by Jen YatesNZ
Wretched, wretched man!
***
Bax found himself reluctant to break up the party and when Holly suggested he partake of a late luncheon with them he gladly accepted. As the meal progressed his sister faded and declared she’d spend the afternoon resting. Selena however, was anxious to go upstairs and write of her exciting day to her mother. As they rose he realized the company of his relatives was not what he’d been enjoying—nor wished to prolong.
‘What do you have planned for your afternoon, Jane,’ he asked, ‘since your chaperonage will not be required?’
‘I shall find a quiet nook in the garden and read,’ she said, a hint of frost in her voice.
Had he pushed her too hard today? Something in him wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave her be. Every woman he’d ever pursued had succumbed with little effort on his part.
Dammit! A country bumpkin like Angular Jane, should be falling into his arms in gratitude, especially a widow who’d gone more than two years without a man in her bed. There were many others waiting for him to cast his notoriously wayward eye in their direction. He’d have to expend no more energy than was required to cock one suggestive eyebrow.
Yet he couldn’t get Jane out of his mind, let alone into his bed. And she’d fled like a frightened virgin when he’d hinted at it.
Never had he encountered such a challenge in female form—and he never turned his back on a challenge!
Inviting himself to share her garden retreat was sure to get him a chilly set-down. Then he thought of his mother.
‘Might I prevail upon you to walk back to Baxendene House with me and look in on Mama? Holly looks as if she needs that rest. Besides which, she probably won’t feel welcome now Mama is well enough to know she’s there.’
‘Would you mind, Jane?’ Holly asked. ‘I really am feeling a bit—done! And Hades is right. Despite Mama’s very proper sentiments as relayed this morning, she will probably not be as pleased to see me as she would be to see you.’
‘I don’t believe that’s true,’ Jane protested, ‘but I’ve been thinking I really would like to look in and see how she’s progressing—and whether she needs anything else to help her get well.’
‘Excellent.’
He smiled broadly at her, satisfaction blooming in his chest even as she lowered her eyes and carefully avoided responding. A half hour later they were ready to set out.
Taking her medicine chest in one hand and offering his other arm, he escorted her down Chesterfield and into Curzon Street, the epitome of the perfect gentleman. From the tight line of her mouth, he knew she desperately wanted to take him to task for his earlier behavior, but he offered her no reason. The frustration must be killing her, was definitely killing him, albeit for a different reason!
***
Every step of the way Jane struggled with desire—in various different forms. There was the desire to simply talk with him, easily, unaffectedly as friends—as they had the night she’d found him in distress at his mother’s bedside. There was the stupid girlish desire to continue walking so she might enjoy his presence, soak up his regard, for she was acutely aware his wicked grey gaze rarely left her face.
Worst was the clamorous desire to know, surrender, to everything his arousing suggestions implied. The man was gifted at sexual charm, manipulation and seduction. She might be naïve, but she wasn’t that bird-witted.
James had loved her. She knew how that felt. However, he’d never set out to seduce her so a subversive part of her brain was strongly suggesting she didn’t really know about the love of a man. Or was it she didn’t know about desire and lust? Both were different from love.
She had no experience of making love to a man, let alone one as well put together and obviously virile as Lord Baxendene.
Used to bedding experienced women, he’d likely find her innocent—and boring—in the extreme.
She’d certainly be fooling herself if she thought she could satisfy a man of his rakish reputation. Humiliated wouldn’t begin to describe how she’d feel if she succumbed to his blandishments only to be found hopelessly wanting.
Best she stayed in her role as Lady of the Manor, a role James had patiently groomed her for, and not imagine she had it in her to play those other female roles Lord Baxendene no doubt preferred.
She was a vicar’s daughter after all.
As they walked he discoursed on Selena’s prospects and his amazement at her self-possession considering this was her first visit to the capital. Thankfully her vague responses appeared to satisfy him and he handed her over to his butler as they entered the house.
