Shayla Black

by Strictly Seduction

  He willed restraint and patience. Life and business had taught him never to show his enemies any weakness. It would not do for Lady Madeline Sedgewick to know how dangerously deep his desire for her ran.

  #

  An hour later, Maddie sat within Brock’s theater box, clutching a handkerchief in her gloved hands, gawking at the opulence. He had wonderful seats. Expensive ones. Her dress was all the finest, as his coach had been. Even now, attendants buzzed about them, ridiculously eager to please. Everything screamed that Brock had amassed a huge fortune. Seeing the evidence of that made her realize just how resourceful he’d been to grow a tidy sum of money into an enormous fortune in a handful of years. If she wasn’t so busy despising him, she might tell him that she respected his accomplishments.

  Beside her, he brushed a speck of lint that could only exist in his imagination from his immaculate ebony evening coat. His hand brushed her arm—for the third time in ten minutes.

  A fresh tingle danced across her skin. She folded her hands in her lap, doing her damnedest to ignore him.

  With a grin, he stretched his arm behind her chair. While he toyed with her life, it was a merely a game to him.

  Maddie tensed, readying her sharp tongue, then… his thumb brushed the back of her neck, a silky caress that spread a shiver through her entire body.

  Squirming as far away as her seat allowed, Maddie cursed her fluttering stomach. How could he affect her so? She’d hoped that the harsh lesson he’d dealt her about love and betrayal would permanently curb any desire she might again feel for the manipulative rogue.

  No such luck.

  Beside her, a smile lifted the corners of Brock’s full lips, as if he knew he made her nervous and enjoyed that fact. He looked devastating in full evening black, serving only to further fluster her. The man was entirely too self-assured. And infuriating.

  The scent of ale clogged the air as pot boys dispensing refreshments to the thickening crowd did little to distract her. Maddie stared resolutely at the green baize curtain, ignoring the curious stares of the ladies in attendance, whispering behind their fans about her choice of escort, the fact that he sat scandalously close, and touched her with such familiarity.

  Brock had played this cleverly. Rumors would surely start swirling that they were headed to the altar. Or that she’d fallen below her station and become his mistress. The cad!

  “This is one of my favorite plays,” Brock whispered, his mouth mere inches from her ear. The deep tones of his velvet voice caressed her. She repressed a shiver, remaining mute.

  Her silence didn’t deter him.

  “I recalled that you like Shakespeare, so when I heard of this rendition, I thought it perfect.”

  Maddie glanced down at the program in his hands. The Taming of the Shrew.

  Her eyes narrowed as she snapped her gaze back to his sinfully masculine face and hissed, “If I’m a shrew, you bounder, why wed me? Pick another impoverished widow who does not despise you.”

  “Ah, but then I would not have you to tame.”

  When his smile widened, she felt the impact of that slow, suggestive grin all the way to her belly...and lower. Why could he make her feel this wretched desire? Make her think of deep kisses shared, damp bodies locked in desire, covered by nothing more than sweet spring air?

  “You will not tame me,” she vowed. “Marriage would only make me despise you more.”

  He leaned closer. Her stomach tightened, quivered. That green stare of his teased and dared. “Don’t challenge me, Maddie. You know I will always accept.”

  That, he would. Brock had always goaded her into the impulsive. She must think more clearly before she spoke.

  “I merely point out the impractical notion of wedding someone you dislike.”

  His gaze touched her face before dropping to caress the swells of her breasts exposed by her dress. “You have other qualities that make up for the impracticality.”

  Maddie trembled. The blackguard toyed with her. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he sprang the trap.

  The curtain rose and the actors trouped out to perform. Act one passed quickly, and Maddie’s thoughts raced. At intermission, he inquired if she would like a drink. At her refusal, he rose, not returning when the play resumed.

  Though she was loathe to admit it, his abandonment stung. She caught a glimpse of him in another box speaking with a wealthy baron. Catching her eye, he raised his glass to her. The baron watched with a prying gaze. Maddie looked away.

