Wicked Seduction

by Jade Lee

  Then pain clamped onto the back of his neck, squeezing such that his shoulders tensed in agony. He struggled to hold on. He had worked through pain much worse than this. But the grip at the back of his neck was relentless and amazingly strong.

  “Release my wife, Kit.” Brandon’s voice was implacable.

  The beast in him snarled, his lips curling and his hands tightening. But he wasn’t at full strength, not with his cousin’s fingers boring deep into his neck. Meanwhile, Scheherazade stepped from his arms to confront her husband.

  “Brandon, let him go!” the woman gasped. “It was just a kiss hello.”

  “Scher—”

  Kit took that moment to spin around, easily dislodging Brandon’s grip. He might have attacked then, simply out of habit. But his cousin was still holding his daughter, and Kit would do nothing to endanger the child.

  “Did you notice that it has become a beautiful day?” came another voice. His angel. Maddy. “I vow it never feels this lovely in the city. Do you think, Lady Blackstone, that we could have tea outside? Is there a table or something set up in back?”

  “There is indeed,” Scher returned as she smiled warmly at Maddy. “You must be the intrepid Miss Wilson.”

  “And I am her cousin, Lady Rose. We were having a lovely conversation on the drive here. All about how I intend to become a fashion leader. You wouldn’t know much about that out here in the country, but I vow I will become the most important heiress in all of England.”

  “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Rose,” Scher returned smoothly. “Please, let us all step inside for a moment while I have Cook set up tea on the lawn.”

  Scher turned and led the way inside. Lady Rose scampered up behind, babbling all the way about a new idea she had to dress Maddy differently so as to draw attention to her flaws. Maddy followed more slowly, her eyes dark and troubled as she looked from Kit to Brandon.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Lord Blackstone.”

  “An honor, Miss Wilson,” Brandon returned, bowing formally to her.

  She smiled, then looked at Kit. It was clear she wanted to say something. Perhaps an on-dit that might cut the tension that continued to mount between him and his cousin. But what could she say?

  “You are snarling, Kit,” Maddy said softly. “Do you hate my gown so much?”

  She was teasing him. She knew his expression was for his cousin, but it had the desired effect. He consciously reined in his feral impulses and turned his sneer on the paneled, ribboned, and flounced monstrosity that she wore. “It is an affront to the senses,” he drawled. “I do believe it even sounds ugly.”

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Brandon’s eyes widen in shock. One did not speak to a lady as such, even if it was about a hideous gown. But as he knew would happen, Maddy smiled in response, obviously relaxing into the teasing banter.

  “Truly? Does this sound ugly?” She purposely rustled her skirt. “I used to think it was wonderful.”

  He shuddered in mock horror, the tension flowing from his shoulders as he forced the movement. “Silks, Miss Wilson, those sound lovely. What you are wearing must have been made from barn hay.”

  “Oh, how cruel you are to Rose, sir!” she cried in mock horror as she took his arm and began gently leading him up the steps. His side prickled as he passed Brandon’s hard stare, but he didn’t swing his fist into the man’s eyes. It would alarm Maddy too much. Then they were inside the front foyer and he was able to whisper to her.

  “Thank you for suggesting we sit outside. I find it easier to breathe in open spaces.”

  “I know,” she said.

  He started. How could she know that he had spent years trapped belowdecks? That any home—even so open and airy a place as Scher’s house—still reminded him of wood soaked in blood and sweat and echoing with the sobs of grown men? Above deck—in the sun—was safer than below. Above deck, the wind smelled better and carried fewer diseases. Above deck was for the masters while below was for the slaves.

  “Inside is not so bad so long as I can hear your voice,” he said truthfully.

  “But your forehead is not so pinched with a bright sky above you.” She tugged him forward as they followed Scher and Rose through the house. “Come, let us see if that beleaguered nurse has caught the little boy.”

