Seduced By His Touch

by Tracy Anne Warren

  She was finishing off a small dish of fresh strawberries when a brief knock sounded on the door that connected her bedchamber to Jack’s. Before she could answer, the door opened and he walked inside.

  Striding across, he dropped into the chair opposite and poured himself some tea. Her maid always provided an extra cup for just such an occurrence, even if he’d never before put one of them to use. But there was a first time for everything, she supposed. “Please, help yourself,” she invited with a tinge of sarcasm.

  His lips curved as he reached for a slice of toast. “I wasn’t sure if I’d find you awake. I thought perhaps you might sleep longer.”

  “No. I have things to do today. Can’t lie abed indefinitely.”

  His eyes twinkled, as though he were thinking about disagreeing with the remark, but he let it pass. Silently, he ate his toast. Finished, he reached across and liberated the remaining rasher of bacon from her plate, devouring the fried meat in a few quick bites.

  “Would you like me to ring and have another breakfast brought up?” she asked, curious to find him demolishing what was left of hers.

  He shook his head. “This will do.” Using his napkin to wipe his hands free of crumbs and bacon grease, he poured more tea, then relaxed back in his chair. “So,” he asked at length, “what’s on your schedule for today?”

  Her brows arched. “Afternoon calls, I believe. Followed by the park, then the Putnams’ dinner party tonight.”

  “That’s right. I’d forgotten about the Putnams. Pleasant people, though a tad on the stuffy side.” He paused, tapping a finger against his lips. “What would you think about sending our regrets and doing something else entirely?”

  Her brows arched even higher. “I’d think you’d put something stronger than tea in that cup, that’s what.”

  He chuckled. “The day is beautiful, excellent for a drive to Richmond.”

  She stared. “For whom?”

  “For us.”

  “You want me to accompany you to Richmond? Why?”

  “Must there be a reason?”

  “Yes, I rather think there must.”

  Spinning his teacup in a circle against its saucer, he took a long moment before responding. “I just thought it might be nice to lay down the gauntlets for a day. Our truce is rather untruce-like most of the time. I think both of us could use a brief armistice.”

  “You make it sound as if we’re at war,” she defended.

  His piercing gaze met hers. “Are we not? What do you say, Grace?”

  What she should say was a firm and unequivocal no. Instead she found herself longing to throw off the yoke of tension between them, even if it was only for a day. Perhaps that’s how he felt too.

  “I ought to refuse. But yes, all right.”

  He grinned, his good humour and charm pouring over her like a warm breeze.

  I know I’m going to regret this, she thought.

  Shooing him out of the room, she rang for her maid.

  Jack honestly didn’t know why he’d dreamed up this excursion, but gazing over at Grace now, where she sat beside him in the phaeton, he was glad he had.

  She looked lovely, dressed in a lilac-and-white-striped gown, a chip straw bonnet perched at a saucy angle on her upswept, fiery locks. She’d always been pretty, but over the last few months, she’d blossomed into a truly irresistible beauty.

  Perhaps the credit should be given to her stylish new wardrobe, since, with the assistance of his mother and sisters, she never appeared in less than the latest fashions. There were many days, in fact, that she could have stepped off the pages of La Belle Assemble itself.

  But he also knew that her increased loveliness stemmed from a newfound source of inner confidence—her outer beauty growing in tandem with an ever-deepening ability to hold her own in Society. No longer did she try to conceal her height as she used to; the days of sitting in the back of the room were gone for good. Now, when she met people, she did so with aplomb, her shoulders square, her chin held high.

  Of course, there was also her sensuality—and mayhap therein lay the true wellspring of her beauty. She’d come a long way from the shy young woman who’d once trembled at the thought of a stolen kiss.

  Now when he came to her bed, she met him with bold assurance, accepting his caresses and returning them with inventive ones of her own. She’d taken him by surprise the first time she’d initiated their lovemaking—pleasing him more than he could imagine. Since then…well, she never left him any cause for complaint.

  Without his quite knowing how or when, Grace had become a mature, sensual, alluring woman—one who would surely tempt any man.

  He frowned at the thought, his hands tightening slightly against the reins as the horses gamboled along the turnpike.

  For weeks, he’d been waiting to tire of her. Every day he awakened expecting to find some lessening of his interest, to discover the seeds of disillusionment and ennui growing inside him. But then night would arrive and he’d want her all over again. If anything, he desired her more now than when he’d first taken her—although frankly he didn’t know how that was physically possible. And the emotional distance between them was no deterrent. In some ways, it merely encouraged his needs, leaving him craving more than her body but her heart as well.

  He’d possessed it once under false pretences. Was it wrong of him to want it back? Perhaps that was the reason he’d suggested today’s outing, so he could see how she felt when they weren’t in company, or in bed.

  Glancing over again, he saw her lift her face to the sun, a slow smile moving over her cherry red lips. His heart took an extra beat, a swell of longing pumping in his chest. Shunting the sensation away, he forced his gaze ahead.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  He smiled and darted another glance her way. “As I said, perfect weather.” A light wind teased the ribbons tied under her chin, making him want to give them a tug and set the little hat free. “Shall we go faster?”

