Page 61 of Sinfully Wed
“Unfortunately, I didn’t know it when it was a child, or I would have. I settled on the hanging of several pirates. I was always treated as some exotic unwelcome animal come to burrow among them.” She set down her spoon and looked up at him. “So you see why I have been averse to the courtship of a titled gentleman.”
“I do. I’ve no great love for society given my own origins. I often wonder what I’m doing being an earl when I would be far happier in the country with my pigs. Less impoverished, of course, than I’ve been in recent years.”
Odessa had the strangest urge to pull Jordan into her arms and press a kiss to his cheek. He’d been incredibly gentle in taking her virtue. Careful in a way she hadn’t expected. “Thank you.”
“I’ve no desire to curry the favor of those that find me less, nor should you,” Jordan’s hand, with those marvelous, powerful fingers, tugged gently on her skirts. “We have reached an understanding, Odessa. And our general dislike of ourbetters,” there was a sarcastic edge to the word, “is part of it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jordan looked downat the woman beside him, admiring the graceful curve of Odessa’s neck and the gentle rise of her small, perfect bosom. His desire for her had become near constant since that memorable ride in the carriage several weeks ago. Passion often proved fleeting between new lovers once the worst of their lust had been satisfied, but Jordan’s want of Odessa had only increased. The longing for her had sunk deep in his bones and he doubted anything would dislodge it.
“She made death masks of those executed mere moments after the guillotine came down,” Odessa whispered. “Blood still dripping from the cut.” She drew her fingers along the line of her neck, the slate blue of her eyes filling with fascination. “Brave of Madame Tussaud, don’t you think? Did you know she was imprisoned herself?”
Strange, unusual creature. Jordan had arisen this morning wishing Odessa was beside him, possibly recounting a ghost story to him before breakfast.
“You may have mentioned the fact to me,” he replied. Odessa was enamored of Madame Tussaud. He’d heard the wax sculptor’s history multiple times. “Her chosen occupation was not without risk.”
He looked around at the vast collection of blood-soaked wax. The artistrywasspectacular. Incredibly lifelike. None of it was real, of course. But still, incredibly gruesome. The Duke of Ware had his moths. Tamsin, her breeches and a wicked right hook. Jordan was afraid of spiders and liked to brawl. Odessa had…her morbid curiosity about the world.
He tried to picture Odessa as a child, with the enormous form of Ware next to her, deliberately tossing out grisly tidbits when her mother’s family visited.
“Look. Robespierre.”
Today’s adventure was mild in comparison to some of Odessa’s favorite spots in London. Tyburn and Newgate. The tombs beneath London Bridge. Highgate Cemetery where she pointed out gravestones of unfortunate souls. Odessa had stacks of penny broadsides hidden in the drawing room at her home, all published in Seven Dials.
Jordan knew because he’d tupped Odessa on top of the pamphlets while Miss Maplehurst pretended to see to preparations for dinner.
Whitehallstillrankled. The sharp bitter loathing for Bentley continued to prick at his skin. The resentment would boil over and he then he would catch the scent of lavender on Odessa’s warm skin. Or she would smile and trail her fingers along his arm. Angus Whitehall’s unappealing daughter, the woman he’d been blackmailed to wed, was now the very thing that made Jordan happy.
“I wish I possessed an ounce of Madame Tussauds’ talent.” She held up two fingers pinched together. “A small amount. I would open my own exhibit, but focus more exclusively on murderous events.” Her gaze flicked to him. “Like the scenes in a play.”
Mother would have liked Odessa.
“You’ve many talents, Odessa.” Jordan’s lips dipped to the curve of her ear. “Though I am too much of a gentleman to say so in a public setting.”
All true. Odessa had absolutely no reticence about anything of a sexual nature. He’d nearly fainted when she got down on her knees in the carriage and asked innocently if she could put her mouth on him.
A twist of arousal rushed down between his legs at the memory.
“Mmm.” A slender hand trailed down the length of Jordan’s coat, discreetly, as at least a dozen other patrons surrounded them. Her fingers wormed their way under his coat, tracing the outline of his cock.
Jordan’s breath hitched, cock twitching and hardening at her touch. Odessa resembled a prim little flower but possessed a great deal of boldness. Vastly arousing.
“Naughty, Miss Whitehall.” Madame Tussauds wasn’t well-lit, but even so, her brazen behavior would be noticed if it continued. Especially if he threw caution to the wind and pulled her into a dark corner. “We should return.”
“So soon?” She blinked up at him. “But we haven’t seen—”
“You should have thought of that a moment ago, Odessa. I’ve little interest now in wax nor anything other than what lies under your skirts.”
Jordan turned her abruptly and led her outside into the rapidly fading light, wondering if there was enough time to take her on the carriage seat before arriving at her home.
“Of course, my lord.” Her fingers plucked at the edges of his coat but didn’t attempt to touch him again. Just as well. The raging length of his cock already threatened to burst from his trousers.
“My aunt is out this afternoon,” she breathed against his cheek before Jordan settled across from her in the carriage. “I think she is having tea with your sisters and gone for some time.”
Miss Maplehurst was indeed at Emerson House, supposedly practicing decorum with Aurora and Tamsin, but according to Holly, all the three did was drink tea and gossip.
“Papa is in Manchester, once more. Burns is afraid of you.”
