Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"You left the card room last night like you were late for an appointment." Theo studied her in the confines of his carriage, his eyes a smouldering azure. "Do you regret our experiment?"

Regret feeling a passion she did not know existed?

Regret feeling close to a man for the first time in her life?

Regret this delicious obsession?

Heaven help her, she should.

She should be cursing her stupidity.

"No. I'm only sorry we were interrupted. I suspect Aaron rode in on his metaphorical white charger intending to save my virtue."

"He wished to prevent us both from making a mistake. He told me so when he ordered me into his study and dragged me over hot coals."

Did Aaron fear living alone at Fortune's Den? Did he hope Theo would set his sights on a lady, not a lowly modiste? Despite their upbringing, the men had an aristocrat's blood.

"For what? Seducing me on a card table?"

His slow smile became a confident grin. "You've been seducing me since you stormed into the theatre box, threatening to hound me night and day until I give you what you want."

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

So much had changed since then.

"Did you get what you wanted, Eleanor?"

"Did you?"

He laughed. "I left the card room feeling like I'd emptied the Marquess of Rothley's purse."

"Is that a good thing?" She knew her clients found the marquess to be an enigma. The largest dowry in all Christendom would not convince him to marry. According to gossip, he was amoral. A hedonist.

"An exceptionally good thing. After our amorous interlude, I'm obsessed with plums. I'm obsessed with you, Eleanor."

Any woman would melt upon hearing his declaration. Every heart longed to hear sweet whispers of affection. But would these intense emotions fade with time? Would their friendship survive when lust released them from its talon-like grip?

"What happened to the pie?" she said, changing the subject.

"Aaron wanted a piece but declined, saying it looked like it had been ravaged by wolves." His voice took on a husky gravel. "I didn't tell him it's because we ate it without cutlery. Shall I send Sigmund to Breadwell's and order another for tonight? "

Her pulse raced.

Last night had been magnificent, but she would be a fool to believe this affair would end well. Despite her donning steel armour, this man had stolen her heart. What hope had she of reclaiming it now?

"I meant what I said to Aaron. I must return home today." The thought filled her with dread. "Working to find the villain must be my priority."

He said nothing for a moment and simply stared as if she'd spoken a foreign language. "I would rather you remained at Fortune's Den until the culprit is in custody."

"There's no need. Mr Gibbs will guard my premises." She swallowed past a lump in her throat. This was harder than expected. "Perhaps we might dine together at the Pheasant once we've visited Emily."

He smiled. "I'd like that."

Pleasing Theo Chance was like waking to a beautiful day. It left every part of her being infused in a warm glow.

Theo asked his coachman to park on Water Lane so they might access the premises via the yard. Mr Franklin and the other shopkeepers doubtless had a myriad of questions, but she hadn't the strength to deal with their interference today.

There wasn't a shard of glass in the yard, not one weed growing between the cracks in the paving. The back door did not swing ominously back and forth in the wind. It was new and painted dark green.

Theo removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. "Some cultures believe green is lucky."

She smiled though she felt like crying. How had he fixed things so quickly? "I always thought green was the colour of envy."

"Perhaps that's true. Every modiste in London wishes they had your talent." He looked at her and winked. "When a man gives you a compliment, you're allowed to say thank you."

She drank in his handsome countenance. "Thank you." She would be the envy of every woman in London because she had kissed him.

They were walking past the fitting rooms when Mr Gibbs yanked back the curtain at the end of the corridor and growled like a bear. "Who goes there?" He met Theo's gaze and glanced heavenward. "Only thieves and beggars sneak in through the back door. You should have said you were coming. I might have shot first and asked questions later."

"You're not holding a pistol," Theo countered.

Mr Gibbs whipped a pistol out of his greatcoat pocket. "I could put a lead ball in your shoulder before you take your next breath."

Although Theo laughed, Eleanor took umbrage. "How insensitive, Mr Gibbs. You might recall Mr Chance was shot in the shoulder outside my premises."

"Aye, and like a ninny, he lay in bed moaning for days."

