Hunting the Hero (The Wild Randalls 4)

She stepped forward and held out her bare, ringless hand to him. “Calista, my lord.”

He took her hand, noting the coldness of her slim fingers as he kissed the back of them. “A pleasure.”

He released her hand even while imagining that cold grip wrapped around his limbs and other parts. How long would it take to warm her until her skin glistened by firelight? He knew several ways to build a heat quickly, and a romp in between the sheets was certainly the most appealing.

“A pleasure, certainly.” Calista circled him, her hand sweeping over his bottom in a fleeting caress. He withheld a groan, determined not to betray how deeply she affected him. “Not yet, but soon,” she said.

The dark-haired woman raised a brow, as if daring him to disagree with her. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, he accepted her silent challenge. It wouldn’t be him to cry for mercy at the end of the night. She would be the one asking him for pleasure to cease. He held out his hand. “Very soon.”

Amusement twinkled in her eyes and after a moment Calista placed her cold, slender hand in his. “Do you really believe you can handle me, my lord?”

He gripped her tightly, feeling the bones of her hand shift within his. He relaxed his grip but didn’t dare let her go. “Oh, yes. I do.”

CHAPTER 2

SINFULLY BEAUTIFUL MEN were Meredith Clark’s weakness, especially ones who didn’t notice the spell they cast over their captive audience. Known only as Calista in the secluded country brothel, Meredith Clark breathed deep, scenting the clean skin and earthy fragrance of Lord Grayling as he filled her starved senses. Her job might be to please those who came into her arms and bed, but gaining a little pleasure for herself in return was always an unlooked-for treat.

“I believe I shall leave you in Calista’s capable hands, my lord. Do be sure to ring if you require the slightest embellishment to your night,” Linnie murmured, casting Meredith a look that warned she’d better not leave him wanting for anything. The madam departed soundlessly. Grayling barely acknowledged Linnie’s departure. He remained apart and returned Meredith’s frank stare.

Meredith’s pulse quickened. Grayling was handsome and had an air of command. A fallen angel sent to lure any good woman to ruin. Not that Meredith’s ruin was possible or even probable now. She’d fallen as far as she could already without being forced to beg. Yet when she looked Grayling over from head to toe, the idea of begging this man for anything involving pleasure held an appeal she could not dismiss easily. Men of his caliber rarely came her way.

Grayling’s eyes flowed over her from the top of her head to dainty, pointed slipper. Not a new situation. A whore was always leered at and she was prepared to be pleasing no matter the circumstances. Meredith looked her best tonight. The cream color of her fine muslin gown left few surprises for a gentleman’s imagination to fill. She enjoyed seeing their stunned, almost slavering, expressions. The majority of her gowns were little better than tissue.

However, for the first time in quite a long time, Meredith couldn’t help feeling just a little overcome by a man’s scrutiny. Even if she was dressed in the primmest of gowns, she was rather afraid Grayling would unnerve her. There was an intensity in his gaze that most others of his class lacked. A surety that he was entitled to what he saw and touched and one would like being his property. Crave it even.

Meredith reprimanded herself for becoming so distracted by her quarry. Handsome men were also trouble. She gestured to the far table, cluttered with bottles of spirit and expensive glassware, ignoring the way her body demanded she make him hers immediately. “May I offer you refreshment, my lord?”

His lips pursed momentarily.

Surely he didn’t believe she wanted him too foxed to be of any use in bed? Where was the challenge in that? Many a whore used that trick to lessen their client’s desire, but that certainly wasn’t her plan for Grayling. Meredith reached for a bottle and squinted at the label to be sure she held the right one. “Linnie has a fine brandy if you prefer that over the wine you were served on your arrival.”

She flexed her fingers around the neck of the bottle as she showed him what she held, watching his eyes widen and the bulge in his breaches grow as she observed him.

Grayling shook his head as if to clear away the fog of lust but then barked a laugh. “Thank you. I do prefer brandy to wine.”

Meredith withheld a grin of triumph, pleased that she’d guessed correctly about him. There had been the faintest hint of brandy beneath the cologne that cloaked him. A man of his power would not sip wine when he wanted enjoyment. The way Grayling watched her was bold and demanding. There would be no half measures for him. What would he expect in bed? Her pulse raced with possible choices. She could think of any number of interesting ways to keep Lord Grayling occupied this evening and she was rather pleased to have rescued him from Solange’s uninspired passions.

The heat of his hands, for instance, would be put to better use wrapped around her naked flesh. She shivered at the memory of his warmth and turned back to the task of pouring drinks, surprised that she was looking forward to the evening ahead more than she usually did.

And it wasn’t just the bet she had made with Linnie, although an expensive bauble for her fingers could fetch a pretty penny one day should she need it. She had her future to think of. Getting Grayling to return a second night, and thereby earn half his fee, was another inducement to captivate him. But still. There was something about him that made her believe she’d remember him long after he’d gone. Tonight she might find a memory to treasure on the lonely nights ahead.

She served Grayling Linnie’s finest brandy, a smaller portion for herself, and returned to the earl, allowing their fingers to brush his with seeming innocence. She raised her glass. “A toast.”

His dark brow arched farther to show his surprise.

“To the esteemed lords of England, Ireland, and Scotland,” Meredith murmured. “May they all be as blessed as you in looks and in intelligence and find their own pleasure before the night is through.”

After a moment, Grayling offered up a smile that spoke of embarrassment, amusement and grudging respect. He drank to her toast. “You are very good,” he murmured in a voice so deep and dark that she shivered.

“Oh, the best you’ve never had,” Meredith replied in as daring a manner as she could manage while simultaneously restraining her own amorous tendencies. It was hard to know who was seducing whom right now because she had the astonishing urge to claim the man as if he were her own personal toy.

“Modest to a fault.” He laughed and gestured to a nearby chair. “Would you care to sit?”

Meredith beamed at his gallantry and took a place on the settee closest to the fire. At this time of year, she could never manage to ignore the chill of the night. Besides, the settee would allow for greater intimacies to spring up between them. An innocent touch, the seemingly random brush of her limb against his as she appeared engaged in his conversation while planning the next part of his seduction. This would be so easy and she would have her prize come morning.

Grayling seated himself in a spindly wooden chair across from her, spoiling her plans for a direct, hands-on seduction. He sat back, one leg crossed over the other, the fabric of his breeches straining to reveal well-muscled thighs. Her mouth watered. Her body pulsed. The polished boot attached to his upper leg swung back and forth in a hypnotizing dance that kept her attention fixed on his large body.

She blinked and dragged her gaze back to his sparkling green eyes, which were again filled with amusement at her expense. She did her best to keep her irritation hidden. Grayling’s seemingly innocent smile was utterly fraudulent. He’d sat apart just to upset her plans for unfettered success. She’d have to be mu