The Seduction of an English Scoundrel Page 11

  She darted around him and plunged down the narrow flight of steps, her footsteps echoing against the stone walls of the pavilion, Grayson staring after her in such bewilderment Jane would have felt sorry for him had he handled the situation better.

  Chapter 9

  Grayson raked his hand through his fair hair, looking a little sheepish in the aftermath of the confrontation. “Well, what a scene that was,” he said in a weak attempt at a joke. “Do you young women realize what an effort it is to keep you out of trouble?”

  “As easy as it is for men like you to lead us there?”

  He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you actually defending the hellion?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip, aching to tell him what a bully he had been.

  “You are,” he said, utterly astonished. “Aren’t you?”

  “All right,” Jane said, frowning back at him. “I suppose I am.”

  He looked genuinely baffled. “Why?”

  She swept past him to the stairs. She was flattered that he actually cared what she thought, although she was the worst person in the world to ask for an honest opinion.

  “You were rather hard on Chloe, don’t you think?” she said over her shoulder. “All that nonsense about my being here only to protect her virtue, and you with your threats to banish her. You scared the wits out of all three of us.”

  He stepped toward her, his large frame warm and pleasantly intimidating in the shadows. He was angry at her now, too, only this anger was controlled. “Forgive me, Jane,” he said coolly, “for trying to protect my own sister from bringing disgrace upon herself.”

  “I still think you could have handled the matter with a trifle more tact,” she said. She was determined to hold her ground, as shaky as that ground appeared to be. Then she hesitated, the lost look in his eyes touching her heart. How could one fault a man trying to be both mother and father to his siblings and failing miserably at the task?

  “I’m worried about her, Jane,” he admitted. “I was so close to her before our father died, and ever since then, I feel as if I don’t even know who she is.”

  “Perhaps she feels the same way,” Jane said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Perhaps she does not understand herself either, Grayson. Perhaps you should allow her a little more freedom.”

  A frown shadowed his angular features. “Jane, I think it’s you who doesn’t understand.” He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face back to his, his thumb stroking the underside of her jaw. “Would you have been caught on a couch kissing a man you barely knew?”

  His touch sent another sparkling tremor all the way down to her toes. She inhaled slowly. “Until yesterday, I would have been able to answer that question quite convincingly. Sedgecroft, you are such a hypocrite.”

  He blinked, totally taken aback. “I am?”

  “You are!”

  He sounded embarrassed and amused at the same time. “I am not.”

  “You are. What do you think we were doing a few minutes ago? Or is such imprudent behavior so standard for you that you are not even aware of it?”

  He lowered his handsome face to hers. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. I don’t think you have either. It was something, wasn’t it?”

  “Will you kindly not stray from the subject? It is a critical rule of polite conversation.”

  The corners of his mouth quirked in the heart-stopping grin that had brought stronger gentlewomen than Jane to their knees. “Isn’t the subject kissing?”

  He removed his fingers from her chin, but his sensual mouth hovered only a breath from hers. His magnetism was distracting. “This is a diversionary tactic on your part to lure me from the true topic.”

  “Oh? And how am I luring you, may I ask?” he said.

  “The true topic,” she said forcefully, praying for the strength to resist the pleasures of his enticing mouth, “is that you and I were guilty of the same sin for which you berated Chloe and her officer.”

  There. She had done it, made her point and resisted him at the same time, an effort that left her quite exhausted. Let him refute that logic.

  “That was different,” he said airily.

  Her lips parted on a gasp. “How do you come to that startling conclusion?”

  He was infuriatingly cool. “For one thing, my motives were not in question. I take full responsibility for my sins. Contrary to popular belief, I am not in the habit of seducing every woman I meet.”

  “Are you a celibate scoundrel?”

  “A selective one,” he replied. “I have no idea why my few indiscretions are of such interest to everyone.”

  “You brought two of your past mistresses to my wedding!”

