Seduced

by Jess Michaels

  He broke the seal and unfolded the pages. Letitia’s handwriting was even and tidy, but feminine, with flourishes where there didn’t need to be. He smiled before he began to read.

  Mr. Blackwood, I would like to speak to you at your earliest convenience. Is there a place where we could meet that would be private? Not my home, somewhere more neutral? Send me word at your earliest convenience to let me know your reply. Letitia.

  He read the words again before he refolded the letter and put it into his coat. He urged his horse into movement and maneuvered him onto the street. As he rode off toward his lair, he considered what she’d written.

  After their last encounter, almost a week ago now, he had been fairly certain that Letitia would never wish to see him again, let alone speak to him. He had been jealous of her companion, a feeling he despised and hated to acknowledge. He had turned that jealousy into something even uglier.

  She hadn’t deserved that.

  And yet when he kissed her, she’d kissed him back. Urgently. Sweetly. With need that was coiled within her like a long imprisoned snake.

  But certainly that was not the reason for her to wish to meet with him. Her brother was more likely why she wanted to speak. He sighed at the thought of yet another set down from the lady, yet another insistence that he do the impossible: control a seventeen-year-old’s desire for adventure.

  “But why a neutral meeting place?” he asked himself. “She could have easily broached this subject to me at War and Claire’s as she has before.”

  Even more interesting was the fact that she had signed her note as Letitia rather than Lady Seagate. He had been taking the liberty of addressing her by her given name for some time, despite her correcting him. Now she offered her first name to him.

  “Curious,” he muttered out loud.

  He was left with more questions than answers by her unexpected contact with him. And it was an undeniable lure to see what exactly it was she wanted from him.

  He turned away from the finer neighborhoods of London and toward the worst parts of the city. As he rode through poverty and despair, he frowned. He wasn’t about to bring Letty to his lair. Not only did he not want her to know its location, but it wasn’t safe there, not for a woman like her, and not under the current circumstances.

  But there was one place he could think of that would be safe and private. A perfect place for them to have their meeting.

  So he urged his horse faster, eager to arrive at his home. Eager to write her the note that would eventually lead to the answers to his questions.

  He only wished those answers didn’t mean so much.

  Chapter Nine

  Letty pushed the curtain away from the carriage window and stared as the vehicle turned into the driveway at the address Jack had given her the day before.

  This couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake. Before her rose a fine townhouse, as pretty and expensive-looking as her own. And the neighborhood it resided in was not necessarily the most prominent, but it was a good address, one many would envy.

  Was this a trap? Would she enter this home and find it filled with people from Society who would laugh at her for arranging a rendezvous with a criminal?

  The carriage door opened, but she ignored it, continuing to look at the house, pondering what she should do next. Finally, her groom’s head appeared in the doorway. The young man looked as confused as she felt as he said, “Are you exiting the vehicle, my lady?”

  “You are certain this is the right address?” she asked slowly.

  “Yes, my lady,” the young man answered. “This is correct.”

  He held out a hand, and she took a long breath before she grabbed the jacket on the seat next to her, draped it over her arm and finally allowed the servant to assist her from her place. She stepped forward, uneasy as she made her way up the short flight of stairs that took her to the front door. It opened as she reached it and a proper-looking butler greeted her.

  “Good evening, my lady,” he said as he allowed her entry into the foyer.

  “Good evening. Am I—” She blushed and had to gather herself before she continued. “I’m sorry, am I in the right place?”

  The servant didn’t seem surprised by her hesitation. He gave her a warm smile. “Are you Lady Seagate?”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “Then you are in the right place, my lady.”

  The butler held out a hand and she mutely handed over her coat, her hat and her gloves. Now she felt exposed in the pretty gown she had chosen. The servant didn’t seem to notice.

  “Would you like me to take your other coat, my lady?”

  Letty gripped the item tighter and felt heat rush to her cheeks. “No, er, it’s…I…no.”

  The butler nodded. “Very well. If you will follow me to the parlor, I’ll let Mr. Blackwood know of your arrival and he will be in to join you shortly.” He led her to a parlor just off the foyer and showed her in. “Please help yourself to a drink if you’d like,” he said before he shut the door behind himself and left her alone.

  Letty gasped out a breath she had been holding for what felt like forever and stared at the room around her. Once again, the room was very fine, decorated just as the parlors of any other house of this quality would be. It looked nothing like she pictured Jack’s taste to be, of course.

  Was this his home? Had he stolen it? Was some nice family being held hostage even as she stood here, perusing their sideboard?

  What was going on?

  The door behind her opened and she spun around to watch Jack step into the room. Her hands began to shake as he gave her one of those grins that seemed to warm her body from the inside out. She tried without much success to remember how to breathe normally.

  “Lady Seagate,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  She blinked at him, trying to process what was happening and failing. Although it wasn’t polite, she burst out, “What is this place, Jack?”

  He arched a brow. “Didn’t Lawson take your coat?” he asked, instead of answering her question.

