Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) (28 page)

“Why do you think that I am not the same?” I shot back at her. “Why can’t you believe that I, too, crave only novelty?”

“Because you’re a woman, not a man,” she answered without hesitation. “Women tire of sensual amusement, which is why the Game is so perfect. A week’s adventure is sufficient for a woman. After that, we want more from life, and more from a man than his cock alone. You’ve been married. Surely you must know that.”

“I have been married, yes,” I said slowly. “And it is because of that that I want the same things that Savage does. I still do.”

I thought again of everything that Savage and I had done together. Yes, much of it had been erotic, dangerous, and dark, and I had loved every moment of that. But there had been much that wasn’t as well, quiet times when we hadn’t needed a single word to feel completely and perfectly at ease with each other. Either way, I’d often sensed we were perhaps the two best-matched and best-suited persons under Heaven: sensed it and fought it, because it could not be true.

Thinking this way, I couldn’t help but look back over to Savage now, standing in the shade of an oak tree waiting for his son to take his turn at the ice stand.

Savage stood with his weight on one leg, the other bent. His perfectly cut coat was open, and he’d hooked one thumb lightly in the watch pocket of his waistcoat. The sun through the leaves dappled his broad shoulders with light. His face was in profile below the sharp brim of his hat, a small smile on his face as he watched his son.

I’d often thought of Savage as some blatantly male jungle cat, all coiled power and muscular tension. Now that cat, though no less powerful, was relaxed, even content, as he watched his young son running towards him. I smiled, too, even though he wouldn’t see me, and something squeezed tight in my chest.

Because in part Laura was right: I did want one man. I wanted Savage, the one man in London I’d sworn to give up in three days.

“With your fortune and your impeccable reputation, Evelyn, you could have made the most brilliant match of the season,” Laura was saying, an unsettling counterpoint to my own thoughts. “You could have had your choice of titles. You might even have become a duchess. But now … what gentleman would wish Lord Savage’s castoff? You’ve been so public that it cannot be overlooked. What decent man would want his leavings? What—”

“Thank you, Lady Carleigh, but I have heard enough sermons for today,” I said curtly, unable to listen to her any longer. “I regret that my life is so distasteful to you.”

I turned away, back towards Savage, but she caught my arm, and reluctantly I looked back over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn,” she said, her cheeks pink. “I … I said too much, and went too far. My husband says it’s my greatest failing, for he must suffer its effects the most.”

She smiled brightly, trying to make a joke of what she’d said. I wasn’t willing to forgive her yet—probably because most of what she’d said had been painfully true.

“You were the one who introduced me to Savage,” I said. “Why did you do it if you believed him to be such a disreputable gentleman?”

Her smile faded, and she nervously twirled her parasol again, the white lace spinning behind her head.

“Because I thought you understood the rules,” she said. “I thought you both did. I never thought it would go this far. Savage himself has never dared continue the Game in London with any other woman.”

That was interesting. He’d told me I was the first, the only, woman to have been brought back to his house, but I hadn’t been sure I should believe it.

“Why is it so difficult to believe that we so enjoyed one another’s company that we decided to continue the Game?”

“Because it’s simply not
done
,” she said emphatically. “Not by Savage, or any other gentleman, either, and I … and I…”

She was looking past me, squinting a bit. I began to turn to see what had caught her attention, and she took my arm again to stop me.

“Do not look back, but there appears to be an odd sort of man watching us,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward. “Perhaps we should walk back to my carriage and my driver, and let Savage come to you there.”

“A thickset, menacing man in a homburg hat?” I asked.

Her eyes widened. “Yes,” she said. “Do you know him?”

“He’s one of the guards that Savage hired to watch over me,” I said with a careless little shrug. “He feels it’s necessary, and I agree.”

I didn’t want to tell her how I’d been nearly kidnapped or how Savage and I suspected Blackledge was behind it. Laura enjoyed her gossip, and I’d already given her enough fodder today.

Still, she looked at me curiously. “Savage hired a guard to protect you?”

“Two, actually,” I said. “I’m sure the other fellow’s about as well.”

