So why then did she suffer from this restless disquiet?
Was it the sudden, unwavering attention after being hidden in the shadows for so long? Or the fact that her decision to choose a husband was now no longer a vague dream, but a very real possibility?
Or was it . . .
“Shame on you, Jane. You promised me faithfully that you would devote today to rest.”
Hellion.
Lifting her head Jane regarded the gentleman negligently leaning against the doorjamb with startled eyes.
That now familiar shiver raced through her body. It did not seem to matter how often they encountered one another, she always felt that same jolt of shock. That breathless, tingling sensation as if she had just been struck by lightning.
It was annoying, really.
Granted he was handsome. As handsome as Lucifer in his pearl gray coat and black breeches. And there was a dangerous charm in that lopsided smile. But, after a fortnight of being in his company, of having him shower her with his charm, and of enduring his far-too-intimate caresses, she should have been accustomed to his presence.
Instead she felt more nervous and ill at ease than ever.
“Mr. Caulfield,” she murmured, rising awkwardly to her feet.
His smile widened as he slowly strolled across the carpet. With casual ease he leaned against the desk, close enough to her stiff form to cloud her in his warm, male scent.
“You also promised to recall my name is Hellion, not Mr. Caulfield,” he gently teased.
“I . . . I did not hear you announced.”
As if sensing her rattled reaction to his sudden arrival, the dark eyes smoldered with amusement.
“No doubt because I was not.”
She forced herself to take a deep breath. Stop acting like an ass, Jane Middleton, she sternly chided herself. Of course her heart beat faster when he was near. And of course she tingled with delicious awareness. This gentleman was an expert at making women melt into giddy puddles. It was, indeed, his stock-in-trade. The only danger was ever forgetting that for him it was no more than a well-practiced game.
“I see that I shall have to speak with my butler,” she retorted in determinedly light tones. “He seems to have forgotten who is in command of his salary.”
“Do not be too hard on the poor man.” Without warning he reached out to tap the end of her nose with his finger. “He naturally presumed you would desire to receive a call from the gentleman who has stolen your fancy.”
She blinked beneath the full force of his charm. “Naturally.”
The dark eyes shimmered with a positively wicked light as he allowed his gaze to roam over her slender frame currently attired in a plain gray gown.
“You are delighted to have me call, are you not?” he murmured.
Forbidding her knees to buckle beneath that potent survey, Jane forcibly shrouded herself in a brisk composure. This was business, she grimly reminded herself. Nothing more than business.
“Actually I am,” she said in steady tones. “You can be of service to me.”
Expecting a hint of pique that she was not fluttering in confusion as most he encountered, Jane was unprepared for the manner in which he slowly pushed away from the desk and framed her face in his hands.
“Ah, now that sounds intriguing,” he said in husky tones.
Jane licked her suddenly dry lips. “Hellion, what are you doing?”
He gave a low chuckle as he slowly lowered his head and brushed his lips over her own.
“Being of service, of course.”
Her breath fled as a startling heat rushed through her blood. Blast this gentleman. It should be against the law to be so dangerously sensuous.
“I did not mean . . .”
Her protest died a swift death as his lips teased the corner of her mouth. “Relax, my dear.”
Relax? She smothered a near hysterical laugh. How on earth was she supposed to relax when a fierce pleasure was clutching her stomach into knots?
“Hellion, you are being absurd,” she breathed. “There is no need to pretend when no one is about.”
He continued to nuzzle her lips in that distracting fashion, his hands softly stroking over the heated skin of her cheeks.
“Of course there is,” he whispered, his tongue reaching out to trace the outline of her lower lip. “I must remain in practice.”
“You no doubt have practiced enough for a lifetime.”
“Mmm, then it must be that you are in need of practice.”
She reached up to clutch at the lapels of his coat. It was that or melt at his feet.
“I do not believe you.”
He slowly pulled back, the dark eyes glittering with an oddly hectic glow.
“Perhaps I simply cannot resist temptation,” he said before his hands tightened upon her face and his mouth claimed her own in a kiss that was no longer teasing, but starkly demanding.
Jane gave a soft moan as his tongue slipped between her lips. This was different from the casual touches and occasional intimacies that he had offered over the past weeks. There was a hunger in his kiss. A compulsive need that awoke a shimmering response deep within her.
Over and over he plundered her mouth, his fingers spearing into her soft curls. A strange throbbing began to pulse inside her and without conscious thought she was arching her body to press against his steely length.
Restless and confused, she did not know what she was seeking until she felt the hard bulk pressing into her lower stomach. Yes, she thought dizzily. That hardness was what she desired. She needed to have it next to her, within her, filling that hollow ache.
She should have been shocked. Even horrified. Instead she battled the most indecent urge to rub herself against that straining bulge.
As if sensing her rising desire, Hellion gave a gasping moan, and lowering his hands he pressed them into the curve of her back.
