And his physique—well, that broad-shouldered torso and lean body so superbly displayed in a charcoal jacket and snug black pantaloons put the statues of the Roman gods that surrounded them to shame.
She slid to her feet, realizing belatedly that she looked nothing like a corresponding goddess. There was a bright spot of peach juice on her skirt. She’d stuffed her stockings under a cushion. And what could he be doing here? Her throat went dry. The devil could not possibly have found out about Nigel’s secret marriage already, could he?
“Can I do something to help you, my lord?” she asked quietly, sweeping all her concerns under a demure demeanor.
He took her elbow, guiding her back a step. “It is I who have come to help you.”
Jane plopped back down onto the couch, too astonished to dissemble. He followed, his movement far more graceful than her shocked thunk. His physical presence quite overpowered her, his heavy thigh pressed against her knee, and she could not imagine that her papa had sent him up here to . . . to what?
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“This whole affair must be extremely upsetting to you.”
“Quite.” Although not as upsetting as marrying Nigel would have been.
“I have to admit I admired your composure today.”
If he’d had any real understanding of what she was truly composed of, Jane doubted this conversation would be taking place. “Thank you.”
“It must have been difficult.”
“You have no idea.” Intriguing. He seemed quite nice, actually. What could he be trying to say?
“To have everyone staring at you,” he said, shaking his head in sympathy.
“I hardly noticed.”
“To have everyone whispering while you stood there in utter humiliation.”
“It wasn’t pleasant, but I am still alive.”
He tsked. “To be the object of universal disgrace. Of mockery. Of pity.”
Jane stared at him with an admonishing frown. “Is this meant to make me feel better?”
“One must face facts.”
Why? she wanted to ask, but she was too drawn into this drama to disagree. It was difficult to deal with him when she had no idea of his intentions. “Yes. One must.”
“One must pay a price for humiliating a young woman.”
“Yes, one—what sort of price are we talking about?” she asked a trifle impatiently.
“Leave that to me. Know only that Nigel shall answer for what he did to you.”
“Perhaps he had an excuse.”
“Don’t you dare defend the miserable little bugger to me.”
Jane coughed. “Language, my lord.”
“Excuse me. Sometimes my passions overcome me.”
“Of course,” she murmured. She had heard more than once about those passions of his, but had certainly never envisioned herself the recipient of them.
He peeled off his gray leather riding gloves. “You are aware that the papers will carry every embarrassing detail of the day’s event?”
Jane hesitated, distracted by the sight of his strong elegant hands. This distraction paled, however, compared to the shock she felt when one of those strong hands engulfed hers. “Papers—what—mercy, what are you doing?”
He gave her fingers what she supposed was meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Instead, the most potent flush of pleasure spread in hot rivulets through her body. “The papers will say that another Boscastle rake has broken a lady’s heart,” he mused. “Much will be made of the fact that my former mistresses flanked me in the chapel.”
Jane lifted her brow in delicate reproach, as if to say, Well, no wonder. But in light of the fact she had botched her own marriage, and his thumb was rubbing her knuckles in such a pleasantly disconcerting manner, she decided to hold her tongue.
He sighed. “Right now one of my brothers is resting from the fistfight he instigated during the wedding breakfast over a demirep.”
“Oh, dear.” Every time his blue eyes looked into hers, the queerest flutters went off in the pit of her belly. She was drifting—into something indefinable, as if magical wings had been attached to her wrists and ankles, lifting her into a dark warm fog.
“My sister Chloe is talking about becoming a Continental courtesan,” he added.
“No? Not really?” Jane remembered a gorgeous raven-haired young girl who devoted herself to numerous charities.
No, he thought. Probably not really. But Grayson had a point to make and a little embellishment of the truth would not hurt when he basically had Jane’s best interests at heart. To think Nigel could be bedding this interesting beauty at this very moment. Grayson had never met anyone quite like her. She had the softest hands, and that wedding dress, all wrinkled and lacy, should have made her look demure, but it produced the opposite effect on him. The devil in him would have dearly loved to learn what that lace concealed.
