One Wicked Wish by Anna Campbell

Chapter 11

When Stella came back into the room, Halston was sitting by the fire with two glasses of champagne set out on the low table in front of him. He’d cleaned himself off, although he hadn’t put his shirt on.

Barely casting him a glance, she tied the belt of her peignoir with what he felt was unwarranted purpose. She didn’t have to tell him that she used the garment as armor.

Damn these unwelcome, disturbing insights. He should be planning the next step in his seduction. “Come and join me,” he murmured.

She didn’t venture closer, and her eyes were wary in a way that they hadn’t been since she’d agreed to become his lover. “I should go.”

Dismayed, he surged to his feet. “You can’t mean that.”

One hand made a bewildered gesture, while the other clasped the neck of her robe high against her throat. There was little trace left of the wanton goddess who had let him take her up against the wall in that monumental explosion of bliss.

He’d broken trust with her, and his inchoate fears of where this liaison might take him dissolved in a flood of excruciating regret. “Stella, forgive me.”

Her eyes remained cool. “There’s nothing to forgive. I was silly to mention things like intimacy and hearts. That wasn’t part of our arrangement. I don’t blame you for feeling hounded. I hadn’t prepared myself for how I’d react when I shared my body with a man again. I’m sorry you’ve taken all this trouble, only for me to spoil everything.”

Dear God, she was blaming herself for the fact that he was a deuced coward. “You haven’t spoiled everything.”

“Yes, I have.” She didn’t go, but nor did she join him. “I saw your face.”

He ground his teeth, cursing himself with every profanity he knew. “Sit down.”

She still didn’t move.

“Please.”

She studied him for a long moment before she stalked across to sink into the chair opposite his. Despite his turmoil, he couldn’t help noting that however often she might call herself a humble companion, humility was a quality foreign to her nature.

“You must have had love affairs that didn’t work out,” she said, still sounding like she talked about buying cabbages, instead of a torrid swiving. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Perhaps it would be the end of the world. At that instant, Halston realized that any opportunity to break away from her and return to the careless sod he’d once been had passed. It had passed back in London.

Now that he’d been inside her, he hadn’t a hope in hell of conducting this love affair as if Stella Faulkner was just another forgettable lover in a long line of forgettable lovers.

He spoke words that he never said to anyone. Words that sent a cold shiver down his spine. “Let me try and explain.”

He hadn’t set out to be changed. Yet already she changed him. God knew where he’d be when she finished with him. Useless to man or beast, he feared.

Stella’s gaze remained watchful. He thought with nostalgia of the glow in her eyes when he’d held her in his arms. But at least she was still here and prepared, if not eager, to listen to him. “There’s no need.”

“There’s every need,” he said with a hint of heat. “I’m making a deuced dog’s breakfast of this. I’m usually a more adept lover.”

Faint color warmed her cheeks. “It’s not your prowess as a lover that’s the problem. You must know that when you made love…” She stopped and searched for another word. “…when you took me, you pleased me.”

He did know. “No, it’s my prowess as a human being that’s in doubt.”

She shrugged and twined her hands together in her lap. He noticed that she didn’t rush to reassure him. “I can’t blame you for worrying about horrible scenes and emotional demands, after the way I blathered on like a green girl. We agreed to part on cordial terms in a few days, and that will end all dealings between us.”

He slashed the air with one hand, rejecting her attempt to play down the importance of what they did. “You mistake me.”

A cynical smile turned down her lips. “I don’t think so.”

With a sigh, Halston raked one hand through his hair. “I’m not running scared because you’re making unreasonable demands. I’m running scared because I have a horrible suspicion that the person who ends up asking for more will be me.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” His smile was grim. “But right now, if you walk away, I’ll miss you like the very devil.”

Shock widened her eyes, and she pressed back against the chair as if trying to escape. But as well as shock, her eyes shone with gratification. She liked hearing that he was at her mercy. “That…that wasn’t the plan.”

