I can’t afford hothouse flowers.”
“You don’t have a hothouse?”
“I do, but it’s taken up with growing food,” he said, letting her amble around as she chose.
“Why does it smell good in here?”
“There’s cinnamon in that little pot by the hearth.” He shrugged out of his jacket. “Occasionally, I’ll burn a scented candle. Then too, I make lavender and rosemary sachets to sell in Town, and my linens and wardrobe are scented with both.”
“You’re very enterprising,” Vivian said, studying the room rather than the man removing his clothes so casually. The bed was huge, as it would have to be for a fellow of his dimensions, and raised up one step, for warmth. The bed hangings were a rich green velvet, the linens snowy white, and the entire thing looked far too comfy for what was going to happen there.
“If I’m to have any comforts at all”—Darius was pulling his shirt over his head—“then enterprise is necessary. What did you decide about the lawn tent?”
“It’s up to me?”
“It’s up to you.” He sat on the raised hearth to tug off his boots.
“Why are you so casual about disrobing?”
“I don’t think of it as disrobing.” His stockings followed. “I think of it as getting into my livery. The fit is superb.”
She did not want to smack him,
“It’s honest.” He rose, wearing only his breeches. “In truth, Vivvie, I want to be naked for you. I want you to desire what you see. I want to please you.”
He was slipping further into his role as seducer, and Vivian wanted to howl at the shift. His eyes became slumberous, the pitch of his voice dropped, and his spine curved a bit, to let him strut rather than walk toward her.
“Stop this immediately.”
He halted his progress toward her, holding her gaze. “Stop what?”
What words could she use? “I don’t want to be a job, a task, an obligation.”
His expression darkened. “You’ve known me for a week, Vivian. This is business. Pleasurable business, one hopes, but business. I
“I know.” She sat on the bed, disgruntled, impatient, and not at all willing to be seduced. “But sometimes people can be friends when they’ve business to transact. William is friends with his cronies from the Lords. They argue, fight, and scheme against one another, but they’re friends.”
“Interesting form of friendship.” Darius lowered himself beside her. “I can’t have you getting silly notions, Vivvie. When you leave here, we’re done.”
“You’ve said as much.”
“It has to be that way, for the sake of the child.” He took her hand, which was some consolation. “You cannot have this child raised with rumors regarding paternity. Whispers like that haunt a person. I know, because they’ve haunted my sister Leah her entire life and excused all manner of poor behavior on my father’s part.”
“That is dreadful.”
“More dreadful for her, but you comprehend that when we’re done with this little winter idyll, Vivian, we’re strangers again. Worse than strangers, because a man of my reputation would seldom cross your social orbit unless I’m escorting my sister.”
“I don’t believe that.” She leaned against him, resenting his insistence on this discussion. He was an earl’s spare, and they often became MPs, and she entertained MPs in quantity at William’s table.
“Believe it.” He petted her hand. “The people I keep company with late at night would make you cringe, Vivvie. They’ve turned being mean into a hobby. You don’t want them getting wind we were connected.”
She stayed silent—she could hardly argue this point—until he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “This is not lighthearted conversation, and flirtation should be lighthearted, my lady.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“I honestly don’t know what to call it.” He rose, his tone both impatient and amused. “I intend to pleasure you tonight, Vivvie. So make your decision about the lawn tent.”
He stepped out of his breeches, folding them over a chair with the rest of his clothes, then got the warmer, filled it with coals, and ran it over the sheets. Something about the matter-of-fact, any-night-of-the-week nature of the activity gave Vivian courage. If he could consider this a passing romp, so could she. She dragged the lawn tent over her head and stood by the side of the bed, clutching it to her chest.
Because then again, she had no notion of what a romp,
“Brave Vivvie.” He set the warmer aside. “Your courage will be rewarded.”
His smile told her how much he approved as he crossed the room in a few slow, easy strides. He stood right next to her, naked, reminding her of how tall and muscular he truly was, but thank Jesus and the angels, he didn’t tug the nightgown away.
He leaned down and ran his nose along the curve of her shoulder. Because her hands were full of nightgown, she could only stand there and let him inspect her naked person with his nose.
“Relax, Vivvie.” She felt him tugging on the nightgown gently. “The bed is nice and warm, we have all night, and you’re going to enjoy it.”
She nodded, but his nose tickled where he ran it over her shoulder. Then his lips settled at that spot where her shoulder joined her neck, and Vivian comprehended what it meant when a woman’s knees went weak.
“Hold on to me, Vivvie,” he coaxed, and she did, with one hand on his bicep and the other clutching her nightgown to her chest. He pushed her with his chest until she was sitting on the bed, him looming over her, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her temple, and sending heat cascading out along her limbs. He stood between her legs, denying her his mouth on hers until Vivian let the nightgown go and used both hands in his hair to hold him still so she could kiss him properly.
Improperly, she corrected herself, opening her mouth immediately under his. But still, he was damnably coy, only teasing her with his tongue before skating away to press a kiss to her cheek or take her earlobe into his mouth.
She flinched. “That tickles.”
“Behold.” He held her gaze with amused solemnity. “She drops the nightgown.” He went to his knees between her legs and wrapped his arms around her waist before Vivian could recover her shield. “You’re as lovely as I imagined you’d be, and your nipples are the exact right shade of pink.”
“Hush,” she managed, but he was pressing his cheek to her exposed breast, ignoring the nightgown pooled in her lap. “I want the candles out.”
“You won’t, later,” he promised, taking one nipple in his mouth. And just when Vivian’s back arched into the heat of that mouth, he rose abruptly and began blowing out candles. “Though I’ve no doubt we’ll both be too weak to leave the bed, so maybe blowing the candles out now is a good idea.” He paused between candles to give her a brooding look. “Safer.”
But it did not help, not one bit, to see his lean, naked flanks gilded by firelight, to see the red highlights in his sable hair, to see the night shadows on the handsome planes of his face.
He came back to the bed and considered her. “How about if we fold this”—he raveled up her nightgown—“at the foot of the bed?”
She let him have it, one handful at a time, knowing her blush was obvious even in subdued light. She turned her face away when he had the entire garment, and sat naked before a man for the first time in her life. He took an eternity to drape the nightgown across the bottom of the bed, and when he turned back to her, Vivian could see the beginnings of arousal stirring his…
She nodded at his parts. “What does one call this?”
