A Warriner to Seduce Her

by Virginia Heath

  ‘It is that.’ He watched her blink, her long lashes and fine eyes making his heart stutter. ‘I hope we survive it. Being shaken to death in a hackney is not how I had planned on leaving this mortal coil.’ She was so very beautiful he found himself looking away because he couldn’t think of a single sensible thing to say which did not make him sound gauche. Not a single witticism sprung to mind. No flattering words. Nothing flirtatious. Just nothing. The memorised script of seduction had disappeared out of his mind, or been buried under a whole swathe of new thoughts. Questioning thoughts which had him second-guessing himself. Jake had never felt so strange in his own skin. It was as if it didn’t fit. There were at least another twenty minutes till they arrived in Mayfair. Twenty painful, awkward minutes now that he had apparently lost his ability for seduction thanks to the distasteful flavour of his deception.

  Perhaps if she hadn’t told him about her lonely past and perhaps if he didn’t genuinely yearn to have her for himself, Fliss would be just another mission for King and country. Somewhere along the way he had developed both a conscience and she had thoroughly charmed him when he had failed so spectacularly in charming her. When had that happened?

  Admitting momentary defeat, Jake shifted his bottom back to his side of the bench. ‘Tell me about your work at the convent. What is your favourite subject to teach?’

  It was easier to let her talk than to attempt to do what he had been sent to do. All the while she was talking about her love of books, Jake pondered his odd mood and his odder growing attachment to the bespectacled woman sat next to him. While she might not have any messy feelings for him, he had some for her. That was a revelation. Feelings that made his heart both ache as well as soar and which had sneaked up on him when he hadn’t been looking. Warm and comforting feelings. A sense of rightness. Of wonder and excitement. Complicated feelings which were unlike anything he’d encountered and not entirely as abhorrent as he had always assumed such attachments would be. It was more than a desire to know her better or to lose himself in her body. Among those familiar feelings lurked others.

  A need to protect. The last place Jake wanted to deliver her back to was Rowley’s house in Mayfair—yet that was exactly where the British government needed her to be. There was also a worryingly possessive edge to it. He didn’t want her being used by her uncle any more than he wanted her to spend her life hidden in a convent making the best of the hand that fate had dealt her. He wanted Fliss to have a wonderful life, filled with laughter and family and the sense of belonging she deserved to have. The woman needed a family of her own. An adoring husband. A dependable, solid man of impeccable morals. Someone who recognised the precious jewel he had married and who spent the rest of his days living just to see her smile—except thinking about that faceless, lucky fellow filled his head with rage and irrational jealousy.

  Now there was a thought. Possessiveness, the primal need to protect and irrational male jealousy were all emotions Jake had witnessed his brothers experience for the three women they had chosen to spend eternity with. Those and romantic love, of course. Jack, Jamie and Joe were all hopelessly in love with their women, too, the sort of love which transcended sibling love. All-consuming and passionate love, but in their case it had not turned malignant. Was it too risky to allow himself the same luxury? Probably. Because he knew there was a little too much of his father in him for comfort and he did have the reliable habit of disappointing people. Horrifically.

  And now he could add maudlin to the awful yearning which had apparently numbed his powers of seduction.

  Capital.

  With Fliss, it seemed, he was doomed to fail on that score for ever.

  If he could temper his odd feelings with the reassuring certainty that he was seducing Fliss with for ever on his mind, secure in the knowledge that he would never let her down with his own inherited selfishness, then he would seduce her now. Guilt free. And he’d put himself immediately out of his self-imposed misery. But Jake could never be guilt-free any more than he could fail to be a disappointment. Reliably unreliable Warriners, of which he was merely one in a very long line, couldn’t be trusted with the happiness of others. Especially when they were out to seduce them under false pretences in the first place.

  ‘Oh, no!’ They hit another unforgiving road of cobbles and Fliss giggled as she was thrown about the carriage. ‘This driver should supply his passengers with anchors, or something.’ Being lighter and shorter than him, the poor thing did seem to be bearing the brunt of his shocking choice of carriage.

