To Seduce an Earl

  “A soft touch on the knee, or…” He drew his hand up her thigh and the warm tendrils of lust swirled through his body. The material underhand crinkled, bunching, lifting to reveal her trim ankles clad in…red stockings? He paused, surprised.

  Her breath came out in sharp, short pants, drawing his attention back to her face. “I don’t think that’s appropriate…” She pushed his hand away and smoothed her skirts down, hiding those brilliant stockings from view.

  Scarlett red stockings. How very particular she was and for some reason, he liked that about her. “Appropriate? My dear, nothing here is appropriate. Give me your foot.”

  Her eyes went wide. She looked as if he’d just asked for her virginity. “Pardon?”

  “I’m not asking for your first born. Your foot.” He held out his hand, waiting patiently for he knew she’d be too curious to refuse.

  “No thank you.”

  He almost started laughing. “No thank you?”

  He was done being charming. Charming didn’t work with Grace, thank God. No more pretense. He reached down and before she could even guess his intentions, wrapped his fingers around her ankle. He pulled her foot upward and spun her around so she faced him. Grace tumbled back into the chair, her mouth falling open. “What are you doing?”

  He settled her foot in his lap and started untying the boot laces. “Teaching you, of course. As you asked.”

  “I hardly see what feet have to do with seduction,” she snapped, attempting to pull away.

  He grasped her ankle firmly in hand and chuckled. “Of course you don’t. But you’ll see soon enough.” He pulled the boot from her foot and stared at that red stocking. It had little black flowers embroidered down the sides, curving over the swell of her calf. Wicked little flowers that taunted him. He wanted to make love to her while she was wearing those exotic stockings, and only the stockings.

  “What are you staring at?” she demanded, sounding rather put out.

  “Red. Like your hair.” He smiled, amused for some reason. “It’s rather bold of you.”

  “No one sees my stockings.” She was frantically clawing at her skirts, attempting to hide the piece of finery, hide her true personality. “And my hair is far from red, thank you very much. It’s brown. Plain brown.”

  He tilted his head, watching her for one long moment until she finally sensed his attention and paused her mad dash to secure her modesty. “You, my dear, are an anarchist.”

  Her face flushed. “Am not!”

  He drew his hand up her calf, his fingers dancing over the flowers. He didn’t look at her, but he could hear her breath come out faster the closer to her knee he traveled. “You are. You pretend to be good, don’t you? But you refuse to conform.”

  His fingers paused at her knee. There, just visible beneath the hem of her skirt was a black garter and a brief flash of pale, smooth thigh. He’d seen hundreds of garters and hundreds of smooth thighs. Still, for one breathless moment Alex felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.

  She slapped his hand away, jerking him from his thoughts. “They are merely red stockings, you presume too much, Sir.”

  He settled back in his chair, she settled back in hers, two pugilists returning to their corners. They merely stared at each other, her foot still resting in his lap. He was pushing her too far, too soon. Yet, couldn’t seem to stop.

  “To pretend to know me is not only arrogant, but it’s…”

  He pressed his thumbs into the arch of her foot, rubbing, kneading.

  “It’s…” She swallowed hard, her face relaxing into soft planes. “Oh my, that does feel good.”

  He fought his grin. She looked like a cat ready to curl up and purr. The outside world faded and there remained only the two of them. He could almost imagine a life this way, another life, another time, if he hadn’t left his family. “You were saying?”

  She looked up at him with drowsy eyes. “Hmm?”

  “Something about my arrogance?”

  He released his hold, she merely sat there glaring at him as if it was his fault she’d lost her thoughts. “You may place your foot on the floor now.”

  “What?” She glanced at his lap where her foot nestled intimately against his thighs. “Oh.” Red slashed across her high cheekbones. She jumped away, placing both feet firmly to the floor, her toes curling into the carpet.

  “If you wish to truly be bold, you might leave your bloomers at home.” He couldn’t quite help himself.

