The Seducer

by Madeline Hunter

  Diane watched from behind a tree. The concern in his eyes increased her confusion and undermined her resolve. Whoever thought she would see the day when Daniel St. John appeared worried.

  He stopped where Jeanette had told her to be, where the lake was framed by yellow flowers. When he did not see her, he peered down at the water and waited.

  Her bruised heart fluttered. He appeared so handsome. Great care had been taken with his appearance. His cravat was tied to perfection, and looked suitable for a portrait sitting. His boots shined in the morning sun, making the droplets of moisture on them sparkle like diamonds. He even carried a hat, which he moved from hand to hand as if he did not know where to put it. She suspected that his valet had been both delighted and undone by the sudden fastidiousness.

  She was not sure why she had come. It had been an impulsive decision. Jeanette’s revelations explained Daniel’s actions, but that was not the same as excusing them. Her heart could not absolve him completely, much as it ached to.

  Perhaps it would be better to slip away, or just wait until he tired and left himself.

  Without knowing why she did so, she stepped silently from behind the tree. His body stilled as he sensed her presence. He held the pose for a five count before turning around.

  She wondered what he had been suppressing during that little pause. Relief? Anger?

  “Jeanette said you might be here this morning. She thought that you might agree to speak with me.”

  “I am here, although I am not sure why.”

  “Whatever the reason, I am grateful.”

  Daniel St. John, grateful? She wanted to believe that, but a new wariness, one that made her feel old and jaded, kept her cautious.

  “And I am thankful that you did not try to force me to come back.”

  “I almost did. I think that I may have, eventually.”

  She did not miss the implications of that. He still might, eventually. At least he was honest and did not claim an equanimity about this that was not true.

  “Jeanette told me about Tyndale and what he did to her. She explained why you intended to use me to get to him.”

  “I can only ask your forgiveness for that. I know that I have no right to expect it.”

  “I think that I understand. You had a goal and I was the means to achieve it. I was merely a lure, and not in danger. My role was a small thing compared to the luxury and comforts I received.”

  “Yes.”

  “You waited a long time to have your revenge. Years, it seems.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it your only purpose in life? Does it own your soul?” It blurted out, revealing the pain that wanted to break her heart, and the suspicion that had grown all night. Is there room for nothing else, not even me? Was it only passion and pity that you gave me?

  “Why don’t we let heaven and hell judge my soul.” Annoyed, he looked to the ground for a moment, and then into her eyes. Fires that she knew and feared had flared. The Devil Man had emerged, called forth by her questions.

  “My sister told you too much, but still not everything. Tyndale’s crime with her was actually the least of it.”

  “I’d say it was great enough. I understand your hatred of him.”

  “You are incapable of comprehending my hatred of him. You are too good.”

  “Not so good. Not so innocent anymore, either. Two days ago I hated you a little, so I have even begun to learn about that emotion, just as I have learned about love. Perhaps you should trust me to understand. It is why you came, isn’t it?”

  “I am not sure why I came. Probably in the hopes of seeing something on your face besides the disillusionment it wore when you ran away in Hampstead. I cannot bear to have that be my last image of your looking at me.”

  The sad way he said that touched her. She went to him and gazed up into his eyes. He would not see disillusionment. Her reactions had become more complex and confused than that.

  “You could have told me, Daniel. It would have been less of a shock then. If the confidence had come from you, my feelings for you may have conquered my dismay.”

  “I almost did, several times. I intended to.

  But something had stopped him. “Perhaps it is time to do so now. Jeanette said there is more.”

  He looked to the water again. “I am not accustomed to speaking of it. You know my sins, or most of them. The rest does not reflect on me too much.”

  “I suspect that the rest reflects on you a great deal. You will always be a mystery, Daniel. I think that a man like you is never really known. However, this mystery is one I cannot let continue, unless keeping it is more important to you than I am.”

  He nodded, and breathed a sigh of resignation. “Tyndale was supposed to use the money and jewels that my sister brought to England to smuggle my family and others out of France. It was a good plan, his own, neatly worked out and sold to desperate people. Others helped him, but it was his idea.”

  “So your sister said. And you came to England, but he kept her from your family.”

  “That is not how it happened. Tyndale took everything, kept it, and abandoned thirty people to their fates. We waited on a strip of coast for the ship that would save us, and it never came. Instead the French army arrived, and almost all of those helpless people were taken.” His jaw clenched. “I was a boy, but I remember it clearly. Every detail. I dream about it. I see the faces, hopeful and waiting, and then in despair. The guillotine waited for most of them.”

  Unlike Jeanette, he did not tell his story calmly. He snarled it, as if the pageant of betrayal played out in his head as he spoke.

  “Were you taken with them?”

  “I was with Louis, away from the others when the army came. We watched it all happen and then made our way back to Paris to see if my parents had been released. My father had been, but he was a broken man, his mind gone. My mother—”

  He abruptly turned his gaze to the pond, looking over its water with that expression of intense distraction.

