Shayla Black Read online

  “To remind you that you owe me.”

  “You will never let me forget, I’m certain.”

  He reached for his hat and placed it on his head once more. “Don’t tarry too long, Maddie. My patience is running thin.”

  #

  “I can only threaten Maddie so much,” Brock said to his father with a sigh as he entered the study in his town house.

  “Not bending, is she?” Jack grinned.

  Brock scowled as he removed his coat. “Not an inch. I don’t remember that woman being so stubborn. She despises me. Hell, every time I’m in the same room with her daughter, Maddie sends the girl away like she’s afraid I’m going to eat her for a snack.”

  Jack chuckled. “You really have made a good impression.”

  “Thank you. I needed your reminder that I’ve bumbled this.” Brock raked a hand through his hair. “I have no idea how to make that woman marry me. My threats are losing their power.”

  “Would you really throw Maddie and her daughter in debtor’s prison?” Jack asked over a glass of port.

  “Of course not.”

  “Maybe she knows your threats are hollow.”

  “I don’t think so. She looks terrified when I mention it.” He sighed. “And she fears me, too. I see it in her eyes.”

  Jack rose and poured himself another port. “That’s your problem.”

  “What?” He frowned. “Maddie has to believe I mean business, or I will never persuade her to marry me.”

  “All you’ve done with your threats, son, is put her back to the wall. She’s desperate and defensive. I don’t think it was wise.”

  “Advice on women from the man who never remarried?”

  Jack sent him a slow smile. “That hardly means I’ve spent all my time alone.”

  “Spare me the details.” Brock held up his hand to ward off further conversation on that topic. “What would you have done, then? I could hardly kneel at the woman’s feet and ask for her hand. That approach failed once. Five years ago, she thought me beneath her. Her assessment has not changed one whit.”

  Bitterness surged like the tide in a storm, and Brock wondered why the hell Maddie’s opinion mattered. She had made herself perfectly clear when she had refused to marry him—twice. This was not about his heart, but his future.

  “What have you accomplished with threats except to reaffirm her bad opinions?” asked Jack rhetorically.

  Brock had no answer for that. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “Since you can’t go through her wall of defense, you must go underneath it.”

  Sighing, Brock stared at his father. “I’m trying to court her, do the thing properly. She’s not swayed.”

  “Seduce the girl, then. Ply her with wine, kisses, and compliments. Buy her clothes and jewels and nights on the town. Wear down her resistance. She will eventually accept, I’m certain.” Jack smiled. “You’ve never been one to take no for an answer.”

  Through the evening, Brock couldn’t get his father’s advice out of his head.

  Each midnight, I will lie here and wait for you.

  He lifted a glass of port to his mouth and consumed the contents in one long swallow, hoping to drive the echo of Maddie’s voice from his head.

  I need you to be my lover.

  Wonderful, a new torment to add to his tortured mind and near-bursting body.

  Gritting his teeth, Brock rose and opened the window in his bedroom, taking in huge draughts of the chilly air, the soft scents of grass and impending rain, spring flowers...and Maddie.

  Damn, her voice rang inside him, the feel of her mouth beneath his like a drug, addicting him. He could not let her go.

  But he needed a new plan.

  Drawing in another rush of sharp air, Brock considered Jack’s suggestion. How was he to seduce her without taking her as a mistress?

  In the next moment, the answer came. He could do that—and he knew precisely how. Turning from the window, he called for his cloak and his horse, purpose driving an impatient surge inside him.

  Outside, the crisp, dark night sharpened his senses. The moon’s glow and mysterious fog heightened his fever.

  He could reach St. John’s Wood shortly after midnight, where Maddie would be, waiting just for him and his plans.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Midnight chimed from the tiny clock beside her, startling Maddie. Dazed, she lie curled on the green sofa, an old copy of a Fanny Burney book of Aunt Edith’s flat across her chest.

  Brock wasn’t coming. Maddie sighed. He had no intention of becoming her lover to free her from debt. Defeat and disappointment congealed with fear in her stomach to form a tight, heavy ball.

