“I see. I will let my harem know that they need not worry about a possible usurper in their midst.”
“It’s not amusing.”
“No, definitely not.”
The rippling bubbled up and he laughed out loud. She stopped, hands on her hips, and glared at him—her expression shifting from horrified to reluctantly amused. Her eyes swung to his left and her glare intensified again. He turned to see a young woman looking up at him, mouth parted. His laughter dried up as quickly as it had come. He tipped his head and started walking again, leaving Marietta to catch up.
It was a minute before he noticed her huffing. He slowed his pace. She never complained about where they walked or the pace at which they did so. He knew she refrained from commenting on purpose—to prove something. And it worked. It explained more than one thing about her character, and none of those things were disappointing.
“So what did you do for Oscar?”
He stayed silent for a minute, trying to discover a way around the question. He could simply ignore it, but found needling her the more appealing option.
Why he wanted to spar with her was another puzzle. He usually wasn’t so abrasive, unless the situation called for that response. But then he rarely took cases from upper class women. He hated them so fiercely that it wasn’t worth the fortune they could pay, or the contacts he could make.
She continued, taking six steps to his five, even with her long legs. “Did he recently get into a scrape with the watch?”
“What makes you think Oscar needs to avoid the law enforcement? He works in a prison.” Either a change of topic or a way to get under her skin was needed.
She shrugged. “Just trying to prod you to talk.”
“And what makes you think I helped Oscar recently?”
“Well, he still owes you tasks,” she said as if it were the most apparent thing.
He withheld a smile. Perfect. “Do you think I need to go into Cold Bath Fields every day? Having a large array of options is what makes connections worthwhile. Some favors don’t come due for years.”
She was suddenly no longer at his side. He kept the smile from his face again with effort, and turned to see her stopped dead on the walk.
“Years?” Her voice sounded as though someone had a grip around her throat. “Are you saying that I might be beholden to you foryears?”
“Of course. Did you think it would only be a few weeks and you would be rid of me?”
The grip seemed to tighten as unintelligible sounds gurgled from her throat.
He closed the distance between them and leaned down, pleased to see the glaze in her eyes as he paused just an inch too close. Close enough to increase the movement of her chest, to make the pulse at her neck throb.
“No, Marietta. No, no, no,” he whispered as he stepped forward another inch, so their toes were brushing. “You will be serving me for a long time to come. But don’t worry, I’ll have you trained in no time.”
He touched her wrist and leaned closer still, concentrating on the throb, watching it jump even more. “I’ll save you a prime spot in my harem. Those three nights of sin might take a verylongtime to complete.”
He heard her breath catch, saw the way her throat trembled and her lips parted. The reactions drew him closer. He wanted to see what it would take for her to relinquish all control to him. Not that he would allow anything else. A woman ceding control was an absolute, and had been since he was sixteen.
He let the dark cloud envelop him at the unwanted thoughts of his past and twisted them to seduction. He lowered his head, his lips a scant breath away, making her pulse race further just by his proximity and the thoughts of whatcouldhappen. How he could kiss her. How he could stroke her. How he could do things with his fingers that would make her forget her own name.
Her head tipped back, just an inch.
He could play women like a violin humming a languid lullaby or a furious scherzo. It was his most honed and most hated talent. Most women were easy, needing nothing more than his looks to lure them in. Others required compliments or flattery. Simple as well. The real challenge lay with the ones who required a specific tuning. The turn of a knob, the pluck of the right string, the correct rhythm of the bow.
What would it take for Marietta? A simple kiss? A caress? No. He had a feeling that while she could be lured with the simple things, getting her,reallygetting her under his control would be a challenge.
He stepped away from her, the street and homes coming back into view. The bustle of the traffic—carriage wheels, horse hooves, shouts and curses—mingling with the clop of the pedestrians as they walked past. He saw the knowledge seep into her eyes, the rose creep up her long white throat and into her cheeks. They were in the middle of a crowded neighborhood during one of the high times of the day, and she had completely forgotten where she was.
At sixteen he had vowed to always be in control. It had taken two years, but he’d never failed since.
Challenge or not, she was within his grasp.
The barrister’s office was located in a ramshackle neighborhood near the south docks.
