But it wasn’t a man. A feminine cry sounded as a woman darted off at full speed. He caught her before she could even reach the door. Grabbing her by the arm, he whirled her around to face him.
Confound it all, it was Clara.
Looking pretty as a princess, she flashed Morgan a weak smile. “G-Good evening.” Apparently sensing his anger, she backed away as if preparing to run, but he grabbed her arms to stay her.
“How much did you hear?” He dug his fingers into the bare skin showing above her long gloves and shook her. “Tell me what you heard, damn you!”
“Nothing, I swear! You were both speaking so low, and I couldn’t get near because of those cursed pillars.”
Should he believe her? He glanced over to the pillars. They weren’t exactly close to the chairs. And he and Ravenswood had been discreet. He returned his gaze to her. “You heard nothing?”
She shook her head furiously. “Nothing. I promise you. And believe me, I tried.”
“I’ve no doubt of that.”
Now that he was almost certain she told the truth, he relaxed his grip. But he couldn’t bring himself to release her until he looked her over. He’d never seen her in evening dress. He’d never seen her lovely neck graced by pearls or her silky hair haloed by ribbons…or her soft breasts swelling above the bodice of a rich, low-cut gown.
Without even realizing it, he skimmed his hands down the short stretch of bare arm to her kid gloves, then back up to the borders of the net puffing out over her blue satin sleeves. And all the while he drank her in, marveling at the change a little satin and some pearls could make in a woman. But when he reached to touch the pearls, she jerked and stepped back, breaking free of his grasp.
“That was Lord Ravenswood you were talking to, wasn’t it?” she whispered, rubbing her arms as if to banish his touch.
That broke the pleasant spell she’d wound around him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to spy on people?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to fence stolen goods? And bribe government officials? And—”
“Bribe government officials?” he broke in before she could finish detailing all his imaginary crimes. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me. Why else would you hold secret meetings with Lord Ravenswood if not to bribe him to ignore your crimes?”
He managed a laugh. “It wasn’t much of a secret meeting if you stumbled upon us. You’d think we’d be more discreet.”
“Don’t laugh at me!”
“Then don’t spy on me.”
“I-I wasn’t spying,” she protested. When he stepped nearer, into a wash of light from a nearby sconce, she seemed to notice his apparel for the first time. “And why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?”
She swept her hand down to indicate his cravat tied in the fashionable Oriental knot, his tailcoat finely cut, and his silk breeches drawn taut enough to bounce a shilling off of. “Like that. Like a gentleman.”
“I am a gentleman.”
She snorted. “You’re a devilish, deceiving rogue, that’s what you are. Dressing like a gentleman so you can sneak into the ball to bribe Lord Ravenswood—”
“I don’t know where you get these notions,” he snapped. “I was not bribing Lord Ravenswood. I merely encountered him in here and exchanged a few pleasantries. To bribe him, I’d have to tell him about my…er…activities, and why would I?”
She considered that with a thoughtful expression. How long would it be before she figured out the connection between him and Ravenswood and put the rest of it together? He’d best distract her before she got that far.
She tipped up her chin. “If you weren’t here to meet with his lordship, why are you here? Tell me that.”
A sudden mischief seized him. “Why do you think?” He waved one hand to encompass the library. “Lord Merrington owns a vast number of lovely and expensive items. He has excellent taste in china and some of the finest silver I’ve ever seen. His Rembrandt alone must be worth—”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she exclaimed in clear horror. “You’re a fence, not a thief!”
“That’s true.” He grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. She was so delightfully easy to provoke. “The trouble with being a fence, however, is that I have to take what the thieves bring me. And since they generally don’t have the education to recognize the choicest bits to steal, I’ve come ahead of time to pick out what I want. Then all I need do is send the professionals over here with their lock picks and their—”
“I won’t let you steal from the Merringtons, you…you scoundrel!” Taking him by surprise, she whirled and took off for the door.
Erupting into laughter, he ran after her. She’d actually managed to open it before he caught her and slammed it shut. Still laughing, he twisted her around to face him, then planted his hands against the door on either side of her to trap her.
Judging from her expression, she didn’t share his amusement. “Get away from me!” She thrust hard against his chest. “I won’t let you do this!”
“Clara, stop it. Can’t you tell when I’m teasing you? I’m not here to steal. For God’s sake, calm down!”
It took a second for his words to sink in and another for her to stop pushing at him. But her pretty eyes still flashed, and her hands curled into fists against his chest.
“I’m not here to steal, ma belle ange,” he repeated. “I swear it.”
Anger faded to uncertainty in her face. “And you’re not here to…to determine what your cronies should steal?”
Choking back more laughter, he shook his head. “Come now, do you really think I’d reveal my plans if they were so wicked as all that?”
“I suppose not.” Still stubbornly suspicious, she surveyed his clothing once more. “But if you’re not here to steal and you’re not here to bribe Lord Ravenswood, then why are you here?”
“The same reason most people are here, cherie. To attend the ball.”
