Madeline didn’t know if she could credit the compliment, yet she couldn’t deny that Haviland seemed sincere. “I would rather be appreciated for my mind,” she finally muttered.
He smiled the beautiful, lazy smile that never failed to hold her spellbound. “I appreciate your mind also, believe me.”
She couldn’t fool herself that he wanted her, though. Deliberately, Madeline stiffened her spine, determined to resist that seductive smile.
“I see the problem, Lord Haviland,” she declared airily. “You cannot credit that I would refuse a wealthy, handsome earl. You are accustomed to having women swoon at your feet. But I am not in the habit of swooning.”
“I would be amazed if you were. And you should call me by my given name … Rayne.”
She tensed when he reached for her gloved hand. “I don’t wish to be on such intimate terms with you.”
“But I do. And I usually get my way, sweet Madeline.”
His eyes had softened with laughter and something else she couldn’t name. It looked almost like … desire.
She had to be mistaken. Or perhaps it was real and he had manufactured that look to weaken her defenses. If so, it was extremely effective.
It was even more effective when he took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. She could feel the heat even through the fine kidskin.
“I find you to be a most singular woman,” he murmured, “and I want you very much.”
Madeline herself wanted desperately to snatch her hand away, and yet she couldn’t find the strength; he had robbed her of willpower with the slightest touch. And when he slid his other arm around her shoulders, her already racing pulse went wild.
“You do not want me, Lord Haviland,” she accused in a high, breathless voice. “You are merely trying to persuade me to accept your offer.”
“Of course I am trying to persuade you.” Abandoning her hand, he reached up to brush her cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. “As for wanting you … I see I will just have to convince you of that also.”
She strained away from him, to no avail. Haviland bent his head, letting his mouth hover over hers, heating her lips. When she sucked in a breath of anticipation, he took full advantage and claimed her mouth.
Madeline quivered at the enchanting feel of his kiss … the warm, tempting friction, the slow thrust of his tongue. As it tangled with hers, stroking, desire shimmered through her.
His intoxicating mouth was arousing her just as he’d planned. Alarmed by his success, she made one last effort to resist, pressing her palm against his chest, feeling the hard muscles there beneath the rich layers of fabric.
Unexpectedly, her protest resulted in Haviland breaking off his kiss and lifting his head.
“K-kissing me,” she rasped in a shaken voice, “will only prove that you are an expert at throwing females into flutters.”
“Am I throwing you into flutters, sweetheart?”
“You know you are … devil take you.”
“But I have barely begun.”
His voice was teasing but his eyes were hot.
“Lord Haviland … you cannot seduce me—”
“I can, love.” His hand shifted to her nape, his fingers splaying against her sensitive skin. “Now hush and let me kiss you properly.”
He bent and took her lips more forcefully this time, angling his head so that he could go even deeper. Madeline forgot to breathe altogether as a searing rush of heat flooded her. His taste was hot and heady as he drank her in, his mouth coaxing, teasing, possessing.
His devastating kiss went on for an eternity. Her head swimming with pleasure, Madeline was only vaguely aware that both his arms had closed around her, and that she was clinging to him in return. Her fingers clutched at his powerful shoulders to keep her from drowning in the wonderful sensations he stirred in her.
She was even less aware that he had unfastened the hooks at the back of her gown until at last he gave her one final, heart-stealing kiss and raised his head.
“Ah, my sweet Madeline, how can you doubt your delightful charms?”
She opened her eyes, dazed, panting for air.
“You have such lovely eyes,” he murmured in a husky rasp, gazing down at her.
His own eyes had grown heavy-lidded and dark with passion, she realized as his gaze swept lower, over her face.
“And you have the most luscious lips….”
His head dipped so that he could nibble on her lips.
“And your breasts …”
He slid the lavender crepe of her bodice down over her shoulders so that her undergarments were exposed. Before she could protest his brazen action, he dealt with the modest neckline of her shift and pulled the edge of her corset down so that the full mounds of her breasts burst free, exposing her bare nipples.
Her skin fairly burned as his heated gaze drank in the sight of her.
“Your breasts are magnificent,” he whispered before letting his hand follow his gaze.
She felt the caress of his fingers down her throat and over one ripe swell—and a shameful thrill raced through her when she understood his intent.
Then he cupped her fullness, his touch blatantly possessive, shockingly intimate. She gasped at the sharp sensation spearing through her. His thumb swirled in scorching circles over her nipple, prodding it to a tingling erection. Then bending her back over his arm, he lowered his head again to capture the taut peak in his mouth.
Madeline whimpered and arched against him as he coaxed the pebbled tip with his tongue, laving, stroking, teasing. He was lighting sparks in every nerve ending in her body, kindling hot embers low in her feminine center, deep between her thighs.
After a moment, though, he left off the one breast to attend the other, first scattering hot, open kisses over her flesh, then claiming the nipple. His tongue and lips softly abraded the sensitive bud, alternately suckling and soothing.
