A Season of Seduction

by Jennifer Haymore

  “Years’ worth of climbing the rigging on the Gloriana.” He latched the window and turned to her. Removing his hat, he tossed it on her peach-striped armchair. He’d never been inside her bedchamber before, but he didn’t take any time to study the interior of the room. He kept his focus on her and her alone.

  His gaze made a languorous journey over her body, leaving a pleasurable, prickling trail in its wake. “God—” His voice cracked, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  He reached out to her at the same moment she reached for him. His hand, cool from the outside air, hooked around her neck. His other arm banded around her lower back, drawing her tightly against him.

  “I can’t stand to be apart from you,” he said, the warmth of his breath whispering over her earlobe. “Yesterday, in the drawing room. God. I can’t tell you how… I hate nothing more than the sight of you walking away from me. I never want you to walk away from me. I want you with me. Always.”

  The edge of vulnerability in his tone sent a shudder through her, and with all her heart, she hoped she’d never have to walk away from him again. “I hate it, too.” She stroked her fingers through the cooled strands of his hair. “I hate being separated from you.”

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  His lips warmed a path from her ear to her lips, a soft nuzzle that bloomed into a possessive kiss. Holding her locked against him with one arm, his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, he pressed her closer as he took her mouth. She slipped her arms around him, hooked her calf over his leg, rubbed her body wantonly against him. His clothes and skin were cold, but she didn’t care. She struggled with his trousers as he hitched her nightdress over her hip, his fingers grazing her thigh.

  “I need you, Becky. So much.”

  She released him just long enough to toss her nightdress away, then went back to working his falls while he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

  “Ah,” she gasped when she finally pressed the bare skin of her chest against his. “You’re frozen.”

  “Not for long.”

  She released his falls and his trousers fell, followed by his drawers. He kicked them off, along with his shoes and stockings, and lifted her in his arms, keeping her chest pressed against his. Lord, he was so strong. He didn’t even seem to notice that he supported all her weight.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him again. Oh, he was warming, and rapidly. And he tasted so good. So salty, so manly. So much like Jack.

  He was walking, she realized distractedly as she nipped his lower lip. And then she felt the coolness of the wallpaper against her back.

  Making a quick adjustment, he pushed her over him, entering her in a deep thrust. She gasped. He buried his face in her neck.

  Overwhelmed with sensation, she could only hold on to him, grip him for all she was worth. He pushed deeper into her, pinning her against the wall. And then he drove into her body again and again, his movements frantic and urgent. Becky closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to his shoulder, and held on, emotion, lust, and power surging through her, mingling with her growing affection for this man. Her love for him.

  “I need you,” he whispered against her neck, pushing himself deep, so deep. She felt full, whole, complete. Unable to control her passion, she ground herself over him even as he moved inside of her.

  She threaded her fingers into his hair as desire swirled within her, so forceful she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sobbing with each of his thrusts, with each bright streaming surge of pleasure flaring deep inside.

  Her fingers and legs tightened over him while his movements grew stronger, more urgent. The quiet rasp ofhis breath filled the room.

  Becky gritted her teeth so she didn’t cry out and wake the whole house, but her lips parted as the pleasure built even higher. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body vibrated under his onslaught.

  And then she came apart. The ribbons of pleasure burst into colorful flames that spread like a fast-burning fuse throughout her limbs and to her extremities. Her toes curled. Her nails bit into his neck. Holding on to Jack for dear life, she closed her teeth over his shoulder to bury her scream in his flesh. The orgasm shuddered through her, overtaking every one of her senses with spasms of rapture.

  As she drifted down, she realized Jack had reached his pinnacle as well, for he held himself rigid except for the subtle contractions as he released the last of his seed deep inside her.

  Holding him tight, she smoothed her fingertips over the places on his neck where her nails had dug into hisskin seconds ago. She feathered her lips over the bitemarks on his shoulder and gave a deep sigh of contentment.