  She stepped closer until her body almost touched his. For the first time she saw the pain flickering behind that veiled expression. It broke her heart, so completely did she absorb the anguish.

  The pain had always been there. She had been blind, that was all. She had only seen the face he showed the world and not the emotions that the mask hid.

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died.”

  “How?”

  His jaw tightened. “My mother came from a family targeted by some revolutionaries. It had not mattered earlier, but then, during the terror—” He glanced at her, then away quickly, as if facing another person would make the revelation too hard. “She was executed. I walked beside her cart, although Louis tried to stop me. I was the last thing she saw before they tied her to that plank and tilted her to the blade.”

  She had stopped breathing and now gasped deeply so she would not swoon.

  He had watched. A child, he had watched it all.

  “She had nothing to do with any of it,” he said bitterly. “But the country had become mad for blood, and she had the wrong name. It was that simple, that merciless.” He looked at her again. “I still see faces. The ugly faces of the crowd, eager to see one more head drop. The bored faces of the executioners. Her face, her terror at the end—yes, avenging that, and my sister, and all that happened, owns my soul. It has been the only purpose in my life.” He snapped the declaration so crisply that it rang like an oath.

  “No wonder you did not hesitate to ruin a man at cards, to procure his wealth, or to use me as a lure. I don’t think I can blame you for any of it. After such a betrayal, and such a horrible result, I understand how the goal is more important than anything else.”

  The anger and bitterness disappeared with her words, as if she had called him back from another place. His face softened so much that he appeared boyish. He took her hand in his. “Not more important than you. It astonished me to realize that you mattered more.”

&nb
sp; “I think that you always reach your goals, Daniel.”

  “Not this one, I think. Nor will you ever be the means to achieve it now.”

  “I am not sure I believe that.”

  “So my sister said. She told me you suspect that I married you in order to have an even better cause to challenge Tyndale later, when he continues pursuing you. You are wrong. That is not why I married you.”

  “I do not expect you to admit such a thing.”

  “Then do not take the word of your husband, but that of the man you now know I am. Tyndale has no interest in married women. When I took your innocence, I destroyed his fascination with you.”

  “So, for a few moments of passion you ruined a great plan. No wonder you resisted me so well. I seduced you into a very bad bargain, didn’t I?”

  “It was the best bargain of my life, darling.”

  “No, it was not. What I offer cannot stand against the emotions bred by years of anger. I think that with time you will resent me for it.” Suddenly she realized the truth of something. “The silence that first night, after . . . you were already resenting me then, weren’t you?”

  He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “Yes.”

  She had not expected that word. That honesty. It stripped away her defenses as nothing else could.

  “Look at what is between us, Daniel. Deception and mysteries. You ruined my father, left me orphaned, and now I have interfered with your dark dream.”

  “I cannot excuse the deceptions, Diane. I can only promise you that I do not regret the interference.”

  “Truly? This must be a heavy burden. Can you live with it unresolved?”

  “I think that I can live with anything if you are with me.” He kissed her hand again. “I want you to come home. Now. Say that you will.”

  His closeness, his lips on her skin and his warm breath fluttering over her hand, made her dizzy. Just his presence lured her, as it always had. She sensed that he had turned the full force of his magnetism on her, deliberately and shamelessly.

  She almost succumbed. Her love responded to all the parts of him that she knew to be good. But the mystery and darkness had a reason and purpose now, and could not be ignored. It excited her before and still did, but she recognized the danger in it for her love and her happiness.

  “Daniel, can you abandon the revenge that you seek? Is having me so important that you will do that?”

  “Is it the price you demand?”

  “I am not sure that I can live with it as you have, knowing it is always in you now.”

  “It is not always in me. Not anymore. When I am with you it goes away. With time, it will become a small thing.”

  “Or perhaps not. Maybe someday I will awake to find you gone, and learn that you died in a duel with him, that you finally had your accounting.”

  She imagined that morning. She imagined waiting for it, year in and year out, and watching the distraction in his eyes that said the day would come eventually. “I do not think that you want it to become a small thing either. Not really. So, yes, I am afraid that it is the price of having me with you.”

  The ultimatum angered him. She expected him to deny her, and stride away. For a long pause there were no sounds or sights around them, just Daniel weighing and deciding as his lips pressed the skin of her hand.

  Her heart beat painfully. She did not want him to walk away. Her breath caught as she comprehended just how big a choice she had given him.

  His arm moved to surround her waist. He pulled her to him, so their bodies touched. Other visitors now strolled near the lake, but he did not care if they were seen.

  Her breath turned ragged, as if she were being crushed even though he held her gently. Panic beat lowly in her chest. She knew her good sense would be no match for her soul’s desire to believe anything he told her.

