Triana's Spring Seduction

by Tabetha Waite

  He leaned his arm heavily against the marble mantel, ignoring the warm, inviting glow as he closed his eyes and let the glass dangle carelessly from his fingertips. As a spy for the Crown, he knew the perils of losing control, and never, in all his experience, had he been so foolish as he’d been tonight.

  Or so utterly ashamed of his behavior.

  While he doubted Triana had saw that he was meeting with his contact, something had happened to make her suspicious, for more than once he’d resisted the urge to pull at his cravat that evening. He could practically feel those blue, luminescent eyes upon his skin. He certainly hadn’t intended for tonight to turn out as it had, yet he still thanked God for the chance, for that kiss with Triana had been every bit as magnetic as he’d believed it would be.

  He raked a hand through his hair. He knew he’d lashed out and hurt her, which was the last thing he’d wanted to do, but he’d been angry at himself for letting her get too close — all for a taste of that delectable mouth. And while that was no excuse for his deplorable reaction, he had come to the firm conclusion that Triana was dangerous to this mission.

  And his sanity.

  Chapter Seven

  Brisk, light footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Triana hastily covered the latest edition of the Times with the embroidery she’d been pretending to work on for the past twenty minutes, right before Lady Trenton walked into the parlor. Instinctively steeling herself for the inevitable tongue lashing that would ensue, Triana folded her hands tightly together and laid them in her lap. Keeping her face impassive, for the less apprehension she gave away the better, she silently acknowledged her mother.

  To her everlasting astonishment, Amelia didn’t even blink as she announced in a matter of fact voice, “I’m going shopping with Lady Gracien this morning, and then I’ll be making a few social calls, so I shall be gone most of the day. If your brother deems it necessary to remove himself from his study long enough to ask after his mother’s welfare, inform him that I’ll be back by dinner.” Apparently feeling as if everything had been rightfully said, the older woman turned on her heel and quit the room as swiftly as she’d entered it.

  Triana stared after her mother’s retreating back in amazement, before slumping back in her chair. Obviously the countess had not seen the latest article, but God help her when she did. Triana knew that burning a hundred of these offending papers wouldn’t mollify her in the least this time. What she wouldn’t do to get her hands on that slanderous reporter! Was she truly such a fascinating subject for gossip that the scoundrel had to go so far as to follow her now? For considering this morning’s piece, surely there could be no other explanation…

  To our esteemed ladies and gentleman, I fear our ‘hound’ is at it again!

  It appears that this time, Lady Triana’s pursuit of the Duke of Chiltern came in the form of a hopeful, late night garden tryst at the Westerville’s ball. Fortunately, our ‘fox’ was able to outmaneuver this scheming miss (who, in our opinion, is really quite shameful in her obvious ensnarement attempts) and managed to escape unscathed. Truly, to save Lady Trenton and Lord Curdiff any further embarrassment, it has been suggested that a sojourn to the country will be most beneficial…

  The slight clearing of a throat intruded, so she stuffed the crinkled newspaper into the chair cushion and glanced up at the butler, acknowledging him with a forced smile. “Yes, Holmes?”

  He strolled into the room, and announced formally, “You have a caller, my lady.”

  He held out a silver salver with a single, calling card. She picked it up and barely refrained from groaning aloud when she read the printed name.

  Of all the people… She put a hand to her head. “Please convey my sympathies to Lord Eastbury and let him know I’m not up to receiving visitors this morning.”

  The servant didn’t even blink. “He was most insistent that he see you, my lady.”

  Triana conceded defeat. She knew that to blatantly refuse him would only infuriate her mother, so she sighed, “Very well. Send him in.” As an aside, she added, “Please inform the viscount that the earl is here. I’m sure he would like to join us.”

  “I’m afraid he just stepped out, my lady.” The servant calmly intoned. “Would you like me to ring for tea?”

  A sense of alarm began to crawl up Triana’s spine. “Yes, please,” she murmured. “And send for Genevieve, if you would.”

  Knowing that her ladies’ maid was her last hope for a proper chaperone from the earl’s groping hands, she was further aggrieved when the butler said, “I believe she is also out, my lady. The countess sent her on a special errand shortly after breakfast.”

  Of course she did. “I see. That will be all then.”

  Not five minutes after the butler departed, Eastbury walked into the room, proudly

  attired as a fop in his bright canary jacket and emerald green breeches. He took bold note of her form, his face splitting into a grin that nearly had him smacking his lips in undisguised anticipation. “You’re looking lovely today, Lady Triana.”

  “Thank you, my lord, but such flattery is truly unnecessary,” she replied evenly. “Won’t you have a seat?” As he settled himself on the settee with much aplomb, she returned to the chair she’d just vacated, ignoring the displeased frown on his face when she chose not to sit beside him.

  She clasped her hands tightly together, hoping that he wouldn’t remain long. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

  “My dear, Triana—” She had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep quiet at the familiarity. “I must confess to an ulterior motive for being here.”

  He was forced to pause as a starched maid rolled the teacart in. After she left, Triana poured herself a cup, then another for Eastbury, whereupon he requested four cubes of sugar and plenty of cream. He stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the sides of the delicate china. It made Triana’s nerves scream in frustration, until the earl finally continued speaking.

