The Rogue's Seduction

by Georgina Devon

  The scar on his cheek twitched. ‘How proper of you to remind me that, without good providence, I might be one.’

  ‘That was never my intention,’ she said, hurt that he thought her capable of trying to inflict pain. ‘I merely meant that you do the job well.’

  He turned so that his eyes bored into hers. ‘My apologies, then. Your brother would not have hesitated to make the comparison and mean every cruel innuendo possible.’

  She surged up, forgetting her ankle in her ire. ‘My brother is a gentleman and would do no such thing. You may think what you wish of me, but leave my brother out of this. He has nothing to do with what is between us.’

  The words were out of her mouth in a rush, followed by a sharp intake of breath as her ankle buckled under her weight. She sank with a moan back into the chair. Lillith squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes. He was instantly beside her.

  ‘You always did think your brother a paragon,’ he said through clenched teeth as his fingers lifted her skirt enough to reveal her injured leg. ‘You have not taken off your stocking.’

  ‘No, I have not.’ She forced the tears back even as one escaped to trickle down her cheek.

  He reached up and caught the single drop on his forefinger. His touch tugged all the way to her toes. Her heart twisted in knots when he sucked the moisture from his skin, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Tension mixed with anger and pain to create a heady sense of invulnerability. ‘A maid would do better than you, Perth.’

  ‘I have had plenty of practice wrapping sprains and mending breaks.’

  ‘No doubt you have,’ she said with a sardonic curl on lip. ‘Still, I think, for propriety’s sake, a maid is better.’

  ‘Propriety is not one of my concerns,’ he said, stroking the inner portion of her calf. ‘Discretion, yes.’

  Tingles shot up her leg, making her catch her breath. ‘Do you intend to seduce me? Is that what this is all about?’

  The hot leap of desire in his dark eyes told her everything. But why?

  ‘I am not in the habit of abducting women,’ he murmured, never taking his gaze from her. ‘When I do so, I have a purpose. You have discovered it,’ he finished with a hard smile that twisted the white scar crossing his cheek. ‘But first, we must make sure that you are capable of the pleasure when it comes.’

  ‘Pleasure?’ She raised one pale brow, not surprised by his confidence so much as irritated at his assumption that she would succumb to him.

  His hand slipped higher, igniting sparks along her inner leg. His eyes never left hers. When she gasped in surprise and…pleasure…at his touch, his smile hardened. Only then did she jolt into complete realisation of what he did.

  Her hand met his face in a loud smack that surprised her. It had been unconscious. His head jerked, the cheek with his scar reddened.

  ‘I…I…’ She floundered. ‘You go too far, Perth,’

  ‘I don’t go far enough. Not yet.’ His voice was cold. His hand dropped back to her ankle. ‘Remove your stocking or I will do so.’

  His change of topic took her breath away. He always had been mercurial.

  ‘Leave the room and I will.’

  Disgust twisted his mouth. ‘We have been down that road before.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he slid both hands up her leg to her knee. His nimble fingers caught hold of her garter and pulled it off. The stocking sagged to her ankle and he rolled the delicate silk covering from her foot. In spite of his gentleness, her ankle was swollen and the removal hurt. Lillith bit her inner cheek and held her breath to keep from crying in pain.

  Perth frowned. ‘This should have been wrapped immediately.’

  ‘I shall be fine if you will leave me alone and allow me to rest.’

  ‘You will be fine after this is wrapped and you have stayed off it for several days at the least.’

  She opened her mouth to retort, but he started wrapping the roll of linen around her ankle and the agony took away all thought of what she had intended to say. For long minutes she alternated holding her breath with shallow breathing. Neither helped. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something different, something pleasant. All she could think about were Perth’s eyes when his hands had slid up her leg, his passion riding him like a demon. She gave up.

  She opened her eyes and noted that his no longer held emotion. ‘That hurt. I am sorry,’ he said quietly.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak without crying.

