Seduced

by Kate Allure

  “I would never think of sullying you with anything wild or sordid. I respect you utterly and promise I will always treat you with nothing but the level of decorum befitting a baroness.”

  He took the ring from her and, taking her left hand, slid it onto her fourth finger. “My baroness.”

  She stared down at her hand. The enormous emerald practically glowed, as if lit from within.

  She should be thrilled.

  She’d never particularly sought the title, but she did crave a deeper relationship with him and a life filled with love and family. And he had just offered her that…hadn’t he?

  “It’s beautiful. I’m overwhelmed.” At least that was an honest statement.

  But he misunderstood, interpreting it through his lens. “Of course you are, but I will help you every step of the way. As I said already, you have earned your place in society and should feel proud of everything you have accomplished. All I offer is a little finishing veneer. And do not worry about Bridlington Castle. My staff will continue to run it and the hotel with flawless efficiency. I want you to retain your important position as a high court judge. And, together, we will become a true power couple here in London.”

  He sounded downright excited now.

  While his narcissism had been a source of some frustration in the past, it now served her needs, giving her breathing space to figure things out. But she couldn’t wear the ring in public, or the brooch, either, not until she was sure about marrying him, knowing it would mark her as his…fiancée.

  That term sounded better than the first thing that had come to her mind—his property.

  “I’m afraid it’s a little too big,” she said, removing it. “I’d live in constant fear of it falling off and losing your priceless family heirloom.” She placed it back in the little box, closing the lid.

  He returned it to his pocket.

  “We will get it sized to fit you. And you are quite right not to wear it now. We will want to time the announcement for maximum effect, don’t you agree?”

  “Sure,” she mumbled.

  A little bit of a narcissist…was that what she’d thought?

  Dazed, she stared at him, trying to tamp down her growing fears. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the loo.” She needed a moment to herself.

  He nodded, and she rose to hurry away from the table and her quandary. She had a lot of thinking to do, and quickly, before he got the ring resized. How long could she hold him off while she worked through the merits of becoming a baroness in a companionable marriage? They did have okay sex, and that was better than nothing.

  She walked into the loo, a frown turning her lips down and making her brow crease.

  Once in the stall, she…stalled. How could she possibly make a decision?

  She needed to weigh everything, because whatever she decided would forever alter her life.

  She washed her hands until they were super clean. She combed her hair slowly. She applied lipstick carefully. She powdered her nose and combed her hair again.

  But maybe there was really only once choice to make. At her age, only a stupid woman would be so ridiculously picky. He cared for her, and what exactly did she think she was missing, anyway? If she ended their relationship, she’d be alone again, which, at forty-three, might easily turn into a life sentence.

  She couldn’t decline Rupert’s proposal without first trying to spark things up.

  Now was as good a time as any.

  Actually, it was the perfect time.

  She returned to the stall and quickly slipped off her scarlet thong. With it squeezed inside her hand, she hurriedly left the loo before she changed her mind. She’d never done anything remotely this provocative before.

  The restaurant’s cool air fluttered her skirt and caressed her skin in an area that had never before gone bare. It brought a silly smile to her face and turned her walk into a saunter.

  This was fun! Why hadn’t she done something like this a long time ago?

  Feeling newly confident and sexy, she arched her back slightly to accentuate her large breasts. The appreciative looks of men as she walked by were like bubbles in her champagne—making her lighter and boosting her with sparkling effervescence.

  Approaching her almost-fiancé from behind, she leaned down and dropped her “gift” lightly onto his lap.

  “Rupert,” she murmured into his ear. “I think we should do something special to celebrate, don’t you?”

  Nearly bouncing with excitement, she strutted by him and lowered herself to perch seductively on her chair, affecting a smile she hoped looked siren-like.

  Disbelief in his eyes, he looked from his lap to her. He quickly shoved the red lace into his pants pocket. “Victoria? What are you doing? I mean, I like the idea, of course, but we are in a public place.” He glanced around.

  “I know, but no one saw.” Her smile lost its effervescence, like champagne gone flat, and she drooped in her chair. “I just thought—”

  “Dearest, it is sweet…and”—he leaned forward and lowered his voice—“charming that you want to play naughty games to please me, but you do not need to. I think you are perfect just as you are. We are perfect.”

  He hesitated, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “I think, perhaps, in your excitement you might have overlooked the possibility that you could expose yourself to gossip that would ruin your reputation. As my future baroness, it would sully mine, as well. Not to mention your position on the high court.”

  “No one saw anything,” she softly repeated. “I thought we might try something new tonight…to celebrate.”

  “Like what, exactly?”

  “I don’t know, maybe sex in the limo or something like that.”

  “What? With Rinaldo a few feet away?” Rupert looked genuinely appalled, and this time he frowned outright. “It might help you to understand that I chose you for my baroness because of your impeccable reputation…and, of course, because I care about you deeply. You are a true lady, elegant and upright, and I respect you completely. Certainly you can see that what you are suggesting is tawdry and low-class.” His clipped tone, frosty and formal, made it clear he expected her agreement.

