But before he did pull her away, perhaps she needed a reminder of how generous he’d been to her when he ended their liaison. “The jewels suit you.” He traced the ruby and diamond necklace glittering around her slender neck, then ran a finger over the earrings dangling from her ears. “Not quite the thing for afternoon tea, but pretty all the same.”
Nothing made Lady Beaumont happier than jewels, and his parting gift to her was a handsome one. He’d chosen the deep red rubies because he thought they’d complement her dark coloring, but her pleasure in the gift had far more to do with the fact that every one of the fifteen rubies in the set was as big as the tip of his thumb, and each of them surrounded by a cluster of twelve diamonds.
“Yes. They’re lovely.” Lady Beaumont’s tongue darted out to lick her already slick lips. “Do you recall, Huntington, when you gave them to me? You said you wanted to see me draped in the red stones, and nothing else.”
He gave her a faint smile. “You were nothing if not obliging, my dear.”
“I could hardly refuse after receiving such a generous gift. But indeed, Huntington, you’re not the kind of man one disobeys, are you? Particularly when you’re intent on having your way. If I recall, you were intenton having your way quite often, and with the mildest provocation.” A throaty laugh followed this statement. “I’ve never know a more insatiable man. Not many women could satisfy you, either in frequency or tastes.”
She didn’t say Miss Somerset wouldn’t ever be able to satisfy him, but then she didn’t need to. Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she stroked her fingertips over his thighs. “You looked quite wild when you clasped the necklace around my neck. You were so savage, I was almost frightened of you.”
Or willing to pretend she was. “Oh, I doubt you’ve met the gentleman yet who could frighten you, my dear.”
“Ah, but if Iwereto be frightened of a gentleman, it would be you, my lord. You’re rather intense when you’re aroused.” Her voice dropped to a low, husky murmur. “Why, you stripped my gown from my back right there, and took me against my dressing table. Why, I had half a mind to run away to my bedchamber and bolt the door behind me, but then you like a bit of a chase, don’t you, Huntington?”
Her busy fingers went to the buttons of his falls. He didn’t want her anymore, but Finn was a man of strong urges, and his hard cock sprang readily enough from the crumpled fabric of his breeches. She made a low, approving sound in her throat, and lowered her head to his lap.
He’d never before denied himself the pleasure of her mouth, or her decadent, unapologetic debauchery, but dependence led to weakness, and Finn didn’t tolerate weakness.
Especially in himself.
Before her plump lips could close over his eager flesh, he tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled her back. “No, my lady. Not now, and not ever again.”
Their time together was over.
He set his breeches to rights, then rose from the bench and fetched his coat, which had fallen to the ground. “The jewels were a parting gift. But perhaps you’ve forgotten that?”
She rose to her feet and ran brisk hands over her skirts. Now her attempt to seduce him had failed, she dropped her game at once. Lady Beaumont was nothing if not practical. “Not at all.” She ran her fingers over the gems at her throat. “Such a generous gift, too, but then you always do things handsomely, don’t you?”
He did, because he was the Marquess of Huntington, and an honorable gentleman didn’t dismiss his mistress without a generous gift, no matter how troublesome she’d proved to be. “Always. You wouldn’t have had me otherwise.”
She didn’t bother to dispute this assertion. She looked him over as carefully as she had the jewels when he’d given them to her, and gave a regretful shake of her head. “Certainly not, but I don’t deny I’ve found other aspects of our arrangement nearly as rewarding as your gifts.”
He shrugged into his coat. “It was a satisfactory arrangement for both of us.”
“Satisfactory?” Her mouth turned down at his choice of words. “As I recall, Huntington, there were a number of times you appeared to find it a great deal more than satisfactory.”
Finn regarded for her a moment, considering. He hadn’t ever found it more than satisfactory, but he might have said he’d miss her, just to soothe any hurt feelings on her part. Perhaps he even would miss her, for a short while.
But he didn’t say it.
It was past time for him to turn his attention to the suitable young lady he’d chosen as his bride. He’d transform Miss Somerset into a marchioness, get a few heirs on her, and raise a family that would do honor to his name.
And Lady Beaumont would fade from his mind sooner rather than later.
She’d been watching him with a sulky expression, and now her eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Miss Somerset is beautiful, isn’t she? So innocent, with those wide blue eyes, and such beautiful fair hair. Angelic, rather like a child. I wonder what she’d think if she knew what you hide under those gentlemanly manners of yours? Those dark proclivities, Huntington, that need for control—however will you explain it to an innocent like your betrothed?”
“What makes you think I’ll explain it at all?” He’d settled for Miss Somerset for one reason—nothing about her brought out the savagery he hid under his gentlemanly veneer. She was sweet, dull, and predictable, and he’d never think to expose her to his darker desires. Once he no longer indulged them, they’d cease to trouble him.
Eventually.
Lady Beaumont drew closer, sensing an advantage. “Oh, you won’t have a choice. You’re a man of strong appetites. I’ll grant you have remarkable control, Huntington, and manage to suppress them a good deal of the time, but you can’t do so forever, and when you do let yourself go, you’re quite…demanding.”
Finn’s smile was frigid. “Of my mistress, yes. Not my wife.”
“So you tell yourself, but just think of it, Huntington. No more blindfolds, or binding your lover with silk scarves? No more games? That chit you’re betrothed to—she’s a sweet young thing, and rather pretty, too.” Lady Beaumont’s voice dripped with scorn. “But she’s not at all to your taste. You’ll lose interest in her within a fortnight.”
He’d never been interested in Miss Somerset—not in the way Lady Beaumont meant—but then that was rather the point. “She’s naïve, docile, and predictable, my dear. In other words, precisely to my tastes. What more could a gentleman ask for in a wife?”