She arched a single painted brow.

“How … protective of Savage,” she said. “And here I would have thought you’d require guards to protect yourself from him!”

I gasped, stunned by her audacity. “Laura, please. I thought I’d told you before that I’m not—”

“I know, darling, I know,” she said blithely, fluttering her fingers. “You’re not afraid of the man even though he may—
may
—have caused his wife’s death. But you will not listen, so I will not warn.”

“Thank you,” I said, not entirely mollified. I was tired of people warning me against Savage, especially Laura. Again, I began to turn away, and again, she stopped me.

“I know tomorrow you will go traipsing off to Court to be presented,” she said. “Will you have a seat in Lady Tremayne’s chariot to the Palace?”

I raised my chin. I know what she was really asking. She didn’t truly care about Lady Tremayne but was intensely curious as to whether I’d be joining Savage at the reception afterward.

I’d no intention of obliging Laura, not after all her so-called “warnings.”

“I will, yes,” I said evenly. “Her Ladyship is expecting me.”

“And afterward?” Laura asked. “There is the reception, of course, another tedious affair that Carleigh and I must also appear at for appearance’s sake. But there are also several private balls that Savage usually attends as well. I’m sure you’ve been invited to at least one or two of those yourself, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” I answered blandly. “But I have yet to decide what my plans shall be. It’s not my choice.”

She raised her painted brows. “Does Savage now rule your social calendar, too?”

I smiled with rare sweetness and shook my head. “It’s His Majesty himself has taken a particular interest in my presentation, and of course I must oblige his wishes for my plans after the ceremony. Good day, Laura.”

This time when I turned away, she didn’t try to follow or stop me, though I could have sworn I heard her sputtering with frustration behind me.

I headed back towards Savage and Lawton beneath the tree. They couldn’t see me as I came through the trees, yet I could observe them easily. They were standing slightly apart, together but not together, as they watched the parade of carriages and horses. Lawton’s face was stained by the cherry-colored syrup of the ice and Savage’s was carefully impassive, but at least he wasn’t berating his son for untidiness.

As I watched, Lawton laughed and pointed at a bustling stout man walking a half-dozen little dogs with curling tails, their leashes tangling together as they darted back and forth. I wasn’t surprised Lawton was entertained; the man looked very silly, herding his little pack of dogs, and I remembered how enthusiastically Lawton had described to me every dog, large and small, that he’d encountered over the last month. That made me smile, too, recalling our meal together.

But I was surprised by what happened next. Savage, too, looked in the direction that his son was pointing, and he laughed as well. Not an uproarious laugh—Savage never did that, especially not in public—but enough to make his face relax and his amusement show.

Slowly, gently, he rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. Startled, Lawton twisted around and looked up at his father, no doubt expecting another reprimand. When he saw Savage’s smile, he grinned, and that single quick shared moment was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever witnessed.

Then Lawton caught sight of me coming towards them and ran towards me. The moment was done, and when I glanced back to Savage his face had once again assumed its usual reserve.

“A man told Father and me that the puppet box is just beyond those trees, Mrs. Hart,” Lawton said eagerly. “We were waiting for you to come with us.”

“Have all the female topics been successfully exhausted?” Savage asked drily.

“Entirely,” I said, regretting that I’d interupted his time alone with Lawton. “It didn’t take long. Shall we go to puppets?”

With Lawton chattering at my side the three of us traipsed across the lawn to where the puppet box stood. With Savage’s permission Lawton took a seat among the other children towards the front while Savage and I stood apart, away from the others but still able to watch. The show was already under way, beginning with a raucous musical performance by a man with a banjo and a woman in a short dress covered with bells who sang to various puppets as they appeared, much to the shrieking delight of the young audience.

“I saw you with Lawton,” I said softly. “I’m glad of it, for both your sakes.”

“The boy has been on his best behavior today,” Savage said grudgingly. “I, however, have not.”

“No?” I asked, surprised.

“No,” he said, taking advantage of the noisy performance to stand more closely to me. “Do you know how hard it has been to be in your company and not touch you, Evelyn?