  “Surely you realize by now how much I ardently admire you. Not only do I speak for myself, but your dear mother has also kept open a certain amount of hope for us.”

  Triana barely refrained from rolling her eyes to that vast understatement.

  “In that light, I think perhaps it is time to consider a union—”

  Unable to contain her silence any longer, she held up a hand. “Please, my lord, I beg you do not continue. I know your feelings, so I must openly express mine. I have never attempted to encourage your affections—”

  “I realize you might need some time,” Eastbury continued as if she hadn’t even spoken. “Or even a bit of… persuasion if that’s what it takes.”

  She stared as he lifted a meaningful eyebrow. Dear God, was he actually suggesting that she allow him to compromise her? “My lord, again I must protest—”

  “His Grace, the Duke of Chiltern.”

  The harried butler barely had enough time to announce him and back out of the parlor, before Chiltern’s towering visage strode into the room.

  Triana’s traitorous heart instantly did a somersault in her chest. Even though she was still furious with him from the night before, Triana couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief that he had saved her from Eastbury yet again.

  He was dressed elegantly in a pair of shining Hessians, black breeches with a gray waistcoat and jacket, and a crisp, white linen shirt and cravat. He was as dashing as usual — except for one marked difference. His eyes had taken on the color of granite as he pinned the earl where he sat.

  “Your Grace. What a pleasant surprise.” Triana did her best to keep her voice even, as that gleaming gaze abruptly shifted to her. “Do, please come in.”

  He hesitated only a moment before he strode across the floor with every confidence. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Triana gave a slightly strained laugh. Had he somehow overheard part of their conversation? “Of course not.” She cleared her throat and asked lightly, “Would you care for some tea?”

  After he
shot another glare at Eastbury, who looked more than aggrieved by his presence, Chiltern nodded. “I would, thank you.” He walked over to stand by the fireplace, then leaned against the mantel and brought forth a cheroot. “May I?”

  At Triana’s nod, he lit a match. The curling smoke that he expelled instantly reminded her of the first night they’d met — and all the lurid fantasies she’d conjured up about him since.

  She quickly averted her gaze, should her telling blush give her thoughts away. But as she poured him a cup of the steaming tea, her mind was racing. What is he doing here? “Cream or sugar?”

  “Neither.”

  She carefully carried the delicate cup and saucer over to him. As he took it, she couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at his face. Not making it past his mouth, she instantly recalled how wonderful those glorious lips had felt upon her own, how they had caressed her skin — and the harsh words he’d spoken to her afterward.

  He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, for he let his bare hands brush hers, lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Thank you, my lady,” he said huskily.

  The air had become so charged, that not until Eastbury spoke did Triana recall that he was even in the room. “I wasn’t aware you were a frequent guest at Abernathy house, Your Grace.”

  The corners of the duke’s mouth lifted as he slowly exhaled a breath of smoke. “Perhaps not in the past, but that’s all about to change.”

  Her gaze instantly shot to his, where he watched her through the haze. It caused parts of her body to tingle deliciously.

  “Indeed.” Eastbury’s voice rose in haughty indignation. “And why is that?”

  Gabriel chuckled, although there was no humor in it. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern, Lord Eastbury.”

  The earl neatly puffed out his chest, before retorting caustically, “I think it is when it directly involves a lady of my particularly close acquaintance. I’m here on gentleman’s business—”

  “Ah, yes, ever the gracious gallant, aren’t you, Eastbury?” Gabriel cut in, his eyes sparking ominously, a challenging tilt to his face. “However, I imagine that one of the girls at Madame Rinard’s House of Ill Repute might contradict such a statement. As I understand it, Maria is still recovering after your last bout of—” He smiled chillingly. “—chivalry.”

  Triana nearly choked on her tea as the earl’s jowls flared in righteous indignation. He rose to his feet, fists clenched, and sputtered, “I ought to call you out for such lies!”

  “Just name your seconds,” Gabriel replied darkly. “Although I should warn you that I wouldn’t expect you to come back from any dueling field with breath in your miserable lungs.”

  Eastbury’s face had turned such a mottled shade of red, Triana wondered if he

  might have an apoplexy. In the end, he turned his back on the duke and addressed her. “I shall call upon you some other time, my dear, when we will not be so crudely disturbed.”

  After a stiff bow, he stormed out the door, his canary jacket flying out behind him like a pair of angry wings.

  Triana could have sworn she heard Chiltern mutter, “Don’t bet on it,” but in her shock she couldn’t be sure. However, the sound of the front door slamming was enough to shake her out of her stupor.

  What just happened?

  As the ramifications finally sank in, she jumped to her feet, placed her hands on her hips, and demanded hotly, “Would you mind telling me what that was all about?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” The duke threw the rest of his cheroot into the fire, a sudden look of consternation on his face.

  She gave an indelicate snort and waved toward the door. “You were deliberately antagonizing him!”

  His brow furrowed. “So what if I was?”

