Seduce Me (15 page)

They might not concern themselves with Esme’s life, but he could sense immediately that should a circumstance arise that would
better the welfare of the Weatherbys, they wouldn’t hesitate to use Esme to achieve that goal. Well, he would be no such circumstance.

“Eldon,” Raymond said with a chuckle, “we would never impose on anyone of your status or wealth a troublesome girl such as
Esme.”

“No, of course not,” Elena agreed.

He took one more look at Esme’s sister. It was hard to believe the passionate and vibrant Esme was related to this simpering
fool.

“I believe I’ve said enough,” he said. “And I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. Good day.” Without allowing them
to respond, Fielding turned and left the Weatherbys’ presence.

He’d thought only of himself when he’d driven here this morning. He tried to remind himself he’d still done the right thing.
There was simply no room in his life for a wife.

What woman wanted to be left at home alone for several months of the year? Or worse, travel with him to sandy, remote locations
full of exotic insects and even stranger foods?

A flash of Esme digging in a tomb popped into his mind. She wore a ridiculous hat and was covered in sand. Then she smiled
at him. It was a most unsettling image.

* * *

Fielding entered Max’s home after being gone the entire day. It remained unclear whether his visit to the Weatherbys had accomplished
anything of value. He still could not completely comprehend them abandoning her to her own ruin. He supposed if nothing else,
perhaps he had a better understanding of Esme.

He knew now that despite the fact that Esme spent more time with her nose in a book than in the reality of the world around
her, she was also a fighter. Life had not always been kind to her, perhaps had rarely been, but she’d proven herself industrious.
She was a survivor.

Somewhere down the hall a clock chimed the hour, reminding Fielding that it was long past time for dinner. He briefly entertained
the idea of going straight up to bed, but decided instead to stop by their makeshift study. On the off chance that Esme was
still awake, he wanted… He didn’t know what he wanted.

Apologize was what he should do, but apologize for what, specifically? For being a complete ass? For having a past full of
sins? He rubbed his hand down the back of his neck. He needed to see her.

He knocked on the door but heard no reply, so he turned to go, noticing as he did the soft glow of candlelight flickering
from beneath the door. Opening the door, he stepped inside. The room was dark, with the exception of the fire in the corner,
which had burned down to a handful of embers, and one candle sputtering on the tabletop.

And there was Esme, asleep on the mahogany wood, her breathing slow and steady.

Books surrounded her, one even serving as her pillow. She did not wake as his steps closed the distance between them. For
a moment he stood over her, watching her sleep. He marveled at the porcelain clarity of her skin, at the plumpness of her lips, which were parted just slightly.

This was a woman of intelligence and beauty. A woman who deserved to be admired, not dismissed as her sister had so clearly
done. He reached down and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him.

“Are you going to ravish me?” she asked against his neck, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Her hot breath streamed against his skin like a feathered caress. His body instantly responded to her, and he inwardly groaned.
After years of unscrupulous behavior, why had he decided now to be a gentleman? Because while he might not know her very well,
he knew that Esme—with her sharp intelligence and her absolute faith in him—deserved better. Better than a quick tumble on
the floor.

“No, I don’t believe I’ll ravish you,” he said. “Tonight,” he added.

She nuzzled against him, her lush breasts pressing into his chest. Damn, she was killing him. “Are you certain? Because I
can assure you I’d be most willing. You wouldn’t even have to seduce me.” She released a throaty moan, which reached deep
inside him and tore at his resolve. “You smell nice.”

“Esme, you are a temptress.”

“I hope I remember you said that in the morning,” she murmured as he carried her upstairs to her room and placed her in her
bed.

She was so tempting, she was distracting him from what he’d planned to do—infiltrate Solomon’s. Yet one kiss from Esme, and
he’d forgotten all about discovering the identities of the men who had been unable to save his father.

Quickly he pulled off her shoes. He didn’t bother with her stockings, as he wasn’t certain he could trust himself to touch
her bare skin. The memory of how smooth and silky it was had haunted him since he’d rescued her. They needed to get those
bracelets off, and fast.

