Page 31 of The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth
10
Charlotte leaned against Elliot’s chest as he drew her into the circle of his arms and began to rub her shoulders. This was becoming a habit, and although she enjoyed it, the idea of him being so familiar with her was disconcerting.
The last of the book club guests had departed, and she was so very tired. Dodging Mr. Spencer, who she’d been quite dismayed to see appear at the drawing room doorway, had been an exercise in futility. When she had attempted to ignore him, he’d followed her about until she’d given him her attention. She would leave strict instructions with every staff member that he was never to be granted access to her home again. If necessary, they were to tell him she moved.
Of course, he had objected to each book they discussed, and she’d had to place a staying hand on Elliot’s arm to keep him from bodily removing the man.
“Can I pour you a brandy, or would you prefer tea?”
That was another thing that had begun to frighten her. She was becoming much too dependent on Mr. Elliot Baker, Private Investigator, and his care for her. Even if she were foolish enough to place her heart in jeopardy again, he was not the man to fulfill that role. He was such a black and white individual. There were no gray areas to his way of thinking. You were either good or evil. Right or wrong. Honest or dishonest.
Were he to learn of the outstanding warrant for the theft of Lady Barton’s jewels, she was certain he would haul her off to jail. Yet, she was falling for him in a worrisome way. All she had ever wanted in her life was security and happiness. She’d had it for a brief time with Gabriel, but then fate—and his recklessness—had snatched it away.
In one of his tirades, Mr. Spencer had sermonized that Gabriel’s death was the Lord’s punishment for wrongs she had committed in her past. When he’d said that in front of Elliot, her face had flamed, and she’d wondered if Elliot had noticed. Surely, no loving God would take away the life of a young, virile man to punish his wife for wrongs not committed, but of which she’d been unfairly accused.
“A sherry would be welcome.” She felt so secure in Elliot’s arms, but forced herself to move back, and sit on the settee. There was no point in harboring such foolish hopes of anything between them. She couldn’t trust him with her secret, and he was her employee, being paid to solve a problem for her, not rub parts of her body that ached.
Well, then. That thought certainly brought heat to her middle. Dismissing the images now at the forefront of her mind, she forced her attention back to Elliot’s rigid beliefs.
It was ironic that the very reason she was hiding something from him was because she didn’t trust him to trust her. She sighed. It was all so very complicated.
He returned from the library with drinks in hand, and held one out to her, then joined her on the settee in front of the fireplace. “Your head hurts again, doesn’t it?”
She closed her eyes and nodded. It seemed to her that she could not remember the last time she’d had a carefree day with no headache and no stress. Elliot put his drink down and took her by the shoulders. “Turn around.”
“No. That is not a good idea. I feel foolish with you constantly feeling the need to massage my head.” She took a sip of her sherry. “I will be fine.”
“Can you not think of it as part of my duties?”
A smile twitched her lips. “Duties as a solicitor or a private investigator?”
Elliot grinned back. “Perhaps I shall add ‘masseuse’ to my list of services offered.” He twirled his finger in the air. “Now turn around and let me help you get rid of this headache.”
Against her better judgment but knowing how helpful his ministrations had been in the past, she leaned against his chest. His warm hands rested on her head, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. He rubbed her scalp and she moaned. “That feels wonderful.”
He grunted, and she suddenly noticed there was something very hard pressing up against her lower back where she sat snug between Elliot’s legs. Oh, good Lord, he was becoming aroused, and that aroused her. He anchored her head so it settled snugly against his shoulder and continued to rub her scalp. Feeling decadent, she relaxed, took a sip of her sherry, and enjoyed his attention.
After a few more minutes she began to grow quite warm, and parts of her body that she had ignored since Gabriel’s death began to tingle and swell. Elliot began to shift also, and then she felt his lips on her neck. Warm, and moist. He kissed her skin, then tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. Sighing softly. she bent her head to grant him better access. One of his hands slid from her hair and rested on her shoulder and squeezed. She should not be allowing this intimacy. It would only encourage something with which she was not prepared to continue. Elliot was her employee. Nothing else.
Until he moved his hand from her shoulder and his strong fingers closed over her breast.
His thumb skimmed leisurely over her nipple, bringing it to a sharp point. The tingles turned into needy throbs when he removed his other hand from her hair and grasped her chin, turning her head to take her mouth in a smoldering kiss. She shifted until she was practically sitting on his lap, but it wasn’t close enough. Clothes hindered the skin-to-skin touch her body craved. A slight knock on the drawing room door had them springing apart like two youths caught stealing kisses in the stables.
“Yes.” Lord, was that her voice? She slid off his lap and smoothed out her skirt. “Come in.” She glanced at Elliot, but the blasted man looked perfectly at ease, as if he fondled women in their drawing rooms every day.
Perhaps he did.
Bridget entered. “Cook wanted to know when she should serve dinner, since your guests have only just left.”
“Will you join me for dinner, Mr. Baker?” Didn’t she sound all proper and composed? He was not the only one who could quickly pull himself together.
“I will pass on the invitation, since I have unfinished legal work I must see to before tomorrow.”
Bridget viewed them oddly, no doubt smirking inside at their stilted words, which, added to the flush Charlotte knew covered her face, gave the girl reason to believe something improper had occurred. She stiffened, refusing to bow to embarrassment in front of her employees. “Since Mr. Baker is leaving, please have a tray sent up to my bedchamber later, but I would like a bath now.”
Bridget dipped a curtsey and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Charlotte stood and shook out her skirts. Raising her chin, she said, “I will see you out.”
Elliot rose and grasped her arm, turning her back toward him. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Charlotte. We are adults, and we did not do anything wrong.”