The tender, ruthless seduction of his erotic mouth soon had Madeline shuddering with need. She was no longer fighting the ache he roused in her. Instead she gave herself up to the fiery delight of his caresses, straining weakly toward his seeking mouth, her hands caught in his hair, pulling his head closer as she tried hopelessly to ease the longing that welled so fiercely inside her….
Unaccountably, Haviland paused with his mouth hot on her breast. A long heartbeat passed before he left off suckling her.
“Damnation,” he muttered thickly under his breath. “What the devil am I about?”
He eased away, staring down at her as if suddenly realizing he had half undressed her—although Madeline was trembling so badly that he had to continue to support her with his arm.
Her fevered senses had difficulty registering that he had halted his wicked attentions, yet she suddenly had no trouble realizing that she was on wanton display for him, sprawled there on the window seat with her clothing in shameful disarray, her naked breasts rising and falling with her uneven breaths.
Her cheeks flushed hotly even before he added almost to himself, “I let myself get carried away by your charms.”
He sounded rueful, as if he truly regretted having to control himself. “I had best stop before I forget that I am a gentleman and take you here and now.”
Inexplicably, a flood of disappointment washed over Madeline—which left her furious at herself. How in heaven’s name could she be disappointed that Haviland had taken his lovemaking no further?
She sat up, shaken, and fumbled with her corset. When she had covered her breasts, she jerked her gown up over her shoulders to make herself decent. But when she would have risen from the window seat, Haviland put a hand on her arm to stay her.
“Allow me to help you dress.”
Since he could reach the back of her gown more easily than she, Madeline waited restlessly while he turned her and refastened the hooks. The moment he finished, though, she jumped up and moved away, putting a safer distance between them. She stood there halfway across the
room, breathing hard, her chest still rising and falling rapidly as she strove to regain some semblance of composure.
Haviland didn’t follow her, thankfully. Instead he remained where he was on the window seat.
When he was silent, Madeline glanced back to find him adjusting the front opening of his breeches. When he smoothed the satin fabric over the swollen bulge at his groin, he grimaced as if he were in pain.
His half smile was definitely rueful when he caught her watching him. “If you doubted your effect on me, darling, you have your proof.”
She had obviously aroused him, she realized, her face growing even warmer.
“So, are you ready to accept my proposal yet?” he asked casually.
Was he jesting? Madeline wondered, turning fully to stare at him. Did he honestly expect her to surrender so easily? Haviland had tried to tempt her into agreeing to wed him, exploiting her weakness for him, but she was not quite such a gullible mark.
“You had best return to the ball, my lord, before you are missed,” she suggested in a terse voice.
“My name is Rayne.”
“Rayne, then. Will you please go?”
“Yes, on one condition.”
She eyed him warily. “What condition?”
“That you agree at least to consider my proposal of marriage.”
A surge of rebellious defiance swept through her. Haviland was clearly a master of manipulation, determined to have his way. She suspected he wouldn’t give up trying to seduce her until he won … unless she gave the appearance of yielding.
Attempting to hide her vexation, Madeline tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully. “I might be willing to consider your proposal. At least I won’t reject it out of hand. But I have a condition of my own. You will let me accompany you to Mrs. Sauville’s soirée Tuesday evening and aid you in retrieving Freddie’s letters.”
Haviland’s gaze narrowed on her. “Freddie was right. You are a managing female.”
“I never denied it,” she pointed out sweetly.
Amusement tugged at his mouth. “You are your father’s daughter also, Madeline. You drive a hard bargain.”
“I will take that as a compliment, Lord Haviland. But you may address me as Miss Ellis.”
He still seemed reluctant to let her participate, so she summarized their respective conditions. “You will take me along Tuesday evening and give me a role to play. Who knows? I might actually make you a good accomplice. If nothing else, I can keep Mrs. Sauville occupied while you search for the letters in her rooms. And in exchange, I will give serious deliberation to your offer of marriage.”
“Very well,” he responded finally.
“Then we are agreed on the terms?”
“Yes.” Haviland stood and strode slowly toward her. “But I want another kiss to seal our bargain.”
“No!” Madeline exclaimed, holding up her hands and backing away until he halted. “Absolutely not.” She couldn’t let him touch her again. Her lips still felt the fire of his kisses; her breasts still throbbed with sensation from his brazen caresses.
“Lord Haviland, will you please go?” she repeated with more urgency. “Your adoring debutantes will be pining for your attention.”
His mouth curved. “No doubt you are right.”
He seemed satisfied with his victory for the moment, Madeline thought with relief. His gaze swept over her one last time before he went to the table to fetch his lamp. Then he turned toward the door.
She held her breath, watching his graceful, muscular body until he was gone. Renewed dismay filling her, Madeline brought her fingers up to touch her aching lips. Haviland’s seduction had left her aroused and reeling. Worse, she’d just made it easier for his sensual assault to continue by letting him believe she might eventually accept his proposal.
Doubtless she was unwise to leave the matter unresolved. She was probably also unwise to press him to let her help in recovering the letters. The less she had to do with Haviland the better, for she clearly had no willpower where he was concerned.
She couldn’t let herself yield to him, though, no matter how stunning his caresses, Madeline warned herself. She couldn’t give in to her yearning for him, regardless of how powerfully all her instincts and emotions were protesting.