  She stared at him for a moment, then his question became clear. She glanced at her arm and the heavy jacket there. “Oh, the coat. No—no, it’s…it’s yours, Jack. You left it when you came…when you kis—when you came to call.”

  He tilted his head to examine her more closely. “Well, I thank you for bringing it back. Why don’t you drape it on the chair there?” As she did so, he continued, “Would you like a drink?” He moved toward her.

  She found herself backing up a step out of habit. “I—well—I—”

  “I’m taking that as a yes,” he said, and picked up a bottle of sherry. He poured two glasses and gave her one before he motioned toward the settee.

  She swallowed as his hand beckoned her toward the couch, where they would sit together, far too closely. She was so utterly confused.

  “Please, what is this place?” she repeated.

  He frowned and took the place she would not. He set his drink on a side table. He laced his fingers behind his head and lounged back to stare up at her.

  “A house,” he said.

  She frowned. “You know what I’m asking.”

  “This is my house,” he said. “I own it.”

  Her lips parted and she could not hide her disbelief. “This house?”

  “You are surprised,” he said, his voice getting a fraction tighter. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, love? Villains make money. Lots of money. I bought this place, I don’t know, two years ago?”

  “So you live here?” she asked.

  “No,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never been here before today.”

  She took another step back from him. “What?” she asked, her voice sounding shrill to her own ears.

  He sighed and pushed off the couch to move toward her, closing some of the distance she had forced between them. “I don’t know why you’re so upset, Letitia. You ask
ed me to provide us a private place to meet. A neutral place. And here we are.”

  She looked around. “This is hardly neutral, Mr. Blackwood. Your servants—”

  “Who I never met until tonight,” he said. “Trust me, they are even more confused than you are. It’s been rather amusing.”

  He was talking like this was normal, or a game, but she saw the slight tension around his eyes. There was more to his buying a fine house like this, clearly investing in some kind of decoration, but never living in it.

  And yet she couldn’t ask for more information. To do so felt like an invasion. An intimacy she hadn’t earned, regardless of her reasons for asking him for this meeting tonight.

  “Why did you ask me to meet you, Letitia? Just to return my jacket?” he asked, taking another step, closing another foot of distance and safety.

  False safety. The man filled the room to its capacity just by standing in it. She hadn’t been safe from the moment he entered the chamber.

  She cleared her throat, thinking of exactly why she’d come. Now that he was moving closer, filling her sightline, filling her senses, the whole idea felt foolish.

  “No, not just to return your coat,” she admitted. “But—but this was a mistake.”

  His eyes widened even as he reached out to touch her arm. His fingers closed around her flesh and she shivered from head to toe. His bare hand against her equally bare arm was like fire. She was burning. Or drowning. None of it made sense anymore.

  He leaned in and her eyes fluttered shut almost against her will. She felt his warm breath stir and merge with her own, and then he pressed his mouth to hers in yet another of those searing kisses. But this time he didn’t press his tongue inside, he didn’t taste her with daring and finesse and passion. Tonight he only brushed his lips back and forth over hers, a whisper-light caress that set her just as much on fire as the claiming ones had.

  He pulled away. “Why did you ask me to meet you?” he repeated.

  She blinked up at him, working hard to find her voice again. Trying to remember how to form coherent words. “You—you told me I should take a lover,” she whispered, hating how her voice broke. “I-I wondered if you’d like to volunteer for that position.”

  Letitia’s words seemed to echo around him and Jack stared at her in shock. He had to be dreaming. Certainly, he’d had this dream before in the short time since he met her. The dream where she offered herself to him. Where he accepted that offer.

  But this wasn’t a dream. It was real. Only it couldn’t be real. He shook his head. “Is this a joke?”

  She broke her gaze from his, her cheeks becoming tomato red. “No,” she whispered.

  “Truly, my lady, did someone put you up to this?” he asked. Though even as he said the words, he couldn’t imagine someone doing so. He hadn’t told anyone about his attraction to her. It seemed foolish to do so when she was so obviously out of his reach.

  She turned away from him. “You—you don’t want me,” she said, her tone broken. “Of course not. It’s fine. I’m sorry.”

  She said nothing more, but made a swift movement toward the parlor door. As she passed him, he saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes, felt the pain radiating off of her.

  “Wait,” he said, catching her arm and keeping her from leaving. “Stop. I’m only confused. What is going on, Letitia?”

  Her breath was shallow and she refused to look at his face. She kept her gaze firmly fixed on his hand on her arm instead. “I—just—oh, Jack, just let me go, won’t you?”

  “No.” He calmed himself with a breath and touched her chin. Gently he tilted her face upward, making her look at him. “I want to understand what is happening here, Letitia.”

  Her bottom lip wobbled, but then she set her jaw like she was girding herself for something entirely unpleasant.

  “You kissed me. More than once,” she said softly. “I foolishly thought that meant you were attracted to me. But—but of course you weren’t. I won’t bother you again, Jack, but please, please don’t tell War and Claire about tonight. I-I would be humiliated.”

  He smoothed the pad of his thumb across her jawline, eliciting a shiver from her, one that was echoed in himself. “Letitia, I do want you,” he said.

