Lord Trent: Love's Price Part 9

While her situation was hardly ideal, he'd provided her with steady employment, with a secure environment and numerous gifts-that being the clothes he'd selected especially for her-yet she insulted him by refusing it all.

If he hadn't been so stunned by her lack of grat.i.tude, he'd have been incensed. Women all over London wished he would shower them with attention, and he'd finally deigned to display a tiny bit of interest in Helen, but she couldn't care less.

He would not permit her to leave him! He couldn't explain why, but the issue mattered to him very much.

The coach halted again, and the door was opened. He leapt out, thrilled to note that they had pa.s.sed her. She was trudging along, head down, bag in hand, so she hadn't noticed that she was proceeding straight to him.

As he watched her come, a confusing wave of affection and irritation warred inside him. He was furious with her; he was so glad he'd found her before she could vanish.

She neared, not looking where she was going until she was close enough to view his boots and grasp that someone was blocking her way.

"Pardon me," she mumbled, glancing up. On seeing him, she blanched and stumbled back.

"h.e.l.lo, Helen."

"What do you want?"

"I saw you walking. I thought you might like a ride."

"I don't need a ride."

"Then I ought to mention that you're traveling in the wrong direction. My house is that way." He pointed behind her.

"I won't go back there."

"Of course you will, and if you don't come with me in my carriage, you won't be able to dress in time for supper. We're dining together, and you're to wear your new gown, remember? Don't tell me you've forgotten my invitation."

"I didn't forget," she said very quietly.

They stared and stared, her green eyes poignant and mesmerizing, and he was overcome by a desperate urge to pull her into his arms.

"Get in the carriage, Helen," he said.

She dithered, wanting to argue or refuse, but she recognized that it would be a waste of breath. He was determined that she stay on, so stay on she would.

"You promised there would be no gambling," she charged, appearing hurt and sad.

"I lied."

"I can't believe you admit it."

He shrugged. "I have many faults. Lying is the least of them."

"That doesn't mean it's right for you to do it."

"I didn't say it was right. I'm simply stating the facts."

He nodded to the coach where his outriders were hanging on their every word.

"Let's go."

She plodded past him, looking again as if he was torturing her on the rack. Why did he make her so miserable? Why was she so unhappy? Why was he so upset that she was?

He helped her in, then he climbed in after her, and he scooted over so he was very close, so their thighs were touching.

She gazed at him and claimed, "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"You're a bully, and you're being so cruel to me."

"I'm not being cruel, Helen. I'm really not."

"Then why are you treating me this way?"

"I don't know."

"I can't return to your house."

"And I can't let you tot off on your own."

"So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know that either."

He bent down and kissed her as he'd been yearning to do. He had such vivid memories of their earlier embrace, and he was certain that-in his mind-he recollected it as being much more wonderful than it actually had been. He was positive that a second kiss would prove to be average or even boring, but the instant his mouth was joined to hers, he was once again seared with ecstasy.

She might have protested or pushed him away, but she didn't, so cad that he was, he convinced himself that she welcomed his advance.

With slight pressure of his lips to hers, he eased her into the corner and kissed her fully as he should have done the first time. Perhaps if he'd lingered over the initial event, he'd have had his fill of her and quelled any desire to do it again.

On this occasion, he wouldn't make the same mistake. He would continue on until he'd slaked his strange, unrelenting need for her, but to his surprise, the longer he dawdled, the more he craved. He wished the moment would never end, but she had more sense than he, and she drew away.

"Please," she said, "I'm dizzy. I can't breathe."

"Good."

"You overwhelm me with your attentions. When you start in, I don't know how to make you stop."

"I don't want to stop."

"What happens now?" she asked, glancing away.

"Now...we go home."

"Miss Wilson will have a fit."

"It doesn't matter. I want you there, and that's all that counts."

"You never listen to me."

"I would-if you ever said anything worth hearing."

"What about your gambling? Will you desist?"

"I have to gamble, Helen."

"You have to? Are you telling me you're addicted to it?"

"No. I would never be that foolish."

"Why do you do it then?"

"My father squandered our fortune. When he pa.s.sed away, my brother and I were broke, yet suddenly, I owned many large properties and was responsible for the welfare of thousands of people. I had to wager to earn money."

"And now? You keep on because you like it?"

"No. I'm winning back what my father's acquaintances stole from us. He was a drunkard, and they were supposed to be his friends. They took advantage of him, and I am determined to regain what is rightfully mine."

He couldn't believe he'd confided in her. With the exception of Tristan, he never discussed his father or their finances, and he suffered a wave of panic. He'd never trusted a woman with so much personal information, and he'd given her many ways to cripple him. Would she babble and gossip to others?

While he couldn't imagine her betraying him, who could predict what a female might do?

"Can you understand why I must continue?" he inquired.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I approve."

"I told you I have many faults. This is one more. Can you put up with it-for me? Because I'm asking you to?"

For a long while, she was silent, then she sighed. "I don't want to ever know anything about it. I don't want to see it occurring or meet any of the men who visit you."

"You won't have to."

She leaned her head against the squab and groaned with dismay. "I am so gullible. Why do I allow you to manipulate me like this?"

"You're crazy about me."

"Only in your wildest dreams."

He kissed her again, and briefly, she permitted the embrace before she shoved him away.

"It will be all right," he murmured. "Don't worry so much."

"Oh, Lord Westwood-"

"Call me James."

"I can't. This is all so wrong."

"No, it's not."

"It is. It's wrong."

Was it? In all his years as a grown male, he'd never seduced a servant, but then, he'd never been attracted to any of his maids the way he was attracted to her. When they shared such a strong bond, when they generated such a lively spark, why not act on it?

"We're both adults, Helen," he said. "We can do whatever we want."

"You can maybe, but I certainly can't."

"And why can't you? You're twenty, and you have no family ties to prevent you from doing whatever you wish. You're living in my home and under my protection. We can carry on however we please."

"You're mad."

"Mad about you. I want us to be lovers."

"Lovers! Have you any idea how sordid that sounds? I'm not some doxy. I'm a gently-reared governess and lady's companion. I would never consider such a thing, and I'm insulted that you suggest it."

"We'll be very discreet. No one will know."

She scoffed. "You can't be that nave. It's not the kind of secret that can be kept."

"Fine then. Be my mistress."

He hadn't realized he was about to make the offer, but with the prospect having been broached, he was elated to have proposed it.

His mistress! Yes! It was the perfect solution.

She was beautiful and educated and graceful. He could set her up in a cozy house, could buy her a stylish wardrobe and carriage, could hire her a cadre of the best servants. Every man in town would be green with envy.

"Your...your...mistress!" she stammered. "I swear, with each word you utter, I'm more shocked."

"It's what I want. Say yes."

"I can't."

"And what is your alternative? Will you scamper after Miranda, suffering her invectives and disdain?"

"You could just let me go to Mrs. Ford so I can find another position."

"Never," he vehemently a.s.serted. "I will never let you go."

The coach halted in his driveway, and when the door was opened, James handed her out to a waiting footman, then he followed her inside.

As they entered, Miranda was hurrying toward them, a.s.suming he'd returned alone.

"Miss Stewart!" she snapped, obviously stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come back-like a bad penny."