London Lace, #2 Read online

  They pushed forward to the lower railing. Todd slipped his hand around her shoulder and drew her close. Though he was still completely focused on the horses rounding the bend and driving to the finish line, his arm had slipped so automatically around her, so protectively and possessively. She fit perfectly under his arm; she felt as if she belonged there.

  The horses barreled to the finish line to a cacophony of cheers and clapping. Dante’s Fire took second place. Todd was thrilled.

  The jockeys rode the horses for a cool down before passing quite close to where Eliza was standing. She could see the lather around the horses’ bits, the slick sheen on their haunches, their muddied hooves and shanks.

  Clusters of people were now moving and gathering into social pockets to chat and compare race highlights before the next race started. Todd waved at a few people nearby. One fellow walked over and shook his hand.

  “Haven’t see you around lately, mate.”

  “Andrew, good to see you again,” said Todd. “Been down in the country doing the real work. The kind that makes this stuff possible.”

  “One of yours here today?”

  “Came in second in that race, I’m proud to say. Dante’s Fire.”

  “Ah, he’s your baby? Or was?”

  “Right. Belongs to Harvey Selfridge now.”

  “Well, I’ll keep an eye on him,” said Adrew. His gaze flicked to Eliza.

  Todd caught the look. “Where are my manners? Andrew Wakefield, Eliza Keating.”

  “Pleasure,” said Eliza offering her hand and smiling.

  Andrew took it. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

  A well-dressed couple approached their small group. The woman wore a peacock-feather-festooned fascinator clipped to her stiffly-coiffed do. Much smaller than a hat, and needing a clip to secure it to the wearer's head, fascinators could be dramatic and eye-catching, like this one, or elegant and subdued for less festive but still formal events. Eliza had created many of both types. This woman leaned toward the dramtic. The fellow she was with wore a dark brown suit with a turquoise silk tie, which matched the iridescent glow of the peacock feather’s eye but also reminded Eliza of her silk robe at home and the fun she’d had in it last night. She shifted from one foot to the other as a warm surge pulsed between her legs, but her own skin rubbing against itself did nothing to cool the flare. She tucked herself more tightly under Todd’s arm.

  “Todd Montgomery, it’s been months.” The woman held out a gloved hand and Todd had no choice but to take it. He lifted it delicately to his lips but only brushed the air around her knuckles.

  “Lady Elliot, enchanting as usual.”

  She giggled. “Jocelyn, darling. I thought we dispensed with formalities eons ago.” She gave him a suggestive look. Todd turned his attention to her husband.

  “How are you, Peter?”

  “Very well, Todd. And you?”

  “Let me introduce my friend, Eliza Keating.”

  Friend? She didn’t know what she was to Todd but she didn’t think it was ‘friend’.

  “How do you do?” said Eliza, nodding to the Elliots.

  “And you know Andrew.”

  “Quite well,” said Peter. “I saw Golden Boy in this morning’s race. He’s coming along nicely.”

  “Thank you,” said Andrew. He and Peter chatted about some of the other horses.

  Jocelyn took a step toward Todd but kept her eyes on Eliza. “I haven’t seen you step out with anyone in months. It’s nice to see you’re still warm-blooded.”

  “I don’t often like to be distracted from my work, you know that. Miss Keating has been a delightful surprise.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Are you the milliner Eliza Keating?”

  She said milliner with a somewhat condescending emphasis that Eliza chose to ignore. Todd flexed his arm over her shoulders so she could feel his support, which she appreciated but didn’t really need. She often had to deal with snobs like Lady Elliot at work.

  “I am. That’s a lovely fascinator, by the way. It really stands out.”

  Lady Elliot swept a hand lightly over one of the protruding feathers. “It’s a Dale Huckabee, of course you’ve heard of him?”

  Eliza laughed lightly. “Who hasn’t?”

  Dale was an ex-pat Brit who’d recently moved to New York City with an aim to steal the hat scene there. His audacity to ‘take Manhattan’ was a delight to Londoners, and at home at least, his reputation was soaring.

