“I have never been abducted by a lady before,” he drawled, looking at her pale face in the dim carriage. “This is very exciting.”
“I’m not abducting you, you ass,” she hissed. “As you can see, the carriage is not moving.”
He arched a brow. That was true. “Then whatever could you want with me, Letitia?”
“Lady Seagate,” she corrected him, her cheeks flaming.
That blush stirred his cock and he shifted so it wouldn’t become too obvious. At least not yet.
“Very well, Lady Seagate, I’m at your mercy. What do you want me for?”
He knew the implication that dripped from his tone. She seemed to understand it too, for her cheeks grew even redder.
“I understand you had a visit a few days past from my brother, Griffin.”
His smile fell and he let out a long sigh. Of course that was the only reason for her waylaying him like this. “Indeed, I did, my lady.”
“What in God’s name are you thinking, Mr. Blackwood?” she snapped, her hands fluttering in front of her body like butterflies.
He drew back. “Excuse me?”
“You shall not be excused.” She shook her head as she spoke and little tendrils of dark hair shivered around her oval face. “My brother may look like a man, he may even believe he is a man, but he is but seventeen years old. That you would encourage his foolish inclination to throw himself into your dastardly life is outrageous. And for you to invoke my name when you sent him away, when you must have known how angry that would make him, is cruel to the bone. You are no gentleman!”
He watched her as she spat those angry words at him. God, but she was fiery. She might look meek or demure, but beneath that facade lurked a spirit of a warrior. A warrior with infinitely kissable lips.
“You will say nothing?” she snapped, folding her arms as she slumped back on the carriage seat.
He leaned closer, crowding her in the close quarters until he got a whiff of the same vanilla honey scent that had woven its way around him the night of the ball. It stoked his hunger, his curiosity about how she would taste.
But he ignored those strange drives and instead said, “Let me address your charges one by one. If your brother had the wherewithal to uncover where I reside, he is far more of a man than you wish to believe. And perhaps it is the insistence of his family that he remain a child which drives him to prove otherwise.”
Her lips parted, showing him a tantalizing glimpse of her pink tongue. But she said nothing, just made a tiny squeak.
He continued without waiting for further response. “Secondly, I did nothing to encourage him. The night of my brother’s wedding to your cousin, I told Mr. Merrick that I didn’t think his interest in my life was a good idea. And when you came storming up to interrupt us, you certainly reiterated that thought.”
“And look what you’ve done with that information. Turned it around so that my brother is now angry with me,” she said, and some of the fire was gone from her voice. She sounded pained now, defeated.
How well he knew that sound. His own voice often sounded that way when he discussed War.
“If your brother is angry, I think you hold some share of the blame.” He shrugged. “Your interruption of my discussion with him the night of the ball only served to embarrass him rather than drive him off. What recourse did he have except try to impress me so I would forget that night?”
“You want to blame me?” she whispered, her voice barely carrying, despite how close they were. “That is your game? To turn the blame to me just as you did when you spoke to him a few days ago? You show your true colors, sir.”
He pursed his lips. He had endured her slurs thus far because he understood her fear and also because he found her so unexpectedly attractive. But now he was beginning to become irritated by her continued implication that he was at fault for her troubles with her brother.
“Letitia, when Griffin showed up to offer his services to me, I turned him away. One of the reasons I gave for that rejection was that his family would not approve. You would not approve. That this has caused strife is not my fault and I shall not accept responsibility.”
Her eyes lit up with a flash of pain and shame so deep that it surprised him. What he had said had hit a soft spot with her. One that clearly had to do with more than just her brother.
“No, I would not expect you to take any responsibility. Men like you never do.”
“And you have such experience with men like me because you’ve talked to me twice and had a slight flirtation with Jonathon Aston?” he asked mildly.
Her eyes went wide and her hand swung back to slap him. He caught it effortlessly and dragged her forward on her seat so that their faces were close together, less than inches. Millimeters. He could feel her warm breath on his lips and it was maddening. She was maddening.
“If you’re going to put your hands on me, my lady, I can suggest ways that will be far more pleasant for both of us.”
He meant the statement to shock her, to anger her, and he could see he hit the mark in both ways. But her pupils also dilated and her tongue came out to wet her lips. His heart pounded.
She wanted him.
With a possessive growl, he leaned forward and closed the miniscule distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. For a brief moment, her mouth was flat and unyielding, hard beneath his. But then her lips softened, her breath caught and she melted against him like hot, sweet butter. His arms came around her, one hand cupping the mass of her coiled hair, the other tilting her chin as he brushed the tip of his tongue along the crease of her mouth.
She hesitated, but then her lips parted and he let his tongue slip past, into heavenly heat. She tasted like the same honey scent that clung to her body, and he drank her in as he swirled his tongue around hers, sucking and exploring her.
A moan came from deep within her and she hesitantly met the strokes of his tongue once, twice.
