To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  A burst of light fell on her path. He knew she was there! Harriet turned, moving her feet as quickly as she could, her mind intent only on flight.

  “Running away again, Miss Sainthill?”

  The challenge in his voice brought her to a dead stop. Harriet slowly pivoted on her heel to face him.

  “I was not running, I was walking. Back to my chamber. ’Tis rather late.”

  “Yes, it is late.” He gave her a critical eye. “Since you are in your nightclothes, I assume you could not sleep. Were you headed toward the library, perchance?”

  Harriet did not answer, knowing she should not be surprised that he was aware of her late night activities.

  “If the library was indeed your destination, pray, do not let me chase you away.”

  It was very difficult, but Harriet managed to ignore the barb. She crossed her arms under her chest and placed a stern frown upon her face. “I am not in danger of being chased away by you or anyone else.”

  Mr. Wainwright pulled a grim face. “Then why do you run in the opposite direction every time I find myself within a few feet of you?”

  “I am not running away,” Harriet insisted. “I have responsibilities and duties that require an enormous amount of my time and attention.”

  “You are chillingly distant whenever we converse.”

  “Nonsense.” Harriet shivered involuntarily as a cold draft whirled around her ankles. “I am merely too busy to engage in idle chatter.”

  “The hallway is drafty and cold,” he said. “There is a warm fire in the library. Let us continue our discussion in comfort.”

  Biting back a retort, Harriet regarded him cautiously. It might be better if they did clear the air between them. Yet, did she dare risk being alone with him? “I prefer the door to remain open,” she said as she preceded him into the library.

  He raised his eyebrows, but Harriet would not be deterred. Above all, she could not allow the physical bond that seemed to ignite between them whenever they were alone to take hold. The library was cozy enough without the added privacy of a closed door.

  “Will you have a seat?” he offered cordially.

  “I do not care—”

  “Sit down.” He made an impatient sound. “Please.”

  Her cheeks heated. She had forgotten what a large man he was, how formidable he could be, especially when he wanted something.

  She thrust herself into the nearest seat, realizing too late it was a couch. Mr. Wainwright took immediate advantage of her mistake by seating himself beside her. The couch was small and narrow. He pressed against her arm and thigh, causing the chills she had been feeling to change to heat.

  The air around them hummed. She briefly considered moving herself to a chair on the far side of the room, but that seemed to give too much importance to the fact they were seated so closely.

  “It appears that I have done something to deeply offend you, Harriet. I would like to offer an explanation or an apology, yet in truth, I know not what I have done.”

  She looked at the fire, wondering why he had finally decided to say something. “I am merely the lowly governess, sir. My opinions and feelings are of no consequence to you.”

  To her chagrin, instead of being angered or put out by her response, he laughed. “Hell, I must have really put my foot in it this time if you are using your best governess tone with me.”

  His joviality stung. “How lovely that I can provide some much needed amusement for you, Mr. Wainwright.”

  His expression quickly sobered. “You have deliberately placed a wall between us, Harriet. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are nothing but employer and employee, sir,” she stated dully.

  “My God, woman, we are far more than that,” he replied harshly.

  “If we were, then you would not feel compelled to keep the truth about my charges from me.”

  “I do not understand what you mean.”

  Harriet narrowed her eyes and stared at him, then determined he was trying much too hard to look innocent. “Reality is not always pleasant, but as adults we must face the consequences of our actions.” She stood on her feet and walked towards the open door. “You have tried to hide the truth from me, but I have eyes in my head and a perfectly functioning brain. I know your secret, Nathaniel.”

  There, she had said it. Inexplicable tears began to sting the back of her eyelids. Harriet balled her hand into a fist and pressed it hard to her lips to keep the sobs at bay. Until that moment she had not realized how deeply she had been hurt by his duplicity, how betrayed she felt by his lack of trust.

  Nathaniel scrambled off the couch and blocked the doorway. “What did you say?”

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “I have figured out what you were so determined to hide from me. I know your secret.”

  “You cannot!” He slammed the door so hard that a book fell off the shelf and crashed to the carpet.

  Harriet let out a hollow laugh. Even now he would lie to her, deny the truth? “It does not take a scholar to see the true relationship between you and the children. Why, ’tis plain as the nose on your face. Or should I say the eyes in your head? You are certainly entitled to your privacy, but when your pride or whatever it is unnecessarily causes the suffering of an innocent child I will not stand idly by and allow that to happen.”

  His eyes darkened. His breath came in short puffs and then he moved towards her, so quickly she had no time to react. With a snarl of barely controlled rage, Nathaniel grabbed her shoulders roughly and pinned her with his body against the wall. “Bloody hell, Harriet, you are making no sense. What have you done?”

  Her heart pounded in her throat. Though she told herself he would not harm her, she was very much aware of his superior physical strength. “I have followed my conscience, sir.”

  “I do not know what that means!” His voice was raw and rasping. “Tell me exactly what you have done.”

  A long, awful silence hung over them. “I wrote a letter to Mrs. Hutchinson and asked her to send Jeanne Marie’s doll to Hillsdale Castle. I also enclosed directions and a small draft to cover the cost of sending the toy.”

