London Lace, #2 (2 page)

“– I
dare
you,” Eliza whispered huskily. This boy liked to play with fire.

He pulled back to face her, their hips still joined. His blue eyes locked on her brown ones. “Bloody hell, what am I going to do with you?” He looked perplexed, and hungry, torn between his desire to act out his fantasy, and her challenge, and the awareness that he was on a crowded pedestrian bridge in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world.

“What
are
you going to do with me?” Eliza echoed. “That’s what I’d like to find out,” she added with a teasing drawl.

He bent down over her lips, picked them up with his own, and drove his tongue into her mouth. With one hand on the back of her head, he held her mouth tight to his, driving his tongue in and out and all around the inside of her mouth. When he came up for a breath, her knees were weak, and her hips, and all that lay between them, felt like molten jelly.

“If I could get away with doing that to your other lips without getting carried off in a paddy wagon I would, Miss Keating. But an arrest would spoil our afternoon.”

Eliza mustered the sass to at least pout. A corner of Todd’s beautiful mouth turned down at the gesture of her disappointment.

“Well, then,” he said, reaching for his zipper. “We aim to please.”

Eliza gaped, all pretense of sass and teasing gone on the last breezy gust from the Thames. She looked back and forth along the bridge. “Todd! You can’t. Stop!”

He threw his head back again and laughed even louder. “The look on your face. Priceless.”

She hit him on the shoulder as he made sure his zipper was back in its top position. “We really ought not to get carried away here. Besides, your panties would get in the way.”

She bit her lip at the mention of her panties. If only he knew…

“Come,” he said, pulling her by the hand. “The car’s waiting.” He buttoned his jacket over his bulge, or most of it. He didn’t seem shy about the part still sort of visible, if you were looking right at it, which Eliza was, until he pulled her into a brisker pace. And if anyone did notice, Eliza was damn proud to have been the inspiration of
that
.

About an hour later, they pulled up in front of the Sandown Racetrack in Esher. They had been civilized in the car, holding hands and kissing, sitting close together and talking. Eliza had been grateful for the cool leather seats. Todd’s fingers explored her upper thighs and the slight V-dip in her skirt, but he kept his fingers on
top
of the fabric.

The driver, Albert, worked for the Montgomery family, and Todd explained a bit about the various businesses the family owned and how they wanted him to consider a management post in London. That’s why he had been summoned to the city. Apparently they wanted to sell the country manor Todd’s father leased, which had reverted back to the family estate when he had died two years before. Todd had inherited a house in Oxford titled to his father but it was the country manor that had the stables and grazing meadows that allowed Todd to raise the horses he loved so much.

He said, “I’m happier in the country around animals. I don’t want to get stuck in the rat race of the city.”

“We’re not all rats, you know.”

Eliza had worked damned hard to make it in the city and had no intention of going back to her industrial roots in Sheffield. Even if finding herself at a racetrack conjured up memories of home. Not her own memories, but memories of stories her mother told about her scoundrel of a father. Despite her chosen profession, Eliza had never been to a racetrack. Even if at least half her clients came in for hats and headdresses for the innumerable society events held at race tracks throughout the UK, Eliza's design ability had never been negatively impacted by her lack of experience at the track, where, according to her mother, most of her family’s hopes for the future had been lost.

Eliza didn’t even remember her father. Her mother had kicked him out when she was three, saying she had to cut her losses before she lost her mind. She raised Eliza on a cashier’s wages and sub-standard childcare. Eliza learned from her mother that a girl had to make it on her own and never rely on a man. And now Eliza had gone and fallen for a man who loved the races. No, she corrected herself, she hadn’t ‘fallen’ for anyone or anything. This was a casual affair. A pleasurable distraction. Todd was a wild ride she planned to enjoy to the fullest,
without expectations
.

As they stepped inside the busy hall, Eliza looked up at the huge signs listing the races and the horse and jockey names.