"Have you ever taken a bullet, sir?" The man might be built like a marble effigy of Goliath but was he experienced enough to comment?

"Twice, miss. My scars make Aaron Chance's look like cat scratches. Now, have you locked the back door?"

"I'm not an imbecile." Theo ushered the fellow into the shop. "Do you have any information to share? Has anyone else tried to gain entrance since we last spoke?"

"A few nosy shopkeepers came knocking, wanting to know if the peelers had caught the intruder. Seems they think those sailors on the merchant ships are out to cause trouble."

Eleanor entered the shop, her breath catching in her throat. What was once a scene of chaos and destruction now gleamed with meticulous order. The polished oak floor sparkled. Pretty combs and kidskin gloves filled the fixed drawers and cabinets. Large vases of silk flowers stood on two plinths near the doorway. There was a new gilt mirror and plush velvet chairs.

It was like stepping into a dream, a heavenly dream.

Her throat tightened. She looked at Theo, who was busy quizzing Mr Gibbs and felt the pierce of Cupid's arrow. He had done this. He had not boasted or sought praise or tried to claim a reward.

She moved past them into the hall and climbed the stairs, desperate to see what he'd done with the other rooms. She had to grip the storeroom door before her knees buckled in shock. Bolts of colourful fabrics filled the shelves. Silk and satins. Linen and lace. There were boxes of buttons, rolls of ribbon. A new mannequin and expensive walnut drawers.

Tears filled her eyes.

She was done for.

There was no coming back from this. Love had taken command of her heart and soul. Theo owned her now. No other man could ever compare.

But what of her bedchamber?

Her whole body shook when she reached the upper floor.

The door creaked as she pushed it open. A peek inside brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. The room was immaculate, her clothes removed to the armoire, her bed made without a crease in the sheets. Her mother's blanket was folded neatly on the chair. He'd bought her a new diary and pencil and left them on the nightstand, next to a single pink rose in a bud vase.

It wasn't the endless expense that left her sobbing like a babe. This act of kindness was beyond anything she had ever encountered.

"Is everything all right?" Theo entered the room, his masculine presence commanding the space. "You're crying. Have I overstepped the mark? I know how you value your independence. I know you're quite capable of dealing with this on your own, but I had to put things right, Eleanor."

She dashed tears from her cheeks but more fell. "You didn't steal my diary," she said, gesturing to the nightstand. "I've never had a flower by my bed. You've done more than tidy the shop, Theo."

There were too many thoughtful gestures to mention.

He closed the gap between them, his large hands resting on her shoulders. "Forgive me. I'm a bold brigadier and insisted the jobs were done with military precision." His gaze softened. "And I thought you might like to have a flower by your bed. There's beauty in this world. We'd both do well to remember that."

The rose paled next to him.

He was so beautiful he stole her breath.

Another sob escaped her, but he cupped her cheeks and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "You'll be the most famous modiste in London. I swear they'll be queueing all the way to St Paul's just to wear your exclusive designs."

The thought brought no surge of joy or pang of happiness. "Being a famous modiste was never my dream."

"What is your dream?" he whispered.

She looked at his mouth. He was a dream come true. A friend she could trust. A valued confidant. Someone to love. "I have never given it much thought."

"Perhaps you should."

Their gazes locked for a heartbeat .

Their lips met as if pulled by a magnetic force. The kiss was soft and slow and achingly sensual, and when their mouths parted, they were panting.

"Gibbs left to visit Daventry and to fetch provisions. Apparently, he eats enough for three men. He won't be back for two hours. I thought you might take advantage of his absence to wash and change your clothes. I can heat the water if you want to bathe."

She smiled. They were alone, without interruption. It was time to reward him for his efforts. "So you're done playing the brigadier and now wish to be my footman."

His gaze dipped to her chin, then a little lower. "I'd rather be your maid than your footman. I've wanted to strip you out of your clothes for as long as I can remember."

The air between them crackled with unsated desire. The need for physical contact was as compelling as the need to breathe.

"Perhaps I would make a good valet," she said, sliding her hands up his chest to open the top button on his waistcoat.

