The Gentleman's Seduction

by Lauren Smith

  “He’s an awfully big fellow and—” Martin hedged.

  “Martin, if you come over here right now, I will come to you tonight.” She made her tone quiet but very clear.

  His eyes widened. “What, tonight?”

  “Yes.” She’d made the decision earlier that day when she’d seen him at breakfast. She wanted to find the man she laughed with, shopped with, swapped books with.

  “If I touch an elephant…” He cleared his throat. “Then…”

  “Yes,” she repeated. “Now stop being so frightened.”

  Martin approached her and the beast, eyeing the elephant nervously.

  “Elephants are gentle,” the Indian handler assured him.

  “My experience tells me otherwise,” Martin muttered. He put an arm around Livvy’s waist, and with the other hand, he touched the elephant’s trunk. He tensed when the elephant swayed again and made a soft trumpetlike sound.

  “Take off your glove,” Livvy encouraged. When he did, the elephant lightly tapped his shoulder. The Indian man handed him a peach.

  “Give him this.”

  Martin accepted the peach and held it up. The elephant deftly plucked the fruit from his palm, lifted it to its mouth, and ate it in seemingly one bite.

  “Isn’t he the grandest thing you’ve ever seen?” Livvy pressed her cheek to Martin’s shoulder. She’d made him conquer his fear, and she was glad. He had done it for her.

  “He certainly is.” Martin patted the elephant’s front leg, and then he and Livvy stepped back to allow the handler to take charge of the elephant. Martin paid the handler a few coins for his patience.

  “Shall we go have a drink?” Martin offered.

  “Yes, please.” Livvy waved goodbye to the handler as they pushed back into the crowd. When they found a pub on the ice, Martin order two pints of ale and handed her one.

  “Drink it slowly,” he cautioned.

  She sipped and made a face. The bitter taste was not to her liking. She much preferred wine or sherry.

  “Not for you, eh?” He chuckled. “I’ll drink it then.” He waved one of the barmen down. “A glass of wine for the lady.”

  Martin carried his two pints to a small table, and Livvy sat beside him. They drank in pleasant silence while watching the crowds and the games being played out on the ice. The frost fair was truly amazing.

  “Can you believe this hasn’t happened since 1814? There have been times where part of the river has frozen, but never so much that it was safe enough to walk on.”

  She leaned against him. “Why doesn’t it happen more often?”

  “It has to do with the speed of the river flow and the depth. Shallow rivers freeze more frequently. The king has been improving the waterways by deepening the river. It won’t freeze easily now.”

  “What a pity,” she sighed. “I find this quite magical.”

  “As do I, but magic always fades in the wake of progress.”

  They both fell into a quiet silence as they finished their drinks and observed the fair around them. Livvy wanted it to last for hours. She noticed a large dancing area where a group of men were playing a few violins and people were twirling to a jig.

  “May we dance?” She’d always loved dancing, loved the way it felt to fly in the arms of a handsome partner. She had attended only two balls this year, but each one had been breathtaking.

  “I suppose we could.” Martin finished his second pint and stood. He offered a gloved hand, and she accepted.

  When they reached the dancing area, they found the ice covered with a layer of sand, just as the walkways had been.

  “Be careful,” he cautioned as they joined the other couples queueing up in a line to dance. The musicians started up a lively tune, and the couples facing each other took turns dancing down the row, then they all broke apart to dance in pairs of wide circles. Livvy giggled as she and Martin twirled about, doing their best not to slip on the ice.

  After three dances, Livvy was flushed and panting, her corset sitting a little too tight.

  “Let’s rest for a bit.” Martin led her away from the dancers and walked down a row of impromptu shops. They paused at a stall selling canes.

  “Oh, these are lovely, Martin. Do you have a cane?”

  “No, but I don’t have need of one.” She was aware of that, but a man with a cane was, well, distinguished.

