Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,14
“I’ve a guinea! From that well-mannered gent. I do believe ’e’s in love with ’er.”
Alicia’s face flushed hotly. Conscious of Wilder standing behind her, she held herself with ladylike dignity. To her relief, Mrs. Molesworth only smiled at Mama’s ramblings, and the pair disappeared through the doorway that led to the basement stairs.
Anxious to evict Wilder, she whirled back toward him. The tart dismissal withered on her tongue. He wasn’t there. Sunlight through the long window poured a thick golden bar on the empty marble floor.
She hadn’t even heard him move.
Then she spied him in the library, examining the few remaining books on the mostly bare shelves. Heels clicking, she marched into the bleak chamber where, in her father’s day, comfortable leather chairs and bound volumes had scented the air. Now the furniture was gone and not even a fire crackled on the hearth to lend a little cheer. In spite of the dangerous circumstances, she felt a little clutch of nostalgia in her breast.
“Mr. Wilder, I must ask you to leave. Immediately.”
She might have been talking to the empty bookcases. He was scanning an old text, his face intent as he turned the pages. “A rare copy of Plutarch’s Moralia. By God, I looked all over Rome for this.”
He read ancient Latin? She tamped down her surprise. So what if he’d been educated? That had no bearing on his unwelcome presence here. “Put the book back,” she said sharply. “And next time you wish to speak to me, kindly send a note. I would prefer that our discussions take place anywhere but here.”
“I’d like to add this to my collection,” he said absently, not lifting his gaze from the book. “Name your price.”
“It’s yours—for twenty thousand guineas.”
That caught his attention, and he bared his white teeth in a grin. “Clever lady. But I believe I’ll pass.”
He shut the volume and replaced it on the shelf. Thrusting back his dark coat, he stood studying her. The shadows from the closed wooden blinds fell across his face and lent him a sinister cast. With the tip of her tongue, she moistened her dry lips. It was uncanny how he could focus his attention, his eyes burning into her, as if he could strip her bare, body and soul.
“I’ve twenty-three guineas for you,” she stated. “Though of course you’ll wish to deduct the one you gave to my mother.”
“Nonsense. It was my gift to her.”
“The dowager Countess of Brockway is not a beggar. She doesn’t require your charity.”
He cocked a lazy eyebrow, as if he were amused by her tart-tongued pride. Then he strolled toward Alicia, his every movement a study in masculine grace. His polished black shoes made only the slightest sound on the uncarpeted floor.
She would not flee, though her pulse sped and her palms dampened. Conscious of the silent, empty house, she held her place just inside the doorway of the library. Not even a clock ticked; the ormolu one from the drawing room had been sold along with the other furnishings.
He stopped mere inches away. She gritted her teeth to keep from flinching. She would show no fear to this knave.
His fingertips brushed lightly over her bare throat and down to her bodice. The caress sparked a path over her skin, and in utter disregard of her resolve, she pressed backward, her spine meeting the hard shelves. “Churl! Don’t touch me.”
His mouth formed that breath-stealing pirate’s smile. “Crosspatch,” he countered, holding up a lavender strip between his fingers. “There was merely a petal clinging to”—his gaze flitted to her bosom—“you.”
His eyes an unfathomable blue, he lifted the petal to his nose and inhaled deeply. A river of heat coursed through her breasts, settling low in her belly. She had the disturbing impression that he wanted to smell the fragrance of her flesh rather than the ruined blossom.
“You needn’t look so alarmed,” he said in a voice as smooth as honey. “I haven’t come here to seduce you.”
Did he think her a fool, to trust him? “State your business and be gone. I’ll not have my mother upset when she finds out who you really are.”
“Empty words. I’ll wager she hasn’t the least notion of your brother’s folly. You certainly wouldn’t tell her.”
Despising his astuteness, Alicia gripped the sturdy wooden shelf behind her. “Nor will you. I’ll not have you anywhere near this house.”
A hint of impatience tightened his mouth. “I see no sport in badgering your mother.”
“Given half a chance, you’ll sneer at her. I know your sort.