Alex's Angel (7 page)

Startled that the man knew Alex by name, Emily dragged her gaze down to meet the openly curious appraisal of a short, thin young man.

“Is a private room available?” Alex asked.

“Aye, sir,” the man said, and he led them upstairs to a chamber containing several small tables spread with fine, white Holland linen and paired with cabriole-legged chairs of glossy mahogany. After the man had taken their wraps and hung them up, they sat at one of the tables.

“It’s very cosy in here,” Emily remarked lamely. Goodness, how much did a room like this cost for just the two of them?

“You would have felt conspicuous in the common room.”

“People would have thought I was your kept lady, just like those two gentlemen on the steps did.”

“Aye, they would think something close to that.” His golden brows drew together slightly. “Emily, would you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Would you remove whatever it is that you have stuffed your bodice with?”

“What?”
Surely she’d heard him wrong.

“I am not fond of repeating myself.” His frown deepened.

Her face flamed. “I don’t think you have any right to ask such a thing.”

“Look at yourself.” He gestured to her chest. “You’re all…out of balance.”

She glanced down. Oh dear. One of her false breasts was pointing up and looking rather lumpy. The other was still nice and round and pointing correctly, straight out. She slowly returned her eyes to his. He was openly grinning now, his eyes dancing with laughter.

“Please, just do it.”

She waited for him to give her some privacy, but he kept staring at her chest with that near-comical frown on his face.

“Must you stare at me whilst I do so?”

“Pardon me.” He turned away from her.

 
Breathing quickly now with mortification, she reached into her bodice and plucked the stockings out, then threw them to the floor beneath the table. She adjusted her bodice and winced at how flat she looked. Before the fever she’d possessed somewhat respectable curves, but they’d been slow to return. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been able to afford any grand feasts.

“All right, it’s done,” she said.

He turned back to face her. He moved his eyes slowly over her, giving her the same sensation as earlier at the Blue Duck, as if he were picking her apart bone by bone. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Do I meet with your approval now?”

A small smile lifted his lips. “You’ll do.”

“What a relief,” she said with deliberate sarcasm.

His smile broadened and his eyes warmed. “What do you want to eat?”

“Duck,” she said without hesitation. It had been so long since she’d eaten duck. Blood pudding and day-old bread made for an affordable yet tedious daily menu.

He poured her a glass of wine—claret this time. She took a hesitant sip and let it burn her all the way down. Then she took another, deeper drink. She was certainly fast getting used to the taste of expensive wine.

 
* * * *

Alex refilled Emily’s glass with more claret. She brought the glass to her lips, tipped it and took a deep drink. Her eyes glazed, then half-closed, an expression of such pure pleasure that he almost groaned. He’d been watching her do this for some time and his cock was as hard as iron.

It wasn’t just her obvious sensual enjoyment that commanded his attention. It was the way the fine cords in her neck stretched and the way the candlelight played on her fragile-looking collarbones. The feminine perfection of her hands and her delicately etched cheekbones.

She was so like a diminutive china doll.

And that full, wine-stained mouth invited the most indecent fantasies. He’d like to kiss her and taste the combination of rich claret and the lingering saltiness of his own seed on her tongue.

But it was her nose that fascinated him the most. The juxtaposition of that one strong feature alongside her utter femininity proved inexplicably yet irresistibly alluring.

Her eyes opened over the brim of her glass and a vertical line marred her forehead as her dark red brows drew together. She firmly set the glass down, eyeing him warily, as if his attention were making her uneasy.

“I think I’ve had more than enough wine. I’d prefer a coffee, if you don’t mind, Alex. Make it black.”

God, she was so unpredictable. And adorable.

“But ladies don’t drink black coffee—don’t you know that?”

She rolled her elegant little shoulders. “Then I suppose I’m not a lady. I don’t care, I want coffee.”

 
“I’ll request tea, with cream and honey. All my ladies drink tea with cream and honey.”

“But I’m not one of your ladies,” she replied briskly.

He enjoyed provoking those sparks in her sherry-brown eyes. He laughed quietly. “When you sit here at my table, enjoying my largesse, you certainly are one of my ladies.”

When his remark drew the desired response, he knew one thing as sure as his next breath—he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until he’d had her. Having caught a glimpse of her beguiling sensuality, he wanted to drown himself in it. God, he just might pay a fortune to possess her.

He shifted in the seat, trying to ease his swelling erection, and mentally reviewed the previous hour. Though she’d eaten with pretty manners, it had been painfully obvious she’d wanted to gulp down the elegant fare. He winced in painful recollection of similar keen cravings. As she prattled on merrily about her extended family of oddball aunts and reprobate uncles, he was ninety-nine per cent certain it was a pure fiction. The strange thing was that it didn’t matter. Her quick, imaginative mind entertained him, making his mood far lighter than it had been in a painfully long time.

And it made him wonder to what better uses that imagination could be turned under his guidance.

“I’m ready to leave,” he said firmly.

She glanced up at him, her gorgeous mouth parted in a way that made his cock ache. He suppressed a groan.

“Now?” she asked.

“If you want coffee, I’ll make some in my rooms. I have some very fine coffee and since you do not require cream—”

“Your rooms?” She looked at him as if he’d suddenly begun speaking in a foreign language.

“I keep a suite of rooms at a boarding house. I cannot be bringing girls to my house—my aunt and unmarried cousin live there.”

Her eyes grew huge and she paled several shades. “You want to take me to your…p-private rooms?”

