Tempting a Proper Lady (7 page)

“Will you please stop saying such things?”

“For pity's sake, Annabelle, why don't you listen to me? Why would you wed him knowing he only wants your fortune?”

“The fact that Richard needs my money doesn't bother me. In fact, it means he won't abandon me. Even if he runs through my dowry in a blink, the only way he'll be able to get more money from Pa is if he keeps me happy.”

“And alive?” He stared down into her pretty face. He could see the hurt he had caused her—hell, that Raventhorpe had caused both of them—but he also saw a glimpse of the same sweetness and naïveté that had once made him choose her as the mother of his children. “Tell me this, Annabelle. Who inherits the money if something happens to your parents?”

“Me, of course, though that's a terrible thing to say!”

“Is it?” He leaned down to bring his lips closer to her ear. “And if something were to happen to you after that, Raventhorpe would inherit everything.”

Shock rippled across her face just as a hand landed on his shoulder, forcing them to halt mid-turn. Mrs. Burke, in the arms of a naval officer, dodged around them to avoid a collision as Samuel turned to face Raventhorpe.

“Still sniffing after my bride, Captain?” the earl sneered.

“You were late.” Samuel shrugged. “If you're that worried, you shouldn't keep your lady waiting so long.”

“She knew I was detained.” He tugged Annabelle's hand from Samuel's. “Didn't you, my dear?”

“Richard, please don't cause a scene,” Annabelle whispered, glancing around them.

“I am simply defending you from unwanted attentions.” The earl glared, his social mask slipping to reveal the murderous rage beneath. Samuel braced himself for battle.

Annabelle made a mewl of distress and laid her hand on Raventhorpe's arm. “Richard, please.”

“Nothing to say, Breedlove?”

Annabelle's anxiety kept Samuel's anger in check. A public altercation would not advance his cause with the Baileys. His months of solitude had taught him to control his temper, but Raventhorpe would not know that. He would be expecting Samuel to react as he had in the past.

“She came willingly,” he said. “Just ask your dear friend Lady Canthrope. But unlike you, Raventhorpe, I have no desire to instigate a brawl in the middle of a dance floor.” Samuel sketched a bow. “Thank you for the dance, Annabelle. Think about what I said.” He gave the barest hint of a nod. “Raventhorpe.”

Without another word, he turned away. Barely sparing a glance for Mrs. Burke and her escort, who lingered close enough to have certainly overheard the conversation, he left them all standing there as the rumbles of speculation began.

S
amuel found solace in the garden. He stood on the path, staring up at the night sky. The stars looked smaller here in the city than they had on the island, but focusing on them allowing him to get a firm rein on his temper. This should have been easier. Annabelle should have believed him.

But what had he expected? Women had a different sense of loyalty than men. They always allied themselves with males who were wealthy or powerful, men who would give them things. And when the generosity dried up, the woman would move on to another man. His mother had taught him that lesson.

He had known the nature of women going into his engagement with Annabelle. At the time, she was the most beautiful girl in the county, even though her father was only a poor farmer. Her beauty was the only asset she possessed to attract a decent husband, and he could not fault her for using it. After all, hadn't he selected her for her looks and sweet nature? Her life as a farmer's daughter meant that she understood the rewards of hard work and would make a good
mother for his children. Not to mention there was a strong possibility those children would inherit their mother's handsomeness.

He remembered the day he had asked her to marry him, how she had tearfully accepted. She had gone on about love and happiness, and he allowed her that. Love was how women justified their manipulation of men. For him, marriage was a contract. He wanted a wife and family; she wanted a man who would provide for her. It was an excellent arrangement all around. Logical. Sound business.

But now things were different. Samuel blew out a long breath. He could handle losing Annabelle. He could even understand her wanting to marry another man. After all, it was painfully clear to him that they weren't suited anymore. But not this man, who would as soon slit her throat as bed her. He cared too much for Annabelle and her parents to allow that to happen.

“Captain Breedlove?”

He glanced over at the woman standing on the steps leading down into the garden, silhouetted by the lights of the ballroom behind her. He would recognize that straight spine and lushly curved figure anywhere. “Mrs. Burke, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She descended the remaining steps, then paused. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“Not at all.” He turned to face her. “What happened to your escort?”

“I asked him to fetch me some punch.” She approached him with the caution of a virgin to a dragon.

For some reason her hesitance only heightened his simmering temper. “I thought you would have been comforting Annabelle after what just happened.”

“She is with His Lordship.”

“Raventhorpe?” He gave a bark of laughter. “Hardly a comfort.”

“Even if he is the villain you claim, he will hardly do her harm in front of half of London society.” As Mrs. Burke approached him, the flickering light from the torches along the path emphasized the dark pools of her eyes and the inviting cleft between her breasts. He allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant hum of lust for a moment. The lovely widow might very well possess the most magnificent breasts he had ever seen.

