The Rakehell's Seduction (The Seduction Series Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  “I’ll honor my debt to you, Mr. Fairfax,” Martin had drunkenly promised, over and over again.

  Gareth Fairfax, following behind her brother, grabbed Martin by his coat collar and rammed him up against the stone wall of the nearest building.

  “Honor your debt? With what, pray tell? You played that last hand without a shilling to your name,” Gareth growled. “You haven’t even redeemed your vowels for the last few times of play. I demand satisfaction.” Gareth released Martin, who sagged against the wall in defeat.

  Martin’s head had bowed wearily in submission. “Name the location and time.”

  “There is a field two miles east of the Crow tavern. Be there tomorrow morning one hour before the sun rises. There is a full moon. That will do. I have no intention of being chased out of the country because of you. Bring a second and your choice of weapon.” Gareth had stalked off, leaving Martin alone. He shook his head as though to clear it, and with steps none too steady, started walking in Helen’s direction.

  When he passed by the alcove where she was hiding, she stepped out and struck her brother as hard as she could on the shoulder. Her anger flared. “You fool! That man is going to kill you!”

  “Helen?” Martin said in shock. “What the bloody hell are you doing here? You should be at home.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I had hoped to get you out of that place before you lost everything we have. It seems I am too late.” She hoped her accusation stung. It was nothing less than he deserved.

  Martin glanced at her. Under the glow of the streetlight, she saw guilt deepening the color of his lightly tanned skin.

  “I’m sorry, Helen… I thought I could win back our money and more.” His tone was apologetic, but it lost some of its effect when he hiccupped.

  Helen waited for Martin to say something, but he did not. Her voice shook with a mixture of fear and fury. “I forbid you to go tomorrow morning. What will I do if you die, Martin?”

  “I won’t die,” he replied sullenly. “I’m a crack shot. I stand an even chance.”

  “An even chance of what?” Helen nearly shrieked. “Killing a man and being made to leave the country? Do you even care what would happen to me without you?”

  “Is that all I am? Someone to take care of you?” he shot back.

  Helen’s eyes burned with tears and she threw her arms around her brother. “No, you fool. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. How can you not understand that? After mama and papa…” her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “I cannot lose you, too.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter, does it? I have to meet Fairfax tomorrow.” Her brother’s mouth assumed a mulish cast, and she knew it would do no good to argue with him.

  He was as stubborn as their father had been. They did not speak the rest of the way back to their lodgings, but Helen’s mind worked frantically. She loved Martin, he was her other half, as any true twins were. She had to save him, had to find a way to fix what he’d done, or if not fix it, then sacrifice herself for him. It was the only way. One of them had to survive, and he stood a better chance on his own than she did.

  She’d formed a plan. She and her brother were almost the same height, and their build was similar enough that as children they’d often been mistaken for one another. If she dressed as a male, could she pass for him? When her brother woke up early the next morning to prepare for the duel, Helen took her father’s cane, one of the last pieces of his belongings they hadn’t sold, and knocked Martin out. She dressed in an extra set of his clothes and locked Martin in his room.

  It was a simple solution to a complex problem. Martin was a man and could live on without her. It was easier for men to make their way in the world. A penniless young lady with no family and no connections had no such luck. The best she could hope for was a position as a governess or companion, and without references, those positions were almost impossible to find. The only other possibility was one she would not consider. Even being a maid would be better than selling her body.

  And that was how she’d ended up on this field, facing the one man she’d dreamt about dancing with and knowing she never would. A man above her in station, money, and power. A man with secretive smiles, and a soft, low seductive voice, surrounded by rumors whispered behind fans in the assembly halls of how he must make a good lover. She would never know if any of it was true now, not that she’d ever had a chance to earn his interest at the balls before.

  Mr. Worthing cleared his throat. “Fairfax, would you be willing to work with Mr. Banks?”

