Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,96

than nine months, she would give birth to Drake’s son or daughter. She would hold their child to her breast, and they would be a family.

Now she had an even more compelling reason to win his heart.

* * *

The following afternoon, his head bent against the pouring rain, Drake strode up the steps at Pemberton House. He didn’t bother to knock; this town house belonged to him. He couldn’t feel any regrets about how he’d acquired the place, either. Winning that deed had assured him of Alicia’s hand in marriage.

Alicia.

In the dimly lit foyer, he removed his damp overcoat and flung it over a chair. She would not be expecting him quite yet. He’d arrived early, wild to learn what surprise she had in store for him. It would be an erotic interlude, he hoped. She had been hot for him when they’d parted company the previous evening. What a delight she had been at the circus, her eyes shining, her face animated with unguarded enjoyment. He’d wanted to see a similar joy on her face while he bedded her, and he’d had the very devil of a time resisting her invitation to make love. It wouldn’t do for her to think him too taken with her.

His obsession for his wife showed no sign of abating. Indeed, though he would never admit so to Alicia, he’d had to fend off the urge to follow her around like a besotted mooncalf. He didn’t understand himself. He had always been able to separate his physical needs from the rest of his life. He would take his satisfaction of a woman and then be done with her. But he couldn’t forget Alicia.

Since that one dawn when she had come to him, she hadn’t spoken of love again. Not even in the throes of ecstasy. She’d acted both aloof and alluring, slowly driving him mad. It wasn’t enough to possess her hand in marriage. He wanted to own her, body and soul.

Perhaps today he would.

Anticipation seared him. He would take a quick look around here on the ground floor. Then he would go upstairs and search the bedrooms. Perhaps he’d find her naked, ready for him. Or perhaps she would titillate him by wearing a sheer gown with nothing on underneath.

Yes. He looked forward to undressing her, kissing every inch of her body, hearing her sweet sounds of pleasure, her whispers of love.

Running his hand through his rain-slicked hair, he stepped into the drawing room. The painters had completed their work, and the pale yellow walls glowed behind the mahogany furnishings. But he took only cursory notice. Alicia wasn’t lying on the chaise, waiting to seduce him.

He crossed the foyer and looked into the library. The shelves had been filled with books, and the scent of new leather bindings filled the air. Tables and chairs were arranged on the blue and gold rugs. But Alicia wasn’t beckoning to him from the desk, where he might have pressed her down on the flat surface, lifted her skirts, and slid into heaven.

He walked down the long corridor, glancing into a morning room, the dining chamber, and a butler’s pantry. She must be upstairs, then. So much the better. They would conduct their little tryst in complete privacy. There would be no one at home but a few servants, who would know better than to disturb the master and his lady.…

As he neared the back of the house, he heard the rumbling of a man’s voice. The sound came from the chamber at the end of the passageway. From Brockway’s study.

He cursed under his breath. If Gerald hadn’t yet left for the club, his presence would put a damper on Drake’s plans. He’d have to get rid of the stripling, think up an errand to occupy him.

He was considering various excuses when he paused at the partly open door, arrested by a curious sight inside the study. In place of the leather chairs there were rows of desks occupied by an assortment of servants, both male and female.

Before them, his back to the door, sat James in his wheeled chair.

The heat in Drake’s veins chilled to ice. In a rush of angry understanding, he realized the truth. There would be no idyllic afternoon spent in his wife’s arms.

Alicia had tricked him. Again.

Chapter Twenty-three

James shook his fist at the group. “You will never be welcome in my home,” he railed at them. “Do you understand me? Never!”

That venomous tone enraged Drake. Damned haughty blueblood. The servants quailed in