Her relief was a little premature however, as he called from the foot of the stairs, halting her in mid-flight.
‘I’ll come take tea with you and Mama in about half an hour.’
The throaty tone of his voice made her stomp her foot on the next tread, even as she nodded her head. She could scarcely refuse him in his own house, or with his own mother!
Or in the presence of his butler.
She would engineer a private audience with him and insist he cease and desist. He wasn’t going to succeed with her. She wouldn’t allow it.
***
Lady Baxendene greeted her with a warm smile.
‘I sincerely thank you for all you did for me. Ash—I—understand I have you to thank for pulling me through.’
Translation: Ashdown was not to be mentioned. Jane smiled reassuringly down at her.
‘I had a competent assistant.’ Two spots of color appeared on Lady Baxendene’s pale cheeks. ‘And I’m glad I happened to arrive in time to make a difference. Lord Baxendene will be up in half an hour to take tea with you. I think you gave him a fright!’
‘I gave myself a fright,’ Lady Baxendene admitted, her voice a little stronger. ‘Lowry? Can you do anything to make me presentable for tea with my son?’
With Jane helping, Lowry swiftly removed the bed-gown, gave her mistress a quick sponge down, dressed her in a pretty silk night rail and draped a soft mint green pashmina round her shoulders. Then the old woman deftly brushed out her hair and tied it loosely with a ribbon over one shoulder.
They were still puffing the pillows at her back when Lord Baxendene arrived followed by two maids with trays containing the makings of tea for three and plates of Cook’s special molasses cookies and iced currant buns. As soon as the trays were set on a trolley table his Lordship dismissed the maids and took charge.
‘We’ll help ourselves thanks, Lowry,’ he said, and the elderly woman almost crossed her eyes at him in skepticism. Jane was reminded Lowry had been attending Lady Baxendene since before her marriage so she’d certainly have little awe of his august presence!
When she didn’t budge he mirrored her expression back to her and asked, ‘Good God, Lowry! Surely you don’t doubt Lady Rotherby’s ability to pour tea? And contrary to popular belief, I could manage to pour it myself! Saints alive, do I look helpless?’
His mock injured tone and comical expression brought a rare smile to the dour old woman’s face and she flapped a gnarled hand at him and left the room.
Jane couldn’t withhold a snort of derision.
‘I’m sure you’ve made a science of convincing the fairer sex of exactly that!’
‘She has your measure, my son,’ Lady Baxendene murmured, her sick eyes almost smiling.
Telling herself to think before opening her mouth, Jane busied herself at the tea trolley. She was dealing with ‘Bax the Axe’ here, not some polite, tonnish gentleman who’d let such comments go unchallenged. She’d not imagined the gleam in his eyes promising retribution.
Then the huge lummox leant forward to drop a kiss on his mother’s forehead and Jane felt something inside her twist and dissolve at the love shining in Lady Baxendene’s eyes.
From what he’d revealed to her the other night, Jane guessed it had been a long time since they’d shared such a tender moment. A self-conscious, boyish look sat oddly on his strong, masculine features as he smiled at his
mother, while tears glistened in her eyes.
‘You do realize,’ he said to her while motioning his head towards Jane, ‘you’d not be here if it weren’t for Lady Rotherby?’ His expression solemn, he wrapped his mother’s hand between his large ones. ‘I owe her more than I can ever repay for restoring you to me—so I can beg your forgiveness for being an ass all those years—and so I can tell you I do love you, Mama.’
Jane wanted to dissolve into a ball of mush and returned the cup of tea she was holding to the trolley for a moment. She was probably going to have to wipe her eyes! The blasted man was all any woman could ask for in a son.
But though Lady Baxendene had been sick unto death, she’d not lost sight of her primary goal with regards that son, it seemed.
‘Does this mean then, you’ll give some serious thought to marrying and setting up your nursery? Meeting your obligations with regards the title?’
Her voice may have been weak, but Jane could hear the steely determination behind the words. How would Hades handle this? Doubtless, in the past they’d had some spectacular rows.
