A Scandalous Proposition Page 9

  Determined to find out, he dropped his head and captured her lips in a deep incendiary kiss.

  So this was it. Florentina was quite unable to control her trembling limbs. The moment she’d been dreading, and anticipating, had finally arrived. His lordship’s lips were firm, his tongue warm as it forced its way into her mouth and began a slow, sensual journey of discovery. Now that it was actually happening, it didn’t seem so very bad. In fact, being held so scandalously close to his body was generating some exceedingly agreeable sensations deep within her core. She didn’t try to fight them, and with a soft sigh of capitulation relaxed into his embrace.

  Only to freeze in his arms.

  This was all wrong. She shouldn’t be a-party to such a deception. There had to be another way to persuade him to keep her secret. But by the time the thought had filtered through her addled brain, her arms had somehow twined themselves around his lordship’s neck. She was endeavouring to kiss him back like the seasoned courtesan he considered her to be when, with a smothered oath, he released her. She was horrified when a groan of disappointment escaped her lips. Quite without her knowledge, she’d pressed herself against his body. She’d been enjoying the extent of his arousal, feeling empowered because she knew she was responsible for it.

  “Is something amiss?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “No, nothing.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “Perhaps I’m different to your usual customers. I have no wish to rush and, er…the way things stand, so to speak,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of his groin, “it will all be over in an instant unless I put distance between us. You’re a terrible tease, you know.”

  “That’s why I get so well remunerated.”

  “I dare say.”

  He reseated himself and pulled her down beside him, draping an arm round her shoulders.

  “Do you have much to do in the card rooms at Chamberleigh?” he asked.

  Florentina knew that a number of gentlemen really did go there just to play cards. Since she herself had never set foot in those particular rooms, she was at a loss to know how to answer him.

  “Only occasionally.”

  Lord Fitzroy was looking at her with a slight frown. “Tell me, does old Witherington still favour backgammon?”

  “Oh yes, he often challenges me to a game but is too good a player for me.”

  To her mortification, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You are, sweetheart.”

  “And what’s so diverting about me?” she asked huffily.

  “Nothing whatsoever.” He refilled their glasses, clinked his against hers and drank deeply, looking smugly satisfied.

  “In spite of what you say, I believe you are disappointed in the duchess, my lord, and can’t bring yourself to look favourably upon me as a consequence.”

  “Firstly, my name is Adam.” He placed three long fingers beneath her chin and lifted it until she was compelled to look directly into his eyes. “And secondly, you couldn’t be more wrong.” He was smiling again, his eyes containing a warmth she’d not seen in them before. And something else. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought it was admiration. But she did know better. A great deal better. Not only was he rejecting her but he was also laughing at her. It was too humiliating for words. “I’m delighted to be rid of Philippa. I swear it on my mother’s life.”

  “Oh, well then, in that case…Adam.” If he swore it on his mother’s life then it must be true. Emboldened by her use of his name, she touched his face, much as he’d touched hers a short time ago. She was determined, for some obscure reason, to rekindle his interest in her. Her fingers snagged on the bristles on his chin.

  “I’m sorry. I ought to have shaved again this evening.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I dare say you’re used to such impediments in your profession.” The idea appeared to amuse him.

  “Indeed, it’s an occupational hazard.”

  He stretched his legs out before him, perfectly at his ease, which was a great deal more than could be said for her. “And what others problems do you encounter during the course of your work?”

  “Well…you know. Er, that’s to say—”

  “Yes?” His smile broadened as she desperately searched about for something amusing to say.

  A hand came to rest on her silk-clad thigh, causing her to start and spill champagne over her hand. He gently smoothed the fabric with long sensuous sweeps of his fingers. The intense intimacy of his actions caused her skin to burn, even though several layers of fabric separated it from his direct touch.

  “I dare say some of your gentlemen require a little encouragement in order to achieve satisfaction.” He spoke in a soft, seductive purr. “If they are of advanced years, that is.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right. That’s exactly how it is.”

  He took her hand and slowly, teasingly, his eyes not once leaving her face, licked the spilt champagne away. The gesture was so sensual that her entire body trembled with a deep-rooted yearning. He noticed, of course. His eyes gave him away. They darkened until they appeared almost black in the dim candlelight. He released her hand again, almost abruptly. “But what else, Mrs. Smith? What more do your gentlemen callers require of you?”

  “Well, I really don’t think that I ought to betray their confidences.” She shook her head emphatically. “That would be most indiscreet.”

  He offered her a disarming smile. “That it would, my sweet, that it would.”

  His hand was again caressing her thigh and she heartily wished he would remove it. It was hard enough to play her part with him looming so close, tempting her, filling her mind with forbidden desires. When he touched her, the ability to think about anything other than the exquisite feel of his questing hands deserted her completely. She chanced a sideways glance at his profile as he continued to laugh at her expense and wondered what had brought about such a change in him. He was a different person from the one who’d been so insulting that morning. He was now lighthearted and chivalrous. The epitome of the well-mannered gentleman the dowager spoke of in such glowing terms.