“I know.”

One hand crept up to her throat. With her, the gesture always expressed uncertainty. “I can’t offer more than these five days. You know I can’t.”

He spoke before he weighed all the ramifications, but what he said struck him as the perfect solution to their dilemma.

Except the dilemma was his. Stella so far, plague take her, seemed perfectly satisfied with a short-term affair followed by a permanent parting.

“I don’t know anything of the sort. In Deerforth’s house, you’re an unappreciated dogsbody. If you stay there, all your passion and fire will turn to bitterness and regret. You were born to illuminate the world, Stella.”

This time, his compliment brought no softening to her expression. The hand clutching that damned ugly robe to her throat clenched. By God, that rag she was wearing was proof enough that she’d accepted a role in life that was well beneath her. “And I’d do that as your mistress, would I?”

His look was direct. “Yes.”

“At least I might illuminate the demimonde. While I’m grateful for the offer, what happens next week or next month when you tire of me?”

She didn’t sound grateful, curse her. “Perhaps I’ll never tire of you.”

The scorn in her laugh stung. From the first, he’d liked the way she harbored no illusions about his lack of character. Right now, he’d sign over half this estate if she just gave him the benefit of the doubt. “And pigs might fly.”

“I’m not in the habit of promises.”

“I’m not asking for promises.”

No, she wasn’t. After a lifetime of discouraging females from expecting more from him than a few good fucks followed by a definitive goodbye, it seemed stupid to resent Stella’s lack of demands.

Although by all that was holy, he did. How the mighty had fallen.

“What if I set you up with a house and a carriage and everything to ensure your comfort?”

Her lips tightened. “Carte blanche, in other words.”

“Yes. I’ll cover all your expenses while you’re my mistress. I’m known as a generous lover.”

“If not a steadfast one.”

He winced again at the dry tone.

She went on. “And I suppose when you’re finished with me, I must seek another protector.”

No. By God, no.

That howl of denial must be a product of Halston’s temporary madness. His affair with Stella had only just started. It was unrealistic to think that he’d remain as desperate to have her as he was now.

But even the voice of common sense couldn’t convince him that he’d stand idly by while she turned to a new paramour. Still, his voice emerged flat when he replied. “If you like.”

“I doubt that what I like will have very much to do with it. I’ll be unfit for other employment, and I’ll need to keep body and soul together. Especially if I become accustomed to a life of luxury as your petite amie.” Her chin angled up with the pride that made Stella such an improbable servant. Her hand lowered to grip the arm of the chair, and she spoke with a firmness that he couldn’t question. “Thank you, my lord, but I don’t think I’m willing to throw away my good name and take up a life of vice.”

Her refusal should bring him back to reality. After all, his affair with Stella was meant to be a short-lived diversion before his next short-lived diversion.

Halston struggled against acknowledging the boredom that weighed on him as he thought of the long line of women ahead. When had his life of endless hedonism palled?

He could answer that in one sentence. Since the day he’d first seen Stella Faulkner.

“What if it’s not a life of vice? You admit to wanting me. God knows I’m crazy for you. What if you stay until this fire burns out? Then you may choose your own path.”

She looked troubled. “Once I become your mistress, I’ll be notorious because you’re notorious. My uncle would never take me back. No respectable person would associate with me.”

He leaned forward. “What if I contracted to pay you an allowance after you leave? Or a lump sum, if you’d rather have nothing more to do with me. We can sort out the details.”

Despite all his experience with liaisons, right now the idea of never seeing Stella again twisted his gut into knots. Even so, he liked the idea of her being independent better than he liked the idea of her leaping into some other bastard’s bed.

Halston went on before she could object. He could already see that she wanted to object, dash it. “You can make your own decision about where you go and what you do. You could travel. You could go back to Italy. Or you could establish yourself as a wealthy widow somewhere obscure where nobody will ever know that you were once my mistress. As a rich incognita, you’ll have choices that you’ll never have in your uncle’s house.”

