Seduce Me Please

by Nichole Matthews

  “God.” The word came out a breathless shudder before her fractured cry of pleasure threatened to summon his whole house.

  Graydon captured her cries with a long, hard and deep kiss. He devoured her with his mouth, absorbing her essence. His tongue was deep in her mouth, ravishing, probing, hot and unrelenting. Even her fantastic climax not enough to assuage his incredible hunger for her.

  He filled her, drove deep within her one last time, and then he went still, groaning as his liquid heat filled her. Struggling to take in air, he fought to clear his wits.

  “Piper,” his voice was ragged; his lungs were still too tight, his head dropped, resting on her stomach.

  She could feel the harshness of his breathing, could feel his chest rise and fall. She sucked in a breath, then took slow even drags of air in an attempt to slow her own heartbeat.

  Both jumped when a quick knock interrupted them.

  Graydon cursed. “Yes?” His lips twitched.

  “Lady Rockwell and your sisters have arrived, my lord.” Wells answered anxiously through the door.

  Piper emitted a soft gasp pushing up to a seated position, a flush staining her cheeks.

  Grinning at Piper, he gave a helpless shrug. “See them to the Green Salon.” He replied, humor warmed his voice. He shoved his shirt into his trousers before he fastened them.

  Piper tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle so Graydon assisted by fastening his mouth atop hers keeping the kiss light—teasing, tantalizing. Lifting his head, he grinned at her again.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He tugged down her skirt, then straightened her bodice. Extending his hand to her, he helped her down from the desk.

  Piper sighed, she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.

  Then turning her hand over on his palm, he raised it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her wrist. He held her hand to his cheek and found himself grinning like a fool. “Sweetheart, I’ll meet you at Almack’s tomorrow night.”

  “You are actually going to enter the seventh heaven of the fashionable world?” She stared fascinated, her right hand pressed to her heart. “You’re going to cause the patrons to have an apoplexy.”

  He burst into laughter, stunning her with the rich, husky sound.

  “I’m surprised your voucher has not yet been revoked?”

  “My darling, haven’t you heard? I’m a dying breed. I’m relatively young, wildly attractive,” He raised his brow comically. “a peer of the realm, and obscenely rich, my voucher will never be revoked.”

  “You left out shamefully arrogant.”

  “Of course that is implied.” Tenderly, he brushed a finger across her lips. “Follow my lead.” He lowered his head, brushed her lips with his a final time before opening the door and peeking into the hallway to make sure the way was clear.

  His long, warm fingers slid around her wrist, closed over her rapidly beating pulse as they slipped into the hallway, scurrying to the front door, snatching her pelisse and parasol from a waiting footman, she slipped out before anyone spied her.

  Graydon caught himself staring at the closed door for what seemed like hours. Perfect. She was perfect. She challenged him. She made him feel alive. She made him long for the unmentionable.

  Returning to his library for a moment to compose himself, he caught a glimpse of a folded piece of paper lying on the floor.

  Be very careful.

  I’m watching you.

  W

  “Fuck!” He growled, stuffing the note in his pocket. “Well’s!”

  ………………………………….

  “Mama?” Esme Morgan questioned, pointing out the window. “Isn’t that Lady Piper?”

  “Good heavens.” Lady Rockwell pressed her hand against her heart as she witnessed Piper scurrying down the steps and across the street. Hope rose within her. “I do believe you are right.” Her eyes narrowed as she exchanged a glance with her eldest daughter. For the first time in a long time she was feeling relatively optimistic about her son’s future. She bent to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. “Such a lovely day isn’t it, my dear?” Wrapping her arm around Esme’s shoulder, she steered her towards the settee. “Why don’t you pour our tea today, dear?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Esme replied as she sat prettily on the edge of her seat, arranging her skirts just so.

  …………………………….

  Straightening his shoulders, here we go, he threw open the salon doors with a flourish and stepped into the room, glancing around he noted the mischievous smile present on his mother’s face.

  “Graydon!” Esme cried.

  “Hoyden!” He mimicked her excited tone, leaning over his sister; he kissed her affectionately on her forehead before seating himself in one of the chairs situated near the settee. “And to what do I owe this unexpected, yet delightful visit?”

  His mother fixed him with a stare that had him fidgeting in his seat. “Did we interrupt a visitor, darling?” She studied her son’s face.

  He blinked at her, one brow lifted arrogantly, along with the corners of his mouth. “Really, Mother, you’re not teaching Esme to be a spy are you?” His amber eyes flicked a disbelieving expression, slapping his well-manicured hand on his knee.

  “Not at all, Graydon! I resent what you are implying.” Draining her teacup, she harrumphed. “Esme noticed a mysterious lady leaving through the front window.”

  Oh, bother! Did he have no privacy? “I have no idea what you are talking about Mother.” He resisted the urge to squirm under his mother’s too knowing eye.

  His mother repressed another smile, turning to her daughter she said, “Esme you must have been mistaken.” She motioned for her daughter to refill her cup. “There must be dozens of young ladies in London that look just like Lady Piper; she is far from an original.”

