A Woman Made for Pleasure

by Michele Sinclair

  They were entering a deserted section of the park, thick with trees and several unusually high hedges. Chase stopped beside one and dismounted. After helping Millie down from Hercules, he turned and paced to one particularly thick hedge, staring. All of a sudden, he stopped, grabbed his reins, and disappeared with his horse through the eight-foot brush.

  Millie’s breath caught in her throat. “Chase?” she called out quietly. Receiving no answer, she moved closer to the thick brush and asked in a somewhat louder and more perturbed voice, “Chase? Where did you go?”

  Suddenly he reappeared in front of her again. “Follow me. Bring Hercules,” he ordered in hushed tones.

  “Chase, wait. Where are we going?”

  Chase’s look was one of barely disguised impatience. “Come and see.”

  Millie took a stubborn stance and crossed her arms in front of her. “You demand my attendance on today’s jaunt and then practically ignore me. And now you think to order me into a . . . a bush with nary an explanation. I think not, Charlie Wentworth.”

  Chase fought the instinct to roll his eyes. She was back to calling him Charlie. And all because he had said very little since they had left Hembree Grove. She was not the first female to admonish him about his aloof nature.

  He had been in his midtwenties and was supposedly home for a short respite from the war, when a very intent and aspiring marchioness-to-be had continually tried to engage him in conversation or some type of activity. He had apathetically obliged, not because he wanted to, but to maintain the country party facade that masked the meetings taking place among him, his father, and other key Rebuilder members. The young woman, after a few weekends of fruitless pursuit, decided to seek titled men far more complimentary and engaging than Chase. And though Chase had cared nothing for her, her parting words had remained with him throughout the years. “As a wealthy future marquess, there can be no doubt of your ability to find a wife when you deem yourself to be ready. However, if by that time you still hold no value in charming the fairer sex, prepare yourself. For you will have a wife, but you will not find the happiness all men seek.”

  While her comment was memorable, he had not cared if she spoke true or not. Now, surprisingly, he did.

  “Where are you taking me?” Millie demanded again, pointing at the mysterious greenery from which he had reappeared.

  He took a step closer. “A place where we can talk privately.”

  Millie retreated a step. “Why could we not have met in the study and just closed the doors?”

  Chase stopped his advance and frowned. “Elda Mae.”

  “Oh . . . Elda Mae,” Millie repeated, her voice dwindling as she realized Chase was correct. The older woman, while devoutly loyal, was also very protective and extremely prone to eavesdropping.

  Chase grabbed Hercules’s bridle and then Millie’s gloved hand. Seconds later she found herself in a large enclosed garden about the size of Hembree Grove’s library. Surrounding her were a series of neglected, very tall, dense hedges in the shape of a warped rectangle. No entrances or exits could be seen. While trees were ample outside the strange enclosure, none grew inside. Nor were there any flowers. The natural greenery would require very little maintenance. The only man-made items in the private garden were four very old cement benches set in the shape of a square in the middle of the clearing.

  Stunned, Millie haphazardly brushed the stray sprigs that had caught on her dress upon their entrance into the hidden sanctuary. Unpinning her light-blue ruched bonnet, she removed it and took in the setting. “What . . . Where are we?”

  “As I said, a place where I know we can meet privately and without interruption,” Chase replied, plucking the remaining loose leaves caught along her shoulders. The action felt natural and gave him a surprising amount of pleasure.

  Oblivious of Chase’s ministrations, Millie walked a few steps forward and waved her hand. “Yes, well, um, this is definitely private.”

  Chase let go of Hercules and the horse joined his to graze in the far corner of the garden. “Come, relax for a moment.”

  Millie turned and sat down on one of the cool benches, still marveling at how they and their horses had got in without leaving any signs of entry.

  “Um, Chase, just how did we get in?”

  Chase looked bemused. “You were with me.”

