The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Their host and hostess escorted them through the gardens, introducing them to the foreign guests of distinction who graced the party. Simon found a glass of champagne and disappeared into the crowd with Lady Damaris Hill, whose whispered comment about a missing stocking explained the mystery of the nun’s identity at the previous night’s midnight masquerade.

An orchestra played on the grass beside a classical pavilion set at the end of the parkland’s sloping lawns. A platform had been constructed for dancing; several younger people had spilled onto the east lawn. The pastel gowns of the ladies swayed like butterfly wings as they moved in graceful flutters.

“Are you hungry?” Grayson asked Jane, keeping his hand on her shoulder in a light but proprietary way.

“I am ravenous.” She hesitated. “It does take nerves of steel to eat when everyone is staring at us though.”

“I have forgotten them.”

“How could you?”

“Perhaps because I don’t care,” he said with conviction.

“Well, then, neither shall I.”

He stopped, studying her with a faint knowing smile. “Of course you care. All women do.”

“Only those who are husband hunting,” she said with a sigh.

“Which we might be.”

“No, we’re—” She bit the tip of her tongue, remembering how she must appear. “I am not ready to be put back on the market.” Not now, and probably not ever again, she felt like adding.

“Remount, Jane,” he said with an unmerciful smile. “One fall from the horse does not spinsterhood make.”

She could have pinched him, reducing the complications of her life to such simple terms. “I wish you would stop equating my situation to equestrienne activity.”

He gave her an apologetic look. “I keep forgetting how sensitive you are on the subject.”

“Sedgecroft!” A woman’s cry of delight interrupted Jane’s response, not that she knew how to respond to his remark without lying through her teeth.

She and Grayson turned simultaneously to see a petite figure in brown silk bearing down on them, a flute of champagne held gracefully in hand. Jane stared. Surely that was not Mrs. Audrey Watson, the popular courtesan and former actress whose intellectual buffet suppers had made her a celebrity in the demimonde and the ton. Rumor had it that the Duke of Wenderfield desired her for his mistress.

“Audrey,” Grayson said warmly, a little too warmly in Jane’s opinion as the pair exchanged a brief embrace.

“Sedgecroft, it’s been centuries since—” Audrey caught herself and gave Jane such a genuinely friendly smile that she could not help softening toward her.

“Belshire’s beautiful daughter, the eldest, isn’t it?” Audrey asked in puzzlement. “What is she doing with the likes of you, Sedgecroft?”

Grayson gave Jane a long burning look that brought a blush to the ends of her hair. If she hadn’t known better, she would have believed he was truly infatuated with her—oh, he excelled at this, the devil. She felt as if she ought to applaud his performance.

He drew Jane forward. “Have you ever had the honor of an introduction, Audrey?”

“No.” Audrey studied the younger woman in concern; there was no pretense about her, no striving to impress. Her earthiness had earned her loyal supporters from politicians to struggling poets; her bluntness often offended. “But, my dear lady, aren’t you brave to be out so soon, after yesterday? And you, Sedgecroft, you did not waste a single second before going on the pounce, did you?”

Going on the pounce? Jane thought in amused indignation. What a way to phrase it, reducing her relationship with Sedgecroft to predator and prey.

“Actually,” she said when it became obvious that the aforementioned scoundrel was not about to set Audrey straight, “Lord Sedgecroft is only—”

“A man bewitched,” he said under his breath, as polite and self-possessed as the next accomplished predator. Oooh. The talented wretch, making her tingle all over with his outrageous performance when she knew perfectly well not to believe him.

Jane gave him a poke in the back. “To be honest, our association is not all that provocative. Nigel and Grayson are—”

“Rivals.” He grasped her hand, squeezing the small bones of her knuckles until she glared at him. “One man’s loss is another’s gain, isn’t it? Let us just say that I have quietly admired Jane from afar. I was not about to let anyone else take advantage.”

Audrey took a deep sip of her champagne, glancing from the classically beautiful young lady to the sinfully handsome scoundrel who, she noted, was holding Jane’s slender hand in a painfully possessive grip. “Whatever you say, Sedgecroft, but”—she brightened—“this means I can invite you to a supper together.”

