The Secret Seduction of Lady Eliza

by Bethany Sefchick

  And she had chased him across England like some sort of jealous harpy without a care for anything but that. God. Could this get any worse?

  What would he say to her when they reached Fairhaven? Did she even want to know?

  Most likely not but then, it was too late. The almost fortress-like home was rising up out of the darkness before her, illuminated only on occasion by the flashing of lighting as the storm still rolled and threatened across the night sky.

  A few lights flickered in the windows and she suspected that the staff had been instructed to wait up for them. Or to wait for Nicholas anyway. She was an unexpected guest. And probably unwelcome as well. Very well. She would survive.

  As they pulled up, a staff of six hurried out to greet them, led by an older man that Eliza assumed was the butler. Without waiting to be told, a groom helped her off Morning Glory before a stable boy appeared to lead her beloved mare away.

  Her face must have borne a stricken expression for when Nicholas turned to her, she saw his countenance soften just a fraction. But only just. " Simmonds here will see to everything. His staff is well trained so trust in them. And rest assured that your mount is in good hands." Then he turned back to the butler, talking in low, animated tones.

  When a maid appeared at Eliza's side and offered to escort her to her chambers, Eliza meekly agreed. She had done enough damage for the night. No need for the Duke of Enwright's staff to develop an even more low opinion of her than they must already have. She also prayed that no one here would recognize her. Eliza rather liked Enwright's wife, Lady Lucy, along with his sister, Lady Amelia Houghton - or Mellie to her familiars - even though she did not know either of them well. She would hate to have them think poorly of her, too.

  Something else she should have thought of before she set out on this foolhardy adventure, Eliza supposed. If she was not completely ruined by the time she returned to London, she would be soon afterwards. And for the first time, she felt truly guilty. Eliza did not want her parents to suffer any more than they already had. And her actions tonight would bring disgrace upon them.

  And Stephen. God, she had not wished to hurt him either. Not when he was only now just returned to society.

  Eliza continued to silently berate herself as she followed the maid assigned to her into the hulking, black structure of Fairhaven. A crack of lightning split the night and she paused, turning back as the skies finally opened and the rain began to pour down, drenching everyone remaining in the courtyard. Including Nicholas.

  He stood there, arms crossed, looking up at her in silence, an unreadable expression on his face, his normally sensual mouth little more than a hard, grim slash. As the rain plastered his clothes to his body, she could see the hard, bulging muscles being to take shape and she wondered again how in the world she would ever hold his attention. She had thought it might be through the use of kohl and a tight ballgown, proving to him that there was more to her than what he saw. Now she saw the foolishness in such a thought.

  In truth, for all of her supposed intelligence, Eliza really did not know much at all.

  When the Season ended, Nicholas would leave her. If not before, for she was not completely certain that news of her adventure would not reach town before they did on the 'morrow. And when that time came? Eliza would let him go. But not yet. For a few more weeks, he was hers. And she planned to take full advantage. If he was still speaking to her, that was.

  So when the maid tugged at her hand again, urging her inside and out of the weather, Eliza went willingly this time. She knew a hot bath awaited her upstairs, as did a soft bed. And most likely food if she requested it. But so did Nicholas. If he would have her anyway.

  She prayed that he did still desire her. She prayed that her foolish actions tonight had not dampened - or even killed - his desire for her. She wanted more. She had been promised more. And she meant to claim it. If he ever talked to her again, that was.

  Lying in a guest bed at Fairhaven as the storm raged outside, Nicholas was furious. Mostly at himself. He should have known that Eliza would follow him. She had been the one to come to him in the first place, asking for his help to discover Stephen's past. He was also well aware that she had already been in the process of changing her mind about the man who claimed to be her brother. She had now seen enough of him - and listened in the silence as well - to have a better understanding of who the man was. She had eluded to the fact that she was reconsidering her opinion. Therefore, he knew he should have at least informed her of his plans.

