A Seduction at Christmas

by Cathy Maxwell

  Nick grinned, enjoying her discomfort while also admiring it. Life hadn’t hardened her yet. It would be a pity when it did.

  “Is your courage wavering, Fee?” he chided. “Or was it that you were thinking of ‘other’ things and grew distracted?”

  Her brows snapped together. “You are a beast.” With those words, she turned and marched back through the curtain.

  Nick glowered at where she’d disappeared for a moment, but then he couldn’t help but smile.

  How was she going to keep him tied up? Or do “other” things? She blushed every time she looked at him. All he had to do was look at her suggestively or say something sexual to make her run from the room.

  She’d also saved his life last night. He remembered all now. Without her, he would have been an easy mark for the Irishmen.

  Still, that didn’t mean he would let her ransom him. “You won’t find me an easy captive, love,” he called out. “You’ll have to work for that five hundred pounds.”

  “Tad, growl,” she answered back.

  The big dog lowered his head and made a low menacing sound, but Nick wasn’t afraid. In fact, his head didn’t hurt so much and he was beginning to feel entertained.

  “Nice puppy,” he said. “You may have one of my leg bones after I’ve rotted in this bed.”

  Tad gave him a wolfish grin as if he’d enjoy the chewing.

  “That did not go well,” Grace mouthed to Fiona on the other side of the curtain. Her eyes were as big as saucers. Holburn’s clothes hung off a line that was strung across the room. They’d spent the night cleaning his clothes the best they could.

  “It went fine,” Fiona snapped. “And I’ll not take a penny less just because he’s so irritating.”

  “I’ve never seen you so emotional,” Grace observed.

  Fiona jabbed a finger in the direction of the curtain. “I saved that man’s life,” she said in a furious whisper. “I carried him through the streets of London and does he care? No! The only true reason I tied him up was to protect myself from his insane temper when he woke. And I’m glad I did,” she said, moving toward the hearth.

  From the other room, Holburn bellowed, “I’m hungry.”

  Fiona scowled at the curtain. “He needs to be quiet,” Grace worried. “What if Mr. Simon or someone else hears him?”

  “Fee, it’s time for one of those ‘other’ things,” Holburn yelled. “I’m hungry, Fee.”

  “I thought you didn’t like being called Fee?” Grace said.

  “I don’t,” Fiona answered. Only her brother had been allowed to call her “Fee.” How like the Duke of Holburn to instinctively know how to annoy her.

  “Fee-e-e,” he called. “Fee-e-ed me.”

  Now he was being silly. “He’s testing us,” Fiona said. “He doesn’t believe I am serious.” She stomped over to the hearth. She picked up a bowl from her cabinet shelf.

  “What are you doing?” Grace asked as Fiona started ladling the remains of the porridge the two of them had made and eaten for their breakfast.

  “He’s hungry,” Fiona said.

  “But you can’t feed him that,” Grace said, hurrying over to the hearth. Keeping her voice low, she said, “He’s a duke.”

  “He’s a prisoner,” Fiona corrected, aiming the last word toward the curtain.

  “Dukes don’t eat porridge for breakfast,” Grace answered.

  “They do if they are hungry,” Fiona replied.

  “I’m hungry,” Holburn complained from the other room. “I want a steak and a glass of ale, Fee.”

  “Oh, yes, porridge it is,” Fiona muttered to herself. She picked up a spoon and headed toward the curtain.

  Grace stopped her. “We must do something about his shouting. His voice carries.”

  “I know exactly what to do,” Fiona answered. She set down the porridge bowl long enough to take his neck cloth off the line. It was still a bit damp. She rolled it up, held it by one finger as she picked up the bowl and went through the curtain.

  Holburn greeted her with, “It’s about bloody time. Tad and I were growing lonely. Next time, you’d best be a bit more quick about it—”

  She cut him off by stuffing a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.

  His expression turned comical. He tasted the gruel and then all but gagged. “What is this?”