  He went easily as he always would around Maddy. He was aware of Brandon, of course, still holding his daughter while his eyes bored into Kit’s back. And he watched Scheherazade bobbing her head while Lady Rose chattered about fashion. He saw her pause and give an order to a maid. And he saw her maneuver gracefully around an upturned chair, a discarded child’s blanket, and a small army of wooden soldiers set on attacking a large China doll.

  “Kit,” Maddy called softly as she squeezed his arm. “What are you thinking?”

  That Scheherazade was beautiful pregnant. And that Maddy would be as well. Maddy had that same thinness that had dogged Scher. But given her size, Maddy’s bones appeared more pronounced, more carved than Scher’s ever could. With a little more weight and the right clothes, Maddy could be a rare kind of beauty. Not a rosy-cheeked doll like her cousin Rose, but statuesque in the classical style. Like a Roman goddess come to life.

  “Kit?”

  “One day,” he said softly, “you will be round with a child, and your husband will think himself the luckiest man alive.”

  Maddy’s eyebrows rose sharply in surprise, but pleasure lightened her features and touched her cheeks with color. “You are acting very strange, Mr. Frazier. I do not know what to think of it.”

  “Do not think, sweet angel. Just keep talking to me.” It would keep him sane. And likely prevent him from killing his cousin.

  “I shall make a bargain with you, sir,” she said softly as they began to maneuver though the toy soldier battlefield. “I shall endeavor to keep talking, if you swear to never again try to kiss another man’s wife.”

  He paused, his foot suspended in air as he looked at her face. She was serious. Gravely serious and frightened for him as well. Then he slowly set his booted heel down on the floor.

  “I had not intended to. She just looked like I have always wanted for her. Plump and happy, children at her feet.” He shook his head, confusion once again tightening his throat. “I cannot . . . I do not . . .” He looked into her eyes, trying to blot out the memories—the fantasies—that whirled through his mind. “This doesn’t feel real to me, angel. None of it.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Talk to me. Let me hear your beautiful voice.”

  “Well, of course, Mr. Frazier,” she said with a too bright smile. “I believe I can summon up some nonsense.” Then she began to chatter. About what, he hadn’t a clue. He listened instead to her open vowels and the steady, lilting cadence of a gently bred English woman. It was Maddy, his angel with the beautiful voice and the worried eyes. She feared for him, he knew. She should, for he was perilously close to insanity. And yet with her arm tucked securely in his and her voice flowing through his ears, he believed he could remain civil. He could talk with Scheherazade, even exchange pleasantries with Brandon, and not descend into madness. With her beside him, he could do it.

  And then he walked through the back doorway and realized he was very, very wrong.

  Maddy saw the feral hunger enter his eyes and threw herself completely into spouting nonsense. She talked about gardening, of all things, about which she knew much more than any gently bred woman should. Her father, she told him, had valued the medicinal properties of many herbs and had sent her often to learn from the village witch. She was not really a witch, of course, just an herbalist who was lonely for a child of her own. If things had gone differently, perhaps her father and Miss Ruseman might have formed a deeper friendship. Perhaps. But then he had grown ill and her entire life had changed as a result.

  “That must have been very hard,” said Lady Blackstone. “I lost my mother as well and felt very lonely without her.”

  Maddy smiled wanly at Lady Blackstone. Madd
y had been speaking to Kit as a way to keep him calm and make the dark violence fade from his eyes. It had started to work. She had felt the muscles of his arm relax. But then the woman had spoken—his fiancée and the woman he obviously still wanted—and his entire body had coiled tight again.

  Was there ever a more impossible situation? She had thought it would be good for Kit to see his former fiancée at her home with her husband and children around. What better way to show him that Lady Blackstone had moved on? She was beyond his reach now. Instead, he had boldly accosted her the moment he’d seen her. He’d tried to kiss her!

  Maddy struggled to find some sort of polite banter to fill the silence. Rose was unaccountably silent, her expressive eyes hopping from one person to the next. Did the girl understand the undercurrents in the room? Probably. Rose was a great deal more intelligent than most people thought. Thankfully, the nurse chose that moment to appear, dragging a sulking little boy behind her. She wasn’t rough, by any means, but Maddy recognized the look of a woman who had reached her limit.