  Jack released her gently, allowing her slight body to slide down his. She kept her hands linked around his neck and stared up at him, her eyes shining.

  “Did I hurt you?” she whispered.

  Jack gave her a lopsided smile and shook his head. It had hurt when she’d bitten his shoulder, but it had also sent a jolt of pleasure through him so powerful that he’d lost his ability to do anything but yield to the most powerful orgasm of his life.

  He pulled her against him. He took such surprising comfort from the feel of her skin pressed against his. “I like it when you bite.”

  Her brows peaked. “Do you?”

  “Mmm.” He bent toward her, close enough to kiss, and their breaths danced between them as they shared a chuckle. Her fingertips pressed over the small stinging area on the back of his neck, and she sobered.

  “I believe I might have drawn blood, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

  He released her quickly enough to pass his hand over the area before taking her up in his arms again.

  “I couldn’t… I wasn’t thinking…”

  “I wasn’t thinking either,” he murmured. “Yet for some reason I cannot regret taking you up against the wall like a barbarian.” He soothed his fingertips over her temple. “I believe you enjoyed it.”

  He could feel the shudder racing through her as her luxurious, dark-fringed blue eyes blinked at him. “I… did,” she breathed. “Does that make me a barbarian?”

  He laughed. “Yes. It also makes me a fortunate man. Doubly fortunate,” he added, recalling how she’d taken him into her mouth yesterday morning. His wayward cock, only recently satisfied, jerked with renewed interest at the memory.

  “I like very much that I can make you feel… doubly fortunate.”

  He stilled, momentarily unable to breathe. That this beautiful woman enjoyed bringing him such pleasure—it was more than he could ever have hoped for.

  It was more than he deserved.

  For the last several days he’d focused only on Becky. On winning her, and on keeping her. On falling in love with her. He tried wholeheartedly to ignore the ignominious nature of his original intentions, but they kept coming back to haunt him. The fact that he’d pursued her with such ardor—it was true that there had been more than just her money that lured him, for from the start he’d felt something deeper for her. Yet the source of his immediate and unwavering attention had been her fortune.

  And then he’d tricked her… arranged their discovery…

  God, he was low.

  “Becky.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. Guilt surged through him, overwhelmed him. How would she ever forgive him? How could he forgive himself? And now he was stuck in the quicksand of his lies and sinking deeper by the day. He couldn’t tell her, because if he did, he’d destroy her, destroy them both. But if he didn’t tell her, he’d be living a lie. The secret had begun to eat away at his gut.

  He didn’t care about the money anymore. He didn’t care about Tom Wortingham and his damn demands. He cared about nothing more than keeping this woman, than holding on to her and never letting her go.

  Her arm slipped down to his hand, and her fingers laced through his. Her palm pressed against the still-healing scab on his. “Come.
Let’s lie in my bed.”

  “I can’t sleep here,” he said with more than a little regret.

  She sighed. “I know. But you can stay a little while, can’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  They went to the bed and lay on their sides, face-to-face. Keeping their hands linked, they spoke of their marriage. Of the future. They spoke of traveling to exotic places someday, of some of the places he’d already seen, and they spoke of her family.

  And, in what seemed like mere minutes later, the sky began to gray, and Jack knew he must go before he was discovered.

  Leaning forward, he kissed her good-bye. She ran her slender fingers up his side, then down over his nipples, sending a shudder through him. He caressed her breasts, cupped them and kissed them, and slipped his hand between her legs to find her wet and ready. And then he pulled her leg over his hip and entered her, watching her sweet expressions of pleasure as he slid through her willing flesh.

  After they both had come, shuddering in each other’s arms, he gave her a long, lingering kiss and said good-bye.

  Jack left his lover’s bed, dressed, and slipped out her window. Though he passed the kitchen, where the morning bustle had already begun and the smells of frying ham and eggs wafted through the window, heslipped away undetected by anyone at the Duke of Calton’s house.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Becky stood at the drawing room window gazing out at a mild autumn evening, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Tomorrow she was going to do it. She was going to marry Jack Fulton.