  She gave a sharp laugh of disbelief. “Are you trying to completely sabotage my reputation? Don’t you realize what you’ve done? My mother has it in her head that I’m going to marry him! Now, you’ve just made everything so much worse.”

  He was silent for a moment. Finally, with those unwavering, silver eyes searching her face, he asked quietly, “Do you want to marry him?”

  Triana barely kept from throwing something at his head in frustration. “Of course not, but that isn’t the point! You have no right to come in here and pretend as if you care what happens to me. I believe you made that perfectly clear last night. Now if you would please, just go—”

  “You think I don’t care?” He interrupted her tirade with a snarl, swiftly closing the distance between them. Before Triana could protest, he pulled her roughly into his arms and captured her mouth.

  She whimpered at the assault. She lifted her hands and put them on his solid chest, intending to push him away, but as his lips gentled and began to… taunt her, tease her, tantalize her… the warmth beneath her fingertips began to surround her and she slowly found herself relenting. She edged her hands upward and clutched at his jacket. In turn, Gabriel groaned and immediately deepened the embrace. He coaxed her lips to open, and slid his tongue into her mouth, as his hands slid down her backside cupped her bottom, pulling her flush against him.

  Triana gasped as she was pressed up against his hard body, and a low hum of arousal answered from deep within. She was vaguely aware of being lowered to the settee, and barely registered the cool air on her legs as her skirts were lifted. She should tell him to stop, should send him away, but she wanted this moment too much. After everything that had happened between them, she still wanted him too much.

  He slowly moved his hand past her calf, her knee, her thigh… until finally, he touched the pulsing heart of her desire. At the first flick of his thumb on her core, she was writhing beneath him. But when he inserted a finger into her wet center, she thought she might shatter completely.

  He covered her neck with kisses, sucking and tormenting her. Triana gave a soft moan, but through the haze of her pleasure, she heard him whisper, “He can’t have you. You’re mine.”

  Soon, the overwhelming crescendo pulsed through her body until it eclipsed all else, and she finally reached the cusp and fell over the edge into sweet oblivion.

  His breathing instantly turned heavier. “That’s it. Give me all your pleasure.” Triana was lost to his words, as wave after wave of sensation washed over her.

  When the tide began to ebb and the distant sound of a door closing somewhere in the house registered in her brain, reality intruded like a glass of cold water had been thrown on her.

  A sob escaped Triana as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and closed her eyes. It was like she was back in the Westerville’s garden, only this time her humiliation that followed was much, much worse. Not only had she’d played right into his hands like the shameless wanton he’d accused her of being, she’d actually enjoyed it.

  “Triana…”

  She couldn’t bear for him to say anything, so she shook her head and turned her face away. “I think you should leave now.”

  She held her breath, for she could tell he hesitated. But, in the end, he conceded to her wishes. It wasn’t until she heard his departure that she opened her eyes and let the tears fall unheeded.

  ***

  Gabriel left the Abernathy townhouse and started walking with no real destination in mind. He shoved a hand through his hair. How had he let this happen? Had he no control over himself at all anymore?

  He’d had every intention of talking to Travell this morning about Triana and his concern over her, but the moment he’d seen Eastbury’s carriage out front, he had stridden up the steps with only one purpose in mind. But as usual, he had a hard time keeping his head on straight around her.

  After practically shoving his way past the butler, he’d entered the parlor and seen red. While he normally kept a tight rein on his emotions, jealousy being a completely foreign one, that troublesome monster had chosen precisely that moment to rear its ugly head with a vengeance. Then, as if acting the part of a rutting boar hadn’t been bad enough,
he’d had to go and bring up that damned whorehouse. Now Eastbury would be wondering how the hell he knew so much about his private life. So, in the end, what had he accomplished, other than making himself appear like a crazed, lust-filled, scoundrel?

  Unfortunately, all he’d done was make another enemy, one that could threaten to compromise this mission even further. He’d also proven to Triana that he really was the evil villain she believed him to be because he couldn’t keep his damned hands to himself.

  Great job, Gabriel.

  “Chiltern.” Gabriel paused in the middle of the street as a familiar voice called out to him. He turned to see Travell crossing the street and scrubbed a hand down his face. Just what I don’t need — to look this man in the face after I just defiled his sister.

  “Curdiff.” He nodded stiffly, preparing to venture on his way.

  “Did I just see you leaving my townhouse?”

  The viscount’s query made him pause. Damn. “Yes.”

  “I see.” Travell frowned slightly, but he said no more on the subject. Instead, he asked, “Shall I still expect you and Lady Worthington at Vauxhall tonight?”

  Gabriel’s tone was clipped as he replied, “Do you doubt it?”

  Travell’s knowing gaze was steady. “What’s going on with you lately, Gabriel?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped. “If you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.”

  ***

  The hired hackney pulled to a stop in front of the rundown tavern in the heart of the Seven Dials district, as a cloaked form carefully alighted. At such an early hour, most thieves and cutthroats that darkened these alleyways had expunged their lust for drink and women the evening before and were sleeping it off, while the ladies of the night walked around in a daze from the hardships of their cold, unforgiving life.