Theo clasped her hands to stall her. "Have a care. You know where this will lead. Do you want me inside you? Do you want to lose something precious? I suggest you consider those points carefully before you unfasten another button."

She took a moment to do as he asked. She didn't hear her father's stern voice berating her decisions, insisting he knew best. For once, she was a master of her own destiny. And Theodore Chance was the only thing she wanted.

"I'm not about to lose anything," she said, prompting him to release her hands. "I'm about to make a trade."

"A trade?" he said, intrigued.

"My virginity for a memory that will last a lifetime." She gripped his waistcoat and tore it open. The expensive buttons went skittering across the floor. "I want you, Theo, and I mean to have you."

He wasn't angry or shocked but glanced at his torn waistcoat and grinned. "I always said you were my kind of scoundrel." His voice had a husky quality, each word laced with raw intensity. "Now you must finish what you started."

Nerves assailed her, but she'd not stop now.

Gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, she pushed his coat off his shoulders. It hit the floor, quickly followed by his waistcoat and cravat.

"We agreed to be truthful," he said, watching her tug his shirt from his trousers. "I must tell you, I have never been so aroused."

To prove his point, he took her hand and smoothed it over the solid ridge in his trousers. It was long and thick, a veritable weapon. She should have been terrified, but knowing she affected him this deeply was more of an aphrodisiac than plum pie.

"You still owe me a forfeit," she said, loving the way he felt beneath her fingers. Touching him was addictive. "Remove all your clothes."

"I'm sure I paid that forfeit, but I'll not quibble." He dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Not when it plays to my advantage."

Eleanor stared in awe. His shoulders were broad, his chest muscular with a dusting of golden hair. His skin was smooth and stretched tight over his bulging biceps. Her heart sank as she looked upon the scar just below his shoulder, a haunting reminder of the bullet that had nearly taken his life.

"Does it still pain you?" she said, guilt tightening her throat .

"Sometimes." He unbuttoned his trousers and palmed his erection as soon as it sprang free. "Though the ache to be inside you is more than I can bear."

She gulped. Never had she been so out of her depth. And yet, the softness of his gaze put her fears to rest.

"I know what you're thinking," he teased. "You're wondering how you'll take me. Be assured, in the throes of passion we'll fit together perfectly."

"Actually, I was wondering when you might remove your shoes. Time is of the essence, and Mr Gibbs is likely to storm upstairs if he hears odd sounds."

Theo laughed. "Then I suggest you undress, too. Gibbs may fire before he asks questions." His eyes trailed a path along her curves, a hungry anticipation lurking in his gaze. "I'm panting at the prospect of seeing you naked."

Despite her shaky hands, she undid the buttons and was out of her dress before he'd finished removing his socks and shoes.

A low hum vibrated in his throat when he noticed her undergarments. "Allow me to help you." He closed the gap between them, stalking her like a panther hunting prey. He tugged the front ties on her corset, pulling her into his hard body. "Perhaps I might savour this moment and take my time."

She gripped his muscular arms to steady her balance, the feel of his bare skin beneath her fingers sending her pulse soaring. Her whole body ached for something she could not define.

His mouth was on hers, moving in slow, hypnotic strokes, kissing her the way he had at the theatre. It was beautiful and gentle, each delicate caress of their lips tugging at her heart .

He broke contact and stared into her eyes. "If we'd been alone at the theatre, this is how our kiss would have progressed."

He didn't give her time to catch her breath. His hands slid down over her buttocks while his tongue slipped into her mouth. The world around her blurred. He was everywhere. Consuming her with his touch, his taste, his smell.

Passion's glowing embers ignited into an inferno.

"Eleanor," he growled, devouring her lips once more before kissing every inch of exposed flesh. He was sucking her earlobe, kissing her neck, holding her so close the ridge of his erection pushed against her belly.

"Theo. Don't stop."

Don't ever stop loving me.

Was this how it felt to be adored?

To be treasured beyond compare?

