Pride and Pleasure

Her breasts grew heavy and tender. The beat of her heart quickened and her skin tingled from her head to the place where his boot stroked her. It suddenly struck her that Jasper was deliberately arousing her. In the middle of the day. In the center of town. Seated inches away from two other people.



His hand lifted to an unsecured button on his coat. Strong fingers grasped it, the pad of his thumb rubbing leisurely against the outer curve. She watched, mesmerized, imagining him touching her skin that way. On the curve of her shoulder, perhaps. Or somewhere else.



He would know the best place to focus that caress.



The thought of his skill thrilled her.



Her face heated. She shifted restlessly on the squab, hoping to find a more comfortable position and worsening her predicament instead. She clutched her throat, rubbing it to facilitate her breathing. She felt as if she might pant, as if her stays were too tight and she might soon become dizzy.



Jasper’s gaze settled on her gently heaving breasts. She knew she should look away and collect herself, but she could not. Her brain writhed in dismay, horrified that her body would so completely fail to function properly for no other reason than that Jasper Bond was undressing her in his mind. She knew he was remembering her as she’d been last night. Partially dressed. Easily bared.



The barouche slowed to a stop.



“Here we are,” Lady Collingsworth said with customary cheerfulness.



Jasper broke the connection first, his head turning toward Somerset House. Eliza looked down, watching as his foot withdrew from beneath her skirts.



How she made the journey from the carriage to the interior of the edifice was a mystery to her. By the time she recovered the full use of her mental and physical faculties, they were entering the Exhibition Hall. Light poured into the large room from the arched windows high above the hall floor. The walls were covered in paintings, the gilded frames butting against each other, occupying every tiny bit of space.



As they neared the center of the room, Jasper slowed their progress to a standstill. Eliza looked at him, surprised to find him staring raptly at the images before him. His head was tilted back to the point that the rear of his hat brim nearly touched his back.



Eliza took stock of the room’s other occupants, noting that the nearest individual was a few feet away. She leaned nearer to Jasper and whispered his name.



“Hmm…?”



“Do you remember saying you would answer any question I asked, so long as it pertained to the present?”



“Yes.” He did not cease his enthralled perusal of the art. “Ask me anything.”



She cleared her throat. “Do you…want to…mate with me?”



He jolted so violently, the reaction shook her, too. His wide-eyed gaze darted to hers. “Eliza.”



“I do not see why you should look so astonished,” she said, “after kissing me last night, and considering your actions during the ride here.”



His gaze warmed. A smile curved his lips. He relaxed, focusing completely on her. “Forgive me. Your choice of wording combined with our location took me aback.”



“I didn’t expect to have to discuss such things with you,” she muttered. “I apologize if I say things incorrectly. But I must know if you can refrain from provoking me. Does the thoroughness of our presentation have to be established with the tactics you’ve utilized thus far or—”



“—or do I indeed want to mate with you?” Jasper’s smile widened. “Is that what you want to know?”



Eliza nodded briskly, feeling anxious even though her question was perfectly sound considering their circumstances.



He squeezed her hand where it rested on his forearm. “You are wondering if I’m manipulating the performance I want out of you, or if my blood is so hot for you I cannot bear for you not to feel similarly?”



She averted her gaze. Described in that way, her query sounded ridiculous. Jasper was a dazzlingly handsome man. Even now, as she looked around the room to avoid his stare, she found a number of women ogling him or casting surreptitious glances in his direction at regular intervals. He could have any woman he wanted. One who was charming and flirtatious. Knowledgeable.



“Miss Martin.”



Eliza turned her attention to the man who intruded on their conversation. “Sir Richard,” she managed. “How lovely to see you here.”



Sir Richard Tolliver was an average man, neither young nor old, neither tall nor short, neither portly nor lean. His hair was a soft brown and his eyes a gentle green. He was quiet and unassuming, one of the least aggressive of her suitors.



“You remember my sister, Miss Amanda Tolliver,” he said, with a sidelong glance at Jasper.



