Ariel didn’t see Justin all of that day or the next. She knew he was avoiding her, but after what had last transpired between them, she was afraid to seek him out. Time and again, she wondered where he had been during the days he had been gone, and an image of the two garish women kept creeping into her mind.
“A man has needs,” Phillip had said. If that were so, the earl must have needs as well. Ariel remembered the night they had worked together in his room at the King’s Way Inn. A tremor ran through her at the memory of his kiss, a mixture of hunger and longing that had drawn her to him and frightened her at the same time.
She closed her eyes against a vision of Justin lying next to the brassy blonde. She tried to imagine him kissing the toothy redhead and knew instinctively that whatever woman the earl took to his bed would be unlike either one of those women. Whoever it was would be beautiful and desirable, and certain it was so, nausea rolled in the pit of her stomach.
She didn’t want to think of the earl with another woman. She didn’t want to imagine him kissing her, making love to her. And being the forthright person she was, she had to ask herself why.
She tried to tell herself it was simply a matter of pride. He had told her that she was the woman he wanted, as if no other woman would do. If he truly meant what he’d said—
If he truly meant what he’d said, would it mean that he cared for her in some way? Would it mean that she was special, different from the other women he had known?
And even if that was so, what did it matter?
But deep in her heart where she didn’t want to look, she knew that it did matter. It mattered very much.
Ariel sighed as she finished dressing, then fled Silvie’s morning chatter and started down the stairs, heading for the breakfast parlor. She wasn’t really hungry, but she knew she should eat. She had barely touched food since the night she had last seen the earl.
Halfway down the wide stone staircase, she paused. Barbara Townsend waited at the bottom, wearing her usual condescending expression. Ariel’s stomach rolled and any thought of food instantly fled. She forced herself to continue, then stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Lady Haywood.” Sinking into a very proper curtsy, she lowered her lashes to cover her turbulent thoughts.
“It appears my brother wishes to see you. I told him I would give you the message.”
Ariel hesitantly lifted her gaze. “D-do you know what he wants?” The minute the words left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t said them. It was a stupid question. Justin never told his sister anything, and he certainly wouldn’t discuss anything pertaining to her.
Barbara flashed a vicious smile. “If my brother is anything like our dear departed father, he has probably grown tired of your somewhat dubious charms by now.” The ruby lips curled. “Never fear, however. I’m sure he’ll be generous in his settlement. It isn’t in the Greville tradition to leave a city full of disgruntled whores.”
“I told you—I’m not his whore.”
Barbara arched a perfect black eyebrow. “No? Well, then perhaps that is what he wishes to discuss. If he hasn’t already had you, he must be quite determined to do so. Whatever it is, you will find him in his study.” Barbara left with a swish of her aqua silk skirts, continuing her journey down the hall.
Ariel drew in a shaky breath, preparing herself to face the man who had, little by little, become so much a part of her life. She didn’t know exactly how or when it had happened, didn’t realize it actually had until the night he didn’t come home. She hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t been able to eat. Worry for him had been a gnawing ache in her heart.
Ariel shivered as she moved down the hall. He’d been angry when he left the carriage. Was he mad enough to demand she fulfill her bargain? Part of her dreaded the upcoming encounter, yet another, secret part of her longed to see him, no matter what he wanted.
She knocked briefly on the door, and he gave her permission to enter. She walked into the study to find him standing behind his desk facing away from her, his hands clasped behind his back, staring at the rows of books but not really seeing them. He turned at her approach, and her heart squeezed hard at the weariness in his face.
He looked drawn and tired, and defeated in a way she had never seen him. Ariel started forward, a painful ache throbbing in her chest.
“Thank you for coming,” he said formally, indicating that she should take a seat in the chair across from him. She did so slowly, purposefully arranging her skirts around her, using the time to compose herself. As the seconds slipped past, she studied his expression, searching in vain for a clue to his thoughts.
Searching for something to say.
“I was … We were all of us concerned for you. I’m glad you got home safely.”
He looked up at her, those penetrating gray eyes dark and intense, the skin beneath them faintly smudged from lack of sleep. “Are you?”
“I…” She looked him straight in the face. “Yes. Very glad.”
He said nothing to that, but a flicker of some indefinable emotion appeared for an instant in his gaze. He seated himself behind the desk and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top. “I imagine you can guess why it is I wished to see you.”