  “Ah, so you have found the tart thief!” Maddy cried much too loudly.

  Lady Blackstone swiveled in her son’s direction. “And what a dirty mess you have made of yourself,” she said sternly. “Just when I wanted to introduce you to someone special.”

  “Dragged me down to the creek and back, ’e did,” said the nurse. “But I knew ’e’d get tired eventually, didn’t I, boy? And next time, you’ll be wise to listen to me and your mum, won’t yeh?”

  The boy had a fierce scowl for his nurse, and his mother abruptly burst out laughing. “My God, Christopher, you look exactly like your father when you do that.”

  “He does not!” cried Lord Blackstone in mock horror. “I would never appear so dirty before beautiful ladies. And I certainly always listened to my mother.”

  Lady Blackstone arched a brow at her husband. “I believe your mother also taught you to never lie,” she said sternly. Then she waved to her son. “Come here, sweetheart, I want you to meet the man you were named after.”

  The party was loosely gathered around the terrace, with Maddy and Kit gracing a bench brought up from the grounds. It was no longer proper for Maddy to hold on to Kit’s sleeve, but she was close enough to feel his leg clench and hear the sharp intake of his breath. His gaze slid hungrily to the little boy in muddy clothing and with dirt across his cheek. The child was still held in the iron grip of his nanny, but he was able to study Kit, his steady regard making him appear quite advanced for his years.

  “Goodness, you are really quite filthy,” despaired his mother as she pulled him away from his nurse. Rose wrinkled her nose as well and twitched her skirt away from the boy. But Maddy was charmed. It had been a long time since she had been able to talk with a child, especially one this young. Children, as a rule, were banned from polite society.

  “Just tell your mama that getting dirty is what little boys do,” she said sweetly. “And also”—she added as the tea tray finally arrived—“it is hungry work.” Maddy picked up a sweet biscuit from the tray and raised her eyebrows at Lady Blackstone. “May I give it to him?”

  The child’s eyes immediately went to the cookie, and at his mother’s nod, Maddy was able to pass it to him.

  “I am only allowing it,” said his mother sternly, “because I want you to be especially gracious to Mr. Frazier. Mr. Christopher Frazier.”

  And finally Kit found his voice, though his words came out in a thick rasp. “Call me Kit,” he said. “U-Uncle Kit.”

  The boy didn’t say a word, of course. He was busy chewing on his sweet.

  “He does look a great deal like his father,” said Maddy as a way to fill the silence.

  “Yes. And he has his father’s temper—”

  “You named him after me?” interrupted Kit. “In my . . . memory?”

  Lady Blackstone nodded. “It was Brandon’s idea, but I liked it the moment he said it. A daughter would have been Christine.”

  Maddy watched as Kit’s gaze jumped to Brandon, who confirmed everything with a nod. But then something happened as he gazed to the boy. A kind of trembling fit began to shake his body. It was small at first, a suspension of breath that only Maddy noticed. But then his hands began to shake where they were fisted by his sides. She tried to help him. She touched his arm, but by then the fit was shuddering through more of him. She could see his thighs twitching and knew he had ceased to breathe.

  “Kit,” she said, desperate to allay the coming disaster. “It’s such a lovely day. Perhaps we should go for a walk.” But it was too late. His entire body was shuddering.

  Lady Blackstone stood up and quickly gathered her son into her arms. Lord Blackstone abruptly passed the girl to the nanny as he slid in front of wife, obviously protecting her.

  “Rose!” snapped Maddy. “Take the boy inside to the nursery.”

  “What!” gasped Rose, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the dirty boy.

  “Do it!” Maddy hissed, and she shoved her cousin forward. Lady Blackstone had already moved toward the doorway with her son, pushing the nanny ahead of her. Rose stumbled behind as Maddy took hold of Kit’s forearm. Even through the covering of fabric, she could tell his muscles were locked tighter than iron. And his gaze had yet to leave the boy.