  Except that it had all happened so quickly. Frost and Rayne had brought the information to him. He had needed to act. There had been no time. Except... He could have sent a servant to deliver a message to Theresa, Eliza's maid. That had been an option. One he had considered and discarded. Why? He could not say. Other than that perhaps his friends were right. Perhaps he was going soft. Or possibly daft. Either was a possibility, he decided.

  Or perhaps because Eliza had him so damn tied up in knots that he could no longer think properly.

  Whatever the reason, they were safe now. And dry, warm, and well fed thanks to Enwright's hospitality. They were also very much alone. Shortly after he had been escorted to his chambers for the evening, Simmonds had requested leave to allow the staff to retire for the night. Of course Nicholas had granted it, provided that he was roused early enough so that they might be on the Great North Road - albeit headed south - shortly after dawn.

  The butler had also assured Nicholas that no one in London would hear of his and Eliza's misadventures. No one on the staff at Fairhaven would talk and the owner of the Stuck Pig was in deep debt to Enwright. That would be enough to buy not only the innkeeper's silence but that of his patrons as well. It was a relief. But it also underscored how many risks both of them had taken this night. But most especially Eliza. She would be utterly ruined if anyone knew where she had gone this evening.

  And he was still very, very furious with her. In fact, at this precise moment, he wanted to wring the headstrong chit's bloody neck!

  Nicholas had no idea what lie Eliza had told to excuse her absence yet again, but he doubted that she could get away with being out two nights in a row without suffering some sort of consequence. Then again, knowing Lord and Lady Framingham as he did, they might not care. However he suspected that Stephen might. In a series of small, yet impressive, ways the man had shown more concern for Eliza than her parents ever had. In Nicholas' mind, that counted for something. Perhaps Eliza was right. Perhaps it was time to let the matter rest. Just as he had promised.

  When the thunder cracked and the lighting flashed again, this time rattling the windows in their casements, Nicholas launched himself up from the bed and crossed the room to the door that separated his room from Eliza's. The only rooms ready in the house had been the lord and lady's chambers. Suitable for a married couple. That wasn't lost on Nicholas.

  He thought again of Eliza, likely lying in Lady Enwright's bed. Alone in a strange place at night. The storm was a bad one. She might need reassurance.

  She might need to be given a good tongue-lashing as well, but his anger was already fading on that count.

  Then he stilled his hand on the connecting door's knob. He had never lied to himself before. Or not since Ellie, anyway. He was not about to start now.

  Eliza was fine. She was...well, she was Eliza. What more could be said? He had never known another woman quite like her. She did not need him. Hadn't she said those very words to him once?

  But he needed her. He needed her to ease this restlessness inside of him that the bar brawl had stirred up. Memories of a past he wished to forget, the early days of his transformation into The Bloody Duke.

  And that need made the anger he felt at her begin to die away.

  Tonight, he would have killed a man for her and done so gladly. That frightened him. A little anyway. Not that he would ever admit to such as weakness of course. But it did worry him. Nicholas Rosemont knew death. He had witness his best friend kill h
is own father. The Bloody Duke knew death as well. Under that guise, he had killed more men than anyone - not even Prinny - would ever know. And both of those people dwelled inside of him. Two halves of one whole. And he wasn't certain that he liked that idea any more. For once, he wanted to be just Nick again. And Eliza was the only woman who had ever seen him that way.

  So yes, he needed her. At least in this moment he did. He would admit nothing more than that.

  He was also ready to forgive her foolishness. It was partly his fault anyway.

  Without allowing himself to hesitate further, Nicholas yanked on the doorknob, flinging it open. And there, just as he had imagined, was Eliza. And she seemed to be waiting for him.

  Eyes wide, Eliza looked at Nicholas standing in the doorway like some sort of virile pagan god. The fire in the hearth, stoked up only an hour or so ago, blazed brightly, casting shadows across his naked form. For he was naked. Gloriously so.

