Page 12 of A Touch Wicked
“Neither,” James gritted. “She was . . .”
Indescribable. Beyond words.
Lately James had begun to wonder if he’d dreamed her up. Five days was just long enough that the image of her — the touch of her hands, her lips, her body — had begun to fade around the edges. More an illusion than reality. He began to regret that he hadn’t kissed her enough, explored her curves more thoroughly. That he hadn’t spent the time to linger over the taste and texture of her skin.
If he never saw her again, he knew without a doubt that she would become more myth than real.
“Bloody hell,” Richard murmured, staring at his brother in shock. “Bloody hell.You’re besotted.”
“No.”Yes.
Richard clicked his tongue. “You’ve no talent for lying. Admit it, you’ve been thinking about her all week. She’s confounded you and you don’t know how.”
James set his jaw. “If —hypothetically— I were besotted, how would I —hypothetically— put an end to it?”
His brother raised an eyebrow as if to say,Are you serious?“Hypothetically.”
“Recall that I have violence in my gaze and may punch you in the jaw.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “It’s a mere infatuation, Kent. You’ll leave her at the end of the month with a nice bauble like you always do. If she doesn’t tire of you first.”
“Quite the romantic view, you have,” James said dryly. “No wonder you’re with a different woman each week.”
“They know what they’re getting into when they become my lover. I make them no promises. Take note for your little infatuation.” Richard reached for his own towel. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to wash and get home. I’m leaving town for a month.”
“Visiting your factories?”
Unlike many second sons who received an allowance, Richard chose not to live a life of leisure. He was the owner of several successful factories and invested in other businesses. Both gave him an income to rival his brother’s.
Richard shrugged. “Among other things. The Duchess of Hastings is having a house party at her estate. I’ve a mind to attend.”
James raised his eyebrows. “You detest house parties.”
“This one has a certain incentive.” Before James could ask further questions, Richard started for the baths. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Another word of advice: the next time you want to distract yourself from your cock, don’t take it out on me.”
Chapter 8
Emma was beginning to understand why the Dumont women embraced ruin.
It began with temptation, a desire for things they could never have. For her grandmother and her mother, it had been the love of titled gentlemen. Emma strove for something so uncomplicated that it ought to have been the easiest thing in the world: she simply wanted.
Love, safety, a partner, friendship.
For a woman — especially a servant, even if she had the special designation of co-writer — these were too much. Emmaexpectedtoo much.
When she was a child, Emma’s father, The Duke of Southampton, would visit her mother's flat in Paris every so often. He travelled voraciously for an Englishman, and Emma suspected he had mistresses in the places he frequented most.
But he returned to Paris because Marie Dumont was the Great Beauty. Her passion, looks, and intelligence made her an ideal mistress.
Like her daughter, Marie was illegitimate and educated — which for an unmarried woman left few options for an income. She was too pretty and young to be a governess, so Marie’s body became her currency, and she wielded it like a weapon. Emma’s father could never resist her lure, and he never stayed away for long.Love cannot prevent complacency, darling, Emma’s mother had said.The key is to always leave him wanting more.
Emma had made the mistake of never asking her mother what to do if that wanting cut both ways.
She ought to have known that James Grey wasn’t a man she would be content with for a single night. Since the Masquerade, he’d occupied her thoughts most often in the dark, when she was alone in her bedchamber. She’d do as he asked and touch herself and say his name.
No — she’d whisper it, for it was her secret. There was too much risk in saying it aloud.
So Emma kept his name on a breath, until she saw him again.
