Only Seduction Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  The carriage rocked gently as the horses sped through the lightening morning. The lulling, swaying rhythm should have soothed Alethea back into slumber, but one glance had told him she did not sleep. She’d been brooding the past three days, and he couldn’t blame her at all. He’d avoided her during the last days at the Keep, riding out all over Sussex during the day until almost time for dinner. The silence in the Keep had been deafening. Certainly, she’d expected some sort of explanation and an apology for his boorish actions. Neither had been forthcoming. Last evening she’d ordered her dinner sent to her room, an action that had twisted his heart and had almost brought forth his confession. Pride had won out in the end, however, and he had done nothing. Somehow, once he’d spoken to Dalbury, on his oath he’d make all this up to her.

  The carriage slowed, pulling Jack from his fretful thoughts. Glancing out the window he noted an inn up ahead. Their first stop to change the horses. About time, too. They’d need to use the necessary as soon as they arrived.

  On the far side of the carriage, Alethea had straightened in her seat at their approach to the inn, her eyes fixed on points outside the carriage.

  “I will need to—”

  “Do you require the—”

  They’d spoken in unison and he flashed her a grin. He was rewarded with a smile, the first hint of a thaw between them.

  “I see we have the same question on our minds, my lady. I assume then you will need to leave the carriage while the horses are changed. To stretch your legs and perhaps acquire a cup of chocolate?” Eager to keep her good will, he continued to talk quickly, fearing she might stop him at any moment. “A bit of breakfast would not come amiss, I think?”

  “That is kind of you, my lord.” Straightening her skirts, she nodded to him, the tension in her seeming to relax.

  The carriage swept into the inn yard and drew to a halt. Jack immediately threw open the door, jumped to the ground, and extended his hand to her.

  Cautiously, Alethea allowed him to assist her to the ground. But before her boots could touch the frozen ground, he impetuously scooped her up into his arms.

  Alethea stifled a shriek into a little squeak, and he laughed. She put her arms around his neck, bringing her close against his body, a sensation he had missed.

  Carrying her easily, Jack strode quickly to the taproom of the Marsh Lily. He deposited her at the counter and called loudly, “Innkeeper!”

  A spry but wizened little man scurried forth from the kitchen beyond. “Good morning, my lord. How may I help you?”

  “A change of horses and a room for an hour, I think.” Jack raised an eyebrow at her.

  She nodded, the dark circles under her eyes now very apparent. A pity they could not tarry here, for the room would have a bed where she could lie down and rest. Perhaps on the next leg of their journey he could persuade her to sleep a bit.

  “If you would bring up some coffee, chocolate, and a bite of breakfast, I would declare you a godsend, Mr.…?”

  “Packland, my lord. Very good.” Packland emerged from behind the bar and led them to a short flight of stairs. “This way, my lord. I’ll have your meal sent up directly.”

  Alethea dragged herself up the stairs, stifling a yawn as the innkeeper showed them into a plain, but serviceable room. Her gaze made straight for the narrow bed, her longing to lie down almost a palpable thing.

  “I’ll get Mary to bring up some washing water with your breakfast.” The innkeeper bowed out.

  “Why don’t you take care of your needs first, my dear? I’ll go make sure the horses are being readied, then I will join you to eat.” He stared at her, torn between compassion for her drooping appearance and their need to reach London. “Best not to lie down as we’ve no time for you to sleep properly. Once we begin again, though, we’ll find you a comfortable position in which to nap.”

  A grateful sigh escaped her. “Thank you, my lord. That sounds wonderful.”

  Flashing her a grin, he left, very grateful to be more at ease with his wife than he had ever been before. Perhaps everything would come right after he consulted Dalbury.

  * * * *

  As the door closed behind Jack, Alethea’s tension drained away. After stripping off her gloves, she took care of her most pressing needs, and emerged from behind the painted screen as Mary arrived with a jug of hot water. Following in her wake were two lads with laden trays of fragrant food: eggs, bacon, kippers, fresh baked bread, a pot of coffee and a steaming cup of hot chocolate.