She smoothed a fold of her skirt. “Actually, I’m not completely certain.”
“The days are slipping past. It is time we discussed our bargain.”
Her stomach clenched. Dear God, she was afraid of this. Ariel moistened her lips, remembering his sister’s words. “If he hasn’t already had you, he must be quite determined to do so.” “What … What about it?”
He straightened a bit, fixed his gaze on a spot on the wall above her head, studying it as if it were the most interesting object in the room. “It is obvious I was mistaken in believing that, in time, you might return the … affection … I feel for you. Since the notion of becoming my mistress is so repugnant—”
“That’s not so!” she broke in, appalled at the words he had chosen. “You mustn’t think it is you, my lord.”
“No? What is it, then?”
Ariel searched for the words, knowing how important this was. “It isn’t you,” she repeated. “Well, perhaps it was in the beginning. I didn’t know you then, and in truth, you can be quite intimidating.”
His mouth edged up, a rather fine mouth, she thought, remembering how much softer it felt than it looked.
“Yes … I’m certain I can be.”
“Now that I know you, I find you … Well, I think you are a very attractive man and any woman who wished to become your mistress would undoubtedly be pleased to be chosen.”
“But you are not that woman,” he said dryly.
“No. That is, I don’t wish to become any man’s mistress.”
“Not even Phillip Marlin’s?”
She flushed. Did he really think she would prefer Phillip to him? Because suddenly and very clearly she realized, if she were forced to choose, she would far rather be involved with the earl.
“What I am trying to say is that becoming a man’s mistress is something far different than I first understood. And in truth, when I made my bargain, I never really believed I would have to go through with it. I always thought … when the time actually came … I’d find another way to repay the money. Now that I’m older, I realize the sort of future a woman like that has. And I … Well, I despise the notion of selling my body like the lowliest strumpet.”
A muscle bunched in the earl’s lean cheek. “I never would have thought of you that way,” he said softly. When Ariel made no reply, he released a long, weary breath and came to his feet. “Whatever the case, it is no longer important. I told you once I wouldn’t force you into my bed. The other night I realized that by holding the cost of your education over your head, that is exactly what I was doing. As of this moment, Ariel Summers, your debt is completely and fully repaid.”
Her heart jerked. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. But her pulse was racing even faster and her mind was saying it was true. It’s over! I’m free! shouted a little voice inside her. As she had hoped from the beginning, the earl had released her from their bargain. She sat there shaking, heady with relief, wondering why she wasn’t smiling. Why she wasn’t laughing with joyous abandon.
“I’ll find a place for you to live,” he was saying. “Arrange for a monthly stipend to be paid—”
“No.” The word came out of its own accord, but once it was said, she recognized the rightness of it.
The earl’s head came up. “What?”
“I said no. I won’t accept any more of your charity.”
One of those slashing black brows arched up. “You won’t accept my charity? You have no family, no money, no one else to turn to. What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you I won’t take another farthing of your money—I’ve already taken more than enough. And I still wish to repay you.” She glanced at the stack of paperwork that habitually sat on his desk, ledgers and portfolios, some of them dog-eared from hours of use, all of them filled with endless pages of numbers. “I wish to work for you as I did before.”
For a moment he stood there utterly speechless. “That’s impossible,” he finally said.
“Why is it impossible? Between your duties as earl and keeping up with your investments, you work from dusk till dawn. You said yourself you hated doing the numbers. Let me do them for you.”
“Respectable women don’t do that sort of work.”
“Respectable women don’t make the sort of bargain I made.”
He sank heavily down in his chair. “Where would you live?”
“Here, of course. There is plenty of room and I can pay my debt off faster if I don’t have to worry about spending money for rent and food. You have dozens of servants in the house. I could live on the third floor with them.”
Justin raked a hand through his hair, dislodging a few of the thick black strands. “This is insane.”
At last she felt like smiling. “You’ve given me innumerable gifts—my education, my speech, even the clothes I am wearing. I intend to repay you with the gift of my labor. What is insane about that?”
He glanced up, pinned her with his steady gaze. It occurred to her that tired or not, angry or not, he was still one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.
“There is still the problem of the lust I feel for you,” he said. “I want you, Ariel. That isn’t going to lessen as long as you remain here.”