  She’d never been happier. She’d given her trust to Jack, and every time she saw him, he proved himself more worthy of her trust. He’d come to her every night for the past four nights, and he visited her on a more formal basis during the day. Tonight at dinner, he’d been charming, thoughtful, and particularly attentive to her, and she’d seen the approval in her own family’s eyes. Everyone, from Aunt Bertrice to Kate and Garrett, liked Jack. They supported both him and their marriage. That meant so much to her.

  She turned to watch the other women. Kate was still recovering from Henry’s birth, but she had come down for the occasion, and she and Aunt Bertrice had partnered against Sophie and Cecelia to play at whist.

  Cecelia had come to visit with her yesterday, and Becky had described everything that had passed between her and Jack. She’d asked Cecelia about the dark-haired man at the masquerade, and in her usual unconcerned fashion, Cecelia had chuckled and said, “Oh, I took care of him. Rest assured he’ll not be trifling with me anymore.”

  Becky was too agitated to play at cards, but she’d convinced the other women to enjoy the game. She wouldn’t have them sacrifice their fun on account of her, and she really preferred to alternate between watching, sitting at the pianoforte, and wandering off on her own. In any case, the gentlemen were currently drinking their port and would join them in the drawing room soon.

  Jack would be here. She could hardly think of anything but him. After their talk the other night about the pain it caused him when she left him, it had been difficult to walk away from the dinner table tonight. It would be even more difficult to leave him later this evening.

  But starting tomorrow, they’d be together forever.

  Sighing, she turned back to the window. Parting the silky green curtains, she stared into the darkness.

  Fog blanketed the ground, and she could only see a few prongs of the wrought-iron gate in the distance. A full moon struggled to burn through the fog but succeeded only in casting a sullen gloom over the driveway below.

  Movement caught her eye, and she glanced down. The drawing room was just above the front entrance of Garrett’s London house, and she watched Jack and Lord Stratford descend the stairs, their coats pulled tightly around them.

  Her heart leapt into her chest. Surely they couldn’t be leaving!

  But they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, deep in conversation. Jack looked annoyed—no, he looked angry, and Stratford laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

  Becky turned toward the women who sat at the card table. “I must step away for a few moments. Will you excuse me?”

  Kate, the mistress of the house, and the one expected to give her permission, raised her eyes from her cards, concern creasing her forehead. “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no,” Becky lied, her voice slightly rushed. “Not at all. I just wanted to speak with the housekeeper about a detail for tomorrow. It is truly of little importance. I don’t wish to disturb your game.”

  “Of course you may go speak with Mrs. Krum, but return as quickly as you can, won’t you? I expect the gentlemen to arrive soon.”

  Becky inclined her head at her sister-in-law and smiled. “Of course, Kate. I’ll rush back, I promise.”

  With that, she fled from the room.

  There had been an odd occurrence during dinner. Jack had received a note. A footman had entered and said an urgent missive had been delivered for Mr. Fulton. Jack had glanced at the handwriting and then shrugged dismissively and tucked it into his tailcoat. When Cecelia questioned him about the note, he said it was nothing, and the conversation had turned to other topics.

  Yet Becky had wondered. What could have been in that letter? Who had sent it? Was that why Jack was so angry now?

  It could be a mistress, she realized. A jealous woman, furious that he was marrying tomorrow and trying to rouse Becky’s ire by delivering a note during dinner with her family. But she hadn’t thought Jack had kept a mistress in London. Then again, they’d never really discussed it. She’d never asked him. Perhaps she should have.

  Without taking the time to fetch a coat, she hurried downstairs and out the servants’ entrance, moving at a near run. As soon as she opened the door, the cold pierced through her dusty pink silk evening dress, but she ignored it. Staying off the crunching gravel of the path, she kept on the dirt, and tiptoeing in her silk slippers, she inched along the side of the house, ducking beneath the trellis that led to her bedroom window.