“Devon, another brother of mine, has gone off with his useless friends in search of pirate treasure,” he said darkly.
“Pirate treasure?” Jane was not quite able to suppress a smile at the charming but frivolous notion; he caught it and smiled back.
“I suppose we’ve earned our reputation,” he admitted, “although for the most part our sins have not been irredeemable. Until what Nigel did today. Never have we humiliated a young lady on purpose.”
Jane was drifting higher into that undefinable stratosphere, completely spellbound by this devilishly attractive man. What could he possibly be leading to? Rogues like Sedgecroft lurked beyond the social circle of proper young women like Jane, even if they did arouse a certain curiosity.
Nigel had constantly cautioned her to avoid the other Boscastle boys, and Nigel had been her best friend. Naturally she had not questioned his advice. In fact, she had always believed herself clever enough to resist seduction. But then no truly appealing man had ever tried to seduce her before. Was this . . . an appallingly flattering thought crossed her mind.
“Do you mean to seduce me?” she asked in a serious voice.
“Of course not.”
“Oh. No. Of course not.”
His blue eyes sparkled with wicked amusement. “Don’t look offended. I actually meant to compliment you. Learning about how cruel the world can be is a lesson that does not come easily to any of us, but you received quite an education today. Darling, if this were a seduction, we would not be sitting here holding hands.”
Exactly what would they be doing if a classic Boscastle seduction were under way? Jane wondered. The answers to that intriguing question would certainly keep her up until the wee small hours. She had quite a fertile imagination, and Sedgecroft could nourish it for several months.
“Lord Sedgecroft, if this is not a seduction,” she said, in as polite a tone as possible, “then precisely what is it? Another personal apology from your family?”
“That. And more.” He raised her hands to his chin, his smile warm and more than a little naughty. “It is a proposition.”
“A proposition.”
“No. Not what you are thinking. I understand how you feel after the humiliation you suffered today. Never have I felt more embarrassed by my family.” Never in truth, had he actually paid much notice to the sins the other members of his family were committing. He had heretofore been too busy sinning himself.
“Let me be blunt, Jane.”
“I’m afraid I cannot stop you.”
“A woman in your unfortunate position is in danger of becoming a pariah. It would take a man of character to marry you today. A man strong enough to ignore the opinions of others. I am not saying that such a man does not exist, but they are few and far between.”
Her cheeks flushed pink with annoyance. He had just described the man of her dreams, the man she would probably never find in the shallow waters of Society. She wondered if he even existed, or if she would die of loneliness waiting for him to appear. “Well, it was hardly all my fault.”
“Exactly. Which is why you should not b
e punished, and why I intend to court you, ostensibly, that is, to prove to the world you are still a desirable, eligible female.”
Jane was rendered speechless. What a cruel, unanticipated coil. Of course, she had foreseen a spell of social ostracism after being jilted today. She had expected to be mocked, to be pitied, to be ignored for quite some time.
But that a notorious scoundrel like Sedgecroft would take up her cause? That this indecently handsome man would sponsor her return to the marriage mart she had schemed to escape? It was the last thing in the world she’d imagined. It was both horribly conceited and endearing of him to suggest such a thing. To offer to protect her from the results of her own machinations. How did one react?
“I realize this is a shock.” His blue eyes teased her. “Do you find me too unattractive for our ‘courtship’?”
Oh, he had no idea. She found him so devastatingly attractive she could barely think straight. Which in Jane’s point of view did present a problem. “Well, you are rather, well—”
“More experienced than you?”
“Among other things,” she murmured.
He edged closer to her, squeezing her hands in encouragement. “My experience will only prove to your advantage.”
“Why do I doubt that statement?”
“I know all the games of love that are played in our world, Jane,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“I’m sure you do.”