Some little demon inside her reared its ugly head. “You can always go back to the woman you stayed with while you were away.”
“I wasn’t with a woman.”
“Of course it’s really none of my concern, but—”
“If you must know, I got reeling drunk and stayed that way for two straight days. I was drunk when I came home. Believe me, I paid for my folly.”
She had the good grace to flush. “I’m sorry. As I said, it is none of my concern.” But the demon was gleefully grinning, and Ariel was far more pleased than she should have been.
Justin rounded the desk and walked toward her, and Ariel stood up, too.
He stopped right in front of her. “All right … we’ll do it your way—on three conditions.”
She eyed him with a hint of suspicion. “What are they?”
“First, you remain in the bedchamber you currently occupy. We’ve both invested a great deal in turning you into a lady. I intend to see that you continue being treated as one.”
“I can hardly protest living well. What are the other two conditions?”
“While you’re here, we decide what to do about your future.”
“And?”
“And you stay away from Phillip Marlin.”
She couldn’t see Phillip for as long as she remained with the earl. Funny, giving him up wasn’t nearly so hard this time.
Ariel slowly smiled, feeling free for the first time in years. Free and in charge of her life. Whatever happened now, whatever future was in store for her, would be of her own choosing. “Agreed,” she said firmly. Then she grinned. “When do we start?”
* * *
In the smoking room of Brook’s Club, St. James’s, Clay Harcourt lounged in a comfortable brown leather chair across from his friend Justin Ross. In the past, Justin rarely came to the club. For the past two weeks, he had been there nearly every evening.
Clay took a slow draw on his cigar, tilted his head back, and allowed the smoke to float upward in lazy blue rings. “So … how’re things going with your newest employee?”
Justin glanced toward him, seemed to drag himself out of a fog. “I’m sorry. What did you say? My mind must have wandered.”
“So I see. I don’t suppose you were thinking about a woman? Perhaps a saucy little baggage with the smile of a saint and face of a silver-haired angel?”
Justin made a sound of disgust in his throat. “Unfortunately, she rarely leaves my thoughts these days. I almost wish my sister was still in residence. Barbara was a thorn in all of our sides, but at least she served as a sort of buffer. Without her and Thomas to intercede, it’s been bloody hell.”
Clay chuckled softly. Justin was often brooding and distant, but Clay had never seen him quite like this, not even in the days when he thought he was in love with Margaret Simmons. “Take heart, my friend. Her debt will be repaid in what … maybe another ten years?”
Justin cast a dark look his way. “I’m paying her a king’s ransom for the work she is doing, and I find your attempt at humor in light of the situation more than a little annoying.”
Clay bit back a smile. “Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t the least bit repentant. Justin needed his usually unflappable demeanor ruffled once in a while. And Clay was happy to be the man to do it.
He swirled the brandy in his snifter, inhaled the vaguely sweet scent. “Ariel was living in the house with you before your sister’s arrival. Why is it so much more difficult now?”
“Because ever since I told her she was free of her debt, she is different. Before she was always wary, afraid of what I might do. Now that I’ve released her from her pledge, she seems to feel differently about me.”
“Perhaps she trusts you. You could have demanded she fulfill the promise she made, but you didn’t. You did what you thought was right. That would surely inspire a certain amount of trust.”
“I suppose it would … if that had been the case. In truth, I was acting selfishly, merely salving my conscience. It was hardly a noble thing to do.”
Clay said nothing to that. Justin always rationalized his behavior in the harshest, most unpleasant terms, casting himself in the worst possible light. Clay knew exactly why his friend had done what he did—because he cared for the girl, because he admired and respected her—and there wasn’t a damned thing selfish about it.
Justin sighed. “The worst part is, the more she trusts me, the more open and guileless she is, the more I want her. My noble image is wearing extremely thin, I can tell you. Every time she smiles at me, I want to tear off her clothes, drag her down on the carpet, and ravish her sweet little body. I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”
Clay took a sip of his brandy. “If you want her so badly, you could always marry her.”
Beneath his dark skin, Justin actually blanched. “Marry her?”
“Why not? You’re a bachelor. Ariel’s of an age to wed. Of course there is always the chance, much as I hate to suggest it, that she has been scheming to leg-shackle you from the start.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m hardly in the marriage mart. Ariel is aware of that.”
