Seduction Wears Sapphires

by Renee Bernard

  Caroline’s heart pounded in her ears as he responded, plunging into her, deeper and deeper, harder and faster, until she was dizzy with the pain and pleasure of it. He lifted her hips to fill her completely and she cried out as the base of his cock worked against her clit at the same instant he rocked against the very entrance to her womb.

  He moved into her, and she began to counter him, drawing against him, her primal hunger yet unsatisfied. She wanted nothing more than for the connection between them to remain unbroken. It was intoxicating to see him above her, to watch his body come into hers, and to feel her muscles contracting around him, milking him and pulling him deeper and deeper inside until she couldn’t feel where she ended and he began.

  More. God help me, I would have more of him—even now.

  The red-hot coil inside of her tightened again and her eyes widened in shock as she realized what was happening.

  Ashe must have sensed it as well, as he took command of her, pumping into her faster and faster until she screamed in release. Caroline felt him tense in her arms as his scalding sweet crème jetted inside of her and Ashe groaned as the world stilled and he spent himself at last.

  After several minutes, he gingerly freed himself and Caroline winced at the strange ache at the loss. He drew his fingers across her brow, his expression sincerely concerned. “Are you in pain?”

  She shook her head, marveling that only now did she feel shy with him. “No. It was . . .” Words escaped her. How would anyone describe such a thing?

  He kissed her, a gentler echo of his previous touch. “Be honest.”

  “I cannot say.” She blushed furiously. “Perhaps another attempt and I’ll come up with the proper description?”

  His smile warmed her all the way to her toes, and she had to look away for fear he would think her daft. “You are not nearly the rogue you imagine, Mr. Blackwell,” she spoke softly, her voice drowsy as she began to drift off.

  “And how is that?”

  “Because if it’s true I came to your rooms unaware of myself, you never took advantage of me.”

  “If you came to my rooms?”

  She pushed against him in a lazy, playful protest. “You are not a cad, sir.”

  “I cannot make you out. You’re a puzzle to me each and every minute—awake or asleep. You argue my every assertion, ruin my ability to think straight, and you would still champion me?”

  She answered him with a kiss, sweet and soft, with the first hint of skills that he alone had taught her. “Tell me the truth, Ashe. You never did answer my questions before.”

  He shook his head then pressed his lips to the soft pulse at her temple. “Another time, my lovely Quaker. Another time.”

  To hell with the consequences!

  Ashe tried to summon a sense of remorse or even distress at the risk of bedding this woman, but something different was happening.

  He wanted more.

  How much suffering did a man have to do before the balance of the scales might allow for some small taste of happiness?

  Have I paid for my sins?

  Surely the answer was yes. Because instead of scrambling to recover his balance and hide the evidence of this indiscretion, Ashe felt a flash of triumph at possessing her. If they were discovered, there could only be one conclusion.

  She would be forced to marry him.

  The idea failed to shock him.

  Why not the terrier? She pleases me and I would be guaranteed a life without a moment of boredom or quiet. She’s stubborn enough to hold her own and she challenges me. We get along well enough and the house is already running better with a woman in it. Hell! Even my grandfather likes her and approves of her character.

  It couldn’t be that hard to convince her, could it? I’m not such a dreadful catch, no matter what she’s heard.

  But she’d spoken of a future awaiting her in Boston, and Ashe wasn’t sure what that entailed. It was difficult to compete with an unknown, and he didn’t like the idea of a rival waiting back in Boston to enjoy her kisses.

  I’ll prove to her that I’m the better man. And when she’s forced to admit an addiction to my kisses, she’ll have no more thoughts of returning to America.

  His brow furrowed, his own conscience stinging at the direction of his thoughts. I can’t trap her or force her to do anything. If I’ve learned anything about my chaperone, I’ve at least learned that much.

  And proving that I’m a better man . . .

  Caroline’s no fool.

  I’ll have to tread carefully to let things unfold—without a scandal, without hurting her, and without letting her go.

