A Persistant Attraction

by Silvia Violet

  She picked up her packet of letters and read the ominous note again. Three days. Not nearly enough time to investigate the man who’d attacked her.

  She needed help. As much as she believed in her own abilities to manage crises, she couldn’t track this man down on her own. And she had no resources from which to gather such a large sum of money.

  But whom could she trust? Her aunt was out of the question. She did not need the strain Amanda’s problems would put on her. She would not bother her younger sister either. She was certain Elise would volunteer Mr. Whittaker’s help, but the young lovers needed a chance to enjoy their Season.

  She intended to call on Mrs. Lillington as soon as her injury would permit it, but she doubted the woman knew anything about the man who’d given her the note. Most likely Amanda’s attacker had chosen someone he’d never met to pass the missive along.

  Mark and Cassandra were too far away to assist her so quickly. Besides, she did not want to disturb them when they were still newlyweds nor would she do anything to risk their baby.

  Who did that leave? The answer hit her with a thump. Rhys Stanton.

  *

  The house was finally quiet. The clock in her sitting room told Amanda it was just past midnight. She was certain her aunt was sleeping by now, and she’d heard Elise retire at least an hour before. It was time to make her move.

  She stepped onto the small balcony outside her window and tossed down an old tattered cloak. Then she swung one leg over the wall, thankful she’d kept the breeches she’d stolen from her cousin years ago. She gasped as her side twinged and pain shot across her abdomen.

  She bit her lip and steeled herself against the pain. Then she lowered herself slowly until she hung by her hands before dropping to the ground. Her side screamed as she landed, and she lifted the man’s shirt she wore to make sure she hadn’t torn the wound open. Fortunately it had healed enough to remain closed Nevertheless, the pain dizzied her. She bent over, breathing slowly until the world righted itself.

  She knew she had to get moving. She picked up her cloak and wrapped it around herself. Then she checked her hair to make sure the jump hadn’t dislodged her queue.

  Hopefully, anyone she met would think her a young footman on an errand for his master. She knew the disguise wouldn’t work close up, but from a distance…well, it was the best she could do. Fortunately, Rhys lived only two streets away.

  A few people passed on the far side of the street, but none of them paid attention to her. The only creature she came in contact with was an overly friendly mutt who followed her to Rhys’s doorstep before she managed to shoo him away.

  She took a deep breath as she stared at Rhys’s ornate gold knocker. She’d come this far. Turning away now was not an option. Still, she struggled to make her hand obey her mind’s command to knock.

  She was insane to be visiting a notorious rake at this hour. It went against multiple rules of propriety, but what was a woman to do when she was threatened with torture and death? She bit her lip to hold in the laughter that tickled her throat. It was the only response she could give her situation besides tears. She summoned her courage and knocked.

  A severe-looking gray-haired man answered the door. A look of shock played across his features before he schooled his face once again into a look of disdain.

  “What can I do for you…miss?”

  “I need to see Mr. Stanton. It is a matter of some urgency.”

  “Mr. Stanton is not to be disturbed at this hour. Please call again in the morning.”

  “If you give him my card, I assure you he will agree to see me.” She pulled a calling card from the inner pocket she’d sewn into her cloak.

  The man looked down at the card. Amanda assumed he recognized her name, since he gestured for her to come into the foyer. “Wait here for a moment, miss. I’ll see if Mr.

  Stanton is at home.”

  Amanda took the opportunity to look around. The drawing room door stood open.

  She noted that the furnishings echoed the bold, rich style of the foyer, heavy dark wood mixed with fabrics in reds and grays with silver accents.

  She wondered whether Rhys had chosen the decor himself. It suited him, that was for certain. She could easily imagine his tall frame lounging against the burgundy leather of the sofa.

  The valet returned and informed her that Mr. Stanton would see her in his study. Her heart pounded as she followed the stiff-backed man to the door of the study. He announced her and she stepped into the room.

  Rhys sat with his feet propped up on a huge mahogany desk. His coat, waistcoat and cravat lay on the floor beside him. He wore only a linen shirt, breeches and well-polished

  boots. The buttons of his shirt were undone, and it hung open, revealing the hard muscles of his chest. The sight made Amanda’s heart pound and brought heat to her cheeks.

  Rhys looked exhausted, but a primitive power still leapt behind his eyes. Watching him made her feel warm and strangely agitated. She noted the whiskey decanter and glass on the desk. Over half of the amber liquid was gone. Surely he had not drunk it all himself. If he had, she was in for more trouble than she’d expected.

  “Leave us, Meadows,” he said, waving a hand at his valet.

  His words were slightly slurred, but he still managed to project authority into his tone. Meadows glanced at her as if giving her one last chance to abandon her foolish errand. She smiled at him and stood her ground.

  When Meadows closed the door behind him, Rhys smiled like a fox who’d found the chicken coop. “I must say I’m surprised. I’ve fantasized many a night about you coming to me, ready for the pleasure I could give you, but I never thought the dream would come true.”

