How to Tempt an Earl_Raven Club

by Tina Gabrielle

  “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  She shrugged a slender shoulder. “I think you’re right and the wine has loosened my tongue.”

  “I promised myself not to touch you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek. She’d forgotten to put on her gloves and he was happy for it. He wanted to feel her hands on him. On his naked skin. She grazed the divot in his chin and came perilously close to his lips. He clenched his fists at his sides before he grasped her hand and pressed a kiss against the center of her palm. When she didn’t pull away, he sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “I think I do want you to kiss me.”

  His eyes never left hers. “Grace…”

  “Maybe I want you to kiss me now. I’m wondering why it feels so different with you than with another’s.”

  “What?”

  “You know I’m not a new debutante. I’ve had my fair share of private garden strolls. I’ve even been kissed.” She looked at him pointedly. “Before you.”

  “By whom?”

  “Is that important?”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “I already said it took place in a garden.”

  “No,” Ian said, suddenly furious. “Where were you kissed?”

  She raised a finger to trace her full bottom lip. “On the mouth.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Your kisses made me feel strange and shivery and his—”

  There was only so much a man could take. He pulled her into his arms and took her mouth. She tasted like fine wine, heady and tantalizing. She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, stealing his breath, his reason. She sighed into the kiss, clutched his shirt, and urged him to deepen it. His tightly leashed control snapped at the intoxicating essence of the woman in his arms. His tongue plundered her mouth, and when she eagerly met each thrust with her own, he growled in approval and tightened his hold. Her breasts brushed his chest and he wanted to lift her skirts, plunge inside her, and take her on the vestibule floor. He was determined to erase the thought of any other man’s kiss that might be in her mind. He struggled with his need to mark her, possess her, make her his.

  He picked her up and pressed her against the wall by the door. She didn’t protest but squirmed against him to get closer. His hand found the folds in her cloak and slipped inside to cup a breast. Soft, plump, it filled his palm perfectly. His fingers grazed over the crest, and he felt her nipple harden beneath the silk.

  She moaned then, a sexy little sound that fueled his lust even more. “Oh, yes. Definitely different.” She sighed against his lips.

  He raised his head. “Better?” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “Much.”

  Their breath mingled for a heartbeat before he lowered his head to recapture her lips. She met him halfway.

  Her whimpers were driving him wild. Never before had he ached so badly to possess a woman. He lowered his head, nipped her ear, and trailed kisses down her throat. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. He kept going, kissing the swell of her breasts above her tight bodice. He worked his fingers inside the fabric, slowly delving until the tip of his finger grazed a nipple. It hardened beneath his touch, and she gasped.

  “Oh, yes,” she moaned.

  He grew harder in his trousers.

  Just then, the door opened all the way and a woman’s voice pierced his haze of desire.

  “Ian!”

  Ian’s head snapped up to see his mother and another woman standing in the doorway. Good God. If he hadn’t been so consumed with lust by the enticing woman in his arms he would have heard their approach. He pushed Grace behind him and hoped she didn’t stumble to the floor. He knew she’d come to her senses when she gasped and clutched a fistful of his coat from behind.

  “Mother. What are you doing here?”

  “Our carriage broke down on our way home from Lady Jersey’s ball. Lady Taddlesworth is accompanying me. I thought it good luck we were stranded in front of your home, Ian. But perhaps I caught you at an inappropriate time.”

  Lady Taddlesworth’s face was grim as she took in the scene, and Ian experienced a disquieting alarm.

  “Is that Miss Ashton behind you? What are you doing here, young lady, in a bachelor’s home in the middle of the night?” the older woman asked.

  Grace stepped from behind Ian. Her cloak was undone, her hair disheveled, and her lips moist and swollen from his kisses.

  Ian’s mother looked at him pointedly. “A word alone, Ian. Now.”

  …

  She was going to be sick.

  “The carriage will take you home, Grace.”