  Millie shot him a frustrated look. “Yes, but it does not seem possible. With the exception of a few fallen leaves, the hedge looks undisturbed, and with Hercules . . . well . . . how did we get in?”

  “Many years ago, when the bushes of this garden were much smaller, there was a clear entry point. Initially, this place was used by gentlemen trying to romance their intendeds, but over the years the hedges grew and it became less and less popular to ride so far from the Strut. The public avoided, and then eventually forgot, its existence.”

  “But not everyone,” Millie countered.

  Chase smiled. “No, not everyone. My father needed a place to meet with . . . certain nobles outside of Hembree Grove and servants’ ears, and remembered this spot. The dense growth on either side of the entry had grown, masking the opening. One simply has to know where the entrance is and push the branches out of the way. And as long as this garden is not overused, it will remain hidden, providing an ideal meeting place when one needs privacy.”

  “Oh,” was all that Millie could think to say. Suddenly she realized they were alone. Really alone. The thought made her heart race. Swallowing heavily, she tried to move the conversation to a topic she hoped would ease the pounding in her veins. “You wrote that you wanted to discuss Saturday night. I cannot imagine anything about this past weekend’s activities that would require such lengths for privacy.”

  Chase recognized the conversation’s shift and guessed at the reason. Millie was just as aware as he regarding the sparks flying between them and was attempting to divert their attention. He was unsure whether he welcomed her attempted diversion or was annoyed by it. “I wanted to discuss Marston.”

  Millie punched her legs with her kid-gloved fists. “I knew it.”

  “You did?” Chase asked, surprised by her anticipation of their discussion topic.

  Millie searched his face. “What else could you want to discuss regarding Saturday’s events?”

  Actually, quite a lot, Chase thought. “Let us just start with Marston.”

  “Yes, let us. You start with Lord Marston, and I will begin with Miss Selena Hall.”

  “What about Miss Hall?”

  “What about Lord Marston?” Millie countered.

  Chase stared at Millie, his golden eyes gleaming with frustration. “Fine, Millie. I will answer your question. I want you to stay away from him. Trust me when I say Lord Marston is dishonorable and a scoundrel of immeasurable proportion. I do not want Aimee, Jennelle, or you having anything to do with him.”

  What had she expected? Concern for her, just for her, because of her? Hurt manifested itself into a sharp retort. “He is at the same events. I cannot refuse a dance without repercussions, Charlie. And his attentions are bound to be paid again Wednesday. We were just invited by Lady Castlereagh to Almack’s. Your mother would be rather upset if we declined our guest vouchers, and I do not imagine she would find your lack of fondness for Lord Marston an acceptable excuse for our refusal.”

  As Chase listened to her cavalier remarks about his warning, fear ripped through him and a protective anger flared to life. He gripped her shoulders. “He is not for you, Millie. Do you understand? He is not for you.”

  Millie shrugged him off, stood up, and looked down at him. “Oh, really? And since we are on the subject, just who is for you? Selena Hall? That woman set her sights for you early in the Season. And it seems to be working. Every time she calls, you fall in line, following her around like a lost puppy.”

  Chase rose to his feet and held her flashing eyes with his own. “Did I just hear you call me a puppy?”

  His question caught her off guard. Chase might be many aggra
vating things—but a weak-willed puppy was not one of them. “That is not what I meant. I was just . . .”

  Chase pulled her up against his chest. “Just what?” Before Millie could respond, he said, “Selena may be every noble’s dream of a wife, but she means nothing to me. She is insincere and fairly one-dimensional.”

  He was holding her so close Millie could feel their breath mingling. Her pulse raced. “She is also self-absorbed and artificial,” she said.

  “You forgot shallow and unattractive.”

  Millie blinked at him. “You think Selena unattractive?”

  “Very.”

  “Oh,” Millie murmured, trying to weigh his words against what she had seen.

  “And Marston?” Chase probed.

  Millie’s eyes had locked with his, and only thoughts of Chase remained. “Who?”

  Chase gave her a slight squeeze. It worked.

