“He isn’t,” she insisted, her plan working perfectly. “He must feel that way if he keeps his distance.”
She moved closer, his hand brushing the junction of her thighs.
He felt the wisps of hair, felt her heat and his arousal soared.
“Max,” she whispered, her lips moving over his.
He moved to claim her mouth, but she pulled away.
“Max,” she repeated with an achy need.
He reached out, his hand slipping around her neck, wanting to hear that she needed him as much as he needed her. “What do you want from me, Belinda?”
She licked her lips slowly and with a hint of a smile said, “Teach me to seduce my husband.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maximillian bolted off the bed, repeating her unbelievable request. “Teach you to seduce your husband?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly, holding her hand out to him. “You could teach me exactly what to do to him to make him want me.”
He glared at her. “You mean this?”
She folded her hands in her lap and released an exasperated sigh. “Of course I do. What other option do I have? I cannot allow my marriage to continue on in this fashion. It isn’t proper. And you—” She paused, sending him a smile that dripped with sensuality. “You have the knowledge that I require. Teach me,” she requested again and extended her hand to him.
Maximillian stared at her. She wanted him to teach her to seduce him. This whole matter was becoming exceedingly awkward, but then again . . .
He gave her offer serious consideration. After all she could only succeed in seducing John if he allowed her to. He was in control here. He could handle this small dilemma easily and benefit from it. He would have the pleasure of tutoring her in the ways of seduction. But what would happen when she discovered the truth? How would she react?
By then they would be so deeply involved, he reasoned, that nothing else would matter, only their love. But who did she love more? Maximillian or John?
That was an answer he intended to discover.
He summoned her with the snap of his hand. “Come here, Billie.”
Billie eyed him skeptically.
He turned a grin on her that melted her insides and resolve simultaneously. She shivered from the gooseflesh that prickled every inch of her sensitive flesh and gave serious thought to her next move.
“Do you want me to teach you?” His voice dared.
She nodded against her better judgment, praying that she would be able to control the already raging desire racing through her and focus on her plan.
“Then come to me and let me show you how to tempt a man until he can think of nothing else except making love to you.”
Billie took a deep, fortifying breath and slipped off the bed slowly, standing completely still for a moment as if indecisive and then, with trembling legs, she walked toward him.
His hand circled her neck and he leaned down to steal a brief but conquering kiss. “You will do as I direct,” he said, his hands cupping her neck and his lips a mere inch from hers.
He would forever be a lord, she thought, always expecting immediate obedience and compliance. She nodded her consent.
“Undress me,” he ordered, taking a short step back from her.
This was going to be a little more difficult than she had thought. “I beg your pardon?”
He reached for her hand, pressing it against his shirt.
“Part of the pleasure of seduction is undressing your partner, slowly and teasingly. Inch by inch. Stripping away layer after layer of protection and leaving each one vulnerable to passion.”
Billie tingled with the suggestive picture his words painted.
“Now take my shirt off.”
Hesitantly, her shaking hands reached up to unfasten his shirt.
His hand moved over hers, halting her inadequate progress.
She glanced up at him.
He stared down at her. “Go slowly, there’s much pleasure in anticipation and . . . what waits beneath. You do want to feel my hard flesh, don’t you, Billie?”
She nodded without reluctance.
“Slowly,” he repeated. “Let your fingers brush my flesh, tempt me, tease me and you, as you spread my shirt and slip it off.”
His words mesmerized and fanned her desire.
She did as he directed. Her fingers ran playfully over his buttons, twisting and twirling them apart. And as each one opened she teased his warm flesh with the tips of her fingers.
“Spread my shirt apart,” he said with tremendous effort, as if attempting to catch his breath.
She gave no thought to his obvious reaction to her touch; she was too intent on how much pleasure she derived from undressing him.
Her fingers slipped beneath the linen shirt, running over his hard, muscled flesh, feeling his nipples pucker as she brushed over them.
His sharp intake of breath made her realize just how much he was succumbing to her inexperienced yet determined hands. She trailed her fingers down to his breeches where his shirt ends were tucked inside and she slowly but sharply tugged the material free. Her fingers crawled inch by inch up his naked chest to slip his shirt off his shoulders while she settled her lips against his bare, hot flesh and tasted.
His shirt fell to the floor and her hands continued to explore along with her tongue, licking, nipping and kissing every inch of muscle.
Maximillian attempted to control the rage of desire that shot through him. But it soared out of control and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to grab her, toss her on the bed and bury himself inside her.
Whisper soft and with her fingers inching down his breeches, she asked, “Shall I remove the rest?”
His arousal swelled even stronger against her hand and his hand shot out, instantly covering hers.
“If you do that, Billie, I won’t be responsible for what follows.”
The dampness between her legs warned her that she was as passionately aroused as he and if she chose to continue, her lesson would surely culminate with their making love.