“That would be very nice, I’m sure,” he replied, while Jane wondered what her parents would think of this development. Surely even her broad-minded mother would disapprove of her daughter drifting into the demimonde. Or perhaps not. This plan had taken the most unpredictable turn. Jane was beginning to think she had jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.

And Sedgecroft definitely stoked the red-hot flames of hellfire in her soul.

“I think I see an old friend of mine at the table,” she said, attempting to disengage her hand from his. “Would you both excuse me for a moment?”

Grayson brought her hand to his mouth to kiss her gloved fingertips, murmuring in a lovelorn voice, “Only for the shortest moment?”

It was an act. She knew it in her intellect, but all her female senses responded to the seductive timbre of his voice. “Yes,” she said, flustered by the realization that he was perfectly aware of the disconcerting effect he had on her. “But I’m only going over to the tables.”

He drew her forward by her fingertips, her knees touching his. A sinful flutter stirred deep in her belly. What did he think he was doing?

“Hurry back,” he said, his eyes holding hers.

And then he let her go. Releasing her breath, she turned quickly to lose herself in the crowd.

Grayson watched her pensively, half aware that he himself was being watched by the other woman beside him. Acting the part of a smitten suitor was easier than he’d expected. Just being in Jane’s presence made him ache for unbridled sex and reminded him he had not had a lover for longer than he cared to admit.

Perhaps her inaccessibility was what challenged him. He suspected there was more. She was intelligent, practical, his equal in conversation. She amused him with her prim dignity, and he was positive there were depths to her she had never dared reveal to anyone. He might have enjoyed plumbing those depths had his task not been to smoothly reinsert her back into Society.

His sultry gaze followed the movements of her body, her awkward dash to escape across the lawn. The fact that she strode like a soldier in no way detracted from the sway of her nicely rounded bottom beneath her pink gauze dress. Pink, he thought, his body hardening in a swelter of arousal. She’d be pink and white all over. Roses and cream. Sweet enough to enjoy in one bite. But he wouldn’t devour her all at once. He would savor her in slow, tender nibbles. . . .

Dear heaven. She had his thoughts chasing one another in circles. His intention was to return her to respectability, not ruin her.

“Is it possible, Sedgecroft?” Audrey inquired softly. “Are you behind that wedding scandal yesterday?”

He hesitated, his lean face amused. This was a critical moment, a test of his ability to dissemble. Audrey had known him for a long time. He didn’t want to lie to her, but chances were that anything he told her today would be broadcast all over London by tonight. “You know better than to ask me that. Would I admit it if I were?”

“This is very unusual behavior. I believe I am concerned. Do you know that the gossips are calling her Lady Jane Jilt?”

He felt a surge of anger. “Not to my face, they’re not.”

“It is the first time I have ever seen you with a decent female,” she said quietly, following his lead as he merged back into the flow of traffic. “Beware, Sedgecroft.”

“Beware of what?” he asked with a negligent shrug, his gaze leaving her to return again to Jane. “I am an honorable man. Have you ever known a woman to regret a friendship with me?”

She put her hand on his wrist. “It is you I worry about. That heart of yours may not easily be captured, but once it is, I suspect the loss might be fatal. Despite what happened to her yesterday, she is a woman made for marriage.”

“That accursed word again. Yes, I know she is made for marriage.” He frowned, noticing that quite a few of his acquaintances had crowded around the breakfast table to introduce themselves to Jane. Little boys, he thought in contempt. They’re practically licking their chops. He couldn’t see her expression, what she made of it. But was she actually going to eat while they all stood there drooling over her? “Look, we’ll have to continue this lovely conversation later. The wolves are gathering, and she is in no state to defend herself.”

Audrey turned to see what he was talking about. “This possessive side of you is fascinating. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it before. It doesn’t mean—”

He brushed around her in annoyance. Hadn’t he promised to protect Jane? “It isn’t what you’re thinking.”

Audrey stared after his broad-shouldered body as he broke through the line of his male friends with his usual Boscastle arrogance. Her heart gave an unsettling flutter even though she had long ago resigned herself to a platonic association with the intriguing marquess. “It might not be what you’re thinking either, darling,” she said wistfully.

