SHE had known, of course, that this was where she would end up, but now that the moment was upon her, it was a little unsettling. The bed suddenly loomed massive and a great distance away.
“Where do you want me exactly?” she asked, nearly forgetting to alter the timbre of her voice until it reflected the throatiness she required. She didn’t like not being in control, yet she suspected tonight she would be merely a puppet, his puppet. The notion should have filled her with anger or dread. Should have had her informing him that she wasn’t a pawn, but could leave anytime she wanted. He wouldn’t force or bully her. She was relatively certain of that. He was simply a man who knew what he wanted. She found that aspect of him quite attractive.
He wrapped both his hands around hers that was holding the snifter. She wondered when her fingers had gone icy, was amazed by how quickly they warmed with his touch. She would like to have him wrapped around her in winter, when the snow fell.
“For now, simply sit on the foot of the bed.” He relieved her of the brandy, turned to set the glass elsewhere, giving her a moment of privacy.
She crossed the short distance to the canopied bedstead and climbed onto the edge of the mattress. Once situated, with her legs dangling over the edge, she looked up, and her breath backed up into her lungs. With his eyes focused on her, Ashebury stood near the fireplace slowly unraveling his neckcloth, his jacket draped over the back of the sofa. He eased the length of linen away from his throat, set it aside, and went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.
“I do my best work if I’m comfortable,” he said, as though he read her discomfiture in the shifting of her body, as though she required an explanation. Not wanting to appear flustered, she refrained from asking how comfortable he intended to get. For goodness sakes, she’d walked unattended through rookeries and slums to assist the poor. She wasn’t some mewling miss.
She was, however, growing increasingly warm as he shrugged off the waistcoat, then loosened a few buttons on his shirt until a small V formed to reveal a hint of his chest. His cuffs were next. He began rolling up his sleeves as he prowled toward her, his gaze never once straying from her. She had a wild notion that he intended to pounce on her, to flatten her onto the bed and devour her with his heated kisses, raining them over every inch of her.
He stopped only when his thighs rested lightly against her knees. “I’m going to remove the pins from your hair.”
“It’ll tumble down.”
A corner of his mouth hitched up in that sensual smile he had that nearly stopped her heart from beating. “That’s the desired effect. I’ll use it to conceal the mask.”
“I can remove the pins.” She lifted her hands and his closed around them, preventing them from reaching their destination.
“I’ll do it.” His tone held no room for compromise.
But the thought of his performing such an intimate service . . . what the devil was wrong with her? She’d originally come here expecting a man to engage in something far more intimate. It was ridiculous to be squeamish now.
“Yes, all right.” She needed the words to at least pretend she had some say in the matter.
When he released her hands, she forced them to fall into her lap when she would have much preferred pressing them to his chest. While he was busy searching for her pins, his fingers barely skimming over her hair, she lowered her gaze to the V of skin that traveled from his throat downward. She didn’t know a single man as bronzed as he was. He no doubt didn’t wear so much as a shirt to shield him from the sun when he was traipsing through Africa or the Far East or anywhere else he dared to roam. She was half-tempted to press a kiss to that flesh, to feel its heat and silkiness against her lips, but before she could be so bold, she was aware of the pinging as her pins hit the floor.
She grabbed his wrist and his gaze slammed into hers. “Give them to me instead of tossing them aside; otherwise, we’ll have to search for them so I can put up my hair when we’re done.”
“We’ll find a ribbon to hold it back. I assume you’re not heading to a party after you leave here.”
“In the wee hours? Something reputable? Hardly likely.”
“Then I don’t see the problem. Except for the mask. Its ties are in the way.”
“I’m not removing it.”
“Then hold it in place.”
She put her hands over it, splaying her fingers so she didn’t lose sight of him. Gently, he tugged on the bow. The ties fell forward, the mask slipped ever so slightly. Without his warning, she’d have been revealed. It kindled something sharp and sweet inside her. He wasn’t going to take what she was not yet ready to give. He went back to work on her pins. Clink. Clink. Clink. She felt the shifting of her coiffure, then the weight of her hair tumbling down over her shoulders.