With a strength she didn’t think she possessed, but a determination to see her plan succeed, she stepped away from him. “This one lesson shall do me well. When John returns this evening I will assist in undressing him.”
Max took several deep, calming breaths and when he was finally able to speak, his voice held a tremor. “He may not react as you wish at first.”
“But you—”
He interrupted sharply. “You and I strike passion in each other.”
She walked away from him, fearing if she stayed near, if she inhaled the scent of the passion that drifted like a sensual spice around them she would beg him to strip her and make love to her.
“It is a beginning. I will try.”
Max grabbed his shirt off the floor. “Do not be disappointed if you fail.”
She shot him a challenging look. “You think me incapable of stirring passion in my husband?”
“He is a pious man with a strong will.”
She almost laughed at the word pious, but instead she smiled. “And I am a passionate and patient woman. I will tempt him slowly and thoroughly until his arousal is as potent as yours.”
Max wore a winning grin, knowing full well he would deny her. “Don’t be so sure.”
“If I have no success with lesson one, surely lesson two will benefit me,” she said and added as if daring him. “Meet me in your study tomorrow afternoon. John will be at the vicarage and we can continue our lessons.”
“Each lesson will eventually have a price that you may not be willing to pay.”
“What price?”
“We’ll make love and not the soft, slow kind, but the hot, passionate, untamed type that robs you of your very soul. Are you willing to pay that price?”
She closed her eyes feeling breathless and her voice trembled. “With my husband, yes.”
He didn’t answer and when she opened her eyes he was gone. But he would soon re
turn as John and she would be ready and so would he, she had made certain of that.
o0o
Billie didn’t have long to wait. Within the hour Max returned as John. She waited in bed as she had for Maximillian.
“You needn’t have stayed up,” John said, sitting in the chair near the hearth that burned with a low flame and kept a chill from the room.
She left the bed to wander over to him, her bare feet treading lightly and cautiously across the dark carpet. “I wasn’t sleepy. A difficult evening?”
“More than you know,” he mumbled.
Billie heard him and smiled. “Let me help you off with your coat.”
He didn’t object, sitting forward while she eased his arms out and then folded the gray garment to rest over the top of a nearby chair.
She walked around to stand in front of him, certain the fire’s warm light accented her body beneath the silk gown. She reached down and slipped his glasses off, placing them carefully next to the chair.
“You look so tired,” she said with genuine concern and leaned forward to rub his temples, her breasts resting only inches from his lips.
He shut his eyes against the lusty temptation and recited a silent prayer, thinking that he certainly embodied John’s pious character at the moment.
Billie settled herself on his lap, bringing his eyes to full alert as she purposely wiggled her way to nest comfortably against him. She smiled at his raised brows and whispered, “Poor baby.” And continued to rub his head.
She allowed herself the time to fully study him, having berated herself for not noticing the similarities sooner. She grudgingly admitted that his makeup was applied with a skillful hand, but then she assumed he had been taught by a professional.
He had lightened his skin to appear pale and his eyebrows were made to look fuller, more overgrown. The mole on his chin was placed to distract the eye and his nose appeared broader than Max’s. His hair was drawn tightly away from his face and looked tinged with a dye that muted his usually shiny black hair.
His glasses had been the perfect finishing piece, another distraction, especially since he had fussed with them constantly.
And then there was his body.
“Better?” she asked and lowered her hand to rest on his shoulder. She felt no padding; he was obviously prepared for her.
“Much,” he said, squinting his eyes as if he had trouble seeing her without his glasses.
She ignored his ruse and proceeded to toy with his shirt buttons. “Tell me about your night.”
“There is nothing to tell,” he said, his tone controlled and measured.
Much too controlled to Billie’s way of thinking. She purposely, yet with wide-eyed innocence, squirmed in his lap, pressing her bottom invitingly against him.
His groan was barely audible but Billie caught it.
“Did you not help someone?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder while her finger remained at teasing odds with his buttons.
“Yes, I did help someone,” he answered and to her surprise brought his hand to rest on her backside. I provided a young woman with necessary guidance.”
Billie bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. And decided she had tarried long enough. She opened several of his buttons and slipped her hand inside against his warm skin.
“What guidance?” she asked, running her finger around his nipple and feeling it rapidly respond.
He took a deep breath. “On how to be a proper wife.” His hand moved down slowly over her backside, giving her firm cheek a gentle squeeze.
“She doesn’t know how?” She followed her question with a soft lick and a kiss to his chest.
“She assumes too much and does not obey her husband as is her duty,” he warned, much too forcefully.
“And you helped her to see the error of her ways?” Billie tasted her husband once again, discovering that she quite enjoyed playing the temptress.
“I hope I did,” he said softly.
She tasted his hard nipple and found it much to her liking. Her mouth closed over it.
