by Cheryl Holt
“The potion! Are you telling me that you think it was—”
“Helen?”
“Yes?”
“Be silent.”
At hearing him refer to her by her Christian name, she was too elated to object. She was sequestered with him, in the middle of the night, sprawled on her bed, and he’d just called her Helen!
Perhaps that blasted potion had been magic. Since she’d ingested it, she’d definitely changed, and if she went through much more of a transformation, there’d be nothing left of the person she’d been before they’d met.
Ordinary, pragmatic Helen Hamilton would be replaced by a licentious vixen who would do whatever he asked, who would be unconcerned over any fall from grace.
He dipped down and kissed her as he’d threatened he would, and she didn’t try to stop him.
If he thought she was a chaste young lady, he certainly didn’t show it. He trapped her in a viselike grip, while his mouth captured hers in a torrid embrace that made her pulse gallop and her senses soar.
He gave no quarter, took no care to ensure that she was amenable or content with his level of ardor. He simply leapt into the fray, intent on a demonstration of passion that was far beyond her limited understanding of how such encounters were carried out, but she wasn’t about to complain.
He seemed thoroughly smitten, and when he was such a dashing, handsome man, she couldn’t help but be flattered. She was eager to prove herself worthy of his attention, and she appeared to be skillfully participating.
For a female with no prior experience, she had an instinctual knack for carnal endeavor. She knew precisely what he wanted and how he planned to achieve it. Without restraint, she threw herself into the venture, and she was amazed to discover that the more enthusiastic her response, the more ardent he became.
His hands were everywhere, roaming across her face, her shoulders, her arms. Everything happened so rapidly, and with such a reckless abandon, that as she realized he was caressing one spot, he’d already moved on to another.
She opened her mouth to request that they slow down so she could catch her breath, but before she could speak, he slipped his tongue between her lips. He pushed it in and extracted it in a way that tickled her innards, pulled at her breasts and her womb.
They engaged in a merry dance that seduced and cajoled, and with scant effort, he had her overwhelmed and yearning for much more than she could ever have from him.
Their hips began to flex, their loins pressing together in a rhythm that matched the sparring of their tongues. They were proceeding toward a goal, though she couldn’t have said what it might be. She was excessively agitated, raw with a need she recognized to be womanly desire, and she could only hope that he would guide her to the end of the road.
He’d fanned a flame that she never should have allowed him to ignite, but at that moment, she was so aroused that she would have submitted to any wild deed—so long as he kept the pleasure coming.
Luckily, he saved her from herself. Just when she feared she might explode, he eased the rocking of his hips, their bodily motion ceasing. He frowned, looking irked again, as if he couldn’t remember why he was in her bed.
“I guess we’ve established something.” He sounded grouchy.
“What is that?”
“You were telling the truth.”
“I was? About what?”
“You’ve been kissed in the past”
“Told you so.” She smirked, glad to know that she’d been sufficiently competent to have fooled him.
“You behave yourself.”
“What?”
“You obviously like to dally, and I’d better not hear that you’re cavorting with any of the footmen.”
“Ooh, you vain beast!”
She tried to cuff him with a fist along the side of the head, but he was too quick. He seized her wrist, pried open her knuckles, and nuzzled her palm, sending a wave of butterflies swarming in her stomach.
“If you decide you’re in need of kissing,” he haughtily commanded, “I’ll see to it for you.”
“You’re awfully sure I enjoyed it enough to do it with you again.”
He scoffed. “You’ll want it—and fairly soon, too—if I’m any judge, which I am.”
He drew away onto his knees, and he rested his hands on her neck, then traced them down over her bosom to her breasts. For the briefest instant, he massaged them, as if calculating size and weight, and he pinched the nipples in the center.
The gesture had a blistering effect. Sensation shot from the pointed tips to her extremities with such riotous force that she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning.
“Don’t forget to meet with me tomorrow,” he said.
“What? When?” She was completely flustered and couldn’t decipher what he meant.
“You and me. Ten, four, and eight o’clock. Wear a pretty dress to supper.”
“I don’t have a pretty dress.”
“Find one.”
He stole a last kiss.
“You’re to call me Tristan when we’re alone.”
He slid to the floor and walked out, without pausing to see if anyone was in the hall. He was gone so swiftly that it was almost as if he hadn’t been there at all.
Frozen in her spot, she listened to his fading footsteps. Silence descended, the house settling, as if people were finally back in their own beds where they belonged.
As she exhaled a tortured breath, she wondered what would happen next. In a few short hours, she’d be with him in his library. How was she to act?
She hadn’t a clue.
Chapter 7
“CATCH me if you can!”
Jane kicked her horse into a gallop, laughing as she left Michael choking on her dust. She bent low over the animal’s neck, whooping with delight as she careened off the lane that led through the park and hurtled down a narrow path in the woods.
She felt as if a fairy godmother had waved her magic wand and fixed everything that was wrong.
