Somebody To Love (23 page)
Authors: Kate Rothwell
He had moved between worlds all of his life, but they had all welcomed him with open arms. If he felt displaced and out of tune with his world, it was due to something inside him, nothing that came from the outside.
And with an understanding so fierce it made him dizzy, he realized that she’d had to rely on strength that had never been tested in him. Not entirely true, of course. His own mother had walked away . . . left her family for the last time when he was twelve.
Griffin’s hand lay on his knee. He tapped his leg impatiently. Any weakness brought on by stumbling about in his memories served no purpose.
Araminta rose and shook out the skirt of her peach gown, which looked like pure gold in the soft glow.
“I think I will go to bed now, Griffin. I want to awaken before Oli—Elizabeth and tell her she must wait a while longer for her family. Unless we can find someone else? An aunt, perhaps.”
He pushed himself to his feet. “She should stay here with us. I do not trust Kane to allow her to go easily.” He walked to her and stroked the long line of her jaw and throat. “Araminta. Thank you.”
She took a step back, frowned and clasped her hands tightly together. “I’m not sure if we should have . . .”
Blast, she felt shame about the afternoon. “No one was harmed by what we did together. No one.”
She relaxed enough to raise her chin and smile. “At least you did not take notes.”
He didn’t tell her that he had no need for paper and pencil to memorize facts.
He touched her hand, such soft skin. She’d started the evening with gloves, of course, but had shed them, to his delight. He traced the fine bones of her wrist with his thumb, followed the graceful line to her elbow. When he raised her hand to his mouth, she tried to tug it away.
“I must . . . ah, will you go to bed now?” she whispered, and sounded almost fearful.
He wanted to say yes. If she lay in the next room, he’d find her. He continuously craved the passion they shared. When he touched Araminta, he lost the practiced skills he’d been taught years ago by the most accomplished courtesan in Paris. When her skin touched his, he lost himself.
Though he enjoyed the play in which they indulged, he still had an appetite for all of her. But he’d wait until he knew she was thoroughly receptive. He wanted to demand why she seemed to be worried again. Too caught up in some problems she’d invented, probably.
She was like a partner from one of those interminable country dances. Coming near, offering tantalizing bits of herself, then circling away and moving off to a distant corner.
Very well. He could learn to do a little dancing. He hadn’t bothered to before, but she was worth learning for. He’d play a new role. He’d discover the best way to woo her to his bed.
He’d planned to place one of her fingers into his mouth, and suck and nibble on it until she gave in with one of her wonderful throaty moans. But instead he turned over her hand and gave it a lingering kiss. “No. I shall work.”
The smile she gave him held relief and told him he’d given the right answer.
As they left the room, Griffin spotted a note on the silver salver. Annie, showing rare discretion, hadn’t barged into the closed parlor.
He ripped open the note and groaned as he read it. “It’s a telegram. The blasted senator and his blasted wife aren’t in Albany. They’re down in South Carolina, of all places. Galvin’s sent a wire down and will also arrange for someone to meet the senator before Kane does.”
Griffin crumpled the note and tossed it back onto the tray.
“Oh.” Araminta could not say more. She knew she should be disappointed for Elizabeth and worried for her own sake, but she was perversely glad to hear the news. She would not be leaving here tomorrow.
In the morning, Griffin prowled the rooms like a restless creature. Araminta was relieved when he announced that they would go to the park.
She pinned on her hat, pulled its flimsy veil over her face and gathered up her parasol and gloves. “The Madison Square Park?”
“I think we’ll venture all the way to Central Park,” he said dryly. Araminta wondered how long he’d stayed in New York. Surely the man who’d traveled his entire life would be on the verge of going mad, trapped here.
“But what about . . .” Elizabeth began.
“There is no need to worry about Mr. Kane.” He apparently did not notice her shudder as he pulled on hray kid-suede gloves. “We will be accompanied by some gentlemen. Nothing short of an army will be able to seize you.”
When the men in question met them in the hotel lobby, Elizabeth turned pale. Araminta could hardly blame her. Except for the genteel Mr. Williams, they seemed very much like the rougher types who’d guarded Kane.
“These are our friends,” Araminta reassured her in a low voice.
“They are not gentlemen. It will not do to be seen in the company of such coarse men,” Elizabeth whispered.
Araminta reflected that Elizabeth’s disagreeable comment must be considered a good sign. After all, it was another sign the girl was turning back into the society miss she’d once been.
Araminta had a plan. “You, Mr. Calverson, Mr. Williams and I will walk together. And the other gentlemen will merely stroll along nearby.”
The carriage ride with the four of them seemed too silent, but Araminta did not care about awkwardness once they climbed down from the carriage and entered the park.
They strolled past a stand of recently planted trees, out into the delicious sunshine. The pale green leaves, the tender grass made the world seem new again.
She’d spent so much time indoors or on city streets that the fresh green world intoxicated her. She forged ahead quickly, and Griffin kept up. He had a loose, easy stride, a man used to using his body for work, and she saw why Elizabeth thought of him as less of a gentleman than Williams, who had the city dweller’s hunched shuffle.
Elizabeth and Williams soon fell behind. She and Griffin paused to wait and admire a vista of a sloping hillside.
“I wish I could lie down and roll straight down the hill,” Araminta said under her breath.
“Hmmm.” Griffin’s hum was pure sensuality.
She rolled her eyes. Everything was a reference to bed sports to the man. “As I did when I was a child.”
“I imagine you were a hoyden as a girl.”
