Everything Forbidden (14 page)

She shook her head. “No, no, but we must. I beg a moment of your time, my lord, where we could speak more privately.”

Ethan gazed across the room toward Miranda. She was standing with a man now. A handsome man, too. Ethan fisted his hands at his sides as unexpected jealousy rushed through him, especially when the bloke took a long look at Miranda’s cleavage.

Not that Miranda noticed his appraisal. She was hardly attending to her companion. She had noticed her mother’s approach and was staring at them now. Her blush was one of mortification rather than arousal. Damn it. Ethan hated that the desire he had cultivated was now dashed.

“My lord?” her mother repeated.

He sighed. “Yes, Mrs. Albright. Of course we may speak alone.”

He motioned for her to lead and followed her from the ballroom and down the hallway to a private study. As she shut the
door behind him, he looked around. What had once been a sophisticated room was now shabby. The fabric on the chairs was worn, the wallpaper peeling. All proof of what Miranda had already stated and he had guessed. Her father had put the family in dire straights.

“I apologize for the room,” Mrs. Albright said with a grimace. “Miranda has been quite stingy about maintaining the house. She tries to act like it is for our own good, but it is trying to have to endure her miserly ways. Especially when her father kept us in such a fine fashion. I’m certain her tightfistedness is unwarranted.”

Ethan pursed his lips. So this was what Miranda had to endure. These constant criticisms from her mother, who refused to face reality. No wonder Miranda always looked tired. No wonder she thought of her own clothing last.

“I’m sure your daughter is thinking of what is
best
for your family,” he said, trying desperately to meter his tone when what he wanted to do was tell her to shut her mouth.

Mrs. Albright shrugged. “Perhaps. Though I doubt Penelope would have had a Season at all if not for your intervention.”

Ethan clenched his fists. “As I said, we do not have to speak of that any longer. I will supply the funds for Penelope’s debut. Simply have the bills sent to me.”

Her eyes lit up and Ethan stifled a curse. This was going to be far more expensive than he had originally thought.

“You are too kind, my lord. And I feel we must do something to repay you.” Mrs. Albright stepped forward and rubbed her palms together. “I wonder if there is some deeper reason for your kindness than whatever debt you owed my darling Thomas?”

Ethan cocked his head. What was she on about? She certainly couldn’t know the truth about his bargain with Miranda. Dorthea Albright was mercenary, for sure, but he doubted she would approve of a daughter trading her virtue. At least, he hoped she wouldn’t.

“I have no idea what you could mean, madam.” He kept his tone bored and bland.

Mrs. Albright smiled conspiratorially. “Come now, Lord Rothschild. I wonder if perhaps you have taken a fancy to my darling Penelope? And you desire her to have a wonderful coming out so that Society can see what a gem you have uncovered?”

Ethan flinched, though he almost felt sorry for her, she looked so hopeful. “A fancy for Penelope? No, my lady. She is a lovely young woman, but I have no designs on her.”

Her smile fell. “Beatrice, then? Or Winifred.” Her brow wrinkled. “Winifred is a bit young for you, but I would approve the match in a few years.”

“I have no intentions to pursue any of them, I assure you,” he said. “There is no ulterior motive to my support of their Seasons.”

That was a lie, but he wasn’t about to reveal the truth.

Mrs. Albright gnawed her lip for a moment, as if she were reevaluating the situation. Then her smile returned. “Perhaps if you spend some time with them, your regard would grow. After all you’ve done, offering you the hand of one of my daughters is the least I can do.”

Ethan staggered back as panic gripped him. He had cultivated a certain reputation and that kept some portion of the groping Mamas away. But there were always others who gave his
status in Society more credence than his questionable character. Dorthea was clearly one of the second group, willing to overlook his less savory elements in trade for the privilege and power of his title.

“Penelope, Beatrice, and Winifred are all very lovely and accomplished,” she pressed.

He stared at her, still too shocked to reply. And then he realized something.

“You do not mention your eldest daughter, Miranda,” he said. “Except to criticize her.”

