by Emma Wildes
Suddenly taking an interest in her brandy, Jessica lifted it and sipped, avoiding his gaze. With a small cough, she whispered hoarsely, “Come to you with hands extended for charity? No, thank you.”
Damn her stubborn pride. He’d guessed as much. “It’s better than prison.”
“I didn’t think I would ever be suspected.”
“No one does,” Trent observed darkly.
“Perhaps.” For a moment, her dark blue eyes shimmered, as if filling with tears. She blinked and gave him a humorless smile, looking young and forlorn in her damp cloak, but still defiant with her chin tilted up. “Lest you think badly of Stephen, he didn’t realize how much my father had depleted the estate. His inheritance is squandered. When he resigns his commission and comes home, he will be sorely disappointed in the state of affairs.”
Trent took a moment before he spoke, barely controlling his exasperation. “None of which is your responsibility except, of course, the decision to reverse those losses by illegal means. I assure you, Stephen adores you and would be even less thrilled at your incarceration and conviction than he will be at facing your father’s debts.”
Jessica sent him an unfathomable look. “So, you are galloping to my rescue like some romantic knight, my lord? A noble gesture, if a bit impulsive. It is not too late for me to slip away. The scandal won’t help your reputation either, may I remind you, which isn’t all that good to begin with.” She bit her lip and half-lowered her long lashes. “What of Lady Alison?”
The fact that someone like Jessica, buried here in the Kentish countryside, had heard of his latest mistress was disconcerting. “What of her?”
“Word is you will marry before the year is out.”
That had been a slight possibility, not one he was all that enthusiastic about, until he’d learned of Jessica’s plight. Once morning came, if all worked to plan, Lady Alison Tate would most certainly not be an option. “You’re staying right here.”
Predictably, Jessica stiffened, her lovely face pale in the meager firelight. “I would think, my lord, after you supposedly ruin me and the resulting scandal, Lady Alison will not wish to have you. In her place, I certainly wouldn’t.”
“She might not wish to have me,” Trenton informed his beautiful wayward guest, “but you certainly will.”
Chapter 2
Since the only illumination in the room was from the glow of the fire, the man standing before her with his usual nonchalant grace looked a little like a character from some lurid gothic novel. His handsome face cast in planes and shadows, his firm mouth just slightly curved in a mocking smile, and his eyes, so dark, like midnight without a moon, they simply gazed right through her.
If her heart had been pounding on the cliff when he had sprung out of nowhere and so bluntly outlined her untenable predicament, it was nothing compared to this slow, hard slam against her ribcage. “You wish to…marry me?” Stammering out the words, Jessica felt like she had a mouthful of sand.
One ebony brow arched up. Trenton Wyatt said coolly, “I don’t know if I wish it or not, but I am going to have no choice once we are discovered. However, that wasn’t precisely what I meant when I said you would have me.”
So off-balance, all she could do was stare at him. Jessica saw the predatory gleam in his eyes with pure female alarm. He set aside his empty brandy glass on the mantle and took a step toward her. Tall and wide-shouldered, he seemed to fill the room. Though she wished to turn and run, there was absolutely no place to go.
“I’m not going to swallow you whole, so don’t suddenly look as if I’ve grown horns and a tail, my dear.” His smile lifted the corner of his mouth slightly, and he reached out for the fastening on her cloak. His long fingers brushed her throat as he deftly untied it. “However, since the entire countryside will be ablaze with the scandal of our love affair by noon, I think I should at least reap some of the benefits of my clever plan, don’t you?”
This—a frantic grasp at reality spun through her mind—could simply not be happening.
Her hands flying up, Jessica caught his wrists. He paused obligingly, but she could feel the tensile strength beneath her clutching fingers and knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was no match for this man.
She knew a lot about Trenton Louis Wyatt, the seventh Earl of Declan. He was sophisticated, educated, and wealthy, handsome, urbane, with a wicked wit and smooth, compelling charm. An astute businessman, he had doubled his fortune in the decade since he had inherited it, and unlike her weak and foolish father, would undoubtedly leave his family a vast and secure estate someday.
