To Seduce a Bride

by Nicole Jordan

  Lily’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “You persuaded her to tell you, didn’t you? You charmed a confession out of her.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he shot back.

  “How did you even guess?”

  “I thought her behavior strangely forward, even for her. And I’ve learned to spot a ruse when I see it.”

  “Oh, yes, I forget,” Lily rejoined. “Females have been throwing themselves at your feet for aeons. So that display of concern for her injury—your rubbing her ankle so tenderly—was all for show, for my benefit?”

  “Indeed. Her ankle is perfectly sound.”

  Lily felt her fingers curl into fists as she remembered her fierce feelings of jealousy a moment ago. And Heath had deliberately stoked them, pretending to be interested in the beautiful other woman.

  Apparently he was not finished upbraiding her, though. “You admit that you approved Ada’s little scheme. What I want to know is why.”

  “I should think it obvious,” Lily retorted, starting to feel uncomfortable with his piercing regard.

  “According to Ada, you meant to prove that I am like your late father—eager to chase anything in skirts.”

  “That is part of it, yes.”

  Her answer made sparks flare in his eyes. “And you thought you could be rid of me by pawning me off on some other woman? Bloody hell, Lily.”

  When she winced at his fury, Heath’s jaw locked with the visible effort to control his temper. “What the devil were you thinking? Did you actually believe she could succeed in enticing me? That I would ever want a woman like her when I could have you?”

  Lily wrapped her arms around herself defensively. “Truthfully…yes. I thought that if she satisfied your carnal desires, you wouldn’t want me any longer.”

  “Dammit, Lily…” In frustration, he raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t merely want sex with you. I want you for my wife. If fucking was all I wanted, I could find any number of willing women to indulge me.”

  “I know,” Lily said in a small voice, feeling rather chastened by his argument.

  “And I am perfectly capable of finding my own mistress if I want one. I do not need your assistance. And I most assuredly don’t appreciate your deceit or your plotting.”

  Moving across to the sofa, she sank down. “I am sorry. I never should have allowed Ada to try and seduce you. Besides,” Lily added, biting her lower lip, “I never even considered the risk she was taking. She has a new patron, and it could have ruined her chances if he discovered she was dallying with you.”

  To Lily’s relief, Heath’s tone was a trifle less harsh when he spoke. “Is that the reason you interrupted us? Because you worried she might spoil her chances with her new protector?”

  “Ummm…not exactly.”

  “Then what, exactly?”

  Lily risked a glance at Heath. His jaw was still set in anger, she saw. “I…didn’t want you kissing her.”

  He stared for a moment before the hard line of his mouth eased. “You were jealous.”

  Feeling a betraying blush rise to her cheeks, Lily ducked her head. “Well…yes.”

  Silence reigned for a time. Then Heath came to sit beside her on the sofa. “I suppose I should be flattered. And encouraged. I must be making progress in my courtship if you were roused to jealousy.”

  The faint hint of humor in his tone made Lily stiffen. “Don’t raise your hopes too high, my lord. I still have no intention of marrying you.”

  She felt his gaze intensify on her again. “You acknowledge your jealousy, but you won’t consider my proposal? That makes little sense. Why are you so damned set against marrying me, Lily?”

  “I told you why.”

  “Because your parents’ union was hostile. It doesn’t follow that ours will be so.”

  Squaring her shoulders, Lily looked up. “If you had experienced their battles all during your childhood, you would not be so eager to wed, either.”

  His gaze bored into hers. “So you believe our marriage would be a battleground, like theirs was.”

  “I…don’t know,” Lily finally said. “But I am not willing to risk it. I don’t wish to be miserable for the rest of my life, the way my mother was.”

  A muscle flexed in Heath’s jaw. “You are equating me with your father again.” When Lily refused to comment, he made a sound like a growl. “What did he do to your mother that was so terrible?”