“Glorious,” he murmured right before there was a tug on the mask’s ribbons, and he was securing them.
Lowering her hands, she looked at him through the tiny holes upon which her eyelashes kept catching. Maybe she should get rid of the blasted thing, but his eyes held such appreciation that for a moment she could find no words, take no actions. With two fingers, he was rubbing several strands together as though he’d never before touched a woman’s hair.
“You could have discovered who I was,” she said quietly.
His attention shifted from her hair to her eyes. “You want the anonymity. I can honor that request. God knows there were times in my life when I longed for it.”
“When?”
“When I was younger. I wasn’t always the brightest of pupils. When I couldn’t arrive at the answer, I often wished no one knew who I was. I’ll wager you were an exceptional student.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You have intelligent, expressive eyes. You’re always watching, observing, striving to calculate where we’re going before we get there.”
“You deduced all that in our short time together?”
“I’m a keen observer, Lady V. It’s why I’m so skilled at what I do.” The smoldering look in his eyes implied he was referring to a great deal beyond the photography. It included kisses, touches, and far more intimate encounters. “Before we’re done here, I hope you have the opportunity to experience all my skills.”
“You’re not frightfully arrogant, are you? Both times I came here, you were a solitary figure against the wall. No ladies hovering about.”
“Because most know I make the selection. And I only select each lady once.”
“Yet you selected me twice.”
“It seems where you’re concerned, I’m making a good many exceptions. On the other hand, we’ve yet to complete my purpose or yours in being here. So perhaps it’s simply an extension of our first encounter. Now lie back.”
It was silly to want to talk with him more, to want to get to know him better. But Grace, blast her, was correct. How could she be intimate with a man who was more stranger than friend? While she had come here only to pose for him, now she was considering him posing for her, while she took liberties—
“A change of heart, Lady V?” he asked.
“No, I . . . a spurt of nerves, but they’re gone now.” She rolled down onto her back, looked up—
Jerked upright. “Oh, dear God, there’s a mirror there!”
He laughed, a deep, rich, rumble that made her smile, made her glad she had the power to elicit that response even if it was at her expense.
“I suppose I should have warned you about that,” he said.
“Why is it there?”
“Some people like to watch themselves while they’re . . . copulating.”
“Oh.” She had planned originally to be bedded with her eyes closed tightly, but if she did that, she would miss the beauty of his form. Still, she didn’t want to watch the actual coupling. She considered what she knew of the act. “Ladies, you mean. Ladies like to watch.”
“Men as well.”
“It seems that it might be rather difficult since you’re on top.”
“I’m not always on top.”
“Are you not?”
“No. Sometimes I’m on bottom. On my side. I’ve been known to stand.” He wrapped a large powerful hand around the bedpost. “Sometimes I kneel. There are all sorts of positions.”
“Do you know them all?”
“I doubt that. But I know a good many. I can share them with you when you’re ready.”
She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for all that, but she was intrigued by the possibilities. She had envisioned them coming together only once but, as she was beginning to realize she might never have enough of his kisses, perhaps there were other facets to him of which she’d never have enough.
Suddenly, barely aware of him moving, she found herself cradled in his arms. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to place you where I want you, before you lose your nerve. My subjects don’t usually talk so much. It’s better to just get on with it. I’m going to touch you, but you can stop me if you become uncomfortable with my attentions.”
As he walked around the corner of the bed, she felt delicate when she never had before in her life. Having inherited her father’s features, she’d always felt unfeminine, almost boyish. It hadn’t helped that she’d loved climbing trees and following after her brothers.
He set her down gently in the middle of the mattress as though she were fragile glass. With his hands coming to rest on her shoulder and hip, he rolled her slightly. “On your stomach but not all the way. Extend your left arm up. You can rest your head on it. Your right hand here, near your ribs to provide some support.”
