Temptation's Darling

by Johanna Lindsey

  Monty had taken off his jacket but otherwise was quite properly dressed. As was she, though not in her ball gown, and she hadn’t tied her hair back, had left it loose as she would for bed. She wasn’t wearing shoes because she’d had to tiptoe down the corridor to his room. And he’d offered her a chair while he paced in front of it, gathering his thoughts, just like a teacher. Frankly, she was disappointed. He hadn’t told her anything yet that he couldn’t have told her while they’d danced at the ball.

  “His neck, for example,” he continued. “Perhaps he has a lock of hair out of place you can push back and graze the side of his neck with your knuckles as you do.”

  “He has short hair,” she reminded him.

  “So he does,” he said. “I suppose I was imagining m’self.”

  She laughed, feeling a trifle more interested, and suggested, “Shall I try it now?”

  “No, no, a few more instructions first before you practice—if I can survive the practice.”

  She grinned and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger in a coy manner. “If you keep saying things like that, I might think you’ve lured me here for other reasons.”

  He smiled. “Now that is a perfect remark for your target. Remember it when you have him at your mercy again.”

  Was he joking? “I wasn’t thinking about him.”

  He ran a hand through his loose hair in a frustrated manner before giving her a pointed look. “Yes, you were. You don’t want me to think otherwise or we won’t accomplish a bloody thing tonight.”

  Her pulse began to race. He was doing it again, implying that she tempted him, yet keeping his distance. He didn’t really want to give these lessons, not when he continued to say or show that he wanted her for himself. He was being so utterly magnanimous in offering to help her in this way. She shouldn’t be making it harder for him.

  She pursed her lips and sat back in her chair. “Do continue.”

  He nodded. “Now if you find yourself alone with your reluctant fiancé, perhaps on a terrace, you can be bolder, move in close and give him that suggestive smile you demonstrated earlier. And remember to keep gazing into his eyes as you do it. Debutantes will look away, blush, display their nervousness in obvious ways, but you won’t be doing any of that, at least not with him.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not sure I’ve ever done any of that.”

  “No, you are certainly not the typical debutante. I suppose you have Nestor to thank for that?”

  “My father,” she corrected.

  “Really?”

  She shrugged. “He allowed me to behave as I liked, not as I ought to.”

  He smiled. “I’m not sure he did you a favor in that—well, as far as preparing you for normal situations. However, for your particular purpose, you are lucky to be accustomed to boldness and daring. You can be assured that Daniel might be beyond the pale in boldness, so you need to be prepared for that, which we shall address in a moment. For the last minor lessons, always modulate your voice when you’re with him. No matter how angry he might make you, don’t join the fight.”

  “I’ve already been practicing that.”

  “I’m sure you have. And you could compliment him if the opportunity arises, merely to disconcert him, but as it happens, women aren’t the only ones who like to be told how nice they look. Oh, and end your encounter before he does, just walk away from him without looking back. If he wants you, that will leave him wanting you more.”

  “That’s the problem, he doesn’t want me.”

  “Yet. But don’t leave if it will make him think you’re angry or shocked by him. That will just make him assume he’s won the ‘you can’t have me’ game.”

  “Is it a game to him?”

  “Probably not. As I said, by all accounts, he’s too jaded.”

  “Are you?”

  He grinned. “Not in the least.”

  “Do you know why he is?”

  “Not exactly, but it would be my guess that over a decade of debauchery has something to do with it.”

  She frowned thoughtfully. “But that can’t be the only reason why he steadfastly refuses to marry when he is his father’s only legitimate heir.”

  “If there is a deeper reason you will need to ask him, but I wouldn’t advise doing so when it could backfire and incite his rage—and I really don’t think you want to deal with an enraged Rathban.”

  She had to agree because her family had been sundered by an enraged Rathban. But Monty added, “There is actually another factor that might account for his confirmed bachelorhood, one similar to my own.”

  “Oh?”

  “An abundance of heirs, well, at least in my case. My siblings have already given my parents a number of grandchildren, giving me the perfect excuse to steer clear of a wife.”

  Lucky you, she almost said sarcastically, but the last thing she wanted to do was show disappointment in regard to his own confirmed state of bachelorhood. So she merely rejoined, “But Daniel doesn’t have siblings, does he?”

  “Not that I know of, but he has first cousins, the children of his uncle John Rathban, two of them male, one already married with children.”

  “Yes, I met them at the Rathban ball.”

  “For pride’s sake, Lord Albert undoubtedly still wants his own son to be his heir, but the word around town is that after his brother’s death, he became a second father to his nephews, so he most certainly does have other options.”

  “Well, that’s interesting. So I am not really Albert’s last resort.”

  Monty laughed. “You could never be a last resort, sweetheart.”

  He did it again. She was sure he didn’t even mean to do it, the flattering words just tumbled out of his mouth.

  And he continued, “Now for the lessons that require privacy . . .”