Surrender would leave her heart much too vulnerable to hurt.
Even now, she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach, her resolution might be too late, for she was very much afraid she was already falling in love with him.
Chapter Six
Simply being with Haviland is exhilarating, Maman, which bodes ill for my resolve to refuse his proposal.
“You are not in love,” Madeline repeatedly told herself over the course of the next few days. “It is impossible to fall in love so abruptly, with a man you scarcely know.”
It is indeed possible, dearest, Maman insisted on arguing. I did so with your Papa within a few short days of meeting him.
Madeline strove to ignore her mother’s dissenting voice. Whatever her feelings for Haviland, she was certain she would be wise to turn down his shocking proposal of marriage.
Yet that didn’t mean she could stop dwelling on his offer during her waking hours or entirely quell the secret yearnings of her heart. When she slept, her preoccupation with him was even worse, to her immense frustration. If Haviland had filled her dreams before, his erotic caresses the night of the ball made her vivid dreams about him even more potent.
Except in her wildest fantasies, however, Madeline knew he was not the husband for her. Not when all he wanted was a cold-hearted contractual alliance.
On the other hand, she admitted, he was right on one score: Such an enormous, life-changing decision should be made with careful consideration and not rejected completely out of hand.
Thankfully, she had her immediate future to distract her. Madeline tried her utmost to concentrate on her new employment as she established a routine at Danvers Hall—her temporary lodgings until her situation was completely settled—and learned her duties as a teacher at the Freemantle Academy for Young Ladies.
Arabella was kindness itself on Saturday morning when she took Madeline on a tour of the grounds and buildings. They stopped first at the office to meet Miss Jane Caruthers, the elegant spinster who ran the day-to-day operations of the academy, and the newest teacher, a lively older widow, Mrs. Penelope Melford.
Both ladies were friendly and welcoming, to Madeline’s relief, and Arabella promised that the other part-time teacher would be just as pleased to have her on the staff.
“My good friend, Tess Blanchard, is away at a house party just now,” Arabella remarked, “but I will have the pleasure of introducing you once she returns. You will like Tess, I am certain.”
Arabella went on to explain the school’s design as they toured the premises. “Our academy was actually converted from a former country estate so as to prepare our pupils for the varied experiences they will encounter in high society. The majority of classes are held here in the main manor, but we have a smaller, more formal mansion that is representative of a Mayfair residence, complete with a large drawing room and ballroom. We also have our own stable and park to practice outdoor skills, and a dormitory to lodge the students who board here full-time—which includes most of them. And we are fortunate to be close enough to London that we can attend plays and operas so our young ladies can practice their social graces in authentic settings.”
“Didn’t you say that your sister Lily is away on her wedding journey?” Madeline asked.
“Yes, and she will be gone for several more weeks, so Penelope Melford has taken over teaching Lily’s outdoor activities. You will primarily be assuming Roslyn’s role, Madeline. I believe she expressed her gratitude to you at the ball last evening. Roslyn is the real scholar among us, although you would not know it to look at her. She hated to abandon her pupils, but Arden’s responsibilities with the government require that he remain in London much of the year, so Roslyn will be unable t
o maintain her normal duties as she would have liked.”
Madeline was highly impressed with everything she saw, and by the time they returned to the main manor, the students had finished breakfasting and had begun Mrs. Melford’s class on conversation.
The widow had a natural charm that made her instruction extremely enjoyable. Thus, at the conclusion of the class, Madeline tried to adopt that same pleasant demeanor when Arabella introduced her.
The young ladies showed only polite interest until Madeline’s French origins were revealed, and then they paid avid attention to every word she spoke, eagerly peppering her with questions—which not only boded well for her reception but gave her some ideas about how she might approach her own classes that were to begin on Monday morning.
Upon returning to Danvers Hall, Madeline devoted the afternoon to preparing her lesson on French grammar and vocabulary, an exercise that made her lament the poor references she had at her disposal.
On Sunday, she attended service at the village church and accepted an invitation afterward to take luncheon with Miss Caruthers and Mrs. Melford, where they discussed the importance of Madeline’s classes and how to increase their effectiveness.
“You see, Miss Ellis,” Jane Caruthers explained, “we believe that learning correct pronunciation of a foreign language will give our young ladies better command of their own native tongue, and speaking English with proper accents will help them go much further in society—or at the very least, help them avoid automatically being labeled as coming from the lower classes.”
“I understand,” Madeline replied, recognizing Arabella’s theory, “and I completely agree. But I hope to find a better French primer than the one our pupils now use.”
Miss Caruthers nodded in approval. “An excellent idea. You might try Hatchard’s bookshop in London. They have the largest selection of books anywhere. And of course, the academy will fund any purchases you make on our pupils’ behalf.”
Madeline greatly enjoyed getting to know her fellow teachers, but she had the rest of the day to herself, since Lord and Lady Danvers had left that morning for London. Before taking tea alone, Madeline started a letter to her brother to tell him of her unexpected change in fortune and her new employment.
To Tame a Dangerous Lord Page 10