Her sweet urgency made his stones swell with heat. His biceps flexed, his fist working like a piston. He gritted his teeth against a groan as he climaxed in hot bursts.
After cleaning himself up, he lay back against the pillows. He felt relaxed…but not replete. The respite of the physical release soon faded, and he was left again with his old friend Restlessness. Only this time, he wasn’t feeling on edge because of boredom—quite the opposite. His mind was absorbed by Maggie, who, he had to admit, held his attention as no woman ever had.
He’d first been drawn to her sexually. Their carnal encounter had heated his imagination for years, and their kiss two nights ago had demonstrated why. The sexual alchemy between them was more powerful than any he’d known…and he’d known a lot, in the biblical sense.
He’d had lovers aplenty, and back when he’d been flush, he’d kept his share of mistresses. In truth, a paid arrangement had suited him well. He believed in hiring experts for the job: professionals who understood that there were to be no messy emotions involved. If a paramour hinted that she wanted more from him, she was served hercongé, along with a generous parting gift.
He didn’t have many principles, but he believed in honesty: he never promised anything he couldn’t give. A woman who expected him to be her champion, her hero, or, God forbid, her love was destined for disappointment.
He’d failed to protect the ones he’d loved; he’d been failed by those he’d counted upon. Love created expectations that always led to pain and disillusionment, and he wanted no part of it.
None of his former lovers had complained that he gave only a part of himself. They’d been happy to share his bed and be seen on his arm. His popularity with the gentler sex had fed into theton’s image of him; scandal sheets and wags had extolled the latest exploits of “Ransom the Rake,” endowing him with prodigious stamina and an unattainable heart.
The fact that they’d glorified his casual dealings with women had amused him.
His interest in Maggie was different, however. He’d first been drawn to her sexually, yes, but now he found himself fascinated not only by her physical charms, but by…her. The surprising edges to her personality. Whereas he’d been attracted to the old Maggie’s shy sweetness, he was intrigued by the new Maggie’s sharp tongue and prim and proper manner.
He wanted to know why she dressed and acted like a nun. Why she held such a grudge against him when he’d not done her any harm—and, make no mistake, hewasrelieved that he hadn’t gotten her with child. He didn’t need that sin to join all his others. For all his faults, he believed in taking responsibility when due, as any man who called himself a gentleman should. She’d accused him of not respecting her when that was untrue.
For devil’s sake, he trusted her enough to hire her. Having interviewed some of her competitors, he’d concluded that Maggie stood head and shoulders above the rest. Mr. Shelley, the shop owner in Axmouth, had said that she had an integrity uncommon in the business.
Rhys admitted to himself that his interest in Maggie was more than professional. He also wanted to explore the sexual attraction between them. The timing was less than ideal. It was, in truth, terrible: his rational mind told him Maggie Foley was a distraction he didn’t need.
His cock wholeheartedly disagreed.
A compromise was possible, he reasoned. As long as he was clear about what he was offering her—the pleasure of the moment, no strings or promises—why couldn’t they enjoy a liaison? They’d done so with great success in the past.
Clearly, it wouldn’t be easy convincing her to fall into bed with him again.
The words from his uncle’s letter came back to him.Nothing worth having in life comes easily.Seducing a woman probably wasn’t what the old boy was referring to…but Maggie was definitely worth having.
Thinking and releasing his seed were taking their toll. Rhys’s eyelids began to drift downward. As he sank into sleep, his dreams were of her.
7
Maggie’s templesthrobbed in rhythm to the droning tones of her prized client, Mr. Nigel Pickering-Parks. He was short and portly, facts that his bright tangerine waistcoat did little to conceal. Although Maggie was no arbiter of fashion, his tailor clearly wasn’t either, for the rest of him was garbed in an orange-and-brown striped worsted to match the waistcoat. It looked as if autumn had vomited upon him.
Perspiration glistened along Pickering-Parks’s thinning hairline, and he mopped his brow repeatedly with a handkerchief. He’d lumbered into Foley’s a quarter hour ago; it felt as if he’d been there forever. She’d tried to steer him toward the issue of the commission he’d promised her, but, like a mule, he plodded along at his own pace. There was nothing she could do but follow.
Her stomach growled; knowing the ordeal that lay ahead with Pickering-Parks, she’d been too nervous to eat breakfast. She snuck a glance at the long case clock in the corner. It was half-past noon; Hypatia had gone to fetch Glory from the schoolhouse, and the two would soon be returning to the shop.
At Maggie’s insistence, Glory had apologized to Mr. Snelling for taking his wig, and as punishment, taken on extra chores at home. To reward the girl’s compliance, Maggie had promised to take her to the market today. Since Paul’s death, she’d been preoccupied by the demands of the business, and she looked forward to spending a few carefree hours with her daughter.
She’d done the right thing to protect Glory from Rhys Jones. If only she’d done a better job of protecting herself…the memory of his kiss washed through her, and she wanted to kick herself for being so stupid. For acting like the trollop she’d been all those years ago.
“I say, are you listening to me?”
The annoyed expression on Nigel Pickering-Parks’s chubby face snapped her back to reality.
“Of course, sir,” she said hastily. “You were, um, talking about a set of fossils?”
A good guess since he never talked about anything but old bones.
“Indeed.” He sniffed. “As I was saying, several years ago, a magnificent set of fossils was stolen from under my nose. An ichthyosaurus. A complete set, no less. A jewel of a find, sirrah, and it slipped through my fingers. The devastation I suffered should come as no surprise.”
It did come as no surprise for he’d told this tale during every single visit. Atleastonce.
Maggie suppressed her impatience. “I am sorry to hear of your loss,” she said as gravely as if he’d lost his kin. “But rest assured you’ll be in excellent hands when you commission Foley’s to do an expedition for you. I personally know of a local site that has yielded several outstanding specimens—”
