In that room, while under her authority, Ralston experienced a taste of something he’d never known.
Liberation.
But it had also stirred a deep and undefinable frustration.
On the first night, he’d decided to go along with the woman’s instructions mostly out of curiosity.
But tonight…
There had been a distinct moment when he’d felt a pressure inside him. A winding and a clamoring. As if a desperate part ofhimself were being held back and if he just had the key to unlock the cage, something frightful and wonderful might be released.
He didn’t fully understand it.
But he wanted to.
He realized there was so much more…to experience, to feel, tobe…here in this room. The unusual dynamic between himself and the masked woman was revealing something to him and he sensed there was further revelations remaining just beyond his current reach.
But he suspected it would take more from him to attain it.
Clearly, his decision to give in to his desire to touch her had not been the correct choice. Though he’d reveled in the silken softness of her skin and the way she’d seemed to melt beneath his touch for just a moment, his boldness had brought a swift end to their evening and had taught him a valuable lesson.
If he were to get what he wanted—what he felt himself yearning for and striving for while under her command—he would have to possess better self-control and not give in to his lustful urgings to behave with her in the way he normally would with a lover.
No matter how difficult it would be.
He closed his eyes with a groan as he recalled with shocking clarity the feel of her velvet gloved fingers, soaked in wine, against his tongue. The texture and taste. Most astounding though, had been her eyes. When he’d looked up at her—with her fingers in his mouth and her wrist in his hand—he’d been astonished to meet a honey-brown gaze so deep and rich that it seemed to glow with amber warmth. There had been surprise in her shielded stare. Surprise and what he could only hope was a desire that matched his own.
Once he’d seen that, he hadn’t been able to keep from discovering more. He wanted to know the feel of her. The taste. Her slim leg had been smooth and warm beneath the glide ofhis palm. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the rough catch in her breath when she finally decided he’d taken too much liberty with his questing fingers. His heart had jolted when she’d so abruptly pulled back from him. He’d been so tempted to rise to his feet and lunge after her. Grasp her around the waist and pull her into his body so she couldn’t leave him there again. Wanting.Needing.
He’d been left to balance precariously on the edge of something he couldn’t quite define. More than simple sexual release, he felt he’d been denied something profound. Something dark and elemental inside him had been awakened. Something he was compelled to explore to the end.
An hour wasn’t enough. A hundred hours likely wouldn’t be satisfying.
But her words of warning and chastisement were sharp and clear.
If he wanted more of her, he’d have to obey.
She wasn’t finished with him yet.
To Ralston’s steadilyincreasing frustration, the next several days were filled with more and more family obligations and social events.
Jarret seemed determined to waste his life on wine, women, and gambling, leaving a trail of messes for Ralston to clean up from unpaid loans to the threat of scandal involving a rapacious widow who thought she might blackmail the idiot into marriage.
And there seemed no relief in sight from his duties as escort to three young women who each appeared set on doing anythingbutfinding a proper match. Lydia continued to make more and more ludicrous excuses to cry off from the endless parties she was expected to attend, prompting her overbearing mother tosend Ralston a scathing set down for failing in his responsibility. Of course, he didn’t appear to be failing enough for his critical aunt to step in and take over the matter. Then there was Bridget, who had more admirers than could fit into her sitting room each morning, but who refused to consider any one of them as more than a light flirtation.
His sister, however, was proving to be the most challenging. Though he was aware that she struggled with a severe shyness which often caused her extreme discomfort in social situations, he also knew that she was highly motivated to marry. One thing Eleanor had wanted since she was a child was a home of her own, so she could live how she wished without the constant pressure of being the illustrious Duke of Lindley’s daughter. Ralston could understand that desire well enough.
And yet, so far this season, his sister had seemed preoccupied and uninterested in the marriage mart. He suspected this shift in her had to do with the Viscount Waring—as much as he hated to acknowledge it. But whenever he asked Eleanor about the man, she brushed aside his queries and concerns.
Altogether, the season had been a wealth of endless frustration with no relief in sight. Each time he thought he might have an opportunity to return to the Lyon’s Den, something came up or the evening would go far too long into the night, leaving him exhausted and weary.
The only bit of distraction he’d managed to grasp were during the few times he spotted Miss Dickson at this event or that one. The woman was a curiosity. The way she’d spoken to him at the park—chastising him, giving him advise, teasing him—had been unprecedented. Only family had ever dared to speak to him that way.
From his casual observations, she seemed quite intent upon engaging in the marriage mart, but she did not spread her interests very wide. In fact, she only ever danced two or threetimes at each ball and was never seen in lengthy company of any one particular gentleman.
And then there was the night he’d spotted her at the theater. After the lights came up at the end of the performance, he’d spied her striding confidently through the milling crowd to a small door set beside the stage. Without a hint of hesitation, she’d stepped boldly through the door which surely led to the backstage area, where theater goers were rarely allowed. The only exception that he was aware of were given to the wealthy male patrons who went backstage to shower their actress paramours and mistresses with valuable gifts in exchange for their sensual talents.
Miss Dickson’s actions were odd, to say the least.