  Lily swallowed, her stomach clenching with the old, old pain. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “Damn and blast it, Lily! How can I defend myself as being different from your father if I haven’t a clue what he did?”

  “Very well….” The pain welled up inside as she choked out the words. “If you must know…he struck her! He beat her with his fists and felled her to the floor and then kicked her till she screamed. And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear it! So I grabbed up a knife and told Papa to leave her alone or I would kill him. And I meant it. I would have killed him had he raised his fists against her again. Is that what you wished to hear?”

  Her voice had risen practically to a shout, and when she ceased, her breath came in hoarse, uneven pants.

  Heath stared at her, his expression arrested. Lily stared back, gritting her teeth fiercely, refusing to look away. But her chest felt hard and heavy and tight, while the back of her throat ached and her eyes stung with tears.

  His expression softened then, and she read sympathy in the perceptive hazel depths.

  Swallowing hard, Lily averted her gaze from Heath’s suddenly gentle one. She didn’t want his sympathy, his pity. She didn’t want his tender touch, either—yet she was given no choice. She felt the warm, sliding pressure of his fingers as they raised her chin, compelling her to regard him.

  “So you were forced to protect your mother from your father’s violence,” he said, his tone very gentle.

  Nodding, Lily sat there rigidly, struggling to hold on to her composure. Her voice was a tearful rasp when she finally spoke. “My greatest regret was that I couldn’t help her further. A year later Mama finally took a lover to allay her misery, and then she was banished from her home and even her country. You…you know about the resulting scandals.”

  For a span of several heartbeats, Heath remained silent. Then he reached up to capture her face carefully between his palms. “I would never strike you, Lily. Never. I would never be physically violent with a woman, no matter the provocation.”

  She searched his face, his intent expression, and could give him no argument. Somehow she was certain Heath would not hurt her physically…but emotionally was another matter altogether.

  “Even so, I won’t allow any man to have that kind of power over me. As your wife, by law I would be little more than your chattel. If you chose to beat me—or even kill me—I would have no recourse.”

  Reflexively, Heath clenched his jaw at the ludicrous notion that he would ever raise a hand to Lily, although he supposed he could appreciate her perspective, even if it frustrated the devil out of him. But he forced himself to hide his frustration as he smoothed the knuckles of his hand across her cheekbone.

  Seeing her dark eyes so big and bright with incipient tears, he felt a fierce surge of protectiveness toward her—along with an intense, burning need to dig up her father from his grave and punish him for what he’d done to his wife and daughter.

  At least now, however, Heath better understood Lily’s fervent desire for independence. Her determination to carve out her own destiny. Her fear of putting her fate in any man’s hands. Even her stubborn determination to place him in the same category as her bastard father. With her bitter experience, she couldn’t trust that he would be any different.

  When his hand slid lower, giving a delicate massage to the curve of her neck, Lily stiffened and pulled back, obviously discomfited.

  “If you will pray excuse me…” Dashing a hand over her eyes to wipe away any trace of tears, she rose abruptly to her feet. Her fingers knotting togethe
r, she glanced down at Heath. “I am sorry if I made you angry by allowing Ada to attempt your seduction, but perhaps it was for the best. Now you know why I can never consent to be your wife.”

  With that barely audible murmur, she turned and quit the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  Heath sat there for a long while after she had gone, contemplating his courtship of Lily and how he should respond to her revelation.

  For one thing, he would have to show her indisputably that he was far, far different from her father, or any of the other men she’d known who treated women like chattel or used violence to hurt and dominate.

  Heath’s jaw hardened. He couldn’t stop thinking about that haunted pain in Lily’s eyes when she’d confessed about threatening her father in order to save her mother from assault. He remembered seeing that same look last week when Lily had chased O’Rourke from the house, brandishing a statue at his retreating back. And when she’d flung herself against the gang of bullies in the alley to defend a mongrel dog.

