Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,91
she said frostily. “What else can he be?”
“He wants to be a coalman. He wants to drive a dray and deliver the coal—”
“I know what a coalman is,” she snapped. “And you’re making up this Banbury tale.”
“Ask him, then. Each Tuesday morning, Will sits by the nursery window and sees the coalman down in the courtyard. Apparently he’s a jolly fellow, always whistling, always giving a friendly wave.” James paused, a faint grin showing a hint of his dimples. “Besides which, the coalman is very dirty. That part does appeal to small boys.”
The image jolted Sarah. Against her will, she pictured her son kneeling on the window seat in the nursery, waving to a filthy tradesman. In the midst of a very proper horror, she had to repress a strange, aching desire to smile. “How do you know all this?” she scoffed.
“By talking to him. It took a little coaxing, but Will has quite a lot to say.”
He did? Again, Sarah had that disconcerting sense of inadequacy. The sense that she had failed as a mother. In less than an hour, James had learned something about her son’s innermost dreams.
“Don’t look so stricken,” James said in a neutral tone devoid of cold mockery. “There are things a boy won’t tell his mother. He needs a father in his life, that’s all.”
Did he? Was she, in her bitterness toward men, cheating William of a normal life?
She caught James watching her as she paced, his gaze narrowed on her, following her every movement. There was something in his scrutiny that caused her breasts to tighten. To ache with the need to feel his hands …
No. Appalled at herself, she denied the feeling. She wasn’t attracted to this man. She loathed him.
“Go,” he taunted softly. “Begone from here, Duchess. Go to the park or to the shops or wherever else you can flirt with the gentlemen.”
She had the perverse desire to stay right here, to show him that he could not dictate her life. Seeing a crate filled with geography primers, she walked to it, sinking down to her knees, graceful despite her slim orchid skirt. She reached inside and took out a book. “I told Alicia I’d help her, and that is what I intend to do.”
James wheeled closer, angling his chair beside the crate. He cast a derisive look at her fine muslin gown with its daring décolletage. Any other man she would have suspected of enjoying the display of her bosom. But not this man.
“Now, there’s a sight I never thought to see,” he said in his disparaging tone. “Her Grace of Featherstone kneeling before me.”
Immediately she realized her mistake. From this perspective, she was forced to look up at him, to endure his sulky attractiveness at too close a range. “Go away,” she said, reaching for another book. “I’ve work to do.”
“I’ll unpack here. Your admirers await you.” He reached for the primer in her hands.
She held tightly to the book. “What makes you so certain I have admirers?”
“Fishing for compliments?” he jeered. “You know you’re beautiful, with those violet eyes and kissable lips. You can’t resist flaunting your breasts at any man you meet. Even me.”
A strange fierceness in his eyes made her heart beat faster. Did he really find her beautiful? And why did she care? “I’ve done nothing of the sort! So leave me be.”
“I want you gone from here.”
“That is your misfortune, then. I am not yours to command.”
He yanked again at the book, but she refused to let go. For a moment they engaged in a silent tug-of-war. Aware of his superior strength, she clenched her teeth, her fingernails biting into the leather cover. She wouldn’t let him win this battle of wills. She wouldn’t—
Abruptly he gave a pull so powerful and unexpected that she followed the book into his lap. Sprawled ungracefully, her bosom pressed to his chest, she could only stare at him in shock.
His eyes glittered back at her. “Damn you, Sarah,” he growled. “Damn you.”
The extreme frustration in his voice startled her. Through his shirt, she could feel the heat and strength of his upper body. Breathlessness assailed her. “What … what have I ever done to you?”
“This.” Seizing her hand, he brought it down to his breeches, forcibly shaping her fingers around his male member.
Speechless, she couldn’t move. He felt long and thick and hot, a man in full arousal. For her.
Excitement rushed over her, reckless and irresistible. She couldn’t catch her breath. “James,” she murmured shakily. And she