  He opened a flask and poured a thick liquid, then diluted it with a brown liquid and held the mixture to her. ‘Drink this. It will help.’

  ‘Laudanum?’

  ‘You should have had it before, but somehow it did not work that way,’ he said with a wry twist of full lips.

  Still unwilling to speak much, she took the glass and downed the bitter drink in one long gulp. It hit her empty stomach like a bomb.

  She gasped and coughed. ‘What was that?’ she asked when she finally caught her breath.

  ‘Laudanum,’ he said, rising in one swift, fluid motion so that his powerful legs were close enough she could run her hands down his flanks.

  She shook her head to try and clear it. ‘Yes, I know there was laudanum in it. But what else?’

  ‘Scotch whisky,’ he said shortly. ‘The combination should take care of any lingering discomfort. We have a long way to go today and cannot afford to stay here any longer.’ He cast a rueful glance at the tray of food. ‘I have ordered a packed lunch and a flask of tea.’

  ‘I shall have to be more suspicious of what you feed me,’ she managed to whisper, even though the concoction threatened to spin her head.

  ‘Yes, you shall,’ he said, moving to the bed and yanking off the quilt. In several swift strides he was beside her again and threw the cover over her shoulders.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, batting ineffectually at the quilt. ‘I have a cape, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, you do and it is safely in the coach. Summer is over although autumn is not yet upon us. Later this evening the air will be cool and this will keep you warm for I intend to travel straight through to our destination.’

  She tried to push the thing away, but his hands held it secured at her throat as he leaned down so that his face was inches from hers. Without warning, his mouth crushed hers. His lips moved against hers and his tongue swept inside. Lillith’s head fell back as he deepened the kiss. Her senses swirled out of control. Her spine arched and to her shame, she would have clasped her hands in his hair had they not been secured under the quilt.

  Finally, when she thought that her mind and body were no longer hers to command, he ended the kiss. Her eyelids were heavy as leaded weights, her abdomen was a pool of lava. Yet when she forced her eyes open, his met hers with cool detachment. Her world had spun out of control while he had cold-heartedly seduced her.

  Shame flooded her cheeks.

  ‘Bas—’ His fingers pressed against her lips, keeping her from saying the only word she knew that adequately described him.

  ‘Careful, Lady de Lisle. You don’t want to say things you will regret later.’

  ‘I will regret nothing later,’ she stated. Except that kiss and my response. She turned away from his knowing look and wished for the strength to resist him.

  Before she could think of anything else to say or try once more to free herself from the heavy folds of cloth, he swept her up into his arms. Her hair, already loose, tumbled down her back. Disgusted by her cowardice and yet unwilling to look at the faces of anyone who would see her in this wanton position, she turned her face against his shoulder and let the length of her hair cover her face.

  It was not so easy to shut out the sensations that Perth’s closeness ignited in her body. She felt every beat of his heart and every breath he took.

  She trembled as he carried her from the room and down the stairs, the food uneaten and forgotten. Even her stocking lay unmissed in the room.
>
  Chills set in, making her shake. Chills that no amount of warmth or covering could abate. He scared her, but her reaction to him scared her even more.

  Chapter Three

  The inside of the carriage was smaller than Lillith remembered. Perth sat across from her, his knees meeting hers. This had not occurred before. Her nerves jangled.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Perth asked, opening the basket packed by the innkeeper.

  Roast beef and fresh baked bread assaulted her nostrils. Belatedly, she remembered the food left uneaten in the inn and her stocking left for someone else to find. Her stomach rumbled. ‘That would certainly help ease the effects of your concoction,’ she said tartly, wishing something could ease the longing she felt for him.

  ‘Food will help,’ he agreed. ‘You will need another dose in a couple of hours if you are to keep the pain at bay. You should eat something before then.’

  She grimaced. Much as she disliked the mixture, he was right. Her ankle had hurt so badly and now it was a dull throb. She even thought she might be able to escape if the sensation stayed at this level.