“Surely you were not invited—”
“I’m still a naval officer, you know. I do have friends from the old days.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Lord Ravenswood? Is he one of your ‘friends’?”
“Perhaps.” Before she could pursue her interrogation, he turned it on her. “Now tell me why you’re spying on him.” As if he didn’t know.
“I’m not spying on him. I was merely hoping for a word with him in private when I came upon the two of you.”
“And why would you wish to speak to Ravenswood in private?” If she was telling the truth about not having heard his conversation with Ravenswood, then she’d want to hide what she was attempting to do.
That must have just occurred to her, too, for she blinked, caught in her own snare.
He tormented her gleefully. “Wait, I think I can guess.”
Sheer panic filled her face. “Y-You can?”
“This is a marriage mart. You and Ravenswood are both unmarried. It doesn’t take much to deduce the rest.” He leaned in close to tease her. “Are you looking for a husband, Clara? I hear that Ravenswood is a most eligible bachelor. Have you set your sights on him?”
Her panic turned to annoyance. “Good Lord, no!”
“All it would take is your tempting him into a compromising position. Then, noble character that he is, he’d marry you. Is that why you wanted to speak to him privately, so you could entice him into a hasty marriage?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No?” He let his gaze trail over her to examine every aspect of her inviting attire. “Then why are you dressed in this pretty gown, if not to tempt a man?”
“I-I always dress well for these affairs.”
He dropped one hand from the door to finger the blue rosettes adorning her puffy sleeves. “Satin, isn’t it? And very expensive, I’ll wager.”
“It’s no more expensive than…”
She trailed off as he dragged one finger along the thin shoulder of h
er gown, then traced a line down her bodice. When her breath quickened and her eyes softened, he felt a fierce surge of satisfaction. Ever since that day in his shop, he’d wondered if he’d imagined her eager response to his touch. It pleased him enormously that he hadn’t.
As she stared up at him with wide eyes, her lips parting in an unconscious invitation, he ran his finger along the trim of her low-cut bodice. It was all he could do not to touch the tempting swells of her breasts that peeked above the edge. What began as a way to distract her from his and Ravenswood’s meeting was rapidly flaring into desire.
“Ah, yes, satin,” he heard himself say hoarsely. “And trimmed with lace, too. Very costly.” He lowered his voice. “Very provocative. An excellent choice for tempting a man to throw caution to the winds.”
She swallowed, her pale throat trembling with the motion. “I wasn’t trying to…I mean, this is the way I always—”
“I’ll wager every man here has been watching you tonight, wanting to put his hands on you. Wanting to do this.” He nuzzled her cheek, drowning in the jasmine scent of her. “And this.” He kissed her impudent little nose. “And this…” He covered her soft mouth with his.
Every muscle in his body came alive. Her lips were even tastier than he remembered, honey-sweet and warm as summer. He could spend hours kissing her, touching her. He’d never met a woman so open and yet so innocent. She was sometimes an angel, sometimes a wanton, but always irresistible.
Like now. He ought to take advantage of her dazed response to escape, but he was doing this instead.
Nor had he any intention of stopping, not when he’d waited forever to kiss her again. The Specter be damned, Ravenswood be damned. As long as Clara continued to let him kiss her, they could all go to the devil.
Because he would enjoy this taste of her while he had the chance.
Chapter 12
Avoid sinful and unlawful Recreations, and all such
as prejudice the Welfare of Body or Mind.
A Little pretty pocket-book, John Newbery
The longer Morgan kissed her, the more Clara yielded. How could she help it? She’d dreamed of this, dwelt on it night after night. And it was every bit as delicious as before. The man knew a thing or two about kissing. His mouth caressed hers so expertly that by the time he deepened it, she’d given up any thought of resisting.
She rose to his kiss, opening her mouth to receive every silken thrust of his tongue. Her hands crept beneath his coat of their own volition, plastered themselves against his warm, taut waist. With a groan, he leaned into her and kissed her more deeply, making her heart pound so furiously she thought surely he’d hear it.
Or feel it. Because the same finger that had traced her bodice trim was drawing a line again. Except that this time he’d removed his gloves…and this time his bare finger stroked bare flesh. Boldly, seductively, he trailed it over skin that leaped to fire with his every touch.
Until at last he stopped at the inward curve between her breasts to dip his finger inside her bodice.
She tore her lips free, breathing hard. “Wh-What are you doing?”
His hungry gaze locked with hers. “Wondering about the temptations you were planning to offer Ravenswood.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake, I was not planning to offer—”
His mouth closed over hers again, so hard and plundering and needy that she scarcely registered when he slid his finger along the inside of her gown and chemise. But she definitely noticed when his fingertip grazed her nipple beneath the chemise—her bare nipple, for pity’s sake. How incredibly erotic to have him touch her there.
And wicked in the extreme. Wrenching her mouth from his, she stared down at his deft finger, hardly daring to believe what he was doing. He stroked back and forth along the inside of her chemise, brazenly caressing her breast.
Her pulse thundered, and she could scarcely breathe. She should protest, but speech was impossible.
