“It won’t take long at all. Sometimes he falls asleep while he’s at the reins.” She glanced back at Nick. “How old were you when your mother died?”
His face closed. “Thirteen.”
“How horrible for you.”
“Was it?” he asked without a bit of emotion in his voice. “In a way, it was a relief.”
Sara could only guess at the pain that simple statement hid. She looked at the earl’s cool demeanor and realized how successfully he managed to keep all conversation away from himself. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His expression slipped, and she glimpsed a flicker of pain so raw that her own heart ached. Then he reached down and drew her to her feet. “We have better things to do than talk.” So saying, he led her down the path, well out of sight of the carriage, to a halt by a wide grassy spot. “Are you ready, sweet?”
A slow, slumberous smile softened the lines around his mouth. He took her hand and turned it palm up. With an expert flick of his thumb, he un-fastened one of the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. Her glove parted to reveal the tender skin of her inner wrist. Her skin tingled as if he’d stroked it.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” Heavens, was that her voice sounding so breathy and unsure?
He lightly skimmed his fingers over the exposed skin, and Sara drew in a sharp breath. Thousands of chills danced up her arm and settled in the most unexpected places.
Nick flicked open another button, and another, then gently drew the glove from her hand. “The mistake most women make when dealing with a man is in believing that all pleasure comes from the sexual act itself. It is far, far more than that. The beginning, the expectation, can be almost as sweet as the act itself.”
“Can it?” She cursed her voice for quavering in such a hideously weak fashion.
“It takes a certain amount of knowledge to tempt a man without getting…” his gaze dropped to her lips “…bitten.”
The fingers of her free hand found the loop to her reticule and she clutched it to her. “I’m not afraid of getting bitten.”
“You should be.”
“The only time a woman is in any danger with a rake is if she loses her heart.” She met his gaze evenly. “I have too much control to allow such a thing to occur.”
His sudden smile made him all too appealing. “Do you, indeed?”
Sara boldly placed her hand on his chest, her fingers curving slightly so that they pressed into his skin. “I thought we were coming here to practice kissing.”
His gaze narrowed into a frown. “You don’t know what game you are playing.”
“Don’t I?” She was glad to see the tension along his jaw. She slowly slid her hand up his chest.
His hand covered hers, halting it. “You are an intoxicating woman, Sara. I don’t think you know how much so.”
Agonizingly aware of the warmth of his hand over hers, Sara wished her heart wouldn’t gallop in such a reckless way, that her head didn’t feel so light.
Nick removed her hand from his chest. “You certainly seem to understand the basic principle behind a seduction.”
“Have you forgotten that I’ve been married before? I also have five brothers, and none of them is saintly.”
“No, but they are honorable, and in a man that is often the same thing.” The glint in Nick’s eyes made her shift uncomfortably. “I don’t blame your brother for keeping such close watch on you. You are dangerous.”
“But you haven’t paid him the least heed.” She looked at him consideringly. “Why aren’t you afraid of Anthony? Everyone else is.”
“Perhaps I’ve decided the reward far outweighs the danger.”
The seductive timbre of his voice made her shiver. She hated it when he did that—made her feel as if she were special. She had the lowering conviction that he did the same to all women, that it was as natural to him as breathing.
“I was afraid you’d refuse to come today,” she blurted.
He slanted a gaze at her that left her unaccountably hot. “And miss this?”
Sara swallowed. “You said you had a potential husband for me. Who is it?”
“All in good time, love.” He loosened the ribbons of her bonnet. “Will you be at the theatre on Wednesday?”
“Of course. The new play opens. But who is—”
Nick lifted the bonnet from her head. “I will meet you there and point him out to you. Then…” He tossed the bonnet to the ground. “As you say, you can deal with that part.”
“Of course,” she said with false bravado, looking at the discarded bonnet with some alarm.
“Excellent,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her into a secluded alcove. “I won’t worry, then. In the meantime, aren’t we supposed to be practicing something?”
The amusement in his eyes made her grin in return, and she suddenly felt as light as a feather, almost giddy with humor. The sun shone, they were alone in an idyllic setting, and Nick’s arms were slipping about her waist.
Then his mouth covered hers. He kissed her as if he would devour her, and she matched his ardor with her own. When he finally broke the kiss Sara’s heart was thudding dangerously, and she belatedly realized she was grasping his lapels.
When she had caught her breath, she asked, “Lesson two?”
He looked down at her, a strange glint in his eyes. “Lesson two: never underestimate the power of a simple kiss.”
“Is that why you asked for a kiss as payment?”
His mouth curved into a smile that made her heart thud an extra beat. “Of course.”
She watched him warily. “It isn’t very chivalrous of you to ask for payment.”
“If I were chivalrous, I wouldn’t be helping you ruin your life.”
A sudden wave of uncertainty made Sara change the subject. “What other lessons must I learn?”
He took her hand and placed it on his arm, his fingers trailing a heated path across her knuckles. “Number three: If you want to show a man you are interested in him, then touch him.”
“Touch?” Her voice was so husky that it was almost a whisper. She cleared her throat. “In what way?”