  Seated stiffly on the bench, Grace’s stomach roiled with anxiety. Ian stood outside the carriage, a frown marring his features as he looked at her. His mother and Lady Taddlesworth were waiting in the drawing room for Ian to return.

  Of all the rotten luck. One minute she was in Ian’s arms, blissfully aware of the sensual feelings he was arousing in her, and the next it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.

  “Perhaps I should be present while you speak with—”

  “No. I’ll take care of this.”

  “How?”

  “Leave it to me.”

  Clearly, he didn’t understand. “I’m ruined!” she cried out. “Lady Castleton is your mother, and you may hold sway with her, but not Lady Taddlesworth. Your sisters call her a dragon, Ian.”

  “I’ve handled worse situations at the club and more difficult people.”

  “You don’t understand. Lady Taddlesworth is a notorious gossip and holds considerable power. The scandal will be horrendous. No one will have me now.”

  “Don’t talk about that.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” She shoved him aside and leaped out of the carriage just in time to retch, emptying the contents of her stomach into a bush. Rather than leave, the stubborn man held her hair and rubbed her back until the last of the spasms had passed. She felt too miserable to be embarrassed.

  Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a handkerchief and wiped her brow and face and handed it to her. She took several deep breaths until her stomach settled and she’d regained her composure.

  He helped her back into the carriage. “Please go home. I’ll send word to you tomorrow.”

  Ian closed the door, and she rested her head back on the padded squabs and shut her eyes. She heard the squeak of the driver’s seat, then the carriage started moving.

  She feared the swaying would worsen her condition, but it did not. By the time the carriage pulled up to her home, a cold drizzle was falling, washing out the night in a dreary blur that matched her mood. Grace crept in the back door and trudged up the stairs. Her father’s bedchamber door was open and dark. At first, she thought he must be out at one of the clubs, but then a light snore alerted her to his sleeping form in an armchair by an unlit fireplace.

  “Father?” She walked into the room and halted by the chair.

  He snorted, then awoke. “Grace?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Why are you sleeping in your chair?”

  “I called for Stevens. He must not have heard me.”

  She helped him to his feet. Alcohol and tobacco wafted from him in waves. She swallowed hard.

  If her father wondered why she was fully dressed and wandering the halls in the middle of the night, he stayed silent. She was assailed by a terrible sense of bitterness. Her awful night, combined with his sorry state, made fresh tears well her eyes.

  She tugged off his jacket and waistcoat, slipped his cravat from around his neck, then helped him into bed. She thought he’d instantly resume snoring, but he surprised her by grasping her hand.

  His eyes watered in his red face. “Ah, Grace. I’m sorry. I never meant for this. It’s just that…that I miss your mother terribly.”

  A raw and primitive mix of emotions rushed through h
er—sympathy, protectiveness…even resentment. They left her drained and exhausted. For the first time, she understood why the baron drowned his sorrows in a bottle. She felt bereft and desolate, without hope.

  He touched her cheek, and her anguish almost overcame her control. She wanted to sob for her parent and for all she’d lost in one reckless night.

  Her arrangement with Ian was supposed to aid her plight. Instead, she’d made it much, much worse. She waited for her father to close his eyes before she returned to her room. She climbed into her bed, fully clothed, and cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You have to marry her.” The Countess of Castleton spoke in a low, but firm tone. Her hands were folded in her lap as she sat across from her son.

  Ian admired his mother’s outward show of calm, but he wasn’t fooled. Beneath the cool, proper facade, she was bloody furious. “Don’t be unreasonable, Mother.”

  “Unreasonable? The girl is ruined.”

  He shifted in his chair. Lady Castleton, his mother, sat across from him in his study. Cold. Reserved. Judgmental. “I just explained why Miss Ashton was here.” After weighing his options, he’d decided to tell her the true reason Grace was at his home.

  “I thought you retained the services of a family friend, specifically Lord Winton, not a gently bred lady to refresh your manners. The daughter of a baron, no less!”