  Even in the pre-dawn light, Helen could see Gareth’s face darken in anger. “I would find a way to repay you, sir,” Helen said quickly. Like a man about to be hanged, she clung to the last few minutes she’d have of life, even if it meant lying. There would be no way to repay him, of course, but she had to try. She had to hope her opponent still had some kindness and would delay her demise a few precious seconds.

  “You’ve had weeks to repay me, and I’ve not seen one shilling. There will be no settlement.” Gareth’s tone was quieter, almost resigned, as he checked his pistol, flicked his glance at her, and then nodded to Worthing.

  So much for compassion. The last hope of her survival had died with his curt nod. Helen’s heart kicked into a faster pace. Her fear created a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth as she realized she’d been hoping the duel wouldn’t actually happen. But of course it would. Men like Gareth valued honor, and her brother had none. This duel was unavoidable.

  Worthing sighed heavily, apparently convinced there was no turning back. He and Bennett walked several yards away to watch the proceedings.

  She and Gareth were alone, closer than they’d ever been before tonight. How many times had she peered through the crowds of dancers in the assembly rooms and watched him dance with other women, wishing she was the one that close to him? Now here she was, close enough to dance, but it was to be a dance of death. A hollow ache filled her chest at the thought, and a whisper of fear made her heart shudder behind her ribs.

  I don’t want to die, but what choice is there?

  The faint breeze brought his scent of sandalwood and the faintest hint of horses and leather to her nose. The aroma made her homesick for the stables in her parents’ home in the country, a home she and Martin had to sell in order to survive. The pistol grew heavier in her hands, the wood and metal sinking into her palm with force as she curled her fingers around it more securely. The silence and her fear made it all suddenly unbearable.

  “Very well,” Helen growled, losing her ability to remain calm and still any longer. The only way to quell her fear was to embrace her anger. “Name your distance, sir.” If she was to die, let it be done already. This waiting and delay was eating away at her courage.

  “Thirty paces.” Gareth replied after a moment’s hesitation. He seemed to be peering at her more sharply, as though something had attracted his attention. His usually sensual full lips were thinned into a frown. Surely he couldn’t have realized she wasn’t Martin… She had to distract him.

  “Thirty.” She nodded, relieved to know it helped mask the way her entire body shook with a new wave of fear. She’d never imagined facing death like this, especially not at the hands of a man she desired. Fate was cruel. “Let us finish this.” She turned her back to Gareth and waited.

  He closed the distance between them and put his back up against hers. She shivered at the sudden warmth of his body against hers, his backside pressed ever so lightly against her lower back. His clothing whispered against hers, like a strange sort of dance, and then Gareth moved away as Mr. Worthing began to count. She began to mark the paces as well, trying to ignore the roaring of blood in her ears and the realization that each step brought her that much closer to her death.

  When Mr. Worthing called out to halt Helen and Gareth at thirty paces, they turned to face each other. The velvet skies were paler now, as though the stars had blinked, closing their celestial eyes to miss the grisly scene about to unfold belo
w. Helen saw Gareth turn sideways and raise his arm. She copied the movement, aiming her pistol at Gareth’s chest. The pale moonlight glinted off the gun in his hand as he trained it on her chest. Her entire body started to shake as instinctive fear took over. There was a pistol pointed at her heart. Her hand trembled, the barrel of her own gun wavering. She wouldn’t shoot him, there was no doubt of that.

  “One,” Worthing called out. “Two…”

  Helen’s eyes shot up from Gareth’s pistol to his face. He was far enough away to appear more a shadow dressed in black with glowing eyes than the man she’d longed to share the secrets of her heart with.

  “Three—”

  Her finger clenched around the trigger and she fired without meaning to. Her shot went wide, grazing Gareth’s shoulder. He flinched but did not fire. Blood sprayed along his shirt, nearly black in the distance. She gasped and sucked in a violent breath, her vision spinning momentarily.

  Horrified she had actually hit him, she dropped her pistol and it landed with a thunk in the grass. She ran over to him, reaching out to check the damage.

  His dark eyes flashed in surprise as she clutched his arm and examined the wound.

