. He came to an abrupt halt. “Your Grace, what an unexpected surprise.”

“By its very nature a surprise is unexpected,” Sterling said, annoyed that Claybourne appeared so comfortable in these surroundings, while he felt decidedly out of his element.

“You have me there. You can put your jacket in the corner office, roll up your sleeves—”

“I brought servants.”

“Frannie will be pleased with the extra hands.”

“Where is she?” Catherine asked.

“Last I saw her was upstairs. She should be down momentarily.”

“I want to let her know Sterling is here.”

Claybourne narrowed his eyes. “She’s very precious to us, you know.”

Another warning? Did he not know that one had already been delivered? “As my sister is to me,” he replied.

Catherine sighed. “I don’t know why the two of you must always act distrustful of each other.”

Perhaps because they knew how men thought. Sterling was growing weary of the encounter. He should simply leave. He lifted his gaze to the stairs and suddenly, nothing else mattered. She was there, standing halfway down, Swindler halting and glancing back up as though they’d been walking down together and she’d come to an unexpected stop.

His memory of her didn’t do her justice. What he had considered vibrant had been nothing more than washed-out images. In person, her hair was a deeper red, and he knew her eyes would be a more alluring green. Her dress, buttoned clear to her chin, left everything to a man’s imagination, fueling it, making him wonder if what he envisioned could truly exist in the flesh. He thought nothing would be more satisfying than undoing each of those buttons at his leisure and discovering the treasures they kept hidden.

Swindler said something to her—but not before giving Sterling a condescending once-over—and she jerked her attention to Swindler and smiled. The slow movement of her lips was enough to almost bring Sterling to his knees. What in God’s name was wrong with him? She wasn’t even bestowing her charms on him, but he was enchanted all the same.

Miss Darling began to walk down the stairs. Swindler joined her, his gaze shifting between Miss Darling and Sterling as though he could see the strange bond that joined them. Sterling already knew he didn’t approve of it. He was simply grateful that no evidence of his bruised eye remained.

“Your Grace,” Miss Darling said with a slight curtsy as she came to stand in front of him.

Like Catherine, she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and he clamped his hands behind his back to stop himself from reaching out to rub it away. It didn’t detract from her perfection. In some ways, it enhanced it.

He bowed. “Miss Darling. I’ve brought six footmen to assist you in your endeavors.”

“How very kind of you.” She turned slightly. “Have you been introduced to Inspector Swindler from Scotland Yard?”

“We’ve met,” he said curtly.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she glanced suspiciously between the two men. “I see. Would you care for a tour, Your Grace?”

“I would be most interested, thank you.” And perhaps they could dispense with some of the damned formality.

“Jim, will you see to giving his footmen instructions?” she asked.

“Maybe I should stay with you.” While his words were to her, he was still scrutinizing Sterling as though he considered him some reprobate.

“We’ll be fine. The more quickly people are put to work, the sooner we’ll be done and I can start moving in orphans.” She touched Swindler’s arm, and Sterling had an irrational urge to snatch her hand away. He didn’t want her touching others, he wanted her touching him. “Please.”

Swindler nodded. “I can never refuse you, you know that.” Then he walked off, his shoulder clipping Sterling’s as he walked by. Sterling should have anticipated that bit of bravado was coming. Instead he’d been watching Miss Darling, so he continued to give the impression he’d chosen to ignore the unspoken warning.

“We should get back to work,” Catherine said, slipping her arm through Claybourne’s and leading him away.

Sterling hadn’t seen enough of Catherine with her husband to judge their relationship, but it seemed she wasn’t averse to giving a few orders—and Claybourne had no qualms about following them. Once they were beyond hearing, Miss Darling said, “The upstairs is rather boring. It’s only bedchambers.”

“I’ve never found bedchambers to be boring.”

She blushed and glanced down at the floor, and he wished he’d bitten his tongue before speaking. He’d obviously embarrassed her. Working in Dodger’s where women often provided men with companionship, she had to possess a keen understanding of what transpired between a man and woman. He wondered if she was remembering his proposition.

“But I suppose they are very much all alike,” he said, and her gaze shot up to his, her brow furrowed as though she was trying to determine if he was referring to her familiarity with bedchambers or his. “Where would you suggest we start?”

“If you’ll follow me,” she said and led him down a hallway.

She opened the door to a room with shelves lining the wall.