  Chapter Forty

  AS MONTY TOOK VANESSA’S hand and pulled her to her feet, the palm of his other hand landed perfectly on her right breast. He even squeezed slightly to let her know his touch was no accident. She tried desperately to ignore the sudden flutters in her belly. She ignored the racing of her pulse and the delightful scent of him, which she couldn’t help but notice now that he was so close to her. Somehow, she managed to just raise a brow at him.

  He burst out laughing. “Well, I didn’t expect you to already be immune to this brash sort of fondling. This is a demonstration of what Daniel might do in his effort to scare you away. And I don’t mean in the course of an embrace, when a caress of this kind would be natural, but for no apparent reason.”

  “I’m not in the least immune—to your touch.”

  He drew in his breath. “Please imagine I am Daniel for this lesson.”

  She could never do that. There was utterly no comparison between the two men. But she could see she’d disconcerted him again, so she said, “Sorry, I thought a little levity might be in order.”

  “So you were joking?”

  She ignored the question and just said, “Do continue the lesson.”

  He nodded. “If he touches you like that or even more intimately—”

  She cut in. “Are you going to demonstrate what could be more intimate than his putting his hand on my breast?”

  He removed his hand, but he did so very slowly, as if he didn’t really want to. “No. You will certainly know if it happens. The point I am making is that no matter where he touches you, don’t look shocked, angry, or otherwise insulted. You want to intrigue him instead by responding in a way he doesn’t expect.”

  “Like I did with you?”

  He shook his head. “Raising a brow at him could have an adverse effect, even mortify him, resulting in his walking away and your not getting another chance to belittle him.”

  “That’s too bad.” She grinned. “He could use a little mortifying.”

  “Not if you still want him to join you at the altar,” he warned.

  She sighed. “Then intrigue him how?”

  “You could lean in and whisper something in his ear, e
ven if it’s only a light scold for his effrontery.”

  She leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear, “I want you.”

  He took a step back from her. “No, no, no, no.”

  She laughed. “One was enough.”

  “Nessi, are you going to take this seriously or not?”

  She managed not to sigh again. “Certainly.”

  “Then remember, you want to conduct yourself with a degree of sophistication in that you can imply, just never deliver. That is paramount. Delivering will end the game for him. He will have his momentary satisfaction and go back to being bored with you.”

  She was disappointed. “Does that apply to every man?”

  “Gads, no, only someone as jaded as Rathban. I, for one, don’t think I could ever have enough of you.”

  He did it again! And he didn’t even notice what those words did to her, he went right on with his lesson, saying, “Keep in mind that if he does resort to crudeness, it could well be his defense, an effort to shock you into retreating from your pursuit of him. So you will want to ascertain whether it is a defense or an actual overture, albeit a clumsy one, before you respond.”

  “How can I tell the difference?”

  “You could try kissing him at that point.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “If he’s to be your husband, you may want to get used to it.”

  “Shall we practice kissing then?”

  She wasn’t really teasing, and he didn’t react with annoyance this time. With one step he gathered her in his arms and was kissing her. If this was just practice, she would clobber him. But she felt as if she were in the meadow again, this was hot passion springing up wildly between them.

  “I thought I could manage this, but I want you too much,” he said against her lips. “Tell me to leave.”

  “This is your room.”

  “Then get out.”

  But he didn’t stop kissing her! She felt like laughing, but she wanted to kiss him more so she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He wouldn’t be able to stop what he was doing even if he tried, but he didn’t. He put a hand at the back of each of her thighs and lifted her legs off the floor, placing them around his hips. So she wrapped those tightly around him, too, and he carried her to his bed. It wasn’t far.

  On the bed, with him! The fluttering inside her went a little crazy as he settled himself mostly on top of her because his position assured her that this wasn’t part of any lesson, this was him giving in to his desire for her and her feeling thrilled that he was.

  She groaned as his lips moved across her cheek, then the side of her neck, his warm breath near her ears tantalizing her not once, but several times. And when he finished kissing one side of her face and neck, he moved to the other. But his mouth kept coming back to hers. And he must have been lifting her skirt so slowly that she didn’t notice until his hand brushed over her mound, paused, and came back to it.

  “Good God, sweetheart, do you always flit about without your drawers?”

  She chuckled at his surprise. “No, of course not, but I donned my nightgown so I would look prepared for bed in case my sisters paid a late-night visit. When I was certain everyone else was abed, I dressed rather quickly and snuck over to your room.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for an explanation. I’m always going to imagine you without them now, no matter what you’re wearing.”

  “No you won’t, that’s just silly.”

  “Men can be silly—especially when they’re thinking about women.”

  “If you imagine I’m not wearing any, I promise I’ll imagine the same about you.”

  He groaned and kissed her deeply again. She plucked at the back of his shirt to get it out of his trousers. He wouldn’t pause long enough to help. It was utterly frustrating because she so wanted to touch his bare skin but didn’t actually want to stop kissing him, either. Time seemed crucial, fleeting, and yet, good God, she wanted this night to last forever.

  And then he rolled over on his back, taking her with him, lifting her on top of him. Now she had access! She settled herself on his hips and sat up to pull the rest of his shirt loose, then quickly unbuttoned it and ran her hands slowly up his chest.