  Chapter

  13

  In the dark gray hour before dawn, before the house was awake, Ashe stared at the woman sleeping in his arms by the light of the candle by the bedside. She’d defied every perception he’d had of her and proven that however fetching she’d been while sleepwalking, aware and alive in his arms she was incomparable. Her reserve had fallen away as gracefully as the silk from her body.

  As if sensing his scrutiny, her eyelashes fluttered open, her brown eyes a molten caramel in the low light as she focused on his. “You’re thinking and not sleeping, Mr. Blackwell.”

  “I’m trying not to think about your next note to my grandfather,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Oh!” Her expression held a flash of alarm and she tensed against him. “Now it is my turn to think.”

  “Nonsense,” he assured her softly, placing a kiss on her furrowed brow. “This is the sort of dilemma that is never solved by thinking.”

  She opened her mouth as if to protest but closed it just as quickly as the irony of preaching reason in her current state of delectable compromise struck home. Ashe reached up to smooth her cheek with his fingers, marveling at the precious gift of her innocence and genuine concern for consequences. He cleared his throat, redirecting her attention from the panic stirring behind her eyes. “Caroline, it was a jest. There is no harm here.”

  “I hardly think this . . . I mean . . .” She pulled the coverlet around herself tightly, looking shy and unsure of herself. “I would never wish to see you hurt by . . . my actions.”

  Her actions? Does she think to take the blame for this?

  “Shouldn’t I be the one making that speech? But if you’re referring to the business with my grandfather, wagers and contracts have nothing to do with us, Caroline.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “Wagers and contracts have everything to do with us, Mr. Blackwell, but when you—touch me like that, you make it difficult to recall the particulars.”

  “Let the world stay outside the gates, Caroline. The servants will say nothing and so, for now, my life is in your hands. But”—he kissed the soft indent of each of her palms—“I find I’m not fearful. I’ve lived in fear for too long to let it rule me in this.”

  She smiled, her expression pure disbelief. “What fear has ruled you until this moment, Ashe?”

  Ashe closed his eyes for a second, rueful of his unguarded admission. I am far too comfortable with you, my American, and I’m forgetting to watch what I say. He gave her his most cavalier smile, trailing his fingers across her collarbone to distract her from the topic. “I think I have a deep fear of chaperones.”

  She struck him playfully on the arm. “You aren’t afraid of anything!”

  Ah, if only you knew, Caroline, but I have more than my share of demons.

  “For now, it’s your reputation that we have to protect at all costs.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock before she realized it and regained her composure. “My reputation? I don’t think anyone would think . . . I am too sensible a woman for your friends to suspect you would even look twice, Ashe.”

  “You’re naïve if you think they aren’t already placing wagers on how soon I’ll have you thoroughly corrupted. I should hire a chaperone for you.”

  “If I wasn’t in need of one before, wouldn’t another set of eyes only add to the . . . risk of exposure?”


  “For a woman new to subterfuge, you have a gift for the details. You’re probably right.”

  “Then perhaps this woman of subterfuge should return to her room, Ashe.”

  She began to slide off the bed, retrieving her wrap, but Ashe gently caught her hand. “Wait.”

  “The servants may already be up. I cannot . . .”

  He pulled her back onto the bed, gently capturing her beneath him and cradling her face in his hands. “Caroline, whatever else you believe about me, please believe this one thing—I said I was thinking about your notes to my grandfather this morning, but I care nothing for it. My first concern was for you. I would not have you wronged by what has begun between us. I am humbled by this . . . change. Don’t retreat from me, Caroline.”

  “I’m not sure what to feel, Ashe.” Eyes that she’d averted met his at last, and he could read the uncertainty and raw emotion reflected there. “It isn’t that I would abandon—this. But I am unpracticed at seductions and games.”

  “I would not have you any other way, my dear Miss Townsend.”

