Promise Me Forever Read online

  Not wanting to embarrass her further, he did not so much as grin at her squeak, though it was cute. Smiling, he replied, “Well, Heather, let us get one thing straight. I am not a sir. My name is Drew, and I prefer it to sir."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Drew,” he corrected gently.

  "Drew."

  "Much better.” He trailed a finger over her cheek. “Much better, indeed.” He lowered his hand to skim a finger along her jaw and down the side of her neck. Her skin rose up into goose bumps beneath his touch, encouraging him as he continued caressing her collarbone. Tracing over her flesh, he savored the smooth, silken feel of it, and smiled as her eyes grew heavy-lidded, her head tilting slightly to one side.

  He leaned forward, his lips brushing where his fingers had been on her collarbone before shifting, moving up to caress the slope of her neck. The soft, delicate lilac scent of her perfume tickled his nose, a far cry from the heavy sweetness of the foyer.

  She remained stiff against his lips, unyielding as he slid an arm about her waist. He pulled away to gaze down into her eyes once more. “I promise you, you can relax. I'll not hurt you."

  "I'm sorry...” she murmured.

  "Don't apologize. Enough with the apologies.” He let his arm drop to his side and took a step back. “So far, you've done nothing to be sorry for."

  With that, he moved around her to approach the decanter on the dressing table. He poured himself a glass and took a swallow. As he expected, the brandy was smooth and mellow. He turned back to Heather and said, “Would you care for a drink?"

  He held her gaze, awaiting her response as she paused. She had yet to relax, despite his overtures, and he didn't miss how her hand came up to brush the neckline of her tawdry gown. Her fingers bent slightly about the stiff lace, as if she was fighting back the urge to grab hold and tug up her bodice. It caught and held his attention, and she must've noticed his stare, for the flush in her cheeks spread down into her neck and blossomed outward.

  "No, thank you,” she finally replied, pulling her hand away from her gown to gesture to the glass in his hand. “I'd rather not, if you don't mind."

  "I don't mind at all.” He finished his drink and set the glass down. It was hard to miss her muffled gasp as he reached up to the throat of his shirt to part the fabric. Her blush grew deeper still and he shook his head, saying, “I have to admit, Miss Heather, you are not exactly what I expected."

  "So you make it a habit, then? Of visiting brothels, that is?"

  Her sharp response sounded very much like a scolding, but the lack of force in her voice rendered it the most ineffective scolding he'd ever heard. It was impossible to do much more than grin again as he shook his head, his hands going still. “Ah, so there is a bit of fire in you. Glad to see it. But, in answer to your question, no I'm not in the habit of visiting brothels. I simply meant that you just do not look like one who should be working in such a place."

  "Really, now?” She knew she shouldn't let him irritate her. Hadn't Madam Allison told her repeatedly that her opinions did not matter? She was to be pleasant and agreeable, no matter what the circumstance.

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady her roiling belly. After all, she knew he hadn't paid the madam for conversation, but she was uncertain as to what to do next. Should she undress herself, or would he prefer that honor? Should she simply slip her arms about his neck? Or would there be no kissing, as Sally preferred?

  It was Sally who'd warned Heather about the dangers of kissing in their line of work, insisting that kissing was far too intimate and intimate was far too dangerous, as it led to grandiose notions and hopes that could never come into being. As for herself, Heather wasn't at all certain what would be the best approach for her and thusly, hadn't decided if she'd kiss a gentleman or not.

  It wasn't usually a problem, Sally explained, as few of the men passing through were interested in kissing. Intimacy on that level was not high on their list of reasons for being at Delilah's.

  Heather lowered her lashes so she could sneak a peek at Drew's lips. She knew she wouldn't mind kissing him. Somehow, she had the feeling he would not disappoint her. Of course, her experience with kissing was somewhat limited, so she wasn't exactly sure how he could disappoint her.

  Drew cleared his throat as he stepped closer to her. “I meant no offense, Miss Heather."

