Chapter 22

The Following Wednesday

Io tugged on the silky hair of the man between her thighs. "No more—please, Masterson. I cannot."

His wicked tongue and lips paused their erotic labors and she felt him press a closed mouth kiss against her mound before prowling up her body beneath the blankets.

When his head emerged, his blond hair was an amusing mess. Who knew the painstakingly neat and tidy Corbin Masterson could look so disheveled?

And who would have guessed that such a fastidious man enjoyed orally pleasuring her so much?

"What are you smirking about?" he asked as he rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand.

She reached out and smoothed down his wild locks. "You look as if chickens have been nesting on your head."

"I wonder whose fault that is?" His lips twitched into that slight smirk that always made her belly tighten. The fact that his barely smiling lips were swollen and reddened from pleasuring her just made the sensation more intense.

But Io needed time to recover from the pleasure he'd just forced from her body before she commenced their next round of bed sport.

And so she purposely changed the subject to one that was not in the least erotic.

"Pol said you went with him to Tattersall's yesterday."

Corbin blinked at her question. "Er, yes. I did."

"He said you helped him with the documents he needed to sign. That was kind of you."

Masterson's cheeks flushed at her praise. "It was nothing. Besides, I was there to look for new bloodstock for His Grace." He paused and then asked, "Er, has Lord Apollo always had difficulty reading?"

"I think you can just call him Apollo when we are alone together. Indeed, I'm sure my brothers and sister would all appreciate you dropping the rather empty titles."

"I will continue to do as I have been doing, my lady. Regardless of where I put my lips."

Io laughed. "Naughty humor from stern Mr. Masterson. Who would have guessed it was possible?"

"I am not stern."

She rolled her eyes. "You are the sternest person I know—next to Zeus. And the most unreadable."

"You can't read my expression?"

"See," she said, pointing at him. "This is an excellent example of what I mean. You sound slightly disbelieving, but your handsome face merely looks bored."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Nonsense."

"It is true. Of course now that we are lovers, I get to see more than your Extremely Disapproving Mr. Masterson expression."

His eyelids lowered. "You do like to say my name that way, don't you?"

"What way do you mean, sir?"

"You know damned well what I mean."

She grinned. "I do like saying your name with that particular emphasis…Mr. Masterson. And you like to think of yourself as my master, don't you?"

"In bed, I do," he said, his big warm hand sliding over her hip and settling on her belly. "When it comes to mastering this magnificent body, I do."

They locked eyes and Io felt the heat began to build.

"I have something for you," he said gruffly, and then thrust his erection against her thigh.

Io hissed and he pumped his hips again. And then again, his lips parting, a slack, sensual look on his face as he rhythmically stroked.

Io chuckled and then reached down to close her hand around his length. "Are you humping my thigh, Masterson?"

Amusement joined lust in his dark gray gaze. "You are the most astonishing woman. I never know what you are going to say next."

Io did not think she flattered herself that he sounded more than a little admiring.

***

And yet another Wednesday…

"Did you follow me yesterday?" Io demanded the minute she walked into Room 320.

Masterson looked up from the bottle of wine he was opening, his eyebrows raised in that haughty, pretension-suppressing way he had. "Hello to you, too, my lady."

Io flung down her satchel and stripped off her gloves. "I am not in a mood to be toyed with. What I want to know, is—"

"Yes, I followed you yesterday," he said, pouring two glasses of ruby-colored wine.

"Damnit, Masterson!" Io flung her gloves at the console table, missing it completely.

"If you don't want me to follow you then you should bring your maid," he said coolly, bending over to pick up her gloves and then setting them on the table beside his own before turning to her. "You know I work for your brother. And after what happened this last Saturday, he yet again tasked me with—"

She lifted a hand. "Please. I have heard it before."

"Then you should be accustomed to it and not harangue me on the subject," he retorted, and then handed her the wine.

Io snatched the glass from him and the liquid almost sloshed over the side. She hated that Zeus asked Masterson to follow her and, for once, her brother had a very good reason to doubt her common sense.

Last Saturday had been a disaster. She had gone to meet Gordon and several of his cohorts at a coffee shop in a part of town that was, granted, less than sterling. Moira had wanted to see her swain and it was her usual half-day, so Io had gone without a maid.

And had been caught in the middle of a riot.

Only the fact that Masterson had been in a handsome cab behind Io's had saved her from a very nasty afternoon. The crowd, ironically whipped up by Gordon and his cronies, had quickly turned into an unstoppable mob that had attacked friend and foe alike.

When a handful of protesters-turned-ruffians had begun to rock her cab—after the driver had fled—only Masterson and his pistol had stopped the men.