  Her cheeks colored beautifully at the compliment, her squirm of embarrassment making Ashe’s body respond at the delicious friction. “I . . . I don’t think I can face a withering look from Mr. Godwin,” she whispered. “Please, Ashe.”

  Something in her voice gave him pause, and Ashe realized that her shame was tangible and almost sweet. She was so different from the parade of callous creatures who had graced his bed that it made his breath catch in his throat. She wasn’t exaggerating her discomfort but trustingly confessing it to him as her protector. Any thought of overriding her concerns and keeping her abed bled away. Instead, Ashe wanted to erase her fears and prove that even now he could shield someone from harm.

  “Godwin’s silences can be a little daunting,” he agreed softly. “Mind, I don’t pay him much attention anymore. But if you prefer to return to your room, I’ll escort you there and make sure that we avoid discovery. Agreed?”

  She nodded slowly, accepting her wrap from his hands. “Thank you, Ashe.”

  Thank you? Ashe wasn’t sure how to feel about the strange and delicate truce between them. He’d taken her virginity and, by every measure, ruined the girl with unapologetic raw lust. It was unfamiliar territory, even for an avid hunter, and the polite ritual of locating one’s clothes, helping her dress, and bringing her to her room felt awkward. Part of him wanted to seize her and drag her back into bed until she’d spent herself so much that she didn’t care if all of London strolled by for a glance.

  But another part of him acknowledged the folly of it and the need for discretion.

  I want to protect you. But how do I protect you and let you go after last night?

  He tied his own dressing gown and quietly walked her down the dim hallway, all too aware that there wouldn’t be an answer. At her door, he kissed her again, a slow, sweet farewell that felt like a brand on his skin.

  “There is no retreat, Caroline,” he whispered, and she shivered against him.

  “No.” She sighed. “No retreat.”

  She crawled in between the cool, soft sheets of her own bed, curling around one of her pillows while her thoughts churned. It was a tangled moral dilemma that would have been easier to solve if she weren’t so irrevocably blind at its center. She’d given in to her desires and destroyed her chances for a better life. But the panic she’d felt had been for Ashe.

  I’m a fool. I’ve forfeited everything in a single night and all I can think to worry about is protecting Ashe. There is something he’s not telling me, and it has nothing to do with wagers. But whatever holds him, I cannot deny my heart now.

  Or deny her body . . . Even now it clamored for more of his touch and ached at the strange, lonely expanse of her bed. She covered her eyes with her hands and wondered what kind of woman failed to mourn the sacrifice of her virginity but instead felt only elation and longing. I’ve abandoned my reason.

  But I cannot abandon my honor.

  The urge to confess the full truth of her agreement with his grandfather had been unbearable. But telling Ashe about the twenty thousand pounds meant risking more than his censure. It meant that he would see her like all the other women in his life who took payment for their time. All her talk about honoring their grandfathers’ friendship would look like a lie. And he would realize that her eccentricities pointed toward nothing more than poverty.

  Impossible!

  But if she kept the secret of her seduction from his grandfather, she would be no better than a thief.

  An honorable woman would end it and walk away.

  Caroline struck her pillow with her fist in frustration. I’m not going anywhere! Because I want him so much I can’t breathe and I’m too weak not to beg him to touch me again. I want more. I want to know every forbidden thing he’s mastered and experience it all at his command.

  “So much for the Quaker.” She sighed in the dark.

  But each illicit encounter would mean living a lie and risking his fortune.

  She shifted restlessly and then became very still as she seized on her decision.

  I’ll keep his secrets to protect him but I won’t be rewarded for . . . loving him.

  She kicked back the covers and climbed out of the bed to find a lamp. Caroline then settled in at the small desk with her books and laid out her pen and ink.

  I’ll forfeit Grandfather Walker’s reward since I’ve learned that I am such a wanton woman, but I’ll phrase it so that I don’t reveal what’s happened to damage the older man’s trust. Grandfather and grandson deserve a new start and a successful Season.

