The Scoundrel's Lover (9 page)

Before she had been distracted, but now she took in more details of Marcus’s lair. The furniture and other accouterments were simple, yes, but they were clearly very fine and expensive, reflecting the wealth that Marcus had built here. She fiddled with the clock on the mantel, which read nine forty-five, before she walked across the room again.

She found herself stopping at the door at the back of the office. The one she had noticed on her first visit here.

“What is he hiding?” she murmured.

Immediately her errant mind turned to one of the French fairytales she’d read as a girl. One particularly gruesome one was about Bluebeard, the man who hid his dead wives in a chamber. She laughed, though her stomach fluttered as she grasped the knob.

She was surprised when it actually turned and the door opened to reveal not a chamber of horrors like in the story she feared, but a bedroom. A bedroom with a huge bed as its centerpiece. A bed with crisp linen sheets that looked so inviting. Would Marcus lay her across those sheets if she asked? And do more than merely kiss her?

She gasped as she yanked the door shut. Spinning around, she leaned against it. The chamber of horrors from the Bluebeard story would not have disturbed her so much as that errant fantasy of Marcus claiming her. Especially since the second seemed so much more in reach than the first.

She rushed across the chamber to the wide swath of windows and stared down, but what she saw gave her no more solace than the chamber had. There were the writhing bodies that made her want what she should not desire. The things that made her body tingle in a way that could only be relieved by touching herself.

She spun from that and found herself facing Marcus’s desk. She braced herself on the wooden surface, drawing long, panting breaths to calm herself.

“Stop, just stop,” she pleaded out loud. “You cannot give in to this.”

Tears stung her eyes as she stared unseeing at the papers scattered across Marcus’s desk. But slowly she began to focus. Her mind stopped thinking about his bedchamber or the lovers downstairs and began to truly see what was before her.

There were a few ledgers with figures scratched messily in the proper—and sometimes improper—boxes. There were a few letters that seemed to contain membership fees for the club, but she couldn’t see where they were recorded on the ledger.

“What a mess,” she murmured as she reached into her pelisse and withdrew her spectacles. She balanced them on her nose and slowly sank into the chair behind the desk as she sorted through the piles, trying to find some organization for what was there to be done.

All her life, she had taken an interest in contracts, budgets and ledgers. Studying them had always come naturally, and her parents had never discouraged her inclination. Hell, she’d even gone over contracts for her father and her brothers, including Rafe’s inherited marital contract just the year before. As always, reading and working on things such as this soothed her, brought her away from tangled emotions and unwanted thoughts and planted her firmly on the ground. Soon, she lost track of everything except for what was before her and what she could do with that information.

Lost, that was, until the door to the chamber slammed. She jumped and jerked her face up to find Marcus standing beside the door, staring at her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

She blinked and reached up to snatch her spectacles off. She shoved them in her forgotten pelisse and jumped to her feet. “I was just looking at—”

“My personal papers,” he interrupted, taking a long step toward her.

As always, he was impossible to read. His tone was angry, but she couldn’t tell from his expression if that was a mild feeling or a rage. He hid himself just too damned well. But she blushed regardless.

“Yes, I’m so very sorry I didn’t mean to pry.”

“And yet you were.”

She wrung her hands before her. If he wanted to, he could kick her out of his club this very moment and she wouldn’t be able to watch out for Crispin. Or see Marcus again.

But of course the first was far more important to her than the second.

“Mr. Rivers,” she began, and his frown deepened. “Marcus,” she corrected herself as she thought of what she had agreed to the previous day. “I was waiting for you, and I admit I was distracted by the papers on your desk. I have a bit of a head of such things and it is sometimes hard for me to resist the temptation to reorganize.”

“A head for business?” he asked, and the anger in his voice had begun to bleed away, replaced by shock at her words. Of course, she was accustomed to that. Men were always shocked—and often annoyed or even disgusted—by her ability to read sums and contracts as well or better than they were.

She blushed. “I-I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He moved closer again, and suddenly she was very happy for the desk that separated them. He was too close and she could already feel the radiating heat of his body curling around her and making her weak.

He tilted his head to read the ledger upside down. “Did you reenter my sums?”

She bit her lip. “I did, I’m sorry. I only thought it would be clearer if they were put this way. It is a terrible habit and I cannot apologize enough. We don’t have to discuss it anymore, and I promise you I won’t ever do it again.”