  She grinned when she saw him avidly watching her. “Your shirt was a nuisance.”

  “Was it? So is this,” he said, and pulled her dress up and over her head. Then he groaned once again. “No chemise, either?!”

  “I told you I was rushed in the matter of dressing,” she said, and leaned down to embrace him, pressing her bare skin against his. “Ohh,” she sighed blissfully against his lips. “Much better kissing this way, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re going to be the death of me—and we’ve gone too far in these lessons.”

  “The lesson ended a while ago,” she said, kissing his neck, then nibbling on his ear. “I wasn’t teasing earlier.” And then in the softest voice, “I do want you.”

  He rolled over again, this time so fast she couldn’t help laughing. And she didn’t need to mention his pants. He rolled to the side and disposed of them so quickly, she barely got to watch. But then he was back, covering her with his long body, and she savored every inch of him.

  “I must have died. This can only be heaven.”

  He was kissing her again, slowly, exquisitely. If he thought to take his time again, she’d be the one dying. “Is it always so frustrating?”

  “That’s anticipation.”

  “No, it’s bloody well frustration.”

  “Does this help?”

  This was him entering her, not far, just the tip. “Yes! No-o!”

  “Now?”

  He’d buried himself deeper. The pressure was so brief and painless, she was surprised enough to ask, “Why didn’t that hurt?”

  He grinned. “I think your ah—frustration—took care of that. You were eager to ‘break.’ ”

  She lifted her hips to test his theory. What she felt was sublime, exquisite, a tremor starting, growing, teasing deep inside her. “Don’t move,” she gasped.

  “Have I hurt you?”

  “No! It just feels so, so—oh!”

  She held on so tightly she might have choked him, but she couldn’t help it. The pleasure that peaked and burst so unexpectedly was beyond words, beyond anything she could have imagined. And he must have known she wouldn’t mind if he started moving again, because when he did, thrusting deeply inside her, that amazing feeling stayed with her, prolonging the ecstasy.

  She caressed him so gently when he lay heavily on top of her. For this one night Montgomery Townsend was hers and she felt very possessive. She didn’t want him to move, to speak, to do anything except breathe heavily by her ear. She’d worn him out? It certainly seemed so, until he raised his head and she saw him grinning at her.

  “Who warned you it was going to hurt? You spent your formative years away from your mother.”

  “Actually, my mother was the culprit. She was eager to get that particular conversation over with. I think I was only eleven, the twins only ten, when she sat us down to explain the most gruesome aspects of a wedding night.”

  “Gruesome?”

  She laughed. “At that age, we found any mention of blood gruesome. I recall Layla even cried at the thought of it. Why do you think Kathleen lied to us about it?”

  “She didn’t, sweetheart. There usually is a degree of pain the first time, or so I’ve been told.”

  “So you’re special?”

  “No, you are. But believe me, I had no idea that your own—eagerness—could assuage it. You are, after all, my first virgin.”

  Her eyes widened. “Am I really?”

  “Yes, and now you have to marry me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t ask.”

  “That wasn’t a question, it was an absurd statement. But I must say you are a superb teacher.”

  He caressed her cheek. “As you so brazenly pointed out, that wasn’t a
lesson.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  VANESSA COULDN’T BRING HERSELF to abandon Monty and the delightful way they were cuddling each other. And every time she sat up, Monty tugged her back down, so he seemed as reluctant to part as she was.

  She truly didn’t want this wonderful night to end. But the moment she started feeling drowsy she hurried back to her room. She might not have the least regret about getting carried away by passion, but she wouldn’t foolishly allow herself to be caught in his room come morning.

  Their parting kiss was bittersweet. At least it was for her, because now that she’d learned Monty’s lessons, she didn’t dare dally with him like this again. She had a Rathban to marry.

  Of course she overslept to an appallingly late hour. She barely made it downstairs in time to join the family for lunch. Kathleen raised a brow at her the moment she entered the room, but she didn’t offer an excuse for her tardiness. But Emily pressed her for one.

  So she shrugged. “I kept thinking about my fiancé, which kept me awake half the night.”

  “Because he showed so much interest in me?” Emily said with a coy smile.

  What a little cat! Vanessa thought. And she couldn’t even tell if Emily was serious or just trying to get even after their fight yesterday. Daniel had left the ball last night directly after returning Emily to Kathleen. He may have thought his mother couldn’t complain after he’d danced with all three Blackburn sisters. But Vanessa had been disappointed that she hadn’t gotten a second go at him.

  “We had a little spat,” she told Emily. “I assumed he danced with you merely to make me jealous, but if not, do feel free to add him to your list, since you apparently want every bloody man in London on it.”

  Emily’s cheeks turned red, even more so when Kathleen exclaimed, “Good God, I am appalled by such bickering! You three will not leave this room until you patch up whatever has turned you into vixens. I expect you to be on your best behavior at the dinner party I’m giving tomorrow night. The Rathbans and the Harris family are coming among others—yes, I know you favor the Harris boy, Layla,” she added when Layla smiled, but she was still angry enough to add, “This bickering will not be in attendance.”