  “Your breakfast, Your Grace,” she said serenely. She’d set the porridge and rolled neck cloth on the bedside table so that she could close the open window. “Here now, I don’t want you to take a chill. Tad uses this window to go back and forth to do his business.”

  Still frowning over the taste of the porridge, Holburn said, “He can jump a floor’s height?”

  “There is a shed against the building. He can climb his way up.”

  The duke considered her a moment. “You don’t fear I’ll use this information to plan an escape?”

  She picked up the porridge bowl, making a great show of stirring the lumpy gruel, as she said, “I spent hours tying you down last night. I don’t believe you will be going anywhere.” She deliberately kept Grace’s involvement a secret. Holburn didn’t need to know everything.

  “Open up,” she coaxed him, holding up a spoonful of porridge.

  He clamped his lips shut.

  “I thought you were hungry?” she teased him.

  His glower said louder than words what he thought, so she was surprised when he dutifully opened his mouth.

  He really was a handsome man. His huge body took up all her cot and his hair was charmingly sleep mussed. A growth of whiskers darkened his jaw in a very attractive, masculine way—

  Her pleasant thoughts were abruptly ended as he spit a mouthful of porridge at her. It hit the side of her chin and the bodice of her neck.

  Fiona came to her feet. “That is disgusting,” she said, taking up the closest thing at hand, his neck cloth, and wiping herself clean. This was her best day dress. She didn’t want it ruined.

  Holburn laughed with triumph. “I don’t like porridge,” he reiterated.

  “Right now, I don’t like you,” Fiona returned.

  “The feeling is mutual,” he countered, and would have said more except that she put the neck cloth to good use. She stuffed the whole thing in his mouth as he prepared to crow again over his actions.

  His brows came up in surprise. He tried to spit the neck cloth out but she’d stuffed it well into his mouth. He wasn’t going to make another noise.

  “Your rudeness earned you that,” she informed primly. “And you can go without your breakfast, too.” She picked up her bowl and spoon and left the room.

  Tad wanted to follow. “Sit,” she said and the dog reluctantly went back to his duties.

  The truth was, Tad wasn’t that good of a watch dog. He was more of a lover than a fighter, but the duke didn’t need to know that.

  Grace anxiously waited in the other room. “What happened?” she whispered.

  “The beast spit porridge on me,” Fiona said, irked beyond common sense. She found a cloth and began dabbing at the stains on her bodice. Her hands seemed covered in the sticky gruel and she could feel it dry on her face. She moved over to the last of the fresh water in the bucket.

  “I can’t believe I stayed up all night to clean his clothes,” she complained bitterly. “Or saved his life. I should have tossed him to the Irishmen. Then perhaps he’d have a little bit more respect.”

  She turned to see Grace standing with her hand to her forehead. “What is it?” Fiona asked her friend.

  Grace dropped her hand, coming over to her to say, “Let him go, Fiona. This is too dangerous. He’s too bold for you.”

  From beyond the curtain came the sounds of Holburn’s frustration. The cot bounced on the floor as he tried to free himself.

  Fiona walked over to peek through the curtain. Her knots were holding.

  Dropping the curtain, she said to Grace, “I might have agreed with you earlier. However, his spitting the porridge has made me angry. Holbu
rn needs to be taught a lesson so he doesn’t continue to carry on like a spoiled toddler. And I’m just the woman to do it,” Fiona announced, raising her voice on those last words and directing them in the duke’s direction.

  He made an angry, muffled response.

  “Wait,” Grace said slowly, the worry lines across her forehead easing. She held up a hand as if begging a moment’s tolerance. “You are enjoying this.”

  “I am not,” Fiona answered, ducking under the clothes line to carry the porridge bowl to the cabinet.

  “You are,” Grace insisted, following. She shook her head. “Fiona, you must be careful.”

  “I am being careful,” Fiona answered. “And I will have my five hundred pounds.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Grace said.

  Fiona turned to her. There was a funny note in her friend’s voice. “What are you saying?”

  Grace shook her head. “Nothing. Then again, matters are complicated between men and women. I might be wrong, but I think you are interested in more than just the five hundred pounds.”

