This was the moment, he realized. That same swelling of feeling he’d had as a boy watching his father and mother rose to the surface now, twice as consuming, ten times, a hundred.
Love.
He was not like his fellow peers, believing love a lie and affection a waste. He didn’t balk at the revelation or hide. His flaws and darkness were no mystery to him. Nor was he mindless or unaware. Just as God was real, that fickle emotion too had turned its attention to him, unworthy though he was.
He leaned his forehead down to hers and didn’t bother tempering the awe in his voice. “Amazing.”
That smile, so rare and mesmerizing, surfaced. “We aim to please.”
He didn’t take the bait. She was a warrior. He should’ve suspected the second after a soul-shattering coupling, her impenetrable mask would fall back into place, the real one nothing so delicate and inviting as the white feathers currently adorning her face.
He traced her cheek with his finger, and something tensed in his chest when she closed her eyes and bit her lip. Even now, she responded to him.
He couldn’t let her go. Fate, that miserable and miraculous mistress, had offered a sliver of mercy for him to find her again.
She eased out of his arms, righting her skirt, and pulling her sleeves up over her shoulders. “If you approve of our services, Madam will contact you when your paperwork is filed.” Her gaze didn’t meet his. “I’ll make a note you are clear of... disease.”
He wouldn’t tolerate the shame in her voice. “You have a filthy mouth, Miss Forthright, and a terrible poker face.”
She froze, her gaze darting back and forth as if she could catch a lie in the corners of her eyes. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Her hand shook as it grasped for the door handle behind her. “I’ve other clients to service, sir, so if you wouldn’t mind—”
“I was your first.” He didn’t make a habit of deflowering virgins. He’d picked none in his decade of debauchery, but he wasn’t a fool. Her gasp of pain had said enough without the blood that stained her thighs and his flagging arousal.
The knowledge of being her first, her only, eased the ragged edges of jealousy he’d experienced upon discovering her here. But that demanded the question yet again: Whywasshe here?
Her eyes widened. “You can tell?”
“A demirep doesn’t call out a man’s name in the heat of the moment. Risk of using the wrong one and all.”
Her expression hardened, the coy dove driven away by the hawk. “Now that that unpleasant encounter is over, I suppose the others will be more enjoyable.”
It was a lie. However she’d found her way of employment to the Prodding Pony, she was no painted lady. Still... “Others.”
He gripped her arms and held her against the wood as his mouth sought out hers. He teased and nipped until they wereonce again gasping. Dragging a hand down her backside, when her lips opened in a moan, he said against her lips, “What did I say about that mouth?”
She bit her lower lip again, but the heat in her eyes cooled, assessed, knowing he’d see through another lie. “You knew the whole time?”
“I stayedbecauseI knew.”
Her gaze shot to his. “Why?”
He lifted her chin with his knuckles and let his honesty bring his feelings into the open. “I came here, of all places, to forget you. After last night, I swore I wouldn’t seek you out. I’d let you live your life.” He grinned. “But then you walked through the door, and I knew I couldn’t walk away this time.”
He swore her breathing hitched, but then her eyes narrowed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
The doubt in her gaze, the challenge in her voice... He wouldn’t back down. As a lad, he’d always pushed himself to the point of torn knickers and broken bones if it would keep his ego from a similar break. The need to win rose to the surface now, past sins and future damnation consequences for another day. He’d promised to never play the hero, never sully his good father’s name, but there was no fear of pretending with her.
Miss Forthright saw him for who and what he was and was not impressed. But she’d responded like a siren caught in her own trap: passionate, and angry, and perfect.
He grabbed her chin and watched those brown eyes flicker with a spark of fire.
“I’ll make you a deal, my dear.” He licked at her lips until her mouth parted. When he pulled back, her hot gaze was on him, for him. He smirked. “You stop pretending this isn’t fate, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
*
His words hadbeen a promise. Even after they’d dressed and Camille had escorted him, blindfolded, to the Pony’s exit, those words, that look of predatory delight, kept flashing in her mind.