He was every bit the consummate, devastatingly attractive, and much sought-after, titled English gentleman. Not to mention his status as a hot-blooded lover of the first order.
There was every chance that this man might discover her deepest secret. She wasn’t sure she was willing to relinquish it.
Meeting his gaze as steadily as possible, Jessica said, “I cannot believe you are serious. You expect me to…lie with you,” the words came out in a strangled mumble, “in repayment for your ludicrous plan?”
“Ludicrous?” His well-shaped mouth twisted slightly and he gently tugged free of her grip, her loosened cloak immediately sliding to the floor. Tall in the firelight, he stared down at her. “Very well. You come up with a better one. I have it from a reliable source there were going to be men watching your house this evening—or should I say morning, considering the hour. They want to catch you red-handed with whatever documents are undoubtedly concealed on your tempting person at this moment. For up until now, though they suspect you, they cannot prove anything.”
“I’ll make sure I arrive home with nothing hidden anywhere.” There was a shameful desperate edge to her reply.
“That will still leave you under suspicion. Are really anxious to have some oafish revenue agent search you, Jess? I imagine he would enjoy it, but—”
“Stop it.” Jessica felt herself blanch at the thought of some strange man fumbling his hands over her body. “No, of course not.”
“And where would you say you’ve been?” Trenton persisted inexorably, shrugging his wide shoulders. He wore no cravat, and the collar of his white shirt was open at the neck, the tailored garment hugging his broad shoulders. Fitted dark breeches and custom-made boots emphasized long legs. His hair always tended to curl, and in the humidity and wind, had become a tousled halo, framing his starkly masculine face attractively in dark, unruly strands. “At least my way offers an explanation for every one of your absences and gives a reason for the secrecy. You’ve been here and doing something no proper young lady should. Of course, I could hardly allow my mistress to starve or go barefoot, so she would have an allowance, hence the sudden influx of mysterious extra money in your household. Come now. Take off your shoes and stockings. I’ll help you with the rest.”
The trouble was the man was infernally right. She seemed to be in a very bad position, and he was offering a way out. Swallowing hard as he began to unbutton his shirt, Jessica said, “I am sure just my being found here will be suffice to set the tongues a-wagging and complete your plan, my lord. We needn’t actually do anything.”
Trenton jerked the tail of his shirt out of his trousers, his smile suddenly wicked and all male. “But I want to do something, and I make it a point to never lie unless it is absolutely necessary. You will be found naked, in that bed,” he inclined his head to where a magnificent four poster sat in an opulence of silk hangings, “in my arms. Think of how convincing that will be, especially when we are, in truth, lovers.”
When had the room become so warm? Jessica felt suddenly flushed all over. She blurted out, “You’ve never thought of me as anything except a bothersome child.”
“You grew up, and very nicely, I might add. The general opinion of the countryside around here is that Miss Jessica Fairman is a raving beauty, if a bit rash in her choice of lawless hobbies.” Slipping out of his shirt, he tossed it carelessly across a brocade chair
and sat down to remove his boots. Bare chest gleaming, he moved toward her once again with panther-like grace, his hands firm on her shoulders as he turned her around.
Dear God, he actually meant to bed her, Jessica thought dimly as he made short work of the buttons on her gown. Within moments, she stood there clad only in chemise and stockings, her face averted in embarrassment until Trenton’s hand came up under chin and forced her around to look at him.
His dark eyes held a heated look she’d never seen before. Mesmerized, Jessica stared back, disconcerted and unwillingly intrigued when his gaze dropped to her mouth, then lowered with thorough interest to examine the exposed upper curves of her breasts above the bodice of her shift, and then back up to her mouth. “Oh, yes,” he murmured as he lowered his head, still holding her chin so she couldn’t withdraw. “This part of our deception will be my pleasure.”