  "Please, do stop calling me ‘miss',” she said, looking up at him. “I mean, unless of course, you wish to."

  "There is no need to play games with me.” He took another step closer. “I am not about to complain to Madam Allison. You don't have to agree with everything I say. In fact, you don't have to agree to anything you don't wish to.” He closed the distance between them.

  "I don't?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "But, Madam has said—"

  "I don't give a damn what that old crone said. She certainly does not dictate to me, especially after the exorbitant price she fetched for you. Tell me, why would you go for so steep a price, love?"

  As he spoke, he traced his fingertip along her cheek again. Her eyelids drooped a tad, as if she wanted nothing more than to lean into his hand, to snuggle her cheek against it. It was quite heady, actually, feeling her surrender. That's what she did, though she most likely hadn't realized it.

  It became apparent that she hadn't as she sleepily murmured, “I—I've no idea. I don't even know what she asked. Not that it matters. It is her money. Hers alone."

  "You mean, you do not even see a percentage of it?"

  She shook her head. “No. Not for at least six months."

  Drew was certain he couldn't have heard her correctly. Why would any lady of the evening agree to such terms? “Six months?"

  It was as though she'd suddenly realized what she said. Jerking her head up and away from his hand, she stammered, “Pl-please, do forget I said anything."

  Lowering his hand, he frowned at her. “You are new at this, aren't you? I've a feeling a seasoned lady would not have wasted all this time with chitchat."

  She felt a hint of defensiveness at his knowing tone. “I've no wish to discuss this any further. Now, sir, shall we take care of what you came here to take care of?"

  Drew threw back his head and laughed. “That has to be the most succinct way of saying it that I've ever heard.” He reached for his shirt for a third time. “But, if you insist..."

  This time, the breath was snatched from her throat as he parted the white silk covering his chest. What had been a hint of black hair earlier now spread out over the muscled rise of his chest, thinning down into a trail down his flat belly before disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.

  "Come here,” he murmured, his voice now husky.

  She took a tentative step towards him. “Yes?"

  Drew smiled again, and it was the most sensual smile she'd ever seen. Somehow, she didn't think he was a novice with women. It seemed he was quite experienced in the art of seduction. His smile sent a rush through her, a rush she'd never felt before, one that sent her toes to curling once more. Some of the terror she'd been feeling faded away as she took another step towards him.

  "I wish to see what goes with this lovely face,” he said softly, drawing her into his arms.

  She froze, feeling his fingers on her back, tugging the silk cord holding her gown together. A slight breeze skittered over her flesh as he parted the fabric easily. A slight tug, and the gown slipped from her shoulders. It poured from her, pooling about her ankles.

  She stood before him, her hair tumbling over her shoulders—the only thing shielding her from his eyes. She fought the urge to cover herself as he stepped back and his eyes roamed over her length. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life, wanting to fidget beneath that heavy, indigo gaze.

  His eyes were even darker now as he whispered, “Stunning. Absolutely stunning."

  Tears stung her eyes as she realized what was coming next. She blinked them back, trying to ignore her growing embarrassment,
fighting not to squirm before him. No man had ever looked at her with such unabashed lust in his eyes. Until now, Heather had never really known what a lustful look was, but Drew was giving her a most powerful introduction to it.

  His hands cupped her shoulders now, heat seeping into her flesh, sending another rush through her entire body. A sudden curiosity gripped her. She wanted to know what lay hidden beneath his clothing as well.

  His fingers caressed her bared skin, slipping up her neck to cradle her face. He tilted her head back and her eyes closed as he brought his lips down to capture hers. If his kisses gave any indication, Heather thought she just might enjoy her time with this man. His lips were dry and warm, thoroughly enticing, as they moved against hers.

  Maybe Sally wouldn't have kissed him, but she would never know how she'd deprived herself by refusing to do so. His kiss was wonderful, a gentle caress that left her feeling more than a bit lightheaded and weak-kneed.