  “I think you would look very dashing with one,” she said as she went to the shopkeeper who lingered close by, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “Dashing? Trying to make me the hero one of your Gothic novels?” he teased. She grinned cheekily.

  “Perhaps. I admit, I do love a darkly handsome man with a brooding face who brandishes a cane.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m far from darkly handsome.” He pointed to the golden hair that shone in the bright winter light.

  “Agreed. More of a fallen angel, perhaps.”

  “Angel? Bah!” he harrumphed good-naturedly.

  “What is a devil but a fallen angel?” Livvy countered. “But I’m serious. I think you should have a cane. Look at this one.” She chose a dark cherrywood one. The handle had a curved elk horn on it. The antler had been carved to bear a noble wolf’s head.

  “Well now, that is a fine one.” Martin studied the cane and then Livvy. She hoped he would buy it. It would indeed fit her private Gothic fantasies all too well.

  “All right. How much?” he asked the shopkeeper.

  “Twenty shillings.”

  “Here you are.” Martin paid the man and took the cane, using it to balance as he and Livvy crossed a slick patch of ice as they continued down the row of shops, until it was time to go home.

  Darkness was creeping over the edge of the buildings by the time they arrived back at the townhouse.

  “Why don’t you rest a bit? We have a few hours before dinner.”

  “I think I will, thank you.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the lips before she dashed away. It felt all too easy to be with him, and tonight she would keep her promise. She would go to his room and…

  She blushed even thinking about it.

  But a promise is a promise, and she wanted to fulfill this one very much.

  12

  Martin took his time dressing for dinner. He couldn’t shake the flutter of nerves he felt as Byrd finished folding his cravat.

  “Everything all right, sir?” his valet inquired.

  “Yes, of course, why do you ask?”

  “Well…you’re fidgeting.” Byrd chuckled. “Most unusual for you, sir.”

  “I…” Martin swallowed, embarrassed at being so transparent. “I admit I’m a little nervous.”

  “Perhaps you are falling for Miss Hartwell?” Byrd asked as he finished with the cravat and stepped back to check his work.

  Martin nearly growled. He didn’t love the daughter of the man he’d sworn to hate. He could admit he liked her, was attracted to her, but falling in love?

  “It’s not love, it’s an infatuation at best, but it does seem to have me in knots.” He studied his appearance critically in the mirror. His bottle-green waistcoat with silver threading made the silk shimmer, and his buckskin trousers looked very smart. Would Livvy approve? She had called him a fallen angel. Did that mean she found him appealing, or simply a presentable devil? He knew he was favorable in looks, but to have a lady say it to him was a different matter.

  “You look fine,” Byrd assured him. “Your source of infatuation will approve too,” the valet added with a smug little smile.

  It hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that his staff had already taken to Livvy. He liked her too. She was witty, intelligent, and quite amusing, among other things.

  “I won’t need you after dinner, understood? The evening is yours.” The valet nodded, understanding but knowing better than to pry.

  He didn’t bother with an outer coat tonight and headed down to dinner. Livvy was already there, standing by the fire, rubbing her hands. She wore
the red silk gown he’d bought her, the one with the deliciously low-cut bodice. Black netting studded with tiny crystals layered over her skirts, letting the provocative red peek through the wide panel at the front of her gown. It wasn’t an overly elaborate dress, but it had the desired effect on him. All he could do was picture sliding his hands up beneath the red silk, watching the firelight glint off the hundreds of crystals sewn into the black netting of her skirts.

  He tamped down the flood of heat that ran through his body. It would not be at all attractive or comfortable to sit through three courses while his shaft was erect.

  Steady, old boy, he silently commanded himself.

  “You look lovely,” he said as he joined Livvy by the fireplace.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him, and his knees buckled treacherously. Why was he allowing this woman to have such an effect on him?

