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A dark thrill unfurled in my stomach, moving lower to my groin. “Good. Follow me.”
CHAPTER3
Isabelle
This was madness.
I was letting Billy Baxter lead me outside of the club toward the street. I had no idea where we were going and my father was still missing.
So why was my heart beating so fast in my chest?
Now Bax knew my secret obsession with fancy French undergarments, the delicate, racy sort unavailable in America. This happened to be one of my favorite sets, red silk with white lace on each leg. Tiny beads in the lace shimmered in the light. I felt powerful and bold in these garments, which was precisely why I’d worn them this evening.
“You little vixen.”
I knew the ensemble was pretty, but Baxter’s reaction made me feel like the most gorgeous woman in the city. No one had ever regarded me so carefully and with such admiration. My father usually ignored me or treated me like I was an annoyance.
As if Bax could read my mind, he asked, “Does your father know you own such undergarments?”
“Good heavens, of course not.” Papa didn’t pay much attention to anything when it came to me. He was more concerned with his career and speeches.
“I am busy at the moment, Isabelle.”
“I haven’t any time for this, Isabelle.”
“You couldn’t possibly understand, Isabelle.”
But he was all I had. My only family, my rock. Yes, his causes came first, but I couldn’t complain. His hard work was making a difference for the people of New York.
I used to grow angry when he insisted that I refuse my invitations and stay home. But now that all my friends from finishing school had married, what would I do? They were much too busy with their own lives to spare me any time.
So the undergarments became my naughty secret. I got a thrill every time I put on one of the pieces. I felt less bored and pathetic in them. And in addition to what I owned, I had pages and pages of designs that I’d drawn. Patterns I dreamed of one day seeing produced for women to wear.
It was silly. My father would never allow such a scandalous enterprise, nor would a husband. No, my existence would continue to be dictated by the men in my life, while I waited at home, over and over until I died.
A depressing thought, but then women in my world weren’t bred for exciting lives. We were praised for our chastity and the ability to keep a man’s home. Which most days felt dashed unfair.
“What about the staff?” Bax asked.
“My maid is the only one who knows and she would never betray my trust. What I wear under my clothing is no one’s concern but my own.”
“And mine.”
“For now.”
A big hand wrapped around my upper arm and pulled me to a stop. Bax’s body was right there, pressed close to mine, and his heat sank under my skin. He put his mouth near my ear. “As long as you’re with me, I’m the only man to see those undergarments. If you show them to anyone else, he won’t live to draw another breath.”
The violence should have repelled me. This man was a hooligan, a killer. I should run far, far away from him.
Yet the rough threat excited me, and I swayed closer to his large frame. He smelled of tobacco, leather and gunpowder, and I had the strangest desire to press my lips to his.
Goodness, what was I doing? I could already hear my father’s disappointment. “People will only take advantage of you. You’re better off staying at home, Isabelle.”
I needed to keep my wits about me. This was to save my father. Nothing more.
“I have no intention of showing my undergarments to anyone,” I said.
Bax nodded. “Good girl. Let’s get in the carriage. I have a meeting a few blocks away, but it won’t take long.”
