Page 22 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

W ell,” Drusilla said at last, straightening the papers in her lap, “I believe we have a good beginning. Now we just have to execute.”

It was easiest, she mused, to forestall any emotional entanglements by maintaining a distance between what happened in private and what was in plain sight.

But his living in her house complicated matters; on one hand, it would be far more convenient to arrange any possible trysts with him right down the hall.

But on the other, it was liable to get awkward, especially if he exhibited any...fondness for her outside of their times in private.

That was why she was so steadfastly polite and nonchalant.

But she hadn’t been able to resist the idea of presenting a tableau with him—that was a risky dare that made her heart race.

The possibility of discovery was always there, since her behavior would not be tolerated if certain members of Society knew about their romantic entanglement.

Many of them suspected she took lovers, but she was still tolerated, if only because when she entertained, she entertained lavishly.

And because everyone seemed to enjoy a good bit of gossip, which she usually supplied.

That was why she was so confident that Miss Emily’s launch would be a success.

“Did we decide a date?” Miss Emily said excitedly.

“A date! Of course,” Drusilla replied, shaking her head. “That is obviously the most important part. Let’s see—can we make it happen in two weeks?” She looked at Joey, who was already nodding. “Two weeks, then, since my right-hand person says it is possible.”

“Two weeks!” Emily breathed.

“Two weeks,” the earl said, in a much more subdued tone of voice.

“And in that two weeks we’ll have to decide on your gown, Miss Emily, and make certain you are well-versed in all manner of polite things. From what I’ve seen, you should be fine,” she added, with a warm smile toward the girl.

“I’m already so nervous,” Miss Emily said. “What if nobody likes me? What if I fall on my face while dancing? What if”—and her voice rose in horror—“I wake up that morning with a blemish?”

Drusilla bit her lip to keep from laughing, but she couldn’t resist stealing a look at Joey, who was also doing her best not to laugh.

“You will be fine,” the earl said, stretching his hand out to his niece.

“You are well-mannered, and lovely, and Lady Drusilla is going to make certain everything goes well.” His voice was low and soothing.

She hadn’t expected him to be so reassuring toward his niece, but she supposed it did make sense—he clearly cared about Miss Emily.

He just wasn’t confident about how to show it.

It made her feel surprisingly gooey inside, to see his obvious warmth toward his niece. His family.

“Now that that is all decided, Miss Emily, let’s head to the kitchens and see if Cook has any more of those scones,” Joey said, rising and nodding toward the girl.

Miss Emily rose, and the two left, Joey shooting a last meaningful glance toward Drusilla.

“Thank you for all of this,” the earl said. He was back to looking uncomfortable after his moment of comfort.

“You’ve promised me something in return, remember?” she replied.

“Right. A building. I presume you’ll want to review the buildings on offer and select the best one?”

“You would be willing to do that? That is beyond what we initially agreed to.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice lowering to a gruff burr, which she now recognized as his embarrassed tone. “It won’t be a reasonable bargain if what I give you isn’t what you want.”

She gave him a knowing look, and she saw a blush creep over his cheeks.

“Now all that nonsense is gone, I can see when you’re blushing,” she said, laughing.

He blushed harder, which made her laugh even more.

“You are full of surprises, Scottish ram. Who knew you would be so modest, given how you talked to me last night?” She edged closer to him. He didn’t move away. “‘I’ll fuck you when I want to,’” she said, her voice a husky whisper.

What was it about him that made her so...feral? She’d never been this wound up by a man before, even at the peak of the affair.

But the combination of his shy awkwardness, his size and appearance, and his dominating behavior during intimacy was something she could not resist.

“I believe I said, ‘I’ll fuck you when that is all that is left to do.’” Now his voice held the note of autocratic command she craved.

“Ah, you’re right. You did say that.” She placed her hand on his thigh, feeling the length of hard muscle underneath.

He gave her a pointed look, then picked her hand up and returned it to her lap. “Not now, my lady.” His voice was a low rumble. “You need to wait for your pleasure. And if you decide to take care of it yourself, you’ll need to tell me what you did.”

His words sent shivers through her, and she bit her lip to keep from begging him to take her now.

He’d already said no; she wouldn’t press him.