  “I’ve come to ask for your assistance.”

  Rhys ignored her. “Are you really here?” He stood and walked around the desk. “Or am I even more drunk than I thought?”

  He moved toward, his steps wavering. He had to catch himself on the back of a chair.

  Amanda fought the urge to retreat. She didn’t want him to know how much he intimidated her.

  “I am here, but not for the reason you so rudely assumed.” She felt hot and restless, not at all in control of herself. She wanted to look away before he noticed the deep flush on her cheeks, but she couldn’t. He was too damned beautiful.

  “You’ve come to my house unchaperoned and wearing…” He paused and looked up and down her body, stopping when his gaze reached her thighs which were clearly delineated in the tight breeches. “A most interesting costume.” Amanda forced herself to concentrate on the anger she knew his assumption warranted, not the strange sensations he stirred in her. “I need to speak to you about a serious and private matter.”

  He smiled again, looking even more predatory. “There are many things I’d love to help you with.” He reached out to caress her cheek.

  She pushed him away and stepped to the side, praying he couldn’t see her trembling.

  “I thought I could trust you to behave like a gentleman. Obviously, I was mistaken.” As she turned to leave, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. He’d been her only hope. Now she would have to face the threat alone.

  Before she exited the room, he grabbed her arm. She pulled free and ran toward the front door.

  Chapter Three

  Rhys ran after Amanda. He wasn’t letting her go until he knew why she’d come. As much as his clouded mind wanted to believe she’d finally succumbed to his sensual lure, he knew better.

  He reached her as she started down the steps to the street. He caught her waist and pulled her against him.

  Once she caught her breath, she began to struggle. “Let me go.”

  “You’re not leaving until you tell me why you came.” He fought to ignore the delicious sensations coursing through his body as she writhed against him, rubbing her tight, barely covered derrière against his thighs.

  “You are in no condition to help me,” she snarled.

  “Stop this before we draw unwan
ted attention. I’m not letting you go until you agree to talk to me.”

  He watched as she glanced from side to side, likely looking to see if they had attracted onlookers. Eventually, her struggles ceased. “Fine. If you promise not to touch me again, I’ll come inside and talk to you.”

  “You ask much considering how you are dressed, but nevertheless, I won’t touch you even if you beg me too.”

  “You needn’t worry about that.”

  “Ever so confident, are we?” he asked, before turning to go back into his house.

  She followed him into his study and eyed him closely as he sank into a leather chair.

  “Can you possibly be sober enough to comprehend what I’m saying?” He cursed his stupidity. If only he’d known she was coming, he never would have drunk so much. What had made him want to lose himself in the bottle anyway? The answer nagged at his consciousness, but he couldn’t quite catch it. His mind was filled with base urges that made him want to use Amanda’s body in a way no man should.

  Why did she look so angry? Oh, right, she’d asked him a question. What was it?

  Sober. Was he sober? No, definitely not. Maybe he could fake it. He sat up straighter.

  “Get on with your story. I’m tired of waiting.” She looked ready to murder him, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest had him mesmerized.

  “I would ask Aunt Claire for help, but as you probably know, she’s been in poor health recently. I refuse to endanger Elise. Mark and Cassandra have enough to think about, and they are too far away. You were the only other person I could think of.” She said the last sentence as if the very idea of speaking to him disgusted her.

  “I’m sorry you are faced with such an odious option. I’m still waiting to hear what this problem is.” He stood and leaned over his desk to grab the whiskey decanter. “Would you like some?”

  “No thanks. I prefer not to dull my senses when I’m near you.”

  “No, you mustn’t give an evil rake a chance at seduction.” Her pink cheeks brought him satisfaction.

  “I received this note the afternoon before the Leightons’ ball.” She extracted a piece of paper from the waist of her breeches and handed it to him.

  It was warm from her body. The feel of her heat made his cock harden instantly. He unfolded the paper and forced his tired eyes to focus on the words.

  When he finished reading he was ready to use his bare hands to strangle the man who’d written it. The cold terror that ran down his spine sobered him. “Why didn’t you come to me the day you received this?”

  “I thought it was a joke. I figured some man I’d jilted sent it to frighten me.”

  “Damn it, Amanda. You were almost killed.”

  “I’m fine. But I received a second letter today. That’s why I came. He wants me to meet the same demand in three days.”

  “And you want me to help you find him before then?”

  “Yes.” She kept her jaw tight as though her response pained her.

  An evil idea came to him. He had every intention of finding this bastard and making him pay dearly for harming Amanda, but her situation had given him a wonderful opportunity to toy with her. For just a second, reason broke through his alcohol-laden haze. He knew better, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “I deserve some payment for my assistance, don’t you think?”

  “What?” Amanda’s eyes widened.

  “Every day that I’m helping you, I will be given one chance to seduce you.” She shook her head back and forth vigorously. Her fists clenched at her sides. He watched her attempt to get her anger under control. For a few moments, he thought she would send the vase on the table next to her toward his head, but she reined herself in.

