The Virtuous Courtesan. Mary BrendanЧитать онлайн книгу.
Sarah’s teeth closed on her ready retort. Gavin had a knack of touching on a very raw nerve. How well had she known Edward? It was a question that constantly tormented her.
Simply to occupy her fidgety hands, she busied herself with clattering cups on to saucers, forgetful of how inappropriate it was to offer one’s tormentor hospitality. In a daze she set about pouring the tea.
Was her trepidation born of anger? Fear? Modesty? Was it a calculated sham? How genuine an ingénue was she? Gavin watched her ruthlessly. His eyes roved the curvaceous lines of her buttoned-up back whilst he pondered the mystery of Sarah’s relationship with Edward.
His brother had obviously not seduced her with fake promises of marriage. Janet Stone’s name had been mentioned several times during the will reading and Sarah had not displayed any surprise at the existence of her late lover’s wife. So what had propelled such an exquisite beauty into Edward’s bed? He’d had wealth, but from what Gavin saw around him, had not lavished it on his delectable young mistress. Sarah’s home and her clothes looked serviceable rather than stylish, and if all her jewellery was contained within the box on the sofa she owned just a few modest pieces of gold and silver. Gavin was not surprised by his brother’s parsimony. Edward had advocated constraint and his character, like his physical attributes, were at best described as pleasant. All that remained was the possibility that Sarah had been in love with his brother. That conclusion should have brought solace…but it didn’t.
In a swirl of skirts Sarah turned about and held out his tea, a quantity of which now floated in the saucer. Gavin gripped her wrist to steady the clattering crockery before taking the offering. Having deposited it on a table, he slowly walked back to her. He stood quite still for a moment, gauging her reaction to his closeness. When she made no move to skitter away and her cool allure was too great a challenge to ignore, he raised a single finger, elevating her chin so she must look at him.
‘I’m not a monster, Sarah,’ he said softly. ‘Whatever Edward has told you about my wickedness is sure to be exaggerated.’
Sarah gazed, as though entranced, into eyes grown black with desire. His long fingers had fanned to cradle her jaw in a touch that was gentle yet firm. His extreme proximity brought a scent of sandalwood to tempt her closer to its source. Involuntarily her head swayed forward. A shoulder to lean on would be so very nice.
Why should she not agree? Would her acceptance of a proposition from notorious Gavin Stone be so very wrong? She had no way of truly knowing the level of this man’s licentiousness. Perhaps a natural jealousy of his handsome sibling might have led Edward to exaggerate Gavin’s faults. There was nobody she might ask about his alleged debts and debauchery. Joseph Pratt might call him a licentious fellow, but how valid was the word of a hypocrite? The more she thought sensibly on it, the more she realised it was highly likely the lawyer had called on her hoping to take advantage of her predicament, not to ease it.
Sarah had had very little experience with men. She knew nothing about the rakish bachelors who frequented Mayfair. She had lived in London until she was fifteen but, in the latter years, far away from the best locations. She had been gently bred, but after a calamity destroyed her family, a début was out of the question. She had not been launched into society to attend the balls and soirées where she might meet such sophisticates.
She could recall occasions when she was about twelve and her mama would sit with her friends, sipping tea and talking in whispers. Sarah had been old enough to understand that their hushed gossip concerned illicit liaisons—often those in which her own father was entangled—but was too young to grasp the whole sordid tale.
Not five years later she had become a gentleman’s mistress. But Edward had not seduced her in the true sense. She had been glad to take the protection he offered, for how much worse might her life have been had she not? She had not loved him and he had known that. He had nevertheless told her that he was fond of her. He had seemed gentle and kind…and accepting of the scars she bore from her traumatic childhood.
Apprehension crept along her spine. How gentle… how kind would his brother be? The brother who had mocked and insulted her and called her a harlot? How important to him was her physical beauty? Would he settle for a pretty face? She was not perfect…not at all…
‘I know you don’t trust me, Sarah,’ Gavin said softly.
Something akin to alarm jolted through Sarah for again it was as though she had spoken aloud what occupied her mind.
‘Did you trust Edward?’
‘Of course,’ she breathed.
‘Then why do you doubt the provision he has made for you? He wanted me to take over the role he played in your life. He did not intend you become my housekeeper. He intended you become my mistress.’
‘And are you happy that your brother has organised your future?’ she scoffed.
‘Of course I’m not happy about it,’ Gavin replied bluntly. ‘But I am willing to accept it.’
‘Because you want to claim your inheritance.’ The statement was tinged with acrimony.
‘Yes, I want my inheritance.’
Eyes that had become sleepy roved her figure.
‘And I want you.’
Her honey-coloured eyes flowed over the hard planes of his face, hoping to detect something repulsive that might free her from his spell. He had said he wanted her in a voice that was enticingly gruff with need. How much did he want her? Enough to overlook her flaws?
‘When first we learned of this madness in the lawyer’s office, you boasted you did not coerce unwilling women to sleep with you.’
‘I know,’ he admitted and a corner of his mouth tugged upwards. ‘So you must prove to me how very willing a partner you will be, Sarah, or I will be obliged to reject you simply to protect my integrity.’
Sarah gave him an exceedingly quizzical look.
‘Well…that apart, there’s also my vanity to consider.’
A spontaneous little laugh bubbled in her throat. It was stifled into the sound of a sob. It was a long while since she had shared a joke and somehow he could make her laugh with his self-deprecating humour. ‘You are a most conceited and arrogant man,’ she said with a half-hearted glower.
‘I know…’ His head drooped until barely a finger space separated their skin. ‘But you could soon cure me of it,’ he murmured.
‘Please don’t be flippant—’ Sarah managed a mild reproof before further words were stifled by a touch from his lips.
The light contact between them increased pressure as his mouth slid to mould to hers. She tasted warm and delicate and his male instinct was to immediately part her lips and plunge inside. But he felt the quiver of her uncertainty and knew it was no teasing response to inflame him. His wooing tongue tip began stroking the silky smoothness of her under lip, petitioning for entry.
Sarah felt blood surge through her veins. Edward had not kissed her in this way. In fact, Edward had not kissed her much at all. A peck on the cheek as a greeting, a perfunctory fusing together of mouths before the act of union; that was Sarah’s experience of being kissed by a man.
This was so very different. It was pure pleasure that made her limbs feel boneless. His hands were sliding over the undulating contours of her back to her hips, easing them closer to his. They remained there, lightly massaging her flesh, but he didn’t otherwise touch her intimately, although she’d expected he might.
Edward’s fingers would by now have breached her bodice; he might have fondled and tasted her breasts, for, tender as he’d been with her, he’d always taken his pleasure quickly.
Gavin seemed to enjoy kissing for kissing’s sake and Sarah realised with a sense of wonder that she did too. Her soft mouth clung to his, tracking its skilful movement until her lips were widely parted. Readily she accepted a caress from his tongue, tentatively