To Seduce an Earl (8 page)

He paused in the middle of the room, watching her. “Well, what is it?”

She took in a deep, trembling breath. “I need you, Alex.”

He grinned, a grin that sent those dimples to his cheeks. Her heart stuttered, before bursting into a wild gallop. He was handsome. Merely handsome. Anyone would think so. Yet, she’d seen men just as handsome before. Men who had flirted with her when her stepfather had been alive and they’d had money, so why did she react so to this man?

“I’ve heard that too often, Grace, to be shocked or pleased.”

Her given name sounded odd and forbidden upon his lips. The lips of a stranger, really. Then again, how much of a stranger was he when she’d seen him naked? She, and, no doubt hundreds of other women.

He strolled across the carpet, his long and muscled legs tensing under tan trousers. “I’ll need more detail.”

He poured a glass of sherry and started toward her.

“I hate sherry,” she blurted out.

He paused, looking at a loss for words, and that made her amused when she should have been nervous. “Oh. Well, then. What’s your choice?”

She lifted the netting of her bonnet. “Wine. Red.”

He turned, making his way back to the sideboard. “Anything else?” His long fingers wrapped around a wine bottle. Like one addicted to opium, she was addicted to him. Every tiny movement he made burst into focus, colors vivid, scents strong. She was completely and utterly aware of him.

She waved her hand dismissively. “No. Thank you.”

Taking in a deep breath she paced to the windows. The sun was making its descent. In the country they’d be settling to bed. In the city they’d be getting ready for a ball. Here, they were getting ready for…so much more. Heat spread uncomfortably through her body, taunting her already frayed nerves. Lawd, she couldn’t tell him what she wanted. She couldn’t actually say the words.

She felt him move closer, pausing behind her so close she could feel his heat. Instead of feeling trapped, she had the odd urge to sink back into him. She spun around. Her harsh breath fanned across his neck. She couldn’t tell him what she wanted, not while he was standing so close and looking down at her with those brilliant blue eyes, eyes that seemed to see into her very soul.

Biding time, she took the glass. Their fingers brushed and fire shot up her arm. Startled, her gaze jumped to his. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Had he felt it? That heat, that intensity? Or perhaps he had some secret hold over women, knew what to do, say, how to look at them so they felt wanted. She stepped back, needing distance, and turned toward the windows once more.

Before she lost her nerve, she blurted out, “I need an earl.”

There was a short pause. “Sorry, can’t help you there.”

She turned to face him and with one quick swig, downed her wine. Sweet, strong, bold, it gave her the courage she needed. “No, I…I need to marry one. For…money.”

He quirked a brow. “Money?”

“No! I mean…” Gads, she was muddling this. “I love him.”

“And you thought to come here?” He looked partly amused, partly incredulous.

She pressed her hand to her churning stomach and focused on the silver warming pan hanging next to the fireplace. She should have known better than to drink wine with an upset belly. It would be just the thing if she got sick all over him. He certainly wouldn’t help her then.

“No, you don’t understand. The man I wish to marry likes his women…experienced. If I want to attract his attention, I need to learn how.”

He smirked as if amused with the upper crusts odd sensibilities. “Really?”

She nodded. “I want you to teach me how to seduce an earl.”

********

The woman was insane. Bloody insane.

So why didn’t he kindly escort her from his room?

Alex moved to the sideboard once more and poured himself a whiskey. Mostly to give himself time to think. She was turning him into a full blown lush. Holy Hell. One moment she was slapping him, the next she wanted him to teach her how to seduce. He downed the liquid, grimacing as it burned his throat.

What to do? If he turned down her offer, Lady Lavender would undoubtedly find out and hang him for losing business. Besides, he had a feeling Grace would merely find the next available man and that, for some odd reason, annoyed him. He poured another glass, ignoring the way his fingers trembled. Exhaustion. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep. That was all.
 

He cleared his throat and turned toward her, the full glass still in hand. He had a feeling he’d need the fortitude in the coming moments. “What, exactly, do you want me to teach you?”

She looked confused. Her lips parted, then pressed tightly together. She shook her head, then folded her arms over her chest. That lovely pink tongue darted out to lick her top lip. “I…I…”

She hadn’t a fucking clue. He rolled his eyes heavenward and downed the drink. The liquid burned a welcome path to his gut. His women were usually much more accommodating and much less confused.

“Kissing.”

He coughed lightly, choking on the whiskey that remained on his tongue. “Kissing?”

She nodded so eagerly, her straw bonnet tipped to the side, sitting at a haughty angle atop her head.

He set his cup deliberately on the table, staring at the top for one long moment, attempting to gleam answers in the polished surface.

“Kissing.” Anticipation hummed through his body. That long forgotten sense of lust, of wondering what would come next, whispered through his mind. His life had fallen into a routine. A map planned out from where his lips would go to what murmured words of seduction he’d whisper. There were no surprises. But she surprised him.

Grace shifted closer, her sensible skirts swooshing over sensible black boots. “And…and touching.”

His mind jumped to those skirts, those plain, green skirts that reminded him of early spring. He could almost hear the sound of rustling as he bunched the material up her smooth legs. And just the thought sent heat spiraling through his body. “Touching.”

Dear God, he’d had only a hint of her lush form when he’d held her close. Full, soft breasts, narrow waist…what else lay beneath those thick skirts?

“But no…no actual…”

He jerked his gaze to her face, interested in what she had to say when few things interested him lately.
 

She waved her hands about, like two nervous birds aflight. “No intimacy.”

