Once upon a courtesan, p.15
Once Upon a Courtesan, page 15
“Yes?” he whispered, even as he dragged his tongue up the inside of her thigh and pushed her gown higher. He could almost scent her desire now, feel the tremble of her.
“Anyone could come around the corner,” she gasped. “Anyone could see.”
He smiled up at her as he handed her the bunched skirt of her dress to get it out of his way. “Let them. Let them watch you shatter around my tongue. Or better yet, listen to them dance and drone on about whatever foolishness pleases them while you scratch at the walls as you come.”
“Fuck,” she breathed, that one word so sweet a surrender.
He smiled as she widened her stance, granting him further access to her body. He took it, stoking her soft flesh with his palms and fingers, then brushing her bare sex with his thumbs. He peeled her open and she jolted, one hand coming back to his hair. He paused, wondering if she’d push him away or pull him in. She hesitated, perhaps debating that decision herself, then she tugged him closer.
Permission fully granted, he licked her length once, then twice. The taste of her was maddening, sweet and earthy and rich with desire. He swept his tongue over the tender flesh, just playing for a moment. Not too long, though. Game or not, he doubted she’d like being tormented for too long out in the open. Later he could do more. Later he could torment and torture and play until she was screeching and twisting.
For now, he wanted to make her come in a shocking, heated, instant burst. So he focused his attention on her clitoris. He smoothed the sheath aside, exposing the slickness of it beneath. When he just darted his tongue across her, she bucked against him. A demand for more. For now, he obeyed that command. This was for her, after all.
He swirled his tongue over her again and again, increasing the pressure and setting the rhythm as she began to ride his mouth in earnest. He matched her, stroking and stroking as her wetness increased, as her moans grew louder and joined the sound of the party around the corner of the terrace.
People came outside as he licked her. He heard the door open and voices become clearer. They were talking about the roads, something so benign, and she removed her hand from his hair and covered her mouth so they wouldn’t hear her.
He began to suck, strong and steady, and the muffled sound of her drove him on, pulling him toward the inevitable moment when she would fall and he would revel in the clench of her, the burst of her, the waves of her.
She gasped out his name on a harsh whisper and did just that. He pinned her hips against the wall with both hands and sucked harder, drawing out her orgasm, forcing her to ride every single gorgeous ripple of it as she wriggled against him, breath sharp and body trembling.
Only when she went weak, leaning against him for support, did he lift his head from between her legs. She widened her stance a little more, giving him a place to push into, to take her. It was a temptation, the idea that he could have her in the fading glow of her pleasure, still feel the shutter of her release massage his cock until he spent between them.
Instead he rose up, smoothing her skirt back down and straightening her carefully before he leaned in and let her taste herself on his lips.
“This was for you, Arabella,” he whispered. “Just for you.”
She stared up at him and then cleared her throat. “Well, what if I want that for me?” she asked, cupping him through his trousers and sending shockwaves of pleasure up his cock from her touch.
“You can have it later,” he said. “If you’re very good. Now why don’t we go back in and enjoy the rest of the party?”
He offered his arm with all the politeness and propriety his father had tried to scream into him over the years and she took it. The intruders on the terrace had gone back inside while she writhed in pleasure, so they weren’t seen as they stepped back into the fuller light.
She looked up at him and snorted out a laugh. “Oh dear, I’ve mussed you,” she said, and then reached up to smooth his hair back into place. “Not perfect, but I doubt anyone will notice.”
“You’ll notice,” he said. “And you’ll know why.” He stepped forward and opened the terrace door. “After you, Miss Comerford.”
She shook her head as she re-entered the ballroom. He moved her directly onto the dance floor and as the orchestra began to play a waltz, he drew her to his chest and spun her into the crowd of dancers.
She smiled up at him, her face bright with remnants of her pleasure and also just true enjoyment. She was achingly beautiful in that moment, genuinely perfect in every way. And he realized that he was truly coming to care for her. Perhaps more than just care, even though that made no sense and could have no good end. He would leave. She had made it clear she only wanted an affair.
To long for more was folly.
“They’re all watching us, you know,” she said softly.
He looked around and shrugged even as he turned her. “I’m sure. You are in great demand, after all. I’m sure it irritates them to no end that a bastard no one is the man with you in his arms.”
“They’re watching us because they want to know how I tamed such a wild thing,” she said. “How I made you dance with me like a very proper gentleman.”
“That’s because they don’t know what I was doing on the terrace a moment ago,” he said. “They wouldn’t think I was a gentleman then.”
She tilted her head. “Perhaps, despite your best efforts, you are both, Silas. A dashing rogue, yes. But also a little bit of a reluctant gentleman.”
He stared at her as the music ended and the other couples took their bows. She’d said something so seemingly benign and it felt like it cracked him open a fraction. Let some light into places that had always been as dark as the corner where he pleasured her.
He had no idea how to respond to her observation, but was relieved of any obligation to do so when they were approached by a couple. She smiled at them and Silas realized this was the sister he hadn’t yet met, Evelina. Like the youngest, Julia, this woman looked a great deal like Arabella. Her eyes weren’t the same—Evelina’s were brown—but otherwise they had a similarly shaped face, the same dark hair.
