He trapped her chin and turned her head to face him. “There are some things I don’t play around with. Seeking vengeance on someone who harmed you would be one of them.”
Something must be very wrong with her. A man vowing to spill blood on her behalf shouldn’t turn her heart to jelly.
But it did.
She squeezed his hand. “Aside from the wrist, no one has hurt me. I have lived a very quiet, peaceful life these last six years.”
His muscles relaxed a little. “I don’t believe it. You and quiet don’t belong together in the same sentence.”
She shrugged. “Peaceful then.”
He rubbed his thumb back and forth on her collarbone. “And have you been lonely in this peaceful life?”
She raised her eyebrows. “John Chaucer, are you asking me about past lovers?”
He dragged his finger between her breasts. “I don’t have a right to know but tell me just the same.” He swallowed, looking like the answer meant something more than satisfying idle curiosity.
“There have been three men,” she said. She took a deep breath, unused to raw honesty. “But when I look at you, I can’t remember any of their faces.”
His finger paused before resuming its journey. “Four lovers and not yet four and twenty.” He shook his head, looking as sad as a hound dog. “I don’t know what is happening to women nowadays.”
She poked his stomach. “We’re taking what we want.” She poked again. “And you’re a fine one to talk. Colleen told me about the Venus club you belong to. How many women have you led from the path of righteousness at that particular den of iniquity?” And what would she have to do to get an invitation to the place?
He rolled on top of her. “Too many to count, I’m certain.” He kissed her eyes, her nose. “But for the life of me I can’t remember any of their faces, either.”
He settled so naturally into the cradle of her thighs it was like he was meant to be there. “John?” she asked between kisses. “Colleen also mentioned some work you do? For the government?” He would tell her about that mystery, and she would know. Know that he trusted her, even with his secrets.
And that she could trust him with hers.
“Hmm?” He licked up her neck. “She must mean my work in Parliament.” He skimmed a hand down her abdomen and zeroed in on her clit.
Her body responded even as her mind recognized it for the distraction tactic it was.
She didn’t know to what Colleen was referring, but it wasn’t to his duties in the House of Lords. The back of her throat burned. He still wanted walls between them? Didn’t want complete honesty? So be it. She would be more than happy to accommodate his wishes. She would find a way out of the box she was in all on her own. She’d save herself, the way she’d always done.
If she could only figure out how.
“I am an earl, you know.” John nipped at her bottom lip. “And I don’t think I’ve once heard you address me as ‘my lord.’” He tsked. “I propose a new game.”
“What’s that?” She infused her voice with a levity she didn’t feel. If all John had to offer was his body, she’d take it. She had nowhere else to be that night and no idea what she would do on the morrow. She had become an expert at living in the moment.
He flipped her to her stomach. “It’s a little one I like to call Master and Servant.” He rested his large palm on her arse. “And I do believe my servant has been a very naughty girl.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Netta took the waxed bag from the clerk, thanking him. She strode outside the confectionary shop, adjusting the brim of her bonnet to shade her face from the morning sun, and popped one of the Pomfret cakes into her mouth.
It’s tang of spicy goodness did little to lift her mood. She sighed. It was a sad day when her favorite treats didn’t make her happy.
“Why don’t we cut across the park?” John strolled up beside her, ignoring her start. He tipped the brim of his top hat up with the silver nob of his walking stick. “It will shorten our journey and get us away from the clatter of carriages.”
“You followed me again.” She shouldn’t be surprised. After his discovery of her acting career, he’d either accompanied her, followed her, or had Wilberforce do so each night she went to work. But today was Sunday and the show was an early one. She’d thought she’d slid out of his home unnoticed.
John rooted through the small bag in her hand and came out with a plump licorice button. “Did you take my pouch of coin again?”
“Did you leave it behind the stack of chemistry books on your desk for me to find again?” Dear, sweet, infuriating man. Giving her that small thrill of pilfering, even though they both knew he left it for her intentionally. Why couldn’t he also give her his trust?
She swallowed past the burn in the back of her throat. Damnation. If she couldn’t go forward with his scheme, and she didn’t tell him the truth about herself, she was going to have to leave. Her options were disappearing faster than the confections from her bag.
