Seduced By His Touch
Page 17
Mercy, what a wanton I’ve become, she decided, wondering what had become of the shy young woman she’d once been. No doubt the poor thing had expired, killed by an excess of carnal bliss at the hands of a thoroughly libidinous scoundrel. A scoundrel she now loved to distraction and couldn’t wait to marry.
Only six more days and she would be his bride. Just six more days and they would be free to share a marriage bed with no further necessity for subterfuge. But for now she would need to content herself with stolen kisses and secret late-night rendezvouses. And really she didn’t mind the intrigue—so long as they didn’t get caught.
When she’d left Jack downstairs forty-five minutes ago, he’d been on his way to play billiards and share a bottle of vintage Scotch with his brothers and a few of the other men. She hoped they didn’t keep him up all night, or else she was in for a very disappointing evening. Then again, Jack had to sleep sometime, so with enough patience, her surprise would still work fine.
Buoyed by the knowledge, she crossed to her door and cracked it open to make sure the corridor was clear. Praying she wouldn’t bump into anyone along the way, she hurried down the hall.
To her relief, she made it inside Jack’s bedchamber without incident. She was even more relieved to find the room empty, his valet nowhere in sight. She’d been prepared to offer the servant some excuse about needing to talk to Jack regarding the wedding, but she was glad to find the precaution unnecessary.
Realizing Jack must have sent the man to his quarters for the evening, she relaxed and strolled deeper into the room. A fire was burning cheerfully in the grate, a few lighted candles illuminating the appealing décor that was done in rich, masculine shades of cream and brown.
Casting about for a place to wait, she stared at the bed.
The big, wide, luxuriously comfortable-looking bed with its plump feather pillows and cocoa-hued satin counterpane.
Obviously, it was the most logical location to wait. Yet even with her newfound confidence, she couldn’t bring herself to walk over and climb in.
Where else then?
There was always the sofa, but that seemed too staid, as though she’d simply come to chat.
By the window then? But no, what if someone glimpsed her shadow through the drapes?
The fireplace? Men were always leaning against one mantelpiece or another, and given her height, she was certainly tall enough to pull off the trick. Yet even thinking about taking up such a pose made her laugh. Then too, she risked being left standing for what might turn from minutes into hours.
No, she needed someplace where she could sit.
His writing desk.
Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of that from the start? Waiting there would be simple, even elegant. And perhaps, if she timed it right, Jack would discover her posing like one of the sensuously clad Grecian goddesses that were so popular these days on vases and urns.
Smirking at her own folly, she strolled over to the desk. As she rounded the corner to pull out the chair, the skirt of her robe flapped open and caught on a slim leather folder resting on top of the desk. Off it flew, the sides fluttering open to unleash a flurry of paperwork into the air.
Oh, stars! She thought, shaking her head at her carelessness. Rushing forward, she bent to gather the documents. She’d collected nearly all of them and was about to tuck them neatly back into place when the sight of her name on one of the pages caught her eye.
…marriage to Grace Lilah Danvers. In exchange, the following terms shall be agreed upon…
It was the settlement, she realized.
Papa told her he’d negotiated the weighty legal document a few weeks ago, assuring her that it more than amply provided for her welfare, and that of any future children she might have. He’d said her interests were safe and secure, and that she had nothing over which to be concerned.
Not that she was in any way concerned. Quite the contrary, since she knew Jack wished only for her happiness.
Once again she was about to slip the page back inside the folder when her gaze caught on something else—a phrase that seemed wholly out of place.
…forgiveness of accrued gambling debts…
Gambling debts?
Scanning backward to locate the beginning of the paragraph, she began to read. Once she was done with that, she forced herself to read more, to read it all, no matter how much each word might hurt.
By the time she finished, her entire body was numb. Dropping to her knees, she closed her eyes and wondered how she was ever going to survive.
The clock chimed two as Jack rounded the landing at the top of the stairs. Covering a yawn with his fist, he made his way down the corridor to his room. He would be glad to climb into bed and get some rest. Then again, he’d be even gladder to climb into Grace’s bed and take his ease with her. But maybe he should let her sleep. Considering the late hour, she must surely have drifted off by now.
Despite his constant desire for her, he supposed a night apart wouldn’t do either of them any harm. In fact, were he any sort of gentleman, he would have left her alone these past few weeks, rather than tempting the fates by taking her to bed as frequently as he could manage.
So far, she hadn’t conceived a child. But every time he was with her was another new chance. Then again, only six days remained until the wedding, so even if he did get her pregnant, who was to know?
Six days, he mused. Six final days of bachelorhood.
Given his previous opinion on the topic of marriage, the idea ought to terrify him. Or at the very least leave him queasy and on the verge of making a wild dash for freedom.