“Evelina, Harry!” Arabella said, and drew their group off the dancefloor so they wouldn’t block the next set of dancers. “What excellent timing. I don’t think you’ve met my…” She trailed off and looked at Silas. “My friend, Silas Windham. Silas, this is the Duke of Southwater and my sister, Evelina Comerford.”
“Your Grace,” Silas said with a slight incline of his head. He actually knew Southwater, though he doubted the man recalled him. They’d been acquainted with each other as boys in school. Southwater had been a few years older. Silas had watched him bully some of the younger children and had ended up with a black eye for the trouble of defending them.
“Mr. Windham,” Southwater said, all disinterested politeness. “I’d heard you were back in Town for a few weeks. Pleasure to see you. How is your brother?”
Silas glanced toward Evelina, who hadn’t yet had a chance to greet him thanks to the intrusion of her protector. “He’s doing better, thank you for the inquiry. And Miss Comerford, I’ve heard so much about you.”
Evelina extended a hand at last and he shook it. “And I think you know I’ve heard so much about you,” Evelina said with a glance toward her sister.
“Evie,” Arabella said, and actually blushed. “She is terrible, she’ll tell you awful tales. All lies.”
“Hmmm,” Silas said with a wink toward her. “That only makes me want to ask questions.”
“Dearest, would you like some punch?” Southwater asked.
Evelina glanced up at him with a soft smile. “Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.”
The duke inclined his head and then left the three of them to weave his way through the crowd. Silas watched him with a frown. To fetch punch for his lover seemed kind on the surface, but Silas wondered if it was more out of disinterest in talking to Arabella and him rather than truly looking out for Evelina’s care.
Not that it was any of his business.
“You know I met your younger sister, Julia, at an event not so long ago,” Silas said, refocusing on the two women.
“Yes,” Evelina said with another wink for Arabella. “She told me all about it. And so you’ve met all three Comerford Courtesans. Do you have an opinion on the lot of us?”
He felt Arabella tense beside him. Just a little bracing for whatever he’d say, which made him wonder what other men had talked about when they discussed the sisters. Actually, he could well-imagine the disgusting things some men would come up with when faced with three sisters in the life.
“I think I’m most stuck by your strong bond,” he said, and meant it. “I’m afraid I’m not particularly close with my siblings, so to see how easy you are together is a true pleasure.”
Something on Evelina’s expression softened and she reached out to briefly squeeze Arabella’s hand. “Well, you ought to see all three of us together, then.”
“A tornado is what that is,” Arabella teased.
He smiled. “I’ve seen a tornado, in America. Terrifying things, but intensely beautiful.”
Evelina laughed. “Then it sounds like the perfect description for us. Terrifying but beautiful.”
“I find all three of you lovely,” he agreed. “But only slightly terrifying.”
Evelina watched him a moment, her humor still on her expression, but her gaze focused. She was reading him, just as Arabella did sometimes. “How did you find the former colonies?” she asked. “You were there a long time, yes?”
“Over five years,” he said. “I traveled a great deal, saw cities and the countryside. There is great beauty there. And their wilderness is very different from ours. Here, you walk for a little while in one direction, you’ll find a town or house of some kind. There…well, if you wander too far you’ll never be found. Lost to the woods and the brush forever.”
“That sounds fascinating,” Evelina said with a sigh.
“I-I made some sketches during my time there,” Silas admitted, almost not realizing he was going to be so honest.
“You did?” Arabella asked, her eyes wide as she turned to face him more straight on. “I had no idea you were an artist.”
“I wouldn’t say an artist, but it’s impossible not to be in such a place and not capture it in some way, and I’ve never been much of a writer.”
“If you’ve brought the pieces, I’d love to see them,” Evelina said. “And it sounds like Arabella would feel the same.”
“I’m happy to share, as long as you do not judge my attempt at art too cruelly,” he said.
Evelina glanced over her shoulder. “Where in the world is Harry? He’s always been interested in America. Thinks we should take it all back by force, I think, for the resources there.” She slightly rolled her eyes, just barely perceptible.
“I think I see him there with…” Arabella pursed her lips. “I’m not sure which earl that is, it’s hard to tell when they’re not facing me.”
“He must have gotten sidetracked,” Evelina said. “I’ll go fetch him, as we intended to go home early before we spotted you two dancing. It was a great pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Windham.”
“Silas,” he said. “Mr. Windham is far too formal.”
“Silas,” she repeated. Then she leaned forward and kissed Arabella’s cheek. He thought he saw her whisper something, but couldn’t hear it. “Good night, dearest. We’ll work out when I can have the grand exhibit of his work.”
“Good night,” Arabella said, and together they watched her make her way toward Southwater. The duke glanced down at her when she reached him, put his arm around her as he continued to speak to his companion.
When Silas looked at her, Arabella was frowning slightly. He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Another dance, my lady?”
She nodded. “I’d love to.”
They went back to the dancefloor and spun back out together. This dance was a little more lively than the waltz had been earlier, but it wasn’t a country group dance, at least, so he could keep her in his arms even as they hopped and skipped their way around the floor together.