  “But did anyone actually see me in the arms of these women?”

  “Of course not. It was a chapel, after all.”

  “Well, then. No one has really come forth with any evidence that I am a reprobate.”

  “The fact that the civilized world is afraid to confront you with your sins does not in any way absolve you of them.”

  “The proof, Jane?” His deep chuckle sent a shiver down her back. “The witnesses?”

  “The point, Sedgecroft,” she retorted, fully aware he had diverted her. “The topic of conversation. If you want Chloe to conduct herself in a seemly fashion, then it is not enough to lecture and threaten her. You must set an example.”

  He blinked his gorgeous blue eyes. “That is why I am making amends to you, Jane. That is why I am helping to straighten out the scandal my cousin made of your life. To show my family how a Boscastle must behave.”

  “And kissing me in the pavilion demonstrates this in what way?”

  “All right. I admit it. That was a slight detour on the road of my decent intentions. Did it hurt anything?”

  “Well.”

  He smiled. He meant to help her, to heal her. She was an unusual woman, possibly too much of a personality for Nigel to manage. Perhaps being betrayed had altered her perception. She had felt defenseless and delicate in his arms. But her mind was not defenseless. Oh, no. She had hidden weapons that assaulted a male before he could raise a shield. It would take a long time for her to trust again. Could she trust him? Grayson was not sure.

  “I could have kissed you for days,” he murmured ruefully. Shaking his head, he traced the prominent curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  Sensation penetrated deep into her muscles, a pleasant shakiness that spread throughout her limbs. “For days? Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”

  He laughed softly. His fingers slid down the pale arch of her throat to the cusp of her creamy shoulder. “Months even. Years.”

  Her breath caught as the buttons of his coat brushed across the aching buds of her breasts. His fingers moved over her shoulder in taunting spirals and slow touches designed to devastate, to liquefy a woman’s body, and Jane discovered that when it came to resisting the Boscastle passion for life, she really was no stronger than the rest of the world.

  “Soft skin,” he murmured. “I do believe I have never felt such temptation before. From the moment I saw you at the altar, I have not quite been myself. Outside of my usual role, I find I’ve become awkward, uncertain of my lines, the expectations placed on me. I’m not even certain you should trust me, Jane.”

  His mouth was almost touching hers. She felt the rise and fall of his warm breath on her lips, the latent power of his lean torso against hers. Desire stirred in the secret places of her body. How easily she could be misled, she thought. How seductive it was of him to share his feelings. And awkward? Not for a heartbeat.

  She swallowed. “Is this what you mean by setting an example?”

  “Yes.” He took a breath, his firm mouth curving at the corners.

  “Excuse me?”

  “If we were Chloe and her officer,” he said q
uietly, staring into her eyes, “we would still be on that couch. You would not be questioning me. We would quite possibly be on the verge of making love.”

  She lowered her eyes, wondering if he actually believed this nonsense. Her body apparently did, judging by the rapid thundering of her heart. “I don’t think—”

  “No. I doubt you would be thinking at all, Jane. Or even talking. You would be too busy allowing me to please you.”

  She glanced up and gazed into his hard, angular face. Where amusement had before lent his features a look of satirical beauty, a darker mask of desire now gazed back at her. She had no idea if he was serious or merely repeating the lines from one of his famous seductions. She knew that she wanted him to kiss her so badly that every vein in her body throbbed with undercurrents of need. Her lips softened. Her breasts swelled, the pliant contours lightly pressed to the strong musculature of his chest.

  “No,” she said, sounding like a proper young lady desperate to retain her good sense. “You are wrong.”

  His nostrils flared, a male scenting female desire. “Am I?” he asked quietly.

  He brought his mouth to hers, a shock of sensation that she must have experienced as intensely as he did. He felt her soften against him as her knees folded beneath her. He swore under his breath and caught her by her forearms. In the obscure part of his brain that was not aroused by her, he realized he was deviating from his purpose. And would have to stop before he did more harm than good. Yes, that was where the fault lay in his thinking. He had not foreseen that the best intentions could cause greater problems than they intended to solve.

