Only Seduction Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  “Thank you, my lady. I would very much enjoy your company this morning.”

  Her cheeks flushed, bringing enchanting color to her face. She turned her mount around sharply to hide it.

  Charming.

  Jack grinned and urged his horse after her. The morning was looking up.

  Chapter 12

  Over dinner that evening, Alethea and Jack talked nothing but horses, a subject they agreed was fascinating, though they were scarcely in accord on it.

  “How can you sit there with a smile on your face and expound the virtues of these small, unexceptional work horses you call “quarter” horses in Virginia when the best horse alive is the Irish Draught?” Alethea leaned across the table, poking a finger into her husband’s chest. “There is no better horse for riding or hunting.”

  “But there is for racing, my dear.” He grinned at her and tossed back the rest of the sweet dessert wine.

  “Even in racing I doubt a descendant of Spanish horses could touch the Irish. A chance, perhaps, but only that.” She lifted a forkful of fluffy trifle and closed her eyes in bliss. The thick, creamy custard was just as superb as it had been last summer. The cook here certainly knew her business. Why the Braetons didn’t demand her presence in London, Alethea had no idea.

  “Oh, the Irish is a beautiful breed of horses, I’ll not deny that.” Jack leaned back in his chair, watching her with a bold eye. “Grace, beauty, spirit like none other.” His gaze rested on her face before continuing down her figure.

  Alethea’s mouth dried instantly, despite the moist cake she’d just swallowed. His look sent a shiver of anticipation all through her. Asking Jack to accompany her this morning had been the wisest thing she could have done. “I am glad you can appreciate that, my lord.”

  “I appreciate a great many things, my dear. And you were to call me Jack, were you not?” The deepened voice, with a touch of censure, sent goose flesh prickling along her arms.

  “Yes, Jack.”

  Their gazes held for a long minute, until she swayed in her chair ready to fall into the fathomless pools of blue. Oh, she couldn’t allow herself to hope for too much too soon. The pain of his rejection would devastate her this time. She forced herself to sit back in the chair, nonchalantly. “I wanted to thank you for insisting I stay in the master solar, as Braeton calls it. It is much the larger chamber.”

  A smile quirked up one side of his mouth as he poured more wine. “Anything for my lady’s comfort.”

  A pleasant warmth started in her stomach and radiated outward until her cheeks must be red as flames. She twirled her wineglass, uncertain how to play the game. Was he playing with her, or had he developed some affection for her over the past few days? Pray it be the latter, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to be too flirtatious in return. After her escape this morning, best she act more docile. Thank God all had turned out well. Still, she could smooth some ruffled feathers with concern for him. “I wanted to ask how you were faring in the smaller room. That is the chamber I slept in last summer, but the weather was much different then. Are you comfortable? It is not too cold or drafty, is it?”

  “Thank you for asking.” His smile broadened. “I am as comfortable as a soft bed and warm blankets can make me.” He chuckled. “Thompson is aflutter because he says the room next door is not large enough to house all my clothes.”

  “Yes.” She giggled, reveling in the shared moment. “I expect the Keep was built with fortification rather than fashion in mind.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice the extraordinary number of tapestries still lining the walls. Some of them are quite old. The one of Adam and Eve in my chamber seems ancient.”

  “That one is quite old.” Alethea nodded and leaned toward him. The story of that tapestry had touched her. “Braeton told me it dates to the mid-1300s when I asked him last summer. The fabric itself is a bit worn, but the faces are arresting. The story that is handed down, Braeton swears, is that the likeness is of an ancestor of his, Thomas Knowlton, the Earl of Braeton during that period, and his first wife.” She smiled, remembering the vivid, happy faces. “They certainly seemed happy in their Garden of Eden. For a short while at least. As the tale goes, they were not married very long before she died. Thomas eventually married again. I always hoped he found as much happiness with his second wife.”

  “I see no reason why he would not. As long as he loved the lady.” Jack sighed and sat back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his countenance.