“The library, I presume,” he said quietly. “I’ve a fondness for libraries.”

Blushing becomingly, she strolled to a large window that overlooked a garden. He could see several gardeners toiling. Miss Darling was apparently determined to make this orphan asylum resemble a home as much as possible. He considered closing the door, but he supposed considering the looks Claybourne and the inspector had given him that he needed to take care not to offend or give the wrong impression. Besides, if he did close it, he might find himself deciding that gentlemanly behavior was no longer warranted. Now that he was back in her presence, he wanted her all the more.

“I’m quite surprised you’re here,” she said softly. She faced him. “I suppose you came for an answer.”

“Truthfully, I’m not certain why I came.” He ambled over to the window and allowed his gaze to fall on her. “That’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m here. I wanted to see you again.”

“I’m at Dodger’s every night. I see to his books, as you know.”

“But I imagine if I were to go into the hallways barred from customers that I might meet resistance. Tell me, Miss Darling, where do you live?”

“I have an apartment at the back of Dodger’s.”

He’d heard Dodger provided rooms for some of his employees. She had to be spending every farthing she’d ever earned on this enterprise. He looked at the gardeners hard at work, digging and arranging. “I’d not expected something so…elaborate. The land, the building…they cannot have come cheap. How will you maintain them?”

“We have benefactors. Luke in particular is very generous. Perhaps you’d care to make a donation, Your Grace.”

The devil was in her bright green eyes as she gave him an impish grin. Sunlight, which had been absent the last time they stood together in front of a window, poured over her. She had a faint sprinkling of freckles across her delicate upturned nose. He wanted to loosen the top two buttons of her blouse, just to catch a glimpse of the column of her throat. He wanted one night with her, but he wanted no moment rushed. “How much would please you, Miss Darling?”

She licked the lips that he had tasted and desperately wished to taste again. “We’re talking about a contribution to the orphanage, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“It would come with no strings, no expectations of receiving anything in return?”

“It seems it should come with something. A smile, perhaps. What is a smile worth to you?”

Disappointment washed over her features, and he wondered how she could have possibly taken offense.

“It’s wrong to place a price on things that should never carry a price,” she said.

“Everything carries a price, Miss Darling. I would think that being raised as you were that you’d be aware of that.”

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Your Grace, to believe you know exactly how I was raised.”

He swore beneath his breath. She was correct. He knew nothing about the reality of her life. “I’ve somehow managed to insult you.”

“We come from very different worlds. Have you never given anything away simply for the joy of giving it away?”

“Ah, but you see, there is still the trade. You give away something and in return you gain joy.”

“By that notion, seeing the smile should be its own reward and should require no payment.”

“I can see you’re too clever by half. All right then, I shall donate five hundred pounds to your cause.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, and for that I shall most definitely smile.”

And she did, a beautiful smile that lit up her entire face. He would have paid ten times that amount to keep it there, but he suspected money was not the key to her heart. His thoughts stumbled. It was not her heart he wanted. He wanted her curves, her flesh, her heat…

Before he could convince himself it would be unwise, he settled his mouth over hers, not at all surprised to discover that it fit exactly as he remembered. He’d dreamed about it often enough during the past two weeks. She tasted of lemon and sugar. He was willing to bet the previous Earl of Claybourne wasn’t the only one with a penchant for keeping sweets handy. Moaning low, she opened her mouth fully to him and he suddenly wasn’t thinking about anything except how wonderful it felt to once again have her in his arms.

She fit against him as no other woman ever had, as though she belonged. He cursed himself for not closing the door earlier.

As her arms wound around his neck and her fingernails scraped along his skull, need ripped through him with a blinding fierceness. He wanted to know the full measure of her passion.

Panting and breathless, she tore away from him. He wanted to yank her back, take her in his arms, and carry her to his coach. He wanted her in his bed. He wanted her slowly. The fire of passion burning in her eyes ignited the flames of desire within him. He’d sampled women in every country he’d visited, but he couldn’t recall wanting one more than he yearned for her.

“Come with me.” He barely recognized the low raspy voice as his own.

She shook her head quickly. “I can’t. I have responsibilities here.” She touched his chin as though she’d return for another kiss and just as abruptly dropped her hand to her side.

He cradled her cheek. “Apparently I unintentionally lied earlier. It appears I came for your answer, and it seems that I have it.”