Several tables had been set up on the southwest lawn, draped with damask tablecloths that held silver chafing dishes, jugs of lemonade, and pots of coffee, tea, and chocolate. One of Sedgecroft’s friends had brought Jane a plate of strawberries and sugared almonds.

She had just popped a strawberry into her mouth when she saw him cutting like a sword through the cluster of guests. Her tongue curled around the tart berry. She was conscious of the other women around her interrupting their conversations to stare. And no wonder. His masculine vitality cast a spell too potent to ignore. Who would not be swept away in his whirlwind of staggering appeal? He was a breath of fresh air to challenge the stale strictures of Society.

His male friends clapped him on the back and cast meaningful glances from him to Jane, as if awaiting a formal introduction. Which he refused to give for reasons she could not fathom. She already knew several of the young men through her brother. Sedgecroft actually looked angry at them. And at her. What an actor. What a nuisance.

“There you are,” he announced across the table in a loud possessive voice that could not help but draw attention. “I have been looking for you everywhere. Do not leave me alone again.”

Jane felt people staring at her, conversation arrested. Her voice caught at the back of her throat as she swallowed the strawberry whole. Color climbed into her cheeks. She wasn’t as polished at this as Sedgecroft. Her natural impulse was to hide under the table. “Well, I was right here.” Which of course he had known. “With your friends.”

“Friends? My friends?” He cast a dismissive glare at the four men standing behind her. The quartet immediately began to drift away, warned by Grayson’s tone of voice that they had trespassed on private territory.

“Well, who would have guessed?” one of them murmured. “Nigel’s jilt and Sedgecroft?”

“Perhaps she wasn’t a jilt, after all. Perhaps Nigel was given no choice in the matter.”

The four men stopped and stared back at the table, sharing the same covetous thoughts. Was the Earl of Belshire’s beautiful daughter about to be set up as a mistress? Who would have guessed she would be available for such a delicious arrangement? Or did the situation carry more serious implications? Was their idol about to be leg-shackled?

“That,” Jane said, pursing her lips as the rogue himself came up beside her, “was a rather unnecessary act of drama for this early in the day.”

“Convincing, wasn’t I?” He grinned sheepishly. “Forgive me, but I had a hunch you needed to be saved.”

“From eating breakfast?”

He took her elbow. “One does not accept attention from a gentleman without a certain indebtedness,” he said with mock severity. “Breakfast today, bed tomorrow.”

“Oh, honestly, Sedgecroft. Only a mind like yours could make such a connection. Breakfast . . . and bed sport.”

“They are compatible, believe me.”

“In your world, perhaps.”

“Are we that different, you and I?” he teased.

“Of course we are.”

“Well, far be it from me to corrupt you.”

“I don’t think you’re all that corrupt.”

He looked up suddenly, his eyes narrowing. Something had caught his attention behind her. “Don’t you?” he asked distractedly. “Does that mean there’s hope?”

She glanced around. She couldn’t tell at what or whom he’d been staring so intently. Another woman? “I wouldn’t bank on it.”

“I know how men think,” he said in a smug undertone, “especially those men.”

“Those men,” she whispered, trying to rescue another strawberry from over his free hand before he returned her plate to the table, “are of your class and background. They admire—they emulate you.”

He guided her off the walkway and down a cushioned slope of camomile. “Which is precisely why I know how they think. And why I was worried about you.”

“That does not say very much about your character.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” He laughed suddenly. It was good fun but rather a challenge to spar with her. “Perhaps I should have left you in the gray dress.”

“I tried to warn you.”

They walked in silence for a few moments. Jane could not say how his hand had managed to slide down the small of her back, where it rested, provocative and proprietary, the weight of his fingers sending warm tingles down her spine. She had no idea where they were going either. All she knew was that he seemed preoccupied and that she was enjoying herself more than she should.

“I thought you wanted to place me back into the social arena as soon as possible.”

“Yes. But not in the gladiator’s pit. And not by yourself. Did they ask you any personal questions?”

She halted in her tracks to face him. He was starting to sound like her parents. “As a matter of fact, they did.”

“Such as?” he demanded.

“Such as whether I cared for coffee or chocolate.”

His eyes danced in amusement. “What was your answer?”

“I said neither.”

“A woman of mystery.” He feigned a disappointing sigh. “Those rascals will take that as an invitation to intimacy.”

