A Taste of Seduction (15 page)

“You cannot share it with me? After everything we have been through, you still do not trust me? How is it that you are prepared to throw our chance away but you cannot explain why?” Her eyes began to fill with tears.

His heart tore. “I absolutely trust you, but it is not my secret to tell. Besides, telling you won't make our situation any easier. You won't be able to fix the problem. I have Arend working on a solution, but it may not come in time.”

The happiness shining in her eyes disappeared like the flame of a blown-out candle.

“I'm not saying this to hurt you,” he went on. “When I found out what they did to you, that you hadn't left me of your own free will, I grabbed with everything I am at the hope that perhaps we could have the life together we've always wanted.”

She pulled her hand from his. “Don't do this. Don't tell me what we could have, then take it away from me. That is not fair. Don't be cruel.”

He tried to take her into his arms, but she pushed him away.

He sat back, his gaze fixed on her. “I just wanted to explain that I am not doing this lightly. You will always own my heart. But honor forces me to—”

“Honor. Sometimes I despise honor.” Her breasts were rising and falling with emotion. “Sorry, that was my disappointment speaking. I love that you are a man of honor.”

“It literally is a matter of life and death. Not mine,” he added upon seeing the panic on her face.

“Then whose? Augustus's?”

He did not speak, but she must have seen something in his expression, because she went on, “It's your brother again. That is not fair. You already face a threat from Victoria.”

Victoria.
She said the name as if she was certain. His body stilled. “You found proof?”

She nodded. “Yes. I have the journal with me. I didn't deem it safe to leave it behind. Marisa has copied the page to share it with the others.” She looked out over the vines. “I suppose that now, given the journal and your secret, you want to head back to London.”

“That depends on you.” Her eyes met his, and he was pleased to see a spark there. “I have no right to ask this of you, but I'm praying you'll agree.” She moved closer, almost as if she was willing him to say the words. “Will you share my home, my life, my bed for the next three days, even if I cannot make any promises? Needless to say, I hope we can have our happily-ever-after, but if we can't, I'm selfish enough to want this time with you.”

Her mouth had dropped open with surprise, and he saw a flash of emotion cross her face. “You ask a lot of me. For me to have what I have longed for and waited for, and then to have to give it up…I'm not sure my heart would stand losing you a second time. I need to think. Can I let you know at dinner?”

He tried to hide his disappointment. “Of course.”

They sat staring at each other, the tension between them palpable. The last time they'd sat together under this tree had been to plan their elopement. Afterward he'd made love to her all afternoon, and the sweet memories had him wanting to wail at the injustice of his situation. However, his brother's life and his family's standing were at stake, and he would not have those on his conscience just so that he could obtain his own happiness.

He rose and gave her his hand. “Let us return to the house. Dinner is being served early, as Cook thought you might be tired after your long journey. Is your room satisfactory?”

She took his hand and stood. But then she slipped her hand out of his and turned toward the house, sorrow evident in her stance. “I don't know. I haven't seen it yet. I came straight outside to find you.”

Her words stabbed at his heart. He wanted to be with her. Wanted to learn about the woman she'd become. It was a credit to her resilience that she had not become a bitter shell of a human being. He wondered what had fortified her all those years, while she was being held captive by a man she loathed. He'd have likely gone mad.

If she stayed, he would have the opportunity to explore, savor, possess, and finally connect with her, more deeply than he'd connected with her in the past. Back then he'd not really understood how deep love could go. Real love consumed the soul.

She'd endured more than most women, yet she had retained the essence of who she was. That took strength. She'd been brave enough to confront him about why he had not come for her. And it had taken courage to face the answer.

Now he prayed she had the courage and fortitude to stay. To at least give them both a moment in time that truly belonged to only them.

To say Evangeline was disappointed was a gross understatement. She seethed. This was so unfair. She'd really thought this was going to be their time. That for once no one and nothing would stand in the way of her and Hadley's happiness.

Hands screwed into fists, she sat looking out the window of the drawing room. The moon mocked her; it was full, and the moonbeams were too bright for a night that should be dark and brooding, to match her mood.

Hadley had left it up to her to make the decision to stay or to go.

Her choice.

At least Hadley had been honest with her. He had to marry Claire. A debt of honor…a matter of life and death. What the hell did that mean? Bloody Augustus. Hadley had always been his brother's keeper. If it wasn't about money, then what on earth could it be? Worse still, why could he not confide in her? She bit her lip, agitation washing over her in waves.

Her head swam with noise.
Stay. No, go before your heart is , to pieces.
For once she did not know her path.

They could be lovers for the next few days, and then…and then they would be what? Friends? Could she move on with her life and watch him marry Claire after sharing his home, his bed? It would become Claire's home, and she would be the one sharing Hadley's bed. Her heart felt like it was being attacked by a dagger, each slash cutting deeper.

It would not only be she who suffered because of Hadley's honor. Soon everyone would notice how much Sealey looked like Hadley, and she refused to make her son the center of gossip if Hadley would not be available to support him. She would have to return to Scotland.

She thought about Sebastian's words:
You tell him before he marries Claire or I will.
But if Hadley's marriage to Claire was a matter of life and death, then telling Hadley about Sealey would rip him apart. What good would come of it? In the eyes of the law, Sealey was Viscount Stuart.

The pain Hadley carried—visible in his eyes, around his mouth, and in the tension in his body—indicated that this was not something he was doing lightly. And the pain she had seen in that painting told her that Hadley had loved her deeply. If Hadley had to marry Claire, he was doing so because he really thought there was no other course to follow.

No, she decided, she would not add to his burden by telling him about Sealey now. She'd tell him after he married Claire.

