Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(33)

Was it only the previous evening?

It seemed like it had been a year and a day ago.

She was a different woman than she had been those few hours past.



Swanston awoke with a groan as bright sunlight filled the chamber and the smell of strong coffee filled his nostrils.

“Damnation, Peters. Cannot a man sleep in his own bed?” he hissed at his valet.

A low feminine chuckle was the reply. “Not when he is not in his own bed.”

He bolted up, his eyes flashing open. “What the …”

Ruby stood beside the bed, a great mug of coffee in her hands, a slow easy smile upon her face. “It is going on one and I didn’t know how long you wished to linger.” Her eyes swept down to his lap, to his standing cock.

“Bloody hell.” He grabbed a sheet and pulled it over his nakedness. His eyes darted about the room. “Where is she? Where is Grace?”

“Grace? Aah, Grace. She’s been gone these many hours—left at first light. And she was bloody glowing. I see I chose quite well. She said the task had been accomplished to her satisfaction.”

“Satisfaction. You better believe she was satisfied—many times.” He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so angry, why he was acting the cad.

Ruby shook her head. “Now, do you want your coffee or not? I’ve better things to do than listen to a braggart in the morning.”

He had a dozen replies to that, but he held them back. Why had she left? Why had Grace fled before they had a chance to talk, to make further arrangements? Didn’t she realize that there was something between them, something that had to be explored? “Tell me how to find her.”

Ruby shook her head, the sunlight glinting off her cherry-colored curls. “I cannot do that. No more than I could tell her who you are. Would you want me to do that? To give her your name?”

He considered it. He actually considered it. Why not? What did he have to lose?

But who was she? What if she talked? What if she shared his secrets with others?

Could he risk it?

Grace would never do that. Only what did he actually know of her?

Nothing beyond the shape of her breasts, of her ass. Nothing beyond the new skills of her mouth.

“No, I would not want you to tell her,” he said.

Still, there had to be other alternatives.



With some trepidation, Louisa approached the door to the Madame’s house one more time. She had not meant to come, but when her footman had brought the note this morning, she’d found herself unable to resist.

What could Madame want? Did he want to see her again? Did Charles miss her, long for her in the dark hours of the night?

And what if he did?

What if he wanted her again? She could hear his command, his desire. Her heart thrilled at the thought.

She knocked hurriedly upon the door, puffing a breath of air against her heavy veils. Her body sang with the anticipation of seeing him again—of feeling him again.

The footman, liveried in crimson velvet, opened the heavy door and escorted her down the hall to the same elegant parlor where she had first met Madame. Her toes almost skipped along. Would he be there?

He was not. Madame sat alone, the tea tray before her, the elegant platter of pastries to her side. “Come sit,” she said, gesturing to a chaise longue.

Looking about the chamber, wondering if Charles would suddenly appear from behind a curtain, Louisa sat.

“You must be wondering why I requested that you visit,” Madame asked as she poured a cup of tea without spilling a drop. Many a society matron would have wished for her elegance.

Louisa accepted the proffered tea and took a single sip. She glanced up at Madame over the rim of the cup. “I had wondered.”

“First, I simply wished to be sure that all went to your satisfaction.”

Heat rising in her cheeks, Louisa focused on the tea in her cup. “Yes. Everything was satisfactory.”

“You were satisfied?”

A day ago she would not have understood the meaning of the question, but now … “Yes. Quite satisfied.”

Madame took a sip of her tea. “And do you have any questions? About the events of the evening?”

So many. But none that she would ever ask. “No. I do believe I understood all.”

Madame placed her cup back on its saucer, her eyes glancing to the pocket doors that separated this room from the next.

And with no more than that, Louisa understood. He was there. Charles was in the next room, waiting. She squeezed her thighs tight as the now familiar ache began deep in her belly. He was there. She could feel him, sense him. If she stood and opened the door she would see him, know him.

Madame caught her glance and nodded. “He wishes to see you again, to continue your relationship.”

“But how? I mean … it was one night—how would we even …?” Louisa’s mind spun with ideas.

“I do not know, but he—Charles believes that all things are negotiable. If you wish to continue, then the two of you will find a way, either here or somewhere else. He has offered to take a house for you to meet.”

And with those few words, reality returned.

Charles was not talking about a life together. He was talking of a few hurried meetings, something illicit and dark, something hidden from the world.

She had done what she did for a reason. She had not done it for herself, but for John.