Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,13
the prettiest nosegay. What of this one?” Lady Eleanor fished out a rather limp bunch of crocuses. “Ye’ll want only the best fer the lady of yer choice.”
“Quite so.” He lifted his sardonic gaze to Alicia.
Her skin prickled from the force of that masculine stare. She could feel her breasts tightening, her belly clenching, her legs weakening. Looking into his eyes gave her an elemental awareness of him as a man … and herself as a woman. This scoundrel wished to marry her. To use her as a stepping stone to the inner circle of society. And to take her to his bed. Her gaze focused on his beautiful mouth with its appealing half-smile, the dimples deep and tempting.…
Resenting his effect on her, she curled her fingers around her own posy. “Make your choice and be gone.”
Slipping forefinger and thumb into an inner pocket of his coat, Wilder drew out a gold guinea, which he presented to Lady Eleanor. “I’ll buy the whole lot,” he drawled. “This should more than cover the price.”
As Alicia gaped in amazement, he scooped up every last one of the blooms. Yellow, white, pink, purple, the flowers drooped in his big hands, the daffodils brushing golden pollen on the sleeve of his dark coat. Heedless, he presented the bouquet to her. “For you, the lady of my heart.”
Flabbergasted, Alicia caught the flowers against her bosom, drenching herself in rich scent. Her voice deserted her. What nefarious purpose had prompted his flamboyant gesture? There had to be a catch; there always was with a man like Drake Wilder. In a moment he would make his cruelly scathing remarks. He would ridicule her mother until she wept.
Lady Eleanor clapped her hands. The empty basket swung from the crook of her arm, the gold coin glinting among a few bruised petals. “Ah, she’s a pretty one. And sweet-tempered, too.”
“Mmm.” Mockery glinting in his eyes, he made a noncommittal sound in his throat. “We are a fine couple. A perfect match.”
“Aye,” she said, regarding them fondly, her small hands folded beneath her chin. “’Tis like a romantic tale of yore.”
“I’m glad we have your approval.” In a swift move, he caught Alicia to his side, his hand firm and warm at her waist, trapping her to his hard body. Her arms were so full of flowers that she couldn’t push him away. “From the moment we met, I knew we were destined to wed.”
He had the audacity to wink at Alicia. As if she were a willing party to duping her mother.
She should spit in his diabolically handsome face. She despised the way he held her, as if she were his possession, won at a roll of the dice. Yet he had made Mama smile, and a curious tenderness tugged at Alicia’s heart, an involuntary softening that stole the edge off her anger. Had he not clasped her so closely, she might have wilted like the blossoms crushed to her bosom.
The rogue. This charm was all an act, his way of trifling with women. He didn’t care about Mama; he would want to cast her into Bedlam Hospital when he was done teasing her. That horrifying thought shook Alicia into action.
She shouldered herself free of him. “Come,” she told her mother. “You must help me arrange these flowers in water.”
Lady Eleanor giggled like a girl when Wilder opened the door and politely assisted her into the foyer. Alicia kept a sharp eye on him, alert for any sign of derision, the contempt she herself had witnessed in him. But he showed her mother only a courteous regard, advising her to watch her step and complimenting her on her extravagant hat.
Mrs. Molesworth came trotting down the dim corridor. “M’lady! You gave us all a start!” She aimed a puzzled glower at Drake Wilder.
She clearly didn’t realize his identity, and Alicia wasn’t about to enlighten her. Not wanting her house made into a battleground, she discreetly shook her head. He would be gone from here as soon as he realized that no matter how steep her debt to him, he could not use her family as playthings for his amusement.
Alicia went to her mother and deposited the cuttings back in the basket. “You’ll need a vase,” she said, slapping the pollen off her hands. “Will you take her to the kitchen, please?”
The cook gave a brisk nod and guided Lady Eleanor down the passageway. Mama’s excited voice drifted back to them. “Look!” she said, rummaging in the bottom of the basket.