He'd not spoken a word to her on the way home. When they'd reached the foyer, he'd only uttered a few terse words. "You should change your clothing immediately. Your skirt is badly torn in the back." And then he'd pivoted on his heel, heading back out the front door.

"Are you going to tell Zeus?" she'd called after him.

Masterson had opened his mouth, but it had been Edith's voice that had filled the foyer.

"If he does not, then I will."

Io had looked up to find Edith standing on the second-floor landing, smiling nastily.

And so that had been that.

The rest of the day had been wretched, at least an hour of it spent with Zeus—thankfully alone—explaining what had happened. Strangely enough, her brother had believed that it had not been her fault. Although he'd rightfully been annoyed that she'd not taken one of his carriages, he'd at least understood why she'd not wanted to ride in such a conspicuous vehicle.

When Zeus had finished with her then Eva, Ares, and Pol had had their angry say. Io had truly been in everyone's black book.

That had been the disaster on Saturday. But yesterday was Tuesday, so—

"Io?"

She looked up from her thoughts and scowled at him. "What?" she demanded rudely.

"I know you are not angry about yesterday. What is the real reason you are so furious today?" Masterson asked, only lowering himself into a chair after she did.

Io wanted to argue, but she was too weary and he was, after all, right. She heaved an irritable sigh. "Why do you think?"

"Did you tangle with Miss Barrymore again?"

"Me tangle with her?"Io's eyes threatened to bulge out of her head. "She tangled with me. What is wrong with that woman? And that was a rhetorical question before you tell me what a lady she is."

He sipped his wine, his expression unreadable.

Io hated how the only time she could tell what he was thinking was when they were engaging in sex. At any other time, he was more sphinxlike than the Sphinx.

"Edith will not be happy until all of us have gone back to New York—or, better yet, died on a sinking ship while headed back," Io said, gulping half her glass in one swig.

This time, she did see an emotion on Masterson's face before he schooled his expression. "Miss Barrymore is very…rigid, but she does not hate you, Io."

Io snorted. "You only see what you want to see, Corbin. If you opened your eyes—and your ears—you would realize that she spends all her time thinking of ways to drive a wedge between the five of us and Zeus." She tossed back the rest of her wine and stood. "No, you sit—I can fill my own glass." She could see he wanted to argue, but he stayed where he was while she slopped wine into her glass, her hand still shaking from how angry Edith had made her.

"What did she say, Io?" he asked when she returned to her chair and dropped gracelessly into it.

"She was harping on Apollo again. We were at breakfast and you know he hardly comes around these days."

His eyebrows arched with surprise. "Miss Barrymore came to breakfast? I thought she usually ate in her room."

"She does. All I can think is that she came down especially to take digs at him." Io turned the glass in her hand, seeing her brother's face instead of the rich red liquid. "I was so happy to see him and we were talking about going riding in the park when she came in and started making sly comments about all the riding Pol did."

Io was terrified that Edith knew about Pol—terrified that she would use who he was as a weapon against him.

Why else would the woman hound her brother so relentlessly?

She hoped it was merely Edith's inclination to pick on people who did not fight back—like her cousin Susan because she couldn't stand up for herself and like quiet introverted Pol who wouldn't stand up to her—but she was afraid the woman knew the truth.

Io slanted Corbin a look. Sometimes she thought the canny man might have guessed her brother's secret. But she could never be the one to say anything first. What if he was as awful and self-righteous as Edith on the subject? She didn't want to think of her lover that way, but there was no denying that Masterson was a pious man. Or at least he had been before these Wednesdays.

Io slanted a look at Masterson, but for once he wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was gazing down at his glass. Judging by the slump of his broad shoulders the subject of Edith and her squabbles with the younger Hales was one that made him miserable, as well.

Here they were in this room for only a few hours—the best hours of her week—and she was wasting it talking about her brother's fiancée!

Io set down her glass, stood, and began to unbutton the wrists on her long-sleeved navy wool walking dress.

When Masterson looked up and saw she was on her feet he began to get up.

"No. Stay where you are," Io said, smiling to soften her words.

He sank back in his chair and stared up at her with heated eyes.

***

Corbin wasn't surprised by the argument they'd just had. It had been a mistake to let things fester without exchanging a word since Saturday.

It had not been Io's fault that the idiots Gordon had been riling up had erupted and run amok.

But the woman needed to start taking the family carriage—regardless of what attention it garnered—and bringing along the big footmen her brother employed.

Corbin shuddered to think what might have happened if he'd not been there. Certainly, the cab driver had not stayed to help. As for Gordon, he might have come to Io's aid if he'd not been all but trampled by his own supporters.

In any event, he wouldn't have said anything to Hastings about it. He'd already decided he would take care of Io in his own way. To hell with his loyalty to his friend. Wasn't he already destroying that every week by fucking the man's sister?