  Harriet felt Nathaniel’s entire body jolt. Slowly, his hands fell away, though his eyes seemed to be burning through her. With shaking hands she adjusted her robe and the nightgown beneath it. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers, the hard muscled length of him pressing her back against the wall.

  His loss of control had frightened her. Not because she feared any physical danger to her person. Oh, no. His reaction let her know that something awful had happened. A niggling worm of doubt and fear began to build within her.

  “I expressly forbade you to contact anyone from the children’s past. Why would you do such a thing?” The tension stretched taut. “If you know my secret, you know that the children must remain hidden or else I am in danger of losing them.”

  Harriet let out an exasperated groan. “But they are your children. You have the right to take them wherever you wish.”

  He released a long breath and admitted, “No, I do not. I am not their legal guardian. At least not yet.”

  “Of course you are, you are their father.”

  “Their father!” The words exploded out of Nathaniel. “Bloody hell, is that what you believe?”

  “That is what I know. Your resemblance to Gregory is marked. ’Tis obvious that he is your son.”

  He looked completely taken aback. “Gregory is not my child, though I wish to God he were, for then I would not be in this mess.” Frustration shone in his dark eyes. “Tell me again about the letter.”

  He looked so righteously indignant it caused Harriet’s stomach to twist uneasily. Gregory was not his son? “Jeanne Marie is utterly miserable without her doll. I assumed you did not wish to contact the household because you were ashamed of her illegitimate birth, so I wrote the housekeeper a note and arranged for the letter to be delivered to London.”

  “How did you know about London? And Mrs. Hutchi
nson?”

  Harriet swallowed thickly. She was not proud of how she had obtained the information. Haltingly she told him the rest, including how she had arranged for a quick delivery of the missive through the stable lad’s brother.

  “All my careful plans destroyed with a simple letter about a doll.” He leaned back against the door and rubbed his hand over his face. “Phoebe, Jeanne Marie, and Gregory are the children of the legitimate marriage between my older brother, Robert and his wife, Bernadette. They both died earlier this year after contracting influenza. I know that Robert wanted me to raise his children, but no codicil had been added to his will.

  “My claim for guardianship is being contested by my uncle and he managed to get himself appointed temporary guardian. Since he is only interested in their fortune and their power, I took the children from London, without his knowledge or consent and hid them in Scotland. For their protection.”

  “Their power? What power can children possess that would interest an adult?”

  His gaze became distant. “We are not a merchant family. Gregory is a duke. The eighth Duke of Claridge, to be precise.”

  Harriet let out an ironic laugh. The lies went even deeper than she thought, though she had always suspected Nathaniel was not who he claimed. “I always had difficulty believing you were a wool merchant.”

  “I am Nathaniel Bennet, Baron of Avery. Amazingly our paths never crossed in Society, though I knew all about you.” He executed a deep mocking bow. “I should have recognized trouble when I saw it, and had the sense to send you packing the moment you crossed this threshold, dripping with rain and filled with a spirit no typical governess would ever display. My better judgment urged me to do so, and fool that I am, I ignored my own intuition.”

  Harriet froze in confusion, her face draining of all color. “You knew who I was?”

  He responded with an arrogant snort. “Didn’t everyone? The infamous Miss Harriet Sainthill. The talk, and scandal, of the Season.”

  His mocking tone cut her sharply. She went utterly still, as a searing pain burst through her chest. Humiliation and betrayal threatened to crush her spirit, but Harriet struggled to think beyond the swirling emotions. He was angry and lashing out. And she was hardly blameless in this situation. Her rash, headstrong actions had put the children in danger and ruined Nathaniel’s plans to keep his family safe. But she had not known!

  She owed him an apology. She understood the importance of family, the instinct to protect those you loved. Yet it would take her a few moments to gather her thoughts, to somehow formulate the words. Harriet stared down at her fingers, twisting her hands restlessly against the front of her robe. Finally, she was ready to speak.

  But when she looked up, he was gone.

  Nathaniel felt a light sweat break out on his face as he stormed down the hall. He knew he could not have stayed one moment longer in that library without saying something far more hurtful to Harriet. For a few moments, shock, anger, and utter frustration had taken control of his tongue and he had needed to strike back.

  All his careful planning and cautious execution, gone in an instant. Ruined by a woman who thought she knew better than he, who was determined to see her own way in everything and damn the consequences to everyone else.

  True, it was not entirely her fault. She had jumped to some fairly outrageous conclusions, and by using those as the basis of making her decisions had ruined everything. His natural children! What kind of amoral creature did she believe him to be?

  But it was not her erroneous conclusions that upset Nathaniel so much. It was knowing that she had deliberately ignored his command to let the matter of the doll drop, that she had willingly disobeyed his orders. He had underestimated her will, had not realized that underneath she was such a terribly managing and stubborn female. And his lack of judgment had cost them all.

  Given the circumstances, Nathaniel knew his initial explosion of anger was justified, yet when he remembered Harriet’s pale face, staring so accusingly at him with those soul searching eyes, he felt sick down to the depths of his own soul. For the person he was most angry with, and disappointed in, was himself.