  Heat warmed Fiona’s cheeks. “There can be nothing between me and the duke. You are being fanciful.”

  “Am I?” Grace smiled with a certainty borne of experience. “Well, we shall see. In the meantime, I have a rehearsal. I’m afraid I can’t return until after tonight’s performance. Will you be all right?”

  “Of course I will,” Fiona answered, almost anxious to see Grace gone. Her friend was too wise in the ways of the world. She understood more than Fiona had yet comprehended for herself.

  “Don’t let him frighten you,” Grace advised. “Keep him where he is until I return. I’ll see if I can coax one of the night porters to come back with me tonight to help us with Holburn.”

  “I’m hoping this whole matter is played out by then,” Fiona replied.

  Gathering up her wool cape, Grace said, “I hope it is, too. But just in case, I shall bring strong arms to help us.” She gave Fiona a hug. “Send for me if you need help before this evening.”

  “I will,” Fiona promised and Grace left.

  Holburn had gone quiet.

  The occupants of the room overhead shut a door. Footsteps sounded going down the stairs in the hallway. People were leaving for wherever it is they had to go during the day.

  This was the time, when everyone seemed to have somewhere to be, that Fiona felt the loneliest. The last few days since Madame Sophie had let her go had been torturous.

  But now, she had something to do.

  She had to take care of her hostage—and her first course of action was going to arrange for his ransom.

  Crossing to her chest, she took out a small writing box. It held pen, paper, and ink. Picking up a chair from the table, she went to visit the duke.

  He lay on the bed, tied down as she’d left him, mouth full of neck cloth, staring at the ceiling.

  She set her chair down beside the bed and took out her writing materials. She placed the small bottle of ink on the bedside table. Tad inched closer to her.

  “Now, Your Grace,” she said, “I’m going to write a note to your banker and you are going to sign it.”

  He mumbled something that sounded very profane.

  “You shouldn’t talk like that,” she told him. “It’s unbecoming in a gentleman.”

  Holburn’s brows shot together in fury. She smiled, enjoying herself.

  She used the top of the box for a writing table.

  “Now, let’s see, what shall we write your banker?” She dipped the pen in ink and began, “Dear Sir, Please advance the sum of five hundred pounds to the bearer of this letter.”

  Fiona nodded. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  Holburn glared at her, and shook the bed with his effort to break free.

  “You are wasting your time, Your Grace,” she said, not unkindly. “I know how to tie a knot, which is good because you are going to have to stay here until I withdraw the funds. I can’t set you free before that.”

  An idea had been forming in her head since Grace had mentioned the porter. She and Tad would leave London straight from the bank. She’d hire a lad from the street to free the duke. Of course, she’d contact Grace before she left and warn her to stay away.

  It was a good plan.

  “I know you don’t like being bested. It makes you angry. However, look at this another way. If you don’t sign, I shall do everything in my power to annoy you. It shouldn’t take me long. A diet of porridge and nettle tea should bring you around soon enough. There’s also the boredom of lying in that bed for hours.”

  His gaze narrowed suggestively.

  “Alone,” she emphasized. “You will be alone. I’ll give you a moment to think over the matter.” She set her writing box on the floor and left the room. She took her time brewing a cup of tea. When done, she carried it into his room.

  Tasting the tea, she smiled. “Mmmmmm, nettle tea. It tastes so green. So different from wine. By the way, do you know what happens when a man accustomed to drinking his weight in grape can’t have any? It makes him irritable. Crotchety. All I must do is keep talking and before you know it, you won’t be able to stand the sound of my voice. You won’t want to eat the food I cook for you and you will want your freedom. Five hundred pounds is a bargain in exchange for a good beef steak—”

  He interrupted her with a huge groaning noise and then raised the fingers of the hand closest to her and pretended to write.