  “Oh Good Heavens!” she cried. “The one time I fire one of these stupid things…”

  By the time she realized her higher feminine tone had betrayed her, Gareth, in one swift motion, had dropped his own pistol and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her against him. He ripped the mask from her face. Her pins sprung loose from the rough movement, releasing the bound up hair. The loose waves dropped down against her shoulders, the soft strands caressing her cheeks as she ducked her head, hiding her face from him. Gareth’s look of rage turned to sheer astonishment.

  “Where is Martin Banks?” His voice was rough and low. “And who the devil are you?”

  His grip was too strong and Helen started to lose feeling in her arm. “Please, you’re hurting me,” she gasped.

  Her plea went ignored. He didn’t release his hold on her, but he lightened his hold so it was no longer bruising.

  “Where is Banks?” He shook her and shouted angrily.

  “Unconscious, in our lodgings.” Helen tried to break free, but his iron grip held her fast. “I could not let you kill him.” His eyes sharpened at her defiance.

  Worthing and Bennett ran towards them.

  “A woman?” Worthing called out in surprise. “Really, Fairfax…you should have told me,” When Worthing strode over to her and Gareth, his eyes shifted between them as they stood locked together by Gareth’s vice-like grip.

  “Let go of her, Fairfax,” Worthing slowly reached out and pried her loose from Gareth’s arms.

  Gareth batted Worthing’s protective arm aside and gripped her by the shoulders, rattling her. “Who are you?” he snarled, his white, even teeth shining in the dim light. “Why are you here in Banks’s place?”

  “Let go of her,” Bennett growled and moved a step toward Gareth. Worthing lifted a hand to stay Bennett and tried once more to intervene, but Gareth dragged her away from Worthing’s reach.

  “Well? Answer me! I have no intention of hurting you, but I will get answers.” His angry gaze bore into her like a hot poker.

  Helen bit back furious tears. “I’m his sister. He is my only family.” Her body started that awful shaking again, this time from the shock of being alive and unhurt. “I would be utterly alone should he perish.”

  “Don’t you dare cry. I’ll not be moved by a woman’s tears,” he threatened, but his grip softened immediately, belaying whatever cruelty hung in his words.

  “Fairfax,” Worthing cautioned at the same time Bennett said, “Release her!”

  Everything happened so fast, it was almost a blur. Bennett tried to step between Gareth and Helen but stumbled back as Gareth pummeled him in the stomach. Helen screamed and struck out at Gareth, slapping him hard across the face. Worthing dove out of the way as Gareth tackled Helen to the ground. Bennett tried once more to rescue her but was felled by another punch from Gareth.

  “Damnit Fairfax, hold off!” Worthing knelt by the unconscious Bennett.

  “Keep that bloody fool away from me. I’m not going to hurt her,” Gareth growled. “I want her to answer me.” He was gazing down at her, a new light in his eyes, a light that was less dangerous, or perhaps more so, but in a different way. As though he was appraising her, or assessing her value, the way a man studies a good piece of horseflesh at the market when selecting a ride. It was not the gaze of a man who would strike out at her or wound her.

  Helen gasped, struggling beneath Gareth’s body. She wasn’t afraid now, but more angry at the way he had manhandled her. He sat back on his heels, his knees on either side of her hips, still pinning her to the ground. His chest heaved with panting breaths, and his palms fell to his thighs.

  She attempted to raise her hips but couldn’t budge. “Please, let me go.” He tensed at her movement, his fingers digging into his thighs.

  “Whatever shall I do with you, Miss Banks?” Gareth’s breath evened out. “We have ourselves quite the problem.”

  “Fairfax…” Worthing’s tone held an edge of warning. Gareth ignored him, a calculating gleam in his eyes.

  Swallowing hard, she met his gaze as evenly as she could.

  “I have a proposal for you, Miss Banks,” Gareth said peacefully, but the shadows in his gaze made her wary. One of his hands drifted to her hair, allowing her blonde curls to cascade around and through his fingers. He suddenly smiled, taking one lock and twining it around his index finger, his eyes meeting hers. “If you come to my home with me, I will forget the debts owed to me. Or I send you back to Bath, find that scoundrel you call a brother, and finish this duel properly.”

