The story Odessarelated was shocking to be sure, but Jordan sensed she’d tempered the most horrible details for his sensibilities. He’d learned quite a lot about Odessa Whitehall during this carriage ride, not the least of which was she possessed an uninhibited, passionate nature. Very few virgins requested their maidenhead be taken in a moving carriage.
Odessa wasn’t avoiding marriage, exactly. She had been willing to compromise herself with Phillips, after all. But marriage to a man Angus Whitehall chose, all of whom were exclusively titled, snobbish and entitled,thatwas what Odessa didn’t want. A gentleman from the echelons of the very society who had demeaned Odessa’s origins her entire life. Why on earth would she want to embrace a lifetime of mockery, disdain and being looked down upon? Wed to a gentleman who would always think her beneath him?
Not to mention this titled lord’s family who wouldneveraccept her.
Yet Whitehall hadn’t shown an ounce of concern for what such a marriage would do to her. All he wanted was a title.
A wave of protectiveness for Odessa overtook him and Jordan pulled her more securely to his side.
She paused in her story and smiled up at him.
Odessa probably didn’t see her motivations clearly, but he did. Jordan brawled. Fought with his fists. Whenever he was decried for being uncivilized, Jordan became that much more savage, flouting convention with a flip of his wrist. Brawling was a disguise of sorts, like Odessa’s onions and padding. A way of rejecting those who were unkind first by becoming what they claimed you to be.
As a defense against the world, it was a good one.
He’d used it for years.
Jordan pressed a kiss to the top of Odessa’s head while she gleefully detailed how the baker arranged the limbs of his wife into a pie. Incredibly distasteful. But he didn’t mind her eccentricity. Or her.
Which made everything that much more complicated.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Iknew youwould enjoy Gunter’s with me.” Jordan watched the movement of Odessa’s mouth as she licked the spoon clean. She’d eaten her iceandhis. Also, a tart filled with cream, which Jordan had sternly questioned the poor waiter to death over the possibility of strawberries.
The lad assured him the tart contained only cream and cinnamon.
“The loss of virtue stimulates the appetite.” Odessa’s expectations of marital duties and a wedding night hadn’t been lofty, not when glimpsed through say…Malfrey. Captain Phillips had given her some hope, but after her recent experience with Jordan, Odessa thought she might have been disappointed. Losing her virginity in a moving carriage had been nothing short of magnificent. Odessa hadn’t a hint of embarrassment over doing so. If she could, she would relive the entire event again.
Jordan gave her a half-smile. “Imagine how much you’d eat after an entire day at my mercy.” His gaze dropped to the tops of her breasts, lingering long enough for her cheeks to bloom with warmth. “I must put my foot down, though, and not allow onions of any sort.”
Odessa drew in a shaky breath. Marriage to Emerson wouldn’t be terrible.
“I’ll put the ice in my mouth and then kiss you.” Pointedly, he looked at her lap. “Where I kissed you today.”
Her heart, which had recently restarted its normal rhythm, took to beating like a drum. “That sounds…intriguing, my lord. I’ll allow it.”
Dark curls spilled over Emerson’s forehead as he laughed, showing off the line of his throat and the tiny red spot beneath his ear where Odessa had bit him in the throes of passion. So beautiful, it hurt to look at him. If it hadn’t been for a dismal reputation and whatever Papa had done—
Odessa firmly pushed that thought aside.Not today.
Emerson would have had his pick of any number of lovely, wealthy young ladies, none of whom would have given a fig for his reduced circumstances. He certainly wouldn’t have looked in Odessa’s direction.
The thought pressed against her chest.
“I would venture that you will allow a great deal, Odessa.” Heat flared in his eyes as he looked at her. “If I insist upon it. Which I will. I promise you will enjoy every moment.”
Purposefully, she ran her tongue over the edge of her spoon. Jordan’s obvious desire for her gave Odessa a heady sensation. Only her cousin, Hayden, had ever found her acceptable.
“I’ve no doubt, my lord.” She hesitated before placing her spoon down, wondering how much she should say. She wanted him to understand, a little.
“My mother was the daughter of a viscount. She was shunned by her family after wedding my father, even though I’m told her family insisted on the match. As a result,” she said carefully, “I am considered beneath them all. The only reason I was at Lady Curchon’s is because she was my mother’s cousin and the event was one that no one of great importance had been invited to. She doesn’t speak of our relationship. Lady Curchon is the Duke of Ware’s aunt through marriage, in case you were wondering.
“I was curious as to how you were related to a duke.”
“Distantly, my lord. And not by blood. I am tolerated, nothing more. My father not at all. Hayden is my dearest friend, the only one I possess. He has more eccentric tastes than I with his love ofinsecta. I tell you all of this because I have little desire to be part of a world that treated my mother so terribly. My grandmother was particularly horrible to her.”
“And you. Your treatment at their hands has not been kind.” Jordan nodded. “Did you deliberately relate the tale of the baker to your grandmother?”