She did as he bade. Then, as he’d promised, he began arranging her hair over her face, over the mask that she was coming to detest. What if she removed it? What if he realized who she was? Would he still be willing to bed her, or would he be put off by the notion of being with a woman no man had ever loved? Quite unexpectedly, she desperately wanted him to be the one who deflowered her. On his feet, on his knees, on his side, below her, above her. She wanted to be his first virgin. Wanted him to be her first lover. Even if only for one night, she wanted him.
Through the curtain of her hair, she watched him move back to the foot of the bed. He folded his hands around her feet, and although it made absolutely no sense, they felt delicate as well. “Left leg straight, right leg bent slightly at the knee.”
Holding her ankles, he guided her leg. “There. Perfect.”
A word that had never been associated with her before. She rather liked it.
“I’m going to move the silk up now because I want the emphasis to be on your legs. Most of the rest of you will be in shadow. I’ll stop if you tell me you’re uncomfortable. But I hope you’re daring enough to let me reach my destination. It’ll be pleasing for us both.”
That was a challenge if she ever heard one.
He moved the silk up with his wrists, his hands remaining curled around her legs as he glided them smoothly up over her calves, her knees—
A quick release to tug up the material caught beneath her legs. Then a continuation of the journey up her thighs, slowly, slowly, giving her time to protest. Only she wasn’t going to. She was her father’s daughter, a man branded as a thief in his youth who had taught her never to back down.
Ashebury’s hands came to rest just below the curve of her buttocks. “Good girl,” he murmured, with appreciation laced in his voice. “Brave girl.”
The joy that spiraled through her at pleasing him was rather confounding. Making him happy made her happy.
He adjusted the cloth, angling it higher on one side. “Are you aware that you have a tiny heart-shaped birthmark on your hip?” He placed a reverent kiss there that branded her flesh, scored her soul.
“Don’t move a muscle,” he ordered. Then he was gone, and she nearly wept at his leaving.
ASHE was as hard as granite. His body didn’t usually react when he was positioning a woman for the camera because he was so focused on the task, all his attention devoted to discerning how best to pose his subject to bring out the beauty of the human form. But with her it was different. Everything with her was different. He hadn’t wanted to stop at her hip. When he’d revealed the tiny birthmark, he’d wanted to continue exploring her, to uncover all the hidden secrets of her body.
Barely able to walk, he took his position behind the camera, peered through the lens. Exquisite, perfection. That, too, was unusual. Normally, he had to reposition a woman a little here or a little there. But he’d had two days to fantasize about her, to consider every facet of what he would do with those legs if he ever again had a chance to photograph them. All he needed now was to adjust the lighting.
Arranging chairs and small tables, he moved lamps to the foreground, increased their illumination, smiled as he became master of the shadows. They went where he willed.
So many times he’d almost tested his theory regarding her identity, almost called her Miss Dodger. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, didn’t want to lose this opportunity. Didn’t want to lose her.
He was going to bed her. Maybe not tonight, but very soon. He didn’t know when he’d become so certain of it, but he wasn’t going to let any other man have her. Not here, not anywhere, not for her first time. With her boldness, her willingness to go unflinchingly after what she wanted, she deserved better than a man who merely wanted to sate his lust. Although Ashe had to acknowledge that desire such as he’d never experienced was a motivating factor for him. He wanted what he had no right to possess.
She was a contradiction. A woman bold enough to come here for a bedding but reserved enough that she insisted on the secrecy, that even her lover not know who she was. Because she didn’t trust him not to hurt her? Had someone hurt her? Other than the dimwit who had hoped his children didn’t favor her? If she revealed his name, he might take measures to ensure the man never had children. He wasn’t prone to violence, except when survival was at stake, but she had him acting not quite like himself.
Yet she trusted him enough to be with him, to let him place his hands on her, to not harm her. Another reason existed for her reticence to remove the mask. It was a mystery he would like to solve. Slowly, over time, with relished moments and passionate kisses. She was fire beneath the reserve. He had the power to unleash it.
He could stand here all night just looking at her lying there. He wished he could capture all her true shades. The paleness of her skin, the rich auburn of her hair. The way the shadows caressed her as he longed to. The way the light revealed her as she deserved to be seen.