Todd looked up at the lists, smiled, and pointed. “There he is.”

“Who?”

“Dante’s Fire. Foaled him myself.”

“Excuse me?”

“He was sired by Merlin’s Magic and my dam, Sheba. I brought that little power house into the word.” He chuckled, and for a moment he looked like a proud daddy.

This was a whole other side to Todd. Not that she knew his others, but this was one side his family didn’t seem to appreciate.

“Do you want to place a bet?” said Todd.

“Um. No thank you. You go ahead though.”

He looked at her a moment. “Oh. I’m not a gambler. I just like to see the horses run.” He took her hand. “That’s what I want to show you.” He pulled her toward the nearest viewing platform.

The oval spread out wide and green before them, the sky a marbled blue backdrop, the track a smooth brown loop edged with white fencing.

Surrounded by the buzz of conversation and cheering, she heard the rumble of galloping hooves in the distance and an announcer calling out names and positions. It was just a normal day at the races but it felt like a special occasion compared to her regular life. What must it be like on the biggest race days, or the Ladies’ Days? Those fashion parades kept Eliza’s shop humming and her creativity always on its edge. She couldn’t help noticing the pillboxes, brims, and fascinators coloring the stands.

Todd’s eyes were on the track, of course. He dragged her closer to the railing.

He pointed. “That’s him!”

“Which one?” They were four-legged blurs of black and brown, with the jockeys on their backs a rainbow of colors.

“He’s in third place. Oh, wait. He’s dropped to fourth, but he’s coming up again to third.” Todd pumped his fist. “He might even place second!” Todd was beaming. “One more lap to go. He could do it. I’ll be damned. Come on.”

He headed down some steps to a lower level a little closer to the track. Betters were waving little papers and shouting as the horse rounded into the last lap. The announcer grew even livelier and spoke more rapidly. Eliza vibrated with all the excitement around her. She held on to Todd’s hand as a kind of anchor.

They pushed forward to the lower railing. Todd slipped his hand around her shoulder and drew her close. Though he was still completely focused on the horses rounding the bend and driving to the finish line, his arm had slipped so automatically around her, so protectively and possessively. She fit perfectly under his arm; she felt as if she belonged there.

The horses barreled to the finish line to a cacophony of cheers and clapping. Dante’s Fire took second place. Todd was thrilled.

The jockeys rode the horses for a cool down before passing quite close to where Eliza was standing. She could see the lather around the horses’ bits, the slick sheen on their haunches, their muddied hooves and shanks.

Clusters of people were now moving and gathering into social pockets to chat and compare race highlights before the next race started. Todd waved at a few people nearby. One fellow walked over and shook his hand.

“Haven’t see you around lately, mate.”

“Andrew, good to see you again,” said Todd. “Been down in the country doing the
real
work. The kind that makes this stuff possible.”

“One of yours here today?”

“Came in second in that race, I’m proud to say. Dante’s Fire.”

“Ah, he’s your baby? Or was?”

“Right. Belongs to Harvey Selfridge now.”

“Well, I’ll keep an eye on him,” said Adrew. His gaze flicked to Eliza.

Todd caught the look. “Where are my manners? Andrew Wakefield, Eliza Keating.”

“Pleasure,” said Eliza offering her hand and smiling.

Andrew took it. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

A well-dressed couple approached their small group. The woman wore a peacock-feather-festooned fascinator clipped to her stiffly-coiffed do. Much smaller than a hat, and needing a clip to secure it to the wearer's head, fascinators could be dramatic and eye-catching, like this one, or elegant and subdued for less festive but still formal events. Eliza had created many of both types. This woman leaned toward the dramtic. The fellow she was with wore a dark brown suit with a turquoise silk tie, which matched the iridescent glow of the peacock feather’s eye but also reminded Eliza of her silk robe at home and the fun she’d had in it last night. She shifted from one foot to the other as a warm surge pulsed between her legs, but her own skin rubbing against itself did nothing to cool the flare. She tucked herself more tightly under Todd’s arm.

