‘Don’t worry, I can finish.’
Chapter Eight
They were at it again. Roland Seymour leaned against a tree trunk at the edge of the woods giving on to the lake and spat into the ground. He’d avoided taking a partner in the Easter egg hunt for the purpose of following the lovely Comtesse de Charentes. He needed to determine how much of her façade from last night was fact or fiction before he took things with her any further. In spite of his offer to the contrary, he had no intentions of ‘helping’ someone who couldn’t help him. By that he meant he wasn’t going to set himself up to be ambushed by someone who expected foul play. The more helpless she was, the better.
Was she playing the helpless maid in the summerhouse right now? Was Deveril on top of her, pumping into her hard and fast while she cried out? Or was she riding him, her hair unbound, her hands on her tits as she slid on his cock? Seymour shifted his weight to accommodate his growing arousal.
The muffled sounds coming from the summerhouse had done as much to fire his imagination as had the comtesse herself. She could arouse a man simply by walking beside him, by her elegant hands toying with the jewellery at her neck. She knew enough tricks to keep a man hard all night without even touching him.
Seymour reached deep into his trouser pocket to discreetly handle himself—the visions of the comtesse naked were too much to withstand. Ah, that was better. He was going to need to keep moving along. After an hour of waiting, he wasn’t sure he had the answers he wanted. But he had some he didn’t and they were followed by more questions.
For starters, she was attached more intimately to Mr Deveril than she’d let on if the activity in the summerhouse was any proof. But did that mean anything? Last night, he’d sensed a lack of logic in her choice to confide in him if she had another man in the picture. It was the ‘if’ that mattered. Still, perhaps Mr Deveril was just a sensual diversion to pass the party with, hardly an outlandish diversion for a worldly woman like her. Being with Deveril didn’t necessitate spilling her private business to him. That’s where the ‘if’ came in.
If the attachment went beyond the house party, however, Deveril might become an awkward accessory. Fortunately, he knew how to eliminate those types of obstacles. Everyone had secrets they wanted to protect. The more status a man had, the more important it was he preserved it. An earl’s son would be more than eager to keep certain aspects of his life concealed: illegitimate children, debts. Seymour was sure Deveril was no different. Whatever the secret was, he would find it and Deveril would suddenly find the comtesse less attractive.
Seymour threw a rock idly in the lake and slunk back into the woods. He wouldn’t learn anything he didn’t already know by staying.
* * *
‘We can’t stay here all day.’ But Channing’s words held little conviction. He stretched his arms above his head in an attempt to rouse himself, but with little success. He’d rather stay at the summerhouse and see what other surprises Alina had in store for him. She’d completely outdone herself with her head in his lap.
Alina sat up, her hair spilling down her back in disarray. All the pins had come out by now and she looked like a fairy-tale enchantress; a sensual, otherworldly creature. ‘That prize is still out there,’ she suggested, a soft fire lighting her eyes. ‘I bet we could still find it. I was thinking, if I was Lady Lionel and I wanted my hunt to last all afternoon, I’d hide the necklace at the furthest point.’
‘And delay the finding of it with minor distractions like eggs with bon bons in them strewn between the guests and the prize’s location,’ Channing finished with a laugh. Although he was sure Lady Lionel hadn’t expected the bon bons to provide quite the diversion they’d taken in the summerhouse.
‘It’s obvious where it is,’ Alina continued. ‘There’s a folly on the eastern edge of the estate. Lady Lionel mentioned it in passing the other day.’ She stood and began arranging her clothing.
He rose, too, albeit reluctantly, and went through the process of tucking in shirttails and fixing up his trousers, but his heart wasn’t in it. Sex with Alina was always all-encompassing; it left him incapable of thinking of anything else. Part of him wished it wasn’t. It would be easier if she was like his other women, people he could walk away from when the contract was done and feel no need for further attachment. But with Alina, it was far more complicated. It didn’t help knowing she was the one woman he should walk away from.