“Jane,” he husked, pressing his hips indecently against her. “Let me feel your lips upon me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me . . . taste of me.”
The seductive words swirled through her fogged mind, and barely aware of what she did, Jane discovered herself allowing her mouth to drift from his lips to the chiseled line of his jaw. Her touch was featherlight, but a violent shudder abruptly shook his body. A shudder echoed within her.
“Gads, but you are a dangerous woman.”
With an effort Jane sucked in a deep breath. What had begun as a game was swiftly turning into something perilous. Something that could easily lead to disaster if she did not have a care.
Pressing her hands against his chest she forced herself to clear her scattered thoughts.
“You are the dangerous one, not I,” she corrected in a voice that was oddly thick.
Keeping his arms firmly about her, Hellion peered down at her flushed countenance with a hooded gaze.
“Are you frightened?”
Jane could not halt her wry smile. She should be frightened. Even as an innocent she knew that the passion he stirred within her posed a genuine threat. It would be so easy to forget all in his arms. To forsake sanity for the pleasure he could offer.
But while common sense warned her to beware, she could feel no fear. Instead she was filled with a wondering, thrilling sense of elation.
The dazzling pleasure that he provoked might be a sin, but it was too delicious to regret.
“No,” she at last admitted.
A slow, soul-stirring smile curved his lips. “I believe that is what I admire the most about you, my dear.”
Her brows lifted at his puzzling words. “What?”
“That unwavering courage,” he continued softly. “Have you ever faced anyone or anything you could not conquer?”
You.
The unwelcome thought came without warning, and Jane was abruptly pulling from his grasp and turning to hide her horrified expression.
What was wrong with her?
She did not want to conquer this man. He was a
rake. A rogue. A gentleman who could never offer a woman more than a fleeting, meaningless pleasure.
He was in her life only because she had offered him a fortune to be there. The moment she forgot that was the moment she was in true danger.
Grasping ruthless control of her shaken nerves, she firmly turned back to meet his searching gaze with a brittle smile.
“There is London, to begin with,” she retorted. “It terrifies me.”
“But you have conquered London,” he argued with a lift of his brows. “You are on the lips of all society.”
Jane gave a shrug. “Only because of you. And only for the moment. By next week I might very well be forgotten.”
“Then we shall simply have to ensure that does not occur.” He folded his arms over the width of his chest. “If I possess one talent it is for giving the rattles plenty of fodder.”
“Still, I must act swiftly.”
“What do you mean?”
With a determined motion she reached to pluck the sheet of paper from the desk. She had hired Hellion for one purpose. To find a husband. Not to seduce her out of her wits.
A pity, perhaps, a renegade voice whispered in the back of her mind. She possessed little hope that any other gentleman would ever manage to bring her such wicked bliss. But there it was.
And the sooner she found her prospective husband, the sooner she could return to Surrey and sanity. Something she was in dire need of at the moment.
“I have been making a list,” she said in what she hoped were firm tones.
Hellion grimaced. “Egads, not another list?”
“I have told you that it is the manner that I keep my thoughts in order.”
“What is it?”
“It is a list of the eligible bachelors that have been introduced over the past fortnight.”
Oddly his ruthlessly beautiful features seemed to harden, and his large form stiffened at her explanation.
“Indeed.”
“Unfortunately I know little more than their names. I hoped you would be able to tell me more of them.”
“Me?”
“Well, you are considerably better acquainted with them than myself.”
A golden brow arched, the dark eyes glittering like shards of ebony. “My dear Jane, while I may be considered worldly, I can assure you that my interests do not include worthy young gentlemen.”
Her lips thinned at his drawling words, but she gamely kept her determination intact. “You must know something of them.”
“Nothing more than the fact that I find them tedious bores.”
Her brows furrowed at his mocking tones. Really, he was not being very helpful.
“Will you not at least glance at the names? Perhaps . . .”
“No.” Placing his hands upon his hips, Hellion regarded her with a sharp impatience. “It is too fine a day to waste upon your ridiculous lists.”
Her own patience came to an abrupt end. Her list was not ridiculous. Blast it all, she was attempting to be sensible. Not an easy task when he was standing there looking like a fallen angel and making her body shiver with unruly awareness.
“Unlike you, I am not in London to fribble away my days,” she retorted in sharp tones. “I have only a few weeks until the end of the Season. By then I intend to have a husband.”
His nose flared with annoyance. “And you think to pick one randomly off a list as if you were choosing a lottery ticket? It is absurd.”
Jane flinched at his harsh accusation. Did he think she would not have preferred a normal courtship? That she had not dreamed of a gentleman tumbling deeply into love with her and sweeping her off her feet?
Did he not think she was utterly embarrassed to know that she could never, ever attract a gentleman without dangling her fortune beneath his nose?
“What would you have me do?” she demanded. “Return to Surrey and wed a local farmer? Or perhaps you believe a merchant more suitable for a maiden who smells of the shop?”
