To Tempt A Rogue (11 page)

“At least it is not burnt,” Mr. Wainwright said with a wry grimace as he studied his plate.

“A small reason to give thanks.” Harriet poked the bird with her fork. “You know, my nursemaid always told me I would get worms if I ate under-cooked fowl. Do you think she was being truthful?”

“I'm not sure, but it certainly isn't a theory I would be anxious to test.”

“Perhaps we should make Mrs. Mullins eat it first, then wait to see if there are any ill effects.”

“Or I could let the dogs in and we could slip a bird under the table,” he suggested. “They would not turn up their noses at such a feast.”

“For shame, sir, to subject your poor dogs to worms,” Harriet scolded in a mocking tone.

They shared a laugh, but when their eyes met, Harriet's heart skipped a beat. Mr. Wainwright's vibrant, masculine beauty was almost irresistible and this shared joviality had somehow created a connection between them. Harriet felt herself being drawn to him, as hungry, erotic, unthinkable emotions suddenly rolled through her. For the first time in her memory, she felt her body
yearn.

She cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze, doing her best to hide her reaction. Yet she sensed that he knew very well what was in her thoughts.

He signaled for the fowl to be removed and the spell was momentarily broken. Harriet tried to settle back into a normal rhythm of conversation, but her thoughts were jumbled and disoriented.

“You have a most unusual expression on your face, Miss Sainthill,” he said calmly. “ 'Tis as though you have just realized it can be dangerous for a woman to be alone with a man such as myself.”

Harriet released a long breath, then suddenly her mood became almost giddy. Perhaps the result of feeling too much emotion? Or maybe it was the wine? “I believe the amount of danger depends entirely upon the woman, Mr. Wainwright.”

“Indeed.” His eyes had darkened as deep as thunderclouds and in their stormy depths she saw an honest, intense, sensual longing she never believed would be cast her way.

The look he gave her made her feel light-headed. Her pulse began a steady, primitive drumming. This was a man who was made for temptation, who could rob a lady of speech, of sense, of judgment.

Yet as she struggled for sanity, Harriet admitted one final, secret truth to herself. Sometime, before the evening ended, she intended to steal a kiss, a real kiss, from this enigmatic man.

Nathaniel took a thoughtful sip of wine, allowing the full-bodied taste to linger on his tongue, though in truth he barely noticed what he was drinking. But it was a distraction and prevented him from doing what he really wanted.

Which was to kiss Miss Harriet Sainthill. To lean forward and capture her lips with his own. To allow his tongue to stroke her bottom lip, to plunder and taste the sweetness of her mouth, to succumb to the lust that suddenly burned deep and bright within him.

To bed her. To allow his hands, and lips, to rove up and down her bare torso, to suckle her breast, to stroke her tender womanly flesh. To penetrate her body and fill the air with the raw musk of sex and sweat and honest passion.

To have her spread beneath him, spent, sated, exhausted. And smiling.

The woman who appeared at his dinner table this evening was not the same rain-soaked creature who had arrived last night, nor the prim and strait-laced female who had sparred with him over breakfast. And it was far more than the sophisticated coiffure and the fashionable gown that had transformed her.

It was her flirtatious and sultry attitude, her suggestive remarks and that come-hither playfulness that kept him off balance. Her satiny skin glowed pale and fine in the candlelight, her soft luscious lips were ripe for tasting and despite his best efforts Nathaniel was unwillingly captivated by her sensuous, hypnotic stare.

He doubted she had any real sexual experience with men, for there was an air of purity about her that no amount of passionate stares could disguise. On the other hand, she was far beyond the age of a virginal debutante and she had been engaged for several years to a rogue, a man well-known for his prowess with women. Perhaps some of that untapped wantonness had been set free.

A bloody dangerous thought, indeed.

Outside the rain began again, pelting the windows with its fury. Lord Avery knew the governess had left word with her coachman to be ready to depart at first light. He was pleased when he initially heard the news, but now he found himself hoping this dreadful weather would keep her at the castle. For another day. And another night.

“Creamed peas, Mr. Wainwright?”

Startled from his musing, Nathaniel looked up. Miss Sainthill held out a bowl filled with the vegetables floating in a thick sauce. She must have taken the dish from one of the servants, for there was no one near the table.

“Would you care for some?” she said softly, glancing at him from beneath half-lowered lashes.

Lord Avery was impressed. He had never heard such a suggestive innuendo placed on so mundane a question.
This must have been how Adam felt, when Eve procured an apple and offered him a bite.

“Thank you, no,” he replied pleasantly. “I do not like peas in any form. Probably because my governess always forced me to eat them as a child.”

“But peas are good for you,” she scolded, with a slight laugh.