  She nodded, and glanced away, finding it awkward to try to argue that she’d be okay with a little less admiration and a little more trashy treatment.

  Her shoulders sagged. What was I thinking?

  Although Rupert possessed many good qualities, from kindness to generosity, he remained overly concerned with propriety. He would always resist her attempts to make their sex life more spontaneous and playful. She’d deluded herself into thinking she could change him.

  She looked at the ice bucket, needing a drink. The champagne bottle was empty, as was her pleasure in the evening. A dull pain started throbbing behind her eyes.

  Would he even be disappointed if she discouraged him from coming to her place tonight? Although not the most exciting sex in the world, he seemed to enjoy consummating their relationship regularly.

  She waited until he’d finished paying the bill. “I hope you won’t mind terribly. I know it’s been a couple weeks since we’ve been together…” She cleared her throat. “But I have the beginnings of a headache. Long day at work.”

  She watched him for signs of annoyance or regret.

  “Of course, dearest. This was a big night for you. I will take you home, and do not give it another thought.”

  She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed, but clearly he wasn’t burning with lust for her. Or, possibly, he was being the true gentleman she knew him to be.

  “Thank you. And thank you for the beautiful brooch…and for the unexpected but deeply meaningful proposal.” With effort, she held back a sigh.

  Suddenly, Ian King’s very different proposition flooded her mind and sparked her body.

  You will know how much I desire you. You’ll see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice, and you will feel it…deep inside.

  She gasped as fierce lust swamp
ed her. One thing was certain—before she could accept her baron’s offer of marriage, she would have to excise all desire for the young barrister.

  Her fake headache turned real.

  “Are you all right? Let me get you home. I think the excitement of the night might be adding to your headache.”

  On the ride over to Canary Wharf, he held her hand and offered to escort her up to her flat. Noting her quietness, he repeatedly expressed concern for her well-being.

  As the limousine pulled up to her building, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “You should go right to bed. I would not want my future baroness to get sick.”

  “I will.” It sounded flat, dispirited. With forced sparkle, she added, “Thank you again for a lovely evening and for…everything.”

  He smiled indulgently and patted her hand.

  He tapped on the tinted window, and Rinaldo opened the curbside door.

  Her building’s trusty doorman, Johnny, stood next to him. Tipping his hat, he said, “Good evening, Lord Bridlington. Lovely night, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is, Johnny. Please escort Dame Victoria up to her flat. She’s feeling a little tired his evening.”

  “Of course, Lord Bridlington.” Johnny tipped his hat again and held out his elbow. Her doorman was always Johnny-on-the-Spot for the baron, but then the baron was always enormously generous when it came to gratuities for servants and staff, even for hers.

  “Dame Victoria, is there anything I can get for you?” the doorman asked as he escorted her into the elevator.

  She laughed. “Johnny, how many times do I need to tell you, please call me Tori.”

  “Well, I know, but Lord B. prefers that I honor you appropriately with your title.”

  She gave him a warning frown, although her eyes twinkled.

  Johnny stifled a grin. “But for you, I’ll call you by whatever name you want.”

  She laughed outright. “You left that wide-open, Johnny. Hmm, I’ll have to think of something totally inappropriate.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it.” He patted her hand. “I’m sure you know how much I respect Dame Victoria, The Honorable Ms. Justice Whittingstall of Her Majesty’s High—

  “Okay, okay. You win.” She stepped out of the lift.

  “Good evening to you,” he said winking and tipping his hat as the elevator door slid shut.

  She chuckled as she unlocked the door, deciding to put off thinking about Rupert’s marriage offer.

  “I can figure it all out tomorrow when my head’s clear,” she said aloud to the empty flat.

  She climbed into bed—alone once again. But ignoring Rupert’s fine, upstanding proposal proved much easier than forgetting Ian’s wicked one. His words continued to haunt her, making her nipples ache and her sex clench at nothing.

  “I’ll put a stop to it one way or another.”

  She repeated that over and over, both aloud and in her head, until, finally, she fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The following Tuesday, as sunset approached, Tori rode the Tube from Chancery Lane to Canary Wharf station, fuming all the way.

  Ian King had been in her court again today, but this time he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman. It seemed he’d finally got the message that she wasn’t interested. That was a good thing, she told herself, because she was engaged now. Sort of.

  She fumed on the short walk to her high-rise building in the posh Canary Wharf district. She waved to her always-friendly doorman.

  “Good evening, Ms. Justice Whittingstall.”

  “Johnny, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Tori?”

  “I know. I know,” he replied, grinning at their ongoing joke. “But management says—”

  She laughed and waved again before boarding the elevator to the thirty-first floor.

  As she always did upon arriving home, she paused just inside the doorway of her two-bedroom flat, pride and elation filling her. She stood in her tiled foyer gazing at the expansive view of the Thames River through giant windows. This place, her castle in the sky, belonged to her alone, the culmination of her dreams, made possible through her hard work.