Her eyebrows arched. “You’re talking about a major financial commitment.”

“I’ll make sure you have enough to live in comfort.” He studied her face. “You may not need to worry about this for a long time. My craving for you is so strong that I won’t be in any rush to end our association.”

Her smile was unamused. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“Damn it, Stella, I don’t want you to be flattered. I want you to tell me that you’re no happier at the thought of leaving me at the end of this week than I’m happy to leave you.”

She paled. “You sound like you mean that.”

He spread his hands. “I do.”

“But you hardly know me.”

A scornful laugh escaped, and he leaned back in his chair. “Of course I know you. Didn’t you, too, feel that instant recognition the moment we met? Think about it, my darling. For ten years, you’ve lived without a man’s touch. Yet the second time we were alone, you agreed to come to my bed.”

She looked even more troubled, which wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. “You may be right…”

When she didn’t disagree, he gave a soft purr of satisfaction. That earned him a narrow-eyed glare before she went on. “You may be right, but I don’t like the idea of you paying for my company. I’d be as much at your mercy as I am at my uncle’s. More. He doesn’t have the power to trample my feelings. You do.”

Halston smiled, wondering if she knew that she confessed to a vulnerability to match his. “I’m a rich man, Stella. If I can use those riches to provide comfort and security to the woman I want, all the better.”

“But you must marry.”

Startled, he sat up straight. “Not any time soon.”

“If I stay with you, how will I feel to see you fall in love with some well-bred miss and then set her up as your countess?”

Old cynicism had him answering before he thought about how his answer might make him appear. “There’s no danger of falling in love with my future wife. Love doesn’t exist.”

“Of course love exists.” Stella regarded him with such pity that he shifted on his chair. “My parents loved each other. They loved me. I loved Niccolo. I love Imogen.”

He shifted again. By now, he should be used to her talent for catching him off guard. “Then let’s say love doesn’t exist for me.”

To his chagrin, the pity in her eyes deepened. “Have you never loved anyone, Gray? Has nobody ever loved you?”

“No to both questions,” he said shortly.

“Some of the women you’ve taken to your bed must have loved you.”

“Must they? I know they loved the jewels I gave them and the cachet my interest lent them. Not to mention the fact that I’m a good fuck.”

Stella blanched. “Not all of them. I can’t believe that. You’re a charming man.” Her voice lowered. “You’d be tremendously easy to fall in love with.”

Did she know how much she admitted? He waited for the discussion of love to evoke the usual suffocating sensation. Instead, as he should now expect, he felt only a vast yearning.

For physical union. Desire was always present.

But for more than that. For understanding. For tenderness.

For…her.

“Kind of you to say so,” he said.

Her expression told him that was an inadequate response. He’d received that particular look from women before. With Stella, as with so much else, the disappointment cut deeper than usual.

“What about your parents? They must have loved you. It comes with the territory.”

He sighed. How had his attempt to secure her presence in his bed turned into an inquisition on his barren emotional life? “My father died when I was a baby. I never knew him.”

“What about your mother? You’re a beautiful man. You must have been a gorgeous child. I doubt anyone could resist you. Then or now. You must know that I can’t.”

Another admission from her. “My mother was a bluestocking, more interested in books than she ever was in her son.”

He thought that he concealed how his mother’s neglect had rankled. Again he recalled that lonely schoolboy at Eton, pining for his mother to visit.

But something in Stella’s eyes told him that she guessed at the wound he still bore. He braced for smothering compassion, but her jaw firmed and she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “Then she was selfish and unfair. But you must have had a nursemaid who loved you.”

He shrugged. “I suspect a few of the servants were fond of me. But I pay them, don’t I?”

“Oh, Gray…” Her sadness made his flesh creep. Good God, were those tears in her eyes?

He’d taken just about as much of this as he could. It felt like she turned his skin inside out. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me.”

