Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,46
liar. Come to bed with me.”
He extended his hand to her. She could only gape at him in breathless agitation. One black lock dipped onto his brow, giving him a rakish air. The strong line of his throat widened to the contoured muscles of his chest. Behind her loomed the tousled sheets, the counterpane in a shade of blue as deep and mysterious as his eyes.
“I haven’t slept yet,” he went on in that husky, hypnotic voice. “Lie down with me. Let me hold you, kiss you.”
Defying the dictates of her mind, her body softened. He was her husband. And yet she did not know the intimacy of cuddling in the darkness with him. She could detect his faintly smoky scent, the hint of brandy. He had been at his club all night, gambling, drinking, carousing. She had every reason to despise such a rascal. So why did she feel the bite of temptation?
“You’re violating our agreement,” she snapped, appalled to hear a wobble in her voice.
“Nonsense. We agreed I could charm you. If only you’d let me, I’d show you the sweetest pleasure any woman could know.” Catching her wrist, he brought it to his lips, planting a kiss on her tender inner flesh.
A flurry of gooseflesh raced up her arm and into her bosom. She wanted to succumb, and her weakness horrified her. The keys rattled as she snatched back her hand. “We also agreed you’d stop when I told you so.”
“Which you have yet to do.”
She backed away from the dangerous intent on his face. “Profligate. I’m telling you to stop right now.”
“Puritan,” he murmured. “You can’t deny me forever.”
As if he had all the time in the world, he strolled after her. She retreated until her bottom met the hard edge of a table near the connecting door. She longed to take refuge in her own bedchamber, but Kitty might still be coaxing the coals into flame.
Gripping the keys like a weapon, Alicia glared at him. “Once I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain, you’ll leave me be.”
“Once I’ve had you, I’ll leave you be.”
Did he mean it? That he would cease tormenting her if she allowed him a husband’s rights just once? If she could believe that …
Alicia wrenched her mind from that appalling path. How could she even consider giving an inch to this scoundrel? “This discussion is absurd,” she said icily. “Especially since our agreement is nearly fulfilled.”
He stopped, all playfulness vanishing. “You’ve found a way for me to enter society.”
She nodded, and her heart slowed its frantic beating. The approval of the ton was what he really wanted, the reason he had wed her. How foolish of her to have forgotten that. “Yes, I have.”
“Tell me how,” he said.
“Sarah, the Duchess of Featherstone, has agreed to give us her nod of approval.”
His eyes narrowed to a secretive expression. Or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight. “When will this event come about?”
“Lord and Lady Cuthbert are giving a ball next Tuesday. Sarah intends to bring us along as her guests.”
They had spent the afternoon making plans, laughing together like old times, though a certain wariness lingered, perhaps because they each knew they were using the other. But that didn’t seem to matter. Alicia could only think of how amazingly wonderful it was that she and Sarah had overcome their animosity. They had chatted for hours, filling each other in on the joys and sorrows of their lives, although, of course, Alicia had confessed little about her marriage. It was enough for Sarah to know of Gerald’s debts and the necessity of accepting Drake Wilder’s offer.
“Who is she to you?” Drake asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The duchess. You had a wistful look on your face.”
Reluctant to share her private thoughts with him, she schooled her features into a cool expression. “We were friends once. A long time ago—during our come-out Season.”
“If she scorned you after your father’s ruin and your mother’s illness, she isn’t much of a friend.”
“That wasn’t the case. We had a disagreement about … something else.”
“What?”
Alicia compressed her lips. From the force of his stare, she knew he would dig until he uncovered the truth. Wasn’t it better to fob him off with a brief explanation? From the table behind her, she picked up an enameled snuffbox, one of a collection on display. “It was silly, really,” she said, pretending to admire the mosaic design. “We both favored the duke.”