He grinned. “Does it matter? It’s private.” He held out his hand. “Come in.”
She avoided looking at him as she took his arm, instead examining the house with far more interest than was necessary. It was a very pleasant house, with oak floors worn shiny with time and walls of buttery yellow. Fresh flowers stood in a tall vase at the back of the small hall. “It’s lovely,” she said as she removed her cloak.
Liam looked around as if just noticing it. “It is, isn’t it?” He hung up her cloak and put his hands on his hips. “What are you wearing, Bathsheba?”
She flushed, feeling his gaze wander down her figure. “This is my best dress.”
His dark brow arched. “And you thought it was suited to a seduction?”
“If I knew what was best suited to a seduction, we wouldn’t be here,” she pointed out. “What ought I to have worn?”
One corner of his mouth curled, and she instinctively braced herself. Liam looked like a devil when he smiled that way, and often she thought that was his true nature, allowed to shine through for a moment. “As little as possible under the cloak. Ideally, nothing at all. But never mind that now.” He turned and strode into the parlor, waving one arm for her to follow.
Grimly she went. “Nothing at all. Surely that’s more appropriate when two people are already lovers, assured that the assignation will occur.”
“The only reason we are not already lovers,” he replied, pouring two glasses of wine, “is that this is our first assignation.” He handed her a glass. “Or was that your way of saying you’ve reconsidered, and might not, upon further reflection, wish to proceed?”
No. The wine in her glass rippled as her hand shook. Even if she had had doubts, seeing him this way would have trampled them into dust. She had covertly admired Liam when he was at the newspaper office, his cravat pulled askew and his jacket unbuttoned as he snapped and barked at other employees. Now he wore neither jacket nor waistcoat, his neckcloth was simply knotted around his throat, and his attention was fixed on her as it never had been before.
Well—excepting that day she had made her indecent business proposal, when he agreed to make love to her.
She gulped some wine for courage. “If I didn’t wish to proceed, I wouldn’t have come all the way out here.”
“I am gratified to hear that.” His gaze raked over once again. “Now take off that appalling dress.”
She drew breath to scold him for insulting her clothing, then realized exactly what he’d said, and almost forgot to let out her breath. Very well. Right to the point; highly admirable. She set down her glass and reached for the fastenings.
“Just the gown, mind,” Liam said. “And not in any great rush. We have all night.” He seated himself in the middle of the sofa and began tugging his cravat loose.
Bathsheba cast a hateful glare on the lamps, burning brightly. The draperies were closed, but the door stood wide open. Defiantly she went and closed it.
Liam laughed as he flung aside his neckcloth, letting his shirt fall open at the collar. “There’s no one else in the house. I do have some idea how to conduct an illicit affair.”
“There was a draught,” she lied. She put down her reticule and took out her notebook.
“What’s that?”
“So I can record anything noteworthy.”
Liam laughed again. “If you feel the need to take any notes tonight, I will have failed abysmally. Leave it.”
She hesitated, but decided not to argue. She reached behind her back and pulled loose one of the tapes holding the dress closed.
“Where did you get that dress?” Liam slouched lower on the sofa, his arms spread wide of the back of it and his eyes glittering as he watched her.
“I made it. The velvet was a great indulgence.” She untied the second tape.
“Why brown?”
Her fingers paused. His tone made his distaste clear. “What color should I have chosen?”
“Blue,” he said softly. “Green. Even rose. You chose brown because it’s unobtrusive, didn’t you? Unremarkable. Not a color to seize anyone’s attention and command their interest.”
Bathsheba plucked at a sleeve before drawing it down her arm. “It cost less than those colors.”
“Hmm.” He watched as she struggled out of the gown, and that made her proceed all the slower. “Do you give no thought to how others perceive you?”
She huffed. “I know exactly how they do.”
“And it pleases you, that everyone sees a plain quiet mouse of a woman?”