  He removed his hand from her thigh and slipped an arm ’round her shoulders again, pulling her close. Her senses were assailed by the combined aromas of sandalwood soap, horses and pure, stark masculinity. An aroma she already associated uniquely with him. His fingers were twined in a lock of hair that had fallen in front of her shoulder. He twisted it up into a tight knot, his knuckles brushing against her breast as he did so. Quicksilver rushed through her veins at this brief, accidental contact and she gasped aloud.

  Adam laughed and dropped a featherlight kiss on her lips, clearly in no hurry to do anything more. She had thought she’d be grateful for any delay but now appeared to be the one who was in a tearing rush. She slipped a hand behind his neck and drew his head toward hers. He immediately pulled away.

  So he really did mean to reject her. Florentina’s face burned scarlet with mortification.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s plenty of time. I expect you’re used to dispensing with your gentlemen’s needs rapidly in order to move on to the next one, but in our case we have all night.”

  She stiffened at his implication, having temporarily forgotten who she was supposed to be. “Absolutely,” she agreed belatedly in a frozen voice. “Time is money.”

  “Why don’t we play a different game first?”

  “What sort of game do you have in mind?”

  He produced a deck of cards and deftly separated out those that weren’t required.

  “Since you frequent the card rooms at Chamberleigh, presumably you are acquainted with the rules of piquet.”

  “Of course.”

  Florentina frowned. He was here to seduce her. Why the devil did he wish to play cards? Well, obviously, seduction was no longer his intention and he was endeavouri
ng to spare her feelings. But why would that matter to him? She was a courtesan, paid to do his bidding. She felt disinclined to be humoured and stood up.

  “Since you no longer have any wish for my company, I shall bid you good-night.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He seemed genuinely surprised. Presumably he wasn’t accustomed to women rejecting him.

  “I didn’t come here to play cards.”

  He offered her a meltingly gentle smile that caused her legs to quake. “You came here to play any game that takes my fancy. Come and sit at the card table.” He held out a hand. His eyes pinioned her face with such deep intensity that she spontaneously slipped her fingers into his. “I think you’ll find the game I have in mind entirely to your liking.”

  “Whatever you wish.”

  He seated himself across from her, shuffled the cards with long, capable fingers and offered them to her to cut.

  “But I have no money with which to gamble.”

  “For the game I have in mind, money isn’t necessary.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If place of money, for each trick lost you will forfeit an item of clothing.”

  “Oh!” Florentina couldn’t conceal her shock. Or her growing excitement. “But that hardly seems fair. I’m wearing a great deal less than you are.”

  He removed his coat, threw it aside and sat before her in his shirtsleeves. “Does that make things a little more even?”

  “Probably not, but do I have a choice?”

  He flashed another raffish smile. “None whatsoever.”

  “Then why bother to seek my opinion?”

  “Perhaps because I enjoy it when you lose patience with me.”

  “Then I predict that at least one of us is destined for a very enjoyable evening.”

  “I had already reached a similar conclusion.” But he wasn’t smiling this time. “Come, let’s start our game. How did you learn such precise English, by the way?”

  “We had an English governess and weren’t permitted to speak any other language during our education.”

  “Ah, that would explain it.”

  He won the cut and dealt them each twelve cards. She was aware of his eyes seldom leaving her face as she studied her hand. It was disappointing and she discarded the maximum five cards, drawing alternatives from the talon. They didn’t help very much either, nor did the fact that Adam’s eyes had a most disconcerting effect upon her. Concentrating on the game in hand whilst being so closely scrutinised was nigh on impossible.

  Adam discarded only two cards and seemed pleased with the ones he drew in their place. It was totally silent in the summerhouse as they jostled to improve their positions. But to Florentina, it felt as though the atmosphere was charged with anticipation that had little to do with a winning hand. A low branch occasionally rattled against the roof, startling her every time. Other than that, only the sound of Lord Fitzroy’s breathing, and her own impatient exclamations when she failed to draw the cards she required, broke the silence.

  She wasn’t surprised when he won the first trick.

  “Now, then.” He leaned his head in one cupped hand and contemplated her for what seemed like an eternity. “Your left shoe, if you please, Florentina.”

  Without removing her eyes from his face, she bent to remove her slipper and threw it at him. He caught it one-handed and offered her a mocking bow of thanks. Her other slipper followed with the next trick.

  “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable without a stocking on your left leg?” he suggested when she lost the next trick too.

  “Absolutely not. My garter is a separate item of clothing to my stocking. You may have the garter,” she said graciously, lifting her skirts in order to remove it. “But the stocking stays.”

  His eyes followed her every move. “Have it your way.”

  “Oh, but I shall.”