“I told them I liked tea,” she said tartly. “I do not see how that can possibly be interpreted as an invitation to anything, let alone to an intimate act.”

“To a male on the prowl, the mere hint of a smile on a woman’s lips is enough to encourage him. Trust me,” he said with authority. “The fact is fixed as firmly as any scientific principle.”

“My lips were engaged in eating, Sedgecroft, until you confiscated that plate from under my nose. I happen to be hungry.”

He chuckled, claiming her arm again to lead her farther down the slope. “Did anyone ever tell you that your honesty will land you in trouble someday?”

Her stomach rumbled as she glanced back longingly at the breakfast tables. “Only my mother, at least a dozen times a week for my entire life. Where are we going now? People are talking about us.”

“I’m sure you’ve made a favorable impression, Jane.”

“I’m not. I told you this was too soon to make an appearance. Nigel and I never caused this kind of scene in public.”

“Not until yesterday.” He stopped, as if realizing what he’d said. Teasing her was one thing. Cruelty was another. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded.”

“Well, it’s true.” She paused, feeling a twinge of guilt. It was disconcerting to be treated like a fragile porcelain figure. She wished she deserved it. “I do have some inner fortitude, Sedgecroft.”

“All I meant was that the ton has taken notice of us,” he said more carefully. “That was our first aim. Give me your arm again.”

Why didn’t she refuse? she wondered in chagrin. If he were a pirate captain who ordered her to walk the plank, she would probably comply. She was only too happy to cling to his muscular forearm, never mind what disaster loomed ahead. This was probably why her parents had warned her to marry Nigel. To protect her from herself.

“Sedgecroft, not a step farther. This pavilion is famous for the seductions conducted within.”

He guided her forward, a man on a mission if ever Jane had seen one. “I am well aware of that.”

She blinked. “Then be aware that I am not going in.”

He half turned to fix her with an imperious frown. “Stop dawdling, Jane. I need you. Come here right now.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“If my eyes have not deceived me, my sister Chloe just disappeared into the pavilion with a young cavalry officer who is a shade too forward for his own good. You might want to keep me from committing an act of violence.”

“Are you certain it was Chloe?”

“No.”

No, because he’d been too busy making sure Jane was safe from the hungry wolves to pay much attention to anything else. No, because Chloe was not supposed to be here today, and if she had gone to the pavilion, it was in brazen disregard to his orders.

“I’m not certain it was her,” he said, a note of panic in his voice. “But I don’t intend to take any chances either.”

Jane stared at the red-brick pavilion with its four slender white turrets stretching skyward, a tribute to a fairy-tale castle of olden days. “Rumor has it that the pavilion’s secret passages provide perfect trysting places for the duke’s more amorous guests.”

“Yes, Jane,” he said in a mildly patronizing tone. “I doubt Chloe went inside to admire the stonework.”

“Wait a moment,” she said, eyeing him in open suspicion. “I thought you told me you had locked her in her room.”

“A locked room to a Boscastle is not an obstacle,” he said grimly as the fragrant grass ended at a wide paved walk. “It is a challenge, a stepping-stone to misadventure.”

“She always looked like such a sensible girl,” Jane said, shaking her head. “I rather liked her the one time we met at the foundling hospital.”

“Sensible?” He snorted. “One never knows what hides beneath the surface.”

Jane bit the inside of her cheek. She could not bring herself to look into those perceptive blue eyes, not with the secret she was hiding from him. “Um, no. I suppose not.”

“That is one of the reasons I like you, Jane,” he said. “You are a very straightforward, sensible female.”

Oh, dear. If he only knew how serpentine, how insensible she had proven to be in the past two days.

“I wish you could exert some influence on Chloe,” he added.

“I’m sure she is sensible at heart,” Jane murmured, nibbling her lower lip.

“That is because you are sensible.”

“Stop making me sound like such a paragon.” She was going to scream if he kept heaping these undeserved compliments on her head. “It is embarrassing.”

“That is exactly what I mean,” he said, nodding approvingly. “I do not recall such honesty in a woman and I happen to value honesty,” he went on, as if the point had not been drummed into her heart. Her dishonest, perfidious heart.