“If Nigel does not return to make this situation right, I will help you find another young man who will. I shall investigate him personally before giving him my approval.” He winked at her, affecting a friendly tone. “The personal Boscastle seal, hmm?”
The very last thing she wanted, another matchmaker to bedevil her life. She cleared her throat, searching for words to thwart this undesirable conspiracy. “This is too kind of you, but—”
His beautifully molded mouth curved into another beguiling smile. “My reasons are not entirely unselfish. I am doing this to set an example for my family. God knows it is time that at least one Boscastle behave in a mature fashion.” He paused, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Of course I never thought it would be me.”
Her mind began to reel. What had she gotten herself into? Courted . . . by Sedgecroft. Well, it would be just a game to him, a plan to whip his unruly brood into a semblance of order, but she was not sure her emotions could take . . . this much man. She would perish of heart palpitations after an evening in his presence, and the problems that might arise did not bear predicting.
For a dangerous moment she considered confessing everything to him. But that would mean breaking a Bible vow to Nigel, probably ruining Nigel’s life. His parents would try to force him to have his marriage declared invalid. His new wife would be disgraced, as would the child she was carrying. Her own parents would disown her for disgracing them. She, Jane, who had hatched this plot with the best of intentions, would be made to feel very wicked indeed, her sins exposed to a merciless world. Who would understand her desire to carve out her own destiny?
“Lord Sedgecroft—”
“Oh, come now, Jane. Don’t frown at me like a governess. This will be fun. Whether you realize it or not, you are a very lovely woman.”
“Am I?”
“Oh, yes.”
She sighed. The man lived and breathed seduction without even being aware of it. He probably flirted in his sleep, and he was good at it, too. Just sitting beside him made her feel shivery and weak in the knees. Weak in the brain, too. Why couldn’t she come up with a plausible excuse to refuse his offer? No one would believe that she had attracted a man like the marquess.
“I believe . . . the truth is, I am too shy to pull this sort of thing off in a convincing way.”
His eyes locked with hers. “I shall be convincing enough for the two of us.”
She held her breath as he lifted his large hands to her shoulders in a powerful but gentle grip. If Nigel had dared to handle her in this fashion, she would have burst into laughter. But when Grayson touched her, the natural instinct came to close her eyes, submit . . . and enjoy.
She shivered as he brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheekbone. He did make a woman feel attractive, which she supposed was part of his appeal. “What are you doing?” she whispered, more curious than put off.
“Convincing you,” he answered, in a deep-timbered voice.
Jane hardly knew what to think as he took her face in his hands. But if her mind hung suspended in a sort of frozen curiosity, her physical being was certainly active, a welter of aching needs and fiery blushes. She was practically burned to a crisp by the time his mouth brushed her bottom lip in deliberate sensuality. Her heart thundered in heavy strokes that resounded through her body and faded into painful little throbs.
“Convincing me.” Her voice warbled with a faraway echo quality, a canary being lured from its cage. “Of what?”
“Hmm.” Grayson was disconcerted at his own reaction to their kiss. He foundered for several moments, a novelty in his vast realm of experience. The situation had taken an invigorating detour. She seemed quite sharp-witted for a woman in her position. He couldn’t decide whether this would prove to her advantage or not. It didn’t matter to him one way or another. How others perceived this might be something altogether different.
“Listen to me, Jane. I had not intended to make my point in exactly this way, but a tiger cannot be expected to change its stripes overnight. Something in your nature tempts the primitive male in me. What I mean to say,” he went on quietly, “is if your belief in your own desirability has been damaged today, I know several mutually satisfying ways to restore it.”
“I—”
“Even if it is only a game.”
“A game?” she said shakily.
“A game does not preclude a little pleasure, does it?” he asked softly. “Your future has not ended at an abandoned chapel altar.”