  “Lady Blackstone, please!” Maddy cried. “Please don’t leave. He needs to have it out now.”

  Her hostess paused, her gaze steady on Kit, whose trembles appeared to have peaked.

  “Please,” Maddy repeated. “Please don’t abandon him now.”

  She knew the moment the woman decided what to do. With an abrupt nod of her head, she shoved her son into Rose’s outstretched arms. The child cried out, squirming to get back to his mother, and Rose was no better as she tried to hold his tiny body away from her dress. It was Lord Brandon who came to the rescue. In one quick move, he pulled his son out of Rose’s arms and set him on the ground.

  “Christopher! Go to the nursery. Now!”

  The boy was about to protest, but one look at his father’s face and he spun on his heel and ran.

  “Lady Rose, if you would do me the greatest favor and make sure he gets upstairs safely. Last door to the right.” The words were spoken politely, but there was no mistaking the commanding tone in his voice. Rose nodded meekly and followed the child. Which left Maddy with Lord and Lady Blackstone all looking at Kit. Until finally, blessedly, his fit passed.

  Chapter 15

  Kit found his footing, but his world was teetering out of control. His vision wasn’t even clear as the lawn seemed to bob and weave before him. He was sinking in an ocean of emotions as wave after wave of fury swamped his consciousness. Never before had he come face-to-face with all he’d lost.

  “Kit!” It was Maddy’s voice, a single high note of worry, but it did little to beat back the tide.

  He thought he’d dealt with everything that had happened. He thought he’d come to accept his lot in life, but now he saw so clearly what had been stolen from him. It wasn’t that he wanted Scheherazade. As a woman, she was little more than a fond memory for him. But her life, her children, her obvious joy in all that surrounded her—that is what he’d lost the day his bastard cousin had thrown him onto a boat.

  “That boy,” he rasped as he stumbled in the direction of the back house door. “He should have been mine. This life!” He spun wildly, trying to indicate the house, the grounds, the joy he saw in every line of Scher’s pregnant body. “This life was mine!”

  A dark figure steadied him, a masculine hand that restrained as much as supported. Brandon, of course, one of the two cousins who had taken everything from him. First Michael declared him dead and shipped him off to Barbary pirates. Then Brandon stole his wife and child.

  “Leave me alone!” he screamed, shoving hard at his cousin’s form.

  Brandon rocked back on his heels, but he did not release his hold. “You have lost yourself, Kit,” he said.

  “Myself?” he said with a wild laugh. “I h
ave lost everything !” He straightened and twisted his arm, easily breaking Brandon’s grip. “Stolen!”

  “I stole nothing!” Brandon snarled, and inside Kit, the slave crowed. Finally a fight. Finally an outlet to the fury that seethed within him.

  Kit crouched before his cousin, his hands loose as he judged the best place to grab the taller man and drag him down to the ground. Once there, no one could best him. He saw Brandon read his intention. The man’s eyes widened in surprise, but that in no way slowed his reaction. By the time Kit had decided on his attack, Brandon had tightened his own hands into fists and was angling for a better position on the terrace.

  And then a large pregnant woman pushed her way between them. “Stop it! Both of you!” Then she unleashed her fury at Kit. “How could you think he stole me from you? We thought you dead!”

  “He’s not thinking,” came another voice—his angel’s—from the side. “Can’t you understand? He’s angry. He’s lost so much, he just wants someone to blame.”

  “Fine,” Brandon said as he gently set his wife aside. “Blame me. I courted her. I seduced her. And then I married her and built a life I never thought possible.”

  Kit landed his blows, one to Brandon’s soft belly and the second to his jaw. Slave howled with glee as his cousin dropped like a stone. Not unconscious, though. The man was more hardy than that, but Kit was ready.

  He leaped, but caught Maddy instead. She had stepped into the fray at the worst possible moment. He had just been bringing back his fist, intending to rain blows down upon Brandon, but she stepped into his swing. His fist missed her, but his arm wrapped around her neck. And the force of his movement twisted him onto her. His knees caught her stomach and his chest collided with her much softer one.