  What would she do now?

  Maddie sat up and set the book aside. Prickly panic returned when she thought of facing either the Fleet or marriage. Rubbing cold hands together, she again pondered her options, but they hadn’t changed. The Fleet or marriage. Both were hell.

  Rising, she paced, nerves stretched taut and brittle. Brock claimed this marriage was a social move for him, but his actions smacked of revenge, as if he somehow blamed her for marrying in the face of his abandonment. That, coupled with his ruthlessness, meant he could strip away every ounce of the independence, peace, and security she had guarded zealously since Colin’s death.

  He could do far worse to Aimee.

  Since she would become his child legally, he could mistreat Aimee simply because he believed the girl to be Colin’s offspring. He could do anything he pleased to the child. Beat her, starve her, even send her away or sell her. Maddie might never see her daughter again—and legally, she could do nothing.

  Even if he didn’t harm Aimee, it would only be a matter of time before he realized that he was her father. Who knew what he’d do then? Poison Aimee against her for spite? Brock was persuasive enough—and wealthy enough—to do it.

  A tight fist of fear squeezed her gut. This plan to become his mistress, her only means of avoiding both Fleet and marriage, must work.

  Behind her, a creak sounded, followed by the click of the door latch closing.

  Maddie dashed to the foyer to find Brock in the portal, wind-blown and silently imposing. He wore a hint of a smile, as if he hid a secret. Heat rolled off of him in waves.

  “You’ve come,” she whispered, taking tentative, trembling steps in his direction.

  “Yes.” His gaze burned into her, pinning her in place as he removed his greatcoat and gloves. “I want to touch you, Maddie. I want to touch you in ways you’ve never been touched.”

  His bold confession sent heat bursting through her. Her stomach clenched with desire. She swallowed against her fluttering pulse.

  No. She had invited—encouraged—Brock’s desire so he might fall prey to her wiles, not so she could succumb to his. She couldn’t afford to lose her head, as she had with their last kiss.

  Maddie drew in a deep breath. “That is why I’m here, to be your mistress, to please you—”

  “I will not make love to you until we are wed, Maddie. But I want to touch you now.”

  Before she could utter another word, Brock closed the distance between them in two long strides and took her face in his hands. He slanted his mouth over hers and melded his lips to hers, thrusting his way inside and taking. Desire charged her as they shared breaths. Something dark and musky rose from Brock and sent her senses soaring. Moaning, she mindlessly clutched his shoulders and kissed him back.

  With bold insistence, he parted her lips again. His tongue swept through her mouth possessively, as if he had every right to be there and always had. Her knees gave way, even as her mind screamed that she must think, must persuade him to become her lover—without losing another piece of her soul to this man.

  Without warning, he tore his mouth from hers and rested his forehead against hers, his ragged breaths falling warm and hard upon her lips.

  “Brock?” she whispered. “Make love to me now.”

  “Shhh.” He stroked her face with a thumb acro
ss her cheek. “I gave into temptation once before. I will not do it again. I’ll only have you as a wife.”

  Maddie cleared her throat against a sudden lump of emotion. Moisture stung her eyes. She blinked it away.

  How badly the girl in her wanted to believe Brock’s beguiling speech. How sweet—and dangerous—to give in to the fantasy for even a moment that he cared for her, had always cared.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford the price of that castle in the sky.

  “We are adults now, free to do as we please. We need not be bound by vows to enjoy one another, just desire.”

  “But vows are what I want, Maddie.” He caressed her shoulders with gentle hands. “You are what I want. All I want.”

  Maddie’s breathing turned uneven, her pulse accelerated. What if he meant that, even a little?

  It did not matter. She refused to belong to any man ever again.

  Her hands shook as she lifted them away from his chest and stepped back. “I’m here to be your mistress, Brock. Take me now, tomorrow, and every other night for six months. During that time, I will be yours completely. But I will not marry you.”