His mouth quirked into a self-satisfied smile. “Directly.”
Her gaze drifted downward to his perfectly fitted breeches. The expensive cloth clearly outlined his male member—long and thick and taut with desire. And the man was smiling at her, as if he found his arousal amusing. Or was it anticipation of her reaction?
Without taking time to consider her actions, she reached out and placed her hand on the line of his turgid member, her fingers closing over him and squeezing ever so slightly.
Nick’s smile froze in place. Slowly, his thick lashes dropped over his eyes, and, for an instant, he stood, not moving.
“Well?” she said silkily. “Did I do it right?”
“Not quite. My breeches are still buttoned.”
She snatched her hand away, her cheeks hot. The man was completely without honor.
His mouth twitched into a painful smile. “Actually, that wasn’t quite what I meant by ‘touch.’”
Embarrassment heated her face. “No?”
“No. I meant something a little more…subtle. Like the brush of a finger along a man’s arm, the feel of your cheek against his as you dance. Men find that intoxicating—though not as intoxicating as what you did to me.”
“I think we’ve had enough lessons for today,” she said stiffly, turning away.
He caught her hand and pulled her back around to face him. “You are a surprising woman, Sara Lawrence.”
The low timbre of his voice softened her embarrassment, and she looked at him expectantly.
“What would you do if a rake whispered that your eyes shimmer like a pool of water, that your skin is as soft as silk, that your voice is like the brush of velvet over bared skin?”
“I’d laugh.” Unless it was Nick who spoke such ridiculous platitudes. Especially if he were attempting to seduce her.
“Tsk, tsk, Sara. Such a
heartless response would discourage your opponent and make him slink off into the shrubbery and leave you to your own devices. That is not what you want, sweet. You want him bold, passionate, crazed with lust.”
That was true, especially the crazed with lust part. “I will need to encourage him. Which you have already shown me how to do.”
He smiled, slow and sure, his eyes warm. “So assume I am a man you have just lured into the garden. Why don’t you practice your wiles on me?”
Sara bit her lip. If she were ever truly alone with Nick, there would be no stopping.
He leaned closer so that his voice brushed over her like the touch of wind on damp skin. “Come to Hibberton Hall this evening, Sara. I’ll send a carriage. We can practice in earnest there.”
Before today, she would have agreed. But now she knew all too well the danger of being alone with him. “What would that accomplish?”
“There are things you should know if you are going to attempt to seduce a man, Sara.”
“I just want him to agree to marry me, nothing more.”
He waved an impatient hand. “If you want a man to come to that point so quickly, you are going to have to seduce him. It’s the only way.”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. “Still…I think you are just trying to get me alone to kiss me again.”
“If I wanted to kiss you, you would not be talking right now.”
“What if I didn’t want to be kissed?” she asked, intrigued.
His eyes darkened and Sara’s breath caught in her throat. They were completely secluded, the landau too far away for Hopkins or Anna to hear her cries. Her heart pounding, she took a step away from Nick, the rough bark of a tree pressing into her back.
Nick placed his hand by her shoulder and leaned closer. “Lesson four: Never challenge a man unless you are prepared to deal with the consequences.”
A shimmer of hot lust fluttered in her stomach and she was agonizingly aware of his mouth, just a scant inch from hers. She looked at the sensuous line of his lips and found that she couldn’t swallow.
“You aren’t kissing me,” she whispered, trying to make her mind work when all it wanted to do was explode in the white heat of his embrace.
He straightened, a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t need to. See? You know far less about men than you think, my love.”
“I know enough to know they cannot be trusted,” she blazed up at him. “Ever.”
“True. So what will you do once you are married?”
“Whatever I want.”
“And what if what you want is…me?”
Her mouth went dry. “You?”
He lifted a finger to trace the edge of her mouth to her chin, the touch leaving a trail of heat. “You want me, Sara.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you disarmed yourself.” At her look of confusion, he pointed to her feet. “You dropped your reticule.”
As if asleep, she looked down at where her reticule rested by her foot, right beside her forgotten bonnet. Damn it, it was unfair. He had but to bring his lips near hers and she lost her mind.
A tiny prickle of heat stirred in her stomach. Nick’s subtle cologne was a deadly mixture of sandalwood and raw heat. “I drop my reticule all of the time. It is something of a bad habit for me.”
“And this is something of a bad habit for me.” Nick placed his other hand on the tree by Sara’s other shoulder, trapping her in the makeshift prison of his arms.
He smiled softly, and Sara could not look away from his mouth. “Poor Sara. To be so much among men and still not understand the most basic tenet. It is the pursuit, not the capture, that thrills most men.” His gaze slid over her face, touching on her brows, her cheeks, then coming back to rest on her mouth. “A kiss is just the beginning of the war, the first skirmish. As such, it is vastly important.”
“If I wanted to get free, I could kick you,” she said, although her bones were turning to the consistency of warm butter.
“Could you?” He leaned forward and trailed his lips across her forehead, stopping at her temple, where his warm breath stirred the tendrils of her hair. Sara closed her eyes against the onslaught of raw sensuality that melted the last of her resistance. For an instant, she wanted him so fiercely she was hard-pressed not to lean into his arms and toss her inhibitions to the wind.