  He eyed her. ‘I am sure you feel much better, but you still are in no shape to stand on that foot.’

  Had he read her mind? Or had her face been that transparent? She had never been good at hiding her emotions.

  Her much older brother, Mathias, had known instantly ten years before when she’d first fallen in love with Perth. Mathias had told her then that she should never play cards. Her face gave away every thought and feeling she had. De Lisle, on the other hand, had called her a cold fish with a face that showed nothing. Thank goodness for that. However, it seemed that, like Mathias, Perth could read her like a well-marked map.

  She sighed as she took the plate of cold beef and buttered bread Perth handed across the too-small space separating them. She was ravenous. The first bites hit with a soothing effect that went a long way to calming her nerves. Several mouthfuls later, Perth handed her a heavy earthenware mug filled with steaming hot tea. She drank it in large gulps.

  ‘Easy,’ he muttered. ‘You will make yourself ill.’

  She continued drinking. ‘I was hungry and thirsty. You are less than gracious to your unwilling guests.’

  He shrugged, the greatcoat he had put back on emphasising his broad shoulders. ‘You had only to ask.’

  She made an unladylike face and nearly spilled what little remained of her tea. ‘Yes, and you would have told me to wait until we stopped.’

  ‘Probably,’ he agreed, finishing off his large helping of food. He took a gold flask out of the side pocket in the coach and took a swig.

  Lillith smelled the distinct odour of the brown liquid he had put in with her laudanum. She shuddered. ‘How can you drink that barbarous stuff? It is like swallowing liquid fire.’

  He eyed her. ‘Have you ever swallowed fire?’ he asked flatly, a jaundiced look on his face.

  ‘Of course not. That is merely a manner of speech.’

  ‘As are so many other words,’ he said harshly. ‘I happen to like whisky. It burns going down but I know what I’m drinking. It is honest. Not many things in life are.’ He took another swig. ‘I always know what to expect from it.’

  She set her empty plate and mug beside her on the leather seat before primly folding her hands in her lap. ‘Are you talking about something besides whisky?’

  ‘We are talking about whatever you think we are talking about,’ he answered.

  ‘I don’t play riddle games,’ she said on a sniff.

  ‘Neither do I—any more.’

  He replaced the flask and turned his attention to the outside. Fields lay fallow. Sheep roamed everywhere. Occasionally they passed a farmhouse. The road itself was dirt and it would be a morass in the rain. Still, they kept a good pace.

  ‘Will we be at your destination soon?’ she asked.

  ‘Soon enough.’

  He did not even look at her. Frustration made her itch to thump him on the chest and demand that he pay attention to her. But she did nothing. Instead, she took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself. They did no good.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she finally asked. ‘Why now after all this time?’

  Still he did not look at her. She thought he did not intend to answer her. She was wrong.

  ‘You are a widow now.’

  Long minutes went by. Lillith waited with all the patience at her command for him to continue. She started twiddling with her fingers. Thankfully the gloves she wore kept her from picking at her nails, a bad habit she had developed shortly after marrying de Lisle.

  ‘I have been a widow for just over a year.’

  ‘The proper time of mourning,’ he murmured. Without warning he turned and his dark eyes bored into her. ‘A year would hardly be time enough to get over someone you truly and deeply loved.’

  She felt under attack. She suspected there were things he was not saying. His words hinted at meanings other than those he spoke directly of. He seemed to think she should understand what he really meant and she did not. Her sense of ill usage mounted.

  ‘What are you really talking about?’ she demanded.

  His countenance darkened. Instead of speaking, he retrieved his cane and used it to bang on the roof again. Within minutes the carriage came to a halt. He flung open the door and jumped out. His greatcoat flapped in the wind and his pale cheeks took on a ruddy hue. He signalled to his groom and was soon mounted on the horse he had ridden while abducting her.