“I wasn’t aware that honesty was a quality a man like you admired in the opposite sex,” she said in a faint voice.

“Well, among other things.” And they both knew what other things he valued by the ghost of a wicked smile that crossed his face. “Perhaps you can set an example for my sister.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“She has no other female to emulate, you see. Not since our Emma went off to Scotland. I’m afraid I haven’t set a very good example where morals are concerned.”

“Hmm.” No argument there.

“I can’t simply let the family dynasty go to pot,” he continued, aware he was confiding in her again. “The problem is, I thought I had a few more years of misadventure myself before I settled down.”

“How cruel that your sinning must be cut short.”

He laughed, the dark tones of his voice sliding pleasantly over her skin. “Isn’t it though?”

The faint strains of the orchestra playing on the opposite slope drifted down toward them. A concealing row of willow trees overshadowed the walkway. A pair of white marble porpoises flanked the pavilion entrance, sending a spray of fine mist arching into the air. Grayson glanced around. No one at the party could see them now. Besides, the duke kept a parade of servants milling about outside to lend an air of propriety to the place.

“I’ve heard it was called the Pavilion of Pleasure,” Jane murmured. “I always wondered what it was like.”

“Well, wonder no more,” Grayson said, unceremoniously whisking her inside the shadowed interior. “There. I don’t believe we were seen.”

“Sedgecroft, I’m not sure—”

“Be careful where you walk,” he said, his voice absorbed in the disorienting shadows. “The floor is damp, and it’s as dark as Hades in here.”

Hades, she thought with a slight shiver, feeling a bit like Persephone as she followed her dark lord into the underworld. How had this happened? Yesterday she was contemplating her hard-earned freedom, and now, who could tell what twists the future held? How could she thwart his scheme without giving herself away?

“I notice that you’ve been here before,” she commented wryly.

“Only when the pavilion was just built and the duke gave us a tour.”

“Us?”

“My father and me.” He turned, his handsome face looming into her vision. “Gracious, Jane, I was all of three.”

“Truly?”

“Well.” He coughed. “Perhaps thirteen.”

“That’s what I thought. What could have possessed your sister to come here today?”

“I shall give you one guess,” he muttered, his brows knitting into a scowl.

“Perhaps she had a headache and needed a moment of peace.”

He gave a rather insulting grunt at the suggestion. “Only an idiot would believe such an excuse. Do be quiet, Jane. Someone’s coming.”

He nodded distractedly to the gentleman and lady who had just emerged from the narrow corridor, both looking breathless and guilty at being spotted.

“Simon!” Jane said in shock, coming to a stop.

“Jane,” he stammered, his eyes widening in recognition. “What are you doing in here?”

“I—”

“She has a headache and needs a moment of peace,” Grayson said in a grave voice.

“Oh, right,” Simon said, and completely missed his sister’s look of indignation. “The pavilion always helps my headaches, too. Try soaking your feet in the Pool of the Pleiades. I’ll meet you both back outside, shall I?”

“What a grand idea,” Grayson said, glancing at Jane from the corner of his eye. “Meet us at the end of the walkway.”

“Well, so much for my chaperone,” Jane said archly as her brother gave Sedgecroft a friendly pat on the arm before whisking the giggling Lady Damaris Hill in the opposite direction.

“At least it shall appear we were all in here together,” Grayson said, shaking his head. He motioned to a dark passageway off to the right. “Ah, that looks like a place conducive to a passionate moment, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

“No?” he teased.

She frowned as she trailed his tall figure down a narrow corridor that gave quite unexpectedly into a series of deep scallop-shaped bubbling pools.

He turned, studying her face intently for several moments. “What are you thinking, Jane?” he asked in a low, compelling voice.

She sighed. The humid seclusion must have gone to her head, because before she could stop herself, she said, “No young man has ever lured me to such a place. Never.”

He smiled slowly, his eyes meeting hers. “I do not believe you. One or two must have tried.”

Her face felt warm. Her dress was clinging damply to her body from the moist vapors. She felt a flush work its way to the surface of her skin. “No, actually. No one ever tried.”

“Then allow me,” he said, holding out his hand, plumes of steam rising around his powerful frame. “Come here.”

Her heartbeat quickened at that imperious command. To her amazement she felt herself moving toward him, obeying his dark velvety voice.

