from the cheap brandy in his glass, not the spark of arousal from the sassy promises of the lightskirt who hovered near his shoulder. He was numb.
How had that happened? When had the usual thrills lost their abilities to sate him? There had been a time earlier in his return from abroad when simply being in a seedy place like this, several streets away from the well-lit halls of St James’s, had been thrill enough to send his adrenalin racing at the prospect of needing to draw the knife secreted in his boot. He’d liked the prospect so much, he’d bought this place from the owner, who was looking to retire.
These days, he was the king of the roost. He’d made the seamy gaming hall his private kingdom. Young bloods looking for racy diversions came to try their hand against him at cards. Hardened gamblers appealed to him for loans when their luck was down. The whores offered themselves to him willingly. He had gone looking for the underworld and now it came looking for him.
He hardly left except to make a rare appearance in the ton, as he had done several weeks ago to escort his Aunt Lily to an early Season ball. He genuinely liked his Aunt Lily and her forthright manner. But as for the ton, Paine much preferred life outside high society’s restrictions and expectations. His time in India had taught him that. The fact that he had grown tired of his current arrangement merely indicated he needed to find a new excitement.
Paine set down his cards to a chorus of groans from the table and began unrolling his shirtsleeves.
‘You’re not thinking of leaving before we have a chance to win back our losses?’ one dandy cried in dismay. ‘It is only midnight.’
‘Exactly so—’ Paine replied, breaking off in mid-sentence. He narrowed his gaze and looked into the smoky gloom beyond the table towards the entrance. There was a commotion at the front. ‘Gentleman, if you’ll excuse me, there seems to be a problem that needs my attention.’
Paine strode towards the door, aware for the first time that evening of a prick of anticipation growing within him. This was what he needed, something unknown and unpredictable, to spark his enthusiasm again.
‘John, is there anything wrong?’ Paine asked the doorman.
‘Doorman’ was a polite word for John’s occupation. The hulking man with the crooked nose was charged with the duty of keeping people in who didn’t pay their debts and keeping out those who didn’t belong to the murky depths of the hell. It was a duty he did well. There was seldom an occasion John couldn’t manage. Tonight seemed to be a rare exception. John appeared relieved to see him, although Paine was having difficulty noticing what the trouble might be.
‘It’s this ’ere chit. She’s asking for you.’ John stepped aside, revealing what his girth had hidden from Paine’s approach.
Paine’s breath caught and his member stirred violently. The girl was stunning. One look at her generous invitation of a mouth and his mind was awash with images of bedding her, of stripping her out of the turquoise silk that hugged her curves exquisitely and kissing her until she cried out for all of him. In his veins, his blood began to heat at the prospect. He was alive again.
‘It’s all right, John. I’ll speak with her.’ Paine clapped the big man on the shoulder. Was that relief he saw on the girl’s face? He was certain he didn’t know her. She looked far too fine to be familiar with the places he frequented. And too innocent, he amended. There were no chandeliers or crystal goblets here, but the woman beside him had the carriage and clothing of a woman who was familiar with such trappings.
He gave her one of his rare smiles and offered his arm, drawing her inside. He felt her gloved hand tense where it lay on the sleeve of his linen shirt as she took in the surroundings and he saw the place through her eyes while they wended through the tables; the smell of stale smoke mingled with alcohol and unwashed sweat; the worn garb of the patrons, the faded upholstered chairs and scarred tables.
Belatedly, he recalled he had left his own jacket at the table and that he wore no extra adornments as was his wont when gambling. No diamond pin twinkled in the folds of a nonexistent cravat, no gems sparkled at the cuffs of his sleeves. By ton standards he was in extreme dishabille, garbed only in a plain white shirt and tan breeches—a far cry from the expected dark evening wear.
Paine turned down a narrow hallway and opened the first door on his left. It was a small room that served as his office of sorts for when he discussed loans or other private issues. He ushered her inside and motioned that she should sit.
‘Can I get you a drink? I have ratafia or sherry.’ She shook her head and Paine shrugged, fixing a brandy to give himself something to do. Once he had his glass, he took his customary place behind the plain wooden desk and studied her, waiting for her to state her business.
Beautiful and nervous, he concluded, although she was hiding it bravely. She didn’t fidget with her pristine white-gloved hands, but held them clasped tightly in her lap. Her posture was rigid. Despite the control she held over the rest of her body, her eyes gave her away completely. Her eyes were bold, challenging orbs of jade. He’d seen the exact shade in the gem markets of Calcutta, transported from the mines of the Kashmir Vale, an exotic green polished to an emerald sheen. She wanted something.
He could not imagine what he had to offer a stranger such as herself. But whatever she thought he had, she wanted it desperately. The challenge in her eyes said as much.
She did not speak and Paine felt obliged to fill the lengthening silence. ‘Since we have not met, let me introduce myself. I am Paine Ramsden. However, you already know that. I feel distinctly at a disadvantage, for I have no idea who you might be.’
‘I am Julia Prentiss. I thank you for agreeing to see me.’ She spoke matter of factly, giving Paine the unlikely impression it might have been daylight outside and this meeting nothing more than a standard interview.
‘This is a rather unusual time of evening for a business appointment. I must admit I am quite curious as to why you’re here.’ Paine leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands and trying to look as if he weren’t fully aroused from the sight of her magnificent figure or the sound of her voice.
He saw the long column of her neck work briefly as she swallowed. For the first time since she’d entered the establishment, he felt her resolve waver. When she did not speak immediately, Paine offered a lifeline. ‘Do you need money?’ Perhaps she had a gambling debt. It was not unusual for women to wager beyond their capabilities at cards at a ball or house party.
She shook her head, causing the aquamarine earbobs to dance lightly. Too late, Paine realized his faulty reasoning. The earbobs alone could have been discreetly pawned to cover a small debt. Good lord, he’d only known her for a handful of minutes and she’d addled his wits. His manhood strained against his trousers. He hoped she’d get to the point soon so he could begin his own manoeuvres.
‘I need you to ruin me.’ The words came out in a rush; a light blush coloured her flawless alabaster cheeks.
‘Ruin?’ Paine quirked an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean by “ruin”? Shall I ruin you at the gaming tables? I can arrange to have you lose any amount of your choosing.’
Her gaze met his evenly in all seriousness, her courage having returned in full force now that she’d begun talking. ‘I don’t wish to lose any money. I wish to lose my virginity. I want you to ruin me in bed.’
His mind warned of danger while his member fairly exploded at the anticipated pleasure being handed to it. Dangerous pleasure—his favourite kind of diversion. ‘I am not opposed to such an arrangement,
