“What are you doing here?” she asked, moving forward at last.
It was not the sort of question she would pose to a regular caller, but to say anything else to this man—this man she had allowed up under her skirts the night before— would be putting on airs to say the least. They were beyond the usual protocol.
Just thinking about what he had done, however, when he was up under her skirts, caused a sudden, concentrated ache between her legs. She struggled to ignore it.
He took a step forward. “I wanted to see you. Your brother-in-law paid me a visit today.”
Clara’s stomach lurched. What had occurred between the two men? She couldn’t imagine.
“I was afraid he would do that,” she said apologetically.
Clara moved fully into the room but kept the sofa between herself and the marquess. She was afraid that if she were within arms’ reach of him, she would not be able to resist touching him. “What did he say?”
“Among other things, he came to warn me not to take any more risks where you are concerned, as any responsible brother-in-law would do. I must see you only in respectable situations from now on.”
“That’s all?”
The marquess sauntered seductively around the sofa. She knew he wasn’t trying to be seductive. He simply was.
Clara backed up a step.
Seger stood before her, barely a foot away. “He also informed me that a possible scandal involving the both of us had come to his attention earlier today.”
Clara’s muscles tensed at the mere mention of what had occurred between her and the duke. She was still shaken by it. “Did he tell you where things stood? Was he able to clear things up?”
Seger’s eyebrows drew together. “You don’t know?”
“James hasn’t returned yet.” She began to feel ill, wondering what had occurred, wondering if the rumors had already been circulated and she was about to be sent back to America.