His mouth was silky and hot and extremely insistent. She’d been kissed, by eager suitors during her very brief debut in London what felt like a lifetime ago, before her mother realized the extent of her father’s debts, and they were forced to sell the townhouse and leave just after the beginning of the season. However, those clandestine, stolen embraces were absolutely nothing compared to Trenton’s possessive kiss. Her lashes drifted low as he insistently slipped his tongue between her lips, and his arms came around her waist.
The heat of his rangy body, the foray of his tongue as it explored, taunted and teased, the vague smoky smell of the fire and the crack of the lightning outside, they all blended into the culmination of her deepest fantasy. Here she was at last, in the arms of the gloriously attractive Earl of Declan. He kissed her with open, unconcealed desire, the long, rock-hard ridge of flesh she could feel in his breeches as he urged her against him proof of his admitted enthusiasm. Her arms seemed to lift and clasp his neck of their volition, and her tingling breasts pressed to his chest while she opened further and sighed with pleasure into his mouth.
This was truly happening.
She’d been in love with him ever since she could remember. Helpless, adoring, ridiculous, infatuated fascination that was completely unreciprocated. Logically, she’d known it was because she was too young, that it would be unnatural for a grown man to notice a child, but there was nothing logical about love. By the time she was sixteen, she’d vacillated between hating him and her hopelessly romantic dreams of Trenton carrying her away into the sunset. When she had come of age and other men most certainly had become interested, he still remained friendly but aloof, as if he didn’t really see her on his brief, courteous visits to her mother.
It had hurt. Then she had been robbed of the chance to make him jealous, too, by having someone rich, handsome, and titled whisk her away right under his nose. Her bow in society was cut short by the humiliation of overwhelming debt, banished back to the country to live in almost desperate genteel poverty while he tantalized the society gossips with his blatant sexual exploits in the beds of highborn tarts.
Damn the man. Now he thought he could simply take her innocence, use her body for base pleasure like he would one of his harlots, all because some notion of loyalty to her brother made him think he had to come rushing in to save her. Tearing her mouth away, Jessica pushed at his shoulders abruptly, breaking his hold. “Stop, please.”
He thought she owed him for the sacrifice he was going to make. If he was going to have to perform the distasteful task of taking her as his wife, he might as well get some sexual pleasure from it. It was so far removed from her magical imaginings that her eyes filled with hot, unwanted tears.
“Jessica.” His tone was impatient and persuasive. “I’ll take every care with you. Don’t be frightened.”
She wasn’t frightened, she thought, glaring up at him. She was furious. How dare he destroy the perfect, crystal clear image she had of him finally noticing her, finally wanting her? Instead of a handsome, eager lover on bended knee offering flowers, his beautiful dark eyes full of respectful adoration, she had an irritatingly arrogant, fully-aroused predator looming over her, his dark stare one of overt lust, and not a bouquet or blossom in sight.
“I’m leaving,” she snapped, reaching down to pick up her dress.
“Think again, Jess.” Trenton snatched it away and threw it aside. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you? A moment ago, you were melting in my arms.”
“I’m sure you’re well used to that, if half the rumors are true.” She tossed back her half-undone hair and gave him a challenging stare.
He had the nerve to laugh, standing there in semi-naked glory, his chest rippled with defined muscle, his handsome face openly amused. “Guilty as charged, I suppose, though you can find out for yourself here in a few moments.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Lord Declan. I’m leaving.”
“Once again, at the risk of being impolite by contradicting a beautiful lady, no, you are not. I’ve gone to far too much trouble already to save your slender neck and protect your family.”
“You can rape me, I suppose, since I am not match for you physically.”
His dark eyes narrowed a fraction in unconcealed irritation. “Are you mad, Jess? I’d never force any woman. Besides, I won’t have to, believe me. That kiss was a legion of information.”