  “You told me that if I ever needed help, I should come to you. I should have known better than to trust you. Mark may think you have a heart under your detached façade, but he’s wrong.” She stood and grabbed her cloak from the back of her chair. “I’ll handle the problem myself.”

  He cursed himself and considered following her once again but decided against it.

  Instead he rang for Meadows. When the valet appeared, he said, “I want Miss Halverston followed and guarded. She should be in the sight of one of my men any time she leaves her aunt’s residence.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  “No, that is all.” He sat at his desk and proceeded to drain the rest of the whiskey.

  His last thought before he passed out over the hard wooden surface was that he could never drink enough to forget the feelings Amanda stirred in him. Feelings a man like him should never have.

  *

  Amanda’s head throbbed from anger and tension as she swung herself over her balcony and entered her room. She’d known Rhys was an ass, but she’d never expected him to deny her assistance when she was in such dire circumstances. Of course,

  technically, he hadn’t denied her, he’d simply made such an unattractive offer she’d been compelled to refuse.

  A daily chance to seduce her, indeed. Did he really think she’d be so foolish as to agree to that? She should have left as soon as she realized how drunk he was. She thought of all the things her father had agreed to when he was in such a state and shuddered. At least she’d been wise enough to escape him. Now she knew to keep her distance from Rhys. Despite what Mark said, his friend was no gentleman.

  Now she was truly on her own. Somehow though, she would manage. She’d done every other important thing in her life without assistance. She would take care of this too.

  She considered the possibility that the man who was plaguing her was a regular customer at the tavern where he expected her to deliver the money. She would sneak out again the following night and hide near the rendezvous point. She still had the pistol she’d “borrowed” from her father’s collection and a knife her cousin had given her. She would carry those and pray she could defend herself if the need arose. Her plan was dangerous, but she’d faced danger before. She’d only been sixteen when she ran away from home to avoid the repugnant marriage her father had arranged for her. She’d survived that. She would survive this too.

  *

  Rhys squeezed his eyes shut against the bright sunlight assaulting his head, but the pain of even that slight movement made his stomach roil. He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up, keeping his eyes closed and shielded with his hand.

  His back muscles had seized up like solid rock from sleeping at his desk, and his neck felt like someone had been rotating his head around in circles. But his muscular discomforts were nothing compared to the pounding in his head. Once he was upright, he had to remain perfectly still lest he vomit onto his plush carpet.

  As he sat there trying to simply breathe, he got the nagging feeling something important had happened which he didn’t remember. But his hangover obscured any possibility of thinking.

  Before he could get himself steady enough make his way to his room where he could continue to sleep on a blissfully soft mattress, Meadows entered. “Mr. Stanton, do you require some assistance?”

  “No,” he snapped. He regretted speaking as his stomach made a violent pitch.

  “Lord Farrington is here to see you, sir.”

  “Farrington? What the hell does he want?”

  Meadows gave a look of disgust. His valet must hate Farrington almost as much as he did. “He did not inform me of the purpose of his visit.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have. Tell him to return tomorrow. I…” He paused while he fought off a particularly menacing wave of nausea. “I cannot see anyone today.”

  “He said it was most urgent, sir. I’ve already tried to send him away. He says he will wait however long he must.”

  “Blast him to hell! Tell him I will be with him in half an hour, and don’t feel compelled to offer the bastard any refreshment.”

  “Yes, sir.” Meadows turned to leave.

  “Meadows.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did something happen last night that
I should remember?” He hated having to ask, but he’d learned years ago to trust his instincts.

  “Miss Halverston called on you. She was unchaperoned and curiously dressed. You spoke with her, then she left rather abruptly.” Slowly the evening came back to him. The memory did nothing for his headache or his stomach. “Thank you. Please bring one of those magic powders of yours to my room.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away.” Meadows gave him a look that bordered on disapproving.

  As Rhys ascended the stairs at a snail’s pace, the details of the evening came to him in flashes. Amanda in those delectable breeches, her thighs plainly defined. Her running for the door and him restraining her from leaving. The warm skin of her arm heating his

  hand where he held her. His ludicrous ultimatum. What had he been about? Mark would murder him if Amanda ever revealed what he’d said.

  The only thing he could do was call on Amanda, apologize, and offer his assistance free of charge. And he had to get to her fast. He could only imagine what sort of ridiculous scheme she was planning to catch her attacker on her own.

  But first he had to get rid of Farrington. What was the bastard doing here? The last time they’d met, Rhys had made it perfectly clear that he was done with Farrington and his organization.

  After taking the powder Meadows brought him, he splashed ice cold water on his face, dressed, and took a look at himself in the mirror. He looked slightly green and more than a bit like he’d been run over by a coach and four.

  When Rhys found him, Lord Farrington was making himself at home in the library.

  He’d leaned back in one of the cherry armchairs with the black leather upholstery Rhys’s sister had cooed over while decorating the house. He almost laughed when he thought of her insistence that he live in style. Though he had to admit, she’d chosen furniture to suit his taste.