  “No . . . No, not at all,” Millie responded. “The three of us were just talking last night about avoiding him and . . .”

  Chase’s mouth covered hers, silencing her words of explanation with lips so tender she could not form a coherent thought. Millie melted as his tongue entered, gently stroking the inside of her mouth. As before, she eagerly responded in kind, innocent of the uncontrollable storm she was creating. Tongues teased, tasted, and tantalized.

  Chase slowed the kiss. As soon as Millie had denied any affection for Marston, his need to claim her as his own could not be contained. This time, though, he wanted to take his time and let her feel the endless longing inside him. She trembled under his lingering, compelling caresses. She wanted more, needed more, but didn’t know what. All Millie knew was that she wanted Chase more than she had ever desired anything in her life. She clung to him as the heat in her veins turned into a blazing fire.

  His hand curved around the back of her neck, savoring the silken feeling of her skin. Her scent, her response, her softness—it took all his concentration to suppress his need to lay her down and make love to her. He knew he should stop kissing her before their passion grew into something uncontrollable. It was too dangerous here. He was not afraid they would be seen. The danger lurked from knowing there would be no witnesses. His desire for her was exploding, and the knowledge he could take her now, and no one would be the wiser, was so very tempting.

  Slowly he pulled away, but found himself drowning in her crystal-clear violet pools. They had the power to strip any man of reason.

  When Millie felt his lips completely release hers, her chest was heaving with the effort it took to breathe. Millie knew she was losing her heart to Chase and that was the real reason why he could so easily rattle and provoke her into childlike retorts. She was falling in love and desperately didn’t want to.

  She had sworn never to marry, and of the Daring Three, she believed most strongly in her pledge. Or at least she had. Now, Millie wanted so very much to break it. Who would have thought a man’s kiss could ruin such a well-intentioned promise?

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” Chase’s voice was deep and affected, husky with desire.

  Millie’s quizzical look was filled with misunderstanding and hurt.

  He tucked a loose wisp of hair back behind her ear. “I just meant that it is harder keeping my hands off you than I imagined it would be. I believed I could keep my passions under control. I refuse to force us into a quick marriage based on my compromising you, Millie.”

  Millie heard only a fraction of his words. They had centered on how easily Chase had expected to remain indifferent to her and how he didn’t want her—at least not for a wife. While she had always known this, the words now spoken aloud had a ring of perpetual loneliness. Only pride kept her from crying.

  Millie jutted her chin slightly, trying to appear poised and unaffected by his statement. She needed to leave before Chase saw through her ruse. “I think it is time I return to Hembree Grove. I have to prepare for the theater.”

  Chase walked over and grabbed the reins to their horses. He returned to Millie, extended Hercules’s reins to her, and finally broached the topic that had prompted his request for their private meeting. “Millie, I have an important request of you, one I ask you not to take lightly.”

  The seriousness in his tone caught her attention, as did his implication that she tended to approach all serious things in a childlike manner. “My lord?” Millie prompted.

  The simple phrase was laced with a little more venom than she had intended, but never once did Millie consider apologizing. She took Hercules’s reins and stared pointedly at Chase, refusing to flinch when he stared back.

  Millie’s biting tone was not lost on Chase. Neither was the intentional slight she expressed through her sudden formality. Her eyes had darkened, which usually indicated her pride had been injured. If he had not witnessed, at least a dozen times in the past few weeks, Millie controlling her anger in much more pressing and justifiable circumstances, Chase would have deemed her reaction to be incredibly immature. No, just as she was affecting him, he, too, was affecting her. And while he fully intended, in the near future, to explore the reasons behind their strange behavior when in each other’s company, right now Chase was more interested in gaining her promise to what should be a very simple request.

  Chase took a deep breath and exhaled. “Millie, you have a rare talent for observing the details surrounding you. And while this is in many ways a useful talent, it is also an inconvenient one. In short, I need you to refrain from noticing things any normal young lady attending her first Season would not. To be even more clear, I want you to ignore me and anyone in contact with me, whether it is I or they who have initiated the conversation.”