  ‘Here—let me help.’ Jake wound his arm firmly about her shoulders and used some of his weight to hold her down, frantically trying to ignore how utterly wonderful she felt against him and how desperately he wanted to kiss her. ‘When we visit St Paul’s we’ll take a smelly hackney and some nosegays.’

  She giggled again. ‘You do make me smile, Jake.’ That smile rendered all the maudlin regrets temporarily forgotten and he chuckled alongside her. That smile, the warmth of her body next to him, the inexplicable lightness in his chest and the perfect feel of her beneath his arm proved to be his undoing. Lord, she was lovely. Just this innocent touch fired his body and soothed his aching heart. Made him temporarily forget all the reasons why he shouldn’t be listening to his heart.

  ‘Berkeley Square!’ The driver’s shout accompanied the sudden jolt as the carriage began to slow.

  Reluctantly he let go of her, internally cursing the swiftness of the journey while simultaneously thankful he had resisted. Because if he hadn’t then he knew that a mere kiss would be more than a mere kiss. It would be the start of something he didn’t have the strength to stop. A path he was too terrified to go down, yet so very tempted to that denying himself hurt. Deep in his chest. Dangerously in the vicinity of his black heart. Fliss reached for her small reticule and clutched it in both hands as she turned to him. Her smile this time was wistful.

  ‘Thank you for today. For everything. Thank heavens you happened to be in Hyde Park this morning. You do have an uncanny knack of being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. At times, you almost seem dependable.’

  ‘Perhaps fate is trying to tell us something?’ Something certainly seemed to want to tell him something. Jake was feeling decidedly off-kilter and didn’t give a damn.

  ‘I don’t believe in fate. Coincidence, perhaps. But even so, today has been the best fun I have had since arriving in London.’

  ‘It’s been the most fun I’ve had in months. Years, probably.’ As soon as he said them, he realised the words were true. Somewhere along the line he had become jaded and his profession as a seducer had become dull. Each seduction a memorised routine offering little challenge and culminating in less and less satisfaction. But then Jake usually only offered his body and kept his heart guarded. It had never beat with such purpose before, or stuttered in his chest because of a pair of wonky spectacles or a smile as bright and as therapeutic as warm summer sunshine. ‘Don’t go back to Cumbria yet.’ An odd knot formed in his throat. Jake would be bereft if she left now. Perhaps even heartbroken.

  Definitely heartbroken.

  Her green eyes gazed deeply into his to see if the words were sincere and he saw the exact moment that she did. ‘Oh, Jake...’ Perhaps because it was now as necessary as breathing, his head dipped of its own accord this time. Jake had no control over it. He didn’t recall a Lord Fennimore, or a Crispin Rowley or his well-used seducer’s arsenal or his parents’ toxic love. Instead, nature and the overwhelming rightness of Fliss guided his actions. His nose gently brushed hers. He nuzzled her cheek. Then he surrendered to the uncontrollable need to taste her.

  By his usual standards it was a clumsy kiss. A little too eager. A little too fast and too loaded with meaning, but all the sweeter for it. The kiss was innocently soft, for both his own sanity and because he was too busy glorying in the perfection of the moment to push for more. Gentle and tender somehow seemed r
ight as this was not a seduction, it was an exploration. An overture from his foolish, wary heart to hers. To see if it might miraculously want more, too, despite both their better judgements, but the moment her lips responded he was ablaze. The simple, chaste kiss became more significant than any other before. Obliterated all previous kisses and conquests completely from his memory until there were no other kisses. Had never been any other conquests. It wasn’t the master seducer who was kissing Fliss. It was just Jake.

  Heart and soul.

  She tasted of ripe summer peaches, but was as intoxicating and as addictive as absinthe. Fliss melted against him, sighing into his mouth and splaying her hands on his chest to steady them as the dusty carriage shuddered to a stop. It shouldn’t have been perfect, but it was. It shouldn’t have felt right, but it did. His aching heart swelled with the knowledge that this—right here and right now—was suddenly everything.

  It took all his strength to pull away, but when he did, he was glad. Those lush, plump lips were parted. Her lovely eyes were wide and had darkened with desire. He knew women too well to confuse it with anything else. She wanted him and he wanted her. It was that simple and that wonderful. Whatever battle they had been waging was lost, yet Jake had no idea quite who the victor was. He traced the soft curve of her cheek with the pad of one finger, drinking in the wholly wonderful sight of her undone.