  Lightning cut across the sky, casting his face in an odd half-light, making him appear both light and dark at the same time. Two sides of one man. It was fitting, somehow. For his dual nature was at the heart of everything he did. And surprisingly, she did not wish for that to change. She liked that about him. Then again, she did not fear him. Not like so many others did.

  He took a step towards her and then hesitated. "Nicholas." His name was a whisper on her lips, as if the very breath was stolen from her body when she uttered it. "I am sorry." It was the only thing she could think of to say.

  "You have nothing to be sorry for, Izzy." The heavy door swung shut behind him and whether he pushed it or it was the wind whistling through Fairhaven, she could not be certain. "It is I who am sorry."

  Sorry for what, Nicholas could not say. Other than for possibly allowing this situation to get so out of hand in the first place. But he could not be sorry for the pretend courtship. Or seducing her. Or bedding her. No, he would never be sorry about any of that.

  Then she smiled at him and he noticed that the nightrail she wore barely covered her. It had clearly been meant for a child, the thin, lacy fabric resting high on her bare thighs. Who had given it to her or where she had found it he did not know but he silently thanked whatever force in the universe had been responsible for such an erotic sight.

  "Then let us both agree to be sorry together, shall we?" Her words were shaky, but she stood proudly before him, refusing to be cowed.

  There was the cheeky wench he had only glimpsed a few times before. This was the Eliza Nicholas remembered. The one he had called Izzy. Not Stephen, but him. He was the person who had dubbed her Izzy. And it was time she knew it.

  Slowly, Nicholas advanced toward her and was gratified when this time, she did not flee. Instead, she stood her ground, her normally bright blue eyes darkening to the color of a stormy sea. "Agreed," he replied. Then he added, "Izzy." He locked his gaze with hers, dark on dark, passion meeting passion. And she was not afraid. Not of him and not of the dark promises he made with his eyes.

  When he reached her, he lifted his hand and threaded his fingers through her hair. She had not bothered to plait it into a braid tonight and it tumbled down, heavy and thick around his hands. It felt like silk. Like a small piece of heaven that he did not deserve. "I gave you that nickname you know."

  "You did not." Eliza reached up to caress his cheek. "Stephen did."

  Nicholas shook his head, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "No. I did. Stephen had called you 'lizard,' actually, but I thought that was horribly cruel. He was cross with you for putting toads in his bed."

  "I did do that," she admitted, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against hers as he drew even closer. "He deliberately left me behind at the Abby when the two of you went to the lake. I so wanted to go along. I was strong enough and he knew it. Even if no one else did. And I was furious with him. So when Nanny wasn't looking I snuck out of the nursery with my basket and gathered some toads." She smiled again in memory. "If the creatures found their way into his bed, it was not my fault."

  Nicholas couldn't help himself. He placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of Eliza's throat. "He called you that horrible name in private so often." Another kiss, this one higher. Followed by another and then another. All the while, Nicholas continued to speak. "And then one day, he said it in front of your governess. So I covered for him." Nicholas kissed the underside of Eliza's jaw, making her shiver. "I said she was mistaken and that Stephen had called you Izzy." He smiled and then another kiss, this one at the corner of her mouth. "So, you see, I was responsible for your nickname."

  This time, Eliza kissed him back, scraping his lower lip with her teeth before biting down. Hard. Minx. And not nearly so proper. "I did not know. Thank you for that, however late I am about it. I like that name ever so much more than being compared to a lizard." She sucked Nicholas' lip into her mouth. She had no idea why, other than it seemed to be the thing to do at the moment. "And I am sorry for calling you 'Emperor' earlier. I didn't mean it. But I could think of nothing else, and I didn't want to say your name." She lowered her voice even more until the words were little more than a faint whisper in the night. "I couldn't very well call you 'lover,' could I?"