  Her sense of ill usage intensified until she wanted to stick her head out of the window and scream at him. What kind of understanding could they reach when he would not talk to her?

  None. Absolutely none.

  Time passed and Lillith struggled under its slow hand. Never one to remain idle for even short periods, this enforced inactivity for long hours was trying. A book, her needlework, even mending would be welcome. Anything to occupy her mind and keep her from brooding on Perth and his intentions, which she knew to be dishonourable.

  What had been a dull throb in her ankle had increased to nearly the original pain. That did nothing to improve her disposition. Nor did having to admit to herself that Perth’s remedy of laudanum and whisky had worked and would very likely work again.

  With a sigh of defeat, she picked up the gold-handled cane Perth had discarded on the seat across from her and rapped the roof. The Earl, drat his sense, had been right in that she needed to mend quickly and constant pain did not help achieve that end.

  The carriage rolled to a reluctant halt. The wheels had barely stopped when Perth pulled open the door and scowled at her.

  ‘Are you worse?’

  His voice was deep and, if she had not known better, she would have said worried. She frowned at him, not wanting to tell him she wanted another draught of his concoction, but knowing it would be for the best. She had never been good at defeat—no matter who her opponent was.

  ‘Yes.’ She watched his black brows raise in sardonic acceptance.

  ‘Do you want another draught?’

  Her frown deepened. ‘Are you going to stoop so low as to make me beg?’

  ‘I am simply looking for clarification.’

  She gripped her hands together. ‘You are plainly looking to provoke me, which you are all too ready to do. Yes. Yes, I would like another measure of that swill you call a remedy. Is that clear enough? Are you satisfied?’

  He made her a mock bow and entered the carriage and pulled several vials from the leather pocket on his side of the seat. Knowing she could have made the medicine herself had she known where everything was did not make her feel better. Within minutes he handed her the earthenware mug. She took it with ill-concealed ire.

  She gulped down the whisky and laudanum in two gulps. Her eyes watered. In spite of her intention to remain stoic while the mixture burned its way down her throat and to her ankle, she ended up coughing.

  ‘Some tea would help,’ Perth said almost gently.

  She
gasped in deep breaths. ‘Please.’

  He took the mug from her unresisting fingers and filled it. She took it back and sipped at the soothing drink. She had never been one to drink strong alcohol. Her father and brother’s examples had been enough for her to see the harm. She was not even fond of ratafia, its sweet almond flavour cloying to her sense of smell and taste. Thus the strong liquor went right to her head.

  ‘That should help the pain and allow you to sleep,’ Perth said.

  She looked at him with jaundice. ‘In a moving carriage?’

  ‘You did once before.’

  She could not argue the fact. ‘How much longer?’ she asked, thinking from a distance cushioned by the alcohol that she sounded much like a child.

  He answered her with the obvious patience one would show to a recalcitrant child. ‘One more change of horses and then we should arrive by midnight.’

  ‘You planned well,’ she muttered. ‘Posting spare horses.’

  His lips twisted. ‘Wealth has its privileges.’

  Even in her present haze, she could not mistake the bitterness in his tone. Somehow it hurt her to hear him this way. ‘You were not always so jaded.’

  ‘Ten years ago I was young and idealistic. Today I am much more experienced.’ His voice was cold as a Scottish winter wind.

  ‘We are back to words within words,’ she said. ‘Ten years ago I married de Lisle. Is that what you are referring to?’

  ‘Ten years ago you left me waiting.’ He leaned his head to one side. A ray of late afternoon sunshine caught the scar on his right cheek and turned it fiery red. ‘I waited until evening, thinking you had been unable to escape.’

  ‘Mathias was supposed to meet you and tell you that I was no longer able to wed you against the wishes of my family.’

  His laugh was short and hard. ‘The family that sold you to a shrivelled-up old man with enough money to pay your brother’s gaming debts.’ His voice deepened. ‘Well, Mathias did not arrive till late.’