  “Er, shall we have dinner?” He waved at the table.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Martin pulled back the chair closest to his at the end of the table, and she slid gracefully into it. He’d always marveled at how ladies could move so silently and gracefully. Livvy was no exception. He brushed the tips of his fingers over the back of her neck, delighting in the little shiver he felt. Then he sat down and waved for the footman to bring the first course.

  It was turtle soup, one of his favorite dishes. Livvy seemed to enjoy it as well, and by the way she was smiling a little he knew she was thinking of something.

  “What is it?” he asked, leaning toward her.

  “I cannot believe we are…that I said I would…” A blush tinged her cheeks. “I cannot believe I did that.”

  Martin swallowed a curse. Was she trying to back out? If so, he’d be sleeping tonight with the bluest balls of any man in history. But he’d vowed to let her set the pace, and he would keep his word.

  “Do you wish to change your mind? I would not demand…”

  “No!” She giggled, but her face was flushed. “No. I mean, I want to, but I admit to being frighteningly nervous.”

  “Oh. Yes, I see.” He cleared his throat. “Because you’ve never—”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s much better if you’re not hungry.” He reached for his wine glass and drank deeply. His own nerves were edgy. It felt like he was also a virgin facing their first night together.

  “I believe I am too nervous to eat,” she admitted quietly, and set her spoon down.

  “What… What can I do?” he asked.

  “Could we do it quickly?” she asked.

  “Quickly?” The word tasted foul on his tongue. One did not make love quickly, especially not with a virgin.

  “No, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. If we got started soon it might…ease my fears.” She pushed her chair back from the table and stood, holding out one hand to him. He stared at her hand for a moment, wondering if she was serious.

  She was…completely serious. Good Lord.

  Mystified, he took her at her word, and they both abandoned their dinner. She paused when they reached the top of the stairs.

  “Your bed or mine?” she asked.

  “Mine,” he replied, his voice a little gruff as he fought to control his growing arousal. He had to keep from frightening her with his lust. As they entered the room, he closed the door behind them. When he turned back to her, he saw panic flashing in her gaze.

  “Livvy, you don’t have to do this,” Martin assured her. He didn’t want to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She leaned back against the post at the end of his bed and looked up at him through her dark lashes.

  “I want to, but would you kiss me first?” she asked.

  He nodded mutely and approached her. Her lovely hazel eyes glittered in the firelight, and he studied his reflection in her gaze, hoping he could make this night wonderful for her. She put a hand on his chest and slowly lowered it to his stomach. Her exploring touch made his abdomen clench. He caught her wrist gently and lifted her hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her palm before he used his other hand to tilt her head back.

  Lust burned inside him, but he clung to his frayed control. His fingers yearned to touch her, his mouth to taste her, his body to press into hers and merge into a single breathing, sated being. Yet he knew that once he and Livvy came together, it would be infinitely better than it had been with any other woman.

  Pleasure pulsed in his veins as he slowly lowered his lips to hers. Her lips were plump and all too kissable. He could have nibbled and kissed them for days. He let his mouth tell her what he couldn’t find the words to say.

  I’m falling in love. He’d tried to fool himself into believing it was only infatuation, but this went far beyond that. There was no denying now what he felt.

  His kiss was long and leisurely, taking every moment to enjoy exploring her. But after he felt her panting, he sensed she was ready for the rest of what tonight would bring.

  He gently turned her so he could unfasten her gown and let it drop to the floor. Then he unlaced her stays, and she let her petticoats fall to the floor. When she was down to her chemise and stockings, he lifted her up so she sat on the edge of his bed. Then he raised one of her feet and reached up her thigh to loosen her stocking ribbons. He toyed with the silk ribbons, and she gasped when his fingers wandered upward. Then he rolled each stocking off and dropped them to the floor.

  Their gazes locked, and he couldn’t help but notice the pulse at her throat as he touched her neck with his fingers. She trembled as they gazed at one another. He could have let his touch linger on her forever, taking his time to explore her, but there was an anticipation in her eyes that electrified the moment even further.

  “What about you?” She reached for his waistcoat.

