Jane wrapped her arms about her waist, stepping back as if knowing he would not hesitate to pull her back into his arms if the urge should take him.
“I . . . I wish you would not tease me so, Hellion. It is not at all kind.”
His smile faded as he slowly realized that he had unwittingly struck her most vulnerable wound. Despite her rare intelligence and independent spirit, she possessed an unrelenting lack of confidence in her ability to attract the attentions of a gentleman. A lack of confidence that had only been reinforced by the pathetic dandies she had encountered since arriving in London.
“For such a very clever woman you are being excessively dense, my lovely shrew,” he said with a gentle smile. “I think it should be obvious by now that I am not teasing. Indeed, I am attempting to woo you in the prescribed manner. Clearly with a ghastly lack of talent.”
Her frown only deepened. “That is absurd.”
Unable to help himself, Hellion reached out to touch a soft curl that lay against her temple. He was deeply thankful that Jane was not a shallow flirt. The sort who was well aware of her beauty and used it as a means of manipulating those about them. The mere thought was enough to make him shudder in horror. Still, he was beginning to suspect her refusal to accept the depth of her own delightful charm was bound to try his patience to the fullest.
“I must say you are rather brutal upon a gentleman’s pride, my sweet. I will admit to having little experience in the arts of courtship but surely I cannot be making such a hash of it?”
“This is absurd. Why would you court me? I have already given you the money I promised.”
Hellion was caught off guard by the fierce flare of anger that raced through him. “Do not do that.”
She blinked at his harsh tone. “I beg your pardon?”
He grasped her chin in firm fingers and sternly glared into her wide gaze. “I will readily accept any insults that you might decide to hurl in my direction. Most are no doubt well earned. I will not, however, allow you to insult yourself.”
“Sir . . .”
“No,” he ruthlessly overrode her instinctive protest. “I do not know what maggot you have gotten into your head to believe that your only allure is that of your fortune, but allow me to tell you that while many frivolous gentlemen might seek shallow beauty and brittle charm, there are a rare few of us with enough intelligence to prefer those maidens of genuine wit and steady temperament. We are also, surprisingly enough, wise enough to recognize genuine worth from amongst the dross.”
That aggravating disbelief refused to be shaken. If anything her wariness only deepened as she fiercely studied his somber expression.
“You are saying that you wish to court me?” she demanded in abrupt tones.
“That is the traditional means of acquiring a bride, I believe.”
“A . . . bride?”
“I desire to wed you. Is that so shocking?”
“Saints above, of course it is.”
“Why?”
She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Well to begin with, you have no desire to wed. I heard the words from your lips. You said that you had no intention of becoming leg-shackled to any female.”
Hellion swallowed a sigh. Damn it all. It was bad enough to have his rakish reputation hanging about his neck like a yoke without also having Jane acutely aware of his long-held distaste for marriage. His uphill battle to convince her of his sincerity became even more slippery.
“That was true enough until I encountered a stubborn, sharp-tongued, utterly desirable shrew,” he murmured in seductive tones. With considerable care he allowed his fingers to leave the stubborn chin to stroke over the softness of her cheek. “Now it does not seem nearly so unbearable. Indeed, the notion holds such temptation I can no longer resist.”
He thought that the blue eyes darkened with a hint of longing, but before he could take any hope from the brief glimpse into her heart, Jane was abruptly stepping from his light touch.
“No,” she breathed in a harsh tone.
“What?”
“I do not believe you.”
Hellion allowed a slow, wicked smile to curve his lips. About him the warm scent of roses and the enticing moonlight added the perfect atmosphere for romance. He took a step closer, his entire body humming with a smoldering excitement.
“Well, I am quite prepared to convince you of my sincerity, my sweet. In truth, I can think of little that will bring me more pleasure.”
Easily sensing his barely leashed passions she took another hasty step backward, nearly tumbling over a nearby rosebush.
“Hellion. Stop this at once.”
He smiled wryly. So much for a swift, painless seduction. Romance might be in the air, but Jane’s reaction appeared closer to panic than delight.
Planting his hands upon his hips he regarded her with a stern expression. Whatever her reluctance she would not be allowed to leave this garden believing he was anything but fully determined to win her hand.
“You are going to be my wife, you know,” he said in tones that revealed the depth of his conviction. “Oh, you might protest and attempt to deceive yourself that I am not the one gentleman in all of London that is perfectly suited to be your husband. After all, I am not a comfortable, easily swayed man. Nor will I settle for a relationship of mere friendship. I desire you too much for that. But in the end you will accept that I can bring you far greater happiness than any other.”
She paled at his blunt honesty. Almost as if she feared his stark declaration.
“I . . . I must return to the ballroom,” she at last muttered.
He instinctively opened his mouth to insist that she accept the truth of her inevitable future. She might be stubborn, but not even she could hope to resist his determination. But the air of restless tension that shimmered about her taut form held the impulsive words.
Perhaps it would be for the best to allow her time to adjust to the knowledge she was to become his wife, he reluctantly concluded.