  Brock’s jaw tightened as he grasped her arms and pulled her close, under his raw, demanding stare. Her heart stuttered at the feel of his solid body—and thick arousal—heavy against her.

  “You will marry me, Maddie. I will come here every night to seduce you until you do. But I won’t make love to you until you are my wife.”

  The hard glitter in his eyes told Maddie he was deadly determined. He was going to seduce her without making love to her? A dozen half-complete images flashed through her mind of Brock holding her, all wanton, each making her yearn for his touch. Her skin flushed with a damp sheen of desire that made her hot all over. She stared at him, intrigued, entranced. And terrified that he could succeed.

  Forcing herself to look away, Maddie gathered her composure. Life had taught her hard lessons in the last five years, primary among them was to never give over her self-control. Maddie dug deep to find her bravado.

  Smiling in suggestion, she traced his mouth with her fingertip. “Let’s not complicate our arrangement. Stay here and take pleasure in me.”

  Brock grabbed her hand, forcing her questing finger away. “I won’t do that, Maddie.”

  “You can’t mean to come here night after night to touch me, yet not share my bed,” she challenged.

  “I’ll do just that until you marry me.”

  Maddie tried not to gape. Men did not take waiting for sex well or happily. Why was Brock so willing to be patient? “I will have you in my bed soon.”

  His brow raised, intrigue stamped all over his face. Maddie wished she could bite her words back.

  “You’re challenging me?” He laughed, his smile not at all nice. “Yes, I like the idea of a wager. It would be very interesting.”

  His implications horrified Maddie. “But—”

  He went on as if she had not objected. “If I...persuade you to marry me prior to consummation, you will be my wife. If, by chance, you are able to seduce me into your bed before marriage, I will take you as a mistress for six months and forgive your debt.”

  Color flushed her face. Her heart rushed through her body. Had he suggested some sort of wager? “Brock, I do not—”

  “And to win, you must seduce me into intercourse, Maddie. Anything else is merely...play.”

  Her body heated another fifty degrees. Anything else? Did men have desires beyond the normal manner of congress? If so, she had little idea what they might be.

  “Absolutely not! Private matters like this should not be fodder for games.”

  “Why not?”

  “Touching me at all is like agreeing to make me your mistress. I’ve let no one touch me since Colin died, so I’m in no habit of taking lovers upon my whim.”

  His hands fell to her hips, fingers sinking into her flesh as he pulled her close. The blooming of warmth in her belly surprised her, and she bit into her lip to hold in her gasp.

  “That argument doesn’t follow, Maddie. How many men take a mistress without sharing her bed? And how can you call me your lover if I don’t make love to you?”

  Maddie couldn’t totally disagree. Still, his wager sounded too dangerous. They would grow close, very nearly intimate, yet she would be no nearer to freeing herself of debt unless he possessed her body completely. Could she take such a scandalous chance? Could she entice him to become her lover in every way when she knew so little about seduction?

  The hells of marriage and the Fleet looming convinced her that she had little choice, except to try.

  “Agreed,” she whispered finally.

  Brock hesitated an instant before releasing her. A terrible vulnerability assailed her. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if that would save her from his searing gaze, which seemed to unravel her composure, layer by layer. He could never know how she feared the effect his nearness had on her self-control. He would have no hesitation in using it against her.

  “So will you return here tomorrow night?” She fought to keep the tremor from her voice.

  “Why wait?”

  With wide, wary eyes, she watched as he pulled out a Yorkshire bow back chair from behind the small breakfast table and sat. He bounced as if testing its weight before he raised his gaze to her, wearing a supremely satisfied grin.

  “Come here,” he said, crooking his finger.

  She didn’t like his mood shifts, from tender to challenging, from serious to playful, any more than she liked his actions. Did he want her on that chair? In his lap? The thought filled her with a sharp clench of forbidden need.

  “No,” she said automatically.

  His generous mouth turned down. “That’s not the answer a good mistress would give.”