It had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a sight.

“At Annabelle's engagement party, you asked me to listen to you,” said the owner of the distracting bosom. “And I tried, but you left rather abruptly. I even inquired at the inn the next day, but you had already departed.”

“I thought it best to exact a strategic retreat.” An excellent idea for this moment as well. Up close, the lady's skin looked even more delectable.

“It left many questions.” She paused. “The Baileys think the worst.”

His laugh sounded more like a snarl. “And you, Mrs. Burke? What do you think?”

“There was some speculation that you had abandoned Annabelle and only returned when you discovered she was an heiress.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“I do not know what to believe. Your explanation for your absence is something out of a novel. Yet at the same time…”

“At the same time…” he urged when she did not continue.

“I do think you honestly cared for her,” she said. “At least a little.”

“At last! Someone who doesn't think me the villain of the piece.”

“I admit that I have not yet made that determination.”

He frowned. “You just said that you believed me.”

“I
want
to believe you. But truly, Captain, you might simply be a very gifted liar.”

He stiffened. “If you were a man, I would knock you cold for that.”

She gasped. “Captain, really!”

He shrugged. “'Tis the truth. But have no fear, madam.” He couldn't stop himself from taking a long, appreciative look at her form. “I can see clearly enough that you are most definitely not a man.”

In the relative silence of the garden, he heard her breath catch, and she splayed her hand over her bosom. Was her heart pounding at such a simple remark? How long had it been since she had felt a lover's touch?

Did she even seek a lover? An image flashed in his mind of the comely widow in the arms of the buttoned-and-pressed lieutenant. No, he doubted the naval man had the fire necessary for the job.
Mrs. Burke struck him as a passionate woman who needed a man of equal passion to satisfy her. The lieutenant would leave her wanting. She needed a man of strength, someone comfortable in his own skin, unafraid to take her where she needed to go.

Someone like…him.

Once his mind latched on to that notion, it was impossible to let go. The altercation with Raventhorpe had left him edgy, and Annabelle's disbelief had only increased his frustration. Now here was Mrs. Burke, a widow with a body designed to be a man's playground, alone in the garden with him.

Her every word and gesture spoke to him of needs denied. Hunger unsatisfied. He knew without a doubt he could satisfy her. A lesser man might take advantage of the situation.

But he needed her to help him, and he did not consider seduction the best way to convince her. When sex became involved with business, emotions ran high. Too much could go wrong. As tempted as he was, he had to stand strong and keep his eye on the goal. To save Annabelle.

“I thought you were determined to clear your name, Captain,” the widow said, her tone ringing with well-deserved rebuke. “To prove your honor. Flirting with me will gain you no ground to that end. Remember, it is my job to arrange this wedding. I have nothing to gain by helping you ruin it.”

“Except to save Annabelle from marrying that scum.”

“Scum? An unpleasant personality and puffed-up consequence is no reason to think the man a murderer. And I should warn you, sir, I am impervious to the charm of attractive gentlemen, so if you think to beguile me into helping you, it will not happen.”

“Beguile? Do I have that power? Interesting.” He smiled slowly.

Impossible male!

Cilla took slow, even breaths to calm her racing heart. What kind of man disrupted so many lives for the sake of one woman, then flirted with another? And that clever, engaging grin of his invited a woman to forget herself and follow him anywhere. Edward had been nearly as charming. She would not succumb to such blatant manipulation again. Ever.

“But you do bring up an interesting suggestion,” he continued. “You are close to Annabelle. If I can convince you that Raventhorpe is a danger to her, will you help me stop this wedding?”

“If you speak seriously and tell me what is truly happening,” Cilla said. “If you cannot do that, I trust you will not waste my time any further.”

“Down to business, are we?”

“I am a practical woman, Captain. You must have a reason for trying to stop the wedding when the odds are so clearly against you.”

“I told you my reason. Raventhorpe.”

“I can understand that—
if
Lord Raventhorpe did what you claim.”

His jaw tightened. “He did.”

“And Annabelle?”

“Our engagement is at an end.”

“You seem to have accepted that rather well.”

“We are different people than we once were, but that doesn't mean that I want to see her hurt. I will do whatever I can to stop that wedding.”

“I am all admiration at your determination to protect your former fiancée. Which brings us to another question.” She folded her arms. “Explain the rumor I heard today where the mysterious American captain paid for his town house in gold.”

He chuckled. “For a lady, you sure have no problem cutting right to the heart of the matter.”

She shrugged, annoyed he had read her so easily. “Nonetheless, I do not follow anyone down a path blindly. Please answer me.”

