Temptress in Training (21 page)

“Hellfire, Eudora encourages you to create things like this?”

“She's very proud of the work I do! But I'm sorry if I've offended you, my lord. Apparently my skills at seduction are hardly up to your standards.”

She was sitting now, holding the coverlet around her. He could just make out the silhouette of her breasts, still perfectly exhibited by the provocative garment. They were firm and round and just the perfect size for…Hell, if her seduction skills were any more up to his “standards” he would probably explode where he stood.

“If you were waiting here to seduce me, then why did you kick me…again?” he asked.

She pulled the coverlet tighter and snuggled it around her body. Her lush body. Her young body. Her alluring body. Her body that he could still see vividly in his mind's eye even though the damned blanket now covered it—mostly.

“You startled me!” she replied. “I didn't expect it to take you so very long to check on your precious carriage. I suppose I fell asleep.”

Even when she behaved as a petulant child he still wanted her. This was not at all a good thing. He knew, of course, she didn't want him. Not really. This seduction ruse was simply a return to her first intent, to keep him here as long as possible to give her father greater chance at escape. Apparently she was willing to go to any end for that goal, even so far as wearing this monstrosity and shagging someone she hated.

Well, then.
How relieved she would be when he told her they would be staying here tonight and she need not have gone to all this trouble.

Not that he didn't appreciate it, though! On the contrary. Should things get a bit chilly later in the night, one thought of Miss Darshaw wriggling her body into—or out of—that astonishing costume, and he'd warm right up. He'd not sleep much, though, and he had to admit he was dead tired after his travels and restless night watching D'Archaud.

But what was he to do then? He didn't dare leave her alone—she'd take the locket and disappear, probably going off to get herself killed. He had to stay right here, where he could keep an eye on her. He must remember, though, that an eye was all he could keep on her, despite those alluring peaks teasing him beneath that thin cover. By hell, he supposed he'd just have to find a way to make himself comfortable in a chair and leave Miss Darshaw alone in the bed.

That, he knew, was the only way he'd ever manage to…well, leave her alone.

“I will sleep here and you will remain in the bed,” he announced, feeling rather noble as he propped the one spindly chair they had against the door just in case she might have any notion of leaving.

“You can't sleep in a chair,” she said.

“You seemed to survive it last night,” he replied.

“That was a much larger chair. And it was horrible.”

“You just worry about yourself. Go to sleep, Miss Darshaw.”

“So you can leave?”

“No, I'm not leaving.”

“Your darling carriage is still not repaired?”

“It is, and it has been returned. Finally.”

“So of course you are eager to leave.”

No, right now he was eager for something else. He only
wished
he could leave.

“It's too dangerous. We will stay here and leave tomorrow,” he said.

“We?”

“I told you I will make some sort of arrangement for you. Do you wish to remain here? I will see if the innkeeper has a respectable position for you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. He adjusted himself in the chair, leaned back against the door, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes. It did nothing to remove that tantalizing image of her from his mind.

“And what will you do?”

“I will go to find your father,” he said. “With or without that locket.”

“Without, then.”

“You've hidden it?”

“I have.”

“Good. I was afraid someone came in here, abused you, and stole it.”

She was silent a moment. He refused to look at her to judge her thoughts.

“You thought that?” she asked at last.

He nodded. “I'm glad I was mistaken.”

Another silence. This stretched on so long he began to think perhaps she'd taken his advice and dropped off to sleep. Finally she spoke again.

“Do you really think the locket will help you find Papa?”

“I will find him eventually.”

“But it would be easier with the locket.”

“Yes. If it indeed contains that list of conspirators, it's only logical to expect that he will go to one of them now. It's why he left the locket with you, I'm quite certain. He hoped you would use it to follow him.”

“So naturally you hope
you
can use it to follow him.”

“I do. Those men must be brought to justice.”

“I could simply give it to you, you know.”

“I know you could. And I could just as easily force you to tell me where you hid it, then just take it for myself.”

“But you're a gentleman.”

“No, I'm tired. Now go to sleep, Miss Darshaw.”

There was another pause before she spoke again.

“I will give it to you if you take me with you to find my father.”

“No. You'd only get in the way. On purpose.”

“If you're only going to find him eventually, then I'd rather it be sooner and with me present. Take me with you and I'll provide the locket.”

“No. Go to sleep now.”

“And will you be going to sleep now?”

“Eventually.”

“Sleeping in a chair isn't very comfortable, is it?”

“It will do.”

“It will not. You'll be miserable. Promise to take me with you and I'll give you the locket
and
I'll invite you to share this nice comfortable bed.”

Hell, it had been all he could do not to take her up on her offer the first time she made it. Now he was nearly lost. But her offer came with a price. Could he possibly consider it, consider taking her with him?
No, of course not.
For her own sake he couldn't.

Still, she was right about it being dashed uncomfortable in this damn chair. He certainly would not mind climbing into that rented bed, and the fact that she was in it only made the notion that much harder to ignore. Did he dare?

All she asked was that he promise to take her. Promises were easy to make, and passing the night in bed with the luscious—and practically naked—Miss Darshaw would be just as easy. A man with only half a brain would have no trouble taking her offer and even less trouble breaking his promise in the morning.

He could only hope that after one night in Miss Darshaw's bed he'd still have half a brain left.

 

S
HE KNEW WHAT SHE WAS DOING.
A
T LEAST, SHE HOPED
she did. Lord Lindley was not someone to be trifled with. It had taken quite a Herculean effort on her part, but she was almost convinced she had not failed. He was going to take her offer and make use of her tonight.