He pulled the covers over her, and she burrowed deep beneath them, curling up on her right side and falling instantly back
to sleep. Then, because he simply couldn’t resist—or didn’t want to—he pressed a kiss to her lips.

Perhaps tomorrow he’d regret not taking advantage of the situation. But toying with Esme’s emotions was something he could
not afford to do. She might be her own woman, as she liked to say, but she was still a lady and still had a reputation at
stake. As much as he’d like to bed her, to taste the full extent of her passion, to teach her the myriad ways of lovemaking,
he couldn’t take the risk.

Some seductress she was.

Esme eyed her reflection suspiciously. She had a vague memory of being carried to bed, but she was fairly certain that, despite
being alone with a man in her bedchamber, her chastity remained intact. It seemed highly unlikely she could have been ravished
yet still fully clothed in the morning.

She gave a sheepish laugh when her maid stepped in. “It appears I fell asleep in my clothes last night.”

Further proof that while this bracelet might be causing
her
to be filled with lustful desires, it did nothing to enhance her appeal to the opposite sex. Annette bobbed her head and
began unbuttoning Esme’s dress.

Fielding had kissed her. Twice. And he’d caressed her. Her cheeks warmed with the memory as did the flesh between her thighs.
And yet he remained unmoved. His behavior could mean one of two things. Either Fielding had exaggerated his warning and he
truly was a gentleman, or she truly was undesirable.

“Annette, do you think I’m pretty?” Esme asked the young maid as she was fastening a fresh dress.

“Yes, ma’am. You are most fetching.” She bobbed her head obediently.

Well, that settled nothing. Annette had obviously been taught to be nothing but agreeable to her employers and their guests.

She smiled at the younger woman and watched as she spun Esme’s hair up into what looked like a complicated web of curls. Ordinarily
Esme wore her hair unfashionably down, but perhaps today she should try something new and allow the girl to fix it in some
alluring style.

It wouldn’t work, she argued with herself. Fielding wouldn’t notice or care how she wore her hair. Or that her gown was the
exact shade of green as her eyes.

Plain and simple, he did not want her.

Funny how that thought made her chest ache with regret. Yet her desire for him was fleeting as well, wasn’t it? It would dissipate
once the cursed band was removed. And last night she’d discovered mention of a diary that explained precisely how to do that.
There was only one problem: She didn’t know where to find the diary.

She only hoped it would be enough to impress Fielding, to show him that she was useful.

“Do you require anything else?” Annette asked.

“No, that will be all. Thank you.”

Esme pinched her cheeks, then went in search of her aunt. Much to her surprise, Thea had already gone down for breakfast.
Something that hardly ever occurred at home.

When Esme entered the dining room she was met with great laughter, from both their host and her aunt. Fielding was missing
from the table. Which had her wondering and worrying if he’d been the man who’d taken her to her room last night as she’d
assumed. How horrifying if instead it had been the marquess who’d done the duty. But there was no way to make such an inquiry.

So she made herself a plate, then sat and waited to see if the marquess passed her a smile that hinted at a shared secret.

“I trust you slept well, Miss Worthington,” the marquess said with a broad smile.

The heat of a blush poured over her. Why couldn’t she remember what had transpired last night? “I did, thank you,” she answered
politely but kept her attention on her breakfast.

“Oh, do finish your story, my lord,” Thea said, her voice laced with delight. “The marquess was telling me about the time
he went looking for a map in the caves of Dover.”

Esme was glad to hear the good humor returned to Thea’s voice. It had never been Esme’s intention to worry the older woman.

“Very well,” Max said. “I was there, standing at the mouth of the cave with the renegades not far behind me, and my lantern
went out.”

“Truly?” Thea asked.

“Indeed,” he said with drama. The marquess was adept at storytelling. Esme supposed it was only one of his methods of charming
the ladies. “There was no time to relight it, and the cave was far too dark for me to enter without light.”

“Whatever did you do?” Esme asked, unable to hide her own curiosity.