But just as things were becoming interesting, it was like someone sent an electric shock through her. She stiffened suddenly, yanking her head from his. She turned her face, her breath short, her hands fisting open and shut in her lap. She shot him one look, an expression of questioning, of confusion, of desire that was beginning to be buried back under propriety where she likely thought it belonged.
He waited for her to set him down, to try for another slap, to say anything. Instead, she fumbled for the carriage door handle, threw it open, and staggered out of the vehicle. She waved off the servants who moved to assist her, and without a backward glance she stalked up the drive toward War and Claire’s home.
He watched her go, watched her stumble up the stairs and into the foyer. He flopped back against the carriage seat, staring up at the low ceiling as he tried to catch his breath.
He hadn’t meant the kiss the woman, but she was a damned temptation. And now that he had tasted her, he had the very strange desire to do it again. To do it where there would be more privacy. Where there would be nothing but pleasure between them.
Except, judging from the way Letitia had bolted away from him, that was unlikely to happen. And what should he expect? He was far below the woman, no matter if she actually wanted him beneath that proper exterior.
“Just forget it,” he muttered as he got out of her carriage and made his own way to his brother’s door.
Except he didn’t think forgetting was going to be so easy.
Letty stared at her untouched food and said a silent prayer before she allowed her gaze to slide up to the clock on the mantel across from her. Damn. Only one minute had passed since she last looked at its face. Time seemed to be taunting her, refusing to pass at a reasonable rate.
It was probably a punishment for what she’d done in the carriage. Kissing Jack Blackwood. Liking it when he kissed her, if she was going to be more specific about it. When it came to sin, she supposed specificity was key.
Punishment was probably also why the man himself had be
en placed at her right at the supper table. War and Claire had at least ten people at their dinner party and yet here she was next to Jack. She could smell that masculine, spicy scent of his skin right now. His very warm skin, his warm mouth, his hot tongue when he…
No! That was enough of that.
“I’m surprised that you joined us tonight, Letitia,” Jack said, his tone amused as he lifted his glass of wine and took a sip.
She gritted her teeth before she turned her face toward his. “I—” she began. But she had no explanation. After all, she had arranged for this invitation so she could confront the very man at her side.
Confrontation wasn’t supposed to involve kisses. Wonderful kisses, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“Perhaps you know that War and Claire intend to return to the country in a few weeks,” Jack said calmly. “And you wished to spend time with your cousin since she was gone for so long.”
Letty nodded, happy to have a good explanation for her behavior, even if it was supplied by Jack.
He smiled. “Of course, I’ve never seen you at our Sunday dinners before. Curious.”
Damn him. He was trying to set a trap for her, not make things easier. Scoundrel. Yes, he was a scoundrel. And she refused to be intimidated by him.
Or at least show that he intimidated her.
“Do you normally come here on Sundays? I didn’t know,” she said, hoping she sounded nonchalant when she felt anything but. “My Sunday happened to be free this week.”
“I see.” His words were said slowly and the twinkle in his eyes told her that he didn’t believe her.
She pressed her lips together and looked around the table for another conversational companion. There were none to be found. The two men on her left were engaged in conversation with War at the head of the table. The woman across from her was paying attention to the man at her side. And that left Jack.
“Who are all these people?” she asked softly, daring to shoot him a look at last. “Do you usually share supper with so many?”
“No,” he admitted. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “They are all horse people.”
Letty lifted her brows at the tone in which he said those two words. Like he was discussing something that smelled foul.
“You make them sound awful,” she whispered back.
He smiled and she caught her breath. Why did he have to have such a nice smile? Such a contagious smile? It was maddening. She wanted to hate him.
“They are,” he said. “Dreadfully boring, the lot.”
She shook her head. “But they are how your brother makes his living.”
His smile faltered and became more false. “Hmm. Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes. It seemed Jack didn’t approve of War’s breeding business. She didn’t know why. It was certainly better than living on the street. It had to be.
“War wanted to have discussions with some of them before he and his bride left for the countryside. And so our supper was the sacrificial lamb on the altar of his business. But never fear, my lady. Your unexpected appearance at the table makes it bearable for me.”
Letty folded her arms. “I don’t recall being concerned about your wellbeing.”
He laughed. A loud, humor filled sound that for a moment drew all eyes to him. Her cheeks filled with heat at the sudden attention. Especially when she saw Claire’s gaze on her. Her cousin looked surprised and far too interested.
She dropped her gaze back to her plate as Jack said, “No one would ever accuse you of worrying about me.”
A footman came to clear her plate, shooting her a strange look when he saw she hadn’t touched her food. Claire rose to her feet and smiled at War.
“Shall we retire to the parlor where we can be more comfortable as we talk?” she said.
The others began to stand, pairing off to walk together down the short hall to the parlor. As they exited the room, still talking of stallions and breeding and what made a good brood mare, Letty bit her lip.
She had been left with Jack as her escort.