“No,” he insisted, his dark green eyes snaring her and holding steady. “I am interested in this. How is it that a lady of your caliber has a head for business?”

Annabelle blinked. A lady of her caliber. In the
ton
, she was a lady of no caliber at all, yet Marcus spoke of her like she was a direct descendent of the king.

“I—well, you know my brothers,” she began slowly. “So you must have ascertained that our family was not exactly…typical.”

He grinned suddenly, and her heart stuttered. She had never seen him smile like that before and it made his stern face suddenly bright and so utterly, ridiculously handsome that she could hardly find breath.

“Typical is not a word I would use,” he drawled.

She dipped her head so that his appearance wouldn’t distract her further. “Well, I may be even less so than Rafe and Crispin. You see, I was always exposed to the same education as they were. My father thought it could be very important for me to be clever in every way. So even when the boys went away to school, he insisted my tutors give me a mirrored education to theirs. Much to the chagrin of the teachers. Some quit in protest to such a shocking thought.”

“But your father was not deterred,” Marcus said.

She swallowed back the pain that met her at the mention of her father. Thoughts of him were still difficult, even after all these years. Living hard and wild was his way, but he had been kind and loving to her every day of her life. Sometimes she ached for the hole his death had left behind.

“No,” she said, barely allowing the word to carry. She shook her head, hoping Marcus couldn’t see her emotional state. “But I am not here to look at your books or tell you stories of my childhood. I’m here for Crispin. Is
he
here?”

She was trying to focus, but it was almost impossible when Marcus was watching her so closely. When his hooded stare made her think only about his mouth covering hers with hunger and purpose.

“No.”

She blinked at the one syllable answer that ripped her from her fantasies. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your brother isn’t here.”

Panic rose in her chest at that answer. “Oh, but I thought you said Crispin came every Tuesday and Thursday at ten.”

He shrugged. “Usually that is true, but it is only just ten now. He is often a bit later, so if you would like to wait, my men have been given instructions to come fetch us when and if he arrives.”

“And what will we do in the meantime?”

She shouldn’t have asked the question. She completely understood its double meaning, and from the way Marcus’s eyes lit up, he knew it too. Slowly he came around the desk, edging into her space, making her knees wobble as he leaned in just a touch too close. She wanted to let her eyes flutter shut, she wanted to lift her mouth to him and have that kiss she had been thinking about for over a day.

“What do you
want
to do, Annabelle?” he whispered.

She couldn’t help it. She groaned, just a little, but enough to humiliate herself. Her cheeks flamed, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from his captivating, powerful gaze.

He smiled again. “Perhaps you would like to tell me more about my books.”

The spell was broken with his unexpected suggestion. She flushed. “Are you teasing me, sir?”

He shook his head swiftly. “Of course not, Annabelle. I am very impressed by the abilities you described and by the alterations I could see from the other side of the desk. I would very much like your opinion on my management of the club if you would be willing to provide it.”

She stared at him. He looked utterly serious. A part of her thrilled that he would respect her mind and ask for her assistance. Normally it was only her family who did that, everyone else was appalled by her intelligence and capability.

But part of her was also disappointed. When he stalked around the desk at her, she certainly hadn’t thought he would ask her to help him with his accounting. She had expected him to kiss her or offer her even more decadent wickedness in his bed behind the door across the room.

She shivered at the thought and promptly shoved it aside where it would no longer trouble her.

“Very well,” she agreed as she motioned to the desk. He pulled out the chair for her and she retook her place there, with him looming over her, a massive, handsome distraction. “Let me show you where I feel you can better organize.”

Marcus leaned over Annabelle’s shoulder, doing his level best not to be utterly distracted by the jasmine scent of her hair. The only reason he could maintain control was because the things she was saying were so damn fascinating.

He had spent years quietly watching this woman, intrigued by her beauty and poise, picturing her body beneath his and her smile turned on him like a light.

Now he found he was just as intrigued by her intelligence as by anything else. Annabelle not only understood the basic tenants of running a business, but her thoughts on how to reorganize his books were not to be ignored. She had even caught a few mistakes he or Abbot had made in accounting.

“I should hire you,” he said with a laugh.

Her head jerked up and she slowly turned to look at him from the corner of her eye. “I—what did you say?”