  ‘That was a mistake.’ Her voice was breathy, her chest rising and falling erratically. Those green eyes saying the exact opposite to her canny northern mouth.

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’ He cupped her cheek with his palm and allowed himself to drown in her gorgeous eyes. ‘It was inevitable. Fate.’ As if drawn by some magical force they both inched together again. As their lips almost touched, Fliss broke the spell by scrambling across the seat.

  ‘I should go. Aunt Daphne and Cressida will be worried.’ Her clumsy fingers wrestled ineffectually with the latch.

  ‘Let me help you.’ He placed his hand possessively in the small of her back and she leapt away as if burned.

  ‘No, thank you. I can manage.’ The door swung open and she practically fell out on to the street, then tried, and failed, to compose herself. ‘Thank you again for...saving me earlier. And for today...and...and... Goodbye, Mr Warriner.’

  At the formal use of the word mister her eyes flicked to his lips again. He watched her swallow nervously, noting the becoming warm flush which heated her cheeks. She was flustered, but not angry. A little baffled, yet clearly stunned by her equally enthusiastic part in the proceedings. Her eyes finally sought out his in question and she stared for a few seconds incredulous, gloriously lost for words for once and that made him happy because he felt the same. A little baffled. A little giddy. Almost drunk with the power of it all. When her words came, they came in a squeak.

  ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  ‘Yes, I am...but you like me anyway.’ She didn’t deny it. ‘I’ve reserved an alcove at Almack’s tomorrow. I shall see you there.’ Nor did she answer. But she turned and scurried off, clumsily tripping over her own feet in her hurry to run away, emphasising how rattled she felt.

  It mirrored Jake’s own feelings. He was beyond rattled, yet strangely happily so and couldn’t say why. He sat contentedly and watched her lovely bottom sway in time to her marching and allowed himself a satisfied smile. Fliss was neither prim nor proper, nor was she as immune to his charms as she repeatedly claimed and rather bizarrely, rattled or not, more than a little bit scared by it all, Jake was suddenly looking forward to Almack’s for the first time in his life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Changing for another smelly dinner with the Earl

  ‘Where is my blue gown?’ Fliss didn’t own many outfits, but the blue watered silk was her best dress and she wanted to wear her own clothes for tonight’s ball, rather than any from the new wardrobe she had been gifted. Those bold clothes did not feel like hers. The day dresses were cut too close to hug her figure and the evening gowns, although stunning, were more daring than she felt comfortable with. Comfortable being the operative word, as she hadn’t felt anything close in over twenty-four hours and was desperate to restore some equilibrium to her own off-kilter biology. Thanks to Jake, and a very foolhardy kiss, her natural, primal, carnal urges were creating chaos within her body.

  Even the new shift she was stood in wasn’t helping. The gossamer fabric was practically translucent and did little to cover her modesty, but as it was the only garment the young maid had brought to her after her bath, Fliss had had no choice other than to put it on while her hair was dressed. It did serve to make her supremely conscious of her needy body though. Each time the wispy fabric whispered against the tips of her breasts, a fresh wave of desire coursed through her which inevitably led to her reliving that splendid kiss over and over again. In her own clothes, Fliss would feel more like herself, or at least she hoped she would, rather than this shamelessly wanton stranger who currently occupied her skin.

  If only she wasn’t so tempted. Sorely tempted. Not that she had any doubts about the unreliability of the man. Gracious, no. Fliss’s feet were still firmly on the ground despite the lure of those twinkling stars in his eyes. Jake Warriner was a bad bet if ever there was one. However, she was not looking for for ever. Not in her wildest dreams would she contemplate such nonsense with a man like him but... Surely there was no harm in a mild flirtation? A tiny romantic adventure with a man who her instincts told her was noble and trustworthy despite his shocking reputation. A man who called himself a disappointment, but seemed angry to be one. A man who had the uncanny knack of being in just the right place at just the right time, saving her from her uncle’s meddling or her own maudlin thoughts. That peculiar jolt of awareness she experienced whenever he was close by was as comforting as it was alarming. A man she was coming to suspect might be one she could truly depend on. All the time. Or at least her heart hoped he was. She was honest enough with herself to admit that. Perhaps it was fate that had decided Jake was destined to be Fliss’s knight in shining armour? Her lips tingled in anticipation at the prospect.

