The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane

by Amanda McIntyre

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed from the chair and walked to her. He admired her soft cap of chestnut-colored hair, worn in deep waves that framed her beautiful face. Her luminous blue eyes held his as he reached out to brush an errant lock from her forehead. “My dearest Jane. “I want no more secrets between us.”

  “Yet you still wear a mask.”

  He peeled off the mask and tossed it on the floor. “There. Now you know.” Randolph felt a partial weight lifted from his shoulders. “Ask your questions.” He swallowed. “But whatever they may be, whatever my answers, know that for the first time in my life, I am able to be who I really am—with you.”

  Her silent evaluation was killing him. Better that she would rant or, call him names—that he deserved. She had to be repulsed. And why not? It was one thing to dabble in deviant behavior. But to live a double life—pretending to uphold what is good, while partaking in this sordid carnal decadence? Unable to meet her eyes, to imagine her disgust as she absorbed the truth, he walked to the window and drew back the curtain. The thick, yellow fog had swallowed the city.

  “I’m sure this comes as quite a shock to discover that a man of the law, dedicated to doing what is right, could engage in such shameful behavior.” He dropped the curtain and headed straight to the solace of his decanter.

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Why what, Jane? If I knew the answer, do you think we’d be standing here, in this place, having this conversation?” Had she not determined yet that this was no place for a woman like her? His hand shook as he poured, missing the edge of the glass and splashing liquid over the edges. “You should go, Jane. Leave and never return. Please, I throw myself on your mercy that you spare me what little honor…what little pride, I have left.” He lifted the drink to his lips, but her hand intercepted it.

  “I never took you for a coward,” she said, downing the drink he’d poured. Her blues eyes watered and she turned away coughing as the fiery liquid no doubt burned her throat. Guilt and anger battled inside him. She was right. When it came to her, he was a coward.

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Jane.”

  “Do you think you shock me, inspector? Do you think my delicate mind cannot understand passion or the reasons that drive us to what we need? Not everyone is content with the missionary style, inspector.”

  Oh, God. He shook his head. “Don’t…don’t say such things. Don’t patronize me. I have enough guilt for a lifetime to punish me, without taking on yours.”

  “I have no wish to punish you, Randolph. Although I should. You haven’t been honest with me.”

  He glanced down at her hand covering his forearm. “And you have not been honest with me,” he said, swallowing hard as he met her blue-eyed gaze.

  She lifted her hand and softly touched his cheek. He closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. A strange array of emotions invaded his soul—a soul that, until he met her, he didn’t think he possessed.

  “If this is a night of confessions,” she said. “Then it appears we have both sinned

  Dispensing with the mask filled him with unspeakable freedom and yet he feared the darkness coiled, like a sleeping dragon inside him. “No, Jane. It is more than absolution I need. I—I have no control of this…this black lust living inside me. I have given it free rein for so long, fed it what it wanted. I am dazed by its power...sickened by it, after. I cannot…I will not…subject you to that.”

  “I told you once I wasn’t afraid.” She began to unfasten his cravat.

  He caught her wrists. His father’s stern voice echoed in his brain. “You’re worthless, a mama’s boy. You’ll never amount to anything.” Slowly, the wall he’d resolutely constructed closed in around him, cutting off his emotions. His grip tightened. He wasn’t worthy of her, and he sure as hell didn’t need her pity. “You should leave…now, Jane.” He released his hold.

  She stood her ground and grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands. “I’m afraid I can’t, Randolph. You haven’t answered my question.”

  The warmth of her skin seeped through his shirt, rousing the sleeping darkness inside him. “What. Is. Your. Question.” He risked lifting his eyes to hers, seeing there a fiery determination that matched his own.

  She cupped his face, brushing her lips over his mouth, and drew him close to whisper in his ear. “Will you not finish what you started the last time two times that I allowed you to take advantage of me?”