Nathaniel lifted his eyebrows. “My dear Miss Sainthill, upon reaching adulthood I have long gravitated toward those things that are clearly
not
good for me.”

A smile curved her lips. “How delicious.” Nathaniel nearly choked on the small piece of beef he was chewing. When she gazed at him like that he had to struggle for control. Somehow, and he was totally unsure when this had occurred, their roles had become reversed. Miraculously it was now she who pursued him. But why the sudden change of heart?

A cold chill ran through him. Had she discovered the truth? Did she know his real identity, was she aware of the reason for his exile here in the wilds of Scotland?

Pensively, Lord Avery made a great pretense of cutting another piece of beef. He was just being fanciful. Miss Sainthill had proven herself to be a forthright woman. If she suspected something was amiss, she would have confronted him immediately.

Unless she was waiting for the right moment? Perhaps that was the reason for this sudden change in her manner and appearance? Nathaniel's stomach clenched as a rush of wary mistrust overtook him.

“This morning you were ready to box my ears over a mild flirtation, Miss Sainthill. Yet tonight you seem to have undergone a complete transformation,” he said. “Can you explain this rather sudden change?”

“I do not know what you mean,” she replied calmly. Her face betrayed nothing, though a hint of something that might have been guilt flickered in her eyes.

“Your gown, your smiles, your sultry glances. I am a grown man, yet never in all of my thirty-three years has any female directed an inquiry to me concerning creamed peas in such a naughty murmur.”

She laughed softly. “I did not realize you have led such a sheltered life, Mr. Wainwright.”

“Far from it.”

“Good.” She smiled again, presenting a picture of brash confidence. “This morning you told me I was charming. Perhaps I now believe you were being sincere.”

“Try again.”

She regarded him with simmering amusement, never flinching from his hard stare. In fact, he could see his own reflection in the depths of her eyes. But then her expression grew thoughtful, almost serious.

“Do you have any idea what it is like to live your life according to the expectations of others?” she asked. “To always be the sensible one, the practical one, the boring, responsible one?”

“I have an inkling.”

“Well, sir, I have had a lifetime.” She drew in a breath. “I was the eldest sister in a motherless household. At a far too early age the servants looked to me for guidance and direction, since my father had little interest in the condition of his home or the antics of his children.

“He doted on his first-born son and heir and pointedly ignored the rest of us. My brother, Griffin, the second son, left England the moment he reached maturity, but I was female and thus denied the chance to shape my own fate.”

“What would you have done, given the opportunity?”

“I don't know.” Her fingers closed over the stem of her wineglass. “Perhaps I would have gone to sea, like my brother, or maybe bought a commission in the army. Or I could have taken an extended grand tour, traveling the continent and studying art.”

“You have artistic aspirations?”

“Not really.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Nathaniel was fascinated by the way she controlled the emotion in her voice. “From what I have seen and heard, artistic talent is not a prerequisite for those men who live such a life.”

Lord Avery thought back to the wild nights of drinking, carousing, and women he enjoyed during his European grand tour and conceded she had a point. He stared at her profile as she took a small sip of her wine and realized he had been completely wrong about Miss Sainthill.

Her reputation as a stickler for all things proper and correct was not born out of a righteous sense of superiority but a result of her childhood. It had shaped the woman she became, yet had not completely destroyed her spirit of curiosity and adventure. Perhaps even the selection of a fiancé who was wild and reckless was her way of trying to cheat the role that destiny had chosen for her.

“So that is what tonight is all about? An opportunity to be spontaneous instead of measured?”

“Partly.” She lifted her wineglass, but did not take another sip. “I will admit that I would like to know how it feels to throw off the restraints that bind me. I have thought about it often, yet never dared act upon it.” She laughed, giving him a look of soft reproach. “I think you are a bad influence on me, Mr. Wainwright.”

“I find that impossible to believe. You hardly strike me as a person whose opinion is easily swayed or influenced.” He waited until the servants had cleared away their dishes before speaking. “Perhaps my company has merely encouraged you to be more open and honest about your true feelings. 'Tis a somewhat humbling revelation, is it not, to discover that deep down we are all human, possessing the same needs, the same desires?”

She tried to hide her widening smile, but failed. “Ah, so it is only society's morals and standards that prevent the inappropriate sparks between men and women from flaring into flames?”

“One cannot deny that it is society which deems these natural inclinations inappropriate.” Nathaniel dipped his spoon into his trifle dessert. “Yet these artificial rules cannot always stem the tide of human behavior.”

“Or control a clever, determined man who is willing to rationalize his actions when it suits his purpose.”

