The Price of Pleasure (17 page)

A
fter waking, Grant lay with closed eyes, feeling more contented than he could remember. His body was pleasantly warmed, every muscle relaxed more than in years. His eyes slid open. He wasn't dressed? No, he lay naked under the morning sun trickling in, with Victoria resting her head on his chest.

He tensed as memories flooded his mind, exciting slivers of what they'd done. He'd never experienced more pleasure with another woman. Never imagined it could be like last night. And he hadn't even made love to her.

His brows drew together. No, he hadn't made love to her, not like she deserved, with pretty words and lingering kisses. He threw an arm over his face. Instead, he'd let her masturbate him until he spent. Disgust crept over him. Disgust for himself. For his actions. For hurting Victoria even if she didn't realize it.

His behavior with her was deplorable, and all he could think of was the next time he could taste her. He'd been right about himself. Once he crossed the line, it would be over for him. He was not the same man anymore, and he wondered if he could ever reclaim all that he'd worked so hard to garner.

He thought of his brothers, how they'd lost control. After one night with Victoria, he knew two things. He'd lost his restraint. And he didn't think he regretted it enough.

She obviously didn't either, because when she woke, she sighed happily against him. When he didn't move, she sat up and the towel bunched around her hips. Her hair was a wild tangle and her cheeks were pinkened. In fact, she was lovelier than he'd ever seen her. Being thoroughly touched suited her. She stretched her arms above her head like a cat in the sun, lifting her small, perfect breasts with the movement.

Wait…
“You're bruised.”

She looked down to see the faint smudges marring her breasts. She shrugged and then looked over his body, all of his body, with a satisfied grin on her face. Only then she didn't look satisfied at all.

“Victoria, I've hurt you.” As clinically as he could, he touched her breast. “I can see where my fingers were. This doesn't hurt?”

She scrunched up her lips and shook her head. “Not in the least. And I kind of like it…a map of where your fingers have been.” It was as if she purred the last.

Could this get worse? He was already ashamed of his treatment of her. He'd let her fondle him to release on the ground. He'd pleasured her with his mouth. He'd done things with her that he'd never even done with a courtesan.

She tugged at the corner of the blanket covering his lap, and God help him, he grew harder. When she leaned forward, he turned to meet her halfway, knowing the futility of fighting something he still craved so badly. No matter how much shame he struggled with. He was about to start the madness again….

They both froze at the sound of children splashing in the water nearby. Victoria's eyes went wide, and she clambered to her feet to dress in her wet, sandy clothes. He followed, then straightened the little shelter, wadding up his seed-stained blanket. Though it was summer, they exited the hut without notice. No one saw Grant toss away the blanket into a rubbish bin.

They found the tide was low, and easily walked to the neighboring cove. Immediately, Victoria cried, “Oh, look, Grant!” She pointed out their horse and clapped happily.

The moment Grant spotted the local man leading the horse, looking for the owner, he had a flash impression in his mind.
Himself, with the reins, leading the horse to a driftwood log. Victoria, excited about the beach, bending over in front of him to remove her shoes, then turning to beckon him down to the water with a saucy smile and her arms wide. Him, dropping the reins, following like a stallion after a mare….

He cursed his stupidity the entire way back to the hotel, ignoring Victoria's happy chatter and fighting not to react to the scent of her hair as the wind blew it forward over his shoulder. At least on the horse, he didn't have to look at how wanton she appeared. But when they dismounted in front of the hotel, he saw her face was flushed and her lips lush.

Men loitering on the steps outside stared at her with a palpable hunger. Victoria was blithely unaware. One of the men whistled, and she turned with a confused smile. His whistle roughened into a hiss of breath between his teeth.

Grant shot him a look that said he'd kill if the man came closer.

He responded, “Hell, guv. No need to want our blood fer lookin'.”

Another added, “I'd say the man don't know how to share. Should we teach him how?”

Grant's voice was low with scarcely controlled fury.
“I don't share what's mine.”
The men backed off as though he'd just bared his teeth at them.

The thought of another man's hands on her, the rage that boiled in him at the thought…Where was his notorious detachment? He felt everything so sharply now. She'd brought him more pleasure than he could possibly have dreamed, and he'd lost control. Completely. If he lost his restraint, here, now, what then? Everything would slip, everything he worked so hard to manage would come crumbling down.

He was exactly what he'd abhorred all these years: a man who couldn't control his vices. And she was a vice he'd grown addicted to. He realized that now. Grown men didn't miss a woman after mere hours. A man like him shouldn't get a sick, twisted feeling in his gut from the thought of her with another.

The situation didn't help. He'd compromised her—not fully, but, Christ, it was enough—and he would have to marry her. She was a lady—the granddaughter of an earl. He should have had more restraint. He was sure he would have if he'd never placed his hands on her.

Retrogressing, following the call of his blood. The call that had nearly destroyed one brother. And had killed the other.