  Reluctantly he drew away from her, his voice rueful. “And therein lies the difference.”

  Jane struggled to achieve a semblance of normality. She felt like a ripe fruit that had been plucked from a tree and dropped. Had she wished for him to continue? No. Yes. Yes. “The difference?” she said in confusion. “Ah, I see. You mean between Chloe, her officer, and us?”

  Her voice was uneven. Could he hear it? Her body was shaking. Could he tell? Of course he could. He had caused this embarrassing disequilibrium, and look at him standing there, as detached as a tethering post.

  “The difference between us and them,” he continued, sounding a little pompous, “is character.”

  Jane eased around him to descend the rest of the stairs, groping against the wall to steady herself in the dark. How he could talk of character when they had been moments from acting on their most basic impulses escaped her. The very stones of this pavilion must have been imbued with some passion potion. She hoped to heaven that being outside would clear her head.

  “We are discreet,” he added as he followed her. “Chloe disobeyed me and deceived me in order to meet that man today. I cannot imagine you, Jane, ever going to such lengths. I cannot imagine you involved in deception. Can you?”

  She rattled off him some evasive answer and hurried from the pavilion before she could catch his response. Her ears had gone deaf to his voice. All she could hear were the bells of her own doom tolling in the future.

  He could not imagine her involved in deception.

  She could never let him learn the truth.

  Grayson was not as unaffected by their encounter as he appeared to be. He escorted Jane from the pavilion into the afternoon warmth, studying her in guarded silence.

  Well, well, who would have thought it? The respectable Lady Jane rattling him to the core. He wondered what she made of it, if she had any idea of how she had disarmed him, of how intriguing he found the situation. She had to be one of Society’s best-kept secrets. What other surprises did she have in store? Certainly he had never been aroused and reprimanded so soundly all in the space of an afternoon. He shook his head, squinting at the light, keeping her pink-sheathed figure in his peripheral vision.

  He thought of how sweet her lips had tasted, how soft and yielding her curving body had felt against his. To look at her now, all prim reserve and aloof dignity, one certainly would not guess she would respond like that. He was dying to know what else he might have found if he’d prodded a little deeper. What an appalling time to learn he still had a conscience.

  He glanced around, satisfied to see Simon and Damaris standing at the end of the walkway, waiting for them. This lent enough of an air of respectability to their brief disappearance that he and Jane could not be accused of a dalliance. Chloe was another matter.

  He halted at the end of the path to talk to Jane. Hypocrite, was he? That stung a bit, probably because it was true. “Will you be all right for a few minutes if I leave you alone?” he asked anxiously. “I want to make sure Chloe is indeed on her way home.”

  Her gaze met his, and he felt another bolt of heat travel through the deepest reaches of his body. Her cheeks were stained a becoming rose, and she didn’t look quite as reserved or dignified as he’d imagined. “Jane,” he asked again, “are you all right?”

  “Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  He smiled at her crisp reply. Despite her effort to appear composed, he knew he had given her something to think about. For all her intelligence, she had little knowledge of sensual affairs. What had she and Nigel been doing together all these years, for God’s sake? Apparently not kissing. Absurdly enough, the thought buoyed his spirits, but really, he would have to watch himself with her in future.

  “Join your brother,” he ordered gently, glancing over her head at the throngs of people on the lawn. “Have him take care of you while I’m gone.”

  “Since he’s done such a good job as my chaperone until now, you mean?”

  His gaze returned to her face. “Perhaps I should ask you to watch over him. You seem to be the more responsible one.”

  “Not in some matters,” she murmured.

