Seduce Me Please

by Nichole Matthews

  Graydon nodded. “It appears we have a mystery to solve, Wells.” The Morgan’s were targets for many things, but as far as he was aware he had never heard of any blackmail in their history, which now that he thought about it more thoroughly was quite surprising considering the amount of rogues in his ancestry.

  Graydon took control of his thoughts. He was going to have to call in some favors.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Where has he disappeared?

  Piper’s journal

  24 June

  AFTER DANCING THREE SETS AND EXCHANGING GREETINGS WITH VARIOUS GUESTS, Piper gradually made her way to the far corner of the ballroom. Here she was able to feel the cooling spring breeze that wafted through the open windows and hide for a few minutes to collect her thoughts. She could find no fault with Lord Perceval. He was a perfectly acceptable man. He was tolerably attractive. He wasn’t a fortune hunter. Any other lady would be honored to have his attentions. She was honored to have his attentions, but…she bit her lip. She could have stood before the vicar many times over. She could be the wife of any number of men by now.

  Piper wondered if she would ever get married or would she be the spinster sister of the Marquis of Ashford, living out her days in solitude or eccentricity. Why did her desires for the perfect husband seem so far out of reach? All she wanted was a gentleman who loved her, desired her, and who valued family as much as she did. Poppy found one. He was a fine example of tall, dark, and handsome. Was Hawksley the last remaining perfect husband? She was growing depressed dwelling upon that thought. If she continued along this vein, she would wind up depressed and confined to her room easing her tortured mind with laudanum or better yet bon bons. She had heard of many ladies who occupied their time in this manner. What a dreadful existence. She had to do something, and she had to act quickly.

  Glancing frantically around, Piper acted upon the first escape that popped into her mind. “Oh, dear!” She snatched up her skirts, looking at the hem anxiously. “Oh, dear! Please excuse me, my lord. I must take care of this tear immediately.”

  Bowing, “Of course, my lady.” Lord Perceval held out his arm. “Shall I escort you?”

  “No, my lord.” Piper smiled prettily. “Don’t waste a single moment of this set waiting on me to complete this irksome task.” She looked around the room as if searching for another partner. “I know there are countless ladies anxious for your company, my lord.” She tapped him flirtatiously on the sleeve of his blue superfine coat with her fine bone brisé fan.

  A pleased flush spread across Lord Perceval’s round cheeks. “You flatter me unnecessarily, my dear lady.”

  “Stuff and nonsense, my lord. Now shoo!” Piper fluttered her hand in the direction of a colorful cluster of ladies framing the overcrowded ballroom. “Hurry along!” Piper grinned, exceedingly pleased with her dramatic performance. Not bad.

  Backing slowly so as not to draw any undue attention her way, she let out a pent up breath when she finally made her way to the long windows and out onto the small terrace. She certainly was not going to stop until she was certain she was safely out of view of the other guests. The ruse of pinning a ripped flounce would only allow her a modicum of freedom.

  Taking a deep draw on his cheroot, Graydon’s eyes narrowed as he blew out a long stream of smoke, watching the curling gray smoke rise into the air. He let his gaze drift over the garden watching as guests escaped the overheated ballroom to cool themselves. There was at least the hint of peace and quiet on the terrace. Throwing his cheroot down, he crushed it under his heel. Leaning over the railing, he pondered his future. Finally he had found someone that breached his incessant ennui and as luck would have it, there was nothing he could do about it. A faint smile touched his mouth as he turned around to return to ballroom.

  Taking a deep breath she turned around and crashed into a body like granite.

  Her eyes flew wide. “Oh.” Her gloved hand landed near the lapel of his black evening jacket her eyes at the exact level of his black onyx stickpin.

  Strong hands quickly gripped her arms above the elbows to steady her as she landed against him. Touching the flesh not covered by her gown or her gloves. Sensations flared where his white-cotton gloved hands touched her naked flesh. Her breasts pressed firmly to his chest as her small hands splayed across his impressive chest. The impact sent a jolt of awareness sizzling through her.

