Page 21 of Taming of the Rake
When Powell turned to face him with a dark scowl, David quickly wiped his grin away. “She is expecting me, I presume? Shall I just go in?”
Powell’s fists clenched as he glared at David, jaw working as if he chewed a mouthful of pebbles. When he finally spoke, it was with a cold precision that prickled David’s spine.
“I’ll be standing right outside this door until you leave. If she calls for me, I’m coming in and you will suffer an unfortunate accident resulting in the separation of your head from your shoulders.”
David’s hand went up to his throat before he could control the gesture, and for a split second he wondered if it might not be too late to back out of this arrangement. He had never been subjected to such a thing in his life. A bloody footman standing guard outside the door? And justwhy the hellwould Mrs. Hurst have cause to call out for her servant while she was in bed with him? If David did his job well—which he always did, thank you very much—it was his name she’d be screaming, not Powell’s.
But, he remembered the footman’s protective stance when he had first come to meet Mrs. Hurst. There was also the concern and care Powell had conveyed when asking David to consider her offer. The man obviously wanted to be assured he wouldn’t do his mistress harm, and since he was a virtual stranger David could hardly fault him for that.
“I can assure you, your lady is in the best of hands.”
Powell gave a stiff nod and then rapped on the door three times before stepping aside. David took that as his cue to enter. He found the room dark save for the fire in the hearth and a solitary lamp near the shadow of a large tester bed. He made out the outlines of more furniture, but couldn’t see much beyond the circle of yellow light illuminating the figure standing near the bed.
And suddenly, David didn’t want to see anything else, for he had laid eyes on his new client and he very much liked what he saw. Curiously, there was nothing titillating about her attire, which consisted of a heavy dressing gown—one that likely covered a white nightgown or chemise like the countless others he’d seen. And yet, she made a most alluring sight. The severe knot of hair he remembered from their first meeting was gone, and the coppery mass fell in a thick braid over one shoulder. The cinch of the robe’s belt around her waist offered a tantalizing preview of what was hidden underneath. Her face was as pale and luminous as the moon, her eyebrows bright slashes of red over the dark orbits of her eyes.
“Mr. Graham. Thank you for accepting my offer. You cannot know what this means to me.”
David wanted to approach, pull her against him and ease the stiffness from her back with a kiss. He could melt her with a single touch of his lips, and he knew it. Still, he held himself in check. There was something unnatural about her rigidity, as if she were using stillness as a means by which to keep herself grounded and present. The wide set to her eyes told him she wasn’t ready to be touched.
“There are no thanks needed. While I will obviously benefit from the arrangement, I truly want to help you.”
She dipped her head in a nod but refused to look at him. “I take it you received the bank draft I sent after signing the contract … your first payment?”
“I did.”
David remained where he stood, sensing there was more. Despite the dim lighting, he noted the twitch of her lips as if she wrestled over her words.
“Before we begin, I have a few guidelines I’d like you to observe.”
He raised his eyebrows at that, and not for the first time he found himself at a loss when it came to Mrs. Regina Hurst. It wasn’t uncommon for a new client to have a few limits, though with the women David had serviced those had been few and far between. Mrs. Hurst’s tone led him to believe he would be dealing with something grave. In fact, she sounded as if she anticipated facing the hangman’s noose rather than a night in bed with her courtesan.
“I’m listening.”
At the gentleness in his tone she glanced up, then started when she realized he had extended a hand to her. He hadn’t come any closer, leaving the choice of skin-to-skin contact completely on her.
“Mrs. Hurst … may I call you Regina?”
She hesitated only a moment, her gaze lifting to meet his. “I suppose that would be all right.”
“And you should call me David. We will be spending several nights a week together. I want you to feel comfortable with me. Whatever limits you wish me to skirt, I will gladly do so.”
That seemed to reassure her, and she took the few steps to close the gap between them, placing her hand in his. It was ice cold and shaking, so he laid his other atop it and lightly chafed the chilled skin.
“David,” she said, his name nothing more than a strained whisper. “I think it would be best if we established that this arrangement is strictly for the purposes of procreation. Mr. Lyons was most adamant about your … um … experience. However, I want you to know that you need not worry that I will require any … prolonged ministrations. Truly, the faster it is over, the better.”
David’s hold on her hand went slack and he felt certain his eyes were about to fall free from their sockets. It would seem this arrangement was set to introduce him to a wide range of firsts. Never in his life had he encountered a woman who wanted him to rush through bedsport.
“I don’t understand—”
“I’ll remain in my nightgown, and I’d like you to be clothed save for … well, you know.”
She waved her free hand in the general direction of his pelvis, as if she indicated a vase or a heap of horse manure. David wasn’t certain if he should be affronted on behalf of his cock.
“If you would refrain from placing your hands anywhere near my face or throat, I would appreciate it,” she went on, talking faster now, as if the first words had freed her. “We shall always lie face to face, and … and the lamp is to be doused.”
“Regina, do you really want me to take you to that bed and rut on you like … like some sort of …”
“Stud?” she offered with a little shrug of one shoulder. “With all due respect, Mr. Graham—”
