Seduction Wears Sapphires

by Renee Bernard

  “Oh, the usual!” she moaned, trying to pull her ruined skirts back down over her ankles. “Wind in my hair, gracefully chasing you down to kick you in the shins!”

  “Ah, yes! The usual . . .” He lost his battle of self-control and grinned at her signature candor. “Perhaps you can kick me later.”

  “Don’t think I won’t!” she said, a small smile echoing his as her humor returned. She examined her bloodied palms, scraped from her untrained landing on the drive’s gravel. “Mrs. Clark will fuss about these!”

  Ashe had had enough. He swept her up off the ground into his arms and lifted her to carry her toward the house.

  “I’m perfectly capable of walking!” she said breathlessly, forced to put her arms around his neck for balance. “Mr. Blackwell, put me down!”

  “No.” The brief answer irritated her, but Ashe didn’t care. Relief was powering a surge of possessiveness that he couldn’t deny and didn’t want to.

  She began to kick and twist in his arms, but it was all too easy to tighten his hold and capture her more tightly against him.

  “Is everything all right, sir? Should I send for Dr. West?” Godwin offered as Ashe marched back into the house with his uncooperative prize.

  “Everything is fine, Godwin. Miss Townsend was just enjoying her first riding lesson. Please inform Mrs. Clark to draw Miss Townsend a hot bath and send up a bottle of brandy.” He turned back to speak to Godwin, as if carrying American women through the house was an ordinary occurrence. “Also, send word to Foster’s we won’t make dinner tonight.”

  She stopped kicking, but Ashe knew he hadn’t won the day as he headed up the stairs.

  “It wasn’t that big of a puddle, Mr. Blackwell. I’m not sure that a bath is in order,” she argued primly, the color in her cheeks turning to a dusky pink. “It’s the expensive dress you purchased that bore the brunt of it.”

  “You’ll think differently when your muscles and joints start to protest later—not to mention your backside.”

  She squeaked in outrage at his indelicate mention of her bruised bottom, and Ashe’s chest tightened at the dear little sound. He was becoming far too fond of Miss Townsend’s unguarded expressions.

  As he reached the door to her bedroom, he set her gingerly down on her feet, noticing as he did that she’d lost one of her new shoes in her brief battle with Juno. “There, I’ve put you down.”

  “You are an imperious and infuriating man, Mr. Blackwell.”

  “I’d apologize, but I think I should wait for just another moment.”

  “Another moment for what purpose?”

  “For this.”

  He leaned over and, in an instance of pure impulse, kissed her. He credited shock for holding her in place, and then there was nothing of thought or strategies. Instead of a tender first kiss, this was about reclamation and possession of the sweet delights he’d already sampled. Her lips parted for his, a spontaneous surrender that was made all the more potent in its unpracticed passions. Soft and succulent, her mouth became a feast of sensation and taste that made him drunk with raw lust. As his arms tightened around her, pressing her against the heat of his frame, there was nothing left of reason. There was only hunger for her and the scalding dance of her mouth against his as she matched his needs, never pulling away but instead proving that his reserved little chaperone was a tempestuous thing—warm and willing.

  It was the heady confirmation that the chemistry between them the other night wasn’t a fleeting dream or misguided game. A small sound escaped from her, a purring sigh that added to the strength of the storm inside of him. His cock was a searing weight that ignored civility, and Ashe’s hands slid down her back to cup the ripe curve of her ass and lift her up against him. Even through untold layers of petticoats, he could feel the delightful fire between her thighs and he knew he was lost.

  At last, she began to pull her mouth from his, gasping for air as she wriggled to try to achieve some distance between them. “You . . .” she whispered.

  “Would you like that apology now?” he offered, releasing her slowly to set her back on her feet.

  Before she could summon her wits to answer, he stepped back at the first echoes of Godwin’s footsteps coming up the stairs. If he’d thought it would feel better to reveal that the woman who visited him as she dreamt was truly the same one that irritated him so consistently when awake—he was mistaken.

  Instead Ashe felt like the worst cad.