He went cold. All the tease with no satisfaction. It figured. The one woman, who for some ungodly reason he wanted, didn’t want him. Was it merely the chase? He slid a glance up and down her body. She was pretty, but it was a wholesome pretty…an innocence that called to him. There was something about her…layers upon layers of mystery…

She nodded, her face completely serious. “I need to know how to please a man. How to seduce a man. A…lord.”

“I see.” How to please a
man
.

A
man
. As if he wasn’t one. As if he was nothing. And to most he probably was nothing. A vessel to be used. He tried to ignore those familiar feelings of worthlessness that swirled low in his gut, feelings he’d learned long ago to repress. He’d been important once. Now, he was nothing.
 
 

“Kissing and touching,” she added, those wide innocent eyes belying the ridiculousness of her request.

Did she understand what she asked of him? Did she realize the repercussions of her actions? Annoyed for some reason, he started intently toward her. “Kissing…touching.”

He paused only a breath away, close, intimidating. Her shoulders lifted, as if she intended to shrink back, but then straightened, thinking better of it. Part of him wished she would leave, even if he had to deal with Lady Lavender’s outrage. Another part of him…a small part he was trying to ignore… begged him to pull her close, to teach her whatever she wanted to know as long as she stayed…as long as she made him forget his life for one brief moment.
 

She trembled, but her gaze remained locked to his. Brave girl. She had something to do and no one would stand in her way. Reluctantly, he admired her for that. “It’s not easy, you know.” He reached out, boldly cupping the side of her face, the skin warm and smooth against his palm. She flinched. He sighed.

Dear God, he had a lot of work to do. “It will cost you.”

She looked down, an enchanting flush flooding her high cheekbones. “Of course. I’ve already paid for this evening.”

He frowned as guilt worked bitterly in his gut. Why, for the first time in years, did it bother him to speak of money and sex in the same breath? It was a business. She was willing to pay. He could do no less than charge her; hell, he was expected to charge her.

But he didn’t want her to pay. He wanted…he wanted to be able to touch her, touch
someone
, just once, of his own free will.

“Touching first then?” she whispered, raising her hopeful gaze. Her breath was a warm caress against the inside of his wrist, a promise of what was to come.

“Yes,” he said just as softly. “Touching.”

They merely stared at each other for one long moment. And in her hazel eyes he tried to understand the truth. Why did he want her so? Why did his entire body ache with the need to kiss her? Make love to her? Perhaps because she had red hair. Or perhaps because she smelled of fresh air, warmth and innocence. Or perhaps because she made him
feel
.
 

Slowly, he trailed his fingers down her face, following the gentle slope of her jaw to the delicate curve of her neck. He played with the satiny green ribbons that tied her bonnet in place before pulling the bow free. He lifted the straw hat and settled it on the side table. In the light from the setting sun the red in her hair caught fire. He hesitated only a moment, then allowed his fingers to move over those silky strands, just barely touching her halo of hair.
 

“A simple touch can light the desire within until it’s almost unbearable.”

“Surely not,” she said.

He smiled at her naïveté, at the vulnerability that tainted her words.

“Surely. For instance…” He took her hand in his and pulled the white glove from her fingertips, one by one. The glove dropped to the tabletop, leaving her hand bare. Pale, delicate. Fine lines crossed her palm, lines that could tell the future, according to some. How he wanted to know what those lines meant.

“My hand pressed to yours is intimate, perhaps.” He watched her through his lashes, judging her reaction.

She didn’t move. Barely looked as if she breathed.

He slipped his fingers through hers. She stared as if she’d never held hands with someone. Perhaps she hadn’t. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all. It was an intimate gesture between couples. A gesture done out of love and compassion. Something he hadn’t experienced and probably never would.

He cleared his throat. “But for a man of experience hand holding is something for milkmaids.”

“I see.”

But of course she didn’t see. The woman was as innocent as they came. And by the tremble of her body, she was bloody nervous. Where had his charm gone? Usually, by now, he’d have a woman’s dress undone and she’d be panting underneath him. But with Grace, for some reason he was in no rush. He wanted to savor the moment.
 

“If you take a man’s hand,” he started, “and gently stroke the palm…” Slowly, he drew his finger over the hollow of her sensitive skin. Her pulse beat fast in her wrist, the blue veins under her skin delicate cobwebs that showed her aristocracy. “Or, if you draw your fingers along the outside of his, as if you’re a child tracing a hand on parchment….” He drew his finger over the tip of her thumb, down to that secret curve and slowly back up over her finger.

Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a slight breath, so slight that many may have missed it. But he hadn’t. No, he couldn’t seem to look away. He wanted to notice every detail, memorize the way her pupils flared, the way her lips parted, the way her lashes fluttered rapidly.

“Better yet…” Cradling the back of her hand in his palm, he brushed his thumb across her wrist, seeing how far he could push her. She jumped, the touch too intimate, the skin too sensitive. “The inside of the wrists…”

She pulled her arm away, holding her hand close to her chest as if she’d been injured…wounded. “Wonderful, thank you. I think I’ve learned enough.” She snatched up her bonnet, preparing to flee. Hell, if a simple touch could make her so uneasy, she didn’t stand a chance of winning her earl. Her footsteps were hurried as she started toward the door. Coward. He’d made her feel and she wasn’t used to such emotion.
 

“We’re not done.”

She looked back at him, helplessness shining in her eyes. She was going to run and if she did, he doubted she’d ever return. He curled his fingers, the imprint of her hand still tingling unspoken upon his palm.
Let her go…Let her go…

“You want to win your earl, don’t you?” He didn’t give her time to respond. “Now, even when at a ball there are things you can do to encourage affection. For instance, you can place your hand on the back of a gentleman’s body without notice.” He stepped toward her and slid his arm around her waist. His heart beat frantically as he waited to see if she’d rebuff his advances, or stay. He prayed she’d stay.