His breath caught then, and slowly his expression softened. With a rueful smile he reached out to gently tuck a stray curl behind her ear.
“Of course I do not think such a thing.”
“Then . . .”
“Jane, I did not come here to argue,” he interrupted in low tones.
She regarded him warily. “Then why did you come?”
“I thought we should be seen together in the park. It will be expected.”
It would be expected, of course. The knowledge did not, however, soothe the prickly unease that made her feel raw and on edge.
What was it about this gentleman? One moment he had stirred her passions to a fever pitch and the next he had her snapping like a fishwife.
It was all utterly unlike her calm, sensible nature.
“Actually, I fear that . . .”
His hand shifted to gently cup her chin, and he was once again standing far too close for comfort.
“Jane, do not sulk. I apologize if I wounded you. Bring your damnable list and we will discuss your prospective husbands if you desire.”
She wisely stepped away from the enchanting feel of his fingers against her skin. She had already fallen for his role of practiced seducer once today.
Once was quite enough.
“Please do not patronize me, Mr. Caulfield.”
“I am not patronizing you. And I did apologize. Rather nicely, I thought,” he retorted with a boyish grin.
“And do not think to sway me with your charm.”
He did not appear at all put out by her warning. Indeed, a decidedly devilish amusement returned to the dark eyes as he studied her stubborn expression.
“No? Shall I beg?” He caught her hand before she could react and lifted it to press a delicate kiss in the center of her palm. “Please, my dear, will you accompany me for a turn in the park? I pledge to be upon my best behavior.”
Her heart flopped in her chest. Oh, he was good. He was very, very good.
“I . . . I do not believe your best behavior is anything to boast of,” she weakly chided.
“Do not be cruel, my dear,” he coaxed with that irresistible charm. “Let us enjoy the lovely day.”
Jane momentarily wavered. Say no, a warning voice whispered in the back of her mind. Hellion was dangerous enough when they were safely surrounded by society. To spend the day in the relative privacy of his carriage did not bode well for her already strained nerves.
Especially not after that kiss, which had left her breathless and nearly panting with need.
But even as the knowledge flared through her mind, she was dismissing it as the reaction of a coward.
She had known Hellion was a practiced rake when she hired him. And that their charade would involve a certain level of intimacy between the two of them. She had even logically acknowledged that she would be as vulnerable as any other foolish woman to his potent sensuality.
Nothing had changed.
She was still in want of a husband. And her only hope was allowing this gentleman to lure potential suitors to her side.
Sucking in a steadying breath, she gave an abrupt nod of her head. “I must change.”
Satisfaction flashed in the dark eyes as he brushed careless fingers over her cheek.
“Wear your new carriage gown. It brings out the blue in your eyes.”
Hellion was hard.
Hard and aching.
It was an uncommon sensation for London’s most notorious rake.
Tooling his matched grays through the crowded park, he shifted uncomfortably on the leather seat of his high-perch phaeton. At his side Jane remained blithely indifferent to his pain as she gazed in interest on the numerous gentlemen that bowed and smiled in her direction.
Bloody hell.
He had discovered at an early age to direct his burgeoning lust toward those women who were readily available. He could see nothing romantic in torturing himself with desire for an innocent, respectable woman who would deny him the pleasure he ached to fulfill. It was far bet
ter to have a ready relief for his passionate nature.
A wise strategy, he wryly conceded, except for the fact that he had not taken into account the managing, shrewish Miss Middleton.
It was, of course, absurd.
There was nothing particularly desirable about the small, gamine-faced chit. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was too skinny, her features were too plain, and her tongue sharp enough to flay a gentleman at a hundred paces.
She was not at all his style. Even if she hadn’t been an innocent.
But absurd or not, he had discovered almost from the very first a sharp, undeniable urge to bed this woman.
What was it? Against his will his gaze lingered upon the elfin countenance next to him.
Perhaps it was that vivid spirit that crackled about her. Or the hint of tender kindness in the soft curve of her lips. Certainly he had never noted such kindness in other women of his acquaintance. Or simply that warm, enticing scent of spring that enfolded him whenever she was near.
Or maybe it was the knowledge that she was the complete opposite of him. Where he was selfish she was generous, where he was passionate she was coolly driven, where he was confident she was oddly vulnerable.
Was it not said that opposites were irresistibly drawn to one another?
Whatever the cause it was making him damnably uncomfortable, he acknowledged grimly. And it was not helping to ponder the odd fascination that was shimmering through his body.
With an effort he squashed the urge to drive to some remote location and complete what he had started earlier. He had been a fool to kiss her. A fool to press her so close that he could still feel her soft form brushing his aching thighs. A fool to urge her to drive him mad by teasing him with that soft mouth.
Squaring his shoulders he attempted to conjure his usual negligent charm. It would never do to appear twisted into knots over a mere dab of a maiden.
“You see, my dear, is this not preferable to spending the afternoon in that stuffy library of yours?” he demanded in light tones.
Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) Page 8