He turned his mother’s hand over and stroked the back of it—as if he was indeed considering her request. Then he raised a comical brow at her and said gently, ‘Nothing has changed, Mama. Jason’s son will inherit, as I’ve always told you.’
Lady Baxendene’s calm crumpled.
‘But we never see Jason’s boys!’ she wailed. ‘That woman—’
‘Don’t upset yourself, Mama. She can’t prevent young Maurice from inheriting. It’s the law.—Jane has your tea. Shall I help you?’
With a dash of her hands at her leaky eyes, she said, ‘I can manage!’
Bax took the cup and saucer from Jane and helped settle it for his mother then sat back.
‘Just concentrate on getting well,’ he advised.
They talked of the morning’s expedition to the modiste, their hopes for Selena’s future and the fact it wanted only a week to her come-out ball, which was being held at Baxendene House since the reception rooms were larger than in the Brisco establishment.
‘You were so looking forward to this night, Mama—’
‘I will be there!’ his mother rasped, ‘if I have to attend in a Bath chair!’
Bax grinned wickedly down at her.
‘And I’ll really enjoy pushing you around in it. For once I’ll have control.’
‘Ha! Do you think so?’ Lady Baxendene growled, though her voice was a mere croak.
Time to intervene, Jane decided.
‘I believe Holly has invited some friends to dinner this evening with daughters the same age as Selena so she’ll at least know someone before the ball.’
Hades leant back in his chair, the ‘tender son’ persona obliterated by the return of the prowling rake.
‘Please inform my sister I’ll be there.’
Jane glared at him. She couldn’t help it.
He simply held her gaze, boldly innocent. If anyone could pull off such a dichotomy of expressions, Hell-bent Hades could!
Seemingly unaware of the currents flowing between her son and Jane, Lady Baxendene smiled adoringly at him and observed, ‘Celia will be so grateful if you show the ton Selena is under your eye, Haden. It’ll keep the young bucks in line. For though her portion is not a fortune, she is a beautiful young woman bound to attract attention.’
Bax smiled grimly back at his mother.
‘They’ll have to come through me to get to her!’
Lady Baxendene smiled with sleepy satisfaction and handed her cup to him.
‘Good. Now go and let me sleep,’ she murmured, closing her eyes.
***
As they reached the foot of the stairs, Jane said stiffly, ‘Might I have a private word?’
Stepping off the last stair he turned to face her, poised almost level with him, on the tread above.
His eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted in wry amusement.
‘I warn you, I don’t take petticoat lectures with any gentlemanly grace.’
Jane compressed her lips and bit her tongue, sailing past him and along the hall to the library. She knew she wasn’t being presumptuous. He could have no interest in dining with a gaggle of naïve young women whose sole purpose for the season was attracting a suitable—preferably well-heeled and titled—husband.
And Holly had frequently bewailed the fact she rarely saw her brother, despite his living practically around the corner from her. His only purpose was to tease, torment and wear her down so he could add yet another foolish innocent to his list of conquests.
‘What are you doing?’ she all but spat at him as he followed her into the room.
She turned on the priceless Aubusson carpet in the center of the room, aware he saw right through her defensive pose.
‘About what?’
He perched a hip on the corner of the large walnut reading table, one booted foot swinging.
‘Why would you want to come to dinner with a bevy of husband hunting misses and their scheming mamas?’
He cocked his head at her—and waited, the light in his grey eyes belying any hint of the innocence he’d affected earlier. Devilment was more his style.
‘Unless—,’ she stumbled then regrouped. Damn him! ‘Unless you are looking for a wife!’
Why couldn’t she manage to ask that without blushing like a school girl?—His unrestrained laughter only made the heat in her cheeks burn more.
‘It’ll never happen,’ he drawled. ‘The only searching I’m likely to undertake has nothing to do with marriage. You heard me tell Mama that. And I’d scarcely be risking my neck searching amongst such wide-eyed babies! With their parents in attendance!’