  It also explained why she’d insisted on kindness as a qualification for the candidates he invited to the soiree. And why she was so irate about the injustice done to some of the young women she’d taken under her wing here at the boardinghouse. And why she’d put herself out to help two of them escape a life of prostitution by finding them respectable jobs in her own home.

  Lily’s actions reflected her ferocious desire to protect the weak and helpless, which touched Heath with tenderness for her.

  Yet after learning about her father—after witnessing the pain in her eyes and hearing it in her voice—Heath finally realized just how difficult a task he faced, trying to win Lily’s hand in marriage. She would never let down her guard because she was afraid to give herself to any man, lover or husband.

  He would have to teach her about tenderness, about intimacy, about trust, that much was certain to him. She was like a wild woodland creature, cautious, wary, in need of coaxing, of gentling.

  He’d made a start last night when he’d held her in his arms, Heath decided. He would wager half his fortune that Lily had never felt such emotional closeness with a man before him.

  He’d never felt that kind of shared tenderness, either, and he knew it was very special.

  At the memory, Heath closed his eyes momentarily, recalling the naked feel of her pressed into the curve of his body, her warmth, her fragrance. He knew instinctively that Lily’s passion was something he alone could kindle—a thought that gave him primal satisfaction. But he wanted more than merely to control her body. Much more.

  He wanted Lily for his wife.

  Attaining that goal, however, would be the biggest challenge he’d ever faced. The decision to marry him had to be Lily’s. He couldn’t force her to accept him. She would have to take him for her husband because she wanted to.

  And very likely, the only reason she would want to was if she loved him enough to overcome her doubts and fears about him.

  Which meant he must strive to make her fall in love with him.

  Heath frowned darkly in contemplation. Perhaps using his sexual prowess was not the best way to win her heart after all. Nor was wooing Lily with marriage in mind. As long as she felt pursued and hounded by his courtship, she would keep her defenses unassailable.

  But what if he were to back off his campaign? What if he were to cease pursuing her?

  Admittedly, he could benefit from a respite himself. Every morning he woke with a painful arousal that wouldn’t cease. And each time he touched Lily, kissed her, held her, became more and more tormenting. If he had to endure another chaste night with her, making love to her without really making love to her, he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold back. He would give in to his fierce desire for her and make his possession irrevocable.

  But if he retreated, Heath mused, perhaps he could bring some discipline to the fire in his senses and manage a semblance of control over his hunger.

  It seemed a very wise step to avoid any further sexual intimacy with Lily at least. And an even wiser step to stop wooing her for now. To give her time to sort things out for herself instead of constantly pressing her to marry him.

  Meanwhile, Heath thought, slowly nodding with resolve, he would use the opportunity to determine how to earn Lily’s trust and respect, to show her a better, more admirable side of his character, so she would have no doubt that he was utterly and completely different from the kind of man she despised and feared.

  Chapter Twelve

  It is very strange. He seems to have abandoned the game.

  —Lily to Fanny

  It surprised Lily when she saw nothing of Heath the following day. He had called on her so regularly that she expected him to continue the same pattern. Yet she didn’t hear a word from him on Wednesday, not even a note.

  She heard nothing from him on Thursday, either, and was greatly puzzled to learn that he had invited Fleur and Chantel to share his box at the theater that evening without even mentioning the invitation to her.

  Lord Poole was to accompany them, Lily discovered. Since the night of the soiree, the viscount had practically lived at the boardinghouse, and was obviously enamored of Chantel—a development that delighted the aging beauty and warmed Lily’s heart.

  Having declined Heath’s invitation to the theater once before, Lily could hardly object to being excluded this time, but when he arrived to collect the courtesans, he said barely a word to her.

  Fleur and Chantel didn’t seem to notice, they were so excited about the treat Lord Claybourne was offering them. They bustled about the entrance hall, laughing and chattering gaily as they collected wraps and fans.

  When they had gone—after telling Lily not to wait up since they were to dine at a fashionable hotel after the play—the echo of their gaiety made the house seem rather quiet.

