Chapter Twenty-Two
“Andrew, we ought to talk.”
In his experience, these words didn’t bode well coming from a female. But with Primrose tucked against his chest, the carriage swaying in a lulling rhythm, he couldn’t rouse the energy to get his guard up. The aftermath humming through his veins added to his satisfaction with life in general.
Making love to Primrose had been a revelation—and this was saying something given the extent of his carnal knowledge. In all the years of bedding women, not once had he felt anything close to what he’d shared with Primrose. With her, the act of desire had been transformed into something beyond the physical. Something beyond an exchange. Something… rare.
The image of her marked with his seed made his cock stir. God, he wanted to have her again, never mind that she’d made him come harder than he ever had just a half-hour ago. With Primrose, he was as randy as a greenling.
His arm tightened around her. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“There are things we should have discussed… before we made love.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “I don’t wish to mislead you.”
Some of his contentment faded. He knew, of course, what she wanted to say. For a little while, he’d swept reality under the carpet and lost himself in the pleasure of the moment.
Then his sense of irony came to the rescue. The tables had been turned, hadn’t they? He couldn’t count the number of times he’d said those exact same words to women who’d wanted more from him than just a casual tup.
“Tell me what you want,” he said simply.
“I can’t offer you more than what we just did.” Her eyes searched his. “Having a position in Society is important to me. And I won’t give it up. For anyone.”
He hated that he couldn’t give her the life she wanted. It was perhaps the closest he’d ever come to regretting the choices he’d made in life. But he was a realist.
“I understand,” he said.
“You do?” Her brow pleated. “You’re not… disappointed with me?”
“You’ve never lied about your priorities, sunshine. I respect that.” He cupped her cheek, running his thumb along her lower lip. “And I’m willing to accommodate your needs—as long as you’re willing to accommodate mine.”
“What are your, um, needs?” The dimness didn’t hide her blush.
“I plan to have you, Primrose,” he said huskily, “as often and in as many creative ways as possible. We’re going to explore this passion between us, and when we’re together, I expect you to hold nothing back. You’ll give yourself to me, and, in return, I’ll show you pleasure you’ve never even dreamt of. All of this, I’ll do with discretion.”
A breath puffed from her lips, her pupils dilating. Hell, he could see how his words aroused her. His cockstand butted against his smalls.
“You’d do that for me?” she said.
“Upon my honor. And I should think I’ve earned your trust.” He waggled his brows. “You’ll recall I took pains to protect you from unwanted consequences tonight.”
She looked confused. “By taking me home, you mean?”
Christ, it was easy to forget just how naïve she was. How much she hid behind that willful, worldly façade of hers. How, underneath her self-proclaimed wickedness, lay an astonishingly innocent heart.
“That’s not what I meant, but I’ll explain later,” he murmured. “In the meantime, you have my promise that I’ll safeguard your well-being and your reputation.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft. “So we have an understanding? That it’s, um, just sex between us?”
“I didn’t say it’s just sex for me,” he said evenly. “I will have no expectations, however, when it comes to marriage.”
“Oh.” Emotions flashed across her exquisite features: fear and longing, a welter of others.
He leaned over to kiss her before her thinking confused matters unnecessarily.
Her palms pushed against his shoulders. “There’s one more thing.”
Give the chit an inch… He arched a brow.
“Given all my demands, I know I don’t have a right to ask this too… but I’m going to anyway.” She drew a breath. “During the course of our affair, I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t have any lovers. Other than me, that is.”
Her request took him by surprise. Not the fact that she was possessive—he’d gleaned that early on and, indeed, relished it—but the fact that she thought an arrangement other than monogamy was possible between them. That she believed she would warrant anything less than his full commitment.
“I don’t share what’s mine,” he said unequivocally. “I wouldn’t expect you to either.”
“I’m so glad.” Relief shone in her eyes. “I feel very strongly about the issue.”
“Primrose, the fact that circumstances rule out marriage doesn’t lessen what is between us,” he said, studying her intently. “When I say I intend for us to explore the desire between us, I’m not referring to a meaningless tumble. I expect you to share not just your body with me but your mind and spirit as well.”