  She felt a fluttering deep in the pit of her belly, like fingers gently tickling her from the inside. Her heartbeat quickened as her eyelids grew heavy. But it wasn't an unpleasant heaviness. Rather, her limbs seemed to go buttery as warmth spread through her. His kiss was very nice. Very nice, indeed.

  She started at the insistent pressure of his tongue against her closed mouth. She'd never kissed a man this way, was hesitant to let him proceed, but he was relentless. She had no choice but to part her lips and let him in, to bend to his will.

  His tongue caressed hers, entwining with hers to draw it back into his mouth. He tasted faintly of mint, and of course the brandy, but it wasn't an unpleasant combination. It felt a bit odd at first, then her blood seemed to bubble through her veins. The flutterings grew stronger, spiraling outward from her core and making it difficult for her to breathe.

  The pleasantness drained from her though as she felt his fingers brush her left breast. It came flooding back to her—what she was about to do with this man. She went completely still, fighting the instinct to pull away from him.

  He pulled away then, slightly out of breath as he murmured, “What is it, love? You seem almost afraid of me. I've already told you, I'll not hurt you."

  She shook her head. “No. It isn't that I am afraid. At least, not of you."

  "Of what, then?"

  "Never mind that. It is unimportant, really.” She took a deep breath, knowing there would be no turning back as she said, “Now, shall we get you undressed?"

  Three

  He caught her wrist as she reached for the fastenings of his trousers. “Wait a moment."

  "Yes?"

  He caught her beneath the chin with his free hand once more, tilting her face to his. “Why are there tears in your eyes?"

  She forced herself to hold his gaze. His face was blurry, as her eyes nearly overflowed. The gentleness in his eyes did nothing to ease those tears, though. She hadn't expected her first gentleman to be so kind, and she wasn't the least bit certain what he expected now. He thoroughly confused her, making her discomfort even worse.

  Of course, she could not say that, so instead she said the first thing that came to mind. “I've no idea what you mean. Now, shall we?"

  He leaned forward, brushing her forehead with his lips. “Get dressed."

  "I beg your pardon?” she asked, certain she could not have heard him correctly.

  "I said, get dressed. I've no intention of sleeping with you."

  Oh, dear. This was not what was supposed to happen. Madam Allison was going to be furious with her. How was she going to explain this? “But, Madam Alli—"

  "Don't worry about the wrinkled old prune,” he told her gruffly. “It is my money and I'll spend it how I see fit. You do not belong here."

  "But, I do belong here."

  "Oh, do you now? Is that why you are crying? Am I so repulsive to you, then?"

  She frowned. How could he possibly be serious? How could any woman find him repulsive? If anything, he was far too handsome for his own good. “I beg your pardon?"

  "Does the idea of taking me to your bed bring tears to your eyes? It seems to be doing just that."

  She sighed, knowing she was going to catch hell from the madam when he demanded his money be returned to him. She had an enormous debt to work off and it would never be paid if she welled up each time a man entered her room. There had to be some way to diffuse the situation, before it was too late and he stormed out. “No. It isn't you."

  He grinned. “I suppose I ought to be relieved to hear that. What is it then? But before you pour your heart out to me, please, let me help you dress."

  She crouched down to tug her gown back into place, allowing him to catch her by the shoulders and turn her so he could re-lace it. “I need only a moment. Then we can—"

  "Do not trouble yourself about that, Heather. You look so miserable. Please, tell me, why the misery?” He lowered himself down onto the edge of the bed.

  She didn't want to look at him. Sitting on the red velvet coverlet, with his shirt still open, Drew was far too desirable, despite her reservations. If only the thought of joining him didn't fill her with such terror, such shame. “I think, perhaps, we ought to—"

  "Heather, enough. You have my word that I'll not demand my money be returned to me. As I said earlier, this isn't a habit of mine. To begin with I must admit, it bothers me some that I'm even here in the first place."

  "Really, now?"

  He nodded, clasping his hands, letting them dangle between his knees. “I don't frequent brothels."

  "So, why are you here, then? I mean to say, if you don't usually...” Her voice trailed off as a fresh wave of embarrassment squeezed her belly.