  Graydon bristled at his mother’s attempt to rile his temper. He knew she was trying to irritate him, thinking that he would blurt out a juicy tidbit.

  He leaned forward, “Nice try, Mother,” he said, his voice tinged with humor, patting his mother’s hand tenderly.

  “Would you like some tea, dear?” His mother inquired with studied innocence.

  His mother was going to drive him crazy. “Did Olivia not accompany you today, or is she off hiding?” He cocked his head, looking about the room.

  “She wanted to visit the Royal Menagerie. She tagged along with the Lucas’ girl.” She paused before switching topics. “I knew it could not possibly have been Lady Piper leaving your home. I didn’t see a chaperone by her side.” Lady Rockwell snuck a quick glance at her son.

  “When have you ever heard of my dallying with innocent misses?” He glanced over at her, quirking his brow.

  “Well…”

  “I had nothing to do with that mother.”

  “Darling, I’m fully aware that you had nothing to do with that girl’s corruption.” She watched her son over the rim of her cup as she took a sip of the fragrant brew. “I find tea so relaxing, don’t you darling?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t think me guilty?”

  “Because you need to learn to be more careful with your ennui, Graydon, or you will find yourself in a loveless marriage just as most of the ton and I have greater hopes for you. I knew the girl’s mother. She was exactly the same when she was first out.” One brow lifted. “How do you think Lord Staverton became saddled with her?” She replied pointedly. “I’m sure he was truly disappointed to find what lessons she learned from her mother.”

  ……………………………………

  The rain poured steadily from the evening’s sky. The drops piercing his skin like pin pricks falling from the heavens. He was frustrated, angry, drenched and excited all at the same time, but the fear was what drove him right now. Not a great combination. He did not want Piper to become embroiled in his mess. Even if it meant that he would have to stay away from her. He couldn’t afford to have her hurt. The weather was definitely not acting as a b
alm to his irritation tonight.

  He hadn’t wanted to waste time waiting for his horse to be readied, so he walked the short distance to Ashford House where he presented himself at the door as a drowned rat.

  He pounded on the door as hard as he could would his fist. “Bertie! Bertie!” It seemed the weather was a reflection of his mood. Each pounding of his fists on the door was punctuated by a loud rumble of thunder as if the sky were growling along with him. After a long moment, it opened

  Bertie stood in the doorway, “Here now…Lord Rockwell,” He bowed, shaking his head at the mess standing before him. “Come in. I will send for some towels to dry with.”

  “I must speak with Ashford, now.” He removed his hat and a thick stream of cold rain sluiced down his back. “It’s urgent, Bertie. There is no time to waste.”

  “Of course, my lord. He glanced over his shoulder. “He is in his study.”

  Graydon strode down the hallway heedless of the trail of water he was leaving in his wake. Pausing at the closed door he knocked, then pushed open the door.

  Parker’s head flew up, “Rockwell, what is the matter?”

  Graydon dug the message out of his pocket and flung it on Parker’s desk along with a spray of rain drops.

  Be very careful.

  I’m watching you.

  W

  Parker looked up with a frown. “I wonder why another message so soon?”

  Graydon closed his eyes. “This message wasn’t delivered to me; it was delivered to Piper…” He didn’t get a chance to finish.

  Parker stood, toppling his heavy desk chair in his rush. “Piper?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why is Piper receiving messages intended for you?””

  Graydon rubbed his neck wearily. “Piper came to my house yesterday. The culprit must have seen her visit. He’s apparently ascertained that he can hurt me by threatening her.” He plopped down in one of the chairs in front of Parker’s desk. “And it’s working.” He let his head drop. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? I cannot let her get hurt! I can’t!” His hands gripped the arms of the chair until his fingers turned white.

  “I’ve sent someone to find out more on this Whitman fellow, but he hasn’t returned yet.” He took a deep breath and released it. “This certainly changes everything.”

  “Yes it does.”

  Parker gave him a meaningful look. “In more ways than one.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Why do men believe that they can make wiser decisions than a woman? I feel quite capable of deciding if a man would make a suitable husband.

  Piper’s journal

  8 August

  PIPER WAS BORED.

  She was tired of standing idly around the Assembly Rooms with a weak glass of lemonade. The entertainments of the season didn’t hold a candle to her time in Graydon’s home. She had tasted passion and the insipid ladies of the ton and the dandified gentlemen didn’t cut it anymore. She missed Graydon. She had looked everywhere and he was nowhere to be found, so she had no choice but to wait.

  She clutched the bouquet that he had sent to her that afternoon, her lifeline through this tedious evening. The only reason she was standing in this assembly room without him with a false smile plastered to her face.

  Mr. Fulton was a genial enough fellow and he was a tolerable dancer which was all that mattered to her right now. Luckily she didn’t have to talk very much with him during this particular set, remotely going through the motions. Smiling and simpering when necessary.

  She was bothered by the dark look that she sometimes witnessed in his eyes when she turned to him unexpectedly, she couldn’t control the chill that swept down her spine. Something about him made her extremely uncomfortable, especially tonight. There was smugness about him. A look of…triumph, that is what alarmed her.

