Wedded in Sin (14 page)

Such a thing was a potent drug to her outside of the thrust of his tongue and the press of his groin. Confidence that consumed him and seemed to invade her with his every caress. With him in charge, nothing could hurt her and all bad things just disappeared.

Or perhaps he simply made her forget her cares. His mouth left hers to press kisses into her cheek and down toward her neck. She felt his hands tighten on her hips as he pulled her close. His organ—thick and hot—pressed rhythmically against her, an act that should have alarmed her, but instead added to the wash of sensation. Her heart thundered and she couldn’t catch her breath.

“We cannot do this in the middle of the street,” he whispered against her throat. Then he opened his mouth wider and she felt the slight scrape of his teeth across her neck. How could teeth feel so erotic? She shivered and her breath stuttered in her chest.

He lifted his head and she saw that his eyes were dark with passion. He looked around, his eyes narrowing.

“Samuel?” she whispered. Her mind was returning to her, and with it all the thoughts and frustrations that so consumed her.

“Come,” he said, starting to pull her along. “I have rooms nearby.”

He turned her slightly and started guiding her. But his legs were longer than hers, his command of the path better than hers. She stumbled. He caught her, of course, but the alarm that shot through her body was like a scream. It jolted her mind into thought.

She slowed her steps. He didn’t notice at first, but caught on fast enough. Then he turned, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said gently. “I have everything well in hand.”

She nodded, but slowly. Her mind was fighting an uphill battle toward reason. She looked at him but saw the alleyway. She thought of London and which way they had walked. Not a direct path to the dress shop, but slightly out of the way. As if he had intended all along to head toward his home and not hers. She had been so absorbed in not-thinking that she hadn’t noticed that little thing.

She remembered his words, the repeated, “Don’t be afraid.” But she wasn’t really afraid. She was angry and frustrated. If he had understood her better, she probably wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to figure things out. But that discordant note had been enough.

She looked back at him, seeing his eyes widen in surprise. He knew she was figuring things out. He knew that she was not a stupid cull like any number of other women. Because at that moment, she realized he was not a bumbling mad toff. No, Mr. Samuel Morrison was bloody brilliant. His mind was ten times faster than the average man’s. His ability to sort through facts, to see what was around him, and to come to his own conclusions was beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

And what did this man do with all that brilliance? Played games with his nephew and seduced women. That’s what this particular moment was about—seducing her. He’d planned it, executed it, all while she was simply walking beside him on her way home. If she hadn’t stumbled, she might now be entering his bedroom.

She blinked, stunned by her own stupidity. Fortunately, the humiliation didn’t last long. The fury built in her blood, taking the time between one breath and the next to reach boiling.

“You bloody ass!” she bellowed. Then she slugged him as hard as she could right in his lying mouth.

Chapter 8

Samuel stumbled backward, his mind already working
furiously. He caught himself on the brick wall, his feet finding their purchase immediately. It took his mind, however, a few seconds more to reorient.

She had hit him. She had figured out that his last half hour had been a scheme to seduce her and reacted as a moral, upstanding woman ought. Or rather as a woman without brothers or protectors ought: she’d slugged him. Right hard, too! His jaw was numb where her fives had hit.

“Blimey, you’re brilliant,” he murmured.

She didn’t hear him. She’d already spun on her heel and was tromping angrily away. He caught up to her easily. His jaw was numb, not his feet. But she barely spared him a glance as she ground out her words.

“Don’t bother,” she practically growled. “If it’s an apology, I won’t believe it. If it’s a carefully contrived lie, I still won’t believe it.”

“And if I were to admit that I was a scheming cad?”

“I would hit you again.”

He nodded, agreement with both her judgment and her punishment. “You intrigue me more and more every minute,” he finally said.

“And you disgust me more and more,” she snapped.

Again he agreed. “That is because you are a discerning woman. Quite the most amazing one I’ve ever met.”

She glowered at him. “Do all the women in your life fall at your feet?”

He thought about it then finally nodded. “All except my brother’s wife. But she is also possessed of uncommon intelligence. Sadly, her moral pomposity detracts far too much to make her the least bit interesting.”

She didn’t answer except to increase her speed. Fortunately, his longer legs easily matched her pace.

“This changes nothing, you know,” he said congenially. “I still intend to win our wager.”

“Then go do it,” she groused. “Because I have grown heartily sick of you.”

He sighed. “Well, that is with uncommon speed. Usually it takes women a week or more to tire of me. But as I said, you are highly discerning. I find that most amazing.”

She slowed then and cocked her head a bit as she studied him. Bit by slow bit, he saw the anger fade from her eyes. Not completely. She had too much fury built up for it to fully disappear. But there was a lessening, and for that he was grateful. Meanwhile, she was speaking, and for the first time ever, he heard the weariness in her. As if the weight she bore had finally taken her to the last dram of her strength.

“I cannot decide if you are daft or brilliant, my savior or simply annoying. Either way, I am done in for today, Mr. Morrison. Pray just leave me alone.” And with that, she started walking away again. Her steps were steady, but heavy. Gone was the energy that had livened her aspect all day. And that saddened him as nothing else could.

He had hurt her, he realized with shock. Not the situation, not the bastard who had killed her parents and stolen her home. No, it had been he who had given her the last blow. The only reason she hadn’t crumpled here was that she had to keep moving, keep living, or she and her brother would starve.

And rather than ease her pain, he had added to it by playing at her life and toying with her affection. Ladies, as a rule, treated him as a plaything, and so he played right back. He solved their silly mysteries, delighted them in bed, and when they grew tired of him, he went on his merry way looking for another to interest him.

