Instant Temptation (34 page)
His first thought was that he was unarmed.
His second was that it was a trap.
But when the same genial voice said, “Don’t worry, no one’s at home but me. Do come in and shut the door,” his pulse rate lessened and he scanned the candlelit interior for the source of the invitation.
“Miss Belvoir, I presume,” he murmured, taking note of a young woman with hair more gold than red standing across the room near the foot of the bed. She was quite beautiful. How nice. And if no one was home, nicer still. Shutting the door behind him, he offered her a graceful bow.
“A pleasant, good evening, Albion. Gossip preceded you.” He was breathtakingly handsome at close range. Now to convince him to take her away. “I have a proposition for you.”
He smiled. “A coincidence. I have one for you.” This was going to be easier than he thought. Then he saw her luggage. “You first,” he said guardedly.
“I understand you have twenty thousand to lose.”
“Or not.”
“Such arrogance, Albion. You forget the decision is mine.
“Not entirely,” he replied softly.
“Because you’ve done this before.”
“Not this. “But something enough like it to know.”
“I see,” she murmured. “But then I’m not inclined to be instantly infatuated with your handsome self or your prodigal repute. I have more important matters on my mind.”
“More than twenty thousand?” he asked with a small smile.
“I like to think so.”
He recognized the seriousness of her tone. “Then we must come to some agreement. What do you want?”
“To strike a bargain.”
“Consider me agreeable to most anything,” he smoothly replied.
“My luggage caused you certain apprehension, I noticed,” she said, amusement in her gaze. “Let me al ay your fears. I have no plans to elope with you. Did you think I did?”
“The thought crossed my mind.” He wasn’t entirely sure yet that some trap wasn’t about to be sprung. She was the picture of innocence in white muslin—all the rage thanks to Marie Antoinette’s penchant for the faux rustic life.
“I understand that women stand in line for your amorous skil s, but rest assured—you’re not my type. Licentiousness is your raison d’être, I hear: a very superficial existence, I should think.”
His brows rose. He’d wondered if she’d heard about Sal y’s when she mentioned women standing in line. She also had the distinction of being the first woman to find him lacking. “You mistake my raison d’être. Perhaps if you knew me better you’d change your mind,” He suggested pleasantly.
“I very much doubt it,” she replied with equal amiability. “You’re quite beautiful, I’ll give you that, and I understand you’re unrivaled in the boudoir. But my interests, unlike yours, aren’t focused on sex. What I do need from you, however, is an escort to my aunt’s house in Edinburgh.”
“And for that my twenty thousand is won?” His voice was velvet soft.
“Such tact, my lord.”
“I can be blunt if you prefer.”
“Please do. I’ve heard so much about your ready charm. I’m wondering how you’re going to ask.”
“I hadn’t planned on asking.”
“Because you never have to.”
He smiled. “To date at least.”
“So I may be the exception.”
“If you didn’t need an escort to Edinburgh,” he observed mildly. “Your move.”
“You see this as a game?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“And I’m the trophy or reward or how do young bucks describe a sportive venture like this?”
“How do young ladies describe the snaring of a husband?”
She laughed. “Touché. I have no need of a husband, though. Does that calm your fears?”
“I have none in that regard. Nothing could induce me to marry.”
“Then we are in complete agreement. Now tell me, how precisely does a libertine persuade a young lady to succumb to his blandishments?”
“Not like this,” he said dryly. “Come with me and I’l show you.”
“We strike our bargain first. Like you, I have much at stake.”
“Then, Miss Belvoir,” he said with well-bred grace, “if you would be willing to relinquish your virginity tonight, I’d be delighted to escort you to Edinburgh.”
“In the morning. Or later tonight if we can deal with this denouement expeditiously.”
“At week’s end,” he countered. “After the Spring Meet in Newmarket.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not acceptable.”
He didn’t answer for so long she thought he might be wil ing to lose twenty thousand. He was rich enough.
“We can talk about it at my place.”
“No.”
Another protracted silence ensued; only the crackle of the fire on the hearth was audible.
“Would you be willing to accompany me to Newmarket?” he finally said. “I can assure you anonymity at my race box. Once the Spring Meet is over, I’l take you to Edinburgh.” He blew out a small breath. “I’ve a fortune wagered on my horses. I don’t suppose you’d understand.”
This time she was the one who didn’t respond immediately, and when she did, her voice held a hint of melancholy. “I do understand. My mother owned the Langley stud.”
“That was your mother’s? By God—the Langley stud was legendary. Tattersal s was mobbed when it was sold. You do know how I feel about my racers, then.” He grinned. “They’re all going to win at Newmarket. I’ll give you a share if you like—to help set you up in Edinburgh.”
Her expression brightened, and her voice took on a teasing intonation. “Are you trying to buy my acquiescence?”
“Why not? You only need give me a few days of your time. Come with me. You’l enjoy the races.”
“I mustn’t be seen.”
Ah—capitulation. “Then we’ll see that you aren’t. Good Lord—the Langley stud. I’m bloody impressed. Let me get your luggage.”
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