  She was tired of waiting. She was irritated. And she definitely didn’t want to be held in other men’s arms tonight so she walked out onto the terrace, leaned against the railing, closed her eyes and took deep soothing breaths as she waited some more. The air was cool, refreshingly so. The quiet surrounded her allowing her to think. She took another deep breath then released it, lifting her head to gaze up at the night sky. Stars were everywhere, millions and millions of tiny white lights that brightened the sky. She felt so insignificant when she took a moment to reflect.

  She heard his steps a moment before he came up behind her. A smile spread across her face as a warm hand settled on her shoulder. She sighed with relief, leaning back against his solid chest. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where have you been?” Glancing over her shoulder, she gasped as she looked into the cold pale eyes of Mr. Whitman. Startled, she stumbled, jerking around to face him. “What are you doing?” She staggered as she tried to pull herself out of his grasp. “Take your hands off of me.”

  Panic set in causing Piper to twist and struggle as he pulled her further away from the door. “Unhand me…” she cried. She started to scream, but his large hand clamped over her mouth, only a whimper escaped. He whispered harshly in her ear, “Hush, my lady. I would prefer to not harm you. But I will if necessary.” His arms wrapped around her, his hold unbreakable. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth, if you scream or make any sound, I will snap your neck. Shake your head if you understand.”

  Nodding her head frantically her fear was quickly reaching monstrous proportions. Where was Graydon? Why wasn’t he here? She was truly frightened now. “What do you want from me?” she demanded, her voice growing hoarse, she tried everything she could think of to keep him from hearing the tremble of fear. She cried out from pain as he dug his hand into the soft flesh of her arm. Looking into his face, she could tell that he didn’t care if he hurt her or not. Her stomach cramped in a tight knot, fear overpowering her.

  He descended on her with a ferocious expression, “I don’t want anything from you.” He laughed roughly, his voice as hard and flat as his eyes. “But Rockwell wants you and I am going to punish him by taking you.” He sounded very pleased with himself.

  The sudden dryness of her mouth was making it difficult to speak; she forced herself to make a sound. “I don’t understand? What has Lord Rockwell done to you?” Piper asked trying to buy some time.

  “He’s the golden boy of Le Beau Monde. He gets everything he wants. And he is going to learn how it feels to lose something that you truly desire. The rest is none of your goddamn concern right now.” He caught her wrist, dragging her down the steps onto the darkened garden path. “For your sake, you just better hope that Rockwell desires you as much as you think he does.”

  Stumbling, Piper cried out, taking the opportunity to jerk loose from his grip. She tried to run but he caught her by the hair pulling her forcefully. Whipping her around, backhanding her across the cheek.

  Piper tumbled to the ground with a cry of pain, reaching up to cover her face. Her eye felt about to pop out of her head, the pain almost unbearable. The coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth. Crawling frantically across the ground she tried once again to get away.

  Reaching down he grabbed her ankle and dragged her across the pebbled path. The stones cut painfully into her palms as she clawed the earth trying to dig her hands into something, anything to stop herself. He pulled harder, fingers twisting into her skin until she was a heap at his feet. Wrenching a rag from his pocket, he stuffed it into her mouth between her teeth. Grunting and kicking trying to get away, she was thwarted as her hands were dragged behind her and tied with a leather strip. Gripping her around the waist, he threw her over his shoulder, her head bouncing as he elbowed a hidden gate open at the corner of the garden.

  In the alley behind the assembly rooms, a carriage waited. Pulling open the door, he threw her on the floor and leapt inside as the carriage raced down the back alleyway. “You’ve got a lot of spirit, my lady, but don’t let it get you killed,” he whispered over her face.

  Piper lay still on the floor where she landed, trying to take deep calming breaths. She could
tell by the tone of his voice that he would truly kill her. There was no emotion in any of the words he spoke. She could barely breathe with the cloth stuffed into her mouth, causing panic to cloud her mind. She knew who her attacker was, she could identify him. What did that mean?

  Why? She didn’t understand why, but she knew now that she had been kidnapped. Knowing this, she refused to go down without a fight, thrashing wildly she began to kick and writhe on the floor of the carriage. Kicking the shins of her captor more than once, causing him to holler out a string of blasphemous curses in his pain.

  “Bitch!” Whitman snarled back, landing a hard kick directly in her stomach.

  She cried out at the unexpectedness of the blow. The sound muffled by the rag stuffed deep in her mouth. Piper doubled up in excruciating pain, gasping for breath. Tears streaming from her eyes as the bile rose in her throat, gagging on the dry rag. She could barely draw a breath. Knowing she had to remain calm, she knew she couldn’t allow panic to overtake her. She fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her and prayed that she would be rescued.

  Graydon.

  He glared at her from the seat above. His gray eyes held hers, watching her with a curious little smile.

  …………………………..

  He looked every inch a gentleman, elegantly garbed in black silk knee britches, white waistcoat, black coat, white stockings, and buckled shoes, exactly as the Patronesses wanted. Graydon couldn’t suppress his smile as he made his way through the ballroom. Not stopping for anyone. He had spied Piper making her way to the terrace when he walked into the room and he was wasting no time reaching her.