  Helen blinked. Go home with Gareth Fairfax? She may have been an innocent, but she knew that if he were to take her to his home, she would be compromised—ruined for marriage. Certainly ruined for any other man. A blush warmed her whole body just thinking of what he would do to her if she agreed. Ruined. Part of her was filled with a secret, dark curiosity. Would he seduce her? She should have been more frightened by the fact that she was curious enough to wonder what it would be like to be with him. Women seemed to like seduction under the right circumstances. A spark of heat shot through her body at the thought of Gareth willfully seducing her.

  “If I agree to go with you, what would you do with me?” The words came out thick, her tongue seemingly unable to form the words as she dared to ask about his intentions.

  He didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead he rubbed his thumb and forefinger against the lock of her hair. Finally, he let the loose curl drop and settled his hand back on his thigh, shifting his hips slightly. It pressed him harder against her and her own body flashed with a strange, queer sort of fire.

  “You can settle your brother’s debts to me one way or another.” His tone was black as midnight, dark as sin, and rather than frighten her, it made her tremble with longing. She had heard enough women speak behind closed doors at the balls to know that what could happen between a man and woman in bed could be pleasurable for both parties.

  Worthing stood up and eyed his friend. “Fairfax, you can’t just take her home.”

  Gareth’s eyes searched her face and settled on her lips. “She’s already said that Banks is her only relative, Worthing. No one will miss her. It’s her choice. She’s free to leave, or she can come with me and save her brother’s life.”

  “You can’t be serious. The young woman was only defending her brother. You cannot ruin a lady over that.”

  She watched the exchange, wondering why Worthing was so ready to defend her.

  “Well, Miss Banks?” He continued to study her, his body keeping hers trapped as though there really was no option but to accept him. “Make your choice. Dawn is chasing us, and I, for one, don’t wish to be here when the sun fully rises.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I promise to take good care of you and give you so much pleasure you might feel you’ll die
from it.” The feel of his warm breath against the sensitive shell of her ear sent sparks shooting down her spine and she tensed.

  Helen gazed up at him, desire running riotously through her body, and her mind whispered dark suggestions, borne of long years of need for things she barely understood. This was a chance to taste temptation, to be with a handsome man and know passion. There would never be love, she knew that, but passion might prove a memory worth having, especially with a man like him. Did she dare, though? Any chance of marrying, having children, would be at an end, and if anyone discovered where she was, her reputation would be ruined. Even obtaining employment as a maid would become difficult. Yet Martin would be safe, and he may yet find a way to make a living and support himself and her. It was a feeble hope, but that would be the only future she could hope for. Gareth had said he’d treat her well. Really, what choice did she have?

  “Yes, Mr. Fairfax. I’ll go with you.”

  The finality behind her words was heavy, and Gareth tensed above her, eyes widening. He hadn’t expected her to agree? A ripple of power flowed through her. She liked surprising him. He scanned her face again, his eyes darkening, but not with anger. This time it was something else that gleamed in their depths.

  Worthing moved towards them, one hand raised. “Now, hold on Fairfax. I must insist you think this through.”

  Gareth slid off Helen and grabbed her arms, pulling her onto her feet. She barely heard the men arguing. All she was aware of was Gareth’s hands on her body as he lifted her up and into him, letting her lean against his arm, as though aware she needed help to stand. The muscles beneath his shirt were taut and large. Heat emanated against her palms when she rested them briefly against his chest as she finally pushed away to stand on her own. He kept hold of her wrists, though, despite the tentative tug she gave to be released.

  “I’m not in the mood for a lecture, Worthing. You take care of that…fellow. I will bring Miss Banks to my house. After you’ve seen to him, you can come and rescue the woman if you feel you must.” There was a mixture of amusement and warning in Gareth’s tone that confused Helen. “Provided you can convince her to go.”