She pressed a palm against his chest, whether to push him away or pull him closer she wasn’t certain. But at the first touch she felt his heart beat against the linen and the hardness of his chest, and she froze. She kneaded the hard flesh, reveling in the power she felt in his muscles. It was weakness, for certain, but she wanted to lean against his strength, to feel more of him. What would it be like to have such a masculine man?
He groaned, pulled her flush against him, and deepened the kiss. The touch of her sensitive corseted breasts against his chest was shocking. She came to her senses. This wasn’t a harmless lover’s tryst. His kisses were dangerous and could easily lure a lady—inexperienced or not—to her ruin.
He kissed a path across her cheek, then flicked his tongue against the sensitive shell of her ear. The sensations were purely erotic. Oh my.
Her mind struggled to hold on to her train of thought. She mustn’t allow him these kisses. Mustn’t allow him to think of her as anything other than a lady. He may be hurting from his brother’s death, but that didn’t give him a right to use her in such a fashion. If she let him have the upper hand so easily, they would never be on even ground, and her task would fail before it ever began. He would never be ready for Lady Crowley’s ball. He could easily rescind their agreement and demand her father pay the six thousand pounds, or worse, demand that she share his bed in exchange for all or part of the debt.
Where would she be then? How could she provide for her young brother? She pushed against Ian’s chest. “Ian, stop.”
He tightened his arms to keep her near, his head lowering to capture her lips once again.
She turned her head to the side and shoved more forcefully. “Ian, stop!”
He took a step back. “What is it?”
Her heart was racing, and she struggled to keep her features controlled. “This is wrong.”
“It didn’t feel wrong to me,” he said.
Her brows drew downward. “If this is how you’re going to behave, then I cannot see how we can work together.”
That got his attention. A familiar mask of coldness that she’d seen at his gambling club descended upon his features. “Pardon my behavior. I had thought you had enjoyed it as much as I had.”
She had enjoyed it. She hadn’t experienced anything like his kiss. Not even the quick kiss she’d experienced during a garden stroll at a ball. But she must never admit it to him.
“I don’t see how I can tutor you if you kiss me.” She reached for her cloak with trembling hands.
“You’re leaving?”
Was that surprise in his voice? “Yes.”
“Will you return tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know.”
Dark eyes narrowed. “We had an agreement.”
Her hand hesitated on the door handle. “I remember.”
“You needn’t worry. I shall restrain myself. It won’t happen again.”
Dare she trust his word? Could she afford not to?
“All right,” she said.
“I shall escort you home.”
“No,” she said, a note of desperation in her voice. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him in a carriage. She frowned, realizing she sounded anxious. “I will be perfectly fine on my own.”
His dark, brooding expression returned. “As you wish.”
She tried not to run as she threw open the library door and rushed down the stairs.
…
Ian parted the curtains of the library window and watched as his coach drove off. Damn. What had possessed him to kiss her? He crushed the silk fabric in a fist.
If their arrangement was going to succeed, he had to keep his distance from her.
He hadn’t intended to kiss her. But she’d brought up his brother’s death and he wanted the topic to cease, and there was one sure way to stop a woman from talking.
The problem was he hadn’t anticipated his response to the kiss. He’d experience a jolt of raw lust. Possessive. The last thing he wanted was for Grace to cease his lessons before they ever fully began. What would that gain him?
His mother was right about one thing: he owed Matthew. Even though their circumstances had been different from birth—Matthew had been the firstborn son and heir, and Ian had been the spare—they’d shared a bond. Their father’s dislike of Ian had not severed their friendship, and Ian grieved over the loss of his brother.
Matthew was gone, but he still had his sisters. Olivia and Ellie’s happiness and social success were his goals. Nothing else. He would go through this ridiculous charade for his siblings.
As for Grace, he needed her tutoring as much as she needed to pay off her father’s debts. Lady Crowley’s ball hung over his head like an axe.
He’d have to restrain himself where Grace was concerned. She was to train him, as she would say, into becoming an acceptable gentleman. She was a means to an end, nothing more.
Chapter Six
“Are you daydreaming again?”
Grace looked up to see her friend, Lady Prudence Wetherby, watching her curiously.
Grace blinked. “Pardon?”
They were in Prudence’s parlor for their monthly meeting for the benefit of the Orphaned Children’s Relief Society. A half-dozen other ladies were present. A servant had wheeled in a tea tray, and the women were nibbling on scones.
“Exactly what I thought,” Prudence whispered. She set her teacup and saucer on a dainty end table and turned on the cushioned sofa to look at Grace. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything that’s been said this afternoon.”
“That’s not true, Prudence.”
Prudence made a face that suggested she didn’t believe a word Grace said. Prudence was right, of course. Their mothers had been good acquaintances, and Grace and Prudence had been friends since they were eight years old. Prudence loved to gossip, and Grace recognized the gleam in her friend’s eyes.
Prudence lowered her voice further and leaned close. “Are you thinking about a man?”
That got Grace’s attention. She sat up straight. “Why would you think that?”
A mischievous gleam lit Prudence’s gaze. “A lady has a faraway look in her eyes when she is thinking of a gentleman. Are you thinking of your dance with the fair-haired gentleman at Lady Parson’s ball last month?”
No. Grace dropped her scone on her plate. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry; she reached for her tea and gulped. Her thoughts weren’t consumed with her brief ballroom dance or orphans, but of a tall, dark gambling club owner who had immersed himself in sin for ten years.
Quite a different picture.
Prudence raised the teapot. “Perhaps another cup of tea will help to stop your daydreaming and sharpen your senses?”
She didn’t need to sharpen her senses. They were very attuned to the unexpected kiss of a disreputable rogue. The trouble was she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Goodness, did that make her a wanton?
What had started out as a harsh kiss had unexpectedly turned tender and tantalizing—a kiss to make her insides quiver. Grace swallowed as she raised her teacup for Prudence to pour. She needed more tea to soothe her throat and calm her pounding heart.
Grace felt a nagging guilt for not being entirely truthful to Prudence. Her friend knew about Grace’s work with the milliner’s ledgers and her gift with numbers, yet Grace had kept her arrangement with Ian Swift secret. Prudence knew the baron gambled and that Grace had devised a way to help with the household, but Grace had never confessed the true extent of her family’s financial troubles or that her dowry was dwindling. Plus, there was Prudence’s propensity for gossip. She would never intentionally seek to harm Grace, but nevertheless, there was the risk.