Page 40 of The Awakening of Ivy Leavold
“Every time I find you in my house, I have this desperate fear that it will be the last,” he said in between kisses. “How can I keep a wild animal caged in such a forlorn pen?”
Wild. Yes. I was wild. And that very wildness urged me to push him away. He would be the death of me, he had killed Violet…
He moved his lips to my neck, and that voice perished as suddenly as it had arisen. Want kindled within me, and God help me if the fear did not make the desire all the sharper. God help me if the danger did not ignite additional layers of excitement in my chest, and when his lips finally met mine again with the hunger of a starving man, the prey within me crowed at conquering the predator.
His lips on my skin were arousing, keenly thrilling, but at the same time, the most natural thing in the world. He and I were meant to touch each other, caress each other. How could I fear the man I was made for? No matter what he had done?
As if reading my thoughts, he pulled away. “Ivy, we need to talk.”
Trepidation coursed through me. It was a ridiculous fear given what I had learned today…but what if he told me that we couldn’t continue on like this? I had expected him to abandon me at some point, all men did with their mistresses, but this was too soon. Too, too soon.
I let him guide me to the sofa, and then he went over to a low bar to pour himself a glass of something dark and smoky-smelling. He handed me a glass too, which I accepted but did not drink. I felt wary, on edge.Please don’t let this end yet, I prayed.I need more of this. More of him.
He sat next to me, tugging at his cravat. He still wore his traveling boots and he smelled of the summer evening—dry grass and sunlight and that indefinable male scent that always clung to him.
“I want you,” he said after a minute. Relief swelled.
“You may have me anytime you like, sir.”
“Sir?” He raised his eyebrows. “Have I frightened you or distanced you in some way?”
My mind flashed to the police station, to the scribbled coroner’s report. “No,” I lied, “but—”
He held up his free hand. “Nosirthen, unless my cock is inside of you. Then you may call me whatever you like.” He finally pulled his cravat loose and tossed it on the floor. “Do you remember the night we were in here together? When I made you come for the first time?”
Heat sank between my legs at the memory. “Yes,” I said, breath threading through my voice.
“You remember all the things I said to you?”
Once we start, there will be no stopping. I’ll have you in every room of this house, on every surface. I’ll make you climax as often as it suits me, even if it’s several times an hour for an entire night. I’ll make you thrash underneath me and beg…
I nodded, biting my lip.
“I meant those things. Iamsorry that I couldn’t stop myself from taking you…” His eyes trailed down my body. “But I’m not a saint, Ivy. And you are truly so delicious.”
The heat was flaring now, spreading to my breasts, to every part of my sex.
“I want to show you how to please me and how I can please you. I would like to teach you how women and men are with one another. But first, we must talk about your position within my household.”
My position. As a poor nobody. A thought of Molly and her reputed wealth wormed through my mind, but I forced myself to ignore it. All I had left in this world was my freedom and my pride; I’d sacrifice neither, not even for Mr. Markham. If he meant to imply that I would be some sort of concubine, that I should use my body to earn my keep, then I would stand up and walk out. I knew there would necessarily be gray areas in our new arrangement, but my pride couldn’t bear the idea of something as bald as prostitution. I’d rather be a governess than a strumpet.
I raised my chin, meeting his gaze, and he must have seen some of the conflict in my eyes, because he shook his head and said, “No, wildcat. That’s not what I meant.”
“Good,” I said. “I won’t be your whore simply because I have no money and no relations.”
“This is exactly why I wanted to talk about this,” he said, leaning forward. “Don’t feel for a moment that I care about your status. In fact, I rather like having you here like this—all to myself and unattached to anybody else.” The words were dark, the meaning darker. I shivered. He liked having me entirely at his mercy and his whims. And I liked it too.
He took a sip of his drink and then set it down on the table next to the sofa. “But I have to know that you aren’t acquiescing to this out of fear or worry for your survival. There’s noquid pro quoin my bed. I don’t want that. I don’t want you to want that.”
I breathed again, my fists unclenching. I hadn’t even realized that they were clenched in the first place.
He put his hand on my thigh, and instantly, my anxiety and anger flooded away, replaced with desire. “I want to educate you, wildcat, not use you.”
“So how do we go forward?” I asked. “I don’t know how this works. Do we live as we do now and keep my…education…a secret? Or am I to be more like a mistress?”
Here his face set. Time seemed to slow incrementally, everything half a beat too slow and drawn out, from the desultory crackle of the fire and languid throb of my pulse.
“Neither,” Mr. Markham said. “I want you to be my wife.”