But, oh, so many parts of her wanted his touch, and she nearly went ahead and touched herself there, in front of him, to lessen some of her discomfort.

Though that wouldn’t be right either. He’d said no. She wouldn’t disobey him.

“I can see you’re in some distress, my lady,” he said, his voice low and assured.

Very different from his conversational tone.

He picked up her hand, the one he’d returned to her, and brought it slowly toward his face.

Then he lowered his mouth to kiss the back of it.

But he didn’t stop there; he turned it over so her palm was facing up, and then he kissed her there, and then wrapped his lips around her index finger, drawing it in with a forceful suck.

“Oh,” she gasped, and she started to move, but his other arm shot out and kept her still.

“Just this,” he said, dragging his tongue around her finger. “This will have to be enough for now.”

Her nipples were taut peaks, and her quim ached. Oh, but she liked him so much when he was guiding their interactions.

He met her gaze, delivering one last lick to her finger before returning it again. His dark eyes were ablaze with desire. He wanted all of this as much as she did. But he was in control—and controlling her—and that made everything that much more delicious.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said in a shaky voice. “That will have to do for now.”

“I’ll let you know when we can continue,” he said as he rose, and she nearly swooned at his autocratic tone. He held his hand out to her, and she took it, then stood up herself.

“You will. But don’t make me wait too long,” she couldn’t help but add.

M urdoch chuckled softly as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom. She was in sensual agony, and it pleased him he had found something that he doubted anyone else had given to her—or not given to her, in this particular situation.

He was in some agony himself, but he could take care of that.

Though first, he recalled with a groan, he had some correspondence to review, including the purchase of a large flock from one of his neighbors, a gentleman who’d recently inherited a title and a house in Edinburgh and was planning on settling there.

“My lord,” he heard a voice say, and then Miss Joey strode out of the shadows holding a bottle and two glasses.

“Are you just lurking about to waylay me into drinking with you?” he asked, then realized he’d spoken to her as he would a friend.

Though perhaps she was at that.

“Naturally,” she said, not looking at all embarrassed to be caught out.

“Come in, then,” he said, opening the door to his room. He took the chair he’d had before, while she resumed the same seat as well. She poured out a good measure of the brown liquid, handing it to him before pouring her own.

“You can’t let her trample over you,” she said before taking a sip. “She’ll do that—she’ll just make up her mind and everyone else has to follow. If you have another opinion about Miss Emily’s party, or whatever bargain you two made, you need to tell her. And be firm about it.”

“I am,” Murdoch replied, smothering a secret smile at just how firm he was being. “I promise you, Miss Joey, that I am more than enough for Lady Drusilla.”

Miss Joey gave him an assessing stare. “I believe you are, which is rare, I have to tell you. Most of her—that is, it’s difficult for anyone to tell her no.”

Most of her—Miss Joey had been about to say lovers or gentlemen , hadn’t she?

He knew Drusilla was experienced, obviously. And he also knew he didn’t care about any of that, not the way some men would react to knowing a lady was not an innocent. It didn’t matter to him; in fact, he was glad she was not, since it meant she’d know more about the business of pleasure.

“I’ve talked about Dru, and how we met, and I haven’t heard anything about you.

Except that you’re rumored to be a ‘Scottish oaf,’ and I can see for myself that isn’t true.

The oaf part, that is; I know you’re Scottish, what with the way you talk and such,” she said, adopting a comically broad Scots accent for the second part of her sentence.

“Indeed I am. As my father was before me.” Murdoch found, to his surprise, that he was actually relaxed with this odd woman, sitting in his bedroom drinking whisky.

“And do you have anyone special back in Scotland?”

He nodded gravely. “Indeed I do. Several someones, in fact.” Her eyes went wide. “I’ve got Clover, and Fluffy, and Shadow.”

She rolled her eyes before taking another sip. “Stop having me on. Those are what, sheep?”

“Got it in one,” he replied, drinking more of the whisky.

“And that’s what you do up there? Tend to your sheep and such?”

“I’m not a shepherd myself, mind you,” Murdoch clarified.

“I don’t know what you southerners think about us up there, but I am a respectable earl who does what most lords do, I presume.