  Heat slammed into his body. He shut his eyes against the powerful lust seeking to overcome him. He’d lived his life being in charge, giving orders, getting what he wanted, when he wanted. He stroked the curve of her throat, his fingertips tingling as they skimmed along the creamy swells of her flesh offered up to him in that dress. Patience was a foreign notion when it came to pleasure. No, he would have no problem appeasing her desire, but could he place her needs above his own?

  “Are you aware of what you’re asking?” His body trembled with need. “What do you want from me, Jane?”

  “I want to know why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” She stroked his face, regarding him with compassion in her eyes that he didn’t feel he deserved. He looked away, made guilty by the ease of her honesty.

  “I—I couldn’t risk others finding out.” He backed away from her intimate touch that clouded his thoughts, torn between the shame and lust battling inside him. “I’m a man of the law, Jane. People look up to me, expect…certain things from me.”

  “Why must you hide behind this façade?” she asked softly. “What happened to you?”

  Her gentle voice hinted of pity, and that infuriated him. How stupid he’d been to think she wouldn’t ask questions. It was none of her business. She had no right to ask about his past. “It’s too complicated,” he tried to reason, pushing away his frustration. This was his life—he didn’t want her dragged into his private hell. “I’m not entirely sure of the kind of man it has made me.” He shook his head, regretting that he’d not let things be as they were. He rested his hand against the bedpost, wondering how he was going to remove himself from the mess he’d created. “Go away, Jane. This was a mistake. It was wrong of me to say anything, to believe that you could….” He stared at the floor. “I was wrong,” he finished, waiting for her to leave, hoping to spare her the cost of loving him.

  “My apologies, Mr. Mansfield. It seems I was mistaken about you. I viewed you as fearless, but the truth is what you’re most afraid of, isn’t it? For whatever reasons, you choose to keep your bitterness buried inside. And it has festered, causing your heart to go rancid.”

  “Bloody hell, I wasn’t always this way, you know.”

  “So you say,” she said with a shrug. “But how do I know that you aren’t fabricating another lie to hide behind?”

  “You don’t know me,” he said between clenched teeth. “Don’t think you can dissect me, Jane. I am not one of your bloody journalistic conquests.”

  “It appears no one knows the real you, inspector. While you hide behind your mask to justify your behavior, the truth is quite simple. You refuse to face the demons inside you, and that is what makes you a coward.”

  He spun on his heel, seething with rage, and was upon her in two quick strides. In anger, he yanked her to him and crushed his mouth to hers. Scooping her into his arms, he tossed her on the bed and unfastened his waistcoat.

  She struggled to her knees attempting to escape the bed, and he pushed her to her back. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Jane? To see what I’m really like?” He pinned her shoulders to the bed, hovering over her.

  She fought him, and he relented, allowing her to push him away. He backed off the bed, his shirt hanging open, disgust for himself coursing through him. At least she’d come to her senses. “Go away, Jane. Now, while you have the chance.”

  Her blue eyes were ablaze. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She wrestled herself from the bed and stood before him, her fists planted on her hips. “My leaving would give you yet another re
ason to slink back into your darkness, to brood about the past, to tell yourself that you don’t deserve to be happy.” She poked her finger at his chest. “You underestimate me, inspector. You think you can intimidate me with your bullying tactics. Apparently, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” He looked down at her, so frail and small beside him.

  “Am I?” She boldly held his gaze as she pulled her gown down over her shoulders and skimmed it over her hips. She stepped free, brushing the fabric away with her foot.

  Randolph’s breath caught in his throat. She had worn nothing at all under the gown “Don’t, Jane,” he cautioned. His fingers itched to touch her velvety skin, to lay her down in his bed and explore every inch of her.

  “Pleasure, inspector. Simple. Uncomplicated. Isn’t that all you want?” Isn’t that all you care about?”