Resisting his attentions had been easier when his dress served as a constant reminder of his roguish character. It was so much harder when he dressed like any gentleman of her acquaintance. It made him seem almost…respectable.
Except that no respectable gentleman would do this.
“Perhaps we…we should return to the ball,” she said weakly. But her hands remained fixed on his waist, putting the lie to her words.
His gaze pinned her in place, black, secretive, promising pleasures. “It’s cozier here.” His hand left her bodice, but only to reach behind her and lock the door to the library. “And private.”
A shiver of fear and yes, anticipation, ran down her spine. “I don’t think I should be private with you.”
“Why not?” He shot her a smile of pure mischief. “You were planning on trying out your wiles in private with Ravenswood.”
“I was not! Why won’t you believe me?”
He planted an exquisite kiss on her neck. “Because you haven’t offered any other explanation.”
She dragged in a breath. No, she hadn’t. And at the moment, she couldn’t think of a single plausible one but the truth. Which she certainly couldn’t tell him.
When she remained silent, he bestowed another kiss farther down, on her collarbone. “You see?” he rasped as she shivered with undeniable pleasure. “I’ll stick to my explanation. Though I must say it was very cruel of you to plan such a thing. I hear Ravenswood has no interest in marriage, but the poor man wouldn’t have stood a chance against your delights. God knows I’m completely helpless against them.”
“You’ve never been helpless a day in your—” She broke off when he closed his hand over her breast, kneading it through the bodice so skillfully that she moaned. “Oh, my word, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Touching you the way I’ve wanted to for so long,” he murmured, “the way you’ve wanted me to.” As if to prove it, he lifted his other hand to caress her other breast.
Good lack-a-daisy, as Aunt Verity would say. She would surely dissolve into a puddle right here, on the Merringtons’ carpet. “Morgan, you really shouldn’t—”
His mouth covered hers again in the most exhilarating kiss imaginable. Or was it exhilarating because his hands fondled her breasts at the same time, rubbing them in such a tantalizing fashion that she prayed he’d never stop?
What was wrong with her? She’d always figured that wantonness must have its pleasures for women, or some of them wouldn’t be so willing to throw up their skirts for men. But she’d never expected it to affect her this way. Why, she didn’t even like Morgan!
No, that wasn’t true. She liked him too well. But not what he represented. Just as he didn’t really like what she represented.
The thought gave her pause. Why was he using all his devilish powers of seduction against her? It couldn’t be because he felt anything for her. No, it must be because of something else…like that day in the shop when he’d kissed her to distract her…
As the painful truth dawned, she jerked her hands from inside his coat to shove him away.
He staggered back, his heavy-lidded eyes glittering with a feral hunger. “What is it, cherie?”
“I know why you’re doing this! Touching me and…and making me want you to—Anyway, I know why.”
His hands closed into fists, as if he fought to keep from touching her. “Because I desire you?”
“Because you ‘desire’ to distract me.” She fought to hide her hurt. “A man like you never gives in to urges unless they serve a purpose. And your purpose is to keep me from asking about what’s going on between you and Ravenswood.”
A palpable coldness spread over his features. “So you’ve figured me out, have you?”
She nodded, unable to speak the words for the sick tumult roiling in her stomach.
“I couldn’t possibly just want to taste you,” he said acidly, “or hold you in my arms or for one damned moment feel a connection with another fellow creature. No, not a man like me. Not a heartless criminal.”
The
force of his bitterness struck her with guilt. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” He glanced away, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
After a moment of wintry silence, she reached for the door lock, but he caught her hand. He braced himself against the door with his other hand as his gaze swept slowly down her body.
The need that leaped in his face was unmistakable. “All right, ma belle ange. I suppose you want answers to your questions. Well, contrary to what your suspicious little mind believes, I want to share a few moments of pleasure with you. So here’s my offer—you ask your questions, and I answer them truthfully.”
She started to speak, but he held his finger to her lips. “I’m not finished. For every question I answer, you give me something I want.” He traced her lips with his finger. “A chance to taste you.” He ran his finger past her chin to stroke the length of her neck all the way to her chest, and she shivered with anticipation. “To caress you.” Tucking his finger inside her bodice, he inched it toward her nipple. “To fondle your bare flesh.”
By the time he reached his destination, she ached to have him touch her there. And he knew it, too, for his face held a grim satisfaction as he stroked back and forth over her nipple, teasing her, arousing her. But when some prudent part of her rebelled and she reached up to stay his hand, he said huskily, “Those are my terms. For every answer I give you, you give me a caress or a kiss or…whatever I ask for.”
Whatever he asked for. She was in dire trouble now. Because the very idea made her mouth water.
And confused her, too. Did he truly desire her as much as he claimed? So much that he’d answer her questions? Or was this only another ploy?
“You think I won’t do it,” she whispered. “You think because you ran me off last time with your…outrageous advances, that I’ll let you do it again.”
He merely arched an eyebrow.
Dance of Seduction Page 16