  Her eyes went wide, dilating with desire at just those words. She swallowed hard. “You do?”

  “Of course I do,” he said with a shake of his head. “You didn’t see me kissing anyone else from War and Claire’s wedding or that god-awful horse party, did you?”

  “To be fair, the women at the horse party were far older than you and—”

  “If they had all been young ladies, I wouldn’t have kissed any of them,” he interrupted with a laugh regardless of the strange situation, the tension between them. “It seems, despite myself, I only wish to kiss you, Lady Seagate. The larger question seems to be this: why would a woman like you want me?”

  She caught her breath and shook her head. “Do you not have mirrors in that hidden lair of yours? Have you never seen yourself? Who wouldn’t want you, Jack?”

  He chuckled at her tone and couldn’t help how his chest puffed out with peacock pride. “You find me handsome? That is a fine compliment, my lady. But many of your station would look past that to my character, my rank. While they might whisper about my exploits in the paper, they would recoil at coming to the bed of a man like me.”

  “A man like you?” she whispered.

  “A gutter rat,” he said, his smile falling as he laid it out plain. “So far below them that even their servants look more appealing. That is why I was surprised when you made your offer to me, Letitia. I didn’t think a fine lady such as yourself, one who obviously has breeding and class, would want to drop so far below herself when it came to choosing a lover. Especially when she could clearly have her pick of any man she liked of her own rank.”

  She stared at him a long moment, her expression lined with understanding, like she suddenly saw through to his soul. It was both uncomfortable and strangely comforting to feel that.

  “I could not have my pick,” she said. “But if I could, I would still want you. I’m going to ask my question again, Jack. Would you like to be my lover?”

  His cock responded to the soft-spoken question, just as it had the first time. Only this time there was no shock, no confusion to accompany her offer. There was only need, powerful desire. And he couldn’t deny her, nor himself, a second time.

  “Yes,” he said, moving his fingers from her face to slide them into the heavy mass of her brown hair. He cupped her scalp and tipped her head back. “Oh yes, Letitia. I would very much like to be your lover.”

  He claimed her lips again, but this time he didn’t hold back as he had the other times he kissed her. He allowed his desire for her to pour between them as he claimed her lips, her mouth, her tongue. For the first few seconds, she seemed surprised by his ardor, but then she wrapped her arms around him and returned the fevered passion with her own.

  He slid one hand down the curve of her spine and cupped her backside, drawing her hard against him, letting her feel the desire she had questioned. She made a soft sound into his mouth and he smiled as he pulled away.

  “You see? I want you very much, Letitia. So much that I don’t know how much seduction is going to be possible this first time.”

  She said nothing, but stared at him with bleary eyes. Slowly, she nodded, and didn’t argue as he pushed her toward the settee. He lowered her onto the cushions as he returned to kissing her, tasting her, claiming her mouth as he would shortly do with her body.

  And while he did that, he began to push at her skirts. He slid them up her legs, touching the curves. Her stockings were made of a fine silk and he loved the smoothness the finer fabric created. He wanted those legs wrapped around him as she writhed beneath him.

  Finally, her gown was bunched around her waist and he pulled from her kiss again to look at her. She blushed, turning her face as he took in her satiny dra
wers, her frilly garters. Undressing a lady was a very different experience than undressing a whore. But the results would be the same, thank God.

  He placed a hand on her thigh and she gasped at the intimate contact. He examined her face as he massaged the sensitive flesh there. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her cheeks red, her mouth trembling.

  Her husband had been dead eighteen months, he knew. Likely it had been that long or even a little longer since a man touched her. He'd have to remember that, be careful, be tender with her, even though his instinct was to rip those drawers in half and bury himself in her as deep as he could go.

  Instead, he parted the opening on her underthings and took a sharp breath as her sex was revealed. She pushed against his hand, trying to close her legs, and he let his stare return to her face.

  “Don’t hide, Letitia,” he whispered. “There is nothing to be ashamed of here.”

  She swallowed hard, her lips opening and shutting like she was struggling for breath. Her face was pink, her hands fisted on the settee and trembling. Hadn’t her husband done this?

  Well, perhaps he hadn’t. After all, many “gentlemen” saved real pleasure for their mistresses.

  “I want to touch you,” he murmured, testing her gently. “Did your husband ever touch you here?”

  He let just his fingertip slide over the sensitive outer lips of her quim and she sucked in a hard breath.

  “No,” she admitted.

  He pursed his lips. “What a waste,” he muttered as he cupped her gently, letting her acclimate to the feel of his palm against her warm, sensitive flesh.

  She let out a little cry in response, and he smiled. Oh, this was going to be fun. Letitia might not have much experience in the realm of passion, but she had raw, natural talent in that area. He was going to show her what pleasure could be.

  He stroked one finger along her slit gently, feeling the heat, the wetness that was already there just from their kisses, just from these few touches. She tightened her legs, but he didn’t withdraw, just kept stroking her, stroking her until she became acclimated and her legs relaxed. Only then did he push a little further, nudging his fingertip past the lips and against the slick entrance to her body.