Hunting the Hero (9 page)

When she tried to leave, his grip on her hand remained firm. “Not so fast. There is something you need to understand.”

Meredith sighed wearily. Where was Linnie or an idle footman when she needed their intervention? “I’m afraid I am otherwise engaged this evening. Surely Linnie informed you I’m promised to Lord Grayling.”
 

His eyes narrowed and his grip tightened painfully until Meredith feared she’d cry out. The last time she’d spoken with Lord Squires, she’d heard the possessive tone in his voice and shrugged it off. Now, however, all those little warning signs were back and insistently telling her that Squires was a jealous man. She counted to ten slowly to keep her temper in check, but the man was in danger of having his hand broken.

“You’ll be mine and no one else’s. I’ll see the bawd and settle terms so we can be on our way.”

His arrogance astounded her. She wasn’t a pet to buy. She had a say in whom she bedded and it wouldn’t be Squires ever again. “On the contrary, my lord. I belong to no man.”

She shook off his grip as the door opened. Grayling stepped inside, another parcel clutched in his hand but a furious expression on his face for a change. “I beg to differ. She’s mine tonight and every night.”

In the face of Grayling’s presence, the smaller built Squires didn’t appear so threatening. Yet he puffed up his chest importantly and put on a good show. “Miss Bower and I have a long-standing arrangement.”

“Miss Bower?” Grayling’s brow rose at the fraudulent last name Squires used. Grayling hooked his hand around the man’s arm and dragged him to the door. “If she was so important, you should have made her your mistress long before this. As it is, you are too late. Now get out, and don’t ever touch her or speak to her again.”

Squires’s arms and legs flew as he was tossed out on his ear into the hall. The door slammed shut and Grayling locked it for good measure. When he turned, he appeared anything but pleased.
 

Meredith went to him and stroked his arms. “Thank you, my lord. Your timing is as impeccable as ever. I was attempting to show him out.”

Grayling folded his arms over his chest, forcing her to keep a distance. “Not very well.”

Meredith snuggled closer, determined to ease him from his bad mood and give him the night he had paid for. “As well as any woman can. We cannot throw grown men out as you would. We must use the means we have available.”

His smooth brow creased with deep frown lines. “You mean you’ve nothing to defend yourself with but the flutter of your lashes?”

Grayling would not be so concerned if he knew just how capable she was. Keeping him in the dark about her other skills was a simple matter. He wouldn’t want to know. Just for the effect, Meredith fluttered her lashes, looking up at him with an utterly vacuous expression on her face.
 

A rueful smile crossed Grayling’s lips and he unfolded his arms slowly. “You’ll be the ruin of me.”

Meredith laughed and slipped her arms about his waist. His warmth and scent filled her. She snuggled closer, pleased to feel a thickening lump pressed against her belly. He was always aroused when he arrived. She hoped he didn’t ride his horse in that condition. It could be painful. “Not true.”

It took a moment to notice that Constantine had not moved to embrace her. He watched her curiously, his green eyes serious. “So, is your name Miss Bower?”

Meredith released her grip on his waist and stretched to cup his rear. She squeezed and then kneaded the firm flesh. There was nothing quite like bedding a fit and heavenly scented man. Grayling was fast becoming a favorite. “Absolutely not. I cannot imagine where he heard such a falsehood. I merely chose not to correct him.”

He caught her hands and lifted them high over her head before spinning her about and backing her against a wall. “Are you ever honest?”

“Frequently, my lord. But my identity is something I will never tell you or anyone that comes after you. That woman is dead.”
 

Meredith saw the flinch of pain in his eyes at the mention of death. She rose up on her toes and kissed his jaw. “Can you not accept me as I am?”

He tightened his grip on her hand and stared down at her, the intensity of his gaze growing until she feared the answer would be no. She lowered her heels to the floor, but her arms remained trapped high above her head. When Grayling did not soften one inch, she dropped her eyes to his cravat. The mathematical knot was perfectly tied. Would she ever gain the satisfaction of untying it again?

Grayling lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “Are you like this with every man who comes to your bed?”

Meredith rolled her eyes. Must every man demand to know he was the best when it came to pleasure? “No. You seem to bring out the worst in me. But that brings to mind a problem. I need to talk to you. Please, won’t you release me so we might talk in a civilized fashion?”

He dropped her hand so abruptly that it wouldn’t surprise her to discover he’d forgotten how he’d held her. Meredith rubbed her wrists and directed him to the couch by the window so she could see his expression clearly as they talked. “In my line of work, it is unusual for a woman to be bound to one patron every night for so long a stretch of time. In most cases, she would not spend the entire night with one man alone. She would service several. That is how such establishments—and myself, to a degree—make a living.”

His face reddened. “I hadn’t realized I’d become an inconvenience to your games.”

Meredith pressed her slick palms together. “I didn’t say I don’t enjoy your company, but my exclusivity has become a sticking point with several patrons. As you just discovered, Lord Squires has an interest in my available time.”

“Would you rather they fucked you instead?”

Meredith winced at the harshly worded question but did her best not to show her discomfort. “I never said that. What I’m trying to say, to warn you about, is that Mrs. Cohen may try to increase the fee she charges you and if you don’t pay, I’ll be forced to leave your bed before you might be ready for me to go. I cannot continue to sleep all night in your arms. It is impractical for a woman in my profession.”

“A woman like you,” he repeated. He crowded her, forcing her into the corner of the couch until she had nowhere else to go. His green eyes burned hot. “I’ve not imagined you lust for my touch.”

Oh, how she wanted him. When he had her under his control, wringing pleasure from every nerve, she couldn’t deny him. Even now, when he was so angry, his eyes had darkened to a shade she’d never seen and she still wanted him. “I’ve never denied it.”