  “The bastard!” Jack growled from the front landing.

  Careful not to tear her silk on the barren branches of the creeping rose, Becky tucked her body between the arbor and the edge of the house. She leaned against the siding and listened to Lord Stratford hush Jack.

  “Shh. What does he say?”

  “He wants more money.”

  “Devious cur.” Stratford’s voice dripped with derision.

  “Here. Read it.” Paper crackled as Jack thrust the letter at Lord Stratford.

  Becky closed her eyes and listened to Jack’s friend read, his voice growing louder and more incredulous as he progressed.

  “Dear Jack, etcetera. Felicitations on your upcoming marriage, etcetera, etcetera. I have recently learned that Lady R. possesses a far greater fortune than I was led to believe. It was unkind of you not to be forthcoming with me, Jack. Dare I believe you wished to hoard all the lady’s money for yourself?

  “In light of these revelations, I have, just now, determined that the previously requested amount of fifteen thousand pounds is too low. I now require twenty-five thousand pounds.”

  Becky’s mouth went dry. She clenched her fists at her sides.

  No.

  Stratford continued. “Of course you will understand my urgency in delivering you this message, as I wanted you to be aware of the changes in the terms of our agreement prior to your nuptials. Yours, etcetera, T.W.”

  No, no, no.

  “What a damned idiot,” Stratford said in a low voice. Jack was silent, and the earl sighed. “Just pay him. Give him the money as soon as you have access to it, and be done with it.”

  “Twenty-five thousand pounds?” Jack’s voice was harsh. “It is the better part of her fortune.”

  Her fists still clenched at her sides, Becky turned away. She could hardly see the ground for the blur in her eyes.

  “I take it you’ve informed her of none of this business.”

  “None,” Jack confirmed.

  “
You must tell her. Surely she’ll discover it eventually, whether it’s fifteen thousand pounds or twenty-five. She’s not an idiot.”

  Jack made a low noise of frustration.

  Stratford sighed. “Not exactly how you’d planned it to play out when you informed her family of your meeting that night at Sheffield’s, eh?”

  Becky stifled a gasp. She could hardly hear what they said next over the screaming roar of denial in her ears.

  Jack had planned for them to be caught that night? That entire night had been staged?

  Pushing off from the side of the house, Becky fisted her hands in her skirts. She was shaking so hard her teeth threatened to rattle, but she clamped her jaw tight.

  “Twenty-five thousand pounds.” Gravel crunched as Jack paced restlessly.

  Stratford sighed. “Well, whether you tell her now or later, it won’t make a difference.”

  Oh, yes it will, Becky thought bitterly.

  “But for God’s sake, wait till after you are legally wed,” Stratford added. He laughed humorlessly. “The last thing you need is to have her change her mind about marrying you now.”

  Again, Jack was silent.

  “Listen to me,” Stratford said. “Wortingham is a fool. He’s a stupid fool, completely lacking in common sense. He wants you to marry—he wants his damned money, and yet he placed everything in jeopardy tonight by sending you that note while you were dining with her and her family. Mark my words, she’ll be asking you about that later.”

  No, she wouldn’t. She didn’t need to. She already possessed all the information she required.

  Jack grunted.

  “You can outwit him.”

  “How?” Jack said furiously. “Short of murdering the scheming bastard, there is nothing I can do.” The paper made a crumpling noise as he crushed it in his fist. “Murdering him wouldn’t even work.”

  Becky couldn’t listen to any more of this. Only one thing was clear: Just like William, Jack had seduced her for one thing only. For her money. It was her damnable fortune he loved. Not her.

  She’d been fooled once again. She’d given her trust to a man. She’d given him her love and her body, and all he wanted her for was her forty thousand pounds.