The Accidental Courtesan (6 page)

No amount of protesting could keep Charles from his course.

If not for a fire at the hotel where he'd been staying, Gavin wouldn't have been forced to stay with Charles. Close quarters gave his cousin ample opportunity to press his case. Gavin needed to find a town house of his own. And soon.

The only positive of living with Charles was meeting the mystery woman. But she wasn't in the crush, and his cousin was busy lining up potential wives for introductions.

Fleeing the party was Gavin's best option, before his cousin arranged a wedding of inconvenience. Misery loved misery, and Charles desired all the men around him to be just as miserable as he was in his marriage.

Gavin nodded to an acquaintance and took the most direct route toward the doors. Several young women cast him covert glances that he chose to ignore. He had almost made it to freedom when someone finally threw open the doors and a light breeze filtered across his warm face.

But it wasn't the air that drew his attention and caused his body to turn stiff and focused. It was the light scent of lemon and cinnamon that brought him upright in his tracks.

I
nstant awareness zipped through his body like a fox sensing a hare hiding under a nearby bush. His gaze moved from face to face as he searched for his seductive visitor in the swirl of party guests. She was here! He knew it as well as he knew his own name. Never once before had he smelled that combination of scents in the sea of lilac and lavender most women favored.

He might not clearly remember her face, but her scent was permanently etched in his mind. He'd not rest until he found her, even if he had to sniff dozens of necks. A slow grin spread over Gavin's face. What a stir that would cause among the esteemed guests. He suspected he'd spend the rest of the evening fending off dueling challenges from irate husbands and fathers.

Gavin moved slowly through the crowd, his head turning this way and that. Nothing could distract him from his mission.

He was following her fleeting scent, as difficult as looking for a hairpin in a field of hay. But the little courtesan-thief was near. She'd not get away this time.

It was nearly a half hour before he spotted a woman in pale cream, her flaxen hair upswept to show the perfect curve of her graceful neck. Her eyes shone as she turned slightly and smiled at some witticism spoken by her companion. Gavin's eyes locked onto the side of her face.

There was something familiar in her fine features. With his eyes he followed her neck downward to her trim back, then to a perfect, graceful rump.

If this wasn't his elusive courtesan, she was a nearly perfect replica from behind. The only way to know for certain was to cup her buttocks in his hands. He grinned. He had to wonder about the severity of the pummeling he'd receive from her companion if he tried.

The woman was in conversation with a tall man in blue who smiled down at her with affection. The two seemed intimately acquainted as she brushed something off the man's sleeve.

Gavin scowled. If the man was her lover, it was a complication he didn't need. If there was an arrangement between the pair, it could be difficult untangling the relationship. With her beauty, she wasn't the sort of woman a man would give up easily.

There were bits of memories coming together, a piece at a time. Gavin gnashed his teeth. Though he couldn't recall everything about last night, he saw enough in the curve of her tiny, delightful ears, and the way she tilted her head slightly when listening to her companion, to gain confidence. He was certain his would-be courtesan tipped her head in just that way. It would take a closer look to confirm his suspicion.

Eyes narrowed, he began taking a straight path across the space between them. Not wanting to alert her to his presence, he kept the crowd between them until she was steps away, then veered off to circle her and her companion.

The blur of moving bodies faded as he saw more of her: her bright smile, her husky laugh, and a closer view of her sparkling eyes. She was stunning—and clearly not a courtesan. She was a Lady from head to toe. He didn't need an introduction to see how well she fit in at this party.

Still, it didn't mean she was nobility. Many courtesans could blend quite well into society, as some came from impoverished, albeit well-placed, families.

Desperation drew many to that life. Others saw it as a place of power in a man's world. Either way, this woman was no common doxie.

Gavin watched her place a gloved hand on her companion's arm a second time, and felt a rush of annoyance pass through him. He wanted to jerk her hand away and drag her from the room. He wanted her touch; he wanted to press his face into her hair to confirm her identity through her scent. To see the intimacy between the pair only succeeded in raising his frustration.

“You must excuse me, Simon,” she said, leaning in. Her lilting voice carried through the din. It was filled with good humor. “I must find Brenna.”

Simon? Gavin blinked as she walked away. Given names were seldom used in society. His curiosity rose tenfold as he shook off his musings, locked onto her swinging hips, and headed off in her wake. If she truly was his mysterious would-be courtesan, he intended to get close enough to find out.

Without her protector looming over her.

 

N
oelle spotted Brenna, clad in dark green satin. Her cousin was deep in conversation with an animated elderly woman who tapped her cane frequently when speaking, as if to prove a point. She decided not to interrupt. She needed a moment alone to collect herself. To find a place out of the crush of bodies in which to breathe in some perfume-free air.

The evening was warm and the ballroom was stifling. A sheen of perspiration dampened the skin beneath her dress and caused the fabric to itch against her skin. Finding a cool spot to clear her head wouldn't be too difficult, if she headed for one of the three sets of double doors that led outside.

Of the three, the set farthest to the right appeared to overlook the darkest part of the terrace. She could slip away for a moment of welcome respite.

Then a flash of gray caught her attention as someone stepped into her line of vision. Not twenty feet away, blocking the doorway and clad in a dark gray coat, striped waistcoat, and white breeches, was the earl.

She gasped, and her feet faltered. His gaze locked onto hers. There was something in his eyes that gave her a clear indication he wasn't just admiring an attractive woman. No, he seemed to recognize her!

Her stomach lurched, and the room wavered.