They were living in the grandest house in the city, at the heart of the social whirl of parties and balls. She was treated as a welcomed guest with no chores or responsibilities. Clothes had been delivered, a few gowns with all the trimmings, so she could dress the part of the young lady she’d always been.
She had her own boudoir, plenty of food to eat, clean sheets on the bed, coal for the fire, and maids to assist her. No one cared that her father was Harry Hamilton. No one cared about the duel or the angry duke who’d shot him. Suddenly, it was as if none of it had ever happened.
Best of all, Michael Seymour invited her to go riding every afternoon.
Of course, the ride was arranged by Miriam, who was pathetically blatant in her hopes of getting Michael off by himself, but Michael was adept at foiling her plan by having Jane accompany them.
With each passing day, he spent more time with her. She could hardly turn around without bumping into him. His lazy smile mesmerized her, rattling her with wicked possibilities.
Could life be any more strange? More wonderful?
The sun was up. The sky was blue. The temperature mild. Michael was cantering after her.
She was so very, very glad to be alive!
Her mount thundered up to the lake’s edge, and she reined in as Michael rushed up behind.
His color was high, his glorious blond hair tousled, his eyes glimmering with merriment. He looked dashing and sophisticated, and on seeing him, her breath hitched in her lungs.
He was quite smitten, and there was no mistaking his burgeoning affection. As opposed to Helen, Jane loved to flirt and flatter, so she knew when a fellow was interested and when he wasn’t. Michael was extremely interested.
She glanced over at him and tossed her head, her auburn tresses swishing down her back. Her new riding habit fit perfectly, outlining her trim figure, the feather in the cap making her appear fetching and carefree.
Michael liked beautiful girls, liked bold ones, and she could be bold as brass.
Poor Miriam—with her timid manner and plain features—didn’t stand a chance.
“I didn’t think you’d ever arrive,” she teased. “Can’t that old nag go any faster?”
“You brazen hussy.” He chuckled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s unladylike to ride as you do?”
“They told me all the time, but I didn’t listen.”
“When we race, you can’t keep beating me. Bandit and I are males. Our self-esteem can’t survive the drubbing.”
He trotted up till he was right next to her, and he whipped Bandit around so that they were facing each other, the horses’ sides pressed together, her foot and stirrup tangled with his.
He was very close, close enough to lean in and kiss her. He hadn’t yet, and she constantly sensed that he wanted to, but something was holding him back.
He peered about, noting what she had: They were hidden in the trees, safe from the curious scrutiny of passersby. What was to prevent them from doing whatever they wished? There was no one to see.
For a lengthy interval, he studied her, seeming torn over a weighty decision. She didn’t move, anxious to learn what he might dare.
“You’re so pretty,” he said. He settled his hands on her waist, and with a quick lift, he pulled her from her horse and onto his.
She fought for purchase, laughing and grabbing at his coat. As she stilled, he brushed the sweetest, softest kiss across her lips.
“You naughty boy,” she murmured.
“Aren’t I, though?”
“It’s about time you kissed me. I thought you’d never get around to it.”
“Have you been expecting me to?”
“You know I have, you cad. Why did you keep me waiting so long?”
“I hate to rush my pleasures.”
“Ah, a fellow after my own heart.”
He kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth, as he held her tight. She hugged him back, her arms winding over his shoulders, so that she could run her fingers through his luxurious hair.
When he deepened the kiss, she drew him nearer, eager to feel his hands roaming over her body, to feel him caressing her breast.
It was the most spectacular moment of her life, and she whispered a fervent prayer, begging the Good Lord to make Michael realize what an ideal bride she would be.
And why shouldn’t he realize it? Although she was beneath him in ancestry, they were a perfect match. They enjoyed the same activities, had the same opinions, and possessed the same wry sense of humor. Why, they even had the same favorite color and favorite food.
Fleetingly, she worried that she should have protested his improper advance, but she couldn’t be coy. He could have whatever he wanted, and if she refused to give it to him, he could receive it from a dozen other girls, so she would do anything he asked.
She didn’t know how long they kissed. The embrace went on and on, growing more heated, more arousing when, from off in the distance, she heard someone calling his name.
“Michael! Where are you?”
With great effort, Michael yanked away. He’d been as absorbed as Jane, and he frowned, trying to figure out what was happening.
“Michael!” The voice came again, and they both recognized it at the same time.
“Miriam,” he muttered. “Damn it.”
“Gad, I’d forgotten all about her.”
“So had I.”
When they’d galloped off, they’d left her plodding along in the carriage. Usually when they barreled into the trees, they swiftly exited on the other side.
How long had she been waiting? What might she say about their protracted absence? What if word got back to Helen? She would have a fit! She’d never condone Jane’s fraternizing with Michael, and she would ruin any relationship.
“We’d better go.” Jane sighed.
“Yes, I suppose we should.”
He lifted her and seated her in her saddle, then, with the agility of a circus performer, leapt to the ground. To her surprise, he scooped up some dirt, rubbing it onto his trousers, coat sleeve, and cheek.