  Why did she watch him, stare even? She hated him for the pain he had once caused her in pursuit of his fortune, for the manner in which he now tried to force her to the altar to fatten his accounts further. But he’d always fascinated her, too. In the past five years, he had only grown more complex, enigmatic. And like a fool, she was allowing him to beguile her.

  Suddenly, he appeared beside her, a faint tinge of sandalwood, citrus, and man combined to intoxicate her senses.

  “That mysterious expression is intriguing, Maddie. Care to share your thoughts?” He handed her a glass of wine, eyes burning as if he could indeed read her thoughts of him.

  She pasted on a falsely sweet smile. “Pleasant visions of you in boiling oil, impaled by sharp knives.”

  He laughed, a rich, mirthful sound that resonated deep within her. “You wound me.”

  She shot him a tart glare. “That was the idea.”

  “And here I thought it was my irresistible charm making your eyes sparkle.”

  He settled into the chair beside her. His thigh brushed hers. Through the layers of her clothing, she felt his heat. Her skin tingled, came alive. Her breath caught. Cursing her reaction, Maddie drew her leg away and sipped her wine, pretending deep interest in the play now resuming.

  Brock whispered in her ear, “‘Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, thy virtues spoke of and thy beauty sounded, yet not so deeply as to thee belongs—Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.’”

  Maddie turned to Brock, utterly stunned. He had memorized Shakespeare?

  “‘Moved! In good time: let him that moved you hither, remove you hence.’” She glared at him. “Petruchio you are not.”

  The teasing light left Brock’s green eyes, replaced by something almost solemn. “You are fairer than his Kate.”

  With his velvet whisper, he very cleverly turned her ire to reluctant passion. His gaze held her captive in his silken seduction. Maddie’s belly fluttered. The flesh between her thighs slicked, aching with emptiness. She should be dishing him a well-deserved tongue-lashing, not glancing at his firm, capable hands and wondering how they might feel on her skin.

  “That look of yours might melt me, love,” he whispered.

  Tearing her gaze away, Maddie willed her racing heart to slow. He courted her with a fine dress and jewels, sweet wine, and now, pretty words. Damn it, she didn’t want to feel flattered. Or special. To him, she was the means to an end. Despite his attention, she dare not ever make the mistake of believing herself important to Brock again, except in his quest for wealth.

  But if he merely wanted to coerce her into marriage, why bother with all the trappings of romance?

  #

  Brock tucked away his notes on a diamond mine in South America, knowing the only gem to occupy his thoughts again this afternoon was Maddie.

  He wanted to see her thick auburn tresses spread across his sheets, ached to feel her naked breasts in his mouth, her nipples hard and straining against his tongue as he plunged his cock deep within her slick folds. Sighing, he closed his eyes, imagining her eyes stormy with desire for him, her voice trembling as she begged him to fuck her.

  But if her passion had matured these past five years, so had her determination. As a girl, Maddie had been eager to please. She had always worn a smile, spoken a friendly greeting, glowed with optimism. Today, she was guarded and stubborn—and resolved to have no part of him.

  No doubt she was furious with him for wishing to enter her life again in nearly the same
state in which he’d left it: that of her fiancé and lover. Still, she was not indifferent to him. Her rapid breathing, lingering stares, softening posture when he said just the right words gave her away. All that—and her poverty—played directly into his plans.

  He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to his note.

  “Have you heard from her yet?” Jack asked, peeking his head inside Brock’s office.

  “No.”

  “She’s going to be furious, you know.”

  Brock shrugged. “She can’t afford to refuse me.”

  “So you say.”

  Irritation pricked him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  “Will you fetch her if she doesn’t come ‘round today?”

  “She will come.”

  In the next instant, Brock’s secretary poked his head into the room. “Mr. Taylor, I believe you were expecting Lady Wolcott. Shall I show her in?”

  Flashing his father a triumphant grin that hid his relief, Brock nodded. “Indeed.”