“What do you want?” she whispered, holding her breath.

“To further your education.” He bent his head down to hers, his blond hair brushing her cheek. “Since there are obvious deficits, I shall take a moment to provide you with the experience lacking in your background.”

“What a gentlemanly thing to do.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, his eyes flickering over her like a spark.

She felt the heat of his gaze burn to her bones. “I’m sure this isn’t . . . wise.”

He ran his forefinger down the side of her jaw, raising shivers on her skin. “There is a time to be wise, and a time to be wicked. Which do you suppose it is?”

His heavy-lidded blue eyes made her feel weak, made her heart quicken. “I think . . . I . . .”

A wanton flame kindled in the depths of his eyes. For the life of her she could not break away from his gaze. His silken voice lulled her. “Be a little wicked just once, Jane. Just for a moment.”

He drew her quivering body into his arms. His head lowered to hers. Before his firm mouth even touched hers, she felt utterly disoriented, giddy, like a child’s spinning top. He leaned into her, his breath a teasing caress at the hollow of her throat. Hellfire, she thought distantly, arching her spine. The flames of the tempter, and I am walking willingly straight into his white-hot heart.

His tongue traced the contours of her mouth with a sensual finesse that made her toes curl in her silk pumps. When he gently drew her bottom lip between his sharp white teeth, her legs almost gave way. A tremor of longing shuddered deep inside her. His tongue delved into her mouth, and she moaned. She could feel his heart pounding in powerful echoes through his linen shirt. The heat of his hard torso lit a fire in her belly, and spread in burning circles.

So this was what had made Nigel and his governess defy the world. This was what made sensible women turn insensible and unwise.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice thick and seductive, “I had no idea how good you were at wickedness.”

“As if I led the way, you demon.”

He laughed helplessly, his hands tightening around her. She was too shrewd for her own good, he thought. Or for his. She would never believe that he had not meant to do this. “Say the word and I shall stop,” he whispered in her ear.

“Not . . . not yet.”

“Not yet?” he asked, teasing her. “Does my prim little pigeon harbor passion somewhere deep inside? Show me, Jane. Share your secrets with me.”

He groaned and nudged her back against the wall, pinning her wrists to the wall with his forearms. Her mouth tasted sweetly of strawberries. Her skin burned with the sensual heat of a woman aroused, and he found himself wondering when, if ever, he had been forced to exert such restraint over the rake in him who plotted seduction, who craved release from the sexual tension that tightened his body into a coil. He was amazed at the painful ache she stirred in him.

This was embarrassing. Here he was trying to rescue her reputation while stealing kisses from her on the sly. Some hero he was turning out to be. But . . .

But she did something to him. He hadn’t decided quite what it was. She wrapped his senses up in knots. He couldn’t help himself.

“I want to devour you,” he whispered.

“Do you, Sedgecroft?” she murmured, pressing her shoulders to the wall to steady herself against the sensation of falling into a black, heated void.

“I am lost,” he said against her mouth. “Save me, Jane.”

“Save you?” she whispered.

Shimmering arcs of color danced behind her eyes. She sighed as his breath raised warm shivers along her collarbone, skimmed the creamy rise of her cleavage until the pink tips of her breasts strained against the thin gauze gown. She stared down at his head. He looked up slowly into her desire-clouded eyes. “I am the one who needs to be saved,” she said with a sigh. “I feel—”

“Better than anything I have ever touched. Dear Jane, never doubt for a moment that you are desirable.”

She studied his beautiful face, the face of her downfall, in fascination. Those blue eyes studied her back in blatant sensuality. Blue the color of a midnight sky, the color of sin.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured in amusement, rubbing his forefinger across her wet lower lip.

She did, and his mouth returned to hers, greedily absorbing her gasp of excitement, his tongue seducing the very breath from her body. Heat and sensual awareness washed over her in shivery waves. Her knees bent, trapped by the iron-hard support of his thighs. She fought the urge to press herself against his body. Her back bowed slightly.

Grayson could not help responding even though he sensed that Jane was in over her head. He thrust, the movement instinctive. In his mind he was already inside her. He felt the involuntary shudder that crept down her spine. Her breasts rose and fell against his hard chest. He drew his hands down the enticing curves of her body, tracing her ribs, sculpting the ripe flesh that tempted him beyond mercy. He wanted to tear that gown off with his teeth.