Grant looked miserable, but Tori couldn't despair. She felt too heavenly, replaying visions of him kneading her body and kissing her skin. Surely nights like the last didn't happen between just anyone. And now he'd escorted her directly up to her room. She teased herself that it wasn't the men outside they'd just passed but his unwillingness to leave her that prompted it.

She put the key into the lock. Without opening it, she turned back to him. “Don't you want to kiss me good-bye?”

The anguished look was back. This wouldn't do. She wanted him to look at her as he did when he was levered above her. As though he'd lost reason in his need to kiss her, in his desperation to put his lips on her skin.

“You need to change, and get dry.” He reached past her and opened the door.

Inside, Cammy was up. Tori flushed. Was what she'd just enjoyed written all over her face?

“Where have you been?” Cammy cried. “I was about to fetch the constable.”

“You won't believe what happened,” Tori said quickly. “The horse wandered away and we were stuck on the beach.” That wasn't exactly a lie.

When Cammy raised her eyebrows at them, Grant asked, “How was your day yesterday, Miss Scott?”

Tori looked from one to the other and thought there was more to the question.

“My day went favorably well. In fact, I have great news. Tori, I saw the doctor.”

“But I thought he wouldn't be back for a couple of days,” Tori sputtered. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“We didn't tell you because I was afraid of what the prognosis would be. The physician asked me scores of questions and did hours of tests.” She paused and said, “I know what's been wrong.”

Tori sank down. “Well…”

Cammy picked up a piece of paper and read from it. “Patient has persistent fluid depletion—that's a fancy way of saying I don't drink enough water and that makes me forgetful and erratic—and a chronic pathological reaction to ingesting fish of any kind.”

Fish?
Tori was horrified. “B-But that's all we ever ate.”

“Quite.”

Every time she'd brought them fish, she'd been unwittingly poisoning her friend. “So you drink water and don't eat fish and you'll be well?”

“It's a bit more complicated that that. I have to get minerals in my blood and build up my strength. And this illness has taught my body to reject food. So I'll be forcing down broth for a few more weeks. But the lingering forgetfulness should fade promptly.”

“So you
can
get well.”

She nodded. “The return trip will set me back a bit because of the seasickness, but after that, I can make myself well again.”

Tori leapt up to hug Cammy. All of the years of worry, of not knowing. Now they had an enemy they could see to fight. And if Camellia Scott was anything, she was a fighter.

Tori thought of this excellent news and of her time with Grant and sighed, “This is the best day of my entire life.”

 

Grant stared into his cup of black coffee, not even glancing up as Ian stomped into the ship's salon and dropped to a chair.

“If you're just going to look at it…,” Ian said as he slid Grant's cup over and drank deeply. “I saw you come aboard this morning.”

“So?”

“So, you and Tori…Shouldn't you have been whistling?”

“How do you know I wasn't in a brothel?” He might as well have asked, “How do you know I wasn't on the moon?” Ian's unmoved, knowing look was the same.

Grant snapped his fingers. “Wait, I know. Because you would have seen me there.”

Ian shook his head, his good mood unaffected by Grant's surly tone. “My companions were my brandy and cheroots. We had a sublime evening lounging on deck.” When Grant said nothing, Ian asked, “Can you really say you regret it?”

For him to even ask…“Of course I can,” he answered, his voice low.

Ian snorted. “If that's what you tell yourself.”

Grant raked his fingers through his hair. “You don't understand.”

“Then explain it,” Ian said, propping his boots up on another chair.

“A year ago, I promised a frail old man that should I find his granddaughter, I would protect her with my life. I told him to rest easy on that score. And should her parents be gone, I swore I'd be her guardian until I delivered her back to him. And he believed me, knowing I've never broken my word.”

“But what's done is done—”

“And did you know that if he passes away before we return, I'm to be her permanent guardian? That was how much he trusted me.”

Ian looked snared. “So you bungled that—”

“And there was no reason for him not to trust me. I built my reputation. Worked on it. Denied myself to solidify it.”

Ian shook his head forcefully. “Life is too short not to take happiness where you can find it. Especially when no one gets hurt. Marry her and be done with all this agonizing. You know you have to. You could even now be a proud papa-to-be.”

Grant ran a hand over the back of his neck. “There's no chance of that.”

Ian frowned, then flashed a grin of realization. “You sly devil! Grant, you truly have depth.”

“If you keep this under wraps, we can avoid marriage.”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “I still don't understand why you would want to.”

“Did you ever think I wouldn't be the earl's first choice for her husband? Their title is without money, but it's still ancient. I have no land of my own. I'm a decade older—”

“Inconsequential when compared to the fact that you're
her
choice. She chose you.”

Grant shot to his feet. “There wasn't a
choice
. She didn't prefer me out of a pool of suitors. She was cheated out of parents, out of a childhood, and now I've cheated her out of something else she should have expected. Courting, beaus, a season. Being young and narrowing her decision down to the right man. And look at her—there will still be courting and beaus, only it'll be after I marry her.”

“I don't think you give her enough credit.”