How to Seduce a Scoundrel

by Vicky Dreiling

  She scoffed and turned away. “You cannot stop me.”

  His hands shot out. She gasped as he imprisoned her upper arms.

  “You are too innocent to understand,” he bit out.

  “You think me naïve, but I know how to thwart a man.”

  “I can prove you wrong,” he said, his voice rumbling. His eyes darkened as he snared her with his intense gaze. She felt as if he were pulling her ever closer, mesmerizing her as if she were the prey and he the predator.

  When he wrapped his arms around her, she caught her breath. His chest and thighs were pressed against her, making her all too aware of his hard, muscular body. She tried to resist the exhilarating sensations coursing through her veins, but her knees and her resolve weakened.

  All the while, he never broke eye contact with her. His breathing grew harsher, faster, and her own breath hitched in her throat. She told herself to look away, to break this sensual spell he’d cast over her, but the subtle scent of starch and something else, something male and forbidden, filled her head.

  He lowered his face until his mouth was so close his breath whispered over her lips. “Do you think your bravado would stop Ramsey?”

  His words sliced through the haze in her brain. “You don’t scare—”

  He claimed her lips.

  In her many daydreams, she’d imagined he would kiss her tenderly. She’d not expected the urgency, the sheer hunger of his kiss. Nothing could have prepared her for the way he devoured her lips. She knew she should stop him, but as he continued to kiss her, her wits scattered.

  When his tongue traced her mouth, her lips parted involuntarily. He plunged inside, setting a rhythm of advance and retreat. She grasped his lapels, holding on for dear life as her knees trembled. None of her fantasies could compare to the reality of his intimate kiss.

  He swept his hand down her spine and cupped her bottom, setting her skin on fire. She reached for his shoulders, needing more support as he pressed her closer. Her blood heated to a fever pitch.

  He cupped her breast and, through the fabric of her bodice, circled his thumb around her nipple. An unexpected spurt of pleasure shot through her. As his tongue filled her mouth again and again, she felt something harden against her belly. For a moment, confusion gripped her. Then, in shock, she realized he was aroused.

  A small voice told her to stop him, but he drew her tongue into his mouth, and the voice grew silent. She was lost, uncaring about anything except the mindless need coursing through her.

  He tore his mouth away, leaving her bereft. A haze swirled through her head as she gazed at him. His eyes were darker, glazed with an expression she’d never seen before.

  Chapter Five

  A Scoundrel’s Code of Conduct: Never let the beast take control.

  A dense fog enveloped his brain. His cock strained against the confines of his tight trousers. He was burning up as he pressed her closer. Seconds before he kissed her again, he met her gaze. The innocent blue eyes staring back at him washed over him like a giant ocean wave.

  He stepped back, breathing like a racehorse. Bloody hell! He’d kissed and touched Julianne.

  Her eyes held a look of wonder as she touched her kiss-swollen lips. She’d probably never been kissed before. His chest burned with shame. He’d lost all control with his best friend’s sister. Damn his sorry soul to hell.

  Hawk turned his back and clenched his fists, trying desperately to will his erection into submission. For God’s sake, he was her guardian. Tristan had trusted him to protect her. And he’d failed miserably.

  The memory of his father’s denouncement more than a dozen years ago echoed in his head. You’re an immoral blackguard.

  He’d proven his father right repeatedly, but he’d never touched an innocent before. Only the worst sort of scoundrel would take advantage of a young, unmarried lady.

  He walked over to the sideboard and splashed brandy into a glass. When he downed the liquor, it burned his throat and made his eyes water. The lust coursing through his veins gradually receded, leaving a dull ache in his groin.

  What the hell had possessed him?

  He recalled his rising anger at her refusal to take his warnings seriously. Then he’d snapped, meaning to teach her a lesson. All he’d done was show himself to be no better than Ramsey.

  He set the glass aside. If anyone had burst in on them, he would have had no choice but to offer marriage. He couldn’t even let himself think of Tristan’s reaction.