  Cursing herself, Alethea drew back as well. Enough of that for now. She wouldn’t want to turn the pleasant day sour. Recalling another story about Braeton’s ancestor, however, she might be able to enlist the ancient knight’s aid in her quest for happiness.

  Next afternoon, Alethea stood in the entry hall, putting her cloak on, fiddling with the buttons, pulling on her gloves for an extraordinary amount of time, waiting for Jack to discover her going out. He hadn’t appeared at breakfast, though she had eaten rather early. Hungry all the time, in fact, due to the growing child.

  Neither had her husband been at lunch. Resisting the urge to go in search of him, she’d instead positioned herself near the front door, lying in wait for him to propose he accompany her into the famous sunlit gardens of the Keep.

  In summer, the spectacular roses drew admirers from near and far. Braeton allowed visitors to tour the grounds when his family was not in residence and the Keep had developed quite a reputation amongst flower enthusiasts. Now, of course, the prized rose bushes were little more than dead sticks. Other, hardier blooms showed themselves in January and February. And no matter the time of year, a rose garden was a romantic spot. And she had a romantic tale to tell her husband, if he would ever put in an appearance. To search him out would be much less artful than for him to discover her in the process of preparing to take a walk. And she could ask him immediately if he would like to accompany her.

  “There you are, my dear.”

  The sudden voice behind her made Alethea jump and peer up the stairs.

  On his way down, splendidly attired in a suit of pale gray with a ruffle of lace at neck and cuffs, Jack took her breath away. Elegance in every line of him, he knew how to wear his clothing so it didn’t attract attention to the clothes themselves, but to him instead. She’d watched women at balls follow him with their gaze. Just as she was doing now.

  “Yes, here I am.” She smiled invitingly at him, setting the scene. “I was disappointed to miss you at breakfast.”

  “And I you, madame. I declare I cannot see how we will find one another when we return to the townhouse in London. It is much larger than the Keep and I simply can’t keep up with you here.”

  If he kept her in his bed, he’d know exactly where to find her every night and every morning. Alethea smiled at the thought and walked toward him, swaying her hips slightly to capture his attention.

  She needn’t have worried. He didn’t take his eyes off her. “I would have missed you again had you not come down this instant. I was about to sally forth into the rose garden for a stroll.”

  “What will you find in the gardens in January, my dear?” Continuing down the staircase, he smiled indulgently. “Surely there are no roses that can brave the snow and cold?”

  Adjusting her cloak for the final time, she flashed him a smile. “No, there are no roses blooming this time of year. However, there are several hardy plants that give the gardens a spot of color. The cyclamens are one, the winter iris another.”

  “I never knew there were cold weather flowers. How wonderful. May I accompany you?”

  Oh, sweet music to her ears. “I would love to have your company, Jack.” Careful not to overplay her role, Alethea acted dispassionate about his acceptance, all the while jumping up and down like a giddy fool inside. Praise be, he wanted her company once more.

  With a staid gait that belied the happiness inside her, Alethea led h
im out to the sunny garden. They strolled down a slightly muddy path, Alethea breathing in quick, white puffs that showed in the frigid air. “I wish you could see the roses in summer. They are exquisite. Every color and fragrance, and the scents linger on a warm night.”

  “I expect it is a riot of color and bloom. We had a very small rose garden back in Virginia. My mother was fond of them, according to my father.” Jack gazed about at the dead-seeming sticks. “It’s so difficult to imagine these will bloom once more. They look utterly dead.”

  “I had a similar thought the first time I saw a pruned garden in Ireland.” She took a firmer grasp of his arm, relishing their closeness. “Braeton told me that the extent of the garden was due to that ancestor of his, Thomas. Or rather to his mother.”

  “Indeed?” Jack’s tone held more than a hint of interest. “She started this garden?”

