Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,100

In time, he would realize how foolish he’d been, how unimportant were his petty resentments. And their child would look up to him as a man of honor.

He pressed his hand against her back, urging her across the room to a chaise. Though she felt the shivery anticipation of his intent, she set her heels. “Wait. I’ve something to tell you. Something very important.”

“Nothing can be as important as this.” He nuzzled her breasts, the tip of his tongue dipping into the shadowed valley. His hands reached back to release the buttons of her gown.

“Please, Drake, listen.” Catching his upper arms, she wrapped her fingers around his hard muscles. “I’m going to have your baby.”

His gaze searched hers as he slowly straightened. Into the silence, the rain dripped from the eaves and tapped on the windowpanes. His rakish charm altered subtly into a look of intense concentration. In a gruff voice, he said, “Do you know this … for certain?”

She nodded, her throat choked. She wanted so badly for him to be pleased, to share in her happiness. “The physician examined me this morning. Shortly after the new year, we’re to have a child.”

He drew a raspy breath. Then he brought his hands up to lightly caress her shoulders. As if she were made of the finest porcelain, he drew her against him, pressing his cheek to her hair. “A baby,” he said in a roughened undertone. “My God.”

She laughed at his dazed tone. “I found it hard to believe at first, too.”

“You should have told me straightaway. I’d have guarded my damned temper. And I certainly wouldn’t have pawed you.” As if to verify that, he reached between them and very gently cradled her belly.

More than words, the tenderness in his touch bespoke the power of his emotions. She felt the bond between them strengthen and grow. Though he hadn’t voiced any words of affection, she felt certain he would in time. He would conquer his prejudice against the nobility and love her for herself.

She teased him, brushing her breasts against him. “I happen to like the way you touch me.”

He set her back firmly. “Have you been ill? You’re pale.”

“I’ve been overly weary, that’s all—”

“Then you ought to be lying down.” His arm around her waist, he walked her to the door. “I’m taking you home. As for your school, I’ll hire another instructor. You mustn’t overtax yourself.”

Rather than irk her, his masterful manner gave her hope that he truly cared for her. As he opened the door, she looped her arms around his neck. “I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said I may continue all my normal activities.”

His eyes gleamed with a banked fire. “I’ll consult with him myself and see about that—”

Abruptly he bit off his words, his dark brows lowering. He turned his head to peer down the passageway in the direction of the study.

At the same moment, Alicia grew aware of the sound of raised voices. Holding on to him, she strained to see over his broad shoulder.

Just then, James wheeled out of the study. Sarah marched stiffly beside him. At first, Alicia thought they were quarreling. Until she saw the tall, distinguished gentleman who stepped out of the study after them.

Lord Hailstock.

Chapter Twenty-four

“Stay here,” Drake said in a low-pitched voice. “I’ll deal with him.”

Alicia had no intention of meekly retreating into the morning room. “No,” she murmured. “Something tells me they’ll need a mediator.”

Ignoring his impatient exclamation, she hastened down the passage. James and his father faced each other like two snarling dogs. Each time James attempted to wheel away, Lord Hailstock stepped out to block him. Their sharp voices echoed against the green-painted walls.

“I am not finished,” the marquess snapped. “You will have the courtesy to remain still and listen.”

James met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve heard quite enough. Whether you will admit so or not, I’m of age and no longer under your jurisdiction.”

“I cannot condone this willfulness,” Hailstock said, his hands held stiffly at his sides. “I was pleased you’d discovered that wheeled contraption. You seemed quite happy, going off every day with the duchess. But you led me to believe you were at the park or visiting at her house. And all that time, you were here.”

“I’m under no obligation to report my activities to you, Father.”

“I must concur,” Sarah said, placing her hand on the back of James’s chair. “There is no point to this quarrel.”

“Your Grace,” Hailstock said, lifting his angry gaze to her. “As a leader of