She was wet, and Ian lapped up every drop. Ian tortured her for a long time, drinking her until she couldn’t contain her cries any longer. Beth felt her hips gyrating, her hands locking around her skirts. A sob bunt from her, feminine joy that had been denied her for so long. Tears rained down her face.
Ian drew back and looked up, his eyes burning her. She felt herself falling, but Ian caught her and pulled her to his lap, safe in his strong arms. “Did I hurt you?” Beth buried her face in his fine-smelling shoulder. “No. It was wonderful.”
“You’re crying.”
Beth lifted her head. “Because I never thought I’d feel such bliss again.” She put her hand on his cheek, tried to turn his gaze to her, but she couldn’t make him look at her. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, and then his feral smile returned.
“Would you like to feel such bliss again?” Beth pressed her lips together, but her smile wouldn’t be contained. “Yes, please,” she said.
Ian eased her onto the chair, then slid to his knees in front of her. He pushed her legs open, then leaned down and showed her that he’d done only half of what he could do with his gifted mouth.
“Now, where did you get to, darling?” Isabella pulled Beth with her through a whirl of bright skirts in the ballroom. “You have a look in your eye. What have you been doing?”
Her tone was disapproving.
Beth caught sight of Ian in the marble-lined foyer outside the ballroom and felt her cheeks flush. Isabella saw her look and gasped in delight.
“You were kissing, Ian, weren’t you? My darling, how wonderful.”
Beth didn’t answer. If she spoke, she might burn up from the inside out. Is this me, Beth Ackerley? Dressed in satin and glittering with diamonds, having a wicked affair with the most decadent man in Paris?
She thought of her hungry days of childhood, of grime-filled streets and thin children, of drunken men, of women desperate and exhausted. She’d never dreamed her life could change so dramatically.
Ian paused to speak to another gentleman, then turned away with him, walking back through the darkened hall. Of course he wouldn’t enter the ballroom. He hated crowds.
Beth swallowed her pang of disappointment. She couldn’t expect him to dance attendance. Or was it part of what he’d told her, that he couldn’t engage his heart? More fool Beth. She kept up lighthearted chatter with Isabella and her friends, but her attention kept straying to the outer hall. Ian never reappeared.
Fog was gathering as Beth and Isabella left the house much later. As they crossed the small space of pavement to Isabella’s waiting carriage, Beth saw a man in the shadow between lampposts. He moved away when he caught her gaze, and the lamplight briefly shone on his thick, luxuriant mustache.
“Mrs. Ackerley.”
Beth turned sharply the next morning on her walk through the Tuileries Gardens. The burned-out remains of the Tuileries Palace loomed across the park, a reminder of violence in this beautiful place.
Katie walked next to her, surly because Beth had insisted on coming out early after such a late night. Isabella remained in bed, fast asleep, but Beth felt energetic and restless. “Fashionable ladies never rise before noon,” Katie growled under her breath. “I thought now we were fashionable, too.” “Hush, Katie,” Beth said. She bade Katie walk ahead and waited for the tall man in black to catch up to her. “Well?” she asked when Katie was out of earshot “I know you’ve been following me about, Inspector. Please tell me why.”
“Just doing my duty.”
The wind blew in from the river, bringing with it the musty stench of water and the sound of bells from Notre Dame.
“Does Scotland Yard know you’re in Paris?” she asked.
“Looking into murders that you’ve been forbidden to investigate?”
“I took a leave of absence. I’m in Paris on holiday.”
“Then I take it you will not be making any arrests.” Fellows shook his head, his hazel eyes hard. “If I feel there’s reason to arrest anyone, I’ll go through the proper channels. I’ll inform the Surete and assist them any way” I can.” Beth gave him a cold look. “I’ve already told you that I’ll not spy on my friends.”
“I’ve not come to renew that suggestion.”
“Because you know it is useless?”
“Because I realize you have integrity, Mrs. Ackerley. Surprising, considering your background.”
“You’ve made your point. My mother was gently bred, despite her unfortunate marriage, please remember.” “Yes, I’ve made inquiries and found one country squire from Surrey called Hilton Yardley. Very respectable, very English. Died of grief when his daughter married a frog of dubious origins.”
“No, he died of a liver complaint four years later,” Beth said. “You will no doubt say it was brought on by the shock of his daughter marrying my father.”
“No doubt,” Fellows answered dryly.
Beth turned and walked away at a pointedly brisk stride, but Fellows easily kept pace with her. “I approached you about a different matter, Mrs. Ackerley.”
“I have no interest, Inspector.”
“You will.”
Beth halted so abruptly that her skirts swung. She held her parasol firmly and bathed him in a glare. “Very well, what is it?”
He looked her up and down, his hazel gaze raking her in a most insulting manner. His mustache twitched. “Mrs. Ackerley, I want you to marry me.”