“Todd Montgomery, it’s been months.” The woman held out a gloved hand and Todd had no choice but to take it. He lifted it delicately to his lips but only brushed the air around her knuckles.

“Lady Elliot, enchanting as usual.”

She giggled. “Jocelyn, darling. I thought we dispensed with formalities eons ago.” She gave him a suggestive look. Todd turned his attention to her husband.

“How are you, Peter?”

“Very well, Todd. And you?”

“Let me introduce my friend, Eliza Keating.”

Friend? She didn’t know what she was to Todd but she didn’t think it was ‘friend’.

“How do you do?” said Eliza, nodding to the Elliots.

“And you know Andrew.”

“Quite well,” said Peter. “I saw Golden Boy in this morning’s race. He’s coming along nicely.”

“Thank you,” said Andrew. He and Peter chatted about some of the other horses.

Jocelyn took a step toward Todd but kept her eyes on Eliza. “I haven’t seen you step out with anyone in months. It’s nice to see you’re still warm-blooded.”

“I don’t often like to be distracted from my work, you know that. Miss Keating has been a delightful surprise.”

“I don’t doubt that. Are you the
milliner
Eliza Keating?”

She said
milliner
with a somewhat condescending emphasis that Eliza chose to ignore. Todd flexed his arm over her shoulders so she could feel his support, which she appreciated but didn’t really need. She often had to deal with snobs like Lady Elliot at work.

“I am. That’s a lovely fascinator, by the way. It really stands out.”

Lady Elliot swept a hand lightly over one of the protruding feathers. “It’s a Dale Huckabee, of course you’ve heard of him?”

Eliza laughed lightly. “Who hasn’t?”

Dale was an ex-pat Brit who’d recently moved to New York City with an aim to steal the hat scene there. His audacity to ‘take Manhattan’ was a delight to Londoners, and at home at least, his reputation was soaring.

“You must excuse us, “ said Todd. “I need to introduce Eliza to Dante’s Fire as well.”

Jocelyn looked at him oddly and then smiled as if to polish away any insult that may or may not have been meant by the remark.

“Ta ta then, until next time. Good to meet you, Miss Keating.”

Eliza nodded. “Lady Elliot.”

“Cheerio, Andrew and Peter.” Todd waved and so did they.

Todd slid his shoulder from Eliza’s and grabbed her hand as they walked. His face held its stiff smile until they were well out of the viewing area. Then he sighed, let his shoulders sag, and turned to her with an apologetic half smile.

“Sorry about that. I like to come to see the horses, but I can’t seem to avoid the people. Peter’s all right. But Jocelyn…” He shook his head.

“She’s like a lot of my clients actually. Well, some of them.” Most of them were nicer, to be honest. “Did you and she ever…?” The way she had talked to him, the suggestive looks, the way she’d looked almost but not quite envious of Eliza.

Todd led her through a set of doors that said Private Access Only. He gripped her hand as they walked down the corridor. “Please, I’d really rather not talk about that now.”

“Oh? Does her husband know?” Eliza’s jaw had tensed. Though Todd held her hand tight, her own grasp slackened.

He stopped and turned to her, his blue eyes intense. “Listen, it’s not what you think. There’s a complex history there. I just don’t want to go into it now. Can you forgive me?”

“For not going into it or for having a ‘complex history’ with that woman?”

He sighed. “Both, I guess. Look we’re here together. Now. I want to show you something that I enjoy, something meaningful, and it has nothing to do with those people. Can we talk about them later and just enjoy being here now? Together?”

His look was hopeful, attentive, and perhaps something in her expression softened because his eyes took on that darkly sexy look all of a sudden and he leaned in close to her. “There is nowhere I’d rather be and no one I’d rather be with, Miss Eliza Keating.”

“Why should I believe you,
Sir
?”