  “All in good time.” He lifted off her chemise, and she trembled as she lay gloriously naked upon his bed. She looked like a sacrifice to the pagan god of lust. He may not be a god, but he was going to enjoy taking her as a sweet sacrifice.

  “Mr. Banks—” She tried to cover her breasts, but he caught her wrists in one of his hands and pushed her onto her back. Then he pinned her wrists above her head in the soft bedding.

  “One of these days, you’ll trust me enough to call me Martin all of the time and not just some of the time.”

  “One of these days,” she agreed, relaxing a little.

  “Let me show you pleasure, Livvy. Close your eyes and just feel.”

  She did as he asked, and he lay beside her, nuzzling her neck, licking and kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear and along her collarbone. He moved his focus down to her breasts. She whimpered and jolted as he sucked one nipple into his mouth, making it turn a soft red that pleased him. Her skin was like velvet, soft and sweet and he covered her with kisses. Lord, the woman’s breasts were utter perfection. He couldn’t wait to bury his head against their pillowy softness after he was done making her scream in pleasure. He released her wrists and slid his free hand down her belly and over her mound. He parted the dark thatch of curls that defined the lips of her sex. They were wet and hot as he explored her with stroking fingertips. She bucked her hips when he slid one finger inside her.

  “My, you’re tight.”

  “Tight?” she gasped, her eyes flashing open. “Is that bad?”

  He chuckled. “No. It’s quite good. But it’s going take me a little while before I can enter you. Do you understand?”

  “I… Yes. I think so,” she whispered, a fresh blush staining her cheeks.

  He pushed a second finger inside her, thrusting them in a slow, sensual rhythm as he started kissing her again. He kept her on her toes, surprising her with soft and hard kisses. All the while he played with her, letting her feel the tight penetration of his fingers before he felt she was ready.

  She was panting and dreamy-eyed as she watched him climb off the bed and strip out of his clothes. Then he rejoined her on the bed and parted her thighs as he eased down on top of her. Livvy tensed and her breath grew rag
ged as he guided his shaft to her entrance.

  “Try to relax. It won’t be like this after the first time.” He pushed in, and she gritted her teeth, pain showing in her lovely eyes.

  This was not going to work.

  Martin nuzzled her throat and captured her lips in a deep, searing kiss. She relaxed and he thrust in hard and fast. He felt her maidenhead tear, and she whimpered against his lips, but he kept still, giving her time to relax and adjust to him. He poured himself into the delicious task of distracting her with kisses and eased himself to give her a chance to recover. Her hands moved into his hair, tangling in the strands and clasping him closer to her.

  He’d always wanted passion from his lovers, but this was different. Livvy was sweet, innocent, yet passionate in a way he’d never expected. Her hands didn’t caress with the cool, seductive slide of his last mistress. She clutched, gripped, clawed, moaned, and wriggled, letting her body and her desires dictate her actions. He sucked on her tongue, letting her taste his hunger as he finally began to move his hips. He withdrew from her and then slid slowly back in. She gripped him tight as a fist, and he almost blacked out from the exquisite pleasure of it all. It took a minute to work his way back inside. The hot wet heat of her center welcomed him by his third thrust.

  “Does it still hurt?” he whispered.

  “No—no,” she answered and gasped as he tilted his hips and penetrated her at a new steeper angle.

  “Thank God,” he moaned and rammed himself home, driven by hard and primal need. He’d never been one for gentle lovemaking, at least not once he had properly sated a woman. He was trying to be slower, gentler.

  Livvy dug her nails into his back, and he hissed out of breath. “Faster.”

  Martin let go of his threadbare control and possessed her body, driven like a hungering beast seeking the pleasure of her climax and his own. She lifted her hips, taking him deeper. He thrust hard, then shallow, then slow, then fast, never letting her find a rhythm. He liked the glint of delighted and aroused shock in her eyes each time he took her with another surprising move.