  “You said you did not seek a mistress.”

  “But if that’s what you seek to be, should you not act the part? You cannot seduce me into bedding you if you are not close enough for me to touch.”

  He was right, she realized with panic. She was going to have to let him put his hands on her body, in any manner he desired. At any time. The thought made her feel faint. Yes, she had always known he would do so if he made her his mistress, but she had assumed that would be about creating his pleasure, not seducing her until she experienced her own.

  “Come here,” he repeated sternly.

  Maddie’s body thrummed at the mere sound of his voice. It filled her with images of his hands on her aching breasts, his mouth clinging to her own. That self-reliant core in her resisted the idea of leading herself like a lamb to his slaughter.

  But she had no choice.

  Trembling, she took slow steps toward him, feeling oddly like a soldier going to battle. Her pulse pounded in her ears with each step, closer, closer, until she stood inches away.

  Without a word, he knelt at her feet. His fingers brushed her ankles, her quaking calves and thighs, as he lifted her skirts and snowy petticoats about her hips, nearly exposing her to his hungry gaze. Cool air and the heat of his stare hit her as he sat again, skirts in hand, and watched her face.

  With little effort, Brock lifted her and slid her onto his lap, legs spread on either side of his hips. Maddie gasped. He did not pause until her skirts billowed around them, fabric rustling like a lover’s whisper.

  He brought her tight against his erection. She gasped. The crush of his steely shaft pressing against her feminine mound through his breeches flooded her with sharp yearning. He smelled of night and insistence and musk as he clasped her hips and held her close. Wriggling for freedom only caused a riot of sensation to burst between her legs. The ache there turned tighter, more insistent.

  Blast it, Colin had always called her cold and unresponsive. Why wasn’t she now?

  His steady green stare touched her mouth, then caressed on the swells of her breasts. Everywhere his gaze lingered turned hot until she was burning up from the inside.

  “I want you,” he murmured.

  She r
esponded to his husky assertion like a flower, yearning to open for him, accept the pleasure his touch promised. She tried to remember all the reasons she must fight giving into these sensations and focus on enticing him into her bed.

  Brock dragged a fingertip over her cheek, down the side of her neck, to play at her décolletage. “I want to strip you, hold you, fondle you, fuck you.”

  As she gasped at his harsh language—and the sultry images—his mouth closed over hers, a sizzle of insistence burning away at her ability to think, to breathe. She tasted him everywhere, inhaled him as she drew in a sharp breath, felt him beneath her, around her. His hands cupped her backside, pulling her even closer. His kiss blistered, his tongue entering her mouth with a demand that made her boneless. She moaned into his mouth, fingers curled around the velvet stone of his shoulders.

  Again, he took her mouth feverishly—then reached for the buttons at her back. The dress yielded quickly, and he pushed it off her arms, down her body. Seconds later, his hot hands cupped her breasts through her thin chemise, her flesh pushed up by her corset. He thumbed her nipples slowly, unerringly. Tingles tore through her body, making her pant and ache. She couldn’t hold in her moan.

  She had never felt like this, so wanton, so needy. Maddie arched toward his touch, silently begging for more.

  Brock’s fingers found the corset’s strings. “You wear too many damn clothes, Maddie.”

  Her mind registered his breathy words as he removed the cinching garment, then yanked on the faded pink ribbon of her chemise. The delicate garment fell down her shoulders, to her upper arms, gaping open across her breasts. Before she could utter a word, he shoved it aside impatiently and fastened his hot mouth over her bare breast. He suckled hard, tongue teasing her nipple. She felt a jolt of ecstasy curl in her belly, the crash between her thighs. Her womb clenched. He filled her with an ecstasy she’d never known.

  Her world tilted crazily, his tantalizing tongue swirling about her sensitive flesh. As his mouth moved to her other breast, Maddie blindly reached out for support in her off-kilter world. Her tense fingers found the chair’s curved back. She grabbed tight, the cool wood her anchor as desire overwhelmed.