Page 54 of What a Courtesan Wants
Without answering, he approached her, a smile stretched unchecked across his face. He cupped her cheek, and she rested against his palm, closing her eyes and releasing a little sound of relief.
Tilting her chin up so she looked at him, he murmured, “Kiss me again. Kiss me like you did in the rain.”
She obeyed him without hesitation, carefully looping her arms around his neck and molding her body to his before fitting their mouths together. Aubrey’s senses came alive with her—her scent flooding his nostrils, her taste overwhelming his palate, the feel of her in his arms and against his lips so achingly perfect. He held her tight, ignoring the little twinges it sent through his ribs. He couldn’t get close enough to her, couldn’t seem to sate the craving for her taste. He probed at the opening to her mouth and she let him in, whimpering as she flicked her tongue out to meet his.
His pain became nonexistent as desire took over, until he could think of nothing but undressing her and having her beneath him, moaning and writhing as he filled her with his cock and drank from her mouth.
They parted, albeit reluctantly, still clinging to one another as they drew in forceful breaths and stared into one another’s eyes.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Better than ever, thanks to you. I awoke with the devil of a headache, until I recalled something very important. You see, there’s this woman I adore, and I thought she could never return the sentiment. But I cannot seem to forget the sound of her voice as she told me she loved me while I was in pain. She held me and remained by my side and made sure I knew she was there, and that I was loved.”
She smiled back at him, though it was tentative as if she were afraid of him, of what he might say now that they had come face to face again.
“I meant it, Aubrey. Surely you must know that. It only took me a little time to see it.”
“I do know, Lucy. I knew the night of the party when we danced. I knew when you kissed me. I didn’t want to let myself believe it for fear you wouldn’t let yourself love me back.”
Her eyes grew mournful as she glanced at the painting of Magnus, which no longer hung over them like some sort of silent specter.
“Forgive me for fighting it, I only … well, I didn’t yet realize that loving you did not change the fact that I loved him. It doesn’t erase what he and I had, just as the fact that I was wed to him doesn’t diminish how much I love you.”
“No, it doesn’t. And I would be jealous of any living man who came before me, but I can’t help but be grateful for your Magnus. I heard you say that he is responsible for you becoming the woman standing before me right now, the woman I love. I am glad you belonged to him for a time, because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have you now.”
She relaxed a bit in his arms, seeming to accept his words and the truth behind them more readily than ever. Where before he’d been afraid to say such things to her for fear she would run from him, he now felt free to voice the feelings he’d kept to himself for so long.
“I am not a perfect woman.”
“I don’t need you to be perfect, I only need you to be mine.”
“I could never … I cannot give you … children.”
Her gaze dropped as if in shame, but he nudged her chin up and shook his head at her. “I have Elizabeth. She’s been my daughter for sixteen years and she’s nearly a woman grown. When she bears children of her own, I suppose that will be rather like becoming a grandfather. I’ll share them with you, if you want. You’ll be a great aunt.”
She smiled, emitting a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob as tears sprang to her eyes. “I would like that. And while I cannot bear children, Magnus ensured I was made a very wealthy woman.”
Aubrey shrugged one shoulder and scoffed. “Money is well and good, and I have some of that myself. Though, even that has no bearing on my desire to have you.”
Swiping at her tears, she then braced her first finger at her chin as if deep in thought. “Hmm. Well, you do not want children or money. Tell me then … what does a courtesan want more than anything?”
“Retired courtesan, my love. From now on the only arse I’ll be spanking is yours … and what a lovely arse it is. As to your question … this courtesan only wants one thing, and you’ve already given it to me. Your heart.”
“It is yours, Mr. Drake. Completely.”
Three weeks later,Mr. Aubrey Drake, linen-draper and haberdasher attended a dinner party with his niece in the home of the Dowager Countess of Lanhope, where it was announced that the two were engaged to be married. The party took on a festive air, with toasts to the happy couple going up over each course. The celebration was doubly poignant for Aubrey, who had overseen the opening of Rowland-Drake’s expansion last week. News had spread quickly, creating a rush of patrons, the income from the sales of new fabrics and trimmings far surpassing his expectations. If things continued as they were, a few months of profits would be enough to recoup what he’d spent on the renovation. By all accounts, the endeavor was a smashing success. Aubrey couldn’t have been happier if he’d tried to have both his personal life as well as his business flourish this way.
Naturally, his coming marriage further solidified Lucinda’s place as Elizabeth’s sponsor—which was shaping up to be quite the monumental task. Throughout the evening, it had become clear that the young Miss Barrett would prove to be quite popular amongst those on the lowest rungs of high society, which would prove far higher than any Drake or Barrett had ever climbed. While Aubrey could now rest easy in the knowledge that Elizabeth had been successfully brought out, he must now worry himself gray-haired over whom she might eventually wed. Lucinda continued to assure him that the girl would do well, after all, he’d raised her to be practical as well as intelligent. How could she go wrong making a match?
Other matters remained unsettled at the moment—such as who the writer ofThe London Gossiphappened to be and what she did or did not know about the Gentleman Courtesans. Dominick was still behaving erratically, quiet more often than not, and brooding and sulking in a way that was completely out of character. Benedict was carrying on with the courtesans, and while Aubrey was no longer one of them in name, he still felt an obligation to aid them in any way he could. After all, their founders were his friends, and many men who’d been in the same straits as him relied on the agency for income. He’d promised Benedict to help him puzzle out the mystery of the gossip columnist, as well as thinking up any solutions to the problem of exposure along with continuing to mold his protégé, Stephen, to follow in his footsteps.
As he sat in Lucy’s bedroom the night following the dinner party mulling these things over, Lucy stepped from behind her screen, undressed and freshly scrubbed. She’d been radiant tonight in a gown of yellow-gold satin, which had made her look like a priceless jewel in the glow of the candlelight.
His fiancée was even more beautiful now as she approached him, shrugging off her dressing gown as she came near. The curves of her sumptuous body came into view, her nipples obscured by the fall of silken blonde curls, but the rest of her on stunning display.
He’d been distracted, but she had his full attention now, pausing a few feet away and then sinking to her knees.
Hands resting on her thighs, head lowered, back arched to thrust her breasts forward, she was everything he could have ever wanted. A living breathing dream. His perfect fantasy.