  Inhaling the delightful yeasty aroma of the bread, Alethea shifted her attention from its preoccupation with sleep to an equal clamor for food. “Thank you, Mary.”

  Once the boys deposited their burdens on the small deal table, and all three servants left, Alethea plopped down at the table, her mouth watering at the sight of such bounty. She hastily laid her napkin in her lap, glancing at the door every few seconds for Jack’s reappearance. Of course, she should wait for him to join her, but the tempting smells made her woozy with hunger. She picked up the cup of chocolate, and rolled the thick, delicious drink over her tongue, its heat exploding in her mouth. She groaned with pleasure. If only she could begin on the main course. She gazed longingly at the food.

  When she feared she could wait no longer and reached for the bread, Jack entered the room, his cheeks ruddy with the cold.

  “You should have started without me, Alethea.” He shrugged out of his cloak, adjusted the fit of his jacket, and hurried to the table.

  “I wanted to wait for you.” Alethea lost no time in loading her fork. Neither could she repress a groan as she shoved a flavorful bite into her mouth.

  With a chuckle, Jack tore a hunk from the loaf of bread and slathered it with fresh butter. “You seem as ravenous as a she-wolf. Next time, you must not deny yourself if I am detained. I wouldn’t wish you discomfited.”

  “Thank you, Jack.” She stuffed a thick slice of bacon into her mouth and chewed with gusto. Never had she tasted anything so good.

  Their gazes met. She hadn’t called him Jack since that infamous carriage ride.

  “I’m responsible for you, Alethea. I want to make sure you are safe and happy.” His dark eyes held hers spellbound, a need deep in them that she suddenly wanted to fill. He’d been so unapproachable the last few days, always gone or if at the Keep locked in his study. She could fathom no reason her actions in the carriage had earned his displeasure. Even an apology hadn’t dispelled whatever he was feeling. He’d been so guarded she couldn’t even tell if he was angry or hurt or something else entirely. Now, however, might he be ready to reconcile?

  Without thought, she glanced from him to the bed and back and raised an eyebrow.

  He lifted his cup of coffee and shook his head, a rueful set to his lips. “We cannot tarry here, my lady.”

  Her whole face went up in flames. Why couldn’t she understand him better?

  “We must finish quickly so we can be on our way. Unless we are very fortunate, we will not reach London before dark. And I must be in Town on the morrow for an appointment.” Slowly, he picked up a piece of bread and bit into it. “However, once we are home, we will have all the time we desire…” His gaze bored into her and she caught her breath. “To continue getting to know one another.”

  The eggs she’d just put in her mouth almost choked her. Her heart pounded in her chest hard enough to rattle the dishes. Uncertain if this was desire or fear, Alethea set down her fork and lifted her chocolate. The sweet, soothing beverage calmed her. She sent surreptitious looks to her husband, trying again to discover his mood.

  Utterly absorbed in his breakfast, Jack busily cut up the slices of bacon and piled eggs atop it on his fork, then wolfed it down. “You’d better eat well now, my dear. Lunch will be many hours away.”

  His matter-of-fact tone took the edge off her anticipation and she resumed eating with due fervor.


  At the meal’s end, Jack escorted her from the room. She cast a last longing glance at the bed.

  “Word of honor, I will make provisions for you to sleep in the carriage, Alethea. Trust me.” They quit the room, Alethea pleasantly full and looking forward to her promised nap.

  They returned to the carriage, Alethea in the forward-facing seat. Jack settled the thick wool blanket around her snugly and she burrowed into its warm folds.

  “This feels so marvelous, Jack.” She sighed, pulling the cover higher around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, my dear. And…ah, here we are.” He turned as the door opened and an inn servant handed him a rectangular package wrapped in red flannel.

  “What is that?” Alethea peered at the strange object as Jack set it on the floor.

  He grasped her feet and placed them on the red flannel.

  Immediately, pleasant warmth shot up through her shoes. She moaned in bliss.