  “I beg your pardon.” At the sound of his deep voice, her heart slammed against her ribs. She could feel the rumble of the deeply voiced apology that seemed to resonate through to her very bones. A decidedly masculine chest pressed against her cheek. She could feel his slow and steady heartbeat compared to her swiftly beating one. The heady scent of spice and heat assailed her nostrils.

  “I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.” Flustered, she twisted out of his grasp almost tripping, trying to ignore the flare of awareness his touch had provoked.

  Piper hauled her gaze up to clash with the familiar amber eyes from her most insistent dreams. Blast! “Rockwell!” She blurted, gazing into his eyes trying to ascertain if he felt the same jolt of awareness she had. She cleared her throat. “Your pardon, my lord.”

  Graydon stared down at her. He didn’t blink, but his lips curved into a captivating smile meant to disarm her. “For my sins.” He bowed, his voice tinged with humor. He was surprised his voice even worked. His mouth suddenly dry, his tongue felt swollen too big for its space, and he felt unexpectedly gauche.

  Surprised by his reply, Piper chuckled. “They say your sins are great, my lord.”

  “Touché.” He gave her a charmingly crooked grin. “And who might they be?” His head tilted, he coaxed her with that same charming grin. Renewed desire surged through him. He’d allowed himself to become empty and unfilled and with one chance encounter he felt as if he would burst.

  Piper felt oddly pleased with their interaction. “Why, everyone of course,” she quipped waving her hand towards the ballroom, her grin as wide as his. A nervous fluttering arose in her stomach with their friendly banter with hints of flirtation.

  Graydon’s gaze raked approvingly over her unquestionably feminine form. “Yet here you are standing alone—with me on this dark, isolated terrace,” he drawled. Her fortitude impressed him greatly. She did not shy away from his intense stare, but met it squarely.

  Piper was intensely aware of his potent physical presence. His nearness, his touch, and even his gaze stirred her senses in a way no other man ever had. Even now he was studying her with a hungry look causing a warm flush to spread slowly across her face. The heat almost unbearable, she suppressed the urge to circulate the still air with the fan hanging from her now limp wrist. “Don’t be ridiculous. I had no idea you were here,” she said bluntly, endeavoring to appear blasé. “Had I done so, I would have surely chosen another avenue for my escape. I was trying to get some air.” Her brow quirked. “Alone.”

  Stepping back, he swept her an elegant bow. His amber eyes gleamed at her humorously as he drawled, “And here I hoped you had been searching most diligently for me.”

  Piper smiled wryly. “That is rather conceited of you, don’t you think?”

  “I would call it confidence, not conceit.” He tossed her a true smile, not one practiced for flirtations. “You wouldn’t scold me for having hope, would you?” His eyes twinkled. “Alas, it could be all that my poor soul has left.” His hand splayed suppliantly over his heart.

  His amber eyes looked as if they belonged to a man who found immense joy in life. She loved that they seemed to be smiling at her during the entirety of their exchange. “Never, my lord,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “That would be completely heartless of me and I would certainly never be so unfeeling. Ask any of my acquaintances, I am always the epitome of politeness.” She fluttered her fan nervously before her face. The cooling breeze a welcome respite to her flushed cheeks. “I see how you came by your notorious reputation, my lord. You do have a silver tongue.” She surprised herse
lf with each word that she spoke. Poppy was the one gifted with the art of flirtation, but he made it quite simple. She just said what was on the tip of her tongue and they were flowing quite effortlessly.

  Graydon laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was the most stimulating encounter he had experienced in ages. Leaning back against the wrought-iron railing that surrounded the terrace, he crossed his arms over his muscled chest; the pale moonlight casting deep shadows over his features. Intrigued, he inquired, “What would your chaperone say if she knew you were out on this terrace alone with someone such as me?”

  Pausing just a moment, she looked out over the garden before responding. When finally her lips curved into a slow beguiling smile, her bright blue eyes lifted to meet his with a bold confidence he knew she was feigning. “Well done?” The words delivered with a slight questioning air.

