The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(75)

After enjoying his attentions for a few more minutes, Maggie sucked in a deep breath and pulled away. Simon’s bright blue eyes had gone sleepy and dark, her very favorite. She bit her lip and tried to ignore how much she wanted him to ravish her. Soon, she promised herself. There was one issue to address first. “Simon, tell me. I know you are distracting me in order to avoid answering.”

“Markham will not be voting for my proposal. I was unable to convince him.” He angled his head to resume his ministrations to her breasts, but she tightened her grip to stop him.

“Why do I sense there is more?”

“May we discuss this later?” He rolled his hips, the hard length of his shaft urgently pressing into her thigh. “I want you, Mags.”

“Simon,” she admonished.

“Fine.” He flopped back and folded his arms behind his head, displaying the lines of his upper arms nicely. “Markham carried a tendre for you, madam, and seemed to resent that your affections were engaged elsewhere.”

“Meaning with you.”

A brief nod. “With me.”

She thought about that. Markham, a tendre? They had not spent much time together, but she had encouraged him at Julia’s dinner party to irritate Simon. And then there was the meeting to discuss Simon’s proposal. A pang of guilt slid through her belly. Many women flirted and pretended interest to get what they wanted; she’d seen it time and time again over the years. But she hadn’t ever done it, not before Markham, and the results did not sit well with her.

More to the point, how had Markham learned of her and Simon? This . . . connection between them began only recently. Who else knew?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“How did Markham know about us?”

“Apparently half of Paris wagered on it.”

Maggie gaped. “You jest.”

“Hardly surprising. You are one of Society’s favorite topics to speculate on, after all. Even still, half of Paris might be an exaggeration. I’d say more like a third.”

She pushed his chest. “Be serious.”

“Darling.” He reached out to cup her jaw, and the strength and comfort in that simple gesture warmed her down to her toes. “Who cares what anyone thinks? You’ve certainly not worried before, so do not let us start now. Everyone was bound to find out eventually, and I, for one, do not give a damn about the gossip.”

His sincerity calmed her somewhat, but did he not see? Markham refused to support Simon because of her. How many others would there be? How many of Simon’s causes would be thwarted because of their association? His political influence would wither as long as the two of them were linked. A mistress would be acceptable, but a lady tainted by scandal and impropriety was another. Quite irresponsible on both their parts to think this liaison would not cost him.

At some point, if they continued, he would come to resent her. She was certain of it. He’d look back at all he might have accomplished if not for her—and that would kill her. For him to regret the time they spent together, to wish she were someone other than herself, would crush the part of her soul that had yearned for him all these years.

He wrapped her hair around his hand and gently tugged her down, drawing her away from those morose thoughts. His other hand steadied her above him. “Do not fret over Markham, Maggie. There are plenty of other ways to get what I want.” He shifted her on top of him, the hard planes of his body melding against her softness in all the best places. “And right now, what I want is you.”

She studied his face, saw the raw honesty and desire there, and her heart turned over. Emotion swelled inside her, an emotion she’d never expected to feel, and she quickly kissed him so he would not see it. He growled and settled her legs astride his hips, and she rocked over the heavy, hard length of his erection. They both shuddered.

“Besides,” he said against her mouth, “you hated my proposal. I should think you’d be glad to see it fail.”

No denying she did not agree with his idea. But she did not want to see him fail, not because of her. “I know you think your proposal shall protect ruined women who might otherwise be cast aside, forced to earn their livings by less than desirable means. But think about what you are telling her to endure: a tie to the very man who abused her. For the rest of her life, a reminder every year of what she suffered. Think of me. If Cranford had followed through on what he intended—” She paused as Simon’s face darkened. “Wait, let me finish. If Cranford had taken me against my will, I might be forced to accept his money. Even such an insubstantial thread would be untenable. No woman would want any tie to the man who’d hurt her in that manner, not even for money.”

His mouth settled in an unhappy line. He stared at her, and she could see his brain arguing the emotion against the logic. He’d been so sure of his position, but hopefully she could make him understand the other side.

“I could kill Cranford for hurting you.”

She traced the slight dent at the end of his chin with her fingertip. “As could I. And I’d rather starve than accept one farthing from him.”

He stroked the small of her back and ran his hand down over her buttock. “Starve?”

“That is how strongly I feel, Simon. Do not pursue this piece of legislation. There are other ways, better ways, to offer assistance to women in need.”