Chapter Four
The light from the candles in the sconces flew by, zigzags in Emily’s vision like little crackles of lightning. Her lungs were burning. Sharp pains stabbed her sides. She hugged the bundle of her pelisse to herself and kept lifting her legs, pumping them, the need to put distance between herself and Alexander Dalton driving her on.
With the startled cry of the front desk clerk sounding in her ears, she exited City Tavern.
The shock of cold air hit her sweat dampened face and the exposed portion of her bosom. Her slipper shod foot slipped on a patch of ice on the stairs. She dropped the bundle of her pelisse and lunged for the rail and gripped it to steady herself. Her heart pounded and she gulped for air as the street seemed to dance in her giddy vision.
Oh God!
Oh God, oh God, oh God!
She couldn’t do it!
She couldn’t give herself to a man, a stranger, for coin.
Not any man.
Not even her sun-god from the Blue Duck.
Boots sounded on the stone steps behind her.
She spun.
The lamps shone on Mr. Alexander Dalton’s golden head.
She cried out and took flight, pumping her legs as fast as they would go.
But a frantic glance over her shoulder told her how futile her efforts were. He was easily overtaking her.
Men and their damned long-legged strides.
Shaking with weakness, her legs collapsing from under her, she was forced to stop and fling herself against the closest brick wall.
She panted, hard, as he slowed to a more stately pace.
She could have run faster, before the fever. Now lingering weakness hampered her even in this. He approached her, carrying a dark bundle. Her pelisse.
He handed her the garment. “It is freezing out here. Have you lost your mind?”
Her teeth chattered and she still panted too hard to speak.
He frowned. “Do wish to become ill? Put this over yourself.”
She reached out a trembling hand and took her wrap. She wadded the threadbare wool to herself and glanced down at the nankeen breeches that clearly outlined his powerful thighs. Despite the biting, frigid breeze, heat suffused her and her lower belly fluttered. Suddenly, she longed to fling herself into his arms and press her body against his tall, hard-muscled frame.
What would it be like to have a man—this man—covering her with his weight and taking her body?
Chills tingled through her; fear so strong that her mouth went dry. Not fear of him, and not entirely of her own reaction.
No—it was fear of the strength of her reaction to him.
That had been what had sent her running to begin with.
Back in City Tavern, when she had pleaded to go home, his determination to convince her to stay, his velvet-smooth persuasion, that had sent her heart pounding with alarm—alarm, because she had been perilously close to being seduced by it.
Seduced.
He was a stranger, and perhaps a dangerous one at that.
Yet, he had the ability to affect and manipulate her senses, to render her so confused and giddy with excitement and emotions she’d never dealt with before, that she couldn’t even be sure which were her own thoughts and wishes, and which were those that he had conjured within her.
That had frightened her to her very core.
She just had to get away from him—that had been all she had known. Had she sat there another moment, had she failed to escape his beguiling influence, she was sure she would have succumbed.
His iron-willed determination swathed in the velvet persuasion of his charm and gilded by his handsomeness, it reminded her too painfully, too frighteningly close of Grandmother’s control disguised behind a mask of concern and maternal love.
She had once allowed others to manipulate and control her.
She would never, ever allow that to happen again.
And this handsome, charming gentleman might be hiding a very dangerous inner nature…
During the meal, she had been overcome with that sense that there was something deeper and darker lurking in Alex’s eyes—no matter his beguiling, charming exterior. The notion confused her. Raised her hackles.
It had sent wild currents of energy flashing through her limbs, and stirred inside her an impulse to run. Now, she watched his approach, observed every line of his deliciously masculine body and gorgeous face, with the transfixed fascination that a cornered rabbit had for a fox.
“Are you going to cover yourself?” His deep, honeyed voice startled her out of her transfixed state.
Heart thudding, she reached behind her, feeling along the brick wall and taking a step away from him. Then another. Her foot slipped and she almost turned her ankle. Still panting hard to catch her breath and light-headed with fatigue, she struggled not to lose her balance.
His high, broad forehead wrinkled as though with concern and he reached out to her with one hand. “Here, let me help.”
He reached for her pelisse.
She clung to the garment. “It’s quite all right,” she managed to say between breaths.
“I’ll take you home.”
She couldn’t possibly let him. She couldn’t risk being alone with him in his closed carriage.
She couldn’t risk another moment in his company.
What she would do without her rent money, she just didn’t know. All she knew was that she had to get away from him.
Now.
Because if she stayed with him much longer, she’d never be able to resist the temptation. He fascinated her so much; she wanted him so badly that her every instinct for self-preservation screamed that if he took her, she’d be lost. No—more than simply lost. She’d lose herself forever.
She’d lose some vital part of herself.
Her self-determination.
Her soul.
Yes, that fear might be irrational, but she couldn’t help it.
“No… No. You simply can’t give me a ride home.” Her mind scrambled for something to put him off. “I-I didn’t tell you…but I should have.”
“What?”
“I have a protector.”