  “Ah…” Graydon leaned forward, narrowing the space between them to only a few inches, just a hair’s breadth away from her tempting figure. She did have the biggest blue eyes he had ever seen. At this moment they drew him into the magical spell she wove expertly around him. “So what you’re saying, my lady is that I should be the one concerned?” He glanced over her shoulder into the ballroom with furrowed brows.

  Piper hesitated a moment before throwing a puzzled glance over her shoulder. “What are you searching for, my lord?”

  “My chaperone, of course,” he advised with a wicked grin.

  Piper cocked her head to one side, a befuddled look on her face. “Your chaperone?”

  “Yes.” He bit back a smile, edging nearer. “Because, my dear, you are turning out to be a very dangerous lady.” He looked almost boyish with the trace of mischief glittering in his eyes. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

  “You’ve not wasted a single thought on me, my lord,” she scoffed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest before asking, “Surely a man, such as yourself, is not afraid of little ol’ me?” That he might have spared a single thought for her at all was actually quite flattering. She had definitely wasted many an afternoon and evening, who was she kidding, and morning dreaming of him. She slapped her gloved hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle the inelegant snort that emerged.

  Removing her hand from her mouth, he clasped her delicate fingers firmly in his large, strong grasp. His thumb rubbed slow sensuous circles over the rapid pulse at her wrist in a way that aroused her whole body, making her breath quicken. “Oh, you’d be surprised at what could cause a man, such as me, to tremble in my boots.” He was grinning at her, the candlelight from the ballroom glinting off his amber eyes, his grin widened, yet he still did not release her wrist.

  Piper’s eyes lowered to his feet, her voice husky, “You’re not wearing boots, my lord.”

  He blinked at her, amazed by her witty response. “Indeed.” He followed her gaze down to his black leather low-heeled shoes with polished silver buckles. “Well then, I’m most definitely in trouble, my lady. I fear I am inadequately shod for trembling.” Lifting her hand, he bent forward, his eyes never leaving hers; he pressed his lips to her exposed wrist. Shooting sparks of awareness straight to her core. Her stomach quivered with need at the hot caress of his lips on her flesh. Delightful sensations swirled, sending ripples of heat pulsing through her body. “I must strenuously reprimand my valet for allowing me to leave my home poorly attired for tonight’s entertainments.”

  She tried desperately to consider a clever rejoinder, but none came. Her tongue and most obviously her brain were debilitated by the seductive aura that flowed freely from his being.

  “Did you find the book you were searching for?” His quiet question interrupted her thoughts.

  “Book…” She broke off when an insistent voice intruded on their pleasurable seclusion.

  “Rockwell?” A female voice, just faintly heard, held a slight hint of annoyance as it floated out to the terrace. “I saw you come this way, darling.”

  Graydon glanced past her shoulder and frowned as jagged shards of frustration slashed through his body at the untimely interruption.

  Piper pulled on her wrist trying to dislodge her hand from his grasp, searching his shadowed features.

  Graydon tightened his grip, his fingers fixed as he watched her bright blue eyes become dull, suddenly devoid of any warmth. He concealed his disappointment with a wry grin, “My dear, it has been an unexpected pleasure.” He looked into her eyes, bringing her hand back up to his lips, kissing the tips of her gloved fingers.

  Piper blinked, uncertain of the proper response to his touch, to his words, to his game. She wanted to feel anger, but the feel of his lips made her feel something wholly different. She shivered, fixing her narrowed eyes on him; unable to say a word. Yanking her hand away she stared at him with a disbelieving expression reflected in her wounded blue eyes.

  He placed his finger over her lips to silence any verbal complaint, then with a wicked wink, Graydon straightened and walked back into the ballroom.

  Moving to the door, Piper peeked back into the ballroom just in time to watch Lady Carleton drape herself on Rockwell’s arm. Blast!

  Piper’s eyes widened when Rockwell glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her once more.

  Gasping at his audacity, Piper spun around and pressed her back firmly against the ivy covered brick wall. Holding her breath, she squeezed her eyes closed and counted to ten. Conscious only of her heart pounding out a wild beat against her ribs.