“I was a most ladylike and quiet child,” she informed him. “For several minutes together. On at least two occasions.”
He laughed, reached over and clasped her wrist lightly. As always, sensual warmth from his touch radiated through her, but she felt even more moved because it was a gesture of a friend.
They made their way to the terrace and the fountain. As they walked across the wide esplanade, Elizabeth at last looked up from the conversation she conducted with Williams. “Oh dear, there’re so many people about. Ought we be out in the open? Perhaps it would be best to stay under more cover?”
Griffin watched Miss Burritt scurry to a path among the trees, Williams in tow, Galvin’s men not far behind. As he and Araminta followed, he growled, “I am growing tired of the timid little creature.”
Araminta, attempting to open a ruffled blue parasol, stopped fidgeting with the thing in order to give him a severe frown. “She has been through an ordeal.”
He took the parasol from her, shoved it open and handed it back. “The ordeal is over. Where is her spirit?”
“You are judgmental. You can’t criticize someone until you know what she is experiencing.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You do.”
She stopped twirling the parasol that rested on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“Your impressive list of aults.”
“Oh. That. I was worse than judgmental. I do wish you’d forget that temper tantrum of mine.” She blushed and her mouth quirked into a brief smile. “But about Elizabeth, perhaps it is impossible for you to imagine her pain.”
Griffin snorted. “Why?”
“There is such a difference between you. She has been through a terrible experience and didn’t have your strength to begin with.”
“And you think I am incapable of understanding suffering?”
“You are a robust male who has every advantage possible: wealth, power, intelligence and, ah, an attractive appearance.”
The woman apparently did not believe him human. He might have been affronted, but she was so captivating in her pastel blue dress he had trouble taking offense. “Thank you for the comment concerning my intelligence and appearance. But I know that you long to add ‘arrogance. ’ ”
She shook a finger at him. “Do not attempt to change the subject. Yes, you know physical pain. But your spirit is so strong. A man with every advantage—what could he know of suffering?”
Loneliness, he almost retorted. But he hadn’t consciously endured that pain. He hadn’t been aware that he was lonely. Not until he met Miss Woodhall.
He saw that she watched him closely. Her question was not rhetorical. The blasted woman was digging again, pushing at him.
“You’re correct. Men with every advantage never experience any pain whatsoever,” he assured her. “Except upstart women who attempt to put them in their place.” Putting her off was still easy.
She laughed and began twirling the parasol again.
They watched the children going round in the goat carts. Williams strolled next to the Burritt girl, their heads bent close together as they talked.
Miss Burritt flinched when one of Galvin’s men came too close to her. Griffin, watching, muttered, “She needs to spend time with males so that she’ll see that we don’t all want to cause her pain.” He shook his head. “The silly goose. No, I believe she is more of a rabbit.”
“Yes, but such a lovely, soft rabbit.” Araminta gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no, stop laughing. She is my friend.”
“And you never mock your friends?”
“Of course, but not behind their backs. Or not often,” she added.
Griffin laughed again and was struck by how, lately, mirth bubbled through him almost continuously.
Araminta, of course. He repressed the urge to wrap her in his arms and, under the gaze of all these witnesses, thoroughly kiss her. To show his gratitude, of course.
That night Araminta couldn’t sleep. She wished she could hunt down Griffin and tell him how he’d robbed her of her peace by forcing her to fall in love with him—but even she could never be that bold.
A book might help her mind drift away from thoughts of the pestilential Griffin. She pulled on her wrapper and made her way through the dark, silent apartment. She paused at the door of the library, for a light flickered inside.
Griffin sat at the desk. He’d shed his jacket, waistcoat and neckcloth and had rolled up his shirtsleeves. In the halo of the candle burning at his desk, with his strong forearms revealed, he resembled a magnificent thief.
Papers of all sorts wre spread on the thick rug by his feet. She felt like an intruder. The well-kept suite rarely had any sign of disorder, and this little nest of work seemed as if he had created the only private area she’d seen.
Perhaps she could find a book and leave without bothering him. She crept into the room, and he showed no sign of noticing her until he leaned back and looked over at her. “Feeling restless?”
She shook her head. “You?”
“I need very little sleep. I am refreshed after six hours.”
He flipped through another pile of papers. “I saved this for you. My aunt has sent another candidate. Here.”
Araminta felt her hunched shoulders relax. This friendly conversation surely could not hurt her.
He handed her the picture of a delicate girl, with a tiny mouth curled into a smile.
“Oh.” She settled on an armchair on the opposite side of the wide desk, tucking her bare feet under her. “I wish I could find a flaw in this one.” And she also wished she hadn’t allowed the wistful note to creep into her voice.
He leaned his elbows on the ink blotter and steepled his fingers. “Yes, I happen to know Julie very well. We grew up together, and she has always been the most charming and lively creature. But . . .”
Araminta glanced up. “Well? What is wrong with her?”
“She prefers the company of other women.”
Araminta shrugged. “Many women are so. Elizabeth, for instance, is uneasy when around men.”
In the candlelight, his green eyes held a wicked gleam. “I mean in her bed.”
Araminta blushed and, as so often happened in New York, felt like an innocent. “But surely if she were to marry she would learn to like . . .” Her voice trailed off. She tightened her wrap across her front.
“If I were searching for a wife, I would not be willing to risk marrying Julie. I imagine she will continue to regard men as amusing but essentially repulsive creatures.” Griffin wore a grin, dimples and all. “So you think women should enjoy their time in bed? You express an unusual attitude.”
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