“Never.” She mustered a smile. Not one of her most convincing efforts, he wanted to tell her. “You’re the magnificent Earl of Halston, the envy of all he meets.”

He hid a flinch, because if this difficult conversation had revealed anything, it was that the magnificent Earl of Halston was a failure at the most basic human relations. With a shock, he realized that when he was with Stella, he didn’t feel alone.

Look what a disaster that created. Here he was, on a night meant to be all sensual fulfillment, and he was wittering on about his childhood. It made him feel pathetic.

Halston refused to feel pathetic. Especially in front of this woman who, above all others, he wanted to admire him.

With manufactured nonchalance, he raised his champagne and took a mouthful. It was warm and flat. “So will you consider my offer?”

Stella took a minute to answer. Blast it, how he wished he could claw back the last hour and redo everything from when he’d swived her. He wished he’d carted her off to bed then and there and never started this discussion.

Her regretful glance warned him of her answer. “No.”

Frustration flooded Halston. And something that felt very like fear. He already worried about cutting a poor figure in her eyes. He’d always thought that it was a brave decision not to believe in the sentimental nonsense that people called love. Exposing his lonely childhood didn’t seem half so laudable. “You don’t trust me to look after you?”

“I do. Although I worry that you’d think I only stayed because you paid me.”

He’d said too much. His skin prickled with humiliation. She’d picked up on his comment about the staff here at Prestwick Place.

A hint of impatience edged his response. “I want my mistress to eat, if only so she stays alive to amuse me. You’re too proud.”

He thought she might resent that remark, but she bent her head in acknowledgement. The regal gesture confirmed his statement.

“I’m sorry, Gray. I won’t say I’m not tempted. I am. But I can’t do it. I’d feel like I was selling myself.” She went on before he could argue with that. “And if I ran off with you, the scandal would harm Imogen. It would reawaken all the old talk about Mamma. People would wonder whether the women in my family really are too wild to wed. She deserves better than that.”

Halston sent her a piercing glance, even as he couldn’t help accepting that Stella loved her cousin. For what else was that selfless devotion but love?

“Are you saying that you’re happy to finish with me at the end of this visit?”

He caught a flash of overpowering emotion in her eyes, before those thick gold-tipped lashes veiled them. “Not happy, no.” Her voice was grave and, to his regret, adamant. “But I’m used to putting aside what I want in favor of what I must bear.”

Halston hated that this insight into her life underlined how spoiled he was. He’d never had to sacrifice anything. His life was devoted to endless self-indulgence that he had to make no real effort to enjoy. Which perhaps explained why his enjoyment faded more with every year. Not to mention that it explained his interest in Stella Faulkner. She was the first challenge he’d faced in an age.

But he’d played enough politics, in the bedroom and in parliament, to know when to step away from a negotiation and let circumstances unfold to his advantage.

He couldn’t let Stella go back to being a stranger, and while she might say no now, who knew what she might agree to, once he showed her how much pleasure he could give her? His campaign began to win himself not just a temporary lover, but a cherished mistress.

When she raised her glass, he reached out to stop her. It was the first time he’d touched her since she’d threatened to end the affair. Even such casual contact as the brush of his fingers across her wrist sent heat sizzling through him. He knew she felt it, too, because her gold gaze flew up to meet his.

How the devil could she be satisfied with mere days of passion, when the desire between them was as inescapable as an earthquake?

“Let me pour you a fresh glass. It’s flat.”

She regarded the glass as if surprised that she held it and put it back on the table. “I don’t really want it.”

“Shall we proceed to the bedroom?” Halston stood and extended his hand. It was time to start convincing Stella that life without him wasn’t worth living. “If I’ve only got these few precious days, I don’t want to waste them.”

“And talking to me counts as wasting them?” she asked with an ironic tilt of her eyebrows.

He gave a soft laugh. “No. But conversation has served its purpose. Come to bed, Stella. The night is passing too fast, and I want to hold you in my arms.”

Her eyes softened, and she took his hand as she rose.