“Sara,” he murmured against her cheek, “your objective is to tempt the man you decide to marry until he is crazed with lust. Until he decides he must have you at all costs—even marriage. A simple kiss will not be enough.”
“No?”
Nick had to stifle a grin at the look of pure astonishment on her face. “Of course not. He must be so crazed for you that he will brave those angry brothers of yours and commit himself to the wedding vows before he knows what he’s done.”
She frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“In addition to a kiss, you want to look a little…disheveled.”
“Disheveled?” Her voice rose an octave. “How?”
His brows rose devilishly. “You might want to muss your gown a bit.” His fingers dropped to her neck. Her skin warmed his fingertips and heat stirred in his loins. Keeping his face bland, he trailed his hand across her shoulder and pushed down the shoulder of her gown. Her skin gleamed white and perfect, the delicate hollows at the base of her throat pooling with seductive shadows.
She stared up at him, her breath coming swiftly, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Do you—” She broke off to swallow. “Do you think this would cause him to want me more?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, aware of the tightness of his breeches.
She wet her lips, her pink tongue tracing a quick line across her mouth before disappearing. “Then I shall have to try it.”
“Then I think,” he said, one finger following the delicate slope of her neck where it met her shoulder, “it would be even better if you were to do this.” He removed a pin from her hair and a thick, dusky curl fell across her luminescent skin. He removed another pin and another, until a cloud of rich waves fell about her, caressing the curve of her bared shoulder. Nick took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of lavender.
She raised her eyes to his. “Do I…do I look seductive?”
“God, yes,” he whispered as he stared down into her eyes, mesmerized by the pale blue, so startling between her black lashes. Pounding lust roared in his ears—and before he knew what he was doing, he kissed her. Burningly.
He had to have her. To taste her. To make her his. He wanted her thoughts to be of him and no one else.
At first, she stiffened beneath his onslaught. He yanked her against him, his hand kneading her tender flesh through her dress. Instead of pulling away, as he half expected, she clutched his shoulders and was soon returning his kiss with the same passion. The kiss shifted, expanded into something else. Something more. Nick stilled in shock, and Sara leaned into him, moaning into his mouth, her hands entangled in the folds of his coat.
Passion crashed through him, tightening his groin painfully with deep-seated need. He’d wanted her since he’d first seen her, and now she was his for the taking.
But not entirely. He wanted her in his bed, willing and pliant beneath him. He wanted her spirit and fire tangled in his sheets, the heavenly scent of lavender on his pillows. Every sinew of his being yearned for her, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he broke the embrace and released her, his breathing loud in the silence. She staggered backward toward the tree, her hair a cloud of black about her flushed face, her lips swollen and red from his kiss.
For a long moment neither spoke, they just stood and stared as their breathing slowly subsided to normal. Nick rubbed a hand across his neck. “Sara, we must—”
“Hopkins will be frantic and so will Anna.” She shoved herself away from the tree and adjusted her gown, her face red. She put a trembling hand to her hair. “My pins.”
He retrieved three from the ground and
held them out. She snatched them as if afraid she’d burn her fingers on his skin. Considering the smoldering embers of desire that scorched him still, she was wise to fear it.
Sara attempted to put her hair back in some sort of order, her hands trembling. After a moment, she muttered a curse and then pulled her bonnet back over her hair. “Thank you very much for your lessons. I’ve learned quite a lot.”
So had he. Far more than he’d anticipated. “I hope you don’t think my actions were too forceful.”
Her gaze flew to his. “You had a very valid point. I—I never knew that some men could make a woman forget her objectives.” She took a breath, calming herself. “I shall have to prevent that from occurring. But now, I must return to Anna. I look forward to seeing you at the theatre on Wednesday.”
She left, the scent of lavender trailing in her wake. Nick stared down at her reticule at his feet. The next time he kissed Lady Carrington, it would be as he carried her to his bed. Smiling to himself, he made his way back to his horse.
Chapter 12
Hibberton Hall rang with the sound of an off-key baritone, the French ditty echoing down the stairs and into the foyer. Nick paused in handing Wiggs his hat and gloves.
After a thoughtful moment, the elderly butler said, “I believe the comte is very talented. For a Frenchman, that is.”
The voice increased, careering even more wildly off-key.
Nick grimaced. “I would grant him ‘loud,’ but I draw the line at ‘talented.’”
The butler’s blue eyes twinkled. “Yes, my lord.” He took the earl’s coat and made as if to turn away.
“Wiggs,” Nick said, “I believe I owe you ten guineas.”
The ancient butler drew himself up. “Yes, my lord. The staff worked hard to complete your task. It was quite gratifying to see them work together in such a way.”
“I will have Pratt bring the money to you today. I hope the staff has resolved their difference of opinion over the water stain in the sitting room?”
Wiggs sighed. “I fear we are never to resolve that issue, my lord. Now that the room has been redone, the stain is no longer evident. However, I venture to think that the ten guineas will go a long way to keeping them more focused on their tasks.”