She sighed as she turned away. “Miranda is, of course, very pretty and proficient in many things. But she is too spirited and independent for her own good. She inherited the trait from her father, I fear.”

Ethan held back an unkind snort of laughter. Miranda was far more sensible and controlled than her father had ever been. “And you think I would not want her because of this?”

Mrs. Albright faced him with a shrug. “She has already turned down enough suitors that no man wishes to pursue her. But if she was the one you wanted to marry, I wouldn’t discourage you. As I said, she has many positive qualities.”

“Marry Miranda,” he repeated.

The words sank into him, buzzing through his system like a thousand bees. A marriage would mean Miranda would be his. There would be no parting after a sinful night of pleasure. No limitations to their time together. She would be his, not just for one night a week, not just for a month or a summer…
forever
.

The concept of forever had always shaken him and this time it was no different. A future with Miranda would be wonderful,
at least for a while. But then he would bore of her. She would be hurt, grow sullen. They would quarrel. He would be unfaithful. Perhaps she would be driven to drink like his mother had been.

That was no life for her.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Albright,” he said. “As charmed as I am by your offer, I have no intentions to wed.”

She drew back, stunned by that statement. “No intentions? But you are an Earl. You must marry to insure your legacy.”

He sighed. If he wanted any peace from this woman, he was going to have to play up that reputation he’d created for himself. Enough to keep her away, but insure she would continue to take his money.

“My legacy, dear lady,” he drawled. “I’m sure my legacy will be continued through some means. Why would I need
legitimate
heirs? I can enjoy everything this title brings me, and leave the insuring of the legacy to my younger brothers or a cousin.”

Mrs. Albright’s eyes widened and her face turned red as a tomato. “Why, I never! Excuse me.”

She turned on her heel and stomped away to the door. When it slammed behind her, Ethan was left alone. Yet it gave him little satisfaction because it meant his only company was his troubling thoughts.

“Mama!” Miranda hissed as she stepped out of a doorway near the parlor where her mother had been conversing with Ethan.

Dorthea turned and looked at her. Oh, dear. This wasn’t good at all. Miranda recognized that look. Her mother was offended, outraged, and
she
wasn’t going to escape hearing all about it.

“What were you doing?” Miranda whispered as her mother
came to stand before her, huffing and muttering. “I saw you take Lord Rothschild aside.”

“Lord
Rothschild, indeed,” her mother said, foot tapping wildly as she tossed a glance over her shoulder at the closed parlor door. “The man is nothing more than a cad!”

“What happened?” Miranda groaned. “Or do I even want to know?”

“I simply wanted to thank him for his generosity,” her mother huffed. “And make him an offer of one of your sisters’ hands in marriage as a reward.”

Miranda’s heart sank. “What? You didn’t truly offer him a marriage!”

“Why not?” Her mother tilted her head as if she didn’t understand the problem. “I believed him to be a fine catch for Penelope, especially, since she is coming out into Society. I even thought he might have helped us in order to gain access to your sister. But he disabused me of that idea quickly. He said he had no interest in
any
of my daughters!”

Miranda blinked as pain roared out of no where and hit her straight in the stomach. “He said that, did he?”

“Yes.” Her mother glared behind her again. “He admitted he intends to be a complete wastrel while he is Earl and not even marry and produce heirs! Can you imagine? What a waste of a good title.”

Miranda nodded, but she was hardly attending. She was still reeling. She knew Ethan had said that to put her mother off. He would never be so cruel as to say it so harshly to her face, but it was a reminder of his intentions, nonetheless.

“I would have given him a good piece of my mind, if he wasn’t
providing us with so much money. And it should be
more
after that little encounter.” Her mother scowled. “Well, we should return to the ball. No use wasting any more time on the man.”

Miranda shook her head. “You go, Mama. I will join you shortly. I—er—I wanted to speak to the footman about something.”

Her mother was already looking toward the ballroom. “Very well. Just be careful of yourself. Who knows when that horrid man will come back into the hallway. I wouldn’t want you being compromised by that ne’er-do-well.”

“Of course, Mama. I will be careful,” she whispered, staring at the parlor door.