  She looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He resisted the urge to grin. “Now, you wear slippers to dinner?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Easy to slip off and on.”

  She slid him a sidelong, suspicious glance. “I suppose.”

  “No, you don’t, but you will.” He rested his hand on her knee. Startled, she gasped.

  He moved her skirt higher, his fingertips grazed her thigh, there, were the stocking ended and pure skin began. Tiny bumps raised on the skin of her thigh, shivers from his touch. Her body was warm, but he was warmer. He had to resist the urge to shift, resist the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt. Damn, but he never should have kissed her. He never would have known how a kiss could be.

  She took her plump lower lip between her teeth and stared at his hand. She didn’t move, didn’t seem to breathe. He was getting ahead of himself, losing control when he was always in control. He released her thigh, curling his hand and resting it at his side. His fingertips tingled.

  “Lightly, rest your foot atop of mine.”

  Her gaze flashed with bewilderment. “That’s the oddest request I’ve ever had. Why?”

  He chuckled, her honesty relieving some of the tension he felt. “Do you wish to learn to seduce or not?”

  She clutched the edge of her seat, pausing a moment. Lord, she was stubborn. But oddly, he liked that about her. He’d gone too many years with women doing exactly as he asked in the bedchamber. It was bloody nice to have someone not leap to his bidding. At the same time, he wanted her, wanted her to trust him, to touch him. And so he waited, his breath held. Finally, she inched her foot toward his polished shoe. He barely felt the weight, yet the touch sent a whisper of heat swirling up his leg.

  She sighed. “Fine. If it will land me my earl.”

  Her words were like a cold dagger slid between his ribs. Her earl. How Alex hated this earl. Hated the man for not having enough sense to know that Grace was a catch without having to do this. But mostly he hated the man because he knew that eventually he would realize how much Grace had to offer. And then…and then Grace would stop coming and he’d go numb again.

  “Brilliant,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now, draw it upward.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your foot.” He raked his fingers through his hair, his patience wearing thin. “Slowly slide your toes under the cuff of my trousers.”

  She laughed a throaty chuckle that burst from her full lips. “You can’t be serious.” She thought to laugh at him? His annoyance flared. So sure she knew everything, but the bedchamber was the one place she was clueless.

  He leaned closer to her. “I’m very serious.”

  Her warm breath fanned across his mouth, tempting, taunting. For one insane moment he thought of pressing his lips to hers, of sweeping his tongue inside her mouth in a demanding kiss. She didn’t flinch at his nearness, but keeping her gaze locked to his, she slowly slid her toes under his cuff.

  “There.” He smirked. “Was that so difficult?”

  She looked bemused. “Truly, that excites a man?”

  “Yes, it—”

  With a daring quirk of her brow, she wiggled those toes, inching them up the muscle of his calf. Heat shot through his body, coiling tightly around his groin. His finger bit into the arm’s of the chair.

  The minx watched him intently, like she was a scientist and he her experiment. “How’s that?”

  “Yes,” he managed in a strangl
ed whisper. Dear God, he needed to look away, focus on something else, but all he could focus on were her warm toes, sliding seductively down his leg.

  “And this…” She rested her hand on his thigh, her eyes sparkling with mischief. His cock hardened, pressing painfully against his trousers. Alex jumped to his feet, turning his back to her. Somehow, at some point, he’d lost control. This wouldn’t do. Wouldn’t do at all.

  “Yes. That’s fine,” his voice came out harsh.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shoving her foot into her boot and standing. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” he turned toward her with that charming smile even though his chest was so tight, he felt as if someone was squeezing his heart. “It’s just that I have another appointment.” It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. He needed time alone. Time to regain control of his emotions. Regain control of his cock.

  Her brows drew together, her eyes losing that sparkle of success and damn, if he didn’t feel guilty for taking away her merriment. “Of course.”