  Right now, he had to put aside thoughts of what might have happened and deal with the aftermath. All he could offer her was an apology, but hollow words could never make up for what he’d done to her.

  He turned to face her, and the blush staining her cheeks made him wince. “I beg your forgiveness. That should not have happened.”

  A suspicious sheen filled her eyes, and she averted her face as if she didn’t want him to see. “I… I let you.”

  He despised himself. Her first kiss should have been gentle and sweet, but he’d never meant to kiss her. And he’d certainly not counted on the desire that had consumed him the moment their lips had met. “You are not to blame.”

  She glanced at him with a miserable expression and looked away again.

  He walked over to her, wanting to offer comfort, but he stopped short of touching her again. “I am the one at fault.”

  After uttering the words, he recalled walking in on Tristan and Tessa in the library at Ashdown House a year ago. At the time, he’d thought his friend’s guilt overblown. Now he understood exactly how Tristan had felt.

  Julianne drew in a shuddering breath. “You won’t say anything to my brother about our indiscretion, will you?”

  The uncertainty in her voice seared his conscience. “No good would come of a confession.” The consequences would ruin his friendship with Tristan and alienate their families.

  Julianne blew out her breath as if relieved.

  He ought to bow out as her guardian, but then he’d have to explain his reasons to Tristan. What would he say? Your sister got foxed, and I punished her with a lascivious kiss?

  He’d made a bad mistake, but that didn’t change his responsibility as her guardian. If anything, he must tighten the reins to ensure she stayed out of trouble. “We have yet to settle the matter of last night’s fiasco.”

  She clasped her hands and faced him. “We both had lapses in judgment, but we will forget them.”

  He considered her guileless expression for a long moment and didn’t trust her. “To prevent future problems, I will set forth my expectations.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “As your guardian, it is my duty to make the rules clear in advance. Now, rule number one: You may not accept any invitations until I approve of them.”

  She muttered something under her breath, but he refused to let her deter him. “Rule number two: No more than one glass of wine or sherry.”

  “Am I allowed to count the number of brandies you imbibe?” she said, her voice rising.

  He would not let her divert him. “Rule number three: No flirting.”

  “Do you plan to sew my lips shut?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Rule number four: I must approve all your dance partners in advance.”

  “Do you plan to make them audition?” she said in a sugary-sweet voice.

  Her saucy retort irritated him. “It was wrong of me to kiss you, but that leads me to rule number five: If any other man tries, you are to slap him and then inform me so I can kill him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, and I do not appreciate you giving me rules.”

  “I’m not done,” he said. “Rule number six: You will have nothing to do with Ramsey.”

  “How am I to avoid him when he is Georgette’s brother?”

  “I will keep him away,” he said.

  She made an exasperated sound. “Next thing I know, you’ll tether me in leading strings.”

  “As long as you follow the rules, there wil
l be no trouble. Now, tonight, I will escort you and my aunt to Lady Morley’s literary salon.” The last thing he wanted was to waste an evening listening to fops read syrupy verse, but he had no choice. After last night’s debacle, he dared not trust Julianne again.

  “My mother drummed the proprieties into my head long ago,” she said.

  Evidently, they had flown out of her head last night. “If you wish to stay in London for the remainder of the season, you had better adhere to the rules,” he said. “There will be no more chances for you, my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl.”

  No, and she never would be.

  Hawk took up a stance near the sideboard in Lady Morley’s crowded drawing room and sipped a brandy as he watched the guests milling about. Naturally, half a dozen young bucks surrounded Julianne. He tried telling himself they were young, in awe of her beauty, and therefore harmless. But they were males. The second they clapped eyes on a lovely woman, their primitive instincts took over, and their brains conjured up a picture—a naked picture.

  Fire sizzled his blood at the thought. Clenching his fists, he moved to rescue Julianne from their lascivious ogling. But Lord Morley, a rotund fellow with florid cheeks, lurched past him. Hawk stepped sideways, sloshing his brandy and barely avoiding a collision. He set the glass aside and took out his handkerchief to dab at his damp sleeve.