His body gave a sharp pang of protest at the thought. The decidedly male desire to conquer and possess had no comprehension of the virtues of patience.
“I will escort you.”
“No.” She gave a violent shake of her head as she stumbled farther down the path. “That is not necessary.”
Hellion’s brows snapped together. “I am well aware that it is not necessary. It is simply what I wish to do.”
She swallowed heavily. “Hellion, please. I wish to be alone.”
He muttered a curse as he leashed his darker desires. Soon enough she would be his. Heart, soul, and body. Then he would sate himself in her temptation until both of them were fully satisfied.
“Very well.” He met her gaze squarely. “But do not believe that you can escape me for long, my sweet. Your fate was decided that first night you approached me with your wicked bargain. You are mine.”
Her eyes widened, but with that staunch courage he could not help but admire, the woman forced herself to gather her badly rattled composure about her and with only the faintest tremble in her step turned to sweep up the path toward the ballroom.
With a small smile Hellion allowed her to escape. As he had warned, there was nowhere she could go that he would not follow. Not now. He had chosen her as his bride. The future was settled whether she was willing to accept the truth or not.
Anna choked back a small groan as the deceptively experienced Biddles nibbled his way down the arch of her throat.
This was not the reason she had followed Lord Bidwell, she fuzzily attempted to assure herself. She had known from the moment he had disappeared into the library that he was up to something nefarious. Not that he wasn’t up to something nefarious almost every moment, she silently conceded. But this appeared more nefarious than usual.
And her suspicions had only been confirmed when she had witnessed the portly gentleman entering the library and remaining for several long moments.
What possible interest could a gentleman of Lord Bidwell�
��s social standing have with a man who was well known to dabble in trade and barely clung to the fringes of society?
Was he simply slumming? Or had he cleverly ensured he would encounter the man because he was well known to have been acquainted with Mr. Middleton?
She knew she had to slip close enough to overhear what was being said. Even at the risk of being caught by the unnervingly clever rogue.
It had all seemed quite reasonable. Quite necessary, in fact.
Until the moment that she had been gathered in strong, demanding arms and knowing lips had covered her mouth in a kiss that threatened to steal every wit she claimed to possess.
It was then, when pleasure was coursing through her and her knees were trembling, that she had to reluctantly confront the notion that it might not have been entirely selfless motives that had led her to stalk the flamboyant gentleman. Or why she had remained when it was obvious the impromptu meeting was at an end.
Some sneaking, weasely part of her had hoped that this was precisely what would occur when she had snuck down the hall and lingered in the shadows. A part that had slyly remained hidden until too late.
Now she desperately battled the fierce urge to simply close her eyes and allow this gentleman to continue with his delightful seduction.
“No,” she whispered softly. “No.”
Ever so gently he nibbled the line of her collarbone. “Yes, yes.”
“Lord Bidwell . . .”
“Biddles,” he breathed against her sensitive skin. “Or Horatio, if you prefer.”
A warm tension was building deep within her. A distracting, delicious tension that seemed directly connected to the lips that relentlessly explored down to the curve of her breast.
“What I prefer is that you release me,” she forced herself to mutter.
“No, that is perhaps what you should prefer,” he mocked softly, his breath sending a rash of excitement over her prickling skin. “But I hear the beat of your heart and feel the heat of passion that flushes your satin skin. You cannot hide the truth from me.”
Nor could she hide it from herself.
She was drowning in sensations she was incapable of controlling. All too soon she would be beyond sense. Her only hope was a cowardly retreat. And the sooner the better.
Unfortunately she did not believe that Biddles would readily allow her to flee. Not when he must be aware how very close she was to surrender.
Clearly a distraction was in order.
“What were you doing in this library?” she asked, at last managing to launch an attack. “Waiting for Mr. Newton so you could question him about Jane?”
Anna sensed her seducer stiffen with a mixture of relief and unmistakable regret. The ploy had worked. Her virtue appeared to be saved.
Damn.
Pulling back, Biddles regarded her with an oddly tender smile. “Very clever, my sweet Anna, but one of these days you are going to forget to halt me.”
Anna sucked in a sharp breath. Blast but it would be lovely to toss the smug claim back into his face. She was no silly widgeon who could have her head turned by every gentleman who revealed the slightest interest in her. Oh no. She was wise and clever and all too aware of the dangerous games such rakes enjoyed playing.
Unfortunately she was also far too honest to even consider such a ridiculous ploy.
They both knew she was playing with fire. And that it would take only one moment of weakness for disaster to occur.
More shaken than she cared to admit, she silently slipped from the warmth of his arms and forced her heavy feet to carry her to the waiting ballroom.
CHAPTER TEN
From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 18th, 1814:
Dear Diary,
I suppose every maiden dreams of the moment when a gentleman might fulfill her fantasy and propose marriage to her.
Even dull, practical wallflowers who should be too sensible for such nonsense.
In my daydreams I imagined a rather small, kindly suitor much like my father. Bending on one knee he would offer a lovely bouquet of violets. He would be nervous, perhaps even stumble and stammer as he spoke of his wish to have me as his bride, but his eyes . . . oh, his sweet eyes would glow with the love he sheltered in his heart.