  Eliza shrieked in delight as Nicholas swooped her up into his arms and spun her around. She wasn't certain why she had said any of those things. It wasn't like her. Or rather, it wasn't like the old her. But she wasn't that Eliza any longer. She was someone new. And while she was certainly not a doxy, a night in Nicholas' bed had awakened her passions and she wasn't quite ready to bottle them back up again. If she ever would be.

  Then he was depositing her on the bed and before Eliza could even object, the thin nightrail was ripped away. It was old and worn anyway, so she didn't think anyone would object. And if they did? Nicholas would likely purchase a new one. Just so he could say he had enjoyed the pleasure of tearing the clothes from her body. She had a feeling he would rather enjoy that.

  "I want you, Izzy," he growled, rising above her and she moaned. "But first, I want to see you come for me, my sweet. I never did get that pleasure last night. My eyes were closed. Each time, for you were so perfect that I almost could not bear it. But not this time." Then he was at her breasts, suckling at her nipples and scraping the sensitive buds with his teeth.

  Nicholas drove her wild with the way he touched her, his hands everywhere seemingly all at once. As he feasted on her breasts, he stroked the flat of her stomach with one hand while he used his other to dip his fingers inside of her.

  "So wet. Just for me," he murmured against her skin as he kissed and licked at the dark valley between her breasts. That seemed to be a favorite spot of his, not that she objected. "So ready. Aren't you, love?"

  Eliza had been ready for Nicholas since the moment she had walked into The Stuck Pig and saw him sitting there, all glowering anger and barely leashed fury. She should have been terrified. Probably any other English miss with half a brain would have been. But this was Nicholas and he would not harm her. He never had in the past.

  Deciding to be bold, Eliza scraped her teeth across Nicholas' throat, eliciting a moan from him that nearly matched her own. "It seems that I am always ready for you, Nick." Then she arched up to kiss him. This time it was she who opened her mouth to his, demanding entrance. Where this boldness was coming from she could not say, but she did not question it either.

  Running her hands down over his magnificent chest, she palmed his flat male nipples, delighting in the hiss of desire she managed to elicit from him. She still did not know everything that he liked, but she was learning. And she had the rest of the Season to discover his body in exquisite detail.

  "Minx," he growled, but there was laughter in his tone and he rolled her over so that he was now on his back. She straddled his lap, feeling the pressure of his cock against her arse. Then, his eyes darkened, so inky this time that they were black. "Ride me," he whispered and there was something almost like a plea in his voice.

  Eliza shook her head. "I
don't know how." One night in bed with the man and he expected her to be a doxy?

  "Then I shall teach you." Apparently he didn't expect her to know. Then, he was lifting her by her hips. "Guide my cock inside of you, Izzy. I want to feel you around me. It will be exquisite. I promise you."

  With a little instruction from Nicholas, Eliza managed to guide his stiff, swollen manhood to her entrance. Then, with him still guiding her hips, she sank down upon his shaft until he was fully seated inside of her. The sensation was unlike any she could have ever imagined.

  "Now ride me." It was a command. Not a request. It took a few moments for Eliza to find her rhythm and to learn what Nicholas liked. Then, before long, she was arching up and over him while he palmed her breasts, pinching and squeezing her nipples until she began to tremble and quake.

  Over and over she slid her hot, slick sheath down the hard length of him, drawing him inside of her only to take him to the brink of madness before sliding away. Over and over, she writhed and twisted, her body so alive with need that she thought she might die before she found her release.

  For his part, Nicholas urged her on, his own body trembling so that he would not beat her to release. "That's it, love. Just a little more, Izzy. So close. God! Yes!" Beneath her, his thighs trembled just as much as hers did, his big body quaking with each thrust of his hips into her welcoming body

  "Look at me, Izzy," he commanded when she closed her eyes, unable to bear the sweet torture much longer. "I need to see you. I need you to see me." There was desperation in his eyes and she found that she could not look away even if she had tried. "I need you. Please."

  "Nick!" she cried as he reached between them and stroked her nub. Eliza flew apart, her eyes locked with his as he followed her over the precipice, spilling his seed inside of her.