Page 38 of The Counterfeit Scoundrel
“No, I’m not.” She was in the arms of a scoundrel in a once-upon-a-time brothel.
Then his mouth was back on hers, his enthusiasm somehow not diminished in the least, as though he would never have enough of her. As though it would be impossible to ever be sated.
Bishop had known it—she—would be like this. Feverish, demanding, all-consuming. It was one of the reasons he’d resisted the allure of her until now. Because he’d understood once wouldn’t be enough. That he would become drunk on the taste of her, more flavorful than the finest wine. Her heat seeped through his clothing to warm his skin. He might forever feel her presence there, within his pores, coursing through his blood. He was so incredibly hard. For her.
He fought to ignore the bed with its thick blue duvet beckoning only a few feet away. After lifting her into his arms, he could reach it in half a dozen long steps, lay her down upon it, and stretch out alongside her.He imagined the joy to be found in loosening buttons, lacings, and ribbons. Of slowly revealing every inch of her flesh.
Her low moans echoed around him while her hands traveled over him, mapping out the contours of his shoulders and back before delving into his hair and tugging on the strands, not in a manner that signaled she wished to push him away, but in a fashion that communicated her need to have him nearer.
As lust ratcheted painfully through him, he couldn’t seem to escape the reality of what she was—a woman who’d come to him under false pretenses. Nor was he completely innocent. Putting on a performance each time she opened the door to his bedchamber.
But the desire was not pretend. It was true and real. Yet if he gave in to it and took full possession of her, he didn’t know what he would discover on the other side of it. Would he, a man who never lost at anything, lose a part of himself? Was it worth sacrificing a pawn to take the queen?
The pleasure swirling through Daisy was both frightening and exhilarating. If he wasn’t what she’d thought, then what sort of man was he? How much of him was merely facade? Was she a fool to relish the way his mouth moved over hers, to enjoy his hands pressing her flush against him?
The loud rapping on the door had her leaping out of his arms and flattening her back against the wall, because without him, she needed some support or she would indeed crumple. Her breaths came in mad gasps. As though unaffected by what had just transpired, casually he reached down and grabbed thestethoscope from the floor where it had landed earlier. Once he straightened, he barked, “Come.”
It was the only indication she had that he wasn’t at all pleased by the intrusion. But then, if she’d learned anything at all this evening, it was that he was very skilled at not revealing much about himself, his thoughts, or his feelings. Within his bedchamber, he’d fooled her completely. Perhaps he’d been doing the same with the kiss. Duping her into believing he desired her. A punishment, maybe, because he’d learned something about her tonight as well, confirmed his suspicions.
The door opened and, her face a mask of serenity, Mrs. Parker gracefully glided in, her husband in her wake. “We still have things to work out, but at least we’re talking again.”
She walked over to Bishop, rose up on her toes, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for everything. I shan’t be coming to see you any longer.”
“I shall miss our card games. You were a formidable opponent.”
“I suspect you often let me win.”
“I never lose on purpose.”
Daisy fought not to be jealous of the ease between them. But then she suspected they’d always been honest with each other. There’d been no subterfuge.
“Miss Townsend, would you like us to return you—” Mr. Parker began.
“I’ll provide her with transportation,” Bishop said. “No sense in you going out of your way when she and I are traveling in the same direction.”
Mr. Parker approached and shook his hand. “Thank you, sir, for offering us the opportunity to rethink matters.”
“I’m glad I had the right of it.”
Mr. Parker turned to her. “Send me an accounting of what I owe, and I’ll see it paid immediately.”
Daisy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
As the couple began to leave, Bishop placed his hand on the small of Daisy’s back, indicating she should follow them. When they reached the foyer, Jewel was waiting.
“Thank you, Jewel, for your assistance,” Bishop said.
“It was the least I could do to show our appreciation for your latest donation.”
Daisy was beginning to believe this man was far more complicated than she’d imagined, with layers to him that a lifetime might never uncover. Yet, as dangerous as it might be, she wanted to delve into his hidden depths and discover the true Bishop.
Once they were in his carriage, sitting on opposite squabs, he pulled the curtains across the windows. “Wouldn’t do for you to be seen alone with me, late at night. Especially leaving a brothel.”
“Former brothel,” she reminded him. “How did you know of it?”
“How do you think? I visited when I was much younger. Surrendered my virginity to a sweet girl named Sally Greene.”
She could tell by his tone that he had fond memories, and she didn’t want to explore why she was struck with a bit of envy. Of more interest was the fact that they were sitting here talking about his virginity. She didn’t know if she’d ever heard the word spoken aloud, but he’d uttered it as though they possessed an intimacy that allowed them to discuss anything. “Why do you do it? Why pretend to have affairs with women?”