She waited until her mother had disappeared back down the hallway before she straightened her shoulders and made for the parlor where Ethan remained.

He was probably disgusted by her mother. He likely didn’t want to see
her
at all. Yet, she couldn’t stay away. Despite her pain and embarrassment, there was still a tingling ache driving her to him. A need made more sharp and defined by the clip he had put on her clit hours before.

So she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Ethan?” Miranda said softly as she pushed the door closed behind her. The room was dim and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

Then she saw him. Ethan was standing by the window where he had apparently been looking outside. But now he faced her, eyes glittering in the light of the fire.

“Hello, Miranda,” he said, his voice alone a seduction to her raw senses. It seemed to dance over her skin and settle at her pulsing, empty sheath.

She stifled a moan and tried to remember why she’d come here. Focus. She had to focus.

“I—I’m sorry about my Mother,” she whispered, voice cracking as she moved toward him, almost against her will. Her ready body was overwhelming her resistant mind. “She told me what she said to you. She never should have tried to offer you a mar
riage as some kind of reimbursement for your sponsorship.”

She blushed as she thought of what she was already giving as “reimbursement.”

“I wanted to tell her that I was already earning more than enough for my ‘kindness’.” He smiled wolfishly as she neared him. “But I restrained all my worst urges. I didn’t think she would be happy to hear of our arrangement. Especially since she’s so foolish that she doesn’t see the truth when it is standing right before her.”

“The truth?” she repeated, forcing herself to stop just out of his reach. What truth? That he didn’t want
any
of the Albright girls? She tried to push the sting of that thought away and focus on his reply.

“Yes. Your mother is an utter fool, far worse than I first imagined,” he said. “She thinks her future lies with the proper marriage of one of your younger sisters, but that isn’t true. Her future lies with you.”

He pushed off the window sash and stalked toward her, circling her, but never touching her. His body heat and the subtle scent of his shaving soap surrounded her, taunting her with the very essence of him. She so desperately wanted to take his hand and force it to her breast. To rub against him like a cat. To steal his kiss if he wouldn’t give it to her.

But the things her mother said still rang too harshly in her ears.

“What do you mean her future lies with me?” she managed to ask on a shaky breath.

“I saw you tonight. Saw other men looking at you. You could easily find a way to get back in the good graces of the proper
gentlemen of the
ton
. You could choose to be wife or mistress to any one of them.”

Miranda swallowed, her throat suddenly constricted as her pulse beat wildly between her legs. His words were shocking, but she was determined not to react like some missish innocent. Affecting boredom, she said, “Could I? Perhaps I should try once our bargain is over.”

He stopped moving and she realized she’d made a mistake in goading him. She’d said that to hurt him as she had been hurt by his statement that he wanted nothing to do with any of the Albright women. Instead, she had stoked that possessiveness that lurked just below the surface. The one that was darkening his face now.

“When you were with them, did you think of that clip I put on you?” he asked, voice harsh.

Miranda’s first reaction was to ignore the question and bolt for the door, but it was too late for that. He wouldn’t let her go. He’d have her in his arms before she made it two steps. There was no choice but to answer and answer honestly, no matter how hard it was to do so.

She nodded as heat filled her cheeks. “Of course I was thinking of it. You knew I would, that’s why you gave it to me. You wanted to remind me of you, no matter who I was with or what kind of benign topic we were discussing. It was a constant reminder of—” She broke off.

“Of what?” He slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her closer. “Of me? Of my cock buried deep within you? Of the way you cry out my name when you come?”

She nodded, her motions jerky as she tilted her face up for a
kiss. She ached for it now, and feared she would do almost anything to have even a brief taste of what she craved.
That
was the power he wielded over her.

“And did you think, for even one moment that any other man could ever make you as satisfied as I do?” he asked, harsh as his lips hovered just above hers.

She parted her lips and a jagged cry escaped them. “No,” she admitted.

His mouth came down and crushed hers, punishing her with his rough kiss. Pleasuring her with it. Her body pulsed wildly, so close to orgasm even with this comparatively mild touch. She groaned, arching against him, trying to give herself the relief she’d been eager for since that afternoon.