  He’d overstepped in both realms and made himself a depraved cliché.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Townsend. You have my word, for whatever weight it still holds, that that will never happen again.” He kept his voice low, grimly grounding out his confession. “I have likely been in the wrong since we first met at Bellewood, and didn’t realize . . . I am apparently so far into the dark woods, as my grandfather phrased it, that I have forgotten myself. Please forgive me.” He gave her a curt nod and walked away, unwilling to withstand the devastation and hurt in her eyes.

  She leaned against the closed door and tried to catch her breath. It was the first time she’d ever been kissed and Caroline was stunned at the revelation of it. And there was no denying she had been truly and thoroughly kissed, and even worse, that she’d welcomed it.

  Welcomed it. Reveled in it. Gotten lost in it.

  It was one thing to find her host attractive and distracting, but this was different. This was a hunger she’d never experienced before, a longing so powerful she’d yielded up everything she was to him—and she’d wanted more. Only to discover that whatever had made him reach for her had also caused him untold pain.

  If he were simply toying with her, she’d have expected some laughter or a continuation of the sarcastic lesson he’d initiated in the carriage after the dinner at the Bedfords’. But he hadn’t looked like a man amused by a game or gloating in his superiority over her. . . . The heartless rogue had looked lost somehow.

  But I’m the one with the heart to lose.

  A gentle knock on the other side of the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Miss Townsend?” Mr. Godwin inquired from the hallway. “May I come in?”

  She opened the door to a very worried-looking Mr. Godwin holding a tray of refreshments, including a very out of place bottle of brandy. “In a panic, Cook has thrown every sweet she had on hand onto a plate but then thought to add a bowl of broth, so I’m not sure what you’ll make of this, miss.”

  “You can just set it on the desk, Mr. Godwin, and tell her I’m overwhelmed at her thoughtfulness.” She stepped back to allow him access, wishing she weren’t so much trouble for the house. “There’s no need for panic. I just introduced myself to a mud puddle.”

  “And to Juno,” he added with a smile, setting down the large tray. “Cook will send up heartier fare for your dinner, and in the meantime, Mrs. Clark is making sure the water is heated for your bath.”

  “Will Mr. Blackwell be dining in this evening?”

  Godwin shook his head. “He has made other plans.”

  “Oh.” Caroline practically winced, dreading another quiet dinner in her room spent worrying about where her handsome charge had gone and when he would come back. She felt increasingly helpless and useless in her role, and the day’s events had only added to her confusion and anxiety. Is Ashe friend or foe? I cannot say which would worry me more. . . .

  Mr. Godwin continued, “Oh, and Mrs. Clark wanted me to reassure you that the candlesticks were recovered. I’m not sure what the message means, but Daisy was eager that you should hear the news.”

  “Where did she find them?” Caroline felt breathless with relief.

  “Mrs. Clark didn’t say.”

  “I’ve come up to ready you for your bath, miss!” Daisy hailed from the open doorway.

  Caroline started to reassert that she didn’t need a bath but caught sight of her reflection in a mirror on the wall. She’d smeared mud and blood on her cheek reaching up to push her hair off her face, and she resembled a derelic
t with her chignon falling down and a splatter of mud across the front of her white blouse. He kissed me looking like that? “Oh, dear! Yes, perhaps a bath . . .”

  Mr. Godwin nodded. “I’ll leave you in good hands then, and of course, you’ll ring if there’s anything else you need.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Godwin.”

  He closed the door behind him, and she was immediately enveloped in Daisy’s lively chatter and gentle ministrations. “What a fuss they’re making downstairs! My poor James! He got an earful from Mrs. Clark about not taking as good a care of you as he should, and then they was all giving him such a dressing-down I thought he’d melt into a puddle!”

  “Oh, no! You must tell Mrs. Clark the fault was entirely mine! I wasn’t thinking!”