  Fate! Destiny! Knights! What in heaven’s name was the matter with her to be so...so...ripe for the taking? She knew better than to kiss a rake. Or at least she had always believed she did. Until she had succumbed to one and now couldn’t get the dratted kiss out of her mind. ‘I need to wear my blue gown.’ As both a reminder of who she truly was and as armour.

  Her maid’s eyes dropped guiltily to the floor. ‘I believe it has been sent to be laundered, miss. I have taken the liberty of laying out a gown already for this evening.’

  Fliss had just seen it and heartily disapproved. The emerald-green taffeta was scandalously low at the front and significantly lower in the back. She would feel practically naked from the waist up in that thing, especially if Jake Warriner saw her in it. Already that man had taken enough liberties with her person—or at least he had in her fevered dreams where she had happily let him because that one kiss had apparently set her fevered body into a carnal frenzy. ‘If I remember correctly, Kitty, you said exactly the same thing the other night despite the fact it didn’t need cleaning in the first place. I fail to believe that the laundry takes so long in a household of this size.’

  Fliss couldn’t leave a room without crashing into a giant footman. One in particular seemed to follow her everywhere. Uncle Crispin had more staff than one bachelor who usually lived alone could possibly need. He had ten maids that Fliss knew of and a veritable army of footmen and even with the addition of her aunts and herself as temporary guests, that was excessive. A cool draught made her newly wanton nipples harden further and she crossed her arms over them in case the maid saw. ‘Go and retrieve it, please.’ The blue silk would cover up most of her suddenly heavy, over-sensitive bosom.

  The maid hesitated and then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, miss, but his lordship has instructed that you must wear one of your new gowns tonight.�
��

  ‘Has he now?’ The very idea was preposterous after yesterday—unless her uncle desperately wanted a tongue lashing. He was certainly due one. ‘I’m afraid his lordship has no say in my attire. In fact, now that I consider it, I think I would prefer to wear something warmer tonight.’ Something that didn’t make her feel bold and attractive and ripe. Something which might encourage her dashing rake to lose interest and the wanton peaks under the scandalous chemise to flatten.

  Her dashing rake! Gracious. This was getting dangerously out of hand.

  If her blue silk was missing, then Fliss would jolly well turn up for dinner and the subsequent ball in one of her plain day dresses. A very warm one over layer upon layer of sensible underthings. Actions had been speaking louder than words for days now, so much so she was beginning to enjoy watching her uncle’s mouth set into a disapproving line.

  It was the only communication they seemed to share which he listened to, but at least he noticed her, which had to account for something. Yesterday he had been furious when she had returned home, somewhat flushed thanks to her indiscretion, but still buoyed from her rebellion. They had exchanged words. His had been angry, hers had been matter of fact.

  ‘I am my own mistress, Uncle Crispin, and I shall do as I please with or without your permission. If that causes you a problem, I am happy to curtail my visit here.’

  When he stormed off, Fliss knew she had won. She had refused to tell him where she had gone and who she had been with. She wouldn’t make Jake take the blame when the decision to leave Rotten Row had been hers and hers alone. That, and a tiny part of her, a part wholly ruled by her reckless biology, didn’t want to alert her uncle to any potential chance liaisons in deserted alcoves in the future. Or tonight as Jake had suggested...

  And she was doing it again! Thinking of Jake when she was supposed to be cleansing him and her momentary lapse in judgement from her mind. It was just a kiss, for pity’s sake, and certainly not her first. Hardly something to get so worked up about. She would brush it off just as she had his flirting. Just as she had brushed off countless similar overtures from gentlemen in the past. A meaningless kiss meant nothing, after all. Although if she was brutally honest with herself, which of course she always was, this one felt entirely different. Worryingly different. All-consuming and gloriously different. The exact opposite of meaningless.