“Why are you doing that?”
“We’ll tell her I struck a tree branch and fell off, and that’s why we were delayed.”
“An equestrian of your ability? She’ll never believe it.”
“Yes, she will. She knows nothing of horses, and it would never occur to her to contradict me.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
He grinned, and she grinned, too, liking that they had a secret, that she was complicit with him—to his cousin’s detriment.
He climbed back in the saddle, and he turned his horse, ready to proceed out to the lane. He leaned over, his hands on her reins.
“I want to be alone with you,” he said, “when we have plenty of time to be together.”
“I’d like that.”
“Let me come to your room.”
“When?”
“Tonight, after everyone is asleep.”
Jane knew it was wrong and reckless, but knowledge didn’t necessarily convey wisdom.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” she replied without hesitation.
THEY disappeared for an eternity, Mother.”
“What is your definition of eternity? Five minutes? Ten?”
“A half hour, perhaps longer.”
Maud glared at Miriam. “You let them vanish for half an hour?”
“How could I stop them? It’s not as if I could forbid Michael from going off with her.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“They do it every day. Michael invites her to come with us, then when we get to the park, he forgets that I exist.”
Miriam had tears in her eyes, and if Maud had had any maternal instincts, she might have hugged Miriam and told her all would be well, but she wasn’t overly affectionate, and she wouldn’t encourage Miriam with falsehoods.
Jane Hamilton was pretty, confident, and bright—the sort that would attract any gentleman’s attention. She possessed every positive trait that Miriam lacked, and there was something sly about her that Maud didn’t like or trust.
Jane was clever and dangerous. She assessed the house and furnishings in a covetous fashion, as if scheming over how she could arrange her affairs so she never had to leave.
“Did Michael say where they’d been?” Maud asked.
“He claimed he’d had an accident in the woods, that he’d fallen off his horse, which delayed their return.”
“You believed him?”
“Yes. Shouldn’t I have? Why would he lie to me?”
Maud couldn’t understand how she’d birthed such a silly child.
When it came to her daughter, she was no fool, and she wasn’t blind. Jane was extraordinary, while Miriam was absolutely ordinary, so what chance did Miriam have against such stellar competition?
If Miriam was to maintain her place in relation to Michael, Maud had to get rid of the Hamiltons, but the captain was irrationally enamored of them. How could Maud persuade him to send them away? And until she could devise a valid argument to sway him, how was she to counter their overrunning of the household?
“There’s no alternative, Miriam. We have to take drastic measures. You’ll have to begin riding lessons again.”
“Oh, Mother, no! You know I can’t abide horses. They’re so big and so ... tall.”
“Do you want to marry Michael or don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must get over these absurd fears. They’re unseemly.”
“I’m not brave.”
“You don’t have to be brave. You just have to be smart.” Maud started out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Miriam’s voice was an irritating whine.
“I need to talk to Captain Odell. He must curb Michael’s behavior.”
“Can the captain make him ignore Miss Hamilton?”
“No. Only you can do that.”
“But ... how?”
“If you have to ask, Miriam, there’s no hope of you
r ever being a countess.”
“CAPTAIN, may I speak with you?”
“Sorry, Maud, but I have a four o’clock appointment.”
Tristan forced a smile and tried to walk on to the library, but she was blocking his way. Short of picking her up and setting her aside, he couldn’t avoid a conversation.
“We must review our travel plans,” she nagged.
“I don’t see why. We’ll simply climb in our carriages and go.”
They were scheduled to make a trip to the Seymour family seat, and it would be Michael’s first visit since assuming the title. Every year, the villagers threw a party to kick off the harvest. But with Michael being the new earl, the festival would hold additional meaning for all.
“Obviously, Captain”—Maud chuckled as if Tristan was very naive—“you have no idea of the effort it takes to move us to the country.”
“Yes, I do. I just don’t care to fret over it. The servants are very proficient, and they know what is required to prepare. I’m sure we’ll manage.”
He continued on, but before he could escape, she clasped his arm so that, suddenly, he was strolling with her.
“There is one other matter we must discuss,” she insisted.
“What is it?”
“It’s rather private. May we step into a parlor?”
“I really don’t have time, Maud.”
“Well, it can’t wait, so we’ll have to hash it out in the hall where anyone can overhear.” She halted and pulled him around to face her. “It’s about Michael.”
“Isn’t it always?”
Maud constantly sniped about Michael. She seemed to not like him or Rose very much, and Tristan couldn’t figure out why she’d stayed on for so long, when she found the two children so untenable. He recognized that she’d been tempted by the money and the lofty position that came with supervising them. Unfortunately, Rose and Michael had suffered from her lack of interest.
Michael had become an uncontrollable roué, and Rose had grown quiet and forlorn. At times, Tristan could barely keep from shaking Maud and demanding an explanation for her indifference.
“There was a bit of a ... situation ... today,” she said.