  Stunned, Millie’s mouth opened and closed several times before she could respond. “Pardon me, my lord. Did you just ask me to stop watching people?”

  Chase could feel his jaw tighten. Millie had a way of twisting even the most straightforward of requests. “Indeed, that is exactly what I mean. Do not deny this habit of yours to alleviate boredom. You relish being aware of things that others are not so keen to observe.”

  Millie was tempted to smirk, but refrained. “You know me so well.”

  “I know you well enough to realize this may be a futile plea. But there is one man in particular I must request you to feign absolutely no knowledge of—Lord Brumby.”

  It took several seconds before Millie could recall to whom Chase was referring. Lord Brumby was the nervous man, the one with the sweaty palms. “Such a bizarre appeal, and, as you say, one that is against my nature. Before I agree, let us talk of your inclinations, Charlie Wentworth. You string words together smoothly, as a polished gentleman should, but I know you as well. You have not issued a request, but a demand. Can you at least tell me why?”

  “Not particularly. Only that the reasons behind your pastimes and interests could be misconstrued and place you in considerable danger.”

  Millie at first believed him to be teasing. The idea seemed ludicrous. How could simply observing a short, balding man put her in any danger unless . . . Oh my, Millie thought as she tried to keep surprise and understanding from registering on her face. Brumby must be the man Chase and Sir Edward had been discussing. If anyone saw her watching the jittery lord, then it could impair Chase’s ability to complete his mysterious mission. “I understand, Chase.”

  She had called him Chase. He was winning the battle, but knew better than to believe she had so quickly acquiesced to his request. “And?” Chase asked with deliberate emphasis, remembering her many verbal traps in which he had been caught.

  When they were young, Millie would say she had understood a direction or command he gave, only to find out later that she had completely ignored it. When confronted, Millie would look directly into his eyes, display no remorse, and point out his folly—that she had never promised compliance, only an understanding of his desires.

  The first time Millie successfully used this stratagem, Chase had been infuriated. Mostly because she had done i
t in front of his parents, who had laughed heartily at her witticism. He swore never to be caught again by her clever mind. Unfortunately, he had found himself in similar predicaments time and time again.

  But he was no longer a naïve young man. Years at war had taught him the value of evaluating one’s words and being patient until he was sure that he got the compliance he needed.

  “And?” Chase asked again, a little more forcefully.

  Millie inhaled deeply. After several silent seconds, she ended the battle she was waging against herself and shook her head. She did not like being trapped into pledging oaths, but her instincts told her Chase was not going to succumb to her tricks. “And I will not overtly watch the man. Goodness, Charlie, I doubt whether anyone but you has noticed my little ways of keeping myself sane at these endless events.”

  “I realize you have not been overt, Millie. You have actually been very clever about concealing your observations, but the men I am after are cruel and ruthless. They have committed unspeakable crimes and have no morals in their character to prevent them from doing so again. Especially if they judge you a danger by assuming you know something regarding Brumby, even though you do not. So I need your pledge, Millie, and we are not leaving without it.”

  She stared at him through lowered lashes. The stubborn, black-and-white, unyielding Charles Wentworth had returned. For so many years, she could see him only as the sole impediment to any fun she, Aimee, and Jennelle wanted to have. But now, hearing the sincerity and appeal in his voice and the residual passion in his eyes, Millie realized Charles, Charlie, and Chase were one and the same. And they always had been. And suddenly he meant more to her than any other man ever would. Somehow she was losing her heart to the one man who physically desired her—but not as a partner, and especially not as a wife.

  Aimee had warned her that love was not something she could choose. That controlling one’s heart was as impossible as controlling the direction of the wind. Only now did Millie understand. She was falling in love with Chase. It mattered not that he did not love her in return, but she would do whatever she could to keep him safe and put him at ease.