“Billie.”
He called her name with such a soft power that her head shot up.
“You are a wicked woman,” he said before grabbing the back of her head and claiming her mouth roughly.
Shocked by his passionate assault it took her a moment to comprehend that she had actually caused her husband to lose his self-control and the victory suddenly tasted mighty sweet.
She moved her arms around his neck and feasted on him as demandingly as he did on her. She pressed her breasts to his chest and reveled in his hand squeezing her backside.
Time stood still as they found pleasure in one another. And Billie gave no thought beyond this moment and this time of magic she shared with her husband.
When she felt him attempt to end their encounter she begged in a whisper, “Make love to me, John. I want to feel you inside me.”
Her words delivered a potent blow. He groaned loudly and swelled beneath her. She knew he wanted her, he couldn’t deny it. There was no way he could refuse to make love to her, no way.
She whispered again. “Please, John, I need you inside me.”
He groaned again like a man who had suffered too long and was about to surrender. Raise the white flag. Give up. Victory was hers.
The loud knock at the bedchamber door startled them both and John stood, lifting her with him.
“Come in,” he said with a stern shout.
Pembrooke entered cautiously, peeking around the door before walking fully into the room. “I’m sorry, sir, but another urgent message from the village.”
Billie glared at the small man so murderously that he retreated several steps to the open door.
“I’ll be right there, Pembrooke,” John said, all traces of passion gone from his voice.
Pembrooke nodded and hastily left the room, closing the door behind him.
John eased her out of his arms to stand while he quickly retrieved his coat.
“You can’t mean to leave me now,” she said, furious that he had purposely arranged for Pembrooke’s interference.
“I must go,” he insisted firmly, bending down to grab his glasses from beneath the chair and slipping them on.
“What about us?” she said, with an angry stamp of her foot.
“Patience, my dear,” he said and rushed out of the room.
Billie ran to the bed, grabbed a pillow and flung it at the door. “Damn you, Max,” she yelled, having caught his grin before he fled the room.
o0o
Maximillian locked himself in his study, poured himself a liberal glass of brandy and took a generous swallow. He shed his coat, glasses, freed his hair from its tight binding and dropped into one of the two chairs that faced the hearth.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered and took another swallow.
“Difficult evening, my son?” Oran walked out of the shadows.
“I don’t know whether to be angry or pleased that I have such a passionate, determined wife.”
“A woman that favors her husband’s attention is a rare find. I’d be pleased.”
“But it’s John’s attention she’s after. The only thing she wants from me is to teach her to seduce him—I mean me.” Max shook his head. “I don’t know what I mean anymore.”
“Why not tell her the truth?” Oran asked, sitting in the chair next to his son.
“Not yet,” he insisted. “I need to make certain of her safety before I announce to all that I’m alive.”
“And how do you think she will respond to this news?” Oran steepled his fingers and relaxed back in the chair waiting for his son’s answer.
Max ran his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I only know that I love her more than I ever thought I could possibly love a woman and I can’t see living my life without her. Perhaps once she understands that and the reason behind my deception, she’ll be able to forgive me.”
“And how long do you think you can continue this decepti
on before she discovers the truth?”
Max threw back another generous swallow of brandy before answering. “After tonight?” He shook his head. “Not long. Not long at all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Maximillian relaxed back in the large chair behind his desk, his two fingers steepled and pressed to his lips and his mind deep in thought. His plan had been so simple and now . . .
Nothing was simple. He had fallen in love with a spirited and intelligent woman who would shortly discover the truth about him. What then? Why had he allowed his plan to escalate to such outrageous proportions?
When the attempts on his life began, he had thought them mere accidents and then, when it became blatantly obvious that someone was out to kill him, he had assumed the reason stemmed more from his female dalliances than the manor. He had not given serious thought to the problem, having been emotionally distraught over his father’s death.
He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. He could clearly recall the day his father’s ghost had first appeared to him. It was only a few days after the funeral. He had been alone in the study as he was now, drowning his sorrow in whiskey when his father had materialized right through the wall.
His father had scolded him for feeling sorry for himself and had ordered him to take care since his life was in danger. With that, his father had disappeared.
He had thought the strange occurrence the results of the liquor, but his father had made several more appearances until Max began to accept his ghostly presence and finally realized his father’s warning rang true.
But who wanted the manor? And why make attempts on his life and why kill Oran? He had not been able to discover any relevant information in the last few months. The Derry Jones lead had proved futile as had the suggestion that someone in St. Clair headed the wreckers. He had uncovered no proof.
Even his charade as the vicar, a villager people trusted and confided in, hadn’t provided him with information into the wreckings along the coast. He felt at a dead end.
And then of course Billie had entered his life and complicated it even more, though he had to admit her type of complication and involvement proved interesting. Not to mention exciting and passionate.
Donna Fletcher Page 25