  “You must excuse us, “ said Todd. “I need to introduce Eliza to Dante’s Fire as well.”

  Jocelyn looked at him oddly and then smiled as if to polish away any insult that may or may not have been meant by the remark.

  “Ta ta then, until next time. Good to meet you, Miss Keating.”

  Eliza nodded. “Lady Elliot.”

  “Cheerio, Andrew and Peter.” Todd waved and so did they.

  Todd slid his shoulder from Eliza’s and grabbed her hand as they walked. His face held its stiff smile until they were well out of the viewing area. Then he sighed, let his shoulders sag, and turned to her with an apologetic half smile.

  “Sorry about that. I like to come to see the horses, but I can’t seem to avoid the people. Peter’s all right. But Jocelyn…” He shook his head.

  “She’s like a lot of my clients actually. Well, some of them.” Most of them were nicer, to be honest. “Did you and she ever…?” The way she had talked to him, the suggestive looks, the way she’d looked almost but not quite envious of Eliza.

  Todd led her through a set of doors that said Private Access Only. He gripped her hand as they walked down the corridor. “Please, I’d really rather not talk about that now.”

  “Oh? Does her husband know?” Eliza’s jaw had tensed. Though Todd held her hand tight, her own grasp slackened.

  He stopped and turned to her, his blue eyes intense. “Listen, it’s not what you think. There’s a complex history there. I just don’t want to go into it now. Can you forgive me?”

  “For not going into it or for having a ‘complex history’ with that woman?”

  He sighed. “Both, I guess. Look we’re here together. Now. I want to show you something that I enjoy, something meaningful, and it has nothing to do with those people. Can we talk about them later and just enjoy being here now? Together?”

  His look was hopeful, attentive, and perhaps something in her expression softened because his eyes took on that darkly sexy look all of a sudden and he leaned in close to her. “There is nowhere I’d rather be and no one I’d rather be with, Miss Eliza Keating.”

  “Why should I believe you, Sir?”

  He frowned, his eyes looked fierce for a second, and then his mouth was on hers, his lips soft but sure as he slid around, mapping her oral erogenous zones and causing surges of pleasure to radiate out to other parts of her body. She responded to his flavor with a deep primal hunger, which triggered something in him; he pushed her against the wall and let his hands roam wildly down her shoulders, across her breasts, to her waist, thighs, and buttocks. He pressed his upper body into hers against the wall and pulled her hips toward him, so that his hands could caress and squeeze her buttocks. His hands slid up and down, circled, and then seemed to be searching. He pulled back from the lip lock, a question in his half-lidded desire-drunk eyes. She smiled coquettishly, shook her head ever so slightly. He smiled then, stifled a groan, and then his hand slid across her ass, found its way to the edge of her skirt and under it in a flash. His fingers slid between her wet, swollen folds and she gasped, the sudden touch sending electric tingles down her legs. His mouth was on her neck as he explored under her skirt.

  He whispered, “I could have taken you on the bridge.”

  “You wouldn’t have.”

  “If I had known how easy you would have been to penetrate you, Miss Keating…” At the word penetrate his finger drove into her, making her fearfully weak in the knees and crazy with desire at the same time.

  He was still whispering. “… I
really don’t think I could have stopped myself.”

  Eliza heard the sound of clicking heels in the distance.

  “I think you’ll have to stop yourself now.”

  He cocked his ear. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  She tried to move away but he had her pinned. “Todd! Someone’s coming.” The someone was just around the corner. She wriggled.

  “Just be still,” he said. He moved to her side. “Face me,” he said. His right side and her left leaned toward the wall as they faced each other. The lifted-up side of her skirt was obscured by his jacket and left hip. He pretended to be in the midst of a serious conversation with her, while his finger was still snug inside her pussy. A uniformed racetrack employee approached them. Todd smiled and shook his head. Eliza felt dizzy and somewhat stunned. She nodded at Todd’s words but she really wasn’t hearing.

  “Are you supposed to be here?” said the employee coming up behind Todd.

  “Yes, we are.” Todd turned his face slightly.