“You are right you have a head for business,” he explained. “I could use your acumen.”

She shifted, and for a moment he was able to see the smooth curve of the tops of her breasts through the gap in her gown. His body tensed and all the desire he had been trying to tamp down rushed back to the surface and made him hard.

“I-I would be happy to look over these things when I come here,” she said softly. “If you need me.”

Marcus leaned in, smelling her hair deeply. “You should not talk to me about what I need, Annabelle. Not when I can still taste you on my lips.”

She gasped at the highly inappropriate comment and pushed to her feet. As she spun toward him, she staggered into his arms. He caught her there, drawing her against him so he could feel every inch of her soft, supple body. How many ways could he have her, claim her? Here in his office, downstairs in the playrooms, out in the damn street if it pleased them? He was overcome by the desire for her and he cupped her face to draw her closer.

He felt her breath on his mouth, the flutter of her body as she molded to him even closer. He was about to claim her lips when there was a sharp rap on the door behind them.

Annabelle let out a little cry and wrestled from his arms so suddenly that she nearly deposited herself in the floor next to his desk. She covered her pink cheeks with her shaking hands, refusing to meet his gaze.

With a scowl, he turned toward the door. “What?” he barked out.

The door opened slowly and the guard from the bottom of the stairs slowly poked his head inside, his face pale as if he expected punishment.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mr. Flynn has arrived.”

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. It was too easy to get caught up in his ever-mounting desire for Annabelle and forget she hadn’t come here for him, for whatever heat was developing between them. She was here for her brother and he could see, as he turned toward her, that she would not be deterred from her mission to save a man Marcus feared did not want to be saved.

Annabelle repositioned her mask and tried to keep up with Marcus’s long strides as he led her across the main hall of the club. Around her, the passions and pleasures continued, but his purposeful stride didn’t seem to indicate he had any interest in them.

She couldn’t understand why. The moans and flashes of flesh from the corner of her eye made her own body edgy and wet. But earlier he had seemed to have great interest in her, so it couldn’t be that he was a monk. It was all infinitely confusing and arousing in ways she did not wish to be aroused.

He produced a key from his pocket and swiftly unlocked a narrow door next to the hall. Without saying a word, he clasped her hand and drew her into a dark passageway, then closed and locked the door behind him.

In the dark, her other senses were obliterated, and she stopped breathing as she fought to control the panic that suddenly rose up in her chest.

“What are you—” she began, but he spun around and lifted two rough fingers to her lips. She had a very sudden and powerful urge to lick those fingers.

“Shhh,” he said, his voice low. “Let your eyes adjust and I’ll show you.”

She pulled away from his distracting hand and squeezed her eyes shut. After a slow count to ten, she opened them again and found that the hall wasn’t so dim anymore. There were small slivers of light all along its length, though she couldn’t understand their source. They weren’t candles or lamps.

“Ready?” Marcus asked, still whispering.

“Yes, I suppose,” she said, hesitant when she still didn’t understand in the slightest
what
they were doing here. He could do almost anything to her.

Which should have been far less pleasing a notion than it was.

He caught her hand once more, his rough fingers stroking over hers, and drew her down the hall. After a few steps, he stopped and gently slid a small portion of the wall away. A column of bright light cascaded into the hall, and she gasped.

It was a peephole, leading into one of the chambers on the other side of the hall. That explained the small lights. There were half a dozen of the peepholes lining the wall, and even when they were closed a small portion of the light from the room they revealed came around the opening.

“Mar—”

He held a finger to his lips to signal her to be silent and merely motioned toward the room. She gritted her teeth and stepped up to look inside.

There was a large table in the room, and at it sat five men…and her brother. Crispin faced the place where she stood, but seemed oblivious to her presence as he laughed and dealt out a round of cards to his companions.

It was rare to see him unguarded and…well, sober anymore. She drank in the sight of his still-bright face and the smile that could make anyone forgive him anything if he used it to his advantage. She lifted a hand to cover her lips, afraid she would call out to him if only to see him put those clear eyes turned on her for a moment.

But her joy faded as he lifted a tumbler of scotch at his side and made a salute to the others before he downed it in one swig.

With a sigh, she turned away. Marcus stared at her a moment, then quietly slid the spying mechanism closed. They were silent in the dark for a while as she gathered herself. Then she turned toward his shape in the darkness.