It was impossible he could recognize her! They'd spent perhaps ten minutes together with only a small fire to light the room. And he'd been thoroughly foxed.

It took every bit of the training she'd received since birth not to react to his appearance, in spite of the warmth flooding across her skin with the memory of his kisses. She lifted her nose and turned away as if they were strangers.

Several matrons walked past, and she ducked behind them like a coward. A set of doors opened to a hallway on her right. Noelle hoped it led to a hiding place.

The matrons stopped near the doors, and she slipped into the dim light of the hallway. A quick glance behind her confirmed that she'd lost him in the crowd. Relief flooded her mind as she stumbled into the nearest darkened room. With unsteady steps, she followed the trail of moonlight seeping through the drapes to a private corner of the room, behind a large potted plant.

Once hidden away, she closed her eyes and inhaled to steady her heart.

So close. She let her mind drift to the moment she'd caught his eye. Had he been looking at her only out of curiosity, or had he actually thought he knew her?

She hoped not.

He'd barely been able to stand last night. Likely the man thought her just a dream. Still, he was watching her as if he knew her, as if he wanted her. As if he wouldn't rest until he kissed her again.

Noelle groaned. It had been a mistake to attend this party. She should have allowed the full Season to pass before venturing out again. By then he'd have forgotten all about her.

Her shoulders slumped. Why couldn't
she
forget him? Why did her mind have to remember his perfect jaw, his blue eyes, and that muscled chest so warm beneath her exploring hands?

A whisper of heat brushed her ear. “I have decided to take you up on your offer, sweet.”

Noelle shrieked and spun around, landing awkwardly against the intruder's chest. She lifted her gloved hands to ward him off. Her fingertips ended up splayed over firm and familiar muscle beneath his open coat and waistcoat. The earl stared down at her with the same intensity that he possessed in his bedroom. As if she were a meal to be feasted upon.

“Sir, please. Stand back!” Her outrage was genuine. He had no right to accost her in such an intimate fashion. If only she'd not been woolgathering and had heard his approach, the window would've been an avenue of escape.

He leaned back slightly and raked his gaze over her face. Her breath came out in little explosive bursts. He was too close, too all-consuming, to the point that she was certain she'd lose the capacity to breathe at all. She smelled his exotic, spicy scent, felt his warmth. Everything about him was burned, unwelcome, in her mind.

Her limbs stiffened, and she couldn't move.

It was he who spoke first. He leaned down as if to take her into his confidence, with his cheek pressed lightly against her temple. “I do apologize, love. I thought after the intimacies we shared, a few whispered words in your delightful ear would be most welcome.” He lifted his head to stare at her mouth.

He did remember her! She wanted to cry. She'd be ruined if he decided to make their association public! All she could do now was deny, deny, deny, and hope she could convince him he'd made an egregious mistake.

“Intimacies?” She struggled to find a measure of calm. Difficult to do when her throat closed off and her heart pulsed so hard she was certain it would stop beating altogether.

“Yes, intimacies.” He grinned wickedly.

“I do not know you, sir,” she protested. She was certain he could hear her lies, the guilt in her voice. The press of his body and his wicked grin caused torturous feelings to overtake her body. She was aware of him with a painful ache that she knew wouldn't subside until his hands were on her again. “W-we have never met.”

He cocked up a brow and flashed a row of perfect white teeth. “Indeed? I remember the night well. Shall I tell you, moment by moment, every detail I remember?”

Deep down she knew she should push him away, but she was pinned between his body and his arms, his hands flattened on the wall behind her. His hint of scent was brutally and sensuously male. It took sheer will not to press her face against his corded neck.

“I f-fear you have m-mistaken me for another, sir.” She forced herself to remain stoic, regardless of his breach of propriety. Any reaction would confirm his assumptions. “I demand you step back, now, before I call for my cousin to eject you from the house.”

He gave a low chuckle. Mirth lit up his beautiful eyes, and she bit back a groan. Laws should be passed to keep such a man from being allowed to move freely through the female populace. Looking down, he ran a hand along her arm and closed it over her wrist. She nearly toppled over.

“Mistaken? Perhaps I thought so once, before I stepped close and smelled your delicious skin.” He lifted her hand to brush his lips over her knuckles. He smiled into her eyes while she gaped like a trout. “You have a distinctive scent, my dear courtesan. There is no mistake.”

Before she could collect her thoughts and issue a sharp retort, he released her hand, pulled her against him, and closed his mouth over hers!

Noelle faltered against him as he stole her breath with his searching lips. Besieged with confusing emotions, she gripped his coat to keep upright as his tongue plunged deeply into her willing mouth.

The image of his wife and children rose unbidden to quell her passionate response. She tore her mouth free.

“You are a married man, My Lord.” Hard bands of sinew bunched in his arms as she tried to break his hold. He refused to give her any freedom. “I will not be your plaything.”

He lifted his head and his eyes narrowed. “I think you are mistaken, mistress.” He shrugged, confused. “I have no wife.”

“We both know that is a lie,” she snapped. At least he could have the decency to be honest. It wasn't as if marriage stopped men of wealth from taking lovers. “You not only have a lady wife but children as well. You would do well to turn your affections toward your family and leave me be.”

At that moment a couple strolled past the open door to the shadowy hallway. Noelle took the opportunity to free herself with a shove. His hands dropped away. She lifted the hem of her gown and raced to the door, quickly peered out to assure herself she wouldn't be observed, and then hurried toward the ballroom at a rapid clip.