But curiously he felt no such urges. He was…content…even eager for the coming union. He genuinely liked Grace, and, as amazing as it was to admit, he wanted to marry her. Of course, it didn’t hurt knowing their marriage would give him complete access to her body, allowing him to take her whenever, wherever, and as often as he wished to exercise his husbandly prerogatives.
His shaft stirred at the thought, aching in violent anticipation of their approaching honeymoon. He couldn’t wait to get her to himself inside the secluded little cottage he’d chosen for their wedding trip. By the time they left the place, she would be well and thoroughly satisfied, so much so that she would have long ago forgotten what it was like not having him in her several times a day.
Biting back a groan, he shoved open the door to his bedchamber and stalked inside. A quick change into his robe, he decided, and then he was going to her room, where both of them could enjoy the delicious pleasure of having him wake her up.
But as he walked farther into the room, he stopped, his pulse leaping to discover her seated at his desk. “Grace. You’re here.”
“Yes. So I am,” she murmured.
“How long have you been waiting?”
“A while.” She didn’t look at him, nor did she move, not even by so much as the twitch of a finger.
Something’s wrong, he realized, though he couldn’t for the life of him imagine what could have occurred to upset her in the few short hours since dinner. Well, he’d soon find out and have her smiling again. “I must say I’m glad you’re here.” He glanced at the bed, wondering how quickly he could get her in it.
“Are you?” Her voice sounded odd, almost hollow.
“Of course.” He strolled closer. “I can’t think of anything better than an unexpected late-night visit from my beautiful bride-to-be.”
She flinched. “Can you not?”
He stopped and studied her, noting the ashen cast to her cheeks.
“Grace—”
“I did some reading while you were downstairs,” she said, as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Oh?”
“The document was quite…illuminating.”
Document?
Only then did he notice the leather folder lying on the desk a few inches from her hands. Only in that instant did he remember exactly what it contained.
Double hell and damnation! The settlement!
Careless, stupid fool, he cursed himself. But then he’d had no reason to conceal them, since he’d never once imagined she would be here in this room. At least not until after they were married. Generally, single young women weren’t given to visiting their fiancés’ rooms prior to the wedding. On the other hand, Grace was not most single young women, as she continued proving to him each and every day.
“I came to surprise you,” she said in that same hauntingly empty tone. “I wanted to give you one more gift for your birthday. But it seems I’m the one who ended up surprised.”
His stomach churned, aching as though he’d swallowed a handful of rocks. “It’s not what you think—”
Her gaze shot upward, meeting his own for the first time since he’d entered the room. “Is it not? The agreement appeared rather straightforward to me. But then I am only a woman and not privy to the superior machinations of men. Perhaps I don’t have a full understanding of such worldly matters.”
He stifled a groan, giving her full marks for her sarcastic condemnation of himself and her father.
“The one thing I don’t understand, however, is why?” she mused aloud.
“Why?” he repeated with a frown.
“Oh, not why you did it. That much is patently obvious. Clearly you became indebted to my father—at cards, I presume—and as repayment you agreed to take me off his hands. No, what I want to know is why the pretence? Why this…elaborate charade these past few months to make me think there was something more between us than base commerce?”
“It’s not like that, Grace,” he defended. “I…it’s complicated.”
“Complicated? Yes, I’m sure lying constantly would become complicated.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” he said through clenched teeth. “And I haven’t been lying constantly.”
“Only part of the time, then? Was that before or after you met my father? And by that I mean when you first met my father, not that day at the house when we came to ask his blessing on our marriage and you both pretended not to know one another.”
This time, he was the one to flinch. “Fine. I won’t deny it. Your father and I crossed paths one evening over the gaming table, many days before I met you. As for my subsequent pursuit of you, what else would have served?”
“The truth, perhaps?”
“Oh? So if I’d come to you from the start, lain myself bare, and asked you to marry me, you would have said yes?”
She gave him a long, impenetrable stare before lowering her gaze. “No. Of course not.”
“Exactly. Which is why seduction was the only way to win you.”
Closing her eyes, she turned her face away. A small silence fell. “So, did you propose the…arrangement, or did he?” she asked.
Jack clenched his fists at his side and tried to think of some way to explain the bargain he’d made with her father in a manner that wouldn’t just make things worse.
“But of course it was him,” she continued, as she opened her eyes again on a sigh. “You might be an unprincipled libertine, but you’re not a fortune hunter. At least not the common variety, or you’d have been married to some other woman years ago. I’ve seen you play cards, though, my lord. How is it a man of your exceptional talents lost to an amateur like Papa?”
“Bad luck, that’s all.” As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back.
She cringed and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Grace, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s quite all right. I’m sure it must have killed you to agree to this. It must be killing you still. But Papa’s always wanted me to marry well. What better way than to buy me a bona fide lord?”