He blinked slowly. “So what do you want me to do? Offer you the position as my mistress? Bring you enough jewels and trinkets to slip on your arms that you could not lift them?”

Meredith grasped his shoulders. “I want nothing from you. Have I ever mentioned a hope of becoming your mistress?” She shook him. “No, I never intended to, but I do have a question to pose to you about your intentions. What on earth are you doing, coming here night after night? If you keep this up, you’ll be nothing more than a penniless beggar. You have a wife. Go back to her.”

“I can’t go back. She left me.”
 

Meredith caught her breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “When?”

“Two years ago now.”

The woman was a fool to have walked away from such a man. Grayling had never struck her as a hard person to be around. Possessive, determined, and diabolically wicked with his need to have his way in bed, perhaps. She cupped his face with both hands and brushed her lips against his. “You’ve been lonely?”

“Never when I’m with you.”

He stood and crossed the room to squat before the fire. He grabbed a poker and fussed with the embers, added more wood, and then dusted his hands off. When he faced her again, his expression was one of extreme sadness. He must have loved his wife very much. He must have been cruelly disappointed.
 

Determined to turn his mind from his troubles, Meredith rose and took his hand. She led him to bed, covered his glorious body with hers, and did her utmost to drive his loneliness from his mind. It was only later, when Meredith had exhausted every trick she knew to please him without intercourse and was on the brink of sleep, that she dared to ask why his wife had left him.
 

Grayling sighed heavily and tucked her against his chest, curling around her body to keep her warm through the night. His lips whispered over her shoulder in a gentle kiss. “You misunderstand. She didn’t go voluntarily. I killed my wife.”

Meredith held still until his breath evened out into the sleep of an exhausted man and then carefully slipped from his embrace. She huddled on the far side of the bed and tried to make sense of his words. Grayling couldn’t possibly be a killer and admit it so freely. She didn’t believe he was the least bit dangerous. Tomorrow, she would get the truth of it, but for now, just to be sure, she wouldn’t sleep a wink.

CHAPTER 8

THE HEAVY WEIGHT lying in Constantine’s pocket burned a hole through his coat. Calista had not been available when he’d arrived, and he’d been cooling his heels in the red-velvet bedchamber for at least half an hour. He supposed he deserved to wait after skulking like a thief from the bed where Calista slept in careless abandon this morning. He had a lot to make up for.
 

A woman moaned and he scowled at the wall dividing this room from the next. When the moans turned to full-throated cries of a passably believable orgasm, he shook his head. The question Calista had asked him yesterday came back to haunt him.
What was he doing here again?
The seventh day in a row. He’d spent a fortune to be with Calista. A fortune he’d spend a dozen times over to have more time with her. To have her all to himself.

He glanced at the clock again, wondering if she really was involved in the new prostitute’s tutelage or writhing beneath a man like the woman next door. Calista had told him she couldn’t be his alone. The madam expected her to service other men. But he didn’t like it one bit. Calista was his. He couldn’t imagine giving her up.

Jealousy was not a new sensation for him. He had always wanted what was his. The fact that he’d grown possessive over a woman so free with her favors, one he’d known less than a week, spoke volumes for his addled state of mind. He had meant his offer yesterday to make her his mistress. They could be very comfortable lovers.

But Calista didn’t want to belong to him or any man.

He paced to the window and peered out at the gardens Calista could never bear to look at. The sun was setting over the distant valley, bathing the clipped rosemary hedges in fading light. A pretty scene. He couldn’t understand why Calista disliked the view so much that she refused to look out the window. That same wild, earthy scent clung about her body and skin. A fragrance that drove him wild. Perhaps he’d lost his mind.

He turned as the door opened. Calista stopped in the doorway momentarily and surveyed him. He relaxed at the sight of her. She was wearing the blue velvet carriage dress he’d purchased to keep her warm. For one insane moment, he considered throwing her over his shoulder and stealing her away from this place, but then he noticed a footman lingered in the hallway beyond. He appeared idle, but perhaps he listened in.

From the wall beside them, a male voice shouted out and then the brothel’s other occupants grew silent once more.

Calista, and the footman beyond, behaved as if they’d heard none of it. “Forgive me for keeping you waiting.”

Wary, shadowed eyes met his. She moved away from the door and into the room but did not close the door behind her. The footman came closer and paused where he could see into the room. Constantine walked toward the footman. “Is there a message for me?”

“No, my lord.”

“Good, then go away.” He closed the door on the man and spun about. “What was that about?”

Calista clasped her hands before her. “A precaution.”

That made no sense. “What for? Has a guest caused a difficulty for you?”

“No, of course not,” she murmured softly. “Linnie is just being meddlesome. It doesn’t matter.”
 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He gestured to the couch where they began each day. The routine of simply talking over events in their lives soothed him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. “Shall we sit?”

Calista nodded and glided toward him. As she drew level, Constantine reached for her hand, but she kept them before her. He frowned at the absence of affection. He’d grown accustomed to her frequent caresses, and the lack troubled him. Something had changed.
 

He smiled to reassure her he would be the least of her problems. “Have you had a troubling day?”

“No, not really. It was an exceptionally pleasant one.”

“Did you meet with someone?” The moment the question left his lips he knew he sounded like a jealous lover. He paid for her time, her body to be his alone. He didn’t want to share her with other men. “Another man.” The harsh edge to his voice made Calista jump where she sat. He swallowed nervously. He’d have to do better at keeping his possessive tendencies under wraps.

Calista shifted slightly, adding another degree of distance between them. “A dear friend returned to visit, Cook’s son, and I spent the morning hearing Robbie’s news.”