  “Faster than this? Is that wise?”

  A grin creased his face. “Of course not, which is exactly the reason we should.”

  With a smart flick of the reins, he urged the team into a run.

  Crying out in surprise, she grabbed the side of the phaeton. And then she laughed. High and light and adorably girlish. When their gazes met, he saw that her eyes had turned a vibrant, bluish-grey—a shade he realized he hadn’t seen in ages.

  Several hours later, Grace was laughing still, as she and Jack strolled along one of the many paths that led through Richmond Park.

  In every direction, nature thrived; the grounds were composed of majestic hills with breathtaking views, serene ponds and woods full of magnificent old trees bedecked in regal cloaks of verdant green. But it was the wildflowers she loved best, their colourful heads dotting the landscape like thousands of tiny jewels.

  Obviously, Jack had known she would enjoy the park—which, to her begrudging delight, she had. Just as she’d enjoyed the phaeton ride and a brief exploration of the shops and businesses that lined the Thames-side of Richmond itself. Despite her initial hesitation over the excursion, the day had turned out to be one of the best she’d known in recent memory.

  If only we could remain here like this indefinitely, she thought. If only this day away could last forever.

  Brought back to reality by her foolish, wistful musings, her humour dimmed a bit. She repressed a sigh. “I suppose we ought to be getting back.”

  “Oh, surely not,” he said. Slipping his pocket watch from his waistcoat, he opened the gold lid to check the hour. “Why, it’s barely six. Plenty of time left yet to explore. In fact, why don’t we walk around a little more, then have an early dinner here in Richmond? I know just the inn.”

  “I suppose we could, but I—”

  “—will be absolutely famished if you insist on waiting until we return home,” he interrupted.

  “I’m used to dining late. Town hours, remember?”

  “Yes, but we usually
have nuncheon and we missed ours today. As a result, I fear I’m coming down peaked.”

  She gazed into his healthy, youthful face. “You don’t look peaked.”

  “I am. Inside. You should hear my stomach crying out in agony even as we speak.” A roguish smile spread across his mouth.

  She laughed again, her resolve crumbling.

  As oddly malleable today as a handful of clay, she soon found herself falling in with his plan. Strolling at a leisurely pace, they spent another half hour in the park before returning to their carriage. In peaceable harmony, he drove them toward the inn.

  When they arrived, the innkeeper showered them with a voluble welcome, the round-bellied proprietor with his toothsome smile and tufted grey eyebrows doing everything in his power to make them feel at their ease. Puffing out his massive chest with pride, he showed them to his “best private parlour.” Promising to return soon with a bottle of his finest wine and most delectable hot repast, he withdrew, closing the door at his back.

  The moment he departed, Grace became abruptly aware of the fact that she and Jack were alone—a curious sensation, given the fact that they’d been alone together all day. Not to mention the fact that they were married and shared both a house and a bed.

  Preposterous.

  Still, until now, their day had been spent in public settings, the world’s watchful gaze conferring an unspoken restraint of sorts. Now that restraint was gone.

  Suddenly in need of space, she crossed to the window and peered down into the inn yard below. As she watched, nimble-footed hostlers ran to and fro, while off in the distance the mighty Thames curved in a steady, relentless flow.

  Determined, unchangeable, unforgiving.

  Am I those things as well? She wondered.

  A tremor skipped across her skin as Jack drew to a halt at her side, then again when he curved a palm over her shoulder. Bending, he pressed his mouth against her neck. Her lips parted, eyelids falling closed, while pleasure sang a sweet song in her blood.

  Suddenly, a brisk knock came at the door, followed by a click of the lock, as the innkeeper and a pair of maids bustled inside. Immediately, she pulled away from Jack, relieved by the interruption.

  He cast her an inquiring glance but made no comment while the table was prepared for their meal. He and the innkeeper carried on a lively conversation, Jack pronouncing the wine an excellent choice, much to the beaming approval of the other man.

  And then they were alone once more, the table nearly groaning beneath the plentitude of the offerings before them.

  Sliding into a seat opposite, Jack took up a plate and served her first. She couldn’t help but notice that he chose only her favourites, including a large spoonful of cheesy scalloped potatoes that made her mouth water in anticipation.

  He served himself next, carving from both a rare roast beef and a tender boiled ham, adding dollops of coarse grain mustard and freshly grated horseradish alongside. With a selection of accompaniments taking up the remainder of the space on his plate, he poured wine for them both, then dug into the meal.

  She half expected him to mention the embrace they’d shared at the window. Instead, he launched into an amusing tale about a boyhood prank he and Cade had once perpetrated in church that soon had her relaxed and laughing again.

  While they talked, food disappeared from her plate and wine from her glass, which he kept replenishing at regular intervals.

  Finally she stopped him with a hand over the top of her goblet, giving him a firm shake of her head. “No more. I’ve had too much as it is.”

  He peered at the bottle and the two inches of wine left inside. “A shame not to finish this, seeing it’s our host’s best vintage and all.”

  “You drink it,” she said, holding firm to her decision. “Besides, I remember all too well what happened the last time you plied me with alcohol and the sore head I got the next morning. I have no interest in repeating the experience.”