  Alethea nodded and stepped a bit closer to him. “So I am told.” He seemed interested in the story, and the longer she kept him out here and with her, the greater the chances that they would find shared interests. “Thomas’s mother—I don’t know her name—loved roses and spent her life gathering all manner of them she could, collecting them here in this garden.” Alethea led him down a different path. “This one here.” She indicated a bush without leaves, but covered in small, red berries. “This is the oldest rose Braeton was able to trace back to the ancestor’s mother. An Eglantine, also called Sweet Briar Rose. The bright red rose hips remain until the spring when they bloom.” She reached out and touched the oblong berries, so pretty, even without the flowers.

  “You sound as if you are passionate about roses, my dear. Shall we set you up with a garden of your own in the spring?” Her husband smiled, an eagerness in his eyes that melted her heart. Here was the kindness she craved. This was the man she had fallen in love with those many months ago. The prize was within her grasp, if only she could persuade him to feel the same.

  “I’m afraid I’ve not got a hand for gardening myself, although I do love to walk among the blooms.” She smiled ruefully. “But I did find Braeton’s story about his ancestor touched my heart.”

  “The story about the tapestry?”

  “No, another one, but about the same ancestor.”

  “Another tale?” Tucking her hand snugly back into the crook of his arm, he started them back toward the house.

  “Yes. The ancestor, Thomas, was a knight at King Edward III’s court. His best friend, also a knight, was betrothed to a very beautiful lady in waiting from France. The king, however, insisted the friend marry a woman of royal blood instead, so the friend begged Thomas to marry his true love in his place. It seemed the lady might be with child and rather than have any shame come to her, Thomas agreed to marry her. She became his second wife.” Alethea gazed into Jack’s eyes, her fingers suddenly icy on his arm.

  “I can see how that story might claim your interest, my dear.” Jack’s lips had firmed into a straight line. Had she pushed too hard?

  “Yours as well, my lord.” She wrested her gaze from him and set out for the house at a brisker pace. “You are very like that knight, Jack. Coming to my aid at a mere request. Without even a bond of friendship between us.” Her heart kept pace with her, racing away. “It was the noblest thing I have ever heard of in my life. For that I can never repay you.”

  “Alethea, I sought no payment for marrying you.” He tried to turn away, but she held on to him.

  “I know you did not, Jack. That makes you the only completely selfless man I have ever known. That does not mean you do not deserve thanks. Because of your service to me, your life has been disrupted, changed forever. You could have married any woman of your choosing, beautiful, accomplished, intelligent. Instead you chose a woman with none of those—”

  “Why would you not put yourself into that group of marriageable ladies?” A sudden deep scowl marred his brow, making her stop and draw back.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “You are a beautiful woman, Alethea. And accomplished and intelligent and witty. You must know that. Why the other gentlemen of the ton have not discovered that is beyond mystery.” Giving her arm a shake, he continued leading them back to the house.

  She tingled all over with his unexpected compliment to her. “Thank you, Jack. I…I don’t…” Words failed at the very worst time.

  “Let us return before you catch cold.” Clamping her arm against him, like settling her against a small furnace, he stepped up their pace toward the house.

  Almost running to keep up with him, Alethea took heart and sent up a silent prayer. Perhaps her husband was warming to her. Held her in some affection, even? With luck, another week at the Keep might persuade Jack they were ready to begin their marriage fully and anew.

  Chapter 13

  The day after their walk in the garden found Alethea in the library before a good fire when the butler entered with a silver salver.

  “The post, my lady.” Hargrove, the Keep’s butler, held out the tray with a single letter on it.

  “Thank you, Hargrove.” Alethea took the cream paper, sealed with red wax stamped with a signet unfamiliar to her. “Do you know where Lord Manning is?”

  “I believe he is in the great hall, my lady.”

  Alethea cocked her head. “Whatever is he doing there?”

  “Fencing, my lady.”