But only by him. He wanted no one else to see her as he had been given the chance to view her. He would never share with another soul the fine lines of her legs, the curve of her backside, the slope of her hip, the birthmark. No one else would ever know her as he did at this moment.
He stepped away from the camera. “You can relax. It’s done.”
She came up on an elbow, and he couldn’t help thinking that there was the opportunity for another remarkable photograph—if only she’d remove the mask. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“It’s the latest model. Quiet as a whisper,” he lied. She wouldn’t understand his motives for not taking the photo. He wasn’t quite certain he understood them himself.
She began shoving herself up farther.
“Hold,” he commanded.
She froze, and even the loathsome mask of silk and feathers couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he said.
MINERVA fought for calm as one of his knees landed between her calves. Then the other. His hands came to rest on either side of her body, supporting him, his length barely touching her as he prowled toward her until his face was directly over hers. That was all she could see. His shadowed jaw, the intensity of his gaze, the hard line of his lips, parted ever so slightly. She couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror above, couldn’t see the looking glass at all. Her vision had narrowed down to only him.
To this man who made her feel things she’d thought herself incapable of feeling. To this man who could make her feel appreciated while at the same time bringing home what she might have possessed if she were the sort of woman a man could fall in love with. To know what it might have felt like . . . to have known only the hollow shell of it . . . well, it was better than having never known, better than nothing at all.
He lowered his mouth, claiming hers, keeping himself suspended so that all she felt was a light brush of his chest against her breasts. Her nipples puckered painfully, strained against the cloth. She wanted to press him to her. Instead, she buried her fingers in his thick dark hair as he plundered. Surrender was such sweet victory.
To be desired like this was heady beyond all imagining. All her reservations regarding coming here drifted away. He was no longer a stranger. She knew he smelled of sandalwood. Knew the rasp of his bristly jaw against her chin in the hours just past midnight when he’d gone so long without shaving. She knew the deep rumble of his laugh, the way he could make her skin tingle with awareness with only his gaze focused on her as he stood a few feet away from her. She knew he marveled at beauty and wanted to capture it. When she was with him, she knew what it was to have a man’s undivided attention.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “Remove the mask.”
The request was a whisper, dark and full of promises. But she couldn’t risk the spell being broken. “No.”
He pressed his lips to the underside of her chin. How could the skin there be so sensitive?
“In that case, I won’t take your maidenhead, but I will gift you with pleasure as a means to express my appreciation to you for posing for me.”
He trailed his hot mouth down her throat, over her collarbone, then along the fall of silk that led to the swells of her breasts. Giving her a heavy-lidded, sensual gaze that caused her toes to curl, he smiled as though he fully understood how easily he could unravel her. Over the silk, he closed his mouth around her turgid nipple, lathing his tongue over it, dampening the cloth, causing sensations of pure delight to cascade through her. Then he caught the tiny peak between his teeth, and with the gentlest of bites, he had her hips coming up off the bed, reaching for him, searching for the hard ridge straining against his trousers.
“Not yet,” he insisted. “Not yet.”
Slowly, provocatively he glided down her body, providing only enough pressure to drive her mad, to alert her that she needed more, that release was dependent upon more. Finally, standing at the foot of the bed, he wrapped his arms around her hips and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. He lowered himself. “Now, you’ll learn what happens when I’m on my knees.”
His gaze holding hers, he placed her legs over his shoulders, eased the silk up until he bared what she had always kept most private. She gave no thought at all to objecting. When a man looked at woman as though she were his moon and stars, how could she protest? When a man’s eyes promised pleasure beyond her wildest dreams—
Turning his head, he pressed a featherlike kiss to the inside of one thigh, just above her knee. It felt so marvelous, so debauched. He gave attention to the other thigh, only a little higher up. This time, his tongue created a little circle of dew on her skin. An incredible sensation of wonder traveled from her tightening breasts to her curling toes. Back and forth he went, like someone climbing a ladder, taking her to heaven. When he reached the top, the juncture between leg and body, he locked his smoldering gaze onto hers. He held it for a heartbeat, two.