“And you don’t want any other man but me?” he urged, pushing her up against the window until her backside hit the glass and she felt the coldness through her satin gown. For a brief moment, she realized someone from below might see them, but she didn’t care. If anything, that idea thrilled her even more.

“It has always been you,” she admitted on a broken breath. “There’s never been anyone else, there will never be anyone else that will make me
want
like this. Please, please!”

Her declaration seemed to surprise him. He drew back, his gaze still hot, but now startled. But then his mouth covered hers again and he cupped her backside, lifting her up, spreading her legs.

She cried out with pleasure as her nerve endings fired out of control. She had been stimulated by his gift for so many hours now that she was wild with desire. So needy that it frightened her.

“Take me,” she groaned against his ear, pressing hot kisses to the straining column of his neck. “Please just make me come. I need to come.”

His movements grew jerky at her request. He yanked at her skirt, bunching it up and up until the cool air in the room brushed over her sensitive skin. She was so utterly aware of every touch, every change of temperature, everything.

But especially him. Mere brushes of his knuckles as he shoved her chemise aside were enough to make her hips buck wildly. His breath on her skin made her so aware of how swollen and wet and ready she was.

And then, just as she was about to burst, he stopped moving.

“You’re wearing it,” he moaned.

She panted, uncertain for a moment what he meant. Then it dawned on her. “The chemise? Of course. You gave it to me.”

His gaze jerked up and a small, sinful smile tilted his lips. “Later, I am going to strip you down and see you in it. But for now—”

He yanked at his trousers, unhooking buttons with frustrated groans. And then he sprang free, fully erect and ready. She licked her lips. She’d never wanted him more. She didn’t want tenderness, she just wanted him. Heavy and hard and fast. She wanted him to take her over the edge. To own her. Maybe it wouldn’t be forever, in fact she knew it wouldn’t be. But it would be tonight and no one could take that away from her.

He cupped her and she cried out.

“Dripping,” he moaned. “So ready.”

“Please,” she whispered, arching toward him. She didn’t care that she was begging. “Please, please, please.”

“Yes, right now.” He positioned himself and pushed up. Her wet sheath offered no resistance and he filled her to the hilt in that one driving thrust.

Miranda clung to his still-clothed shoulders as pleasure threatened to make her lose consciousness. Her vision blurred around the edges and her entire body shook with the power of their joining. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, grinding his hips so that her swollen clit rubbed against him.

He locked gazes with her, never slowing his thrusts, then slipped his hand between them. He found the clip he had attached to her earlier and with a flick of his wrist, pulled it away. The reaction was immediate.

Miranda screamed as potent pleasure roared through her body. It was no longer focused on her clit, but spread throughout. The sensation made her toes tingle, it spread through her breasts, it made her arms heavy and useless. Her hips rocked against him and tears streamed down her face as her orgasm went on and on. And Ethan forced it to go on. He continued the swiveling motion of his hips, continued to stimulate her on every thrust. Brought her up and down the highs masterfully until she merely clung to him, exhausted as he drove on.

He held her tightly, remaining seated in her clenching, tremoring sheath as he pulled her away from the window. Turning, he carried her to the settee and laid her down where he covered her with his body.

He kissed her, deep and hot and claiming and she felt like her melting body was back on fire again. How could he do that to her? How could he keep her right on the edge at all times? The next wave crashed over her and all she could do was hold on, while
he forced more and more pleasure upon her with each stroke.

Ethan felt himself losing control as he drove into Miranda faster and faster. Her every orgasm made her sheath cling tighter, made her wetter and hotter. It was almost too much. But damn, it wasn’t enough, either. He just wanted to be inside of her, stay inside of her. Keep her as a part of him without having to argue or think about it.

He just wanted her. All of her.

She lifted her hips to meet him, squeezing as she did so and he exploded. He covered her mouth with his to stifle his roar of complete pleasure as he poured himself deep into her womb.