He kissed her collarbone, kissed the swell of her breasts rising out of her corset. His fingers traced the curve of her buttocks, dipping between them to stroke the entrance of her sex.

Merciful Lord! It was too much.

"Get me out of these clothes," she demanded.

With the same urgency, he removed her corset, stopping to bury his face between her breasts, cupping them in his hands and kissing her nipples through the fine fabric.

Then he stripped her naked, his eyes burning with desire until they dipped to the bruises on her hip and thigh. "As God is my witness, no one will ever hurt you again."

She didn't want to think about the terrible things that had happened, only about this perfect moment with him. "I need you." She took his hand and smoothed it over her breast. "Make me feel like I did at Fortune's Den last night. "

His thumb grazed her nipple. "It would be my pleasure."

He was on her in a heartbeat, kissing her wildly before turning her around, his erection pressing against her buttocks.

"Everything about you is spectacular," he said against her neck as he slid his hand down between the apex of her thighs. His fingers teased her entrance before gliding over her bud. "You're so beautiful."

She almost cried.

No one had ever said such wonderful things.

No one had ever made her feel special.

But his fingers moved in enticing circles over her flesh, his other hand caressing her breast, anchoring her to him. She moaned aloud, each cry getting louder as her body shuddered and she came so hard her knees buckled.

Theo swept her up into his arms and lowered her onto the mattress. "I'm so hard, love. I'll try not to hurt you. You're certain you want to continue?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

He smiled. "You came so splendidly you've earned a confession."

"I have?"

He rose above her, his powerful arms bearing his weight, a golden lock of hair hanging over his brow. "I volunteered to escort Delphine to her modiste appointment. I didn't care to read the newspaper. I came only to watch you."

Her heart was racing. "Why?"

"Because I have always found you enchanting." He nudged her legs open with his knee and settled between them. "I've imagined this moment many times. It hurt to think that you hated me. Know I never meant to hurt you."

He kissed her again, his body pressing her into the mattress, the feel of his warm skin on hers like a dream come true.

She wrapped her legs around him as he entered her slowly, each gentle nudge tearing a gasp from her lips. She stared into his eyes, relishing the feeling of having him inside her.

"Are you ready to take all of me, Eleanor?"

She wet her lips and nodded.

He didn't thrust to the hilt straight away. He withdrew, rubbing his manhood over her slick folds until he drove her mad with need. When he entered her, she couldn't help but express her pleasure.

"Yes. Don't wait."

"Forgive me," he uttered as one sharp thrust left him buried deep inside her. "You feel so damn good. Take a minute to get used to me."

A minute?

She could stay like this for a lifetime.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think this was possible.

Then he started moving, sliding out, then sinking deep. Filling her. The rhythm was so intoxicating she was breathless with desire. They couldn't get enough of each other. The tempo changed. She begged him not to stop. He angled his hips, rubbing against her as he pumped so hard the bed creaked and took a chunk out of the plaster.

"Theo!" She came again, a wave of euphoria rippling to her toes. She gripped his tight buttocks, holding him inside her, not wanting to let go.

"Love, I'll spill inside you if I don't withdraw."

He came over her belly, a deep groan rumbling in his throat .

She watched, loving the glint of passion in his eyes, how he uttered her name when he lost control, gawping at his toned physique when he retrieved a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

He lay in bed beside her, cleaning her belly. "I've barely had time to recover, yet I need you again." He hauled her on top of him.

She rested her head on his chest, his hair tickling her face, his heartbeat thumping loudly in her ear. "Is that a good sign?"

He chuckled as he stroked her hair. "An extremely good sign. I'm yours whenever you want me. I can't get enough of you, Eleanor."

Men were fickle. That's what Lady Summers professed. One minute, a lady is his diamond of the first water; the next, she's a pebble beneath his feet.

A wise woman would guard her heart.

But Eleanor knew it was too late to save herself.

Theo had taken a piece the night he'd kissed her at the theatre. Stole another with all the thoughtful things he had done at the shop. He had claimed the rest while making love to her in bed. No matter what happened in her life, nothing would ever be this perfect.