  “What?” A shiver of dread shot down her spine as she rose from her comfortable chair. The book in her lap, Robinson Crusoe, thudded to the floor. Ignoring the volume that had surprisingly captivated her for well over an hour, Alethea grasped the letter and marched out of the library, intent on finding her husband.

  When she rounded the corner into the echoing great room, she stopped dead and gazed at Jack, his back to her as he wielded his sword viciously at the thin air in front of him. Time ceased to move as she drank in the sight of her husband, clad only in a shirt and breeches, lunging toward an imaginary opponent. Every part of him, back to buttocks, rippled with effort each time he extended his arm and lunged in the mock battle. His leg muscles, on display in just stockings, bunched and strained at the effort as he lunged and retreated. The raw animal strength of him almost took her breath away. Oh, to hold that body against hers, to feel the whipcord strength with her own hands. The thought made her heat from top to toe. Certainly, it would be soon when she could hold him to her, have him hold her in those steely arms…

  Lunging with a cry of victory, Jack thrust the button-tipped foil against the wall, touched it briefly, then stood smiling and wiped the thin sheen of sweat on his sleeve. He wagged his blade back and forth, then turned, and halted as soon as he saw her standing behind him. “I didn’t hear you, my dear.” He smiled roguishly, again mopping his brow with his sleeve. His breath came in sharp puffs. He’d obviously been at it for some time. “Is luncheon ready?”

  Alethea had to force herself to speak. The sight of him so disheveled, the masculine scent of sweat rising off him, acted like a fine whiskey to her senses. “Not quite yet, I think. I came to give you the post.” Not taking her eyes off his glorious form, she held the letter out to him. “I thought it might be urgent.”

  Smiling absently, Jack handed the sword and his gloves to a footman, and took the letter. Without comment he broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

  “Why were you fencing alone?” She’d been so entranced with watching his sleek form that only now did she mark he sparred solo.

  “Hmmm?” He looked up, distracted from his letter. “Oh, I usually go to Angelo’s when I’m in Town, but as I have no partner here, I’ve been practicing on my own.”

  “Practicing for what?” Dread filled her. Did he still cherish hopes of dueling for her honor?

  “I enjoy it, my dear.” His eyes twinkled at her. “I used to spar with my sister when we were in Virginia if I couldn’t find anyone else. It keeps my wits quick and the body alert.”

&nb
sp; She’d agree wholeheartedly about his body. It had all her senses on edge. “It certainly has kept you fit.”

  “Another benefit, I agree.” He waved the letter toward her. “You will be pleased to know we are invited to Lord Selham’s for dinner tomorrow tonight. Have you already made their acquaintance? I met Selham last summer as he belongs to my club. Braeton told me he’d write him that we were staying at the Keep.”

  “I believe I was introduced to her ladyship during the Season as well. They were not here last summer, though.” She’d met so many people during the almost eleven months she’d been in England. Few of them had made a lasting impression save her friend, Miss Carlton. Still, she would enjoy renewing her acquaintance with Lady Selham. “It will be nice to meet her again.”

  “Excellent.” Jack beamed as though she’d agreed to follow him to the Dark Continent rather than several miles further into Sussex. “We should leave at five as it is a longish drive to Selham Castle.”

  “I promise to be prompt, my lord.” Casting a lingering glance at the masculine form that made her mouth water, Alethea sighed. She’d tried to be patient, to allow her husband to get to know her better. However, she’d needed no such time. She craved every minute possible with him now and could scarcely wait for his signal that he was ready to be more intimate with her.

  Unfortunately, his look at this moment spoke of impatience to return to his blade without her presence.

  With a sigh and a fleeting smile, she turned toward the door. Be compliant with his wishes and surely she would receive her reward soon.

  * * * *

  Drink in hand, Jack laughed with his host and the other gentlemen who had made up the small dinner party. Lord Selham had set a gracious table and now poured a fine French brandy for his son, son-in-law, and Jack. The jovial lord had been a good friend at his club in London. Quite fortunate they lived so close to the Keep.