He started, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility. Then he grinned—there was something wicked and all-too-worldly glinting in his eyes. “Well, sweetheart, he’s not here now.”
He took several steps forward, his boots crunching on ice.
She should run. She really should. But her legs seemed to go all wobbly, growing more so with each step he took until he was standing no more than an inch from her.
Her stomach floated up with both excitement and fear—the most exhilarating sensation she had ever felt. “B-but if someone saw you and I together and told…he’d be crushed.”
He brushed aside her cloak and traced the central line from her chin to the hollow of her collar with one leather-gloved fingertip. Fire raced down over her breasts and made her nipples pull into tight pebbles. God. A hundred dollars. No—one hundred and fifty. He’d actually offered her a hundred and fifty dollars, and he was everything she could ever imagine she’d want in a gentleman—based strictly on physical appearance. He seemed to be kind and generous. Maybe she was being too hasty in deciding not to accept his offer.
Or was she allowing her sensual responses to cloud her thinking? Not so long ago, she’d sworn that she could never, ever willingly give herself to a man for coin.
But could she give herself for desire?
But if she were overcome with desire for him because of his sheer masculine beauty, his enticing charm, because he was working his will on her senses, was that a true decision on her part? Or was it giving into a type of manipulation? Where was the line between being seduced by him and making her own free choice?
I’ll never allow anyone’s manipulation and control again. Never.
Yet, she could feel his influence working on her, weakening her will. She had never dreamed of such a man. Never suspected that she would be so susceptible to any
man.
Tingles shot through her belly. Tingles of fear that shot deeper into her loins and only seemed to fuel her rising sense of excitement. An anticipation like she’d never known, a feeling that something momentous was about to happen.
Something was about to happen. He was going to seduce her. She was finding it harder and harder to think clearly, to find the will to resist.
He remained persistent. He just might succeed in his seduction.
That realization made her heart pound, made her fear all the stronger.
She had never, ever experienced such intense, conflicting emotions. Oh, she just needed to get away, to just have a few moments alone, away from this dazzlingly charming, utterly handsome man, to think clearly, to regain her balance. Energy surged into her legs, another urge to run, as hard and fast as she could. Yet, she could only stare into those beautiful blue-gray eyes, feeling herself going deeper and deeper in his thrall. Drowning.
I was too certain of my ability to navigate this situation. Too assured of my own ability to handle myself with a man.
How often had Grandmother declared her to be too head-strong, too assured of herself for a young woman?
Oh, she was in trouble now.
Such trouble…
“Your protector is very careless.” His velvet smooth voice held a sensual undertone as he continued to draw his fingertip along her collarbone. “No jewelry to adorn your pretty neck. A girl like you could easily command a fortune in jewels.”
She barely breathed as she watched him trace his finger over the black lace on the edge of her bodice. Her nipples were sharp, painful points now. Small shivers of delight overtook her body.
His seduction—or her free decision?
Would it really hurt to just let things happen?
Oh, why couldn’t she have found a less magnificent man to have attempted this whole matter with? She would then have had no trouble simply saying no. She would already be home, safe in her bed and rock solid sure of her decision.
She released her held breath then watched it turn to smoky vapor between them. The sweat cooling on her forehead, on the exposed portion of her bosom, made her shiver.
“He’s cheap,” she said in a tone of casualness she certainly didn’t feel.
He froze his fingertip and frowned. “You seem too astute to let yourself go cheaply.”
She rolled one shoulder up then let it drop. “Times are tough.”
His grin returned. “Not that tough, sweetheart.”
She let her tension out in a sigh and her shoulders sank. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
He removed his hand and his smile twisted into a wry, somehow self-mocking grin. “All right, sweetheart—I’ll drop you a short ways from where you live.”
That grin, dear heaven, it sent heat twisting through her middle, into her pelvis.
She wanted to allow him to show her what it meant to be seduced.
She wanted him.
Badly.
No, no, no—she couldn’t allow herself to be alone again with him in a closed carriage! She couldn’t trust herself. If he…if she allowed him to seduce her, before she was sure of her own mind, she would be allowing someone else to control her actions, her decisions in a way that frightened her. “I can’t accept.”
His expression sobered and his jaw set determinedly. “I am taking you, and that’s final.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then she noticed something awful. “My reticule!”
“Your reticule?”
“I’ve lost it.”
* * * *
Feeling faint, Emily sank down on her haunches, not caring how it dirtied the beautiful claret-colored gown she’d worked so hard to fashion. Emily’s reticule hadn’t been in the private room and the maid had said they hadn’t found any such item, nor had a thorough search of the coach produced it. The Blue Duck had also proved futile and now they were outside.
Now she had lost John’s precious last dollars. The money she had intended to return to him in the morning.
“I desperately need that money. It belongs to a friend and I need to give it back.”
Alex crouched down beside her, laid his fingers on her cheek and turned her to face him. Moonlight cast appealing shadows over the finely sculpted angles of his face.
“I’ll give you money, if you need it. Let me help you,” he urged, his voice seductively tender.