As the pleasure faded, his found his kisses becoming less forceful and more gentle. Her hands ceased to clench at him and began to stroke his back. Their union was no longer possession, but tenderness. He drew away in surprise, looking down at her. She was looking back at him with the same dazed astonishment, as if she had felt the shift as well.

He opened his mouth to say something when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He lifted his gaze and found himself looking at Miranda’s younger sister, Penelope. She stood in the parlor doorway, staring at the two of them, her mouth open in shock. Her emotions were reflected on every line of her face. She was both horrified and titillated. Aroused and frightened.

How long had she been watching them?

Suddenly, she realized he was looking at her. Their eyes locked and she covered her mouth before she turned on her heel and fled in silence.

“Ethan?” Miranda murmured from beneath him, reaching up to cup his cheek and draw his gaze back to hers. Her face
was soft in the firelight and her smile tentative and uncertain.

He stared at her as the full ramifications of what had just occurred hit him. Penelope had seen them. Her expression told him that she’d been watching long enough to know it was her sister that he was rutting with so passionately.

And now he had to tell Miranda. Break her heart and horrify her and make ugly an encounter that had been nothing but perfect a moment before. His chest tightened at the thought of hurting her like that.

He dropped a gentle kiss on her lips before he pushed away to his feet and began to fix himself. From the frown that creased her mouth, he could see his withdrawal confused and upset her.

“Miranda, I must tell you something,” he began, loathing what he was about to do.

She struggled to sit up, smoothing her gown. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, an emotion she tried to mask, but utterly failed. “What is it?”

He shifted as he fought to devise the least painful way to tell her this. But there was none.

“Miranda, someone…someone saw us just now,” he said softly.

She bolted to her feet and the color drained from her face so quickly that he reached out a hand to steady her in case she was about to pitch over in a faint. Her breath came in ragged, painful jags as she stared at him.

“Saw us?” she repeated, her voice dancing on the edge of hysteria. “From the window?”

He shook his head, still gripping her arm, though now he gentled the touch, smoothing his fingers along her soft skin in a lame attempt to sooth her. She looked down at his hand, watched
it stroke her arm. Her expression was clouded and unreadable.

“No, sweetheart, not from the window. I—I should have locked the door the moment I realized I wasn’t going to be able to wait to have you.” He sighed. “But my mind was a bit addled and I’m not used to doing such things outside of my own home or far less respectable houses with far less respectable women where being caught wouldn’t cause any problems except for a little embarrassment.”

She tilted her head. “You lost control?”

He flinched. That was the problem, wasn’t it? But he couldn’t deal with that now.

He touched her hand. “Someone opened the door, Miranda. I don’t know how long she watched us. When she realized I saw her, she ran away.”

Miranda’s full lips parted and her hand lifted to cover her swollen mouth.

“No,” she murmured, a pained groan through her fingertips as she stumbled back a few steps. “No, no. Who was it? Oh God, I am utterly ruined. Destroyed. My sisters, oh God, my sisters—their futures, oh no, no, no—”

“Shhh,” Ethan reached for her, wanting so much to draw her against his chest and comfort her. But she turned from his embrace and paced away, her painful moans continuing to hang in the room between them.

He pursed his lips, hurt that she didn’t want his reassurance. Wait, hurt? No. He didn’t get
hurt
. Certainly not by a woman like her. He pushed his shoulders back.

“It was Penelope who saw us. And judging from her expression, she had been watching long enough to know it was you I had against the window,” he said, cool and methodical.

Miranda spun on him and the horror and humiliation in her eyes was so palpable that it almost hit him like a physical blow. It was as he feared. Now this powerful encounter was a mistake in her eyes. Something she wished she could erase.

“Penelope?” she repeated. Her hands began to tremble. “No.”

The last was a mere whisper, but it was more pained than any of her earlier moans had been. Defeat came over her face, a hurt so deep and abiding that he felt it in his own gut. Along with something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for many, many years.

Guilt.

He
had done this to her. By offering her a devil’s bargain. By pursuing her over her sexual boundaries. By demanding her pleasure over and over again. By pushing his needs into her home and asking for more and more and more.