He could only imagine what his family would say, what Society would say if he married a French countess, widowed under peculiar circumstances. Well, married was certainly putting the cart before the horse. Channing wasn’t sure where that thought had come from. If Alina was complicated, marriage to anyone was even more complicated for him. Marriage would necessitate a final decision about the agency, about the life he’d led for the last seven years. It was quite a lot to turn his back on. There were people counting on him. What would become of them if the agency were to close? No, marriage was a most precipitous thought, indeed, on all accounts. Better to focus on the present.
‘Let me do that.’ Alina disengaged his hands from his cravat, scolding gently, ‘You’re going to ruin it.’ She had it tied within moments. Her hands were at his shoulders, smoothing his coat.
‘You’d make a fine valet,’ Channing murmured, breathing in the light floral scent of her.
She slid her arms about his neck and he pulled her close. Maybe leaving the summerhouse wasn’t a foregone conclusion, after all. But her next words disabused him of the notion. ‘Channing,’ she whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck, ‘find me that prize. I want to wear it when we make love tonight.’
That wouldn’t be a problem if his cock was a compass. It was steering true north right now. ‘What else will you be wearing?’
‘Nothing, Channing, nothing at all.’ She nipped at his neck and stepped away, holding out her hand, a sensual smile on her lips. ‘How about it, Mr Deveril? Shall we find Lady Lionel’s secret jewels?’
Outside the sun was bright overhead, the day fair, perfect for a hike. ‘Which direction is the folly?’ Channing asked, scanning the horizon. They were still alone, none of their fellow egg hunters had ventured this way yet.
‘Through the woods.’ Alina pointed to the little cluster of trees.
He let her take him by the hand and lead them forward but at the edge of the woods, he caught sight of something disturbing: the deep imprints of a man’s boots in the mud. There was no smaller, potentially female counterpart with them, nullifying the idea that a pair of partygoers had fleetingly passed that way. Channing said nothing to Alina, who was too intent on pulling him forward to notice. Someone had been there. From the depth of the impressions, that someone had stood there for a while. Channing shot a look over his shoulder to the summerhouse. From here, a person would have a good view of the place and what might be going on in it without the occupants being aware of anyone’s presence. The realisation swept through him, leaving a cold, clammy feeling behind. Lucifer’s balls, they’d been watched!
Not that he cared. He wasn’t bothered by the concept of being seen naked, or even by the idea someone had seen him in the act. He was, however, bothered by what someone with nefarious purposes would do with the information. Then again, he was London’s most-wanted rake, such a juicy titbit would only serve to enhance his reputation.
He had little to fear. That wasn’t true of Alina. Taking a lover in the bright light of midday, out in the open where apparently anyone could see, would be damaging to her. The careful reputation she’d pieced together for herself would be shattered by such a revelation, proving to everyone she was no better than she ought to be, a woman corrupted by the loose ways of the Continent.
The old desire to protect Alina rose as sure as it had risen that day so long ago when he’d offered to wait for her in Paris. It wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to be beyond such chivalrous s
usceptibilities. This time he knew her full measure. She hadn’t accepted his offer back then and he feared she wouldn’t accept it now if the need arose. She was too independent, too stubborn. They might have had incredible sex in the summerhouse, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hiding something from him. There was definitely something she wasn’t telling him.
They came out of the forest where the path converged with others coming from different directions on the property and Channing could see others had the same thoughts as Alina. They were no longer alone—a handful of couples waved to them, holding up baskets full of eggs. Another worry came to him. Would the three eggs they’d found look suspiciously few? Behind the lead couples, larger groups were converging on the path to the folly. Alina tugged at his hand with urgency. ‘Come on, or we’ll be too late.’
They beat the other couples to the folly only by a few minutes, the others having stopped to search the area at the base of the hill in the hopes of finding more eggs. Apparently, there was also to be a prize for the team with the most eggs. ‘That’s what we get for not listening to the rules.’ Alina gave him a saucy smile as they crested the hill.