“Well, you did say how clever she was. Your father was scarcely an easy mark, yet he managed to succumb to her wiles.” He grinned. “And she was only fourteen years old.”
Justin merely grunted. “Marriage is not a possibility.”
“Why not?”
“Because that kind of commitment ought to involve at least some measure of emotional attachment. All I feel for Ariel is a healthy dose of lust.”
Clay took a draw on his cigar, let the smoke drift up. He wasn’t about to argue, since it wouldn’t do a shilling’s worth of good. As far as Clay was concerned, his friend felt a good deal more than lust for Ariel Summers. Justin would never admit it, of course—not even to himself.
“Perhaps another trip to Madame Charbonnet’s,” Clay suggested, merely to test his theory. “The women there are beautiful and we both know how talented they are.”
Justin looked mildly repulsed. “I don’t think so. At least not at present.”
He didn’t want another woman. He wanted the willowy blonde. That he denied his feelings for Ariel came as no surprise to Clay. Between his father’s lack of attention, his mother’s abandonment, and Margaret Simmons’s betrayal, Justin had buried his feelings so deep even he couldn’t find them. On the rare occasion they surfaced, he convinced himself it was something different, something far more pragmatic than simple human emotion.
Clay took a sip of his brandy, not sure whether to feel sorry for his friend or amused. “Give it some time,” he said. “Things usually have a way of working out.”
Justin didn’t answer. Clay wondered how much longer his friend could go on like this before he snapped. It was only a matter of time, he guessed, before Justin’s sweet, trusting little angel found herself flat on her back in the Earl of Greville’s feather bed.
Then again, as Clay had said, perhaps that was exactly what the little schemer wanted.
* * *
October had arrived. Fall had descended, but Ariel scarcely noticed. This morning she hummed as she walked down the hall to the study, returning one of the ledgers she had carried up to her room last night. She was working hard every day and sometimes well into the evening, but she was amazed to discover she was actually enjoying herself.
It felt good to be doing something productive, using the knowledge she had studied so hard to gain. She wondered why other women hadn’t yet figured out that working didn’t have to be the drudgery men made it seem. If you were doing something you liked, it could actually be fun.
She came to the door of the study, turned the silver knob, and walked in without knocking. She shared the office with the earl now, he at his big desk, Ariel at a smaller desk on the opposite side of the room. Work came first for both of them; they were long past the formal stage.
Greville glanced up, muttered something to himself, then bent his dark head and went back to studying the portfolio that lay open in front of him.
Ariel paused for a moment just to look at him. He was dressed in a white lawn shirt and dark gray breeches, his burgundy tailcoat draped over the back of a nearby chair. His sleeves were rolled up above nicely muscled forearms darkened by a sprinkle of coarse black hair.
It was overcast outside, the weather damp and chilly, a thick layer of clouds blocking most of the sun. A lamp burned on his desk, casting shadows across his face, shading the hollows beneath his high cheekbones. His black hair, usually perfectly trimmed, had grown a little longer, curled against his snowy stock.
She wondered if it was as soft and silky as it looked, wondered if his neck was as muscular as his forearms, and a funny little flutter whirred in the pit of her stomach. Aghast at her train of thought, she tightened her hold on the heavy ledger and walked to the shelf behind his desk to put it away, careful to keep her eyes straight ahead and her thoughts on the work ahead.
Propping the book on the top shelf where it belonged, she tried to shove it into place, but as tall as she was, she couldn’t quite reach it. She heard his chair scraping back, felt him come to his feet right behind her.
“Here, let me help you.” He stood so close her back brushed his chest. She could feel the muscles bunching beneath his shirt as he slid the heavy volume back in place. The task was completed, but neither of them moved. A warm thread of heat spun through her. The clock on the mantel ticked steadily, matching the heavy thudding of her heart.
Slowly, as if he feared she might bolt, he lowered his hands and his long, elegant fingers settled lightly on her shoulders. He smelled faintly of ink and some subtle male scent that belonged solely to him. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, feel his warm breath on her cheek, moving tendrils of her hair.
“Ariel…” he whispered, his voice low and rough. The sound was a plea that went straight to her heart. She didn’t question what she should do, simply turned and looked up at him, the answer to his plea in her eyes.