  Daisy nodded, guiding her to the chair in front of the vanity table. “A man’ll do that to you, mark those words! My cousin Jenny used to get so angry at her beau that she’d just start swinging pots and pans at the man. Her aim became so deadly, she knocked the sense right out of him. Regrets it to this day! Course, he earned a cracked skull bein’ a worthless scrap of a man, but . . . she’s forgotten all that now that he’s as meek as a lamb. Just smiles and does whatever he’s told! An improvement, some might say.” Daisy picked up the silver comb to begin taking down the rest of Caroline’s ruined twists and braids, releasing Caroline’s muted gold curls to fall down her back. “Not that we were eavesdropping to know about your quarrel with Mr. Blackwell.”

  Caroline wasn’t sure what to protest against—that Ashe had robbed her of her senses or that the entire house had overheard their terrible exchange. “It was a simple misunderstanding.”

  Daisy’s silence spoke volumes as she set the comb aside and picked up the brush. “As you say, miss.”

  Caroline’s eyes dropped to the vanity’s marble surface, wishing she could remember propriety before she started raising her voice and allowing her temper to get the better of her.

  “Mind you,” Daisy went on, her tone friendly and full of comfort, “I think it’s good for a man like Mr. Blackwell to have someone who’s not afraid to speak her mind. With his wealth and pretty looks, there’s not many a woman that would square off to give him trouble, and my mother always used to say that adversity makes the man.”

  Caroline smiled. “Your mother sounds very clever.”

  “She was! And she had a lot of experience squaring off with my father, so there you have it!” Daisy set the brush down and went over to the wardrobe to retrieve Caroline’s dressing gown. Daisy helped her undress, her fingers nimbly making quick work of the numerous buttons and ties. “Mrs. Clark just had them carry up a bit of hot water from the kitchens to make sure everything was ready for you.”

  “Thank you, Daisy.”

  Within minutes, Caroline was in the wash room, ensconced in the claw-footed tub, up to her chin in steaming luxury scented with lemons and sweet water. Despite all her protests, the bath’s magic was instantly apparent and every ache and pain began to dissipate. The distance from Juno to the ground looked much scarier once I was on the dear mare than it had from the yard. I can’t believe that was me, ordering servants about and trying to gallop down the road without a single hint of a plan.

  “Oh, well.” She sighed. “At least I didn’t hit him with an iron pan.”

  Daisy stepped back inside with a tray of soap and warm cloths. “Men have earned worse.”

  “Oh!” Caroline blushed. “Well, lucky then there wasn’t a pan at hand.”

  “Miss? If you don’t mind me asking . . .” Daisy set the tray down and knelt next to the bath. “Not that we was eavesdropping, mind.”

  “Well noted. I would never accuse you of eavesdropping.”

  “But if you’re to keep an eye on him—and it’s at his grandfather’s request, well, I mean, it’s the comings and goings that sounds like trouble, I’d have to agree.” Daisy spoke without looking at her directly, instead rearranging the lotions and soaps on the side table. “But James, well, he’s much beholden to you for defending him and I am, too, for keeping my man in service. And if you wished to know where his carriages go . . .”

  “Th-that would be incredibly helpful, Daisy.”

  “Mind, it’s no help when he rides off on his own, but we’ll do our best. Especially if there’s a bit of a warning. Harder to say when the master leaves in a rush, but at least James could give you an idea of where they’d been.” Daisy looked at her directly, her cornflower blue eyes shining with concern. “They’ll be no mercy for either of us if Mr. Blackwell finds out, miss. But you’ve been so kind, I know you’ll not say anything to him.”

  So much for being too embarrassed to ask her. . . . Caroline shook her head. “I’d see myself turned out first, Daisy.”

  “I knew you’d say something like that, and that’s what I told James. And that it was only right to help you.” Daisy held out one of the cloths. “I understand you’re not going to the Fosters’ dinner.”

  “My undignified stunt caused Mr. Blackwell to cancel our engagement, but I can’t say that I’m truly disappointed.” Caroline wasn’t sure she could have faced the scrutiny of strangers after the day she’d had. Even now, the lingering memory of his kiss and abrupt withdrawal afterward made her feel vulnerable and on edge. “Mr. Godwin said he’s made plans to go out again tonight.”