I see to my holdings, manage my crops, take care of my tenants, and occasionally voice a political opinion, if the idiots in charge get it very wrong. ”

“I bet you’re a rarer type of lord than you might think,” Miss Joey said. “I can’t imagine some of the gentlemen Miss Emily might meet doing actual work, not when they could palm it off on someone.”

“That’s why I’m hoping she waits a bit,” Murdoch said in a grim tone. “Emily’s got a fair fortune, and I don’t want some ne’er-do-well marrying her just to get his hands on it.”

“Whoever marries her will get his hands on it, though. That’s the whole point of putting men in charge.” Her lips peeled back in a semblance of a smile, though there was no amusement on her face.

“I see you believe that women should have control over their own lives?” Murdoch said in a mild tone.

“You’d best believe I do,” Miss Joey said sharply.

“Can you imagine any man marrying Dru and telling her what to do just because that is what the law says? There’s a reason she’s unmarried.

Not that she hasn’t had her chances, but she hasn’t wanted to risk it, not since—” And then she clamped her mouth shut, leaving Murdoch in a whirl of curiosity.

“What do you believe about women’s lives, my lord?” she asked. Her face was set in an expression of pugnacity. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I believe as you do, Miss Joey. I’ve met my fellow men, and some of them are absolute ruffians. I wouldn’t trust them to have ownership of a dog, much less a woman.”

“And that is what it is,” she replied in a triumphant tone, “ownership! It’s why Dru has to take in so many women and families, because their men treat them terribly or spend all the money on drink and gambling or just leave entirely.”

“It’s disgraceful,” he agreed. He’d never really thought it all through before; yes, he knew there were louts out there, as he’d said, but he hadn’t thought of what might happen to the people under those men’s control.

What if some of his tenants were like that?

Would he notice? Or had he not noticed, and terrible things were happening on his land?

He nearly had an urge to pack up that evening and head home, but of course that was just the impulse of someone who was determined to do the right thing all the time, regardless of the consequences.

He couldn’t return home just yet, not with Emily’s party happening so soon—but he could pen correspondence to his estate steward and ask him to keep an eye out for potential issues.

Douglas was a distant cousin, and he’d had served Murdoch well the entire time he’d had the earldom.

Douglas was one of the reasons Murdoch hadn’t been too concerned about leaving the estate for so long.

“Dru keeps trying to get some of those English louts to enact laws that will help women and families in such situations, but so far they haven’t wanted to do anything they see as radical. As though having autonomy over one’s life is radical.”

“It is, not only according to those louts, but certain religions and governments,” he said, giving her a nod.

“Look at you being an out-and-out radical!” she exclaimed in an admiring tone. “We’ll have you taking to the streets with the Langham Place ladies.”

He looked puzzled.

“They’re doing what Dru does here, but on a much larger scale—they train women in mathematics to work as bookkeepers, and they also try to get laws passed to make things more fair. Dru and I go there from time to time to swap information on resources.”

Was that why she wanted a building? To set up her own Langham Place?

“I’d like to visit this Langham Place sometime,” he said, but stopped speaking when he saw Miss Joey’s expression. “I...gather that men are not allowed?”

“Not hardly. You’re the enemy, remember?

” she said in a cheeky tone. “You might accidentally gain control over all the women there and force them to do things like embroidery and knitting, when they actually would like to be sewing actual work clothing, not some folderol to put on a sofa.” Her tone was scornful.

“I have no intention of forcing anyone to do embroidery,” he said with a shudder. “Those little scenes always look faintly unsettling, since a thread is almost always amiss, and suddenly some little farm animal looks like it’s got a terrible disease.”

“Ha!” Miss Joey exclaimed. “You’re right, they do. We don’t have any of that here. Dru just has her collection.”

“Her collection of...?” Murdoch asked.

Miss Joey’s face got mysterious. “I’ll let her show you herself. It will have much more of an impact.” It had to be something related to her taxidermied animals, since Emily had mentioned they were posed. He tried asking Miss Joey more questions, but she wouldn’t say anything else.

Instead, they discussed some highly publicized boxing matches—Miss Joey was a big fan of boxing, because she liked seeing certain men getting punched—and drank more whisky.

Murdoch felt so comfortable, it felt as though he was back on his estate in Scotland.

Perhaps London wasn’t so bad after all.