“You're all assuming I was after Annabelle's fortune, is that it?”

She gave a stiff nod.

He laughed. “My dear Mrs. Burke, in a rather bizarre twist of fate, I find myself part owner in a pirate's treasure.”

She couldn't help it—she gaped. “A what?”

“A pirate's treasure. 'Twas hidden on that blasted rock where I spent the better part of the past two years. I split it with the man who rescued me from the island.” He leaned forward, crowding close to her in a manner that made her extremely aware of his presence. “I can buy and sell Virgil Bailey several times over. So put your fears to rest. I don't want her
money. I just want to save her from Raventhorpe.”

“I see.” Pirate's treasure? Did she dare believe such a fantastical tale? “Captain, I do not see—”

“Cilla?” Her mother stepped out onto the terrace above them. “Are you out here?”

Cilla clamped her mouth shut, grabbed Samuel's sleeve, and dragged him off the lit path and into the shadows below the terrace.

“Are you certain you saw her come out here?” a man asked.

“Perhaps she is down in the gardens,” Helen said.

“We can check. I will escort you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Cilla closed her eyes. Lieutenant Allerton. Was her mother so desperate to see her married to a man her father would find acceptable that she would lead the poor lieutenant to the altar by the hand? The timing could not be worse. Should the lieutenant discover her lurking alone in the gardens with the notorious American captain…

The gossips would destroy her.

Samuel appeared to understand the situation without her uttering a word. He lowered his head until his mouth nearly touched her ear. “Come with me.”

His breath tickled the flesh of her neck. A swift, powerful surge of delight swept through her, awakening parts of her body she thought long dormant. Praying he had not noticed her involuntary quiver, she nodded in response to his command.

His large hand closed around hers. Willingly she
allowed him to lead her along the edge of the terrace and away from the lit walkway. She could hear her mother and Lieutenant Allerton walking down the stairs, chatting. Suddenly Samuel jerked her away from the terrace and led her through a barely visible opening between two large flowering bushes. The shrubs allowed them to remain concealed from Allerton and her mother, whose conversation echoed back as they strolled the garden path.

As her mother's voice faded into the distance, Cilla looked around. Samuel had led her into some kind of grotto with a stone bench standing between two Grecian columns—clearly meant to be a romantic corner for a rendezvous. Beside the faux ruins stood a quiet fountain with a Greco-Roman maiden pouring water from a jar into a stone pool. Trees and hedges shielded them from the sight of anyone on the pathway or the terrace.

“How did you know this was here?” she whispered, looking around her with wonder.

“I heard the water,” he murmured back.

“Clever of you, Captain.” She turned back to him and found him watching her. In the dimness of the starry night, his eyes looked darker than ever. The intensity she found there brought forth that quick tingle again. She moistened her dry lips.

His gaze zoomed to her mouth, then downward. “Your skin glows like porcelain in the moonlight.”

She glanced down and saw that her sensible dark blue satin evening dress, which had appeared quite proper in the ballroom, now blended into the darkness, emphasizing the bared skin of her modest
décolletage in a way that looked quite erotic. She jerked her gaze back to his. “You are flirting again, Captain. And rather boldly.”

The flash of his grin only made him look more sinful. “Calm yourself, Mrs. Burke. I'm no ravenous beast to devour you on a garden path, but neither am I blind to your charms. 'Twas merely a harmless compliment.”

“I will thank you to keep your conversation to the topic at hand.” Even she hated the primness of her tone. But he just chuckled.

“As you wish. But apparently this venue is rife with interruptions. I'm willing to meet you elsewhere to discuss the matter in private.”

She raised her brows. “Given your remarks, is that a wise idea?”

“Shall we write letters then? Come now. I'm certain we can meet in some sort of privacy without ravishing each other.”

Her face heated, and she was glad of the darkness. “Captain, you are doing nothing to allay my concerns.”

He chuckled. “I can't resist. Your prickly demeanor only makes me want to poke at you even more.”

“Captain!” Did he…Could he mean…?

He burst out laughing. “Oh, you have a wicked mind, don't you?”

“No! I did not…I thought you meant…Oh, botheration!”

He was still chuckling when they heard the voices again.

“I am certain I heard someone laughing.” The
voice of Cilla's mother sounded closer, accompanied by the scuff of footsteps on the garden path beyond the shrubbery.

With a squeak of alarm, Cilla instinctively covered Samuel's mouth with her hand to silence his laughter. The inappropriateness of the action struck her even as the sensuous feel of his surprisingly soft lips against her hand re-ignited the attraction simmering between them all evening. She glanced up at him. Beneath her palm, his mouth curved into a smile, and needs she had long forgotten surged up within her like a steaming geyser.