  She picked up her bonnet, but paused, staring at the brim, waiting, as if she had something more to say. “I…I…”

  For some reason he didn’t want to know what words she sputtered to produce. He already thought too much of her. He didn’t need her words of thanks, or praise, or God forbid, rejection. He rushed forward, taking the bonnet from her hands. “Tuesday, five?”

  She hesitated, then finally nodded.

  He settled the bonnet atop her head, covering that brilliant hair. With deft fingers he tied the strings and pulled the netting over her face, obscuring her features, believing if he couldn’t see her eyes clearly, he’d be able to think again.

  “I…Thank you, Alex. That was quite informative.”

  He didn’t respond, merely grasped her elbow and led her toward the door, his other hand resting on the small of her back. What the hell was he getting into? He couldn’t seem to breathe, to think when she was near. Damn, but the woman made him forget, made him believe, made him hope and if there was one thing he’d learned, it was never to let hope rule your life. He opened the door and there stood James, fist poised as if to knock.

  “So sorry,” he muttered, glancing at Grace. “I didn’t realize you were with someone.”

  “I’m not.” He gently pushed Grace into the hall, practically into James. The man skittered to the side as Grace spun around to face him. “James, you don’t mind escorting her out back, do you? Thank you.”

  “Umm, no, of course not.” James nodded reluctantly.

  As Grace started to follow James, Alex felt as if she was slowing ripping the lungs from his chest. It was as if his very being was tethered to her. For some insane reason, he couldn’t let her go without one last word, one last promise. He grasped her upper arm, drawing her back, close enough so that James could not overhear. She turned toward him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  His lips brushed the shell of her ear, so close his breath made the fine net covering her face quiver. “Tuesday...kissing.”

  ********

  He shut the door in her face. Shut the door. In her face.

  Unsure if she should be shocked more by his words, or his actions, Grace merely stood there for one long moment. Tuesday…kissing.

  The words whispered seductively through her mind. A delicious shiver ran the length of her body. Annoyed and confused, she lifted her fist, intending to knock, but like the coward she’d suddenly become, thought better of it. What if he rejected her? What if he pulled her inside and pressed his mouth to hers then and there? Of course that was the point of her visit, to learn to kiss…wasn’t it?

  How very odd he was! How very odd he made her feel. Warm. Achy. Confused. So many emotions spun around in her mind that she felt a headache forming. Yes, she was much better off with someone like Rodrick. Someone kind, someone dull…No! Not dull, but merely dependable.

  “My dear?” Her escort had paused in the middle of the hall. His young face and large green eyes bespoke only of sincerity and innocence, the complete opposite of Alex’s charming smirk. How strange that he should work here.

  And Alex…well, Alex was wicked underneath that angelic smile. There was no other explanation for the way he made her feel, the way he could make her entire being come to life. But this man, he seemed too boyish to belong at a brothel.

  He smiled at her, a crooked smile that was more endearing than seductive. “I’m James.”

  She nodded, it was all she could manage at the moment. He was supposed to escort her outside. Yet, she couldn’t seem to move. Her legs had grown wooden. The world stood still, waiting for her next movement. Her time with Alex didn’t seem over. She had too many questions… about him, about how he’d made her feel. As if sensing her reluctance, James rested his hand on her elbow, a gentle touch, and started forward, leading her down the hall. But she was barely aware of his presence. She glanced back at Alex’s door as if the wooden panel might provide answers.

  A mere brush of his fingers on the pulse of her wrist and she’d practically melted like beeswax left in the sun. She wasn’t sure how she felt. But one thing was certain…she felt. After hearing women praise that magical feeling of passion, she’d begun to think there was something wrong with her. Finally, she understood. She understood lust. Sin. Desire. She was attracted to Rodrick, there was no doubt. And now, knowing how a simple kiss could feel so intense and amazing, she certainly wouldn’t be nervous about touching the earl. In fact, she’d welcome his smiles, his gaze, his body. Yet, why did she worry she’d think of Alex while Rodrick’s lips were pressed to her?