Bathsheba paused as he echoed the very words she had been thinking. Were her thoughts more apparent than she knew? Danny never seemed to guess, and he had known her far longer than Liam had. “I cannot control what people think, so it hardly matters to me.” She finished stripping off the sleeves of her gown and untied the remaining tapes, so she could slide it down over her hips. Even though she was completely covered by her corset and petticoats, an unaccountable blush warmed her face as she stepped out of the gown and laid it aside.
“You can control what people think, far more than you believe,” he said thoughtfully. “Come here.”
She headed for the opposite end of the sofa, but he caught her hand and pulled her close. “Sit here,” he said, gently but firmly, and spread his knees. Bathsheba flushed as she realized he meant for her to sit between his legs.
Idiot, she told herself bracingly. You asked him to make love to you and you’re as skittish as a cat to think of sitting on his knee? She turned around and sat on the very edge of the sofa between his legs, hoping she hadn’t made a big mistake.
Chapter Four
Liam was glad she was facing away from him; she couldn’t see the amusement that must surely be visible on his face as she perched on the edge of the sofa, spine rigid and hands folded primly in her lap. Not a virgin, she’d said, but also not a woman of experience. He’d never known Bathsheba to be awkward or skittish, which showed how out of her depth she was tonight.
He put his hands on her waist and tugged her closer, until her bottom was snug against his groin. Hers was a very nicely rounded bottom, and Liam’s anticipation of the evening jumped an alarming amount. Aside from a catch in her breathing, she made no protest. He ran his palms up her arms. Bathsheba shivered. In her plain white undergarments, she looked younger and more innocent than ever. Thank God he knew she wasn’t—or at least, didn’t want to be. Liam shifted his weight and reached for the pins holding her dark hair in a simple knot.
“How would you like to be seen?” He drew out one pin and set it aside.
Bathsheba started at his touch. He saw her eyes flicker toward the pin, but she didn’t move. “As a decent, respectable woman.”
“Decent.” He drew out another pin. “What does that mean?”
“Honorable. Honest. Kind.”
“Ah.” One more pin and the long braid collapsed into his hands. He plucked at the end of it, noting with mild surprise how silky soft it was. Or perhaps he hadn’t paid enough attention to a woman’s hair before. “And respectable?”
“The opposite of this,” she said tartly, although he noticed a tremor in her shoulders as he leisurely loosened the plait.
“I am the only one who will see you like this,” he replied. “The only one who will ever know, if that’s what you desire.”
“Of course!” She seemed to get tenser as her braid unraveled in his hands.
Liam was somewhat distracted by how sensual it was, running his fingers through her hair. There were threads of bronze in it, and he caught the faintest whiff of lavender. “Whatever you wish,” he murmured.
“I wish—” She stopped and spoke in her normal voice, not a breathless rush. “I wish you would get on with it. Danny will be expecting me by a certain time, and it was a long drive here.”
“Where did you tell him you were going?”
“To the public assembly rooms where I usually collect gossip.”
A frown touched his brow. “You go there
alone?”
An impatient sigh; she was drifting back toward her usual take-charge-and-charge-onward demeanor. “No one wants to accompany me, Liam.”
“Do you wear that?” He glanced at the brown velvet dress, which really did make her look drab and insignificant.
“I told you, it’s my best dress.”
“Don’t wear it again,” he said brusquely, and then, to keep her from arguing, he leaned forward and feathered his lips down the nape of her neck.
He felt the shudder run through her; he caught the swift flexing of her forearms as her fingers clenched in her lap. He also felt a sharp zing of arousal through his own muscles. He didn’t intend to make love to her tonight, but his body was ready and eager. A little too eager, to be honest—already his plan, to spend several evenings stoking Bathsheba’s desire to a feverish pitch before actually taking her, seemed pointlessly restrained. She’d come here to be ravished, why shouldn’t he get on with it?