He couldn’t think of too many young ladies who would turn a stolen kiss into a crisis of self-control. Actually, he couldn’t name a single one. Not that other ladies never engaged in pleasures behind closed doors. But Jane brought an appealing freshness to the forbidden.

“Sedgecroft,” she said, taking a deep breath.

He drew back slightly, releasing a sigh of unadulterated longing into her hair. “Yes?”

“What are we doing?” she asked, her voice shaky.

The original point, he reminded himself, had been to make her feel as if she were a desirable female, to prove to her that Nigel’s rejection had not rendered her unappealing to a man.

He had succeeded to a humiliating degree. His own body burned, the blood in his veins simmering with a lust he had never known. Was it possible, he wondered wistfully, that the lady did harbor a little naughtiness beneath that shell of propriety? No. He dismissed that provocative consideration. Darker motives belonged to men like him and their earthy mistresses, not to roses-and-cream-complexioned young women of impeccable breeding. Too bad for them both.

Her subdued whisper broke the spell. “I think I hear voices above us. Listen.”

He angled his head to the side, his brows drawing into a frown of self-disgust. God above. In his fit of lust for Jane, he had forgotten all about Chloe. “I think you’re right, and one of those voices sounds like my sister.”

Jane smoothed down her disarrayed gown, feeling flushed all over. She was hardly composed enough to appear before anyone yet. Never in her life had she felt such a storm of unsettling sensations. She needed time to recover.

“Hurry up,” he said, catching her hand, back to his usual arrogance. “This is a crucial moment.”

“I do not hear her calling for help,” she whispered in annoyance.

“That is why it is crucial,” he said, dragging her down the passageway toward a small torch-lit stairwell. “Silence implies submission.”

“I shall remember that in future.”

He glanced back at her flushed oval face. He doubted she had a clue how badly he had wanted to take her. “It was not a criticism of your behavior. We both know you’re sensible enough to say when to stop.”

“Am I?” she muttered as they emerged at the top of the stone steps into a cozy towered chamber, so tiny that it held only a Grecian chaise and—

—a man wearing a blue military jacket and Hessian boots, and a familiar raven-haired figure sitting with her head against his shoulder.

“Excuse me,” Grayson said in a low controlled voice that vibrated in the silence. “Are we interrupting something?”

The officer leaped to his feet, his face dark with fear as he surveyed the tall powerful figure that towered over him. “My lord, please, let me explain.”

“I think I understand perfectly well what is happening,” Grayson replied, brushing the terrified young lieutenant away with one hand as if he were a fly. His blue eyes were blazing. “I was talking to my hellion sister.”

Chloe came gracefully to her feet, a slow blush spreading across her face as she noticed Jane hiding behind her brother. “What are you doing here, Grayson?”

“What are you doing here?”

“May we discuss this later?” she asked quietly, her voice both repentant and rebellious.

The officer tried to step between brother and sister. Chloe motioned him covertly back to the chaise a second before Grayson swung toward him. “Let me handle this, William.”

“I do not wish you to be punished,” he said awkwardly, swallowing at the step Grayson took in his direction.

Jane slipped around Grayson’s tall rigid figure and sat down beside the other man. “Do not say another word to him,” she whispered. This side of Sedgecroft was so different from what she’d seen of him. Oh, what a temper.

“But I wish to marry her,” the officer said, twisting his hat in his hands. “I want to ask his permission.”

Jane couldn’t help smiling at this romantic courage. The poor fool didn’t stand a chance in the face of Grayson’s outrage. “How long have you known each other?” she asked in an undertone.

“A few days.” He was gazing at Chloe with painful adoration. “I’ve never felt so deeply about anyone in my life. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Well . . .” Jane’s gaze strayed to the marquess, her body still warm from the imprint of his well-muscled form against hers. Did she understand? she wondered, her breath hitching in her throat. Could one lose one’s heart without even realizing it? Did a person have any control, or did it simply happen?

Grayson and Chloe were engaged in a bitter argument now, their emotions running rampant. Grayson was threatening to send Chloe to her aunt and uncle in the country if she did not control her behavior. Chloe retorted, “You might as well. I have no life to speak of with you breathing down my neck night and day.”