He lightly touched her cheek. His thumb moved across her bottom lip and little shivers raced over her skin.
“Justin…” she whispered, just for the pleasure of saying his name.
His eyes held hers, penetrating eyes, eyes that held a thousand unspoken thoughts. “Ariel … sweet God, what you do to me.” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, framed her face between his hands. With a groan of defeat, he covered her mouth with his. The kiss was soft and deep. A saturating, alluring, penetrating kiss. A moist, drugging kiss that made her senses reel and seemed to have no end.
“I’ve tried,” he whispered softly, kissing the corners of her mouth, then brushing her lips again. “You’ll never know how hard I’ve tried.” Turning her head, he kissed her one way and then another, pressing deeper and deeper into her mouth, tasting her bottom lip, coaxing her to open for him. His tongue slid in like hot, wet silk, taking her deeply, claiming her in some way.
Ariel moaned and clung to him, her arms sliding up around his neck, her body swaying toward him. Liquid heat slid into her stomach. Her legs felt rubbery and numb. He had never made her feel like this—never. But she had been afraid of him before. She wasn’t afraid of him now.
Justin kissed her again. He shifted a little, and she felt his hands on the underside of her breasts, making the nipples grow hard. Over the fabric of her gown, those long, dark fingers curled around the fullness, gently cupping her, and a low sound came from his throat.
“Ariel…” he whispered, kneading the softness, teasing her nipples, sending little tongues of fire shooting out through her limbs. Ariel clung to him, warm shivers running across her flesh, the bottom dropping out of her stomach. She knew she had to stop him, but dear God, the pleasure was so sweet, the sensations so wondrous, her traitorous body refused to listen.
Instead, she found herself pressing closer against his chest, leaning into the thick, unmistakable ridge of his manhood. Justin kissed the side of her neck, took her mouth again, and Ariel whimpered. She was trembling now, her heart pounding raggedly. She felt him reach for the buttons at the back of her gown, pop the first one open, reach for the second.
“Justin…?” She barely whispered his name, yet the desperation was clear in her voice. If she didn’t stop him now, she would no longer want to.
A heavy shudder passed through him. For several long seconds, he stood immobile, his beautiful hands dormant as he fought to regain control. For an instant, she wished that she had kept silent, let him work his magic, seen how brightly the fires could burn. Ariel knew beyond doubt that disaster lay along that course.
He dragged in a shaky breath of air, his posture straightening, becoming almost rigid. Turning her gently, he fastened the buttons at the back of her gown.
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
An apology was hardly needed. She had wanted him to kiss her. She had wanted far more than that. But she could hardly say that to him.
“It wasn’t your fault. It just sort of … happened.”
Those intense gray eyes, usually so unreadable, flashed with some turbulent emotion. Then his mask fell back into place. “Considering what the consequences might have been, it had better not happen again. In fact, it would be wiser if we didn’t see each other for a while.” He moved away from her, carefully rolled down the sleeves of his shirt, and buttoned the cuffs. “In that regard, I have some business to attend to out of town. I’ll be gone for several weeks.”
Her heart slammed. “Several weeks?” She tried not to think how dismal the big, empty house would be without him. How badly she would miss him. “But you never said anything about leaving the city.”
Justin looked uncomfortable and she realized he had only just made the decision. He was leaving because of her, because of what had happened between them, a happenstance that was her fault perhaps more than his.
“I need to check on the progress they’re making on the textile mill. I’ll leave a list of things you can do while I’m away. I imagine you’ll get a good deal of work done with no one around to bother you.”
“Yes … I imagine I will.” But he was hardly a bother. In fact, she looked forward to their lively discussions. She enjoyed working with him, she had discovered, enjoyed learning things about business, about what made a good investment and what made a poor one, about which banks paid the highest interest and what sort of person made a good candidate for a loan.
She liked talking to him, liked just knowing he was somewhere in the house.
He strode over and snatched his coat up off the back of the chair, shrugged it onto his wide shoulders. “I’m going out for a while. I won’t be home until late.”
Ariel said nothing, just watched his long, graceful strides carry him out of the room. Lately he’d made a point of staying out late most evenings. He was trying to protect her, and perhaps himself, trying to keep her safe from the desire he felt for her.
For the first time since her arrival at his Brook Street mansion, Ariel realized that being protected from the earl was no longer what she wanted.