Besides, she had a lush body fashioned for lovemaking, for scattering a man’s wits, he thought, his pulse quickening with a desire that bordered on dangerous.
She shifted, and he felt his entire body tighten. The sensual brush of her hair against his hand, the pliant softness of her mouth, unleashed a lust in him that obliterated reason. Without even trying, she undid him. A shock of erotic anticipation sent a lightning bolt of energy down his spine. Every nerve ending in his body reacted, primed for sex.
“Oh,” she whispered in astonishment, raising a hand to push his shoulder, only to drop it limply into her lap.
He flicked his tongue across her full bottom lip. Her breath came in soft little gasps that aroused him even more. “Don’t you dare move,” he warned her gently. “I’m not finished yet.”
He tightened his hold on her, groaning as he felt the plush contours of her plump breasts press against his chest. He ran his free hand lightly down her shoulders to her back, tracing her ribs with his fingers. Of course it wasn’t enough. Every feral male impulse urged him to ease her deeper into the sofa.
“Lord Sedgecroft—”
“Ssh. It isn’t polite to interrupt me when I’m kissing you.”
She gave an uneven laugh. “You dare to speak of being polite when—”
“You’re interrupting again.”
“One of us ought to show some self-control.”
He smiled at her. “Ah, yes. The wedding guests did remark on the self-control you displayed today.”
“I suspect they made a few remarks about you, too. Self-control was probably not mentioned.”
He laughed, delighted by her directness. So the lady was not all she seemed. A pleasant surprise, and one that would make this more enjoyable. God forbid he had to escort a timid miss about town. His lips brushed hers again, coaxing a soft gasp from her. The tip of his tongue slid into her mouth, and he felt a flame ignite desire in the deepest recesses of his belly. She wasn’t exactly complying, but she didn’t resist him either. He liked the taste of her, the faint nectar of peach. He liked the lush
contours of her body, too. The warm press of her breasts against his shoulder. Soft, intriguing. He clenched his hand to stop himself from touching her.
“You’re not finished yet, are you?” she asked faintly.
“Not quite.”
“Very well. Continue.”
She leaned back. His blue eyes smoldering, he followed and pinned her to the cushions with his hard-muscled weight. Cool as garden mist, he thought, but the erratic pulse beating in the hollow of her throat did not escape his detection.
He tasted the shape and texture of her moist, pliant lips; absorbed the sighs that escaped her; ate at her mouth with ruthless skill until he could feel her involuntary shivers of excitement.
She excited him, too, more than he’d expected, this fatalistic young woman in her wrinkled wedding dress and naked feet. He liked the fact that she wasn’t weeping her head off or screaming for revenge. With a sigh, he summoned what remained of his control; he slid his hand down her shoulder, skimming the curve of her elbow before closing firmly around her waist.
“Well,” she said when she had begun to breathe again. “Well.”
“There are times in life when one has to forgo a plan in favor of impulse,” he said calmly, as he subdued the craving that had gripped him.
Jane gave him a reprimanding look. “Which does not mean one should act aggressively on every impulse that arises.”
“We would not be sitting here discussing the matter if that were the case.”
“What would . . . no, never mind. I shouldn’t ask.”
“I don’t mind,” he said with a smile.
“I’m sure you don’t.” Jane sighed. His eyes had darkened to midnight blue, the desire in their depths naked and unabashed. The very essence of devilish seduction. “You aren’t going to apologize either, are you?”
“For what?” he asked in amusement.
“If I have to explain, then I suppose there is no point in pursuing the subject.”
What subject? Grayson almost inquired, not quite sure whether he had offended her or not. Her reaction to the day’s events was not exactly what he’d expected. He told himself her acceptance was a relief, no awkward emotions to deal with. But something seemed a little off. Perhaps he had embarrassed her, overwhelmed her. Yes, that must be it. The Boscastle family tended to intimidate the weaker souls in life.
The Seduction of an English Scoundrel Page 4