  “We’ll see.” Daisy sat back on her heels. “For now, he’s locked himself in his study for the night, prowling about in there like a caged lion. If James hears differently, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, Daisy.” Caroline sighed. “I . . . I don’t need anything else for now.”

  “Yes, Miss Townsend. Ring if you think of something and I’ll come straight away.” Daisy stood with a smile and left the room to allow her some privacy.

  Caroline sank back into the warm water until it touched her chin.

  She tried to convince herself that nothing had really changed. She was still charged with watching over him and still committed to her promise to Grandfather Walker. But everything had changed.

  I am undeniably not immune to Mr. Ashe Blackwell’s charms.

  Chapter

  11

  Worthley’s grand mansion was filled to capacity with a glittering whirl of London’s elite, each vying to outshine the other as they reveled in an extraordinary social Season. Ashe could only watch in wonder as “his American” was sought after for every dance, garnering admirers and holding her own as if she’d attended hundreds of grand balls. Her dress was a revelation, and their playful exchange at the dressmaker’s came back to haunt him. The shimmering silk was an ethereal shade of silvery blue that evoked an icy waterfall. The draped fabric of the generous skirt was elegant without any of the lace flounces and flowers the other women drowned in, accenting her tiny waist and generous curves. She was a breathing confection of muted gold and blue, his Indian star sapphire brought to life.

  This is no wallflower, shyly waiting for attention. She’s something else entirely, and I’m the fool who cannot seem to go a single day without wanting to kiss her or strangle her. Although lately, it’s been far too much about wanting to kiss the creature for my comfort!

  He’d practically locked himself in his rooms since he’d “mashed” her outside her bedroom door, banishing all but Godwin to bring him trays on the condition that the man didn’t utter a single word.

  Ashe hadn’t trusted himself to go out, entirely too aware that his sexual frustration had gained a ravenous edge that defied logic. He was no longer confident that it was abstinence alone that had given his desires such stinging tenacity. Especially since his fantasies now all revolved around one petite and impertinent American who was as alluring splattered with mud as she was swathed in silk.

  Mrs. Grantley, an acquaintance of his grandfather’s, had met them at the event to oversee Miss Townsend’s attendance and play the matronly chaperone, and Ashe hadn’t resented the interference. Tonight, he was going to demonstrate once and for all his self-control,
discipline, and power to ignore sleepwalking sirens—or kill himself in the attempt.

  “Mrs. Grantley,” Caroline began again, “I don’t really dance. Perhaps if you explained to some of these gentlemen that they are risking their personal safety it would—”

  “Tosh!” Mrs. Grantley huffed. “Of course you can dance! Besides, no one expects you to know all the latest figures, being hindered as you are by your American upbringing!”

  “I’m not sure I would describe it as a hindrance to be Amer—”

  “You’ll dance!” Mrs. Grantley was an immovable object, and Ashe had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as the color in Caroline’s cheeks betrayed her ire, but she fanned herself and gave up the debate. She looked at him to see if he might prove a potential ally, but Ashe quickly looked away.

  “Is Mr. Blackwell dancing?” Caroline asked Mrs. Grantley, as if he weren’t standing at her side.

  Ashe shook his head curtly, and Mrs. Grantley’s brow furrowed as she answered, “I-I’d say it seems unlikely.”

  Caroline’s fan slowed and she squared her shoulders. “What a pity! Just think of all the disappointed women who will regret missing their chance. . . .”

  Ashe cleared his throat, unable to stop himself from responding. “I hardly think they’ll grieve.”

  “Really? Lady Fitzgerald made it clear that every woman in England was eager to take her turn in your arms,” Caroline said archly.

  Mrs. Grantley gasped, and Ashe grinned despite his vows. “Are they? Every woman?”

  “Clearly, Lady Fitzgerald has an exaggerated impression of your influence.” Caroline’s look was ice-cold dismissal. “I can’t speak for Mrs. Grantley, but I’d wager that I know of at least one lady who would rather embrace a beehive.”

  “She sounds like a very sensible creature. I shall have to make a point of introducing myself and commending the lady.”