Liam didn’t quite know what to make of that. He was a healthy man with hearty desires. He certainly had expected that when the moment came, he would rise to it and give Bathsheba every pleasure she could imagine. But he also possessed a heretofore iron will and a strict personal discipline that seemed to have gone missing tonight.
Perhaps it was the way she had propositioned him, instead of the other way around. There was something very exciting and unexpected about a woman asking him to make love to her.
He pushed her hair forward so it spread over her shoulders, baring her back, and let his mouth roam her skin. She was warm and soft, and the touch of his tongue sent another shiver through her. Silently Liam smiled; it was damned arousing, the way she responded to the slightest thing. When he finally had her naked in his bed, she might well go up in flames.
“Not a virgin, you said,” he whispered in her ear. His fingertips skated up her arms, barely contacting her flesh. “When was your first time?”
Her head was thrown back, her breathing rapid. With her hair down and her drab dress off, she looked completely unlike her usual self. Liam didn’t know about decent or respectable, but she damned sure looked like a woman now.
“It was years ago.” Her voice was even softer than his. “A man who worked for my father. He was charming and I was…curious.”
“Did you enjoy it?” He ended the question by tracing a circle on the sensitive skin below her ear with his tongue. She jolted, but then slowly angled her head to the side, inviting him to repeat the action, so he did. “Did you?” he asked again.
“What? Oh—not much. It began pleasantly enough but he—he took none of the care…” Her voice trailed away in a quiet gasp as Liam caught her earlobe between his teeth.
“No care?”
She wet her lips. The pulse in her throat beat rapidly. “None of the care described in Fifty Ways to Sin. That was what caught my attention about them, you know—Constance’s lovers took such care for her pleasure. William took very little for mine, although I didn’t realize how little until later.”
William. Stupid blighter. “What did he do?”
Her flush deepened, and she opened her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“I would hate to make the same mistake,” Liam answered in the same low, languid voice. He ran his hands down her arms and wove his fingers through hers, lifting her hands to place them on his knees. It had the desired effect; she almost seemed to hold her breath. He slid his arms beneath hers and tugged at the string of her petticoat bodice. “Did he throw you on the sofa? Bend you over a table? Up against a wall?”
“No,” she said, although her voice was tighter than it had been. “He persuaded me to take him to my bedroom, and sit on the bed with him. It was all very lovely—like this—until he—he got on top of me. A few minutes later it was over. He pulled down my skirt, kissed me on the cheek and said he’d had a wonderful time but he had to get back to work. I hardly saw him after that.”
“The man should be shot,” said Liam with feeling. “What a bloody arse.”
She gave a short, nervous laugh. “I thought it was the most disappointing thing. I didn’t expect him to stay and marry me—I never did, so I cannot blame him for that—but I thought it would be more blissful. And last a bit longer.”
When he made love to her, it would last as long as she could endure. The petticoat bodice had come undone; he slid it down her arms to uncover the corset, one of the short workmanlike versions that came off in a trice. And he noted that she put her hands back on his knees without prompting once he’d got them both off her. Oh yes, this was going splendidly.
“Were there any others?”
She hesitated. “Are you going to tell me about all your previous lovers?”
Liam grinned. “If you want to hear it. But not tonight. Tonight I am learning you.”
Another hesitation. “How many nights will there be?”
“I can’t think how to do this properly in less than three or four nights,” he said in mock indignation, taking his hands off her. “Unless you want William’s version of seduction—that will only take, as you noted, a few minutes to accomplish.”
“No!” She shook her head, her loose hair flying against his chest. “This way is…much better, so far.” He grinned behind her; that last bit was so like Bathsheba, letting him know she was still reserving judgment. “There was one other. After Danny came home from the war, missing his arm, we were in very tight straits.” She paused, then went on with the air of forcing out the words. “We didn’t have enough to eat at times. We had lost my father’s shop, my parents were dead of consumption, and then Danny lost his navy pay and his ability to work. It took him months to recover from his injury.