  Julianne sashayed over to him, her slim brows elevated. “You reek like a brew house. How many brandies have you had?”

  He put the handkerchief away. “I am not foxed.”

  She scoffed. “More evidence of your hypocrisy.”

  “You violated rule number three.”

  “Refresh my memory,” she said.

  “No flirting,” he growled.

  She huffed. “I spoke to those gentlemen for a brief time. They are very nice.”

  “Right-oh.” Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Ramsey, Georgette, and Amy headed toward them. He knew Ramsey intended to use his sister as a means of engaging Julianne in conversation. Determined to thwart the fiend, Hawk took Julianne’s arm and all but dragged her away.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  His hand clamped tightly on her fingers. “No.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “You did that on purpose.”

  Well, that was obvious. “I’m taking you to my aunt.”

  “What next? Do you plan to lock me up?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  As Hawk passed the cubs who had flirted with her earlier, he gave them a menacing don’t-even-glance-at-my-ward look. He smiled evilly at their arrested expressions, certain now they would keep their distance.

  A sense of satisfaction swelled his chest. He had complete control of the situation now. Granted, he’d probably go bloody mad with boredom while escorting Julianne and his aunt about town. But he would not renege on his promise to Tristan.

  When they reached his aunt, a slim, elderly gentleman with thinning hair approached her with a cup of tea.

  “How very thoughtful of you, Mr. Peckham,” Hester said. “And here is my nephew and Lady Julianne.”

  While Hester made the introductions, Hawk wondered where she had met Peckham. Then again, his aunt collected strays wherever she went.

  Lady Morley clapped her hands and asked everyone to find seats so that the literary event could commence. Hawk sat next to Julianne, wondering how long the poetry readings would last. His aunt had mentioned a midnight repast. He retrieved his watch, and with an inward groan, he noted it was only a quarter past nine. What a dull way to spend the evening.

  Julianne leaned closer to him, filling his head with her light floral scent. The devil. This guardian business was addling his brain.

  “If you are so eager to depart, be gone,” she whispered. “Your aunt and I can take a hackney home.”

  He put his watch away. “You wound me. I thought you longed for my company.”

  She huffed.

  Lady Morley smiled. “Now let us begin. Lord Ramsey has graciously agreed to read one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.”

  Hawk snorted.

  Julianne elbowed him. “Stop acting like a wayward schoolboy,” she said sotto voce.

  He grinned. “Must I?”

  “Hush.”

  Ramsey strode to the fireplace, opened a small leather-bound book, and looked directly at Julianne. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

  “How original,” Hawk muttered.

  Julianne swatted his hand with her fan.

  “Ouch,” he yelped, shaking his stinging hand and interrupting Ramsey’s droning voice.

  “Hawk, you rogue,” Lady Morley said, affection in her voice. “Will you behave?”

  He winked. “I shall try to mend my naughty ways.”

  When laughter erupted, Ramsey narrowed his eyes. “I will start from the beginning so that we may experience the verse as it was meant to be heard.”

  No doubt the bard was rolling in his grave at the prospect.

  Ramsey cleared his throat. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and—”

  Lord Morley, who was passed out on the sofa, broke wind. His lady kicked him in the shin. He jerked up, looking round wild-eyed. “What? What?”

  Hawk’s shoulders shook, knowing the next verse would trip up Ramsey.

  Ramsey’s jaw worked, but he stubbornly continued reading. “Rough winds do shake…” His face heated as he paused.

  Julianne clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Hawk bit back laughter and slid down in his chair. This evening was turning out to be far more entertaining than he’d expected.

  Ramsey managed to stumble through the rest of the sonnet. When he finished, Lady Morley hurried to the hearth. “Lord Ramsey, thank you for that stirring rendition.”

  Ramsey stalked off to the sideboard, poured himself a brandy, and tossed it back.