  “I do want it to become a small thing, darling. I never thought that I would. I assumed there would be nothing to replace it. I have learned that is not so.” He kissed her sweetly, as a boy might a girl. “Come home with me. Lie in my arms, and let us build a future together. We will discard the past. If you are with me, I can give it up. For you I can. If it is the price of having you, I will.”

  His belief in her left her trembling and afraid. She was not sure her love could replace the hatred. It was inconceivable that she had such power. It was impossible that he wanted her enough to discard the purpose of his life.

  He raised one hand in a beckoning gesture while he kissed her again, deeply. His hold became an embrace. In her daze she vaguely heard the sounds of a carriage slowly approaching and the tsk of a woman strolling by.

  His kiss led her into euphoria. His promise dislodged her worries and she released them gratefully. He was right. They could build a future together. She could forget what he had done and make him happy, so that he never wanted to finish this long quest. Of course she could. They could. His kisses said so. His embrace demanded it. She was his and nothing else mattered.

  He turned her in his arm and guided her to the carriage. She did not hesitate to enter it. Her soul wanted to believe everything he said. Love left her weak-kneed. Physical desire had begun its focused pulse.

  The carriage door closed. He lifted her onto his lap and wrapped her into an embrace that pulled her close. He neither kissed nor caressed her as the carriage moved. He merely grasped her to him, his breath warming her temple, his firm hands permitting no release.

  The slow, silent ride excited her. She needed no demonstration to know how much he wanted her. It was in the air and in his silence. She could feel it in the tautness of his body and in the steady rhythm of his heart.

  She glanced up at him. His expression said where his thoughts were, no matter what restraint he showed. Anticipation enlivened her body more than a hundred caresses. The mix of sensual arousal and emotional intimacy made her heady. Whoever thought that confidences and quiet silence could create such a powerful seduction.

  Seduction. The word caused a little flash of reason to penetrate her stupor of excitement.

  He had offered her exactly what she wanted. He had seduced her back by giving her what she craved most—the promise of himself.

  No servant opened the door. No sounds came from the chambers. Daniel led her inside by the hand, as if guiding her to a place she had never been before.

  “Is everyone gone?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Only out of sight?” He had given instructions on this. He had wanted to spare her any ceremony or embarrassment when she returned to him.

  He had also assumed that she would be coming back.

  His embrace inside the entry insured she did not mind his confidence too much. The memory of his face as he waited for her at the pond said he had not been truly confident at all.

  His possessive kiss gave expression to the hunger that had made the ride slow and sensual.

  “Do not leave me again,” he muttered between kisses as he held her face in his hands. She heard a plea below the command.

  Suddenly she was cradled in his arms, moving up the stairs through a blur of lights and shadows.

  His instructions had been obeyed. They met no one in the house. He would not have cared if they had.

  He carried her to the bedroom. Only there would he be able to fill the ghastly void inside him that his promise had carved.

  The chamber’s draperies and shutters had been closed, sealing it from the city. He kicked the door closed. His blood raged and he wanted to lay her down and tear off her clothes and bury the hungers roaring within him.

  Acknowledging their violence made him pause. If he followed those impulses, she might misunderstand. Nor could he explain what was in him. He only knew that it was not physical. Mere sexual arousal would never create this kind of need.

  Her arms still encircled his neck. Amusement entered her eyes. “Are you inclined to ravish me?”

  “Yes.”

  She glanced to the bed and then up at him quizz
ically. “You have changed your mind?”

  He laid her down. “Today deserves better.” He flipped her and released the tapes on her gown. Sitting beside her, he worked at her corset’s lacing.

  She looked so lovely, lying there in the cool, filtered light. Her skin seemed paler, her eyes darker. The unlacing aroused her. He could tell that from the way her lids lowered, and he felt it in her body’s subtle flexing.

  He caressed her back through the thin chemise and traced the same path with kisses. Containing his desire was not easy, but this patient path gave the maddening urge a special power.

  His slow kisses reached her shoulder and nape. “Wanting you, especially now, is about more than pleasure.” She deserved to know that, especially since he did not trust that his behavior would prove it. “I do not want you to think that I am only reclaiming my rights as a husband here.”

  She rolled onto her back. “You have never made me think it was only that. Even the first time. That is what frightened me.”

  And later, when he was cold, that was what devastated her.

  “It is never only pleasure with me, either.” She spoke reassuringly, as if she worried he did not know that. “I do not think it ever could be.” She smiled. “It is a good thing that you want me and I want you, because I do not think I could ever be a Margot.”

  He traced the sloping line of her loose gown’s edge. “It is good to hear you say that.”

  “That I could never be a courtesan or mistress?”

  “That you want me.”

  “You doubted it? I told you that I love you.”

  “For women there can be love without desire.”

  “You surely can tell. When we are together—”

  “I can make you feel pleasure, but that is also a separate thing.”

  “I came to you that first night.”

  “You had an ulterior motive.”

  Glints of understanding entered her eyes. “I have no ulterior motive today.” She scooted off the bed, pulling her disheveled garments around her.