“There was the masquerade. Two in the hedge maze. Stealing a lady’s undergarments.” She frowned. “The mirror?”
He stiffened. “That was not on the list. I wished only to bring you pleasure.”
What a strange reaction. Had he thought that she would be upset that he had engaged her in an activity for which she would not be paid?
She winced. That phrasing made their relationship feel so transactional. Although, she supposed itwastransactional. She never would have come with him if it weren’t for the incentive of payment.
“If it is the money that concerns you,” Cordon said, “there is one more item we might complete tonight. To make you come apart the way I did in the maze, but within a conveyance.”
She straightened. “Here?”
The carriage hardly seemed large enough for such activity, and it wasn’t nearly as private as a room with a locked door.
He leaned forward, touching her chin with his fingers. “Here.”
Then he pressed her lips to hers, and it turned out that gentle rocking encouraged many positions that she hadn’t even thought possible. She attempted to stifle her moans, but when they finally arrived back at her shop, her ears burned when the footman let them out. She didn’t look at his face, for fear he’d heard what they’d done and might look at her slyly or with disgust.
Cordon snickered, then giggled, then burst into laughter. He put one hand against the wall and the other on his stomach, shaking with mirth.
“The way you avoided looking at my driver…” He wiped his tears away with a handkerchief he’d removed from his sleeve.
“He might have heard us,” she said while carefully maneuvering through her shop, navigating by the faint light and the crunch of different materials beneath her slippers. The softness of the carpet in front of her counter, then the smooth wood of the floor, slightly slippery from fabric shavings she’d forgotten to clean. She was getting close.
“My driver is quite old, Kitty. I must shout to have him hear me from an arm’s length away.”
“You could’ve told me.”
He scoffed. “And stop you from biting your cheek every time you moaned to suppress the sound?”
“Blackguard,” she said in a teasing tone. The whole situation was beyond ridiculous. She, a mere dressmaker, had accompanied a lord to what had to be one of the most scandalous events of the social season. As anxious as she’d been to attend the masquerade, nothing had gone wrong. She hadn’t been recognized. Her worries had been for naught.
He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Shall we go again?”
His confidence was as admirable as it was infuriating. As a lord, he would naturally be accustomed to everyone lower than him in status agreeing to his demands. No wonder her parents were so determined to join his set.
With that realization came a sense of pique and a desire to punish him, if only in a small way. So instead of melting into his embrace, she tickled his sides. He yelped and jerked away, but she remained close behind as he darted around the shop, laughing all the while. When she finally caught him, he lifted her onto her worktable, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.
It was nice not thinking about the future. Nice having someone with whom to enjoy herself. Was this how her parents felt when they spent money? If so, she could understand why they had such difficulty stopping. The heady draft of privilege was addictive.
Maybe focusing on herself wasn’t so bad. Only in tiny doses, of course, but if this was what could be achieved by indulging, then she had been missing out.
Things were going so well that when he kissed her, she met him with equal enthusiasm, even though there were dresses draped over the bolts in the corner of the room she had yet to put away and fabric scraps to sweep.
It was one night.
She could return to her responsibilities tomorrow.
Chapter Sixteen
“She is remarkable.”Cordon thumped his head against the back of the leather chaise in his billiard room and stared at the wood paneled ceiling through a haze of cigar smoke. “I have never tasted blood as sweet. Yet she is not my betrothed.”
Cordon’s nest brother Jonathan sitting across from Cordon in an identical chaise, twirled an unlit cigar in his hands, using the same dexterity that had made him one of Europe’s most accomplished art thieves. “You’re certain the human didn’t notice your bite?”
Cordon rubbed the space beneath his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. That was the question that had plagued him since leaving Kitty’s side. Hewasn’tsure. The night had started pleasantly enough with her melting beneath his touch but then had unraveled when he’d realized how far the rash Dr. Rysel had noticed had spread. It was difficult to focus on pleasure when he was preoccupied with his impending death. Even the prospect of drinking Kitty’s delicious blood again hadn’t been enough to shake his worry, although he’d done his best to keep Kitty from noticing anything.
“You should consult Marcus.” Jonathan flicked the cigar in the air, then caught it in his other hand. The man seemed to always be fidgeting with something. It was a miracle Cordon had convinced him to visit twice in one week.
“I see no reason to inform our brother,” Cordon said. “Kitty is hardly a threat.”