  “You’re the one who insists I attend Lady Crowley’s ball.”

  “You cannot possibly think to blame me for this scandal.”

  “I did what was most efficient to ensure my success at the ball.”

  Her eyes narrowed, the first true sign of her fury. “Efficient! Forget Lady Crowley’s ball. I no longer want, nor expect, you to attend. Your proper entry into Society will be at your wedding.”

  He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his leather chair. “No one needs to know about tonight.”

  She looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “It’s too late. I saw her. Lady Taddlesworth saw her.” The woman was seated in the drawing room waiting for mother and son to speak in Ian’s study before they joined her.

  Meanwhile, Ian had summoned another carriage to take the two women home. They couldn’t leave fast enough in his opinion. His thoughts kept returning to Grace. He could imagine her torment. They’d been caught in an erotic embrace by not one, but two Society matrons. She’d also drunk too much wine and would no doubt feel the ill effects tomorrow.

  What was she thinking now? She shouldn’t be alone, shouldn’t have to handle tonight’s troublesome events by herself.

  Ian’s gaze narrowed. “Lady Taddlesworth is your friend. Ensure her silence.”

  The countess gave a humorless laugh. “No one can ensure anyone’s silence, least of all Lady Taddlesworth’s. She is preparing Ellie and Olivia for their upcoming Seasons so that I could eventually go to my sister in Bath. Lady Taddlesworth is a paragon of propriety and well-respected in Society. She would not be able to keep this secret, even if she truly desired to do so, which she undoubtedly will not.”

  Ian’s mind spun as he tried to negotiate a way out of this mess. “Miss Ashton wasn’t here unchaperoned.”

  “Oh?”

  “My housekeeper is present.”

  “Your housekeeper?”

  “Yes. A widow. Surely that’s sufficient. Tell Lady Tattletale that she is Grace’s aunt and her chaperone.”

  “It’s Lady Taddlesworth, and no, she will not believe such an outrageous tale. It is well after midnight. There is only one reason a young, unmarried lady would be present in a bachelor’s home. Not only is a housekeeper not a proper chaperone, but you forget that Miss Ashton was caught in your heated embrace.”

  Damn. If Ian hadn’t been so distracted by Grace, he wouldn’t have opened the front door, but would have gone out the servant’s entrance. He would have heard the carriage, their approaching footsteps, heard something.

  At Ian’s silence, she continued. “As the earl, it is your duty to secure the succession by marrying well and producing the next generation of Castleton heirs.”

  “I had not planned to marry anyone,” he said irritably.

  She ignored him. “I had hoped for you to wed the Duke of Desmond’s daughter, but I am willing to settle with the daughter of a baron.”

  “It is not your choice,” he said, his voice terse.

  Her lips thinned, her color high. “Oh, but it is. You may recover from such gossip, but Miss Ashton never will. She will be ostracized by Society. Are you that cruel?”

  He pictured Grace moments before they were discovered. Her full lips glossy, her blue eyes glazed as she looked up at him and brazenly asked if he would kiss her. Her soft, warm body as she pressed her curves against him.

  Christ. He’d wanted to do much more than simply kiss her and touch her. He’d fiercely wanted her naked and writhing beneath him.

  He still did.

  But Grace was a true lady, and she deserved to be treated as one. She’d met his sisters, and from their brief encounter, she’d learned things about them that he’d never known. Ellie hated the piano but liked to read. She was more like him than he’d realized. Olivia disliked singing but wanted to ride. Maybe she was more like Matthew who always loved to recklessly race his horses. Right to the end of his life. Because of that chance meeting, Grace had changed from having to help him to wanting to help him succeed. Could he throw her to the wolves?

  An unfamiliar, heavy feeling constricted in his chest. He knew firsthand how cruel Society could be. But to marry?

  “It’s not just Miss Ashton who will suffer the consequences of social ruin,” the countess said. “Ellie and Olivia will be harmed by your actions tonight.”