  “That was brandy, a far more potent spirit. But if you’re sure…”

  After a last questioning look, he tipped the remainder of the Bordeaux into his glass, filling it nearly to the rim. Lifting the beverage, he took a long swallow. “As I recall, you seemed to enjoy that night—and the next morning as well, once you got over your initial discomfort.”

  For a moment, she didn’t know if he was referring to the loss of her virginity on their first night together or the results of all the liquor she’d consumed that evening. Either way, his statement was unerringly accurate. In spite of her trepidation then, she’d more than enjoyed that first night. She’d love it and him. She’d been so happy. So innocently full of hope, and the joy of simply being together.

  But now she knew his actions for the lies they’d been.

  Only his touch hadn’t been a lie, she realized. In that, he’d never deceived her.

  “Yes, well, those days are long gone,” she said, laying down her fork.

  Reaching over, he captured her hand. “They don’t have to be.”

  Her gaze went to his. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that we have the power to do anything we want, to be the people we each wish to be. I’m tired of this estrangement, Grace. Are you not weary of it too?”

  Is that what today has been about? Suddenly it all made sense.

  She looked away. “But I thought you were content with things as they are.”

  “I’m content having you in my bed, though content hardly seems an adequate description for the passion we share. I want more. I want you. Can you not find some way to forgive me? Even a little?”

  Her heart boomed in her chest, blood throbbing with near pain between her temples. “You want my forgiveness?”

  “Yes. And I want you as my wife. My real wife. Can we not try again? Start over anew?”

  For a long moment, she stared, not quite comprehending what he’d just said. Yanking her hand from his grasp, she shoved back her chair and stood up. Hugging her arms around her waist, she paced several steps away.

  She didn’t know how to respond or what to do, stunned by the declaration he’d just made. She’d assumed he would be glad to see her leave when the Season came to an end. That he would savour the freedom of their separation, since it would allow him to return to his bachelor life and his bachelor ways. Instead, he was telling her the exact opposite. That he wanted her to remain. That he wanted to make their marriage work.

  I hate him, don’t I? She thought wildly. All she needed to do was say those words aloud, and it would all be over. But did she want it to be over? And did she still truly wish to leave?

  A shiver racked her frame despite the summertime warmth inside the room. He’d already destroyed her faith in him once, crushing her hopes and her heart so that she’d had to close off a piece of herself in order to survive. Could she afford to lower her defences again? Did she dare risk letting him in? Of trusting him despite his past deceits?

  With conflict warring in her breast, she paced forward and away. Forward and away again.

  On one of her passes, he reached out and caught her hand, drawing her to a halt. Their gazes met, his eyes a deep, percipient blue.

  Silence beat like wings between them.

  “I just don’t know,” she whispered, her voice tight with uncertainty.

  Long seconds passed, then he nodded. “Well, while you’re deciding, why don’t you do it over here?” With a gentle tug, he began towing her forward.

  “Jack,” she reproached in a soft voice. “This won’t resolve anything.”

  “Maybe not,” he stated as he settled her onto his lap, “but we’ll both enjoy ourselves in the meantime.”

  His mouth met hers in a languid mating, fervid and fresh, the power of his kiss never failing to steal her breath and ignite her desire. She could have put up some token effort to resist, but what was the point? He would have her eventually, and she would be eager to let him. In this there were no denials and no regrets.

  Suddenly aching to ma
ke love, she kissed him harder, sinking her fingers into his hair so she could hold his head steady for her own intense, carnal claiming.

  He was panting when they came up for air. “We may have our share of troubles,” he said, fitting his palm over her breast for a tantalizing massage. “But we always get along perfectly in bed. What do you say we go find one?”

  “Y-you mean now? Here?” she gasped, her own breath far from steady.

  His fingers found her nipple and stroked her flesh, so that it beaded into a sharp, aching peak. “I’m sure the innkeeper would be happy to oblige us with his best accommodation.”

  “B-but what about d-driving back to Town? Won’t our absence be noticed?”

  “Let them notice. It’s not as if there’s anything wrong with Lord and Lady John Byron spending a night away.”

  Realizing he was right, she nodded her agreement and kissed him hard again.

  In reply, he ravished her mouth, opening her lips to take her with his tongue the way he would soon be taking her with his body.

  Suddenly, he pulled back. “I’d better go see about that room while I still have enough blood left in my brain to think.”

  In answer, she skimmed her lips over his cheek and temple, pausing to kiss him behind his ear in a spot she knew drove him mad.

  “Stop that,” he admonished in a stern voice. “Or I’ll be taking you right here in this chair.”

  Smiling, she swirled her tongue over the area, feeling him stiffen beneath her as she parted her lips for a kiss that would likely leave a mark. After suckling for a long moment, she pulled away just enough to blow against the wet skin, while below her fingers went to the hard bulge of his erection and gave a gliding stroke.

  His hips arched, hands lowering to lift her off his lap. “Then again, maybe you want me to take you in this chair.”

  Pushing her skirts up, he spread her legs apart so she straddled his thighs. Tearing open the buttons on his falls, he slid his knees wider and her as well.