Considering his blatant declaration, Jane swelled further with ire—and the shameless scapegrace leant against the desk, grinning knowingly as she reached the correct interpretation of what he’d said.
Almost at the point of exploding with righteous indignation for the unknown—and unsuspecting—women who fell for his wicked blandishments, she remained rigid as he strode across to cup her face in his huge hands. As if his touch had vitrified her where she stood, she stared up into his oddly serious eyes.
‘You know,’ his gaze searched hers, dropped to her lips that were parted to ease her breathing, ‘I’ve never made love to a woman I call ‘friend’; a woman with whom I can bare my soul and whom I’ve trusted with my secrets; whom I’d trust with my life. I find myself seriously enamored of the idea. You’re a widow, not an innocent.’
Jane felt her eyes widen, and she swallowed desperately, but a response was beyond her.
‘We would be discreet,’ he murmured, eyeing her mouth again as if deciding where to start nibbling on it. ‘Give each other a lot of pleasure.’
His mouth quirked and suddenly she found herself wishing he’d start with the nibbling, maybe progress to devouring—
‘Just because neither of us desires marriage doesn’t mean we have to deny ourselves—’
His head lowered and though she knew she should move, duck, something, she waited as immobile as an ice sculpture while his sensual lips moved in a leisurely glide over hers.
Lord, she was as wide-eyed and breathless as any virgin. She was a virgin, dammit! The thought snapped her backwards out of his grasp.
‘You—we—won’t be doing anything of the sort! And if you insist on coming to the Briscos to dinner, it’ll appear—as if—’ What could she say to put him off? Taking another step back, she blurted, ‘—as if you can’t stay away!’
As soon as the words were spoken she recognized them for the challenge he’d undoubtedly decide they were. Why couldn’t she guard her mouth around him?
‘But—I—can’t,’ he purred, following her across the carpet.
She’d not retreat any further. He would understand she’d not be toyed with.
‘That is ridiculous.’
He halted when they were barely a foot apart, eyes locked.
‘Ridiculous? The Great Bax would never
be considered ridiculous,’ he said throatily and with certainty, thereby implying he might be called other things.
He was so blatant, unapologetic, confident—things she could never be—and for some odd reason suddenly wished she was.
Greater confidence at least would be welcome at this point. While she helplessly admired his elegant insouciance, he closed the gap between them and wrapped his strong arms about her shoulders. And then his mouth claimed hers and insou-blat-iance—unapolget—whatever she was trying to think, had no meaning at all.
‘Mine, Angular Jane. You will be mine,’ he murmured against her lips then slid his tongue into her mouth in a wicked parody of what she knew he was intending to do to her body.
Oh God. She might be untutored, but she was not ignorant of what transpired between men and women in normal marriages; between men and their mistresses.
And she was stronger than this! Wrenching herself from his arms, she sidestepped with the agility of desperation and stormed towards the door.
He was there before her, calling for the footman to see her home—again.
‘See you tonight, Lady Rotherby,’ he called after her in a voice as calm as if they’d been engaged in a discussion of the weather and—with a warmly caressing undertone that told her he was smiling
***
The portly footman was going to resign his position if his master didn’t stop offending her virginal sensibilities, she thought, as she stormed from Baxendene House once again. The poor man had to run to keep up while carrying her heavy medicine chest. Lord, she wanted nothing more than to race upstairs and hide in her room to castigate herself for being a ninny!
For she knew—she knew—any woman who allowed herself to be fooled into Hades Delacourte’s arms was a ninny, pure and simple!
He could unsettle her so easily—and he knew he could. He made her feel young and beautiful—and reckless! Her, Angular Jane Bracewell. Pshaw! What was wrong with her? She’d never felt reckless in her life. Certainly not in the way he made her feel.
His lips, oh God, his mouth, devouring hers and the wild, wanton, heated feelings that had coursed through her body! Her cheeks were burning again just thinking about it as she fled up the steps into Brisco House.