  However, tonight the solitude of her stronghold didn’t carry the same satisfaction. Everything she’d strived for was hers now, or nearly so. Her last dream—the chance for lifelong companionship with someone who loved her—only awaited her acceptance.

  So why did she feel so empty?

  She opened her best bottle of wine, a ’08 Château Ducru Beaucaillou she’d been saving for a special occasion that never seemed to arrive. Tempted to do the unthinkable and swig it directly from the bottle, she raised it to her lips.

  Instead, lowering the bottle, she poured herself a proper glassful and walked to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows, toasting herself with rueful humor.

  “To me. Forty-three and still waiting for my inner sex goddess to come out and play.”

  Downing the wine swiftly, she welcomed its dulling effects.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” she scoffed. If there was really more to sex than mild satisfaction, wouldn’t she have experienced it by now? She hadn’t had all that many lovers in her life, but neither had she been a nun. Those amazing, earth-moving orgasms everyone talked about were a myth. Or, more likely, she was incapable of free-spirited sexuality.

  Hell’s bells! She couldn’t even bring herself to drink her own wine improperly.

  Turning away from the view, she went to the kitchen. Diana would arrive soon for their twice-monthly dine-in and chat fest. They were always on Tuesdays when Rupert played squash at his health club. Tonight, she badly needed a distraction. Luckily, her friend arrived early, because Tori’d already swigged half the bottle and had barely started making dinner.

  Lady Diana Stanhope came by her title through her aristocratic bloodlines and again through marriage. A member of a very old family, she’d enjoyed every advantage growing up and had married an equal at her parents’ behest. Later, when her philandering husband’s public escapades became too painful to bear, she had parted ways with both her spouse and her staid upbringing. Still fabulously wealthy, public service through high-level charity work was now her only career. She lived the independent life of a rich, titled socialite and enjoyed every minute of it.

  While Diana threw together a simple meal, Tori sat at the table and spilled the details of her courtroom battle with the arrogant Ian King, but she kept Rupert’s proposal a secret, not wanting Diana’s negative views of him to weigh in her decision.

  “Dahling, I think this King fellow would be just the thing to help you finally put men like James and Rupert behind you. Try someone young and hot, and you’ll finally pop like a helium balloon.”

  “First, I’m still with Rupert. And second, King just wants a quick bonk.”

  “Dahling, a quick fuck—or two or three—would do you good.”

  “That’s crazy. This is me, remember? I can’t date someone that young, and a barrister to boot. Further, I’d have to disclose our relationship to the Royal Courts. And if word got out publicly, it would hurt my reputation. Call into question my judgment.”

  “Nonsense. What you do in your private life should be…private.”

  “Nothing ever stays private.”

  “That’s not true, and I’m living proof. Do you remember how I dated a different gentleman every night of the week once I got my freedom?”

  “Yes, the papers were full of your exploits. You went through a string of handsome young guys, but I felt bad for you—all the awful publicity and people calling you a cougar.”

  Truthfully, at times, Tori had envied her friend’s sense of freedom from stultifying social restrictions. But Diana hadn’t had to earn her position. Tori couldn’t flip off society and get away with it like she did.

  “Don’t feel awful on my account.” Diana laughed delightedly. “I love sex and lots of it. I enjoyed every minute with those beaux, both in public and in priva
te. Younger men have enough stamina to keep up with me. Well, almost.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “Have you noticed lately my constant presence on the society pages has dropped off?”

  “Yes, but you haven’t mentioned anyone special. I assumed—I don’t know, that you’d grown tired of all the sex.”

  “Never!” Her friend smiled at her conspiratorially. “And no, no one special. What I have instead is a delicious new avenue for fulfilling my appetites. I think it’s time I share my marvelous secret with you, because clearly you need to vent some of your pent-up appetite for the delicious Mr. King. Especially since you seem determined not to let him into your knickers.”

  “You keep forgetting, on purpose, no doubt, that I already have a guy.”

  “Rupert! Not him. He wouldn’t know what to do with you if you were gift wrapped and came with written instructions.” Diana leaned forward excitedly and, in a faux whisper, murmured, “What you need, my friend, is a night at Club Exotica.” Giving her a saucy wink, she added, “Its very purpose is to fulfill a woman’s wildest fantasies, and it truly gratifies, I promise you that.”

  “Club what? I’ve never heard of it.” Tori stared at her friend in confusion.

  “Club Exotica. And you’ve never heard of it because it’s utterly private. It’s been around for years and no one has ever heard of it. So you see, some things can remain secret. I’ve had a membership for six months, and it’s worth every penny. It’s my naughty little secret.”

  “What is it, exactly? A new bar in town?”

  “Yes, and so much more. But please—” Diana broke off, suddenly anxious. “Please promise you won’t be disappointed in me?”

  “What are you talking about? I could never be, but your hesitation is making me concerned. If it’s something illegal, don’t tell me. I’d be obligated to—”

  “No, dahling. It’s not illegal. But I’m worried you might think less of me, because, well, it’s pretty out there. I mean like really out—”

  “Diana! I won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing you could say that would hurt our friendship. Nothing.”