A Wedding In Springtime(88)

She let him lead her up two flights of stairs, hoping he knew where he was going and would not take her to the housekeeper’s room instead. He led her through a tall door to a tastefully appointed bedroom. He set the lantern down and offered to take her coat. She shrugged it off before thinking better of it. Drunk or not, Grant’s eyes roamed over her person. A wicked smile indicated he was pleased with what he saw.

She should go. She should… he stepped closer and her mind went blank. He may be vilely drunk, but he was still just as handsome, and she would wager any woman would pause if Grant looked at her in quite the same manner. There was a glint in his eye, an odd mixture of wickedness and true warmth.

“You are beautiful.” It was not the words he spoke, but the way he spoke them that made her catch her breath. The words were whispered reverently, with eyes closed.

“You are not even looking at me.”

“Don’t need to see you to know you’re beautiful.”

All her life Genie had been told she was beautiful, so much so that she had taken this as a plain fact. Beautiful. This moment was the first time she ever truly felt it.

“Mr. Grant, is your, err… offer still available?”

Grant cocked his head to one side, clearly not understanding the question.

“I mean do you still want me to…” Genie stumbled over the words. She could not say the word mistress could she? “You spoke of spoiling me, of caring for me, if I would run away with you. Is that offer still something you wish?”

“My only wish is to be with you.” Suddenly Grant did not look drunk any more. He stopped swaying and looked her directly in the eye as sober as a banker.

“Mr. Grant, I know it is highly improper to be here.”

Grant shook his head. “Very proper. Good of you.”

She ignored this. “I need you to understand that my brother has unfortunately been led astray and has accrued gambling debts that are extreme.”

Grant shrugged and stumbled backward, landing heavily on the richly appointed bed. Genie swallowed hard on a dry throat. He was sitting on the bed. The bed!

“As—as I said. My brother’s gambling debts. He ran away from school when they had a break and came to London for the first time. He pretended to be a Mr. Smythe and has been terribly taken advantage of. I fear he might do something rash if I don’t find a way to raise the money.”

Grant waved a hand. “All boys gamble, get in debt. Get out of it too. Don’t worry yourself.”

“He owes twelve thousand pounds.”

Grant squinted at her as if trying to make her come into focus. “What’s that now? Lot of blunt t’be sure.”

“I know. I know it is. I don’t know what else to do. You were the only one I could think of who may be able to help.”

Genie hoped this statement would encourage Grant to do something gallant, but the blank look on Grant’s face told her she was going to need to make it clear what she was asking.

“Will you help us, Mr. Grant? Will you pay his debts?” Genie boldly stepped forward until she was directly in front of him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I would be most grateful.”

His mouth opened slightly, his eyes wide. “Do whatever you want. ’Course I will.”

“Will you?”

“Give you anything.” Grant gently took her hand in his and studied it like a fragile object.

A flood of relief rushed through Genie. She had done it. Her brother was safe. Grant pressed her hand to his lips and another rush of something hot and powerful coursed through her. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer until she was standing between his knees. Her heart pounded in her chest as he wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on her chest. Her knees went weak, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to keep from sliding to the floor. Gone were any thoughts of tomorrow; gone were any thoughts at all.

“Will you leave me now?” he mumbled into her bosom.

“No,” she whispered. She might never walk again, considering her bones were now the consistency of apple jelly.

“You are madness. Rum touch madness.” He grazed his lips across her exposed flesh above the top of her night rail, leaving a searing trail of heat in his wake. With a soft finger, he traced the line where his mouth had been and then slowly explored under the gown. She caught her breath when his fingers brushed over her peaking interest. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into him.