“Henry was a grocer. He had three children who needed a mother, and we got on well. He—he proposed to me. It would have been a very businesslike marriage,” she quickly added. “I would have helped run his shop and raise his children, and he would have supported me and my brother. We were engaged for a month, and a few times we…” She lifted one shoulder, pronouncing silent but brutal judgment on hapless Henry’s lovemaking. “I had hoped it would be better, even wonderful. That would have made me look forward to the marriage, some source of pleasure I might gain. It wasn’t awful. I would call it…perfunctory.” She paused and Liam realized he was scowling. No wonder Bathsheba adored Fifty Ways to Sin. Lady Constance never had so much as a perfunctory tea hour, let alone a boring or bland romp in bed.
“I think he must have been as disappointed as I was,” Bathsheba went on, very quietly. “I could tell his interest in the match waned after we began sharing a bed. In truth, I broke off with him because I thought I would rather starve than become the property of a man who didn’t want me.”
“I can’t blame you.” He put his lips to her shoulder, now bare as he slowly worked her shift off. All Bathsheba’s clothing was simple and easy to remove, which he appreciated. “I would have left him, too.”
A bubble of laughter burst out of her. “Why?”
“If the first few times in bed are dull and unexceptional, how much worse will it get in time? Any man who doesn’t put his best effort forth at the very beginning… Well, I fear he’s a lazy, no-good sort of fellow, and I would never trust my personal satisfaction to such a man.”
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide. Up close, he realized her eyes were as richly brown as her hair, mahogany with glints of copper. “Danny worried I’d made a terrible mistake. Henry was a respectable man, with a prosperous shop…”
And Liam would have bet his ownership of the London Intelligencer that Daniel Crawford hadn’t thought for one moment of his sister’s sensual appetites or feelings. “I’m sure he wanted you to be provided for, and I can’t fault him for that. But I certainly wouldn’t trust my brother to make the best decisions for me, so I applaud you for not blindly following his advice in that case.”
Bathsheba stared at him, a startled innocence to her expression. She had not expected him to say anything like that. �
��Well—yes—I was proven right, in time, but then, you know, Danny was quite worried…”
“Yes,” he interrupted, “but if you’d married Henry, you would never be here, right now.” She closed her mouth, her eyes still round and unblinking. “Do you still want to be here?” he whispered. “With me? Or would you rather be with a solid, respectable husband like Henry?”
“Here,” she breathed. “With you.”
Liam gave her his most wicked smile. “Excellent. Stand up.”
Wariness sprang into her face, but she stood up, grasping at her clothing when it sagged toward the floor. Liam brushed away her hands and peeled the petticoat, stays, and shift down, kicking them away. Bare except for her stockings and shoes, Bathsheba’s face was bright red, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Come,” he said, pulling her back, this time facing him. She obeyed his urging and straddled him on her knees, her small breasts right in front of his face, her feminine mound tantalizingly near his groin.
For a moment the thought flashed through Liam’s mind that he could undo three buttons on his trousers and be inside her right now. It’s what she wants, whispered a little devil in his ear. It’s what you want, too… Take her now and teach her seduction next time…
He cleared his throat to drown it out. “Put your arms around my neck.”
“Why?”
He sighed, and she bit her lip. “So you won’t fall off.”
“Oh.” Gingerly she put her hands on his shoulders, hesitated, then linked her fingers behind his neck. His hair caught in her grip for a moment, and he felt a renewed surge of lust. Would she grab his hair and hold on to him if he laid her back on the sofa and rode her right now? Would she scream and pull, urging him to be rough and primitive?
God. He was losing his mind. Four or five times? He’d be a madman by the end of tonight. He cupped her hips in both hands and pulled her right against him, her nether curls tight against his erection, separated only by his trousers. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.
The Secret of My Seduction (Scandals Book 7) Page 3