  “Oh, Sir Montgomery. I didn’t realize it was you.” The employee passed with a smile and a half salute. “I’ll let the jockeys know you’re on your way.” He nodded at Eliza, who must have had very flushed cheeks by now. “Ma’am.” He kept on clicking down the hallway away from them.

  “Now where were we?” said Todd. His finger moved deeper now.

  “I –” Eliza started to speak but elusive words turned into a gasp as Todd’s fingers swirled inside her again. In and out, around and around. She was wetter than before. The risk, the danger, had made her even more ready. She had no idea, it was as if her mind, which feared being caught, was disconnected from her body, which was utterly turned on by the near exposure. She moaned, surrendering to the pleasure of Todd’s deft maneuvers. She felt a climax building, and then his thumb slid against her swollen clit. She cried out, pressed herself down against his hand.

  He chuckled. “You like that?’’

  “Mmmm…hmmm…,” she whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

  His erection was hard against her thigh, she reached for it, rubbed it from the outside of his trousers. He moaned quietly, and murmured, “Oh, Lizzie…”

  No one had called her Lizzie since she had moved to London. It reminded her of home, which was not good, but Todd’s voice made it sound different. Him saying her name broke something in her, and an ache arose. She swallowed hard against the emotion. She grabbed him tighter, bucked against his hand, desperate to come, to be lifted into the oblivion of orgasm. She closed her eyes tight. He cupped her folds, his middle finger deep inside, his thumb in just the right place on her clit, and she rocked against him as the waves of deep bliss wrapped around her, washed her in beauty, in serene perfection, in the intangible wholeness of this present moment.

  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. She relied on him, and the support of the wall, to hold her upright. Her knees felt like jelly. He gently removed his finger, setting off a few small spasms that made her wobble. He kissed her neck, her cheek, and then tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes. Her hat was askew from being pushed into the wall and then lean leaning into his shoulder. She had tears in her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” His look and voice were full of tenderness.

  “I don’t think I want you to call me Lizzie.”

  “Is that what did it? Your pleasure sounded lovely. You are a lovely Lizzie.”

  One tear slid down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away. She did not want to be this vulnerable around him. He kissed the spot where the tear had been.

  He said, “Did I get something wrong? Did it not feel good?”

  She swallowed hard. “It was beautiful, and painful. Emotional pain, not physical. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He kissed her full on the lips and then helped her stand up straight. “Beauty and pain are real. Together they show us we are alive. You are beautiful, Eliza. Eventually, your pain will heal.”

  “How did you get so philosophical?” She rearranged her skirt and re-aligned her hat.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Experiences of beauty and pain, how else?” He grinned and hugged her. He still had a pretty hard erection.

  She gently skimmed her fingers along it. “I’m sorry about that. I wanted you—“

  He hushed her. “Nothing to be sorry about. We’ll have time for more later.” He winked.

  “But I shouldn’t have... the tears.” She wiped away any smudge lines under her eyes. She felt so stupid.

  “It’s all right, Eliza. I’m glad to know you’re real. When I first saw you I wondered if you might be a dream… And that if I woke up you’d disappear. Now I know you’re my waking dream.” He kissed her again.

  Eliza was beginning to wonder if Todd were real. Who was this man? Regardless of his past with Jocelyn Elliot, she was utterly smitten. Maybe more than smitten … She pushed the ‘more’ out her mind. One step at a time, one step at a time, she was bound to find a pothole or two on this unexpected journey.

  She put on her happy face, hoping her eyes weren’t red and puffed. It had only been a tear or two, not a full out sob—she could do that later, alone, at home.

  She said, “Let’s go meet this Dante’s Fire, shall we?”

  He smiled and guided her along the corridor to the far end. He held her right hand with his left and then he casually drew his right fingers across his upper lip and under his nose. “Mmmm. Your scent drives me wild.”

  Again, she thought, Who is this man? Todd made her feel wild and free, and the feeling was both exhilarating and frightening.