  Her spirits sinking as a consequence, Lily wandered into the drawing room in search of something to read. She felt at loose ends now that the soiree was over, since her time was much less occupied. Oh, she was still teaching lessons to several of her pupils at their request, but the urgency was gone for most of the girls, at least those who had secured new protectors.

  Seeing a copy of the daily newspaper, The Morning Post, lying on a table, Lily began skimming the pages. Fleur and Chantel subscribed to both the morning and evening papers, since they liked to pore over the society and fashion sections. Normally the items about books, Parliamentary proceedings, foreign news, and shipping reports interested Lily, but just now they failed to hold her attention.

  Instead, she kept wondering if Heath had abandoned his courtship of her. Perhaps he considered their game not worth finishing, given that she’d made her position about marrying him so clear.

  Strangely, the possibility disappointed her rather than relieving her. She should be very happy to be rid of him.

  Her regret was only temporary, Lily told herself. Heath’s absence would create something of a void in her life at the moment, since he’d been underfoot so much of late. But she would adjust. She couldn’t deny, however, that she had missed his presence over the past two days. Missed him teasing her and provoking her and arousing her—

  Determinedly Lily cut off that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on Heath’s plans for their courtship. Even so, she couldn’t help but wonder if their night of passion together had opened his eyes to her deficiencies. She knew very well, from Fanny and other sources, that a man’s carnal needs required fulfilling. And she was likely too inexperienced, too unskilled, too virginal, to satisfy a renowned lover like Heath.

  Indeed, it was surprising that he had abstained for as long as he had.

  Lily felt herself scowl as she remembered his terse declaration that he could find a mistress on his own, without her help. Perhaps he would do so now if he’d decided she wasn’t worth pursuing any longer.

  The notion of him making love to a new mistress made Lily’s stomach churn and lowered her spirits even further.

  Chidi
ng herself for being a fool, she set down the newspaper and rose, deciding to go up to her bedchamber to fetch the book Heath had brought her about travels in the South Seas. She had read it through once but had had little time to study it in depth, and the narrative was indeed fascinating, just as he’d promised.

  However, as she mounted the front staircase and reached the second floor landing, Lily heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing coming from down the corridor on her right. Turning that way, she followed the sounds to an open door.

  It was the bedchamber that Peg Wallace shared with two other lodgers. To her surprise, she found Peg sitting on one of the beds, her arm around a weeping young woman—one of the boarders who hadn’t found a patron at the soiree, Betty Dunst.

  Betty was crying inconsolably, low racking sobs that seemed to be dredged up from the bottom of her soul.

  When Lily entered tentatively, Peg looked up, her eyes bleak with sadness. “We are sorry to disturb you, Miss Loring. I meant to shut the door.”

  “Is Betty injured?” Lily asked quietly, approaching the bed.

  Peg gave a savage grimace, while Betty wailed harder and buried her face in her hands. “You might say so,” Peg replied. “She is with child.”

  Lily hesitated, not having any experience in such matters. “Is there any way I may help?”

  Grimly Peg shook her head. “I doubt so, Miss Loring. You are too fine a lady. But you are kind to offer,” Peg added quickly.

  Sitting beside Betty, Lily placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “At least tell me what is upsetting you so terribly.”

  Nodding shakily, Betty drew several deep breaths in an effort to control her weeping and wiped at her streaming eyes with the handkerchief she held clutched in her hand. “It is just…that I…don’t know what to do. I can’t keep the child. What will become of me if I try? When my belly swells too big…I cannot work.”

  Betty, Lily knew, was employed at a nearby gentleman’s club that was little more than a high-class brothel, and had worked there for two years. Betty was the daughter of the head gardener on a large estate in Dorsetshire. When she’d let herself be seduced by a groom at the estate, her father had cast her out of his house, so she came to London. She’d nearly starved before finding a position selling her body in a pleasure house. It was that or perish.