Then he lowered his mouth to the heart of her womanhood. Oh, dear Lord. Looking up at the mirror’s reflection, she saw herself spread before him like some feast, his dark head nestled between her thighs, his fingers pressing into her hips as he took and gave and caused the most exquisite intense sensations to course through her. It was all so decadent, all so magnificent.
His tongue swirled, his teeth nipped at her bud as they had her nipple. The heat of him scored her even as it delighted. He suckled, bit, laved, and applied pressure when she needed it, where she needed it. As though he were one with her, as though he could feel what she felt. But he could not possibly be feeling this. She didn’t know how anyone survived feeling this.
Pleasure coiled inside her, coiled so tightly that she thought she would break. And then she did. She shattered into shards of pleasure so rich, so remarkable that she thought surely this was death. Her cries echoed around her, her back arched, her body trembled. Breathing harshly, she was barely aware of him sliding up the bed, taking her in his arms, turning her into his chest, holding her tightly while her world slowly came back together.
“If we’re going to continue with this,” he said after a time, “the feathers need to go. They tickle my nose.”
With a soft laugh, she pushed herself up, took in the sight of him sprawled over the bed like some giant lazy cat. Reaching up, he wrapped strands of her silken hair around his finger, studied them. Could the shade give her away? It wasn’t uncommon. It was just hair.
“I want you to pose for me again.”
“Now?”
Releasing his hold on her hair, he shoved himself off the bed. “No, another night.”
Rebuttoning his shirt as he went, he walked to the sofa. There he slipped on his waistcoat, secured its buttons. He draped the strip of linen around his neck and began the process of creating an intricate knot.
Sliding from the bed, she padded over and brushed his hands aside. “I’ll do it.”
“An untouched woman skilled in tying a gentleman’s neckcloth?”
“I’m not certain I still qualify as untouched,” she said, finding it difficult to concentrate on her task with his nearness, his scent overwhelming her. “But I have a brother who is constantly in need of tidying.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
Without considering consequences, she’d spoken to a man with whom she felt incredibly comfortable. Danger rested with that thought. She had to be so careful not to give him too many clues regarding her identity. Her reputation, her family’s could be ruined. “Only one worth mentioning at the moment.”
Cradling her cheek, he tilted her face up. “You’ll trust me with your body but not your identity.”
“I dared to come here because I believed it could remain a secret.”
“Nothing ever remains a secret forever.”
Her chest tightened with the thought of how disappointed her parents would be if they ever learned she’d come here. How mortified she would be by the public acknowledgment of her desperation. She was half sister to a duke. She wouldn’t embarrass him for the world. “This must,” she stated with finality, touching her fingers to the secured knot at his throat to press home her point.
“I want you . . . desperately. But I want all of you revealed.” Turning away, he snatched up his jacket, drew it on. “You’ll find me here tomorrow night if you’ve any interest in taking things between us further. But the mask comes off.”
“I don’t—”
He pressed his finger to her lips. “Don’t answer now. Sleep on it. Then tomorrow night, at the witching hour, with either your presence or your absence I’ll have your answer.”
The remainder of tonight to think on it, to dream of it. “Well, then, we shall see.”
“So we shall. I’ll have my driver return you to your residence.”
He knew she wasn’t being taken to her residence, but she couldn’t let on that she was cross with him because it was Minerva he’d claimed to see at the Dragons that night, not Lady V. Dear God, but keeping the two of them separate was going to prove challenging. But after tonight, she thought it might well be worth it.
ASHE stood in the street and watched as his carriage carted her away to the Twin Dragons. He considered grabbing a hansom and arriving there shortly after her. She once again wore green. He would find the gown and the woman inside it. If she were Miss Minerva Dodger, he’d have his answer. If she weren’t, he’d know who she was. In either case, he could prolong their time together. She intrigued him. He wanted her to return here, for them to finish what they had begun.
Would she hate him for uncovering the truth of her? That was a possibility. And so he remained where he was.