She hesitated. “And you’ll give me the same in return?”
“I’m going to give you more than I’ve given any woman,” he said huskily.
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” she breathed.
His lips twitched. He chucked her beneath the chin. “Greedy chit.”
“You don’t mind.” She dimpled at him. “When will I see you again?”
“I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll not risk your neck like you did tonight,” he said sternly.
“No one saw—”
“It’s more than that. My trade can be a dangerous one, and at present I’m at odds with a cutthroat. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire. You’ll wait until I can arrange a safe time and place for us to meet again.”
“A cutthroat?” Her eyes rounded. “Never mind my safety, what about yours?”
“Fret not,” he murmured, “I’ve survived worse than the likes of Malcolm Todd. But I’ll rest easier knowing that you’re not taking unnecessary risks.”
She chewed on her lip. “I have a suggestion.”
“While you’ve many talents, sweetheart, I doubt managing cutthroats is one of them.”
“Not about that, silly. About where we could meet.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were smoothing out her skirts. “In addition to the money, Daltry left me some properties, including a small house on Curzon Street. I was thinking of moving in—at least temporarily, until I figure out my future. I’ve been a burden on Polly and Revelstoke, and returning to my parents’ house doesn’t feel right either.”
“You should do what is best for you,” he said. “I’ll arrange our rendezvous regardless—that you can count on.”
“I think I’d prefer to be independent. I’m ready for the privacy of my own household.”
“Then you should have it.”
“I hope Mama and Papa agree with you. They still treat me as if I’m a little girl, incapable of making my own decisions. They’ll think this is just another of my harebrained schemes.”
She looked so disgruntled that he had to stifle a smile.
“Give them a chance to adjust to the change,” he said solemnly. “Act with maturity, and they will see you in a different light.”
Her gaze narrowed at him. “Are you saying I haven’t been acting with maturity?”
He kept his expression bland.
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Eloping with Daltry, avoiding Mama, and sneaking out of Polly’s house aren’t exactly the hallmarks of mature behavior, are they?” she said with wry candor. “It’s high time I faced my problems rather than run from them.”
Her insight surprised him—and yet didn’t. Primrose was one of the cleverest, bravest, and most honest people he knew. When she let her defenses down, she was, in a word, breathtaking.
“You amaze me,” he said.
Her smile was tremulous. “The feeling is mutual.”
The carriage slowed; they’d arrived at the Revelstoke residence.
“I’m sorry the night has to end,” she said, fiddling with a fold of his greatcoat.
“We’ll have many more nights ahead, sunshine.” He stole one last kiss. “Let’s get you back inside before someone notices.”
He opened the carriage door, vaulting down lightly. The moon slipped in and out of clouds, casting a ghostly light on the street lined with mansions. London was never quiet, but here in Mayfair the sounds were filtered by majestic trees and the intangible aura of wealth. Reaching up, he swung Primrose gently to the ground. He escorted her to the front door, and as he waited for her to dig the key out of her reticule, the staccato of hooves caught his attention.
He turned, glimpsed a dark figure approaching on horseback. The moon emerged, its cold light falling on the rider’s scarf-covered face, glinting off the metal in his outstretched hand.
Andrew leapt forward, tackling Primrose.
A deafening blast drowned out her surprised cry. Pain seared his arm as they hit the ground. Covering her body with his own, he shouted at his groom Jem, who jumped off the driver’s seat, firing shots after the vanishing rider.
Andrew rose, pulling Primrose up with him.
“Are you all right?” he demanded roughly.
“I—I think so.” She pushed a curl out of her eyes. “Did someone shoot at us?”
“Yes.” Seeing light beginning to flicker in surrounding windows, he issued terse commands to Jem to stand guard and hauled her toward the door.
“Goodness, your arm is bleeding! You’ve been shot,” she gasped. “Did one of your enemies do this?”
He flashed back to the angle of the gun, the deadly aim.
A chill seized his gut, and he said grimly, “No—one of yours.”