Her voice quavered as if she were some sheltered society miss.

Irritation pricked him. Of course she would pretend to be difficult at this point. He hated false coyness. He took her hand.

“Don’t worry, I shall be quite generous.”

“H-how generous?”

Inwardly, he sighed. She certainly lacked finesse.

“I prefer not to talk business in the heat of the night, but if you must know, I shall give you a hundred dollars for tonight.”

“A hundred dollars?”

“Yes.” It was an extravagant amount but he liked to spoil his women. He liked seeing their shocked delight. He adored accepting their equally extravagant gratitude.
 

Her gaze fell to her empty plate.

Well, he’d certainly never received that reaction.

Some silences seemed more silent than others. This was definitely one of those silences. He began to feel uneasy. Had he insulted her in some way? He couldn’t imagine how. It should have been the simplest of exchanges.

Oh, what the hell. “How about one hundred and fifty?”

He knew he’d pay a lot more, but wasn’t willing to show his hand quite yet. Besides he suspected he was going to want her for more than one night. At least a fortnight, he was certain. Maybe the entire winter season. In the latter case, they would have to come to an agreement for her keep, at least in the short-term. She shoved her chair back with a loud scraping sound. Then she jumped to her feet, her glossy, dark curls bobbing in a pretty display. The way she moved fascinated him. The lithe lines of her long, slender arms and waist held a certain elegance. Made him think of how flexible that nubile body must be and to what uses it could be put.

“I have to be getting home now.” Her voice cut into his wandering thoughts.

“Home?” Well, that was a shock. And she’d said it so seriously that he almost believed her. What a little opportunist! She certainly knew her own worth. Far more so than he had on initial glance. She had looked so helpless, so hapless at first… Grudging admiration tugged at him and he had to fight not to grin. All right, he’d get her her own suite of rooms. A wardrobe of fine clothes. Maybe a carriage and four. Maybe. It would depend on how well she delivered on the promise of her sensuality.

But he didn’t feel like letting her know that right at that moment. He frowned sadly. “Do you really have to go home, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” She avoided his eyes as she pushed her chair to the table, then she ran over to where her cloak hung. “It was a lovely meal, thank you. I-I am sorry.”

He watched her open the door…and leave.

Good God, she was really leaving. No woman had ever walked out on him in a situation like this. Hadn’t he just offered her four times what she might have expected in return for warming his sheets?

Chapter Four

Emily was running so hard that her lungs were burning.

From behind her, boots sounded on the stone steps. Safely outside now, she stopped and turned. She panted helplessly for breath.

Men and their damned long-legged strides.

She glanced down at the nankeen breeches that clearly outlined his powerful thighs. Heat suffused her and her lower belly fluttered. Suddenly, she longed to fling herself into his arms and press her body against his tall, hard-muscled frame.

What would it be like to have a man—
this
man—covering her with his weight and taking her body?

Chills tingled through her; fear so strong that her mouth went dry. Not fear of him, and not entirely of her own reaction. No—it was fear of the
strength
of her reaction to him.

Heart thudding, she took a step back. Then another. Her foot slipped and she almost turned her ankle. She struggled not to lose her balance.

His high, broad forehead wrinkled and he reached out to her with one hand. “I’ll take you home.”

She couldn’t possibly let him. She couldn’t risk another moment in his company. What she would do without her rent money, she just didn’t know. All she knew was that she had to get away from him now.

Because if she stayed with him much longer, she’d never be able to resist the temptation. He fascinated her so much; she wanted him so much that every instinct for self-preservation she had screamed that if he took her, she’d be lost. No—more than simply lost. She’d lose herself forever. Yes, that fear might be irrational, but she couldn’t help it.

“No… No. You simply can’t give me a ride home.” Her mind scrambled for something to put him off. “I-I didn’t tell you…but I should have.”

“What?”

“I have a protector.”

He started, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility. Then he grinned—there was something wicked and all-too-worldly glinting in his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, he’s not here now.”

He took several steps forward, his boots crunching on ice.

She should run. She really should. But her legs seemed to go all wobbly, growing more so with each step he took until he was standing no more than an inch from her.

Her stomach floated up with both excitement and fear—the most exhilarating thing she had ever felt. “B-but if someone saw you and I together and told…he’d be crushed.”

He brushed aside her cloak and traced the central line from her chin to the hollow of her collar with one leather-gloved fingertip. Fire raced down over her breasts and made her nipples pull into tight pebbles. God. A hundred dollars. No—one hundred and fifty. He’d actually offered her a hundred and fifty dollars, and he was everything she could ever imagine she’d want in a gentleman—based strictly on physical appearance. He seemed to be kind and generous. Maybe she was being too hasty in deciding not to take him up on his offer.

“Your protector is very careless. No jewellery to adorn your pretty neck.” He continued to draw his fingertip along her collarbone. “A girl like you could easily command a fortune in jewels.”

“He’s cheap.” She barely breathed as she watched him trace his finger trace over the black lace on the edge of her bodice. Her nipples were sharp, painful points now.

He froze his fingertip and frowned. “You seem too chary to let yourself go cheaply.”

“Times are tough.”

His grin returned. “Not that tough, sweetheart.”

She let her exasperation out in a sigh and her shoulders sank. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He removed his hand and his smile twisted into a wry, somehow self-mocking grin.
 
“All right, sweetheart—I’ll drop you a block from where you live.”