“Then touch me,” I said, shifting closer to him. “I promise you I won’t object.”

“You never do, do you?” he said. His hand was around my waist, pulling my hip against his, and then his fingers slipped lower, over my ass. “I’d kiss you, too, but I can’t reach you beneath that damnable hat.”

I smiled archly. “Try harder, Master.”

“A challenge, ma’am?” he said. He swept off his own hat and ducked beneath the brim of mine and kissed me, swiftly, surely, and enough to leave me breathless before he returned his hat to his head before anyone else watching the puppets took notice.

I grinned and touched my gloved fingers to my lips.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he said, his eyes shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. “I know you like the idea of being caught, but I never considered an audience of puppet voyeurs.”

“I never considered it, either,” I said, teasing. “Imagine the possibilities.”

“My dear, I have been imagining them all morning,” he said, his voice low and moody. “If we weren’t surrounded by children, I’d drag you into those bushes, toss up your skirts, and fuck you the way I want and the way you want. Don’t deny it, either. You know you want it, too. That kiss proved as much.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” I said breathlessly. My skirts had fluttered to one side in the breeze, conveniently covering his crotch. Behind their cover, I found the column of his cock beneath his trousers. He was already hard, and he sucked in his breath at my touch.

“Don’t, Evelyn,” he warned sharply, “else I’ll spend.”

Reluctantly I withdrew my hand.

“Poor Mr. Punch,” I teased. “All he wants is to come out and play with Miss Judy.”

Savage took a deep breath, and another. “You are trying me. My God,
puppets
. If Miss Judy isn’t careful, Mr. Punch will take her back into the bushes, children or no children.”

I glanced at Savage from beneath my lashes. “When we return to your house—”

“Don’t test me, Evelyn,” he growled. “If you push me too far, I could be capable of damned near anything.”

I smiled again, pretending to watch the puppets. I hadn’t lied to Lawton. I really never had seen a Punch-and-Judy show before, and I was stunned by how little there was to it. Mostly it seemed that the two puppets shrieked in high-pitched voices and then struck each other with wooden sticks. The more violent and shrill the puppets were, the more the audience loved it, and they weren’t entirely children, either.

My gaze kept returning to Punch’s long stick. It was made of wood, and its shape wasn’t that different from the paddle that Savage had used to punish me when I’d been on the swing. In fact, the longer I watched, the more convinced I became that Judy’s shrieks might be more of pleasure than outrage.

I glanced again at Savage, wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

“Perhaps it is just me,” I whispered, “but does it seem to you that Judy might have been a naughty Innocent in need of Master Punch’s correction?”

“I told you, Evelyn, do not begin,” Savage said, testy. “Our time together is precious to me. This is not how I had planned to pass this day with you, either.”

That sobered me. Was he thinking of how we’d only three days left as well?

“You’ve made Lawton happy,” I said, which was true. He was boisterously delighted with the puppets, roaring with laughter among the other children on the bench. “He’ll remember this day.”

Savage made a noncommittal growl. “What did Laura want from you?”

“Nothing of any note,” I said. “Nothing I haven’t heard from her before, either.”

His gaze slid back towards me. “No doubt she was offering advice to you about me.”

I nodded. “She likes to advise.”

“She always has,” he said. “It’s not one of her more attractive qualities.”

“She thinks it’s caring for her friends.” Without thinking I looked over my shoulder; the guard was there where I’d expected him to be, far enough away not to be noticed but close enough to be ready if needed. “She noticed the guard following me, too.”

“Of course she did,” Savage said. “I’m sure she had an explanation for his presence as well.”

I didn’t want to repeat her unkind comment. “It doesn’t really matter what she said.”

“But I can guess,” he said. “Most likely she said something about how you’d hired the guard to protect yourself against me. That was it, wasn’t it?”

I blushed, startled that his guess had been so accurate. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” he said, bitterness washing over him. “She’s not alone in her opinion, either. After Marianne’s death, there were many in London who decided I was the monster, the murderer of my own poor wife.”