  MEET YOU IN THE STABLES

  At the end of the corridor, around another corner, they came to a door marked Fire Exit and Authorized Access Only. Beyond it was a covered outdoor area wide enough for several lanes of big trailers to back into.

  “This way,” said Todd.

  He led her under this cover back in the direction of the race oval, but before they’d reached the edge of the building, with the fence and oval another hundred feet beyond that, that turned into a passage that was door-less on both ends and wide enough for a horse and person to walk through together. Making another turn, away from the oval this time, they walked alongside another building that Eliza guessed was the stable. She could hear horses whickering close by.

  The stables faced away from the oval and onto a green space and two training paddocks. It was mostly open on one side and deep enough for four lengths of generously-sized stalls with a wide aisle running through.

  As they entered the stall area, Todd said hello to several jockeys who were rubbing down their mounts.

  “How many horses can they fit in here?”

  “There’s over a hundred stalls, I think. Dante should be in stall twenty-four.”

  “Jimmy’s gone to the locker room for a minute,” said a blue-capped rider standing in stall twenty. He pointed to the far end of the stables where a door led to yet another building.

  “Hey, Billy.” Todd waved. “We’ll wait for him at the stall.”

  The stables weren’t as populated as Eliza thought they’d be. In addition to the jockeys, only a few handlers and trainers were still doing rub and brush downs.

  “Why are so many of the stalls empty?” Not empty exactly, but unoccupied.

  “Ten to fifteen are prepping for the next race. Some are parading. Others will arrive later.”

  Horses and people were coming and going, yet there was a calmness in the stables that was missing in the viewing area. Was it the presence of the horses? The grounded nature of the people caring for them? The absence of socialites? Was this what Todd preferred to his family and society in general? He had relaxed somewhat since entering the stables, and his smile looked sincere and good-natured.

  “That’s Electric Blue. Andrew, who you just met, trains that beautiful beast,along with Golden Boy.”

  Eliza nodded and followed Todd further along the aisle. The horse stalls were semi-enclosed. Screens could be slid in place to give the horses almo
st complete privacy, but most were open, allowing the horses to peek out. Some were curious as Eliza and Todd passed. Others kept to themselves, munching hay and oats.

  The ground was littered with hay. Eliza was glad she wore her boots, not that she was prepared to step in mud or manure with them. Ah well, she thought, if I have to give up a pair of boots to keep up with Todd’s passions, so be it.

  “There’s my boy,” said Todd quickening his step.

  A dark chestnut muzzle poked out of a stall window in response to Todd’s voice. Eliza heard a happy whickering. Todd caressed Dante’s long nose and rubbed him between the eyes. The horse closed his big brown eyes and shook his head side to side. Eliza smiled to see them together. For a moment, she didn’t exist, as Todd communed with his animal friend, and then Todd turned to her. “Come closer. He’s gentle.”

  Eliza stepped forward tentatively. Dante pulled his head back to assess her.

  “There, there, mate. I want you to meet my girl.”

  Eliza raised her eyebrow. She was Todd’s girl now? First ‘friend’, now ‘girl’. As long as he didn’t call her his filly she decided not to complain.

  She stretched out her fingers and stroked Dante above his nostrils. He was a tall one. She wouldn’t be able to touch his forehead unless he bent toward her.

  “He’s gorgeous, Todd. He really is.”

  Todd nodded and sighed. “Inside and out. We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we, mate? He had a tricky birth, took some time to get strong, and then turned into this massive powerhouse you see standing before you. He could be a winner one day. I’d bet on it.”

  “Except you don’t gamble.”

  “Right. But if I did, I’d bet on this guy. Wouldn’t I, buddy?” He rubbed Dante’s neck affectionately.

  “Hey, hands off that horse!”

  Eliza whipped around. What had they done wrong? Todd’s smile broadened when he saw the grinning jockey strutting toward him.

  “Jimmy! Come on now, second? You are one lazy arse, I must say.” They hug-back-slapped each other. Todd looked huge next to Jimmy, who was even shorter than Eliza. He had a crooked nose, dark laughing eyes, and thin grinning lips.