A tear slid down her face. All her dreams were in ruins, and she felt powerless to do anything about it. She'd been powerless for five years, held captive by a man who didn't love her. Dougal hadn't seen her as a person; he simply wanted children from her. Now she'd found a man who loved her, but he wasn't free. Their roles were suddenly reversed. He was trapped and she was free.

Yet perhaps, she thought suddenly, this time she could save him. Perhaps she could find a way….

So what was she to do regarding his offer to stay at Lathero for the next three days?

She already knew. She'd known the moment Hadley had offered her the choice. She would take whatever Hadley had to offer. Three days of pleasure. Three days of pretending they had forever. During their time together, she'd pray that some divine answer to their situation would reveal itself.

She'd lost Hadley once before, and she'd be damned if she'd lose him again.

Hadley stood in the doorway to his drawing room watching her. Her face was controlled, giving no clue to her decision. He'd hated hurting her earlier, but he wouldn't take her to his bed on a lie. His promise to Augustus meant he couldn't share the reason he might have to marry Claire, and he would not pretend that he could guarantee a happy ending for them after their time here. Yet Lathero had always been the place where their love was freely given and shared.

Would she remember that fact?

After several moments he walked slowly toward her, wondering what he would do if she said she would not stay. Could he bring himself to let her go?

She looked at him, and the tears in her eyes made his heart stop. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and say he was so sorry for letting her down again. For not being able to give her what she truly wanted—him. An irritating, irrational sense of failure over not being able to put her first ate at his insides until he wanted to scream.

He stopped by the chair where she sat with hands clenched.

Raising her head, she looked at him and calmly said, “I want to stay with you for as long as I am able.”

He looked into eyes that were the lightest of blue, and he almost wept with relief. She had chosen him, and he was not oblivious to the cost of her choice. She might never be his wife, but she was willing to risk her heart by being his lover.

She'd chosen him.

Finally he understood. She did love him. Deeply.

He took her hand, uncurled the tightened fingers, and placed a kiss on her palm. “Are you sure? I don't want you regretting any moment we spend here.”

Her answer was a smile that could light up the world. “I may be uncertain about many things, but not this.” With her expression one of pure joy, she lifted her free hand, cupped the nape of his neck, drawing him down, and kissed him.

Desire roared through him, and he pulled her to her feet and took over the kiss.

Thankful she'd accepted his offer of days of pleasure, and with a sense of urgency, he knew this was his opportunity to imprint everything about her on his mind, body, and soul, so that if he had to, he could live the rest of his life with only the memory of her. How she filled his senses—her taste, her scent, her softness, and her beauty.

He kissed her again, and it was as if the past five years had suddenly dropped away. He found it so easy to feed her demand and satisfy his hunger, his need, his desire for her. Here she would be his, only his, and he wanted to lock her away and never let her leave. He pushed the agony of parting from his mind; he would pay a terrible price for these few days, but he didn't care. This moment was worth a lifetime of knowing what he had lost five years ago and how he'd had to give her up a second time.

Instead, he decided to focus on the pleasure, on the woman whose softness was in his arms. Her lips were a delight, luscious, pliant, and welcoming. He took ages to savor them, while exploring the delectable curves under his questing hands.

His tongue stroked hers, remembering just how she liked it, and he was rewarded with one of her sensual moans.

God, he was all she remembered. Only with him had she ever felt this whirlpool of desire. With him she was free to indulge all her senses and to find joy in being with a man—this man.

Oh, how she'd missed his touch, his taste, his smell…

Never with Dougal had she ever experienced that telltale surge in want, the tug on her senses and on her heart until she gave everything of herself.

Evangeline became lost in his kiss, and she never wanted to be found. His lips moved over hers, and she remembered how glorious his loving was. All that she had missed during the past five years almost overwhelmed her. On a suppressed shudder of anticipation, she parted her lips. A shiver in her soul exploded when his tongue stroked hers.

She couldn't miss his persuasive command. There was no other word for the way he owned the kiss; it was a claiming.

And she reveled in it. He was all sensual heat, masculine strength, and male hardness, rigid and demanding against her stomach. She loved it when he angled his head over hers, snaring her senses and drawing them into a world where they were all that existed, into a world where heat and desire speed toward a hurricane of primitive wanting, coupled with a need that seemed the size of the moon.

The heated mating of their mouths soon wasn't enough. The mingling of breaths, the evocative, provocative, tangling of their tongues saw them racing toward combustion.

She wanted to slow down and savor every moment, but when his arm slid about her waist, drawing her closer, a flash of desire hit where her curves met his muscled heat, and she forget the need to go slow.

The blatant strength of him surrounded her. She knew he would protect her, whatever was to come, and his touch reassured her, gave her comfort after the years of living in hell, promised that he would cherish this time together. To cherish her.

Her hand stroked down his chest and she could feel the steel of him, feel his heart galloping, feel the increasing tension that screamed of his rising desire for her.

He swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs to his room. As he laid her on his bed, he whispered, “I've been waiting what seems a lifetime to have you in my bed.” He lay down beside her so that they were facing each other, the rampant desire still there but that by the fact they had all night. No one would interrupt them here.

They had never made love in his room, only under the tree, preferring to wait to make love in his bed until they were wed and she was his wife. Now she might never be his wife.

Her smile faded, and the look on his face changed as he saw the emotion pass over her face. He must be remembering too. “I let insane jealousy stop me from seeing the truth. I'm so sorry I didn't come for you back then. If I had, our lives would be very different now. I would have happily lived in scandalous sin with you until Dougal died.”

“You had no reason not to trust the words on the page, or to think that Stowe would betray us.”