Their first few guesses as to where the last egg was hidden turned up false, but they did gather a couple more bon bon–filled eggs. Their basket looked more respectable. By then, the other couples had joined them. That was when Channing saw it—an egg tucked up in the crumbling battlements of the folly. He took Alina’s hand and whispered, ‘Up there, on the left. We must be stealthy or we’ll give away its position.’ And other couples were closer if they noticed. Alina’s face glowed with anticipation. It was Alina who went up into the battlements while he ran diversionary tactics down below, frantically searching under rocks and in nooks as others crowded the hillside.
‘I’ve got it!’ came Alina’s cry at last. Channing looked up and smiled. Alina stood at the top of the battlement, the necklace dripping from her hand in a glittering cascade, looking like a regal medieval queen in her triumph. Night, Channing thought, couldn’t fall fast enough. Diamonds were about to become his best friend.
* * *
‘Diamonds become you, comtesse.’ The words startled Alina into alertness. She gathered her thoughts and remembered to smile. She’d worn the necklace to dinner as an honour to her hostess and to commend the success of the ingenious egg hunt. She’d not seen a way out of it without being rude, but diamonds were not her friend. She’d wished with all her heart the prize had been anything but a diamond necklace, the one piece of jewellery she’d come to despise above all else, the one thing she intensely associated with the humiliations of her marriage: the diamond collar she’d worn the day Channing had come to the park, the same collar she’d worn at the comte’s command whenever he wished her to remember her place, at his feet like a dog.
She put a hand to the jewellery where it lay against her neck. ‘Thank you, Mr Seymour. Did you enjoy the egg hunt?’ Alina enquired out of politeness. She had no doubt the event would be the talk of London when everyone returned to the city in a couple days. Lady Lionel had certainly succeeded there.
She’d been wool-gathering. Shame on her, when she should have been working. The evening had slipped by; dinner had given way to a pleasant evening of music and cards. Here it was, nearly time for the tea cart and she hadn’t made her next move with Seymour. Time was running out. There was only the ball tomorrow and the party would be over.
She caught sight of Channing starting to cross the room and quickly slipped a hand through Seymour’s arm. If she meant to take the next step with Seymour, she needed to have him to herself. Channing would only serve to scare Seymour off. She guided Seymour towards the doors leading outside.
‘I did. I made several interesting discoveries.’
Too bad he hadn’t choked on his bon bons, Alina thought. But then she wouldn’t have the pleasure of catching him out and seeing him ruined. She gave a pout, letting her expression cloud. ‘I had such a good time today, so you can imagine how disappointed I was to return and find a letter waiting from my solicitor.’ She looked up at him from underneath her lashes, suddenly reticent. ‘Did you mean it last night about wanting to help me? I wouldn’t want to burden you.’ She hesitated ever so slightly.
‘My dear comtesse, it would be no burden at all,’ he replied silkily. Good lord, the man could barely keep the avarice out of his eyes. He was disgusting.
‘I have a property that is failing. It’s a good property,’ she added hastily, ‘but it needs improvements in order to turn a profit and improvements are beyond my current budget.’ She fingered the necklace and gave a rueful smile. ‘Perhaps not now, though. I suppose I could sell my necklace. I was going to ask if you might be able to help me arrange for a loan, but now I think I might ask if you could pawn my necklace for me?’ She conjured a watery gaze. ‘These kinds of arrangements are unknown to me. I fear I would be taken advantage of if I attempted them on my own.’
‘I hate to see a lady sell her jewels for something as mundane as farming implements and tenant roofs.’ Seymour cocked his head as if an idea had just surfaced. ‘I don’t think such a prize should be sold. It will be a wonderful memento of this day.’
‘But I have no choice,’ Alina gently reminded him.
‘I could loan you the money,’ Seymour suggested.
She let herself brighten at the prospect. ‘You could? You would do that for me? It would be perfect. It would be private? No one needs to know?’