  Wearing him down hadn’t taken any time at all. “Very good,” she said. She’d wrapped the ropes around his body on her cot, but had tied each wrist separately, securing it to the bed frame. “I’ll untie one wrist. You sign the document, and I’ll leave to go to the bank. Unfortunately I will have to retie you, but you understand. When I have my money, I’ll return to set you free.”

  There, let him believe he was going to see her again.

  Pleased with herself, Fiona bent over in her chair to undo the knot around his wrist closest to her.

  What she didn’t expect was for his other hand to come across and reach for her.

  Or for the ropes tied around his body to fall away as if they weren’t tied at all.

  Before she completely comprehended what had happened, he dragged her onto the bed, flipping his body over hers. Holding her down with his weight, Holburn took out the neck cloth gag and captured her hands by the wrists.

  He smiled, his blue eyes elated. “Surprised?”

  Stunned was a better word.

  Tad anxiously approached the bed. The duke gave his head a pat and said, “Down.” Tad immediately dropped to the floor.

  “Your dog isn’t much of a guard,” Holburn informed her. “And you aren’t as good at tying knots as you think you are.”

  “What are you going to do?” she demanded, surprised she didn’t feel panicked. She didn’t fear him…but she was very conscious of him.

  He was hard, aroused, but there was no anger to him. No meanness.

  “I’m going to put my breeches on, Fee,” he said, “but first, we need a reckoning. Now, what sort of penalty should I extract?”

  And she knew he was going to kiss her.

  That’s when she understood exactly what Grace had meant…because she wasn’t adverse to that kiss. She’d lost five hundred pounds, but it was part of the game they were playing between them. The game that had started the moment they’d first met.

  “You would be wiser to just go,” she told him.

  “I would, Fee,” he agreed, his voice was close to her ear. She could feel his breath against her skin. “But what fun would there be in that?”

  His head turned, seeking her lips, and God help her, she let him find them.

  Five hundred pounds lost and she would sell her soul for his kiss. What madness was this? She turned, the better to deepen the kiss—

  The door to the hallway shook with the force of someone pounding on it. Even the walls seemed to shake. Tad jumped to his feet, the hair rising on his neck, his t
eeth bared.

  “Annie Jenkins?” A male Irish voice, Thomas’s voice called out, “We know you live here. Let us in.” Without waiting for a response, he said to someone with him, “Crash it down. I’ll not have her hiding from us.”

  Chapter Six

  Nick came up off the bed and crouched, ready to ward off attackers. At any second, he expected the door beyond the curtain to be smashed to pieces.

  But the door remained intact. The sound of splintering wood came from the room next door. The thinness of the walls had carried the sound as clearly as if the Irishman stood in front of theirs.

  Tad started to growl.

  “Quiet,” Nick ordered and was pleased when the dog obeyed.

  He glanced back at Fiona. She sat up on the bed, her back against the wall, her face drained of all color.

  “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her. “I won’t let them harm you.”

  Those dark solemn eyes of hers looked to him with a child’s trust and it was his turn to have doubts. Damn it all. How had this happened? No one trusted him. Everyone knew he cared about nothing but himself.

  “Why are they looking for Annie Jenkins here?” he mouthed.

  “She lived next door.”

  There was clumping around and the sound of furniture being thrown on the other side of the wall. “There’s no one here,” one of the lads called to his leader who swore colorfully.

  “Tear the place up,” he ordered, “and then we’ll hunt her down. She has to be somewhere around here.”

  Nick didn’t want to face the bastards naked. “My clothes?” he asked Fee.

  She nodded toward the curtain.

  He moved quietly to the other room and found his breeches, shirt, and jacket hanging to dry. Tad followed him, the huge wolfhound more frightened in spite of his size.

  Nick dressed quickly. He heard a new voice out in the hallway. A man shouted, “Here now, what have you done? You can’t be tearing down my building this way.” At the sound of his voice, Tad grew more anxious. Nick placed his hand on the dog, wanting to settle him.

  And then there was the sound of the same man hollering in fear. “No, what are you doing—?”

  His question was cut off by a scream and a tumbling sound as if something were bouncing down the stairs. It was followed by silence.