  He was good. He was either truly an expert at trapping desperate women in his web of seduction, or she was more of a simpleton than she wanted to believe. And she most assuredly didn’t classify herself in the category of simpleton.

  Silently she cursed Rockwell for making her feel this way.

  For making her feel vulnerable.

  For making her feel insecure.

  For making her feel… flushed and hot.

  And most of all, for making her feel exhilarated.

  She hadn’t felt excitement like that in…well, never...

  Blast the man! She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then opened her eyes to stare out into the moonlit garden enhanced by the twinkling fairy lights swinging from the trees. How dare he touch her one minute as if he had every right and then the next stroll through the ballroom with another lady plastered to his side. A very unladylike snort escaped at the word. There was nothing to it. She was going to have to remove him from her every thought, but how? She was gaining no benefit from losing herself in a daydream that incorporated a completely inappropriate example of a gentleman. She sucked in a long, slow breath and released it on a hiss. Sagging back against the wall, she fanned herself vigorously with her fan.

  How dare she wish it were her glued to him instead?

  Abruptly she pushed off from the wall, straightened her back and squared her shoulders. Smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt, she turned and strode into the ballroom; chin held high with a smile pasted on her face.

  As soon as she walked back into the ballroom, she was immediately hemmed in by more than a few desperate men in need of a wealthy wife. She smiled and simpered to the best of her ability, but in her mind she compared them to him, and each were found wanting.

  At that moment she became irritated with Miss Harris. Because each time she looked up, she could only see blurs and splashes of color. What was so awful with spectacles? Hers were of the highest quality, even better than most of the paste jewels worn tonight that barely sparkled in the light of the hundreds of lit candles. She fought back annoyance due to the fact that she was unable to see more than a few feet in front of her face without her spectacles perched high atop her nose. What did it matter if she wore spectacles anyway? How were they any worse than the constant squint she was forced to endure in order to see? No one wanted her for her looks; they all wanted her for her obscenely large inheritance or her impeccable family connections. If she were truly honest with herself, she was displeased at the irrational ire that circulated throughout her mi
nd due to the fact that she was unable to clearly follow Rockwell’s procession across the dance floor, which in turn spiked her frustration even further. She had a desperate need to once again witness his outrageous flirtation with every unsuitable woman in the room in order to crush this absurd obsession she felt for him.

  But just as she suspected, her efforts were futile.

  In order to distract her thoughts, she forced herself to dance several more dances; but with each pass around the floor she scanned the room in hopes that she would catch even the slightest glimpse of that tall, golden man.

  She was a foolish woman if she allowed her evening to be ruled by one man. A man who hadn’t bothered to seek her out further, who hadn’t even attempted to secure a proper introduction, who didn’t even know her name. Foolish…Piper tensed as an unwanted voice interrupted her already irritated thoughts.

  “Lady Piper.” Fulton bowed in front of her. “I believe this is my dance.”

  Piper hesitated before glancing up into Mr. Fulton’s cold, beady eyes. “Yes, Mr. Fulton, I believe you are correct.”

  Across the crowded ballroom, Graydon stood propped against the wall with a half-filled glass in his hand and a full-fledged frown upon his face.

  He was cognizant of her every move.

  Every sigh.

  Every laugh.

  Especially every dance when she was in the arms of another man.

  There was not a single moment that passed that he could not pinpoint her whereabouts in an instant. He had always been intensely aware of her, but now even more so because he finally knew how she felt in his arms—perfect.

  The sound of soft laughter floated across the ballroom, and he knew it was her laughter because it caused his whole body to tighten in response. Unfortunately for him, Lady Caroline’s tart voice required all of his concentration. Her ample body practically spilled out of the gown she wore as she strategically pressed herself against him. Her cloying perfume no longer enticed, it suffocated, contrary to Piper’s fresh scent. And although she did have the most extraordinary breasts he had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on; and he had seen more than his fair share, the sight no longer aroused.