Jane could not decide whom to defend, or if she dare interfere at all. Grayson was really quite effective in his protective fury, pacing around his sister as he lectured her.

Chloe was either very brave or very foolish to stand up to him. He looked capable of carrying through his threat. She leaned close to the young lieutenant, whispering, “If I were you, I would sneak out of here while I had the chance. He seems terribly upset.”

The young man, studying Grayson’s broad-shouldered frame and darkly furious face, was apparently having second thoughts about the situation himself.

“Do you think Chloe would understand?”

In Jane’s estimation the rebellious Chloe was probably too confused to know her own mind. “I think she can handle this better by herself,” she said gently. “I also think she would not wish to see you dead over . . . an unwise moment.”

The man stood, gauging the safest way around the two arguing siblings. “I shall take your advice then.” He glanced down at her as if truly seeing her for the first time. “How rare it is to find a woman such as you who is both beautiful and sensible. Dare I hope you will convey my apologies to Lady Chloe?”

“Go,” Jane said softly. “The marquess is twice your size.” And ten times as impressive.

He vanished down the stairs without further prompting. And not a second too soon. Grayson had concluded his angry tirade; Chloe stood facing the wall, her pale arms crossed over her chest, her blue eyes glittering with unshed tears of humiliation.

That the young officer had fallen in love so impulsively with the raven-haired Chloe did not surprise Jane at all. The entire Boscastle family appeared to live every moment of life with passion, and evidently inspired those who crossed their paths to do the same.

A very passionate family indeed, she thought as she glanced up appraisingly at Grayson. His angry gaze met hers, and she felt her heart jump at the raw emotion in his eyes. She didn’t dare say a word for fear he might explode.

Well, she could fault him for many things, but she would have to commend him for trying to protect his sister, even if he had gone a little overboard. She supposed that his passion for life probably spilled over into every aspect of his character.

Which certainly made being close to him a challenge.

“Where did our Lothario go?” he demanded, glancing at the empty space beside Jane on the chaise. He looked disappointed that he didn’t have anyone to murder.

“He remembered a previous appointment,” she answered calmly.

“Well, it’s a damned good thing for him, or his next appointment would be with the undertaker,” he said in a thunderous tone.

Jane cleared her throat. “Calm yourself, my lord. He is gone.”

Chloe whirled around, her tearful gaze suddenly focused on Jane. “What is she doing here anyway after yesterday? Oh, Grayson, don’t tell me you have chosen her as your next victim. That is so typical of you that I can’t stand it.”

Jane rose, certain her face had turned several unbecoming shades of red. “There is a perfectly logical explanation.”

“Which we are not about to give her,” Grayson said, his tone clipped. “The fact is that you disobeyed me, Chloe, and displayed a total lack of judgment in your behavior both last night and today. No decent woman would be caught in the pavilion with a man.”

Jane’s mouth opened in astonishment. Had she misheard the big scoundrel?

“Find a footman and have the carriage brought around, Chloe,” he said sternly, his hands planted on his lean hips. “You have had your misadventure for the month.”

Chloe stepped around him, throwing Jane a sympathetic look. “I would run from him and not look back, were I you.”

“The lady is here only to protect your virtue,” he said in a stony voice. “Do not ever insult her again.”

“Well, it’s true, Grayson,” Chloe rushed on, her shoulders lifting. “Jane is a decent young lady, and she has no idea what will become of her once you decide—”

“That will be enough, Chloe.” His blue eyes burned like coals.

“It’s true,” she said stubbornly.

Jane shook her head, sorry for them both, and stared down at the floor. “Please stop this, the pair of you. You’re too angry to talk in a reasonable manner.”

“Run from him, Jane,” Chloe whispered, wiping the back of her gloved hand across her cheek.

His face darkened. Jane had the feeling he was just as upset as his sister, but had no idea what to do. A pair of Titan tempers. “You have really pushed me to the limit this time,” he muttered.

“I am sorry, Jane,” Chloe said, touching Jane’s hand. “Sorry that I insulted you and even more so that somehow you have fallen into my brother’s clutches.”

“Chloe!” he roared.

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.