“You worry about her,” he said.
“Evelina?” she asked.
He nodded. “Do you not approve of her duke?”
“She’s been with Harry for two years now. That’s a lifetime in the world of courtesans. She tells me she’s happy, she even seems happy most of the time. But I suppose old habits die hard and I always look to how I can protect her.”
Silas tilted his head to look at her a little more closely. There was more to it than that, but he doubted Arabella would say more. On some level, he understood it. If there was trouble between Evelina and Southwater, that was their business, not anyone else’s.
“Well, both your sisters are amazing women,” he said.
That slight change of subject caused Arabella’s face to light up. “Thank you, I agree. I do adore them both. We were close as girls and to still be so close now is a true pleasure.”
“I can picture you all easily as girls, giggling together and causing trouble. What about your mother since I know you weren’t close to your father based on our earlier conversation.”
The pleasure that had come over her face when she spoke of her sisters faded now. Replaced by pain and then by the mask she put up around subjects that had real impact on her. Her expression became calm and blank and her gaze darted to the side slightly.
“My mother was long dead,” she said.
Silas wrinkled his brow because she made no effort to tell that story, nor more of the one she’d already mentioned about her father. She was shutting the door on him. Shuffling him into the same category where she put her protectors. He had opened up to her, but she wouldn’t do the same with him.
And he understood it all. He knew exactly why she kept her emotions, her pains, separate from everyone around her. Yet he wished he could find a way over that wall she had erected around herself. Wished he could delve deeper and find the depths of her that hadn’t seen the light in years.
And that was most definitely unfair of him. For both their sakes.
He turned her on the dancefloor as the song faded and when she changed the subject, he didn’t pursue it. He let her be light and fun and nothing more. And even as he reveled in all that she was, he also felt bereft with the knowledge that he could only see a tiny fraction of her.
And that she’d likely never allow him more.
CHAPTER 15
Simone Stanhope’s London townhouse had been the first place Arabella had felt safe when she left her family and began on her path to becoming a courtesan. Simone had allowed her a room and full use of her library of naughty books. Her education had been first theoretical thanks to the books and then practical as Simone took her out into the world and let her see and experience the expectations Arabella would encounter as a courtesan.
Memories of long talks and spied upon moments flooded her as her carriage entered Simone’s drive on an early afternoon two days after the Cyprian ball. As she exited the vehicle, servants rushed to help her and she smiled at them. They were the same people who had served Simone all those years ago.
Get good servants and keep them happy. She could practically hear that edict in Simone’s voice. It was one she followed religiously. She took care of those in her employ and she trusted them to take care of her…and her secrets.
“Miss Comerford,” Simone’s butler said as he stepped from the house to greet her. “We weren’t expecting you today.”
“Good afternoon, Buttons,” Arabella said with a warm smile for the man.
She had no idea if Buttons was his true last name or if he’d been a pirate at some point and that was his nickname. Honestly, she might believe the second. He had a scar on his cheek, after all, and a rather rakish air for a butler.
“I assume you’ve come to join your aunt and Miss Simone?” he asked as he took her hat and gloves.
Arabella blinked at that unexpected question. “My—my aunt? Er, yes. Of course.”
He led the way to the parlor. Arabella was surprised to find the door shut. He knocked lightly and waited until he heard Simone’s voice, “Yes?”
“Miss Arabella Comerford,” he announced as he cracked the door.
“Oh. Yes. Well, have her come in,” Simone’s voice came from behind the door.
He stepped back and Arabella entered the room. She found her aunt first. Caroline stood at the window, her hands clasped almost nervously in front of her. Simone was also on her feet before the settee. She must have been entertaining her protector before Caroline’s arrival, because Arabella recognized her gown. Normally it was one she wore at the beginning of a new arrangement. It was low cut and accentuated Simone’s lush curves. Something to make them want, she always said.
“Simone,” Arabella said, and crossed so they could kiss each other’s cheeks. Then she turned on her aunt. “And Aunt Caroline. I…I admire I’m shocked to find you here. I didn’t realize you and Simone shared tea.”
Her aunt blinked and reached up to smooth her dark hair before she cast a quick look toward Simone. “I—we don’t. Or we didn’t. Not often at any rate. I just wanted to talk to her about—”
“Gracious, Caroline, don’t give yourself an apoplexy,” Simone said smoothly. “Your aunt and I share something in common, our affection for you and your sisters. We bumped into each other at Mr. Mattigan’s bookshop and decided to have tea. I’m not sure one should say they are shocked to see us together.”
Arabella wrinkled her brow. That did make sense, of course. It was only that her aunt was always so missish when the topic of Simone ever came up. She’d had such a sheltered life and the idea of the courtesan seemed to make her nervous.
“Well, I’m happy for you two to be friends,” she said carefully. “To have you two both looking out for us is a very powerful idea.”
“Yes,” her aunt said, and seemed to find the ability to move from the window at last. “But it seems you have something to discuss with Simone…with Miss Stanhope, and I think it’s best I not be involved in the details of your arrangements. I’ll excuse myself.” She glanced toward Simone. “Thank you for—for today.”