  “What happened in the pavilion wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

  “Despite everything,” Jane said in an undertone, “I find it impossible to stay angry with you. I suppose it is a waste of breath to correct a man who believes himself superior to the world in general.” She paused, sighing in chagrin. “Go and make amends to your sister. I shall be fine, but do attempt not to lose your temper again.”

  “You try controlling the Boscastle clan in a normal temper,” he said as he steered her back to the path. “On Christmas Day in our family one practically has to hang from the chandelier to get a moment’s attention.”

  “So Nigel told me.”

  They were on the verge of the lawn now, the breakfast tables only a foot or so from them. Simon and Damaris were drifting away. Grayson cast a fierce look at the groups of young bucks who were pretending not to stare at Jane. This, he supposed, was what reform had done to him. Protecting desirable young women from games he’d once played only too well himself. Games he wouldn’t mind playing with her now, for that matter.

  “One more thing,” he said carefully. “I notice how often Nigel enters our conversations, which is perfectly understandable, but I think you need to accept the fact that if he doesn’t return to make things right in the next week or so, he might not return at all.”

  “I realize that,” she said, managing to avoid his eyes. “I am . . . quite resigned.”

  “There’s no need to resign yourself to anything yet.” Perhaps he had been too blunt. “We’ll find another husband for you.”

  “But I don’t want— Oh, look. There’s my friend Cecily waving to me from the last table. I’ll be safe enough with her, don’t you think?”

  Safe from me? he wondered, his smile ironic. Had he frightened her off? Would she forgive him? It might be better all the way around if she didn’t. The feelings she provoked in him were unfamiliar, more than just a challenge to his self-control.

  She bustled away before he could respond, and his gaze became reflective as he watched her melt into the small crowd of young women who turned to her in welcome. For a silly moment he felt tempted to tell her to be careful. But she had stood up to him on Chloe’s behalf and walked away none the worse for i
t. Again he marveled at Nigel’s stupidity in letting her go. There were mysteries to Jane that the dimwit had obviously never detected.

  Chapter 10

  The old saying popped into her mind again: Out of the frying pan, into the fire. Still a little dazed from her experience with Sedgecroft, she found herself smothered in the circle of four chattering young women. She wondered if they had any idea of how warm her face felt, if they could tell her lips were still tingling from his kisses.

  Of course they all knew what had happened to her yesterday. Her dearest friend, the Honorable Cecily Brunsdale, a viscount’s daughter, had been one of her bridesmaids, an eyewitness to the fiasco. Jane did not know what reaction to expect from the others.

  Sympathy, embarrassment, the generous courtesy of pretending the awful event had never occurred?

  What she did not count on was their fleeting interest in her failed attempt at marriage. Yes, they acknowledged her loss, but only for a moment or so. That was yesterday’s news, worthy of their pity, a few well-meaning if insincere smiles. Far more interesting to these four social butterflies were the details of her deliciously surprising romance with the widely adored Marquess of Sedgecroft.

  “Romance?” she said blankly at their insistent barrage of questions. Now her face felt on fire. “What makes you think I am having a romance with him?”

  “What else would it be?” one of them murmured.

  “A woman does not walk into a room with Sedgecroft without falling prey to his charm,” said Miss Priscilla Armstrong, a self-proclaimed expert on such matters after three uneventful Seasons.

  Cecily, a slim ash-blonde with clear gray eyes, leapt immediately to Jane’s defense. “Need I remind you, Priscilla, that Sedgecroft is Nigel’s cousin. It is his duty to stand in for him as her companion until Nigel . . .”

  Until Nigel did what? everyone wondered, looking at Jane in wide-eyed anticipation for a hint as to what one might expect.

  But she stubbornly resisted revealing anything else, heeding Grayson’s warning that a little mystery would only make her more alluring to the ton. Not that she wished to be alluring. She did wish, however, not to cross Sedgecroft. If his behavior in the past twenty-four hours was an example of his single-minded persistence, she had no desire to arouse his anger. Goodness, he was more than she could deal with as a friend, let alone as an enemy.