  She paused, resting her hand to her beating heart. Why Alex? Why now? Why him, of all people? And why the hell had she ever agreed to this ridiculousness?

  “My lady?” James was watching her, his green eyes filled with concern.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry. I’m…”

  Voices filtered from behind a closed door ahead. Murmured conversation coming closer. Grace jerked away from James. Was that feminine tone familiar? No. Certainly not, she was merely paranoid. So why couldn’t she prevent the bitter taste of panic from flooding her mouth? A door opened. The thought of being seen terrified her.

  “I must hide!” Grace dove behind a tall statue of an embracing couple. James merely stood in the middle of the hall watching her as if she was playing some childish game he didn’t understand.

  Frantically, she waved to him.

  With a sigh, he sauntered to her side, kneeling behind her. “Is there a reason we’re hiding?” he whispered, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

  “I think I recognize that voice.” Surely she was mistaken. No one she knew would be here. She stood on tiptoe and peeked between two marble arms. A couple twirled from a room, holding tightly to each other, twirling so fast and holding so tightly that she could barely tell man from woman.

  “You do know what I like, don’t you darling?” the woman whispered seductively.

  The man replied something too low to hear. He stopped and pressed the woman to the wall, her face finally visible.

  Grace blanched. “Dear Lord,” she whispered, unable to stop herself.

  She knew the woman well. Lady Maxwell had tea with her mother many times before Mama had grown too ill. Lady Maxwell, a woman praised for her high morals…a woman married for fifteen years now. And she was…here? The young man pressed his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that sent a blush to Grace’s cheeks and made her think of Alex. While his hands, his hands were moving down her hips to her thighs. His fingers curled, bunching the blue material and lifting Lady Maxwell’s skirts higher…higher…

  Grace sucked in a breath and crouched lower, attempting to ignore the dull ache that burned in the pit of her belly. Embarrassment, shame and what else?

  “Come.” James reached up behind him, wrapping slender fingers around the porcelain handle of some unmarked door.

  She nodded frantically and took his offered hand.
r />   Inside the safety of the room, she could finally breathe again.

  “We can wait in here until they leave.” Softly, James shut the door. “No one will bother us.”

  Of course not, because they’d think they were involved in some torrid affair in a bedchamber made for that sort of thing. Grace glanced around the beautiful room where no expense was spared on comfort. It would seem like a typical chamber, if not for the painting of a naked man and woman embracing above the fireplace. The man’s hands covered the woman’s breasts and her face…Grace tilted her head to the side, getting a better view. Her face radiated pure bliss. She jerked her attention away and focused on the papered walls, the only thing safe in the room.

  Grace lifted the netting covering her face. James was watching her, she could feel the force of his gaze piercing her back. And why wouldn’t he watch her? She was acting like a mad fool. Hiding behind statues like a child. Cowering in a bedchamber. She clasped her hands together, one bare, one covered with a glove. She realized with a sigh, that she’d forgotten her other glove in Alex’s room. Even though they were her best gloves, she didn’t dare return for it.

  How long would Lady Maxwell be in the hallway? Surely they wouldn’t actually be intimate in the corridor where anyone could see. She turned her back to James and paced to the windows. The sun was a brilliant orange ball hovering on the horizon. The drive to her townhome took a good hour and Mama would worry.

  “You’re a client?” James asked.

  Grace spun around to face him. “No!” Heat shot to her face. “I mean…maybe…no. I don’t know.” She covered her face with her hands and sank onto a wing back chair covered in a sinful red material.

  “You’re deciding if you’re a client?”

  She nodded, feeling miserably embarrassed. She was an academic. She was worldly. She was…a bloody idiot.

  “And you’re with Alex?”

  She nodded again, settling her clasped hands in her lap and peeking up at him through her lashes. Why she cared about his opinion, she wasn’t sure. But that blasted sincere and honest face begged to be trusted.