His jaw tightened as he found himself unable to dispute her claim.
“But I forget,” she continued. “You’re getting a fortune out of it, aren’t you? My dowry, plus another sixty thousand pounds when we wed. And your gaming debt expunged. Just how much do you owe him, anyway?”
For a fleeting moment, he considered refusing to tell her. But the damage was done. What did it matter now? “A hundred thousand pounds.”
She sucked in an astonished breath. “Good God! No wonder you agreed. I’m sure that much money makes even a redheaded giantess like me look attractive.”
“You aren’t unattractive. Quite the contrary. I never lied to you about that. And I like your height. There’s nothing wrong with being tall.”
She looked away again, so he couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.
“Grace, I know you’re upset and angry, and you have every right to be. But let’s talk about this.”
“I think we’ve talked enough already.”
He walked around the desk. “But we haven’t. We can work this out. It’s true, I admit, that I agreed to marry you in order to pay the debt I owe your father. It was unforgivably wrong, and for that I’m sorry. But since I’ve known you, things have changed.”
“What things?”
His voice deepened. “Everything. You weren’t at all what I expected. I liked you, for one.”
“Liked me?” she repeated on a sceptical note. “You liked me so much you were willing to lie, to manipulate and use me for your own gain?”
His gut tightened, her accusation hitting him like a roundhouse punch. “As I said before, I only lied when it was necessary, in order to keep you from knowing about the bargain with your father. Nothing else between us has been false.”
“Nothing else, hmm? So, you honestly enjoy attending lectures about flowers and plants, do you?”
Her question caught him off-stride. “What?”
“Flowers. Remember how you happened upon me that day at the botany lecture in Bath? Did you attend the seminar simply because you wanted to learn more about plants, or were you there to ingratiate yourself to me as part of your plan? Tell me our meeting that day was nothing more than a pure coincidence.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, jumping to her feet. “Do you even know the names of any flowers?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then tell me. Name some. Name one.”
He opened his mouth to reply.
“And not the common name,” she insisted. “I want the genus and species.” Trembling, she reached a hand into her robe and drew out the pendant around her neck. “What about this one? What about these h-hollyhocks?”
He frowned and said nothing. Because he didn’t know. Damn, why don’t I know?
A single tear slid over her cheek as she yanked hard at the chain. The thin gold links bit into her neck and held. But she gave a second vicious tug and it broke free. “Here, take it! I don’t want it! I don’t want to see it ever again!”
When his hands remained at his sides, she flung the pendant onto the desk.
Whirling away, she hurried forward. Her foot twisted beneath her, though, and she stumbled. Instinctively he reached out and caught her. She pulled back as though his hands were made of fire.
“Don’t!” she hissed, wrenching herself out of his hold. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”
“Grace, please—”
But she was gone, running to the door and out into the corridor. He could have followed, but he knew it was no use. She was beyond consoling. And what could he offer her, when he was the cause of her grief?
Hours later, Grace lay awake on her bed, star
ing into the darkness. Mellow orange embers were all that remained of the fire in the grate, while the pair of candles her maid had lighted earlier had sputtered out in squat pools of melted wax.
She hadn’t slept, nor would she that night. How could she rest when her entire world had just come crashing down around her? When everything she’d believed had been violently torn apart?
Sweet Lord, how had everything gone so horribly wrong?
Until a few hours ago, she’d been so happy, so full of joy and anticipation, as she counted the last few days until her wedding.
Wedding, ha! Bondage more like, as she was bartered in trade by the two men she had trusted most. But there was no trust now—her faith, her love, was breached beyond redemption.
As for her father, she wasn’t really surprised by his scheming. He’d never taken pains to conceal his dearest wish that she marry into the ranks of the Ton and, by doing so, further the dynasty he’d worked so long and hard to build. Despite his recent silence on the subject, she ought to have known he would never have given up on his quest. Once her father wanted a thing, he always found a way to make it happen.
Of course, he wanted her “happy” as well, and what better way to see to her comfort and contentment than to find her a man she would like? Someone designed to please her in all ways, whom she could love if she let herself. When he’d chosen Jack Byron, he’d chosen well, finding her a strong man—but more, a gentleman—one he’d instinctively known she would not be able to resist.
And then there was Jack.
A harsh shudder went through her, her eyes squeezing tight against the pain that threatened to slice her in two. Curling on her side, she waited for the worst to pass. Waited until she thought she could keep from crying aloud and shaming herself should someone happen to hear. But thankfully, the household was asleep, so her agony was hers to bear alone.
How amused he must have been all these weeks, watching her fall so easily beneath his spell, she thought. The towering, twenty-five-year-old spinster, who’d toppled into his waiting hands like a ripe piece of fruit. But then any woman would topple into his hands; he had only to beckon the one he desired most.