But Miss Shoemaker was not of his usual ilk. She was not a bored society woman, nor was she a silly maid like Jenny to be teased and flirted with, but never touched. She was somewhere in between, and her life was not a game. Her affections certainly weren’t. And he was the veriest cad for what he had done.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though she could not possibly have heard him. And worse, he knew she would not believe he truly felt remorse.

How odd that it was beyond his prodigious brain to determine what he could do to make amends. All he could do was follow along behind her, making sure she did not come to harm on the walk back to the dress shop. He didn’t speak to her. He could tell that it would be more of a burden to her. So he stepped along behind her, resolved not to speak, not to seduce, but simply to give her exactly what she wanted: her home and her livelihood back.

So he set his mind to that difficult task. He already knew the steps he needed to take, but it entertained his mind to guess at what the results would be based on a variety of possibilities. Sadly, that took only a part of his attention. The rest remained fixed upon the shift of Miss Shoemaker’s bottom as she walked, the determined tilt to her pert chin, and the tight ripple of her shoulders.

Quite an impressive woman, he decided as he watched her walk. But where was all that anger from? He speculated on a number of possibilities, but mostly he thought of the many ways to release her tension. Pleasurable ways. With him. In bed.

And so passed a rather pleasant half hour as they made it to the dress shop.

When they finally arrived, Miss Shoemaker stopped at the door. She leveled a long, heavy stare at him that made him decidedly uncomfortable. His mother used to look at him that way sometimes, and it never failed to make him feel guilty. Usually because he
was
guilty of something.

“Go and win our wager, Mr. Morrison. I am ho—” Her voice broke and he knew she had been about to say “home.” But of course, this shouldn’t be her home. Her real home was currently being occupied by that ass Cordwain.

“Yes,” he interposed smoothly. “We have arrived, but please allow me to—”

His next words were lost as the door was abruptly pulled open. He should have seen it coming. By God, he should have heard the footsteps if not the twist of the doorknob, but his mind had been on Miss Shoemaker. Never had a woman so absorbed his senses as to obliterate all else. So he was caught unawares as Penny started to fall backward. Fortunately a rather large young lady was rushing out just as Penny was falling in. The two collided in an embrace that was startling for everyone except the virago who had hauled the door open.

“Oh, goodness, Penny. I have just heard. Of all the dastardly things! I swear I have never heard the like. Oh, Penny!”

Penny recovered easily, returning the embrace with a soft sob as she twisted to press her face in the girl’s shoulder. Samuel watched, the feeling of being unneeded growing inside. This was a female moment, one he usually shunned as being frivolous. But he couldn’t force himself to leave Miss Shoemaker’s side. Not until he was assured that she wanted this girl’s attention.

It was a silly thought. From the way Penny was gripping the girl, he knew that they were friends. But he allowed himself the lie as sometimes even the best of friends could be an annoyance. He would not allow anyone to bother Penny more this day.

Meanwhile, the girl was still hugging and talking all at once. “Never you fear, Penny. You shall have work and money aplenty. I have seen to it.”

Penny drew back, a frown on her face and her eyelashes spiked from tears. “What?”

“Why, my wedding, of course. I have just doubled the size of my bridesmaids and I have insisted that they all come here for their clothing and their shoes. And my mother and Anthony’s mother, too. Plus all the aunts and cousins. I swear! And you shall be my maid of honor. Say you will, oh please, say yes.”

Penny stared, her mind obviously overcome. “But, Francine—”

“You have become a dear friend over these last few weeks. Please, will you stand with me?”

Penny blinked and Samuel watched with surprise as a myriad of emotions slid across her features. He cataloged at least surprise, delight, confusion, and worry. But at the end, she landed upon a quiet kind of pleasure. “It would be my honor, Francine. Thank you.” The words were heartfelt. Even standing to the side, Samuel could hear the gratitude in her voice. And then she took a deep breath, exhaled as if she were drawing her focus in, and spoke. “How many are in the wedding party, Francine? How many ladies need shoes? Your wedding is just a few weeks away.”

Samuel groaned inwardly. He could see it as clearly as he saw the rubbish on the side of the street and the soft fold of the excellent-quality wool that made up this Francine’s dress. Penny was pleased at the honor, but shuddering under the weight of the work. So many shoes in so short a time. It would help her financially, but the work…

Samuel shook his head, speaking clearly and firmly though he had no right to do so. “Not today, Miss Shoemaker. Not today.”

Both women turned to stare at him, their mouths opened in shock at his audacity. But it was the bride-to-be who recovered first.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” The words were delivered as tartly as any duchess might address an encroaching mushroom. In fact, if he had to guess, he would say that she had learned just that tone from Penny.

“Oh,” said Penny with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry, Francine. This is—”

Samuel raised his hand to cut her off. Then he said the eight words that had never passed his lips before. “I am not of any significance at all.” There it was, his secret fear spoken aloud. Sadly, it had no impact whatsoever. Francine drew breath to speak, but he rushed on, reaching for his wall of words to hold her off. “Miss Shoemaker is exhausted. And whereas I am sure that she is enormously grateful for the position in your wedding as well as the additional shoe work, it cannot be addressed today.”

At that point, Penny drew breath, no doubt to attack him for daring to interfere with her business choices. Again, she was quite right in her outrage, but he prevented it while continuing his wall of words.

“Furthermore, this is not something that should be addressed in the doorway. The air is growing chill. Miss Shoemaker should be inside by a fire, her brother playing at her feet and a lavender compress on her eyes. It must be lavender, mind, and if you have not got any, then someone should send round for it. I believe there is a shop not more than two blocks away that should have an adequate supply at an acceptable price.”