His blue-gray eyes sparkled, holding her spellbound. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t remember what she had been so upset about.
He was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.
And at the moment, he was staring at her as if she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. That didn’t seem possible. He must have cut his teeth making conquests of all the females around him.
She was totally transfixed by his masculine beauty. She couldn’t even think.
He caressed her skin with his fingertips, his every stroke speaking to her of his skill. It would be no hardship to lie beneath this man and let him have his way. She closed her eyes, unable to keep from leaning in to his touch. His clothing rustled, his boots scraped on the sidewalk, then his breath tickled her face. He smelt of wine and sandalwood and clean masculinity.
The soft touch of his lips on hers sent her pulse racing and every fiber of her being came alive.
Perhaps thinking was overrated.
She let the last of her tension and disquiet go on a sigh.
He moved his hand to slide it upwards along her ribcage, moving ever closer to her breasts. Her nipples pebbled in anticipation.
The sound of boots echoing on the paving stones broke the spell. He pulled away from her and stood, meeting his driver as he approached. The two spoke in low tones, then Alex turned back to her.
“Excuse me for but a moment,” he said.
She sat there, huddled on the sidewalk, transfixed by the graceful movements of his body as he walked with the driver to the street and went to the horse on the left-hand side. Then the two men examined one of the horse’s hooves.
The wind gusted mightily, cutting through her cloak and clothes. The cold seemed to transfer immediately to her bones. Clarity washed over her, dispelling her lustful fascination. All her earlier fears came pounding back upon her.
Money was just money. She’d work something out for the rent.
Home.
She belonged at home, tucked safely up in bed. She had no place here, in the night, seeking to peddle her innocence.
John had been correct—she’d been fooling herself.
She didn’t want to be a whore. There must be something more than mere lust. She didn’t want to give herself to a stranger and have it all mean nothing. Her decision was clear.
Yet look! Just look at how she had completely lost her self-determination and control under the influence of Alexander Dalton’s seductive ways. She couldn’t trust herself with him. Not for one single moment more.
This was her last chance to escape.
She jumped to her feet and took her chance. Picking up her skirts, she flew around the corner and down the alley.
Footfalls echoed loudly in her head, then someone grabbed her from behind. An iron-strong arm latched about her waist.
She screamed and struggled wildly, but to no avail.
“Didn’t think I’d still be around, did you?” A hand clamped over her mouth.
She caught her breath. Oh, Lord. She’d never forget that high-pitched, nasal voice. It was Green.
Horror quaked through her in harsh waves.
He held her fast to his body. “I am going to remove my hand from your mouth. If you scream again, I’ll make you damned sorry. Understand?”
She nodded rapidly.
He lifted his hand, then plunged it roughly down her bodice. She bit her tongue to stifle a scream and the sound came out garbled.
“Hush now, I am not going to harm you. I am just looking for my money.”
His money? Was th
e man completely insane? She drew her breath in, trying to shrink away from his hot, heavy touch as he searched all the folds of the fabric, even pushing his hand into her stays.
“So you spent it already, did you? Never mind, you can pay me back in trade.” He dragged her along behind him.
She pushed against him and tried to dig her feet in and resist his pull. But patches of frozen water on the ground—and God only knew what else—made her slip and flail helplessly against his body.
“It’ll do you not one bit of good to fight.”
His panted words punctuated the movements of his body as he worked to keep hold of her. Punctuating her helplessness. She sagged, exhausted.
He laughed softly. “A little more agreeable now, eh?”
A cold wind blew steadily. He kept moving, dragging her towards an abandoned carriage that sat on the ground, its wheels removed and scattered about.
He paused, breathing heavily for a moment, then he moved closer to her. “Nice and private here, girlie. With that harlot’s mouth of yours, I’d wager you give a devil of a French.”
At his hot breath down her nape, icy spider legs seemed to crawl down her back. Whatever a ‘French’ was, his tone made it sound hideous. A surge of raw energy, a drive to get away, pushed all reason and prudence from her mind. Despite his warning, she began to scream and kick and claw with renewed vigor.
“Damn you, you little cat!” he cried as he tightened his grip upon her with brutal intent.
She gasped at the sensation that he was trying to squeeze the breath from her. Then he loosened his grip as he frantically worked his feet to maintain a foothold on the icy pavement. She pulled away from him and turned but his body came down on hers, knocking her to the ground. She hit the surface with both hands held out. The pavement had broken here, and soft, wet, mossy grass cushioned her fall.
Green’s weight fell onto her legs and he groaned. Still struggling to regain her breath, she glanced over her shoulder and he stared back at her, his eyes gone glassy and his irises seeming to move from side to side. He gripped his middle.
“Oh, God.” He moaned the words. Then his frame was racked by retches.
She cried out and summoned all her strength, then kicked and kicked and kicked until she was free from his helpless form. She got to her feet and ran in the direction of the pale yellow light from the Blue Duck, but dizzy faintness suddenly swirled over her and caused her to lose her footing.
Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle Page 54
