The first part—once—would happen in two hours.
Chapter Fourteen
Pleasurable things.
Impolite things.
Unspeakable things.
To her. With her.
Those words haunted her as she’d held the envelope in her hands. Unopened, it held such promise and such danger. Did she need to know what her father would know? Would it be worth the personal cost of getting it fromhim?
The strange thing about this was that Clare did not for a moment believe she was in danger. And he’d been quite clear about what he expected from her. A transaction to benefit both of them. If she walked away with knowledge that made her position and leverage stronger with her father and his plans, all the better.
If her curiosity about the man and the pleasure he promised was satisfied, that could not be a bad thing. If he’d spoken the truth to her and would not lie, she would ask him one question before anything happened—if his answer was unsatisfactory, she would leave.
Did he plan to use this encounter against her?
If not, then she would accept his offer.
Clare followed his instructions and arrived at the private entrance of the hotel. In a dark gown, covered by a long cloak with a veiled hat, no one would notice or recognize her. A footman, a different one than the previous visit, opened the door as she climbed down from the carriage and waited as she walked past him. Then, leading the way, he guided her up the stairs, into the hallway and towards the door leading to the owner’s suite.
The retiring room was empty, and the footman led her to the next chamber. Then he backed out, closing the door behind himself. Clare searched around the room and found it also empty. Lifting the veil up and over her bonnet, she walked to the blazing fire burning in the hearth near the sitting area and allowed the heat from it to warm her.
Well, not warm so much as calm her. As she extended her gloved hands towards the flames, she saw them trembling in spite of the warmth.
“May I help you with your cloak, my lady?”
Iain stood just a short distance away from her and she’d never heard his approach. The flames threw shadows on his body and face as he moved closer and reached for the ties of her cloak. As he took hold of the laces, she placed her hands on his to stop him.
“Will you use this as leverage against me?”
Shock froze his features. He released the ties and dropped his hands.
“Nay, Clare.”
She stared at him, trying to discern if it was the truth.
“You are a widow beholden to no one and able to do as you please within the bounds of discretion, of course,” he said, not looking away. A wicked smile threatened but he controlled it. “I am unmarried, above the age of consent and free to engage in... activities with anyone I please. So, will you engage in activities of a private nature with me, Clare?”
He waited, not moving and barely breathing, for her reply. Her body reacted, her blood heated and the place between her legs ached and throbbed. She believed his words.
“Pleasurable things?” she whispered, tugging the laces loose. He reached over then and lifted the cloak away, tossing it on a chair.
“And impolite, too. Aye.”
He pulled on the ribbons holding her bonnet and veil in place and soon that followed the cloak. A tug or two on each glove removed them.
“Unspeakable things,” he promised in a deep voice that turned her insides to molten lava. “Take down your hair.” The command made her breasts swell and their tips tighten.
“Your choice?” she asked.
“Mine,” he growled.
His hands fisted and relaxed over and over, and she reached up to pull the pins holding her hair in Archer’s arrangement. With the last one removed, it fell around her and she shook her head a bit to loosen it. The growl this time had no form or words, but the sound of it made her body shudder with need.
Only then, waiting for him to lunge, did she see his own state of deshabille, for he wore a black silk banyan and trousers. No shirt. No neckcloth. No waistcoat. The black hair on his muscular chest was open to her view and Clare could not take her eyes from the rippling muscles of his stomach or his male nipples. His skin was darker, as though exposed to the sun for long periods of time. She reached out to test those beckoning curls and masculine form, but before she could, he took her hands in one of his and guided them inside the robe and lower still.