  A moment later, Maddie stood in his portal, hopelessly wind-blown, wearing another drab frock that had seen better days. Cheeks flushed, she clutched a reticule with white fingers, looking angry enough to tear the skin from his body with her bare hands.

  Jack backed out of the room’s side door with a mirthful grin.

  “What is the meaning of this missive?” she hissed. “Do not presume that you can, at your convenience, demand my answer to your proposal.”

  Brock fought back disappointment. She would rather go to prison than marry one of his class? Than to wed him?

  “Your week is up. I merely meant to remind you that I require your decision today. And since you deem my proposal ridiculous, I assume you’ve chosen the debtor’s option.”

  His gut seized up in knots. If she called his bluff, Brock had no bloody idea what he’d do.

  “I did not say that.”

  “So you choose me?”

  “Blast you, I’ve chosen nothing! I cannot abide this ridiculous ultimatum.”

  “It is a fair trade, really. Your connections for my wealth. Security for your aunt in her dotage, all the finest for your daughter, even a generous dowry.”

  “That, sir, is very much like blackmail.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps, but I can offer you more if you wed me, Maddie.”

  Approaching her silently on the thick carpet of his office, Brock reached behind her to lock the door, closing them off from the rest of the world. He hovered, crowding her space. So close, he noted the fabric of her bodice stretched thin across her lush breasts—and hard nipples. So close, he saw the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat.

  “I can offer you ecstasy, sweet girl.” Her spicy-floral scent teased him mercilessly. Brock couldn’t not touch her. She made him so bloody hard. “I can fill your delectable body with pleasure that will take your breath away.”

  A flush crept up Maddie’s cheeks, even as she rolled her eyes. “Your modesty overwhelms. Alas, I am without interest.”

  “Hmm. So you are refusing my proposal?” He clenched a fist.

  “I am refusing to be handled like a trollop.”

  She turned for the door and grabbed the latch. Brock seized her arm and spun her to face him again, putting her back against the wall. With her tempting red lips parted inches below his own and her body so near, he couldn’t stay away.

  He curled his fingers around her nape and dragged her closer. “I will touch you as a woman should be touched by her lover. It won’t be polite. I won’t let you lie in the dark and think of England. I intend to make certain you’re with me through every thrust, every breath, every moan, every peak.”

  For a suspended moment, Maddie stared at him, her eyes darkening to the shade of a rain-drenched cloud. The pulse at her throat beat even faster.

  “No. I—” She shook her head. “No.”

  “Most definitely yes.” He covered her lips in a hot press that demanded more. When she gasped, he took advantage, sliding his tongue inside to taste her. She stiffened, but Brock didn’t give up.

  He seized her mouth again, driving deeper, drowning in her heat and taste. She softened, then melted against him, her lips turning pliant, tongue grazing his shyly at first, then with more passion as she clutched at his chest. That sweet flavor of her he’d never forgotten seeped into him, boiling his blood and blinding him to reason. Need clawed at him. He clutched her, palms sliding down the length of her back, then resting on her hips. He bent, notched his hard cock right against all that sweet flesh he couldn’t wait to plunder.

  After five years of believing he would never hold Maddie again, Brock’s self-control shattered. He could not find the sanity to care. He needed this kiss—needed her—beyond reason. And he needed to know she was not indifferent to him.

  He grazed his lips over the soft skin of her throat, panting. “Sweet girl.”

  “Brock…” she mewled. That was all he needed to hear.

  Ruthlessly, Brock plunged deep into her mouth again, stroking, exploring, desperate to get her out of her clothes. Maddie’s moist lips opened wider for his kiss. Her hands upon his chest, once meant as a barricade, now slid about his neck. She grasped handfuls of his hair and moaned again, deep in her throat. Bloody hell, the sound made him ache to carry her to his desk, lift her skirts, work his cock deep into her, and ride her until satisfaction claimed them both.

  He drew in a breath, then rasped against her lips, “I want you—every bit of you—mind, body, and soul, Maddie. I want you now.”