“Trust me, Miss Sainthill, true passion is an emotion that lacks any rational thought.” Nathaniel grimaced slightly, surprised at the strong burst of lust that pulsed through him. How odd to find this banter so stimulating. Had he been so long without the company of a woman that mere conversation could get his blood up? “Have you no faith in your gender? Are women so easily duped into shameless behavior by a handsome face and a clever tongue?”

“Are they, Mr. Wainwright?” She lowered her lashes provocatively. “I suspect you are more qualified to answer that question.”

He shook his head with a smirk. “I know enough not to speak of other women when in the company of a lady.”

She shifted, and her knee brushed against his thigh. Although their clothing offered a proper barrier, his body reacted with typical male fervor. He could sense a prickle of sensation moving across her skin. Knowing she too felt this vibrant attraction brought a groan of frustration charging to the surface, but Nathaniel swallowed it back.

“Though men may claim to have the more difficult role, women often find themselves on tenuous ground when establishing a relationship,” she continued. “It takes hard work to walk that narrow line to avoid a fall from grace. Fortunately we have a great advantage over men.”

“You are trained to be ladies?”

“No, we possess in abundance what men lack.” She paused. “Common sense.”

Nathaniel laughed and after a moment Miss Sainthill joined him. A delectable dimple creased one cheek and he had a mad impulse to lean forward and place his lips upon it. Sitting so close he could smell the lavender scent on her skin. It encircled him like an enticing cloud, stimulating his senses.

The sound of silverware clinking on china drew Lord Avery's attention. The intimate nature of their conversation had created an illusion of privacy, but they were not alone. There were servants present. Servants with perfectly good hearing who were already very curious about him.

Nathaniel glanced down at his plate, surprised to find it nearly empty. Trifle was his favorite dessert, yet he could barely recall tasting a spoonful of it.

“Would you care to adjourn to the library?” he asked. “I instructed Mrs. Mullins to have a fire lit so the room would be comfortable.”

He failed to mention there was a cozy sofa in the library, perfectly designed for a couple to share. Sequestered inside, seated side by side with their arms and thighs pressed together, they could continue this discussion at their leisure.

He waited, holding his breath like a green lad, hoping she would agree to at least enter his lair. But his hopes were dashed when she rose to her feet and shook her head. “I believe it would be best if I retire to my chamber.”

Before he could stop himself, Lord Avery found himself asking, “May I escort you?”

He could tell the question startled her. Her eyes widened with surprise and the muscles around her lips tightened as she considered the request. “You may walk me to my room if you answer one question.”

He nodded.

“Do you truly have three wards who are in need of a governess?”

“Yes.”

“Then where are they? Why are they not here, living with you?”

Nathaniel's gut clenched. He was so tempted to tell her. Not the complete truth, of course. But a modified version of it. Yet he knew the risk was too great.

“That makes three questions, Miss Sainthill,” he said gently.

He fully expected her to stare reproachfully at him, pivot on her heel and stalk away. Instead she gave a small shrug of acceptance and gracefully extended her arm. Nathaniel reached out boldly and took her hand, lacing his fingers in hers.

Though dressed formally, she had not worn gloves to dinner. The feel of her warm flesh pressed against his hand shot a bolt of desire straight to his groin. He could not tell if she was experiencing similar feelings, though there was a slight blush of color in her cheeks.

They strolled the halls in companionable silence. It was better not to speak, Nathaniel decided, for his tongue felt paralyzed by the promise of what might happen when they reached her door. A kiss, for a certainty, and more than one.

Beyond that—who knew?

Normally he was a patient man. But these were hardly normal circumstances. The lack of time to woo her had somehow caused his desire to heighten to unrealistic proportions. Younger, prettier, more agreeable women had not been able to so capture his attention or stimulate his desire. For reasons he could not entirely explain, this woman tickled his fancy more than any other.

“I cannot help but marvel at the size of this castle. And though I have walked these halls several times, I've yet to encounter a soul,” Miss Sainthill commented as they neared her door. “Where do all the servants hide?”

“As far away from Mrs. Mullins as they can,” Lord Avery replied in a mocking tone.

The sparkle of laughter in her eyes drove him to action. Taking advantage of her good humor, Nathaniel stopped abruptly, turning her until her back was against the wall. She inhaled sharply, but made no move to escape his embrace. Encouraged, he moved closer.

When Mr. Wainwright took her chin in his hand and tilted her head slightly, Harriet's breathing came fast. But when he bent his head and placed his mouth on her lips, the dim, gloomy hallway was suddenly whirling with color.

He brought his mouth down softly at first. A taste, a tease, a nibble. Harriet was surprised by this gentle exploration that made her senses swim. Lust always held a titillating, secret interest in her mind, yet she had never completely experienced it.