His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 13

"I do not have favorites. How can you say that?"

Regret stung him. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'm just... I had very little sleep last night. Why don't we have tea tomorrow?" He offered her an olive branch, hoping she would accept. He did adore her, even when she was constantly interfering in his life.

Jane smiled. "Tea?"

"Or dinner, or whatever you wish." He rubbed his temples as a fresh headache began to pound behind his eyes.

"Well, you could come to Lord Raleigh's ball tonight and meet this young woman. Her name is Miss Hunt." The scheming gleam was back in her eyes, and he knew better than to resist.

"Very well. I'll come. But one dance, do you hear? If Miss Hunt proves uninteresting, that should be the end of the matter."

"Of course," she agreed. "Now, what was really going on between you and Avery?"

He tsked and waved a finger at her. "You only get one favor from me today, Mother. I shall not be telling you anything else."

"So be it. But take care, Lawrence. The bonds of brotherhood should be forever. If you mistreat yours, you might lose him."

"The same should be said to him," Lawrence grumbled.

"It will be." She drank the remnants of her tea and then collected her gloves and stood. Lawrence got to his feet and leaned in to kiss his mother's cheek.

"See you this evening. Don't be late."

"Yes, Mother." He escorted her to the door and watched her leave. Only after her coach carried her far away did he rush back upstairs to his chambers with a tray of food.

Zehra was reading again, wearing that awful gown from the brothel. Well, it wasn't awful, but it was far too tempting in all the wrong ways. She needed new clothes fit for a princess, not a lightskirt.

"Zehra, I was planning to have the modiste come here to fit you for gowns, but perhaps you should like to go out, get a bit of fresh air?" he placed the tray on the table and walked over to her.

Zehra's eyes flashed with excitement. "Could we?" She set the novel down and was on her feet in an instant. The smile made his heart swell against his ribs. Was it possible to feel too happy?

"Yes, I thought it might be nice to spend the day out on the town, buy you whatever you need. I'm afraid I've got to go out tonight, but..." At least I could spend the day with you.

"Thank you, my lord." She rushed over to him and curled her arms around his neck. For a moment, he was stunned, unsure what to do or say. It was an innocent embrace, yet it was a wicked temptation to him as well. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. Her hair carried a soft floral scent, and he longed to bury his nose in those silken tresses.

"Why don't you have some breakfast, and then we'll take my coach to Bond Street when you're ready."

Zehra released him and he did the same, hating that he had to let her go. It was so unlike him. He wasn't the sort who clung to women, and he certainly didn't like women hanging on him, but with Zehra, he was discovering his usual preferences were no longer applicable.

She seated herself in the chair by the fire and ate her breakfast. Lawrence intended to join her in the companion chair.

"Was that your brother?"

He froze at her question, his hands holding the book he'd retrieved from the chair before he sat down.

"Er...yes. How did you know?"

She tilted her head. "I was worried when you didn't return. I came down the stairs a little and heard you quarreling...over me." Rather than look embarrassed, she met his gaze with a flinty resolve.

Lawrence knew he had to tell her the truth. "My brother is...well...he is involved in services for His Majesty, and it was he who sent me to the White House. I was not supposed to bid on anyone, only observe. He was to come later with the Bow Street Runners and a magistrate to catch both the slavers and the buyers together."

"And he is angry because you bought me?" Those eyes of hers were haunting, so steady and sure.

"Yes, he's quite furious with me." Lawrence stroked the spine of the novel in his hands. "Our tempers got a tad out of hand."

Zehra made a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"You don't have any siblings, do you?" he asked.

She nibbled on a piece of toast and shook her head. "My mother had a second child, a son, but he died of a fever at six months. He was a beautiful baby, and even though I was only four years old when he passed, I adored him. I still remember his brown eyes, warm and bright like my father's." Her voice became raw with emotion. Lawrence shifted in his chair beside her, amazed at how easily he could sit and talk with her, even of painful things.