  “A hot brick to keep you warm until the next change.” He grinned that boyish grin. “For now we begin again.” He settled himself beside her on the soft leather seat.

  Alethea closed her eyes, the warmth of the blanket and brick lulling her quickly toward slumber.

  “If I can suggest a spot for your nap.” Jack leaned back against the corner of the seat. “Sit on my lap and lay your head on my chest. I can be quite a soft pillow”—his eyes sparkled with amusement—“and if I put my arms around you, you’ll be anchored against the jostling of the carriage. Your feet can even rest on the brick. The next inn isn’t for three or more hours. With luck, you may not be disturbed at all.”

  Excitement shot through her. The pose he suggested was as intimate as anything he’d offered her since their marriage. His strong, muscular frame, covered in dark brown leather breeches and a form fitting superfine jacket looked inviting, in more ways than one. He opened his arms and all doubts fled. Quickly she lowered herself onto his lap, turned on her side, and lay her head against his chest. Air hissed out of her in a long, slow breath and she relaxed against him.

  “Very good, my dear.” His arm stole around her lightly yet firmly anchoring her.

  “Thank you, Jack,” she whispered, and with the drumbeat of his heart in her ear, oblivion took her.

  * * * *

  The day followed this pattern with each successive stop for change of horses, although after they broke for lunch around one o’clock Alethea did not sleep again that afternoon. They spoke but little, although their silence wasn’t strained as before. A companionable quiet, rather, in which they enjoyed each other’s company without words.

  Late afternoon found them still many miles from London when it began snowing.

  “Damn,” Jack swore softly as the fine flakes created a veil of lace outside the carriage. “This will likely slow us a great deal.” He rapped on the trap, which was immediately jerked open.

  “My lord?” Foster’s question was muffled. Bundled up in his great coat with his scarf wound round his face and his hat pulled down over his head, all she could see of the coachman was his eyes.

  “How much longer to make home?”

  The worried eyes narrowed. “Three hours on a fine day, my lord. With the snow and the failing light, maybe four to the outskirts of the city.”

  “Very well. If we must slow to allow for the weather, do so. We’ll be home later than planned, but better that than to come to mischief on a slick road.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Jack smiled at Alethea, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Dinner will apparently be rather later than expected, my dear.”

  “I am fine, my lord. A little cramped, but I’ll do.” Alethea stretched her legs out as best she could. The brick from the last stop had cooled quickly, and her toes with it.

  “You can stretch out again.” The eagerness in his voice made her smile as he patted his lap.

  “Perhaps in a little while,” she said, and promptly yawned, a wave of fatigue washing over her. As though pulled by an invisible string, she collapsed against him. “Or perhaps a nap now would not be amiss.”

  A soft chuckle floated down from above her and he slid his arms securely around her. Warm. Protective. “Rest, my dear. Soon we will be home.”

  * * * *

  The long-case clock chimed twelve times as Alethea dragged herself through the doorway of the townhouse. Foster’s estimation of three or four hours had not taken into consideration the several overturned vehicles on the last stretch of road outside the city. She and Jack had sat shivering together for hours as the coachmen worked to right first a small carriage, then a large farm wagon, heavily loaded with root vegetables, that had collided on the dark, slippery road. At last the way had been cleared and they arrived in St. James, more than ready for a warm bed.

  Clemons, looking indecently warm as her mistress shivered, had draped Alethea’s nightgown over a chair to heat it before the blessed blazing fire. She stripped the rumpled and stained brown traveling gown from Alethea, then bundled her up and began brushing the knots out of her wildly disarrayed hair.

  At last, the maid dropped the heated gown over her head and Alethea crawled between the warm sheets. She flopped on her stomach, arms and legs splayed, and with a heartfelt prayer of thanks, fell asleep.