  “You go too far. A scandal will not taint them, only myself and Miss Ashton.”

  Her eyes flashed with a sheen of purpose. “Don’t be difficult. What of rumors of your involvement with your brother’s death? You may not think I’m aware, or that they are of concern now, but they are.”

  Ian froze. He couldn’t believe she was dragging Matthew’s death into their conversation. “Are you suggesting you believe the malicious gossip of magpies?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. The talk, combined with tonight’s gossip, will ensure wagging tongues follow your sisters at every Society function for years. What respectable family would want their son to marry into ours? You must think of your sisters.”

  His gut twisted at the cold reality of her words. Matthew’s death was a dark specter that haunted Ian. Who would believe he had tried to convince his brother not to ride the treacherous Devil’s Leap track that day?

  Ian shut out the hurt and felt the familiar armor encase his heart. He was a businessman, and he forced himself to analyze the decision before him as if he were adding a new roulette table or additional boxing ring to the club.

  As his wife, Grace’s title and reputation would help launch his sisters properly into Society. They wouldn’t need Lady Taddlesworth’s assistance. Ian disliked the widow on sight. Grace’s continued tutelage would allow him to polish his rough edges and ensure he acted the perfect gentleman when required. Her lack of dowry didn’t dissuade him.

  Then there was Grace herself. He’d get to bed her nightly. Possess her body until his crazed need for her subsided.

  But what of the Raven Club?

  Grace had made her position clear. She’d never marry a man who owned a casino. His mother would agree with her, but despite his mother’s demands to dispose of the Raven Club, he had no intention of doing so. He would live life on his own terms after the wedding.

  He could tell Grace he’d sell the Raven, but not search for a buyer. Whether he went through with a sale or not, after tonight, Grace did not have a choice.

  She must marry him or face ruin.

  His jaw hardened in determination, and he met his mother’s gaze. “I shall speak with the baron tomorrow.”

  “Good. You must arrange for a special license. It mu
st be handled quickly. Meanwhile, I’ll tell Lady Taddlesworth that I knew of your secret engagement. I can only hope it ensures her silence until the wedding.”

  The more he thought of the arrangement, the more convinced he became that the benefits outweighed the detriments. He would continue to live as he always had.

  A wife, even one as tempting as Grace, would change nothing.

  …

  As soon as the carriage whisked away Ian’s mother and Lady Taddlesworth, Ian headed for the Raven Club. Brooks had been overseeing the club while Ian took his lessons with Grace, and he needed to speak with him now.

  Ian spotted Brooks by the roulette table and quickly summarized the night’s events.

  Brooks shot him an incredulous look after learning everything. “You really did it this time.”

  Ian watched a group of wealthy men place bets. The roulette wheel spun and Ian marveled at how much life was like gambling. The odds were always stacked against you.

  The wheel stopped. “Twenty-three black,” his croupier called out. All those crowded around the table let out a groan as the croupier collected their lost bets. A small fortune. The club would do well tonight.

  “I didn’t have a choice. My mother and her acquaintance, a gossip, discovered Grace and me together.”

  “You always have a choice.”

  “Should I have let the lady be ruined?”

  “Why care?”

  Brooks was watching him closely, too closely. “You’re right,” Ian said. “I’ve always said no one can force my hand, not even my mother. My father, the old bastard, had tried and failed.” Brooks knew about Ian’s past and how his father had attempted to marry Ian off to a simple-minded country neighbor.

  “Then why agree to marry the lady?”

  “Blackmail by guilt.”

  “Your mother blackmailed you?”

  “In essence. My mother pointed out that the talk of Matthew’s death, combined with the inevitable scandal from tonight, would harm my sisters’ chances for future happiness.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day. Ian Swift coerced. It’s always been you doing the persuading.”

  He knew what Brooks was referring to. Ian was a ruthless businessman and had often used information from the Raven Club’s clientele to his advantage.