Had it been? A certain panic seized her. The last thing she wanted was for him to discover her true feelings. His indifference all these years was bad enough without piling on the added misery of him knowing she had nurtured a hidden hope for a fairy tale romance between them.
She supposed she’d realized years ago the Earl of Declan was no hero prince. He was instead a rake of the first order, as cold emotionally as he was appealing physically. Not an ounce of romance in his black soul, Jessica mused inwardly, trying to feel as at ease in her half-dressed state as he was, and failing miserably. No wonder he seemed sangfroid over a possible marriage that he had bluntly stated he didn’t want. She doubted he planned on changing his lifestyle one bit.
But if she truly insisted and left, what on earth was she going to do? Her mother would be devastated if she had any idea of what Jessica had been up to lately.
Fine, she decided with a flash of resigned inspiration. He had her in a corner, and that was that. There was nothing to prevent her from turning the tables now, was there? If he wished to pleasure himself with her body and play the sacrificial gentleman in the morning, she’d let him. Accept his title, his fortune, his skill in bed—and his protection, as well. She could be every bit as detached and casual about sex and marriage, or at least pretend to be.
Squaring her shoulders, Jessica summoned up a smile. “All right,” she said, unable to keep a slight edge from her voice. “I suppose staying is the best course.” Her fingers strayed to the ribbon on the bodice of her chemise, tugging at it. “Here, I suppose this will make things go a bit faster. I’m quite fatigued, if you want the truth, and could use some sleep.”
* * * *
As long as he lived, he would never completely understand women. However, the mercurial change in Jessica’s demeanor was more than a little confusing. She’d gone from frightened fugitive, to defiant girl, to warm, willing woman, all since he’d confronted her on the path and dragged back to Declan Manor. The spectacular and baffling fury after she broke their kiss had passed almost as quickly as the storm was fading outside, replaced now with a tempting seductress who disrobed with uncharacteristic acquiescence he instinctively mistrusted.
Not that trust particularly mattered at this moment.
His erection throbbed uncomfortably as he watched the lacy, well-worn shift slide down her pale shoulders, past slim hips, and pool at her feet. She still wore her stockings and garters, and she bent to unfasten a small flat package that had been tied to her thigh, the leather-wrapped packet obviously containing whatever information she’d been risking her foolhardy neck for this hellish evening.
“I’ll take that,” he informed her grimly, holding out his hand.
For a moment he was certain she would
argue, but instead, she placed it in his hand and continued to undress.
His mouth went dry as he studied the full mounds of her firm, high breasts, the narrow grace of her waist, and the pale gleam of the perfect triangle of pale hair between her legs. She was right in one regard. At one time, he’d barely noticed her except for vague glimmers of amusement over such an angelic-looking little girl having such a propensity for mischief. Listening to Stephen’s grumblings over her childish antics with a sympathy born of having three very raucous younger brothers, Trenton had remarked more than once to his friend that Jessica was going set the world upside down when she was a woman.
He had been dead on with that prediction.
Turning, he strode across to the dresser in the corner and shoved the contraband Jessica had risked so much for into a pile of folded linen handkerchiefs. He would hide it better once he’d read it, but for now, all his coherent thought was driven by the throbbing between his legs.
Jessica stood by the bed, spirals of flaxen curls brushing her hips as she pulled free the ribbon carelessly holding back her hair, her dark blue eyes sheltered by half lowered lashes as her long tresses tumbled down. The boldness of the systematic removal of her clothes was belied by the bright spots in her smooth cheeks, and her lower lip trembled just a fraction as she peeled off her stockings one at a time. When she was completely nude, her gaze rose and met his, fell, and then rose again in defiant challenge.
“Perfect,” he murmured truthfully, stepping close enough that the erect pink crests of her breasts brushed his bare chest. “So beautiful.” His finger trailed down her cheek and across the fullness of her lower lip. This time, his kiss was gentle and slow, his lips lingering on her mouth, then sliding along the delicate edge of her jaw to nibble at the small hollow under her ear.
