Meredith laughed and slipped her arms about his waist. His warmth and scent filled her. She snuggled closer, pleased to feel a thickening lump pressed against her belly. He was always aroused when he arrived. She hoped he didn’t ride his horse in that condition. It could be painful. “Not true.”
It took a moment to notice that Constantine had not moved to embrace her. He watched her curiously, his green eyes serious. “So, is your name Miss Bower?”
Meredith released her grip on his waist and stretched to cup his rear. She squeezed and then kneaded the firm flesh. There was nothing quite like bedding a fit and heavenly scented man. Grayling was fast becoming a favorite. “Absolutely not. I cannot imagine where he heard such a falsehood. I merely chose not to correct him.”
He caught her hands and lifted them high over her head before spinning her about and backing her against a wall. “Are you ever honest?”
“Frequently, my lord. But my identity is something I will never tell you or anyone that comes after you. That woman is dead.”
Meredith saw the flinch of pain in his eyes at the mention of death. She rose up on her toes and kissed his jaw. “Can you not accept me as I am?”
He tightened his grip on her hand and stared down at her, the intensity of his gaze growing until she feared the answer would be no. She lowered her heels to the floor, but her arms remained trapped high above her head. When Grayling did not soften one inch, she dropped her eyes to his cravat. The mathematical knot was perfectly tied. Would she ever gain the satisfaction of untying it again?
Grayling lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “Are you like this with every man who comes to your bed?”
Meredith rolled her eyes. Must every man demand to know he was the best when it came to pleasure? “No. You seem to bring out the worst in me. But that brings to mind a problem. I need to talk to you. Please, won’t you release me so we might talk in a civilized fashion?”
He dropped her hand so abruptly that it wouldn’t surprise her to discover he’d forgotten how he’d held her. Meredith rubbed her wrists and directed him to the couch by the window so she could see his expression clearly as they talked. “In my line of work, it is unusual for a woman to be bound to one patron every night for so long a stretch of time. In most cases, she would not spend the entire night with one man alone. She would service several. That is how such establishments—and myself, to a degree—make a living.”
His face reddened. “I hadn’t realized I’d become an inconvenience to your games.”
Meredith pressed her slick palms together. “I didn’t say I don’t enjoy your company, but my exclusivity has become a sticking point with several patrons. As you just discovered, Lord Squires has an interest in my available time.”
“Would you rather they fucked you instead?”
Meredith winced at the harshly worded question but did her best not to show her discomfort. “I never said that. What I’m trying to say, to warn you about, is that Mrs. Cohen may try to increase the fee she charges you and if you don’t pay, I’ll be forced to leave your bed before you might be ready for me to go. I cannot continue to sleep all night in your arms. It is impractical for a woman in my profession.”
“A woman like you,” he repeated. He crowded her, forcing her into the corner of the couch until she had nowhere else to go. His green eyes burned hot. “I’ve not imagined you lust for my touch.”
Oh, how she wanted him. When he had her under his control, wringing pleasure from every nerve, she couldn’t deny him. Even now, when he was so angry, his eyes had darkened to a shade she’d never seen and she still wanted him. “I’ve never denied it.”
He blinked slowly. “So what do you want me to do? Offer you the position as my mistress? Bring you enough jewels and trinkets to slip on your arms that you could not lift them?”
Meredith grasped his shoulders. “I want nothing from you. Have I ever mentioned a hope of becoming your mistress?” She shook him. “No, I never intended to, but I do have a question to pose to you about your intentions. What on earth are you doing, coming here night after night? If you keep this up, you’ll be nothing more than a penniless beggar. You have a wife. Go back to her.”
“I can’t go back. She left me.”
Meredith caught her breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “When?”
“Two years ago now.”
The woman was a fool to have walked away from such a man. Grayling had never struck her as a hard person to be around. Possessive, determined, and diabolically wicked with his need to have his way in bed, perhaps. She cupped his face with both hands and brushed her lips against his. “You’ve been lonely?”
“Never when I’m with you.”
He stood and crossed the room to squat before the fire. He grabbed a poker and fussed with the embers, added more wood, and then dusted his hands off. When he faced her again, his expression was one of extreme sadness. He must have loved his wife very much. He must have been cruelly disappointed.
Determined to turn his mind from his troubles, Meredith rose and took his hand. She led him to bed, covered his glorious body with hers, and did her utmost to drive his loneliness from his mind. It was only later, when Meredith had exhausted every trick she knew to please him without intercourse and was on the brink of sleep, that she dared to ask why his wife had left him.
Grayling sighed heavily and tucked her against his chest, curling around her body to keep her warm through the night. His lips whispered over her shoulder in a gentle kiss. “You misunderstand. She didn’t go voluntarily. I killed my wife.”
Meredith held still until his breath evened out into the sleep of an exhausted man and then carefully slipped from his embrace. She huddled on the far side of the bed and tried to make sense of his words. Grayling couldn’t possibly be a killer and admit it so freely. She didn’t believe he was the least bit dangerous. Tomorrow, she would get the truth of it, but for now, just to be sure, she wouldn’t sleep a wink.
CHAPTER 8
THE HEAVY WEIGHT lying in Constantine’s pocket burned a hole through his coat. Calista had not been available when he’d arrived, and he’d been cooling his heels in the red-velvet bedchamber for at least half an hour. He supposed he deserved to wait after skulking like a thief from the bed where Calista slept in careless abandon this morning. He had a lot to make up for.
A woman moaned and he scowled at the wall dividing this room from the next. When the moans turned to full-throated cries of a passably believable orgasm, he shook his head. The question Calista had asked him yesterday came back to haunt him. What was he doing here again? The seventh day in a row. He’d spent a fortune to be with Calista. A fortune he’d spend a dozen times over to have more time with her. To have her all to himself.