  He believed he had been so careful, so clever, when in truth, he had made a total muddle of it all. He had placed the children’s safety in jeopardy and hurt the feelings of a woman who was only guilty of caring too much and having too much character to let an injustice go unanswered.

  Cursing loudly, Nathaniel entered his room and slammed the bedchamber door, wondering how in God’s name he was going to fix this mess.

  Once back in her chamber, Harriet was uncertain how long she sat in reflected solitude. Her body felt tired and lethargic while her mind refused to allow itself any rest, any break from the myriad recriminations that kept rolling through her thoughts.

  She forced herself to climb into her bed. Her motions were automatic, as if her body were somehow detached from her mind. She lay on her back, pulled the covers to her chin and stared at the ceiling.

  Her eyes stung, her chest hurt. Harriet could feel the emotions choking her throat. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to release the pain, but the tears would not come.

  Frustrated, she clenched her hands into fists and punched at her pillows. The gesture only served to render her breathless. The pain did not ease at all.

  Harriet realized she would never sleep until she spoke with Nathaniel, until she had a chance to explain herself and make him understand her mistake was an honest one.

  Throwing off the covers, she leaped from the bed and put on her robe. Crouching low, she searched for her slippers, but could not locate them. Deciding it was not worth wasting the time, she left the room in bare feet.

  The cold stone floor barely penetrated her troubled mind. She was focused completely on the meeting to come. When she arrived at the other side of the castle, Harriet could see a light shining from beneath Nathaniel’s door. She hesitated, debating if she should knock, then realized it might be best not to bother in case Nathaniel refused her entry. Instead, she pushed the door open and boldly walked inside.

  A low growl sounded. Harriet looked to the area near the hearth and saw a great black mass of fur rise from the floor.

  “Hello, Brutus,” she said calmly.

  At her friendly greeting, the hound stretched out his back legs, then came padding across the room, tail wagging. She gave him a good rub behind the ears and was rewarded with several warm, wet licks on her hand.

  Nathaniel stalked to the door and held it open wider. “Out!”

  Oh, no, Harriet thought in dismay, he won’t even give me a chance to explain. She lifted her eyes beseechingly, then belatedly realized he was speaking to the dog.

  Nathaniel repeated the command. Brutus slowly moved forward. Head down, with a sulking posture and a mournful look, Brutus left the room. As he slunk past his master, Harriet thought she heard Nathaniel mutter something under his breath. It sounded like a single word. Traitor.

  Nathaniel had removed his scarlet robe and was dressed in a shirt, cravat, waistcoat, and jacket. Faint, silver moonlight filtered through the room, adding illumination to the few lit candles. In this setting Lord Avery looked every inch the haughty, arrogant, superior aristocrat, and Harriet marveled at herself for not seeing it sooner. Or perhaps she had known, but did not want to admit it.

  He was exactly the type of man she feared most, an opinionated male with a backbone of steel and a true heart. How impossibly ironic that she had fallen in love with him and, despite the deceit and the hurtful exchange of words, she loved him still.

  “I would ask only that you please listen to me,” Harriet began. “I know I have made a total muck of things and I know how angry you are, but you must know that I meant no harm.

  “I am rash and stubborn and once I set my mind on a course ’tis almost impossible for me to stray from it. ’Tis a failing, I know, and I promise I have learned a most valuable lesson. Never again will I be so quick to rush to judgment and action.”
>
  Harriet instinctively reached for his hand. He allowed it, but his fingers rested cold and unresponsive in hers.

  “I love the children and I acted on that love. I could not bear to see Jeanne Marie so distressed and upset, especially when I felt it was so easily within my power to alleviate her suffering.”

  Harriet scanned Nathaniel’s face for any sign he was listening to her, at least attempting to understand. His expression was stoic, his eyes hard, but at least he had not tossed her from the room like poor Brutus. Harriet forced herself to continue.

  “I know now that I should have consulted you before writing—”

  “And who knows what I would have told you? Certainly not the truth.” He frowned, then lifted her hand to his face and gently brushed his lips across her knuckles. “We share the blame equally, Harriet. My wariness and distrust and continuing uncertainty are also responsible for this mess. I was wrong to be so harsh with you earlier. My words were cruel and unforgiving, yet I humbly beg your pardon.”

  Harriet drew in a breath and tried to refocus her mind. He released her hand, then he smiled at her and Harriet felt her heart begin to melt.

  “It is true that I did recognize you when you first arrived at the castle,” he explained. “My first thought was that you must leave. Not because of any ludicrous scandal, but because you had the reputation of being an intelligent woman and I feared you would discover the truth.

  “Later, I found myself drawn to you. Your character, your strength, your alluring female charms.” His expression grew soft, tender. “Alas, I found I could not entertain the idea of you leaving me. Ever.”

  His eyes had never looked so dark. She felt as though she was drowning in their intensity. “Truly?”

  “Lord, yes.” He framed her jaw, bent his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Long and lingering. Fully and completely. The pressure of his mouth against hers made Harriet feel so dizzy it was a wonder she could remain standing.