‘No one needs to know,’ he echoed, covering her hand where it lay on his sleeve. She fought the urge to withdraw it. ‘I am the soul of discretion, comtesse.’
She sighed. ‘But there is a problem. I haven’t any collateral. I have no way of securing the loan and I don’t want to take advantage of you.’
He smiled again. ‘Never mind about that, here’s how we’ll do it.’ He explained the process and she managed to nod in key places. ‘Do you understand, comtesse? It’s all very simple really. We’ll have your property turning a profit in no time.’
‘Yes, I understand perfectly.’ She understood all too well. There was no problem in what he suggested, only in what he did when the property was under his purvey. ‘Thank you, Mr Seymour, you’ve made this much easier than it could have been otherwise.’ It was all true, only not in the way he thought she meant it. His greed had made him a pigeon ripe for the plucking. Channing was on the move again and, this time, she let him find her. It was the ideal manoeuvre for disengaging herself from Seymour without giving the appearance of leaving him abruptly on her own accord. She’d let Channing take care of that.
‘There you are, comtesse.’ Channing did not disappoint. ‘Lady Lionel sent me to find you. She wanted you to have the first piece of cake as the victor of our egg hunt.’ It was perfectly timed, the tea cart just rolling in.
‘If you’ll excuse me, Mr Seymour?’ Alina gave him a smile and moved to Channing’s arm.
‘Of course, my dear. We’ll speak again in the morning.’ He gave her a bow and she could already feel Channing’s muscles tighten beneath her hand.
‘What does Seymour wish to speak about in the morning?’ He fairly bristled as they walked.
‘Business.’ She cast him a sly glance and touched the necklace in subtle reminder. ‘Don’t be jealous, what I have planned for us is all pleasure.’
Channing gave an imperceptible arch of his eyebrow. ‘Makes me want to skip the tea cart altogether,’ he murmured huskily.
‘I’d advise eating.’ She gave a throaty laugh. ‘You’ll need your strength.’
‘Minx. You really are irresistible.’
You are, too. The afternoon had been a delightful foray into pleasure and play. It had proven that the pleasure still existed between them. That was half the problem. The other half was that she didn’t even want to try to resist on afternoons like today when she’d been swept away in the fun of being
with him. Giving herself over to that kind of abandon hadn’t worked out for her in the past. This time, she reminded herself, it would be different. She was smarter, wiser and she knew what she was after: just the pleasure, nothing else. This time she wouldn’t forget: out of bed, Channing Deveril had limitations.
Chapter Nine
Those limitations didn’t apply inside the bedroom, however. Nor did they apply for the duration of the house party, Alina decided as she readied herself for Channing’s visit. She had her mental ground rules firmly in place. There was no reason why she should not carry on a wicked flirtation with Channing that served both her purposes of distraction and pleasure. Surely, after all she’d endured, she deserved a little pleasure as reward. There was no harm in it as long as she kept perspective.
She would have to be subtle, starting with tonight. Channing had seen right through her other attempt from the start and he had no tolerance for being someone’s plaything, especially not hers. What he perceived as her betrayal all those years ago would not allow for it. Alina paused in front of the mirror over her vanity and studied the reflection. She’d chosen a white-silk dressing gown that belted at the waist and flowed over her curves. She wore nothing underneath. Her hair was up, loosely held in place with a clip. It would come down easily and quickly. For now, she liked the image it created, as if she was fresh come from her bath. But her neck was bare. She’d decided long ago she would not wear the diamonds for Channing or any man. The necklace was prettily laid out on her vanity, catching the candlelight, but it would not grace her neck.
The woman in the mirror had long known the power of sex to bend men to her will. Without it, she would not have survived the cruelties of her marriage to the comte. Slowly, she unbelted the robe and drew the robe apart, revealing her nakedness to the mirror. She cupped her left breast and lifted it, exposing the underside. The faint remnants of his mark were still there, hidden from view, especially in the dark. But she knew and he’d known it was there.
London's Most Wanted Rake Page 8