  “So be it, Jane. I will have you this night, and do not try to stop me.” His heart thrummed loudly in his chest as he ripped off his waistcoat and started to remove his shirt. She took a step toward him, wariness flashing in her eyes as she eased his hands away and finished the task. Her eyes rested on his chest as she slid the shirt slowly over his shoulders. He cupped her face, so small and lovely, in his large hands and touched his mouth to hers, willing himself to savor each kiss. Her fingers deftly unfastened his pants and he freed himself of their confinement.

  They stood before each other, no pretense, no lies, and no promises. Her beautiful eyes met his.

  “I don’t regret one moment of my time with you,” she said quietly.

  He held her face close, breathing in the warm scent of her skin. “Jane, be sure. Very sure.” He wanted to get lost in her, wanted to forget the darkness of his past, wanted to believe that he was worthy of her.

  She nodded.

  He lowered his mouth, taking his fill of her willing lips, smoothing his hands down the curve of her back, pulling her close, showing her what to expect.

  He lifted her into his arms, and she hooked her legs around his waist. They fell together to the bed, his cock nuzzling the warmth between her legs. It would be so easy to take her like this. Fill her, thrust into her until she screamed his name. Mindless. No emotions. Just take what he wanted.

  She held his arms, her eyes pleading. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, shifting her hips toward his, teasing his dark need. He fought for control. She deserved more.

  Summoning every bit of his will, he eased from the juncture of her thighs, covering her reluctant moan with his mouth. He may well drive himself to the brink of insanity, but he was determined to keep her in his bed till dawn and make it a night they’d not soon forget.

  He took his time, a novelty to his way with women, exploring her curves, watching her face dissolve with pleasure as he cradled her soft breasts, suckled each rose-colored tip. He tasted every inch, delighting in how she guided him to the next place on her body with her hand curled in his hair. She lay back, surrendering to his unshaven cheek against the tender flesh of her thigh, drawing her arms over her head in delighted abandonment as he breathed in her sex, lifting her hips as he feasted, teasing her clit.

  She fisted the sheets, calling out his name as she came undone. Her eyes opened and she smiled, reaching for him, drawing him over her. He took her mouth, savoring each sigh as they drove each other to a near frenzy once more.

  “I want you.” She pressed her knee to his side, curling her body to his. “Now.”

  “Tie me up,” he muttered against her lips.

  She held his face. There was no masking her shock. She licked her lips before she spoke. Her eyes pooled with tears. “I don’t know….”

  He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling, years of black passion flashed in his mind. He didn’t know the first thing about loving a woman. Sex—rough and mindless-that was all he knew.

  “What is it?” she asked quietly, her body curled at his side. She smoothed her hand over his body and he closed his eyes to her exquisite touch.

  “I don’t know how to do this, Jane,” he confessed, turning his gaze to hers.

  She turned, placing a kiss on his shoulder as she propped up on her elbow to look down at him. “You need to know that I’ve never felt about anyone as I do you, Randolph.”

  He closed his eyes. Her honesty broke something inside of him. “What do you want from me?” he asked, mentally scolding himself for sounding too gruff in his query.

  He saw the flash of curiosity flicker in her eyes before she spoke. “I only want to love you.” She kissed him then, showing him the depth of her need.

  Randolph searched her face. “I cannot make you promises,” he told her.

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t ask for any.”

  He captured her mouth, the passion sizzling hotter with each meeting of their lips. All his life he’d fought to be in control, but now, he wanted desperately to lose control, to surrender to the free-fall of all the emotions he’d never known. He pulled Jane atop him and held her face. “Show me, Jane, how to love.”

  ***

  His broad shoulders appeared even more so, seeing his arms stretched, bound by the silk ties at his wrist. His eyes, dark with desire, looked up at her as she finished the task. Heat pooled between her thighs, making her throb with need. Hs erection stood proud, full, thick…waiting for her. Pressing her lips together, she moved to his side, turning his face to hers in a slow, tantalizing kiss that fired her blood. His chest heaved beneath her touch as she traced the lines of his muscled torso. Twirling her fingertips in the dark patch of hair below his belly, she felt his body stiffen as she wrapped her hand around him. Empowered by his words, she straddled his legs and touched the velvety tip with her tongue. What was this pleasure she felt, this delicious need to know every part of him?