  As two more gentlemen read from Thomas Wyatt and John Donne, respectively, Hawk fought back a yawn more than once. Then one of the cubs approached Lady Morley. With a bright smile, she informed everyone that Mr. Charles Osgood wished to read his own verse.

  The lanky cub blushed as he withdrew a folded paper from his coat. He affected a lovesick expression, one he must have thought suitably poetic. “It is called ‘The Lady of Moonlit Tresses.’ ”

  Hawk cupped his hand round Julianne’s ear. “Things are bound to liven up now,” he whispered.

  “You are incorrigible,” she murmured. “He’s a very nice young man.”

  Osgood took a deep breath and said, “The moon upon her raven tresses doth shine. Of her beauty, the stars declare divine.”

  Hawk reached over and tweaked the curl by Julianne’s ear. She glared at him.

  Osgood paused to place his hand over his chest. “Alack, my heart is filled with woe.”

  “Is this the part where he mops his tears with a hanky?” Hawk whispered.

  “Shhh,” Julianne said. “He will hear you.”

  Osgood lowered the paper and looked at the ceiling as if beseeching a higher power. “Oh, lunar goddess, all my dreams upon thee I do bestow.”

  A smattering of applause followed. Osgood’s friends were smirking and elbowing one another. No doubt they meant to rib the bad poet mercilessly.

  After four more dull readings, Lady Morley once more walked to the hearth. Hawk hoped it was time for refreshments.

  Lady Morley smiled sweetly. “Lord Hawkfield, perhaps you would care to read a verse or two.”

  He grinned. “Very well. I shall recite my favorite. There once was a lady with a penchant for whist, who drank so much ale that she pi—”

  “That will be quite enough, you scamp,” Lady Morley said.

  An hour later in the noisy dining room, Julianne huddled with Amy and Georgette in a corner, apart from the other guests. Hawk sat at the table, wolfing down sandwiches. Satisfied that he was preoccupied, Julianne turned to her friends and told them about the rules he’d given her.

&nb
sp; Georgette pulled a face. “That devil.”

  Amy sighed. “He is taking matters too far. I’m sure he’ll relent once he realizes you are abiding by the proprieties.”

  Julianne thought better of telling her friends she’d already broken every rule of conduct when she’d fallen into his arms. She’d given in to his every kiss and touch as if she were a… a courtesan. The memory heated her face. She unfurled her fan and wafted it to cool her cheeks. “I need your help with the next chapter of the pamphlet. How is a lady to become irresistible to gentlemen?”

  “Lady Rutledge mentioned implied promises of, er, seduction,” Georgette said under her breath.

  Amy shook her head. “Julianne, you must not include such indecent advice.”

  Julianne ignored Amy’s warning. “I suppose the lady could give the gentleman a suggestive look. What do you think?”

  Amy’s lips parted. “I think your scruples have gone on holiday.”

  Clearly, Amy would object to every idea, so Julianne directed her questions to Georgette. “What else can a lady do to entice a man?”

  “Flirt,” Georgette said.

  Julianne waved her hand. “Yes, but I need an idea that is unique. The lady must stand out among a crowd of women. What can she do to become an original?”

  “Beauty trumps everything,” Amy said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

  Julianne regarded Amy with excitement. “You just solved the riddle for me. Beauty may be the initial attraction, but beauty alone will not sustain a gentleman’s interest, particularly one who balks at marriage.”

  “That would be all gentlemen,” Georgette grumbled.

  Julianne continued. “It is said that Anne Boleyn was no great beauty, and yet she charmed every man at court.”

  “Anne Boleyn is no one to emulate. She was a horrid, conniving woman who committed adultery with the king,” Amy said.

  “She got the worst of the bargain.” Georgette demonstrated by slicing her hand across her throat.

  “All the same, she knew how to play gentlemen to make them want her,” Julianne said. “I need to include specific examples.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “Have a care. Lord Ramsey is approaching.”