Suddenly, Io stood.

Corbin began to get to his feet, the action reflexive.

"No. Stay where you are," she said, her hands going to the button closures on her simple but flattering blue gown.

And then she began to undress.

His cock, which had wilted when they'd begun bickering, was instantly interested in this change in plans.

Her eyelids lowered and her moves were languid, sensuous. She unfastened first one tight sleeve from wrist to elbow, and then the other.

Corbin swallowed when she switched to the front of her gown and he spread his thighs a little to give his cramped erection a bit of room.

Her dress was one of the artistic sort—or perhaps it was dress reform, he wasn't sure of the terminology—and the fabric was of a quality that only a wealthy woman could afford, but it was designed for a woman to put on and remove without the services of a maid.

It had buttons all the way down the front—from the prim white collar to the hem of the full, sweeping skirt—but her hands stopped once she'd unfastened the button just above her mound.

Corbin realized he was still holding his wine glass—squeezing it—because his hand hurt and he tossed back the rest of the wine and set the empty glass on the end table without looking, fortunate that he didn't drop the damned thing onto the floor.

When she shrugged the loosened gown off her shoulders Corbin sucked in a breath at what she wore beneath.

His eyes darted upward to meet hers. "A corset?" he said in a raspy voice.

She nodded slowly and stepped out of the puddled gown.

"I thought you didn't believe in them?"

"I don't for everyday wear." Her smile was slow and wicked. "But Wednesdays are special. I wore this for you, Masterson." She paused and held her arms out to the side, encouraging him to look his fill.

Corbin didn't hesitate, his greedy gaze flickering over the straps of the whisper-thin pale pink chemise and the black and pink striped corset that ran from her hips over a ridiculously small waist and thrust up Io's full breasts.

He was on his feet before he'd even thought it, hands reaching to feel her.

Io was a tall woman—easily five foot six—without her heeled ankle boots she was a good six inches shorter than Corbin. Although she had a personality big enough for a three hundred pound, six-foot five stevedore.

"What are you smirking about?" she asked, her neck craned to look up at him while he stroked from the full curve of her hips over her tiny waist up to those delectable breasts.

"Was I?" he murmured absently, dragging a finger over the spot where the lace of her chemise met the unspeakably soft skin of her breasts.

"You were," she retorted, but she sounded almost as distracted as he felt.

Corbin slid his hands back down to her waist and spread them out, her waist feeling even smaller than it looked.

He met her heavy-lidded gaze. "You look very attractive in these garments," he said.

"That was the idea."

"But you never need to dress any way other than how you want, Io. Not for me."

"I know. That's why I did it."

He barked a laugh. "Contrarian."

Her hands settled on Corbin's hips and her fingers dug into the wool suiting and his buttocks beneath. "I want to crawl into bed with you and not get out again until we have to leave." Her eyes lowered—something she had never done—and Corbin noticed the tension in her jaw as she gazed at the floor, her body suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his hands.

Corbin nudged her chin with his knuckle until she looked up at him. "We can do whatever you want, sweetheart."

He had believed that Io didn't like him to be tender—that she only wanted his spankings and the sharp edge of his tongue—but she melted into his arms and he caught her up and held her against his chest, carrying her to the bed.

She might like to call what they did having sex or fucking. But today Corbin was going to do what he wanted.

He was going to make love to her.

***

When Corbin's arms swept her up Io had the oddest urge to cry. She had no idea what had come over her—why she was surrendering herself so utterly and completely—but suddenly she needed to be held by strong arms. Not because she couldn't take care of herself. Not because she needed a man.

But because she wanted one. And not just any man. Only the one currently laying her out on the bed with such tenderness.

She was suddenly so very tired.

Io watched from beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he dimmed the gaslight until it was barely a glow, pulled the heavy drapes shut, and then stripped off his clothing quickly and efficiently.

He was such a beautiful man—not just his exterior, but the person who inhabited the strong, masculine body. He was gentle and caring and protective.

She knew he wanted to be all those things for her.

And, for today, Io would let him.

Surely that wasn't so bad? To rely on Corbin's seemingly endless reserves of strength for a few hours? Was it a crime to not always be strong?

Just for a while. Tomorrow she would pick up her weapons and fight the good fight.

Tomorrow…

The mattress dipped and Io woke with a start. "Oh! I must have fallen asleep for a few seconds. I'm so sorry, Masterson. I don't know what—"

"Shhh," Corbin murmured into her hair before kissing her temple and wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her close so that her head was resting on his biceps. "You need to rest for a little while."

"But—"

"Rest," he murmured.

And that was the last thing Io heard.