Max shrugged. “I waited. I hid myself as much as I could behind a large rock, and I waited. It didn’t take long for the men
to appear.”

“Oh, those nasty fellows.” Thea clapped her hands.

“They walked right past me and into the blackness of the cave,” he said.

Esme looked down and realized, in the excitement of the story, she’d already cleaned her plate.

“Without seeing you? What did you do next?” Thea asked.

“I followed them. They had three lanterns offering far more light than I’d had, and as long as I kept a measure of distance
between us”—he winked—“they didn’t seem to notice.”

“You have a liking for danger, my lord; I can tell that about you,” Thea said, pointing her fork at him. “Did they ever discover
you behind them?”

He took a slow sip of tea. “No, they never did.”

Max leaned back in his seat, and Esme could see why women found him so alluring. He had an easy way about him, so congenial
and fun. But she’d seen on more than one occasion a darkening of his expression. She wondered what it was that lurked beneath
his obvious charm.

“As it turned out,” he continued, “that particular quest was completely futile, though not without a bit of adventure.”

“Oh, goodness,” Thea said. “Quite an adventure, indeed. I believe I shall be off to my room for a while. I’m reading a delightful
book.”

“Enjoy,” Esme said. She waited until her aunt had left the dining room before turning her attention back to Max. “What of
the map, my lord? Did you ever find it?” Esme asked.

“In fact, I did. Would you like to see it?”

“Very much,” she said. Perhaps she’d get the opportunity to inquire about his membership in Solomon’s. She followed him to
his office, only a few doors down and across from the parlor in which they’d sat the day of their arrival. It seemed as if
that had been a lifetime ago.

“Come in,” he said.

He went to stand at the framed map hanging behind his desk. It was unlike any she’d ever seen before. Hand-colored and exceptionally
detailed, it was nothing short of beautiful.

She reached up but stopped herself before she touched the aging parchment. “I’m unfamiliar with this country,” she said.

He chuckled. “It is not a country, but rather the lost continent of Atlantis.”

“Atlantis? Is that the legend you study?” she asked before giving thought to the propriety of the matter. She knew very well
that the men of Solomon’s kept their studies quite private.

“Yes, it is.”

“And this is the map you found?”

“Not in the caves of Dover,” he said, “but later in caves on a different coastline.” His blue eyes sparkled.

She looked around the rest of his office, noting the texts on Plato and Aristotle. On top of his desk was another map, this
one of the world. He’d drawn lines and routes in several of the bodies of water. “Will you tell me more about Solomon’s?”
she ventured. “Although I realize it might be improper to ask.”

“Of course not. Fielding is providing a very important service to our club, and we know you’ve been put in danger by the Raven.
I should say you’ve earned the answers to a few questions.” He motioned to the chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.”
He seated himself behind the desk and with one hand opened a drawer to his left, retrieving a folded letter. He held it out
to her.

She opened it to find he’d shared his invitation letter. The flourishing penmanship and quality of parchment spoke to the
esteem of the group. Then she noted the date. “My lord, this invitation came fourteen years ago. You couldn’t have been more
than—”

“Nineteen,” he provided. “I was one of the youngest members ever inducted. That will happen when you discover a map such as
the one behind me. Up until then, no one had ever seen a map of Atlantis.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Isn’t it?” He looked over his shoulder to glance at the map before he spoke again. “The letter came, then I had a series
of meetings with Solomon’s. I was reluctant, had never actually heard of them until the invitation arrived. They persuaded
me to join.”

“I’ve known about them since I was a girl,” she said. “My father was never a member, never invited, but he did provide research
assistance to members of Solomon’s many years ago. He always said Solomon’s was full of the most gallant men in all of England.”
The tales he’d told her had made her long not only to meet those gentlemen, but to be among them, something she knew was foolish
and futile. They did not allow women in their ranks. No gentlemen’s clubs did.

“I suppose some of them are gallant, but I could tell you stories about several of our members who could stand to learn a
few things when it comes to chivalry.”