consent?”
“Too many.” Too few, but she could never admit as much, lest she find herself on her back and increasing once more. “I already know the outcome. I prefer not to live through the shame a second time.”
He pressed his lips to a spot just below her ear. How did he know? How did he know just where to touch and drive her mad with want? “There are precautions one might take.”
“The surest is abstinence.”
He dropped that soothing hand from her back and tugged at his hair. “I would protect you.”
“Protect me?” The words stung like a slap in the face. She dropped her arms and wrapped them about her waist to ward off a sudden chill. “You wish me to become your mistress?”
“No, you misunderstand.”
“Then pray, explain it, because the only other significance I can ascribe to your words is far worse.”
He did not respond straightaway. His mouth worked, and his cheeks darkened, gray under the moonlight, but in the full sun they would be flushed a dull red. Mistress indeed, but as insulted as she was, part of her acknowledged that a role as a man’s bit of muslin was all she was fit for now. She’d managed to ruin herself and could expect no better.
But she would not expose Jack to such an arrangement. He was an innocent child, and she would ensure he remained so as long as possible. There was pain enough when one’s illusions were suddenly stripped away. She could spare her son that much.
“I meant no insult,” Upperton replied at last.
She crossed her arms. “Indeed.”
He exhaled, and she took a perverse satisfaction at his discomfiture. She’d pushed him into a corner, and she rather liked him there.
“Isabelle, you are a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Have you never considered you might improve your fortunes by taking on a protector?”
Oh, but he was beyond the pale. “My fortunes are perfectly acceptable as they are. A woman in my circumstances can hardly hope for better.”
“No?” He stepped closer, near enough that she caught a hint of his scent with every intake of breath. “And when you lie abed at night, alone, and sleep doesn’t come,and you long for another body beside you, a little warmth, a little companionship?” He tipped her chin up. “A little passion?”
She clamped her lips shut. He meant to seduce her, but she wasn’t about to yield. Not after the sort of offer he’d just made. “I manage quite nicely, thank you. Now if you’ll pardon me, the hour is late, and I need to be off home. I have responsibilities, you see, and I cannot simply wave them away or expect a servant to see to them for me.”
He dropped his hand, and she allowed herself a smile at his stiffened posture. So he’d caught her insinuation. So much the better. Useless, idle members of society. What good had any of them ever been to her? Why would she wish to consort with any of them, most especially a man who wanted nothing more than a few hours’ pleasure—his pleasure, not hers—and who would move on the moment he tired of her. She’d be fortunate not to find herself with a permanent reminder of his passage through her life.
“Good night,
my lord
.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. Squaring her shoulders, she took herself through the casement and into the gardens. Her feet crunched briskly across the graveled path. Mistress indeed! Why any woman would commit herself to such a life—paid to live at a man’s beck and call, to serve him in the most distasteful manner.
It’s the best you can do
.
She tried to push the thought aside, but it persisted. No man would look upon her as a suitable wife, and no respectable family would take her on as a governess or companion. She was fortunate to have found a comfortable dwelling. Otherwise, she would have succumbed to selling herself out of desperation long since.
She rounded the end of the house and strode down the footpath that led to the village. The moon cut frombehind a cloud to cast the world in eerie shades of
“Too many.” Too few, but she could never admit as much, lest she find herself on her back and increasing once more. “I already know the outcome. I prefer not to live through the shame a second time.”
He pressed his lips to a spot just below her ear. How did he know? How did he know just where to touch and drive her mad with want? “There are precautions one might take.”
“The surest is abstinence.”
He dropped that soothing hand from her back and tugged at his hair. “I would protect you.”
“Protect me?” The words stung like a slap in the face. She dropped her arms and wrapped them about her waist to ward off a sudden chill. “You wish me to become your mistress?”
“No, you misunderstand.”
“Then pray, explain it, because the only other significance I can ascribe to your words is far worse.”
He did not respond straightaway. His mouth worked, and his cheeks darkened, gray under the moonlight, but in the full sun they would be flushed a dull red. Mistress indeed, but as insulted as she was, part of her acknowledged that a role as a man’s bit of muslin was all she was fit for now. She’d managed to ruin herself and could expect no better.
But she would not expose Jack to such an arrangement. He was an innocent child, and she would ensure he remained so as long as possible. There was pain enough when one’s illusions were suddenly stripped away. She could spare her son that much.
“I meant no insult,” Upperton replied at last.
She crossed her arms. “Indeed.”
He exhaled, and she took a perverse satisfaction at his discomfiture. She’d pushed him into a corner, and she rather liked him there.
“Isabelle, you are a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Have you never considered you might improve your fortunes by taking on a protector?”
Oh, but he was beyond the pale. “My fortunes are perfectly acceptable as they are. A woman in my circumstances can hardly hope for better.”
“No?” He stepped closer, near enough that she caught a hint of his scent with every intake of breath. “And when you lie abed at night, alone, and sleep doesn’t come,and you long for another body beside you, a little warmth, a little companionship?” He tipped her chin up. “A little passion?”
She clamped her lips shut. He meant to seduce her, but she wasn’t about to yield. Not after the sort of offer he’d just made. “I manage quite nicely, thank you. Now if you’ll pardon me, the hour is late, and I need to be off home. I have responsibilities, you see, and I cannot simply wave them away or expect a servant to see to them for me.”
He dropped his hand, and she allowed herself a smile at his stiffened posture. So he’d caught her insinuation. So much the better. Useless, idle members of society. What good had any of them ever been to her? Why would she wish to consort with any of them, most especially a man who wanted nothing more than a few hours’ pleasure—his pleasure, not hers—and who would move on the moment he tired of her. She’d be fortunate not to find herself with a permanent reminder of his passage through her life.
“Good night,
my lord
.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. Squaring her shoulders, she took herself through the casement and into the gardens. Her feet crunched briskly across the graveled path. Mistress indeed! Why any woman would commit herself to such a life—paid to live at a man’s beck and call, to serve him in the most distasteful manner.
It’s the best you can do
.
She tried to push the thought aside, but it persisted. No man would look upon her as a suitable wife, and no respectable family would take her on as a governess or companion. She was fortunate to have found a comfortable dwelling. Otherwise, she would have succumbed to selling herself out of desperation long since.
She rounded the end of the house and strode down the footpath that led to the village. The moon cut frombehind a cloud to cast the world in eerie shades of
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