  With a gasp, she stiffened and tore herself out of his arms. Backing away from him, she clapped her palm over her swollen, red-berry mouth and shook her head, her eyes a mixture of accusation and desire.

  “Haven’t you done enough to ruin my life already? I swear that if you’ll let me repay you over time, I won’t fail. But please, I’m begging you, leave me alone.”

  Her words flayed him with bitter anger. He’d ruined her life? “Don’t be stubborn. Marry me. I’ll be good to you, provide financial stability. You’ve seen that I can make you want me, Maddie. God knows I want you.” He reached for her again.

  She shook her head and darted for the door. “No. Never again.”

  #

  The next night, Maddie paced the floor of Colin’s empty, unlet St. John’s Wood cottage, watching her shadow on the wall from the room’s few candles. Would Brock answer her summons? She had to believe that, promised compensation, he would come.

  Now, Maddie prayed she had the fortitude to deliver.

  The clues had been in front of her for days—the cottage in St. John’s Wood, the clothing Brock had given her, the assumptions of the ton. But yesterday’s blistering kiss had snapped the last puzzle piece in place.

  She shoved aside the gust of hot lust that had swept through her at Brock’s kiss. He had simply taken her by surprise yesterday. She was a woman grown, in control, and could elude the sexual web he sought to trap her in. She must. Besides, Colin had called her a cold fish and lost all interest in sharing her bed. Eventually, Brock would, too. Probably faster if she stopped challenging him.

  With her new plan, Brock would sacrifice his ambitions because she refused to be his pawn twice. And her plan was perfect, except…she had no notion how to seduce him.

  The cottage’s front door squeaked open. She saw only the outline of Brock’s body, tall, taut, broad-shouldered—definitely all man. Apprehension and awareness curled in Maddie’s belly.

  Please let this work.

  Behind him, Brock shut the door softly, then his measured steps brought him across the tiled floor, slowly, slowly, until the candlelight illuminated his strong, expressionless features. His dark hair gleamed a deep mahogany.

  “Why did you ask me here? I am through negotiating, Maddie. I’m interested only in payment in full or your hand in marriage.”

  His words were hardly encouraging. Maybe this idea was a mistake, maybe he didn’t want her... Then she saw his gaze touch her lips, linger o
n her breasts, measuring the span of her waist, her hips.

  “I think we have another possibility to consider, Brock.” Maddie purposely let his first name roll off her tongue.

  His hot stare snapped to her face. His green eyes held anger, yes. But they also glowed with want. His body grew taut.

  She sidled closer and placed a shaking hand on his chest—doing her best to ignore his firm, warm flesh beneath her hand and the rapid thump-thump of his heart.

  “What?” He stared pointedly at her hand upon him, jaw clenched.

  Refusing to back down, Maddie swallowed her insecurities and curled her hand around his hard shoulder.

  “I will be your mistress for tonight, Brock. All night. Come morning, we could consider this matter settled.”

  Shock flashed across his face. Then his eyes blazed with desire. His fists clenched and he started toward her—before he quickly doused his reaction with scorn. “Over six thousand pounds for a night’s tumble?”

  Where was his lust, the unbridled acceptance she had imagined?

  Maddie drew in a calming breath. Clearly, Brock would walk away if she did not sweeten her offer. As much as she was loathe to give him more of her time or soul, any part of her she gave this way would be better than legally enslaving herself to him for the rest of her life.

  “A month, then?” she countered.

  He raised a cynical brow. “Even if I found the time and inclination to bed you each of thirty days, that amounts to over two hundred twenty-five pounds per day. I daresay, no one makes that kind of money for that kind of effort. Really, I should need at least a year to get the proper value out of such an arrangement.”

  Clenching her fists, Maddie restrained the urge to slap him. The swine was deliberately baiting her. “Six months, then. I’m no used courtesan who’s let dozens of men bed her. I am worth more.”

  “You are less knowledgeable in the art of pleasing a man.”

  Something Colin had pointed out mercilessly. Maddie didn’t know how to refute Brock.

  He cocked his head and stared. “After six months, what do you ask for your future?”