Never in all my life would I have ever imagined my first, and perhaps last, proposal would come more as a command than a request. Certainly I could never have guessed that the gentleman in question would be a large, sinfully handsome rake who could have his pick of women. Nor that the glow in his eyes would have nothing to do with love and yet would send dark demons and wicked need racing through my blood.
“Marry you? Hellion?” Anna sputtered out the tea she had just sipped and regarded Jane with blatant disbelief.
“Yes.”
“Hellion desires to marry you?”
Standing beside the window of the library Jane smiled wryly. She could not blame her friend for appearing shocked. Even dumbfounded. After all, only a loon would ever suspect the Ton’s most elusive, most sought-after bachelor would propose marriage to a plain, eccentric wallflower. And Anna most certainly was not a loon.
Still, she could not deny a small prick of wounded pride.
It was not as if she were entirely repulsive, she told herself. Or witless. Or upon her last prayer. Indeed, some might say she was intelligent, well tempered, and tidy. She even possessed all her own teeth.
What more could a gentleman desire?
Jane gave a sudden chuckle. She knew very well that most gentlemen desired a great deal more. Beauty, breeding, and of course, luscious curves. Her charms were unfortunately meager when compared with other maidens. Regardless of whether she possessed all her own teeth or not.
“’Tis shocking, is it not?”
“It is . . . unbelievable.” Setting aside her teacup, Anna gave a slow shake of her head. “Truly, utterly unbelievable.”
“Yes . . .”
“Hellion?”
“Hellion.”
“Married to you?”
“Married to me.”
“Good heavens.”
“I believe that we have adequately determined that his offer of marriage to an aging wallflower is a shocking thing.”
As if suddenly realizing she was being less than complimentary to her friend, Anna offered a rueful grimace.
“Oh, it is not his offer of marriage to you I find so amazing. I mean any gentleman of sense would far prefer you to those horrid, simpering chits that fill the ballrooms. It is his offer of marriage to any woman,” she hurriedly explained. “I would have wagered my aunt’s ruby tiara that the man was a confirmed rake and rogue.”
Jane absently leaned against the window, recalling her brief encounter with Hellion in the garden. It was a memory that had haunted and plagued her throughout the long, sleepless night.
“He is a rake and rogue.” She folded her arms about her waist. “No doubt the most accomplished in all of England.”
“And yet . . . he desires to make you his wife.”
Wife. A terrible thrill of pleasure raced through Jane before she was sternly squashing the sensation. It was precisely those unfamiliar tingles, flutters, and palpitations that made her so wary of Hellion, she reminded herself. No woman could think in a sensible manner when her nerves were quivering and her heart thumping about with excitement.
“That is what he claims,” she murmured.
“Claims?” Anna slowly rose to her feet. “What do you mean? Do you believe his proposal a jest?”
“In truth, I do not know what to believe, Anna.”
“Well, what did he say?”
Jane paused only for a moment before relating the baffling, disturbing encounter in the garden. Oh, not the bit about the drugging kisses and skillful caresses. Some intimacies were too private to share even with her best friend.
When at last she fell silent Anna gave a disbelieving laugh.
“Well, it does not seem as if he were jesting. Indeed I would say he is quite determi
ned to have you as his wife.”
Jane was not at all comforted by her friend’s words. In some ways it would be easier to presume that Hellion had merely been playing a poor jest than to consider the notion that he intended to press a courtship upon her.
“But why?”
Anna gave a small lift of her hands. “Could it not be because he cares for you and knows that you will bring him happiness?”
With a sigh Jane wrapped her arms about her waist. “That is the trouble, is it not?”
“What do you mean?”
“How does a woman ever know what is in a gentleman’s heart? How does she know if his regard is sincere or if he seeks to deceive her?”
A startling dry smile abruptly twisted her friend’s soft lips. “You ask your questions of the wrong woman, Jane. All I know of gentlemen is that they were placed on this earth to vex and plague poor females.”
Jane wrinkled her nose in rueful agreement. “True enough.”
There was a short pause before Anna slowly walked to stand before Jane with a somber expression.
“What is it you fear, Jane?”
Jane took a moment before she gave a restless shrug. “I do not understand Hellion’s motives. He could possess any woman he desired. Why would he wish to marry me?”
“Does it matter?” Anna reached out to gently touch her arm. “You came to London to discover a husband, and now you have managed to interest the most elusive catch of the town. Why quibble over motives?”
The quiet words took Jane by surprise and she discovered herself regarding her friend with wide eyes.
“That should be obvious.”
“You are not attracted to him?”
Jane gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “A woman would have to be in her grave not to be attracted to Hellion. Which is precisely the point.”
“What?”
“Only a fool would desire a rake as a husband,” she retorted in what she could only hope were firm tones. “I came to London to discover a gentleman who can share my life in Surrey. Someone who is interested in handling the estate and sharing my love for business. Most of all I desire someone who will care for me enough to begin a family.”
Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) Page 14