  And she did. Having lulled him into a false sense of security, she won the next trick. With a triumphant smile she tried to decide how best to embarrass him, quickly concluding that wouldn’t be so easily achieved. Not without embarrassing herself even more. She settled for the easy option.

  “Your shirt, I think.”

  “You deserve nothing less.” His wolfish smile told her that she’d somehow played straight into his hands.

  He stood, pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it in her direction. Then he reseated himself, completely at his ease. Her eyes were drawn to his bare chest. Repeatedly. Its solid lines of hard, well-defined muscle fascinated her. Broad shoulders led to sinewy arms that looked too capable to be real. His skin was lightly tanned, almost bronze in the flickering candlelight. Then he moved, and the rippling muscles reminded her that she wasn’t admiring an exquisite piece of art, but a living, breathing man. A man who was regarding her now with an air of studied nonchalance, as though he was accustomed to women admiring his naked torso.

  He probably was.

  She hastily dropped her eyes, only to find them confronted by a narrow waist covered with a dusting of hair that disappeared below his breeches. Another scar, angry-looking and jagged, started below his left nipple and skirted round his side, finishing somewhere on his back. She wanted to ask him how it had been inflicted but the words stuck in her throat. She gulped, only to blush deeply when she became aware that her eyes had drifted lower still and that he was observing her.

  “You appear embarrassed, Florentina,” he said. “I can’t help wondering why. You must see many men in a state of semi-undress in your line of work.”

  She hadn’t, of course. The only other naked chest she’d ever seen was her husband’s. The thought that she hadn’t been nearly so fascinated by his was disloyal and she quickly dispelled it.

  Florentina lost concentration and a few hands later was obliged to remove her gown. To her astonishment, she felt little embarrassment in doing so and threw a defiant glance his way as she stepped out of it. She resumed her seat, wearing only a flimsy chemise and her equally thin petticoats.

  She was acutely conscious of his eyes traversing her body. As she met his gaze, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churned deep within her. She detected appreciation and desperate-seeming passion in his expression and knew that their roles had been reversed. She might have discarded most of her clothing but was now the one in control. She gloried in her temporary hold over this annoying tyrant and smiled innocently at him.

  “It’s your play, sir,” she said, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.

  He watched her and abruptly threw his cards down. “Enough!” he said, standing up.

  “What are you doing? We haven’t finished the game.”

  “I’ve lost my appetite for it.”

  “Because I was starting to win.”

  He conceded the point with a brief nod. “Because of you, certainly.”

  “You can’t bear to think that a mere woman might outwit you, I suppose.”

  “In your case, that’s a situation which would never arise.”

  “Huh, you think me incapable of playing a foolish game of cards.”

  “No, sweetheart. I think you underestimate yourself. There’s nothing mere about you.”

  “Oh.”

  Florentina wasn’t sure what he meant but his words were enough to take the fight out of her. The smouldering expression in his eyes stripped away the remnants of her embarrassment. Never had he appeared more handsome, or more desirable.

  Her body flooded with longing as he pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, putting up no protests. His fingers circled a nipple through the fabric of her chemise so gently that at first she thought she was imagining his touch. She sighed and instinctively pushed herself closer to his hand. Her sensitized nipple hardened to his touch, at which point his fingers stilled and then fell away.

  “What am I going to do about you, sweet Florentina?” he asked in a voice rendered thick with passion.

  “Whatever you wish.”

  “No.” A
bruptly he released her, his face rigid with determination. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

  “You don’t want me?” Florentina could hear the regret in her own voice.

  “I want you very much indeed.” He kissed her but this time seemed determined that their bodies wouldn’t collide. “But not this way.”

  “Then how?”

  “We shall see.”

  Florentina felt she deserved to be miffed. His rejecting her so comprehensively was most insulting. It was one thing for her not to have wanted to be put in this position but another entirely for him to dismiss her like some applicant for a position within his household who didn’t pass muster.

  “But we had an arrangement. What will happen about my situation with your mother?”

  “That’s perfectly safe for the time being.” He was smiling again and by now Florentina was totally confused by his lightening changes of mood. “It pleases me to know that she has someone beside her upon whom she can depend.”

  “It does?” Florentina wondered if he’d been imbibing that evening. If so, perhaps that would explain matters. Wasn’t overindulgence supposed to render gentlemen incapable? What she’d felt through his breeches hadn’t indicated any incapability on his part. But still…

  “Absolutely. And I shall see you both tomorrow evening at the Court for Philippa’s damned soiree, I assume.”

  “Yes, Her Grace insisted that I be included in the invitation.”

  “Surely, as my mother’s companion, you would be included at entertainments at the Court as a matter of course?”

  Florentina smiled. “For some reason I don’t find favour with the duchess.”

  Once again Adam laughed. “Why am I not surprised to hear it?”

  “I’ve shown her nothing but the respect due to her position so I can’t see why she should object to me.”