“Do you have these spying holes to ensure your patrons are not cheating?” she asked.

She heard his low chuckle, and even though she couldn’t see his handsome face, the dark sound hit her in the gut and then wound lower, lower, until her sex began to tingle. She scowled.

“Am I amusing?”

He stopped laughing, but there was still the sound of a smile in his voice as he said, “No, not at all. But I’m not certain you want to know the answer to your question.”

“I would not have asked it if I didn’t,” she said, peevish in the face of his teasing.

He hesitated. “Very well. No, my dear, not to prevent cheating. We let our patrons work out those details, and most are quite honest when it comes to their cards.”

“Then why?” she asked, trying to think of some reason beyond her suggestion.

He caught her hand and drew her to the next peephole in the hall. When he slid it open, she leaned forward and her eyes went wide.

In this chamber, she could see a large bed against the opposite wall, and on it were the tangled bodies of a man and woman. They were both completely naked and the man was lying between the woman’s legs, licking her most private of areas with great gusto. She arched with every slurping lick, crying out in pure ecstasy.

Annabelle spun away, and Marcus closed the little door. She leaned against the opposite wall, wishing she could read his expression in the dark.

“There are some who get a thrill out of watching others,” he explained. “And being watched.”

“You mean they
know
there may be people in the hallway observing them?” she asked, utterly shocked at the notion.

He nodded. “There are many private rooms in the club which do not have these devices, so those who come to these rooms are well aware they may be watched.”

“Why not just do their business in the main hall?” she asked, her mind bombarding her with so many sensual images that she could hardly think straight.

“There is something more erotic about being ‘caught’ rather than being blatant.”

She covered her hot face with her hands, trying to control her breathing and failing miserably at the act.

“I think, Miss Flynn, that you very much like watching,” he said.

She took a step away in shock. “How dare you?” she whispered.

He reached out, and his fingers dragged her hand down slowly. “How dare I? I have watched you observe those in the main hall when you come through. And I heard your breath catch—not just in shock, but in desire—when I opened the window to this room. In fact, I think if I opened it again, you would not be able to help yourself but to look at what that couple will do next.”

“You go too far,” she whispered, but she couldn’t put any heat into her words. She couldn’t even deny he was correct.

“I know I do,” he said, his voice now rough. “But I cannot seem to help myself.”

He slid the little window open a second time, and the light hit Annabelle’s face like a slap. She tried to turn away from it, to prove to Marcus that he was wrong about her. But the moans of the woman in the room had now turned to moans from both the participants and she found herself turning toward the scene, edging closer until she could see the couple again.

They had shifted on the bed so that now the lady was straddling her lover’s face. While he continued to lick her, she leaned over him, sucking his member deep into her throat. Annabelle caught her breath. She had seen such things in naughty books over the years, but never in person. Now she stared, mouth agape, unable to look away even though she was now proving Marcus right in the most humiliating way possible.

The couple continued to writhe together until the lady suddenly threw her head back and began to cry out, not in pain, but in pleasure. Her body quaked, grinding down over her lover until she collapsed against his body weakly.

He sat up and gently shifted their position until he was behind her. His hard cock pressed to her entrance, and he grunted as he shoved forward, entering her slickness without any hesitation.

Annabelle gripped her fists at her sides, trying not to feel the tingling pressure that worked its way through her body as she watched the couple join in erotic bliss. But when Marcus stepped behind her and his arms came around her, she nearly collapsed on the floor in a puddle of needy desire.

He said nothing, just pushed her hair aside and began to suckle her neck as they watched the couple before them. The man was taking the woman with great passion now, driving into her as she screamed out pleasure with every thrust.

Marcus’s hands covered her breasts, and Annabelle leaned back into him with a shuddering sigh. His fingers were like magic as he plucked her nipples through the thin fabric, jolting her with every magnificent stroke.

Inside the room, the man on the bed let out a shout and withdrew, spurting his seed across his lady’s back before he flipped her over, collapsed against her, and they kissed deeply.

Marcus reached forward and slid the window shut, putting them in darkness again. But he didn’t withdraw from her. Instead he turned her until her back pressed against the wall and leaned in, cupping her backside and lifting her into an erection that was far more impressive than the one possessed by the man she’d just watch claim his lover.