  He smiled as her eyes widened and her voice faded away. “A friend of mine. Now he frequents such establishments quite regularly. He told me of one of the girls here. A new girl who was so beautiful I had to see her for myself.” His eyes caught hers and held her gaze. “And I do believe I have."

  Heather felt heat creep into her cheeks, but it was a nice heat. A ripple of satisfaction flowed through her. No one had ever told her she was beautiful and it did wonders for her to hear this man say he found her so. More so than she would have thought. “Now, you might be mistaken."

  He shook his head. “I don't think so. Now tell me, why is it you are here?"

  She hedged, not wanting to go into the sad, sordid details of how she found her way to Delilah's. It embarrassed her almost as much as being there did. “Let's simply say it is a matter of circumstance."

  "I see. Six months’ worth of circumstances?"

  "Something like that."

  "Well, it must be a winner, whatever it is. At what Allison charged me, you must be into her for a king's ransom."

  "Did she charge you a hefty sum, then?"

  Drew told her how much gold had changed hands and she couldn't help her gasp. “That much?"

  His eyes narrowed then, the smile melting from his face. “Are you a virgin, my dear lady of the evening?” he asked softly.

  Now her face burned, growing hotter by the moment. It wasn't something she'd ever expected to be asked. Did her foolish innocence show so clearly? She couldn't meet his eyes as she whispered, “Yes."

  "What the hell are you doing here, then?"

  Her back stiffened. “I do not wish to discuss it."

  Drew could see the color deepening in her cheeks. He'd known the answer to his question almost immediately. She was no experienced courtesan. Her movements were too hesitant, her eyes too wide, too innocent. Even with his limited exposure to ladies of the evening, he knew.

  He felt the sigh rising up. She should not be here, surrendering her virginity to an unknown man. She did not belong in this tawdry little room. She appeared to be a lady thoroughly, despite her best intentions to be professional. He recognized this hesitancy, her fear-filled eyes, and knew he could not go through with bedding her.

  It was disappointing, to say the least. She was so lovely, so soft in his arms. Her lips were sweet, her taste sweet
er still and he had the feeling that such sweetness would only grow stronger. Still, that feeling of something being terribly wrong pervaded him. She might be willing to surrender her virginity to him in this awful little room, but Drew knew he could never relieve her of it. Not under these circumstances.

  "You don't belong here, Heather. Your hands are those of a lady, your demeanor is that of a lady. In fact, everything about you all but screams lady. Why are you whoring yourself, then?"

  The anger in his voice surprised her, but it also riled her own temper. “And why is it you care so much? I've already told you I will make certain you get your money's worth."

  "I don't give a damn about the money, Heather. I do, however, hate to see you ruin yourself when you appear to be of a higher station in life."

  "You know nothing about me."

  "Oh, don't I?” he retorted, folding his arms over his chest.

  "No. You don't."

  He unfolded his arms, holding his hands out palm up. “Do you see these? These are the hands of one who works. Rough. Calloused. Beat to hell. Now these, on the other hand—” he grabbed her wrists, twisting her hands palm up, “these are soft, unblemished. They are hands of leisure. A lady in every sense of the word. So, why is a lady here?"

  Before she could stop herself, she told him the entire sordid tale. As the story came tumbling out, she felt the weight rising from her heart. Drew listened intently without interruption. As her words trailed away, he said, “How much did your father owe?"

  "Well over eight hundred pounds."

  He whistled. “Six months, eh? In six months, you'll be quite the old hand at this, won't you? But I doubt you'll fetch so high a price."

  "Thank you.” Sarcasm dripped from her dry reply.

  He shook his head. “I didn't quite mean it that way, Heather. But, let me tell you one thing—virgins fetch a high price that first time. After that, it drops. Are you certain you wish to sell your virginity? And to sell it so cheaply?"

  "I've no other choice. My father left me with nothing except my name and even that has been tarnished.” She sunk down onto the chaise lounge. “There is nothing left for me to do except this. This was the last of his debts."