He wanted her—she hoped to heaven she had read that right in his eyes. Perhaps it was the pink stays. Perhaps it was that he finally decided he'd get no better offer elsewhere tonight. Perhaps he simply felt some measure of pity for her.

She hoped that last was not the case. How mortifying that would be to have the man realize how much she truly did want him. She was appalled to even admit it to herself.

But it was true; she wanted him. She was anxious about the whole thing, of course, but she wanted him. She had never felt actual desire for anyone before, and she found this new sensation exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Lindley would initiate her into the ways of the world, and she wanted that so very badly.

She just hoped Madame was right and that Lindley would make this first encounter endurable. She would hate to begin her career as a whore with a man who turned out to be a brute. It was foolishness, of course, to hope for a night that would give her fond memories she could smile at long after daylight dawned and harsh reality took over. But that's what she wanted with Lindley. It seemed somehow quite wrong to pray for such a thing, but she did anyway.

Madame had indicated Sophie could count on the man giving in to sleep after a certain measure of exertion. She was not naive enough to pretend she did not comprehend what that meant; she would have to be a very active participant if she were to ensure that this level of exertion was attained. And she doubted Lindley would be content to get there by simply chasing her around the room. Heavens, but she had no idea what it would truly take to satisfy Lord Lindley.

Well, she had a vague notion of what it entailed, of course. But beyond the basic understanding of parts involved, however, her education was still a bit incomplete. She hoped that would not prove a fatal hindrance to her plan. Just as she was hoping for a satisfactory reaction to tonight's efforts, she couldn't help but wish he might end up with fond memories of her, as well.

The front two chair legs thumped down onto the floor, and her eyes shot up to meet his. Lindley was staring at her. Oh heavens, he was like a wild animal that had been hunting all its life. She was a pet rabbit left alone in the woods. She shuddered.

“Careful, Miss Darshaw, or I'm likely to assume your words constitute a proposition.”

His eyes were dark with desire. She shuddered again and wished she could have blamed it on fear or disinclination. It was neither. It was eager, raw anticipation.

“Of course it was a proposition, my lord,” she said, after just enough pause to steady herself. “I'm inviting you to join me. In bed.”

It sounded preposterously bold, yet he retained his place in his chair. Was he refusing her?
Again?

His voice was painfully calm when he spoke. “I have no desire whatsoever to take you up on that offer, Miss Darshaw.”

Oh, but this was tragic! He did not want her after all. She was mortified. The man would rather sleep in a chair than entertain himself with her. Oh, she could just wither up and die right now.

But then a smoldering smile touched his lips and he continued.

“Unless, of course, you understand that I've no intention of sharing your bed and behaving in a gentlemanly fashion. If you let me anywhere near you tonight, Miss Darshaw, I promise you sleep will be the very last thing either of us care about.”

Oh, thank heavens.
He did want her! Perhaps she could continue living, after all.

“I've never yet seen you behave in a gentlemanly fashion, my lord,” she said, casually adjusting the covers around her although she knew her hands trembled. “Why on earth should you think I'd expect that now?”

He was out of his chair and looming over her in a heartbeat. Goodness, what had she done? His very eyes were devouring her, making her weak, and he'd not so much as laid a finger on her. What in heaven's name would happen when he did?

She could hardly wait to find out.

It would seem she did not have to. Long before she was ready for it, Lindley swooped down on her. His whole being overpowered her, overwhelmed her in sensation. She could feel the strength of his will, taste the salty sweetness of his lips, quiver under the touch of his hands, and sense the surge of desire in her own soul she'd tried for so long to deny.

She wanted this man to do whatever he would with her tonight. Papa was just an excuse—his salvation really had nothing to do with what she'd offered Lindley. She had no choice but to admit that to herself now.

No choice, she realized, because her body was reacting in force to everything Lindley was doing. His hands slid over her skin; her hands raked desperately over his. His mouth covered hers and compelled her to moan with the urgency and ecstasy that just this much union produced within her. Her lips sought to consume a bit of him for herself. He pressed her into the soft bedding, and she clung to him, pulling him closer and hardly noticing that the room began to spin as her body begged for the breath she'd forgotten to take.

He pushed the covers back from her and his rough palm stroked the nearly naked flesh at her thigh. Oh heavens, how had she gone so many years without feeling such things? She arched herself into him, nipping at his lips, his chin, his neck. If she could have inhaled the man she supposed she would have, but her body was telling her there were far more efficient ways of bringing him quite fully inside her being.

She reached for the fastenings at his trousers. Thank heavens instinct was so strong on these matters. Perhaps moments like this would be more awkward for a properly raised miss, but she'd spent the last several years in Madame's brothel. She may not have been privy to the details of human congress, but her mind had certainly understood the basics long enough for her to have subconsciously formulated her plan of attack.

And indeed, she did have a plan for Lindley. She planned to get him naked. Oddly, though, he didn't seem quite as enthusiastic about her plan as she felt.

“What is it, my lord?” she asked when he pushed slightly away from her.

He was looming over her, just inches separating them. They felt like miles.

“You intend to put some effort into this, I see,” he said.

“You would rather have me lie back and contemplate the laundry?”

She wasn't at all certain what he was about, but he smiled. “I would rather have you enjoy yourself, Miss Darshaw.”

“As I would like for you to enjoy yourself, my lord.”

“Then we'll need to dispense with all this ‘my-lording' and ‘Miss-Darshawing.' I should think at least we should consider ourselves on a first-name basis by now.”

She wasn't at all pleased with this unwelcome shift from indescribable bliss to banal conversation. What the devil was the man blithering on about? And how on earth could he expect her to call him by his first name?

“You seem unconvinced, Miss Darshaw,” he said, then dipped his head to kiss her softly on the throat.