He rose from the table at last and held out an arm. “My lady.”
She stared at the offering, a very strong arm beneath that fine jacket. For a brief, wild moment, she considered not taking it. Not because she didn’t want to walk with him, but because she was afraid to touch him again.
The last time she had, it had ended…well, not poorly. But not as she had expected it would. What if touching him became overwhelming? What if he hustled her into a side room and kissed her again? What if…
“Don’t want to walk with me, Letitia?” he asked, his tone suddenly flat and low.
She jolted from her tangled thoughts and took the arm he still held out. His muscles contracted beneath her fingers and she felt a rush of tingling heat flood through her body, collecting at the most inappropriate places.
“May I ask you a question?” she burst out as he began to guide them into the hallway.
He cast her a side glance. “Of course. Though I may choose not to answer.”
“Do you enjoy being a cad?” she snapped.
“Is that your question?” he laughed. “Very direct of you.”
“No, it wasn’t my question,” she huffed, trying to keep her face serene as they entered the parlor behind the others. Claire was looking at her again. She didn’t want Claire to know what she’d done.
She drew her hand from his arm and took a step away from him.
“I sometimes enjoy being a cad,” he admitted with another of those strangely attractive grins. He had a dimple. Why was that dimple so eye-catching anyway? She’d seen plenty of men with dimples and never given them a thought. “But why don’t you ask your original question?”
She took a long breath, steadying herself before she spoke. “I have been told that you and your brother were raised on the streets of London,” she began.
His smile fell again and his shoulders stiffened as if he were preparing for an onslaught. “Yes,” he bit out, his tone suddenly curt.
“From what I understand, many from those circumstances are not allowed an education.”
“Oh, I was educated, my lady,” he said, his voice still hard and unwelcoming. “Just not in the way you mean.”
“All right, a traditional education, then. But you are well spoken, Jack—” She bit back a curse. “Mr. Blackwood.”
He stared at her a long, charged moment. “You want to know how a street rat like me is able to speak like an educated man?”
He sounded defensive, and she frowned. “I’m not trying to be insulting,” she explained. “I admire anyone who raises himself above his beginnings. And I admire intelligence in general. If you don’t want to talk about it, I in no way make demands. I was only curious.”
He tilted his head and swept his gaze over her entire body from head to toe. She shivered, for the act felt intimate, but while a sizzling energy was there, she recognized what Jack was really doing was sizing her up. Judging whether or not she was worthy of the answer to her question, or whether he had to protect himself from her.
A different kind of education, indeed. She didn’t know many men who could see another person so clearly. But then, in Jack’s business, she supposed he had to do so to survive.
She didn’t have to wait long to determine his assessment of her. His face softened a fraction, and he said, “War and I weren’t sent to school. But I knew being clever could save us. I taught myself how to read and later taught my brother. I found I enjoyed it, as did War. We would steal books and read them out loud to each other. They showed us other worlds, other lives. They provided…”
He trailed off, but she knew what he meant. She had felt the same way when it came to the worlds she found in books. That feeling had saved her, especially in the past few years. She whispered, “They provided an escape.”
His brows lifted, as if surprised that she understood.
“Yes.” He cleared his thro
at and the serious man was gone in that instant, replaced once again by the rogue. “Is that all, my lady?”
She shifted. It should have been all. She didn’t want to be intrigued by him, nor get to know him better. And yet she had more questions. She wanted to know how he had become so powerful at such a young age. She wanted to know why his brother had chosen such a different path and why speaking of that path seemed to trouble Jack. She wanted to know what his favorite book was.
But she was saved from making a cake of herself by asking those questions when her cousin appeared at her elbow.
“Hello, you two,” Claire said, slipping an arm around Letty and squeezing gently.
Letty smiled at Claire, as did Jack, and yet she resented the interruption. Which was proof positive that Letty required it.
“Are you having a good time?” Claire asked.
Letty dropped her gaze to the floor, uncertain what answer to give. In truth, she was uncertain of the answer at all.
“At your horse party?” Jack drawled. “It’s boring as hell, Claire, my dear. And you know it.”
Letty caught her breath at his inappropriate answer, but to her surprise, Claire tilted her head and laughed. She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I actually agree. War and I would have preferred having supper just the four or us, but this is his only chance to speak to a few of these people before we leave.”
“I don’t mind,” Letty reassured her.
“Yes she does,” Jack said with a shake of his head. “Thanks to you, Claire, your cousin has been forced to talk to me all night unless she wanted to talk about how many hairs are in a mane versus a tail.”
Claire laughed again. “I’m fairly certain that topic has never come up, Jack. Although I would love to see the blank looks on some of these faces if you asked the question.”
Jack’s expression lit up with mischief. “Oh, a challenge. Well, I accept, dear sister.” He turned his attention to Letty. “My lady,” he said, tilting his head. “It has been…well, a surprising pleasure this night. Excuse me.”
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