  Chapter 15

  Alethea swam out of her exhausted sleep to a furious knocking on her door. Shaking her head to clear away the mist of sleep, she sat up, puzzled by the noise. When she slid to the floor and her feet encountered the cold floorboards, she roused even further. The knocking continued as she stumbled toward the door, not pausing to light a lamp or slip on her robe. Feeling her way to the door, she called, “Who is it?”

  “Jack.”

  Grogginess fled. Straightening up, she swept her hair back over her shoulders, her stomach clenched. He could only be here at this time of night for one reason. Pray God he would be gentle, not rough like last time. She wouldn’t cry out this time, no matter what, and maybe together they could find a way to bring pleasure to each other. Resolute, she depressed the handle and opened the door.

  Her eyes widened as bewilderment overtook her.

  Her husband stood in the doorway, in the light of the candle he held, fully dressed. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She swept the door open, puzzled that he had bothered to change into a new set of clothes just to come to her room. Why didn’t he come in his nightshirt and banyan? Was this the normal way of it? Eithne had said nothing of how a man dressed when he came to his wife’s bed.

  “I hated to disturb you”—he strode into the room—“but didn’t want you to wake in the morning and find me gone.”

  “Gone?” Trembling seized her and she pushed the door shut with such force it boomed throughout the corridor. Thoughts tumbling around her head so fast she couldn’t snare one to speak, she trailed him around the room. Finally, she found her tongue. “Where are you going? What has happened?”

  “Dalbury is downstairs with his carriage. We need to make haste to Wiltshire. Lord Trevor has challenged a man to a duel. Dalbury and I are to stand as his seconds. I should be gone several days only, though with the weather—”

  “A duel?” Fear licked through her and she grabbed Jack’s arm, her fingers digging down into the whipcord steel muscles.

  “Yes, but not of my own making, I assure you. I go as Trevor’s second only.” The blue of his eyes had deepened almost to black, excitement bubbling there. “There is no danger, Alethea. Seconds rarely fight these days.”

  “No.” A nasty metallic taste flooded her mouth and she grasped his other arm, making the candle quiver, throwing wild shadows on the walls. “You cannot go, Jack, you cannot fight.”

  “Alethea.” He set the candle down and pried her hands off him and gathered her into his arms. “I promise you I will return unscathed, but I must go. I am obliga
ted.”

  “To whom? Lord Trevor?” She couldn’t let him go to his death—no matter to whom he felt indebted. “You will place duty to him above duty to your wife? From what you’ve told me, he seems more Lord Dalbury’s friend than yours.”

  “No, my dear, the obligation is to…a woman.”

  Rage flew into her as she jerked back, tearing herself from his arms. “Another woman?”

  With a deep sigh, Jack pushed her gently into a chair. “Do you remember the night you proposed? I told you I was betrothed?”

  Jealousy burning brightly in her heart, she nodded.

  “She is the woman I go to champion. I broke the betrothal, but pledged my protection to her and to Lord Trevor.”

  “What does Lord Trevor have to do with any of this?” Why would Jack and Trevor both be obligated to the same woman?

  Jack glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. The hands stood at two-thirty, and he swore softly, heading for the door. “I must make haste, Alethea. I have neither time nor leave to tell you everything.” His tone had become impatient, despite the lines of concern around his mouth.

  Rising like a Fury bent on vengeance, Alethea stalked up to Jack, not stopping until she was toe to toe with her husband. “You will tell me why you are leaving me in the middle of the night, to participate in a duel where you could get killed, over a woman who is neither your wife nor your sister.” Eyes boring into him, she balled her hands into fists. Enough was enough. “Who is she?”

  Sighing deeply, Jack shrugged and said, “Miss Violet Carlton.”

  “Violet!” Whatever name Alethea had expected to hear, her dearest friend’s was not it. “How did you meet her?” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And how did you become betrothed to her?”

  Running a hand around the back of his neck, Jack swore under his breath. “Alethea, there are some things I simply cannot divulge for decency’s sake. I met her originally during the Season, at some party or ball. Later I found her in quite different, quite dire circumstances. For a brief time I believed that marriage to me might be the remedy for her plight.”