  It was harder and harder to think of the college—to think of a future without her dreams. She’d given in to her emotions and she wasn’t sure what her future held. Once he had his fill of seduction, then she would have nothing to look forward to but a return to the grueling poverty of her life in Boston, cold classrooms and loveless years.

  No retreat.

  He’d asked her not to retreat and spoken of change . . . but he’d made no promises and no declarations of affection beyond the moment.

  Not that she expected anything of him except what he’d honestly admitted he was capable of—passion. Ashe wasn’t a man to give his heart away after losing it once, and Caroline was too pragmatic a woman to hold her breath waiting for it.

  But my heart is my own, and I’m not going to squander his kisses.

  She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began her note to the elder Blackwell with a soft sigh of surrender to the Fates.

  Chapter

  14

  The music room was an oasis of calm and Caroline felt very brave as she sat at the piano and slowly and soundlessly depressed the keys. If his mother’s spirit were present, Caroline had no desire to offend by actually making an amateur noise on the beautiful instrument. It was a stately monument with inset rosewood flowers along its gilt edges—a lady’s instrument evoking a grace and sense of self-possession that Caroline longed to feel.

  The morning had been worse than she’d anticipated when she’d been informed that Ashe had left the house for his usual appointment with Mr. Rutherford at their sports club.

  Caroline’s nerves were on edge. Of all the mornings for him to disappear! She’d longed for some reassurance from him, some show or action that would make the previous night’s dream more real. Instead, all her fears and doubts had threatened to send her running until she’d walked past the music room.

  Now, she communed with spirits she had never met and took comfort from orderly polished surfaces and the faint smell of oranges and honeysuckle.

  “Pardon, Miss Townsend, but there is a Mr. Yardley to see you,” Godwin announced from the doorway. “I have asked him to wait in the green salon downstairs.”

  “To see me?” Caroline stood up from the bench in surprise. “I . . . suppose that’s . . .” She swallowed, hating the flood of awkward emotions that threatened to turn her into a babbling idiot. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Godw
in. I’ll be right down.”

  Within moments, he was before her, openly enjoying the effect of an uninvited visit. The man was even more pale and overblown in daylight, in a bright green morning coat embroidered with flowers at the cuffs. He made a deep bow, only to look up with a wry grin. “You look very lovely this morning, Miss Townsend, though I should apologize for calling so early after such a late and exhausting evening.”

  Caroline forced herself not to groan at the thought of the nature of her late and exhausting night but smiled instead and prayed her color didn’t give anything away. “Mr. Blackwell is at his sports club this morning and will regret not seeing you, I’m sure.” The lie tasted like tin in her mouth, but she wasn’t going to admit that she knew there was no affection between Ashe and his cousin.

  “At his sports club? Well, that’s for the best since I’d hoped to call when we could talk, just the two of us, uninterrupted.”

  “I can’t imagine what conversation we could have that would require such privacy, Mr. Yardley. I mean”—she took a steadying breath, wishing she had a better command of English etiquette to politely send the man away—“since we’ve only just met, it seems an odd request.”

  “I didn’t mean to give offense, Miss Townsend,” he said, gesturing for her to be seated. “It was because of our new acquaintance I thought to make my case.”

  Caroline sat down carefully on the chair’s edge. “Your case?”

  “I’ll be as direct as I may.” Winston took the chair across from her in a theatrical flourish. “I am all too aware that my cousin holds me in poor regard, Miss Townsend. And I was eager to ensure that your view was not altogether prejudiced against me.”

  Caroline kept her hands firmly clenched in her lap. “My opinions are my own, and Mr. Blackwell has kept his to himself, so you’ve no concerns on this subject. W-was there anything else?”

  “Oh, please! If you think to heal some familial gap by politely pleading ignorance, I can assure you there is no need. Ashe thinks little of ordinary men like myself who strive to stay on a moral path of discipline and self-sacrifice.” Mr. Yardley placed his hand on his ostentatious waistcoat just over his heart. “I hope only to better myself, Miss Townsend.”