  “Unless you want me spent soon, I suggest that you cease this torment and take me, Jane.” She looked up, licking the salty residue from her lips.

  She smiled coyly, drawing herself over his body, brushing his turgid length. “But you asked—”

  “Do not tease, Jane.” He closed his eyes, his jaw twitching as he clenched it. “These ropes cannot hold me. I’ve proven that.” His dark eyes bore into hers. “Fuck me, Jane. Now.”

  Jane rested her palms on his chest, taking him in, inch by inch, aware of how he stretched her, filled her. His hips lifted, pushing himself deeper. She sighed, leaning down to touch her mouth to his.

  “Yes, my dearest,” he whispered, rocking his hips gently, building her need. “Sit up, the pleasure is much greater, I promise.”

  She pushed her arms in front of her, delirious from the friction between her legs. She began to move, not unlike riding horseback. She smiled at the thought. It seemed so right, so natural to seek the pleasure growing inside her. Her hands pressed against his lower belly, feeling the muscles contract beneath her fingers.

  “Oh, God, yes…Randolph, yes,” she cried as he thrust his hips upward and met her undoing before he toppled over the edge with her.

  It was not the only time they would use the silken cords that night.

  They lay together after Randolph had shown her just how thrilling missionary style could be. He lay on his stomach, resting his head on his arms.

  Her lips brushed over each scar across his back. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  He was silent, and at first she thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “Most women I know don’t ask. They assume it’s simply part of my preference in pleasure,” he said quietly. “Besides, it was a long time ago.”

  Jane traced the deeply scarred welts with her finger. Lines upon lines covered his beautiful skin. “And is it? Was it?” she asked. She was no physician, but these were not fresh. She thought of the things he’d told her, knowing how he must’ve battled the demons inside him as he allowed her to take what she wanted. He was not the type to relinquish control to anyone, and least of all, she suspected, in the bedroom.
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  “You have a penchant for asking questions,” he mumbled sleepily.

  “Then you leave me no choice but to occupy my mouth in other ways.” She kissed her way down his ribcage, taking liberty of his tired state, memorizing his body with her hands, absorbing his scent of tweed and soap mixed with his beloved whisky. Which, she noted, he’d not had need of all night. His body was firm, tight. She dipped her finger in the dimples just above his buttocks and remembered the teeth marks he’d once gifted to her. She smiled and sank her teeth into the firm flesh of his buttock.

  “What the bloody hell?” He jerked upright, pushing his elbows into the bed, quickly turning around and hauling her to his lap. His eyes glittered with amusement.

  “Turnabout is fair play. Do you realize that I couldn’t sit down for weeks after that encounter without remembering the reason why?” Jane smiled.

  His tempting mouth curved into a wicked grin. “That, you naughty girl, was my intent.” He jostled her closer. “You continue to surprise me. I thought I was past that.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, content to look into his beautiful eyes every morning for the rest of her days. But even as the thought played in her head, his mischievous glint dissolved, replaced with a sorrow so deep, her heart could barely absorb it. Here was a man used to being in command and, in his gaze, she saw his plea for salvation. Her breath caught with her realization. There was so little she knew about him, and yet she’d given herself to him, invested her heart. Was it possible that she could feel for him as she did and still walk away unscathed?

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek, his smile sad. “What am I to do with you, Miss Jane Goodwin?”

  Just love me. The words appeared in her mind without effort. He was a paradox, this man on whom so many depended to resolve their problems and yet was unable to resolve the questions buried deep inside him.

  She smoothed her hand over his brow. “You take care of everyone else.” The risk she took with her heart would leave a bruise that would take a long time, if ever, to heal. She’d reasoned each time they’d made love that, for a man like him to relinquish control, it spoke volumes about how he must feel—even though he had yet to recognize those feelings.