“Yes, of course. Good to see you, Miss Tolliver.” Eliza made the appropriate introductions offhandedly. But when Jasper bowed over Miss Tolliver’s hand and the young lady blushed to the roots of her lovely dark hair, Eliza found her mood altering drastically.



Sir Richard offered a tight smile. “I see now why you declined my invitation to escort you to the exhibition, Miss Martin. I did not understand you had a prior engagement.”



Eliza realized with some surprise that he was upset. He felt slighted, although that hadn’t been her intent. She’d simply been aware that accepting his offer of escort would lead to spending hours in the company of someone with whom she had nothing in common. She thought it best to spare them both the awkwardness.



That was not, however, the explanation she could give. Conversing in society had little to do with truth. It was more about keeping everyone’s feelings as neutral as possible. For many, the truth was not a neutral topic.



She was considering how she could reply in an acceptable manner when Miss Tolliver batted her thick lashes at Jasper. Eliza froze with her mouth partially formed around a word. Suddenly she knew precisely how Tolliver felt, and how little sound reasoning had to do with it.



What a morass the art of courting was.



“Will I see you tonight at the Lansing rout, Sir Richard?” she asked.



“If you will be there, Miss Martin, I will certainly attend.”



“If you are obliged, I should like to save the first waltz for you.”



Tolliver’s sudden grin lit up the room. Eliza was slightly frightened by its fervency.



“What about you, Mr. Bond?” Miss Tolliver asked. “Will you be at the Lansing rout? Shall I save a place on my dance card for you?”



Eliza felt Jasper’s forearm tense beneath her fingers. When he said nothing, she realized he didn’t know how to reply. The truth he’d shared so readily with her was not one he wished to share with others.



“Mr. Bond was injured yesterday,” she lied. “His horse was ill-mannered and stepped quite harshly on his foot. While he can walk, dancing is out of the question for now.”



“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Miss Tolliver did indeed look crestfallen. “I hope you recover quickly, Mr. Bond.”



Jasper nodded and bid the siblings farewell. He led Eliza away with a briskness that belied the injury she’d invented for him. He drew to a halt when they reached a corner and glared at the painting in front of him.



His foot tapped against the floor. “The dance you gave to Tolliver was mine.”



Eliza was confused. “But you do not dance.”



“Moments ago,” he said in a low, biting tone, “you were asking if I wanted to be inside you and the next, you’re encouraging another man’s obvious interest in you.”



Astonished by the physical response she had to his choice of phrasing, she stared at the painting he was directing his ire at and tried to piece an explanation together.



“I was not encouraging him,” she said carefully. “I was commiserating with him. I collected that he was perturbed and perhaps felt…marginalized.”



Jasper glanced at her with a sardonically raised brow. “You know how he feels, but not how I feel. Care to explain why?”



“Miss Tolliver is clearly taken with you, and she’s lovely and charming. As many times as we’ve met before, today was the first time I resented those qualities in her.”



He grew very still.



Unsure if that was a positive or negative sign, she pressed on. “Sir Richard must feel similarly in regards to you. How can he compete with a man such as yourself? I vow there isn’t another male in the world who is as stunning. In the face of what must have been a crushing feeling of inferiority, offering a dance seemed the least I could do.”



Jasper’s face gave away none of his thoughts. After a tor-turously long delay, he said, “You have no notion that the room just tilted on its axis, do you?”



Chapter 5



Jasper watched as Eliza’s gaze darted around the Exhibition Hall in search of proof to support his claim. A rush of tenderness tightened his chest and prevented him from explaining.



Eliza returned her attention to him. “Lady Collingsworth doesn’t look as if something so phenomenal has happened.”



“Ah, Eliza,” he murmured, warmly amused. “Lynd said you would drive me mad, and he was correct, as usual.”



Her pretty mouth pursed into a tight line. “I begin to feel as if I am lacking wits,” she groused. “I have been at a loss to understand anything since I woke this morning.”



He found her confusion poignantly endearing. He wished he could reply to her in a gentler manner, but he was not a gentle man. As surprising as her use of “mate” had been earlier, he found it brilliantly apt now. His desire for her was at a fever pitch, his blood hot and his patience far too thin. If they’d been alone, he would be fucking her now. Mating with her. Pumping his cock so deep into her she would have no doubt that her public performance was the furthest thing from his mind.



Rolling his shoulders back, he tried to ward off the tension building there. He could not talk about sex right now, even to say that he wanted it with her. The words would be too coarse, his vehemence too frightening. And he wasn’t yet sure that she wanted it with him. Her body did, yes. Watching her melt for him in the barouche had been singularly the most arousing experience of his life. But she had been overwhelmed and not thinking properly at the time. Eliza needed to be cognizant of her decision to take him to her bed if he was to have her as he wanted.



She watched him now, wary and unsure.



He urged her to walk with him, needing to be in motion. It didn’t escape his notice that she had him in this state by speech alone. Not with a look or a touch, but with innocently spoken, artlessly truthful words.



“I want you to teach me how to dance,” he said.



“Truly?” The excitement in her voice was its own reward.



“It’s the only way to make restitution for giving my dance to someone else.” And another way to add a block of time with her to his schedule.



Her smile was a sight to behold. “I must warn you, I am not a very good instructor of anything. I lack patience and become easily frustrated.”



“I am a speedy learner,” he assured, intending to make the lessons worth her while in many ways.



“Very well, then. I would be happy to try.”



Returning his attention to the portraits on the wall, Jasper acknowledged that he enjoyed the exhibition. He had not expected to, as he wasn’t fond of crowds. The room was almost full and the hum of conversation was a steady but not-unpleasant drone. He should not have felt comfortable there. He was a mongrel among purebreds, yet Eliza made him feel as if he was right where he should be. At the very least, right where he wanted to be.



“Which is your favorite so far?” she asked.



“I think that one.” He pointed to an image of a galloping horse. “I can almost feel the wind when I look at it.”



“Mine is this one.” She pulled him forward and singled out a portrait of a dancing nymph with flowing hair and ribbons. “The skill involved in turning mere paints into an image that looks as if it can walk right off the canvas…I am awed by it.”



“I’m glad you came with me and not with Tolliver,” he said.



She squeezed his arm. “I am, too.”



They continued around the room at a leisurely pace, pausing every few feet to take in the many paintings occupying the soaring walls.



After an hour, Eliza begged to be excused. “Will you be comfortable if I leave you alone for a moment?”



Jasper wanted to say no. “Only a moment.”



She moved away. He expected her to speak to someone she knew or visit with Lady Collingsworth for a time. Instead, she left the room. He moved to follow, wanting to ensure her safety by keeping her in sight.



Lady Collingsworth deftly intercepted him.



“My lady,” he said, with a slight inclination of his head.



She wrapped her hand around his forearm and waved him forward with her fan. “I would like to become better acquainted with you, Mr. Bond.”



“Oh?” He looked toward the exit in time to see Sir Richard Tolliver and his sister make their egress.



“Eliza’s mother and I were dear friends. After Lady Georgina’s passing, I took Eliza under my wing. I couldn’t love her more if she was my own child.”



“She is an exceptional young woman.”



“Not so young,” she said, eyeing him. “She has had six failed Seasons.”



“By her choice. And she is young in more than her years. She has an almost childlike comprehension of emotions.”



“You sound as if you know her well, yet I have never heard of you prior to yesterday. Why are you here, Mr. Bond? And when will you return to the place whence you came?”



They rounded a corner of the room and Jasper considered his reply. A hastily spoken falsehood could breach Eliza’s privacy. “I am here on business.”



“You are in trade?” Her ladyship pulled away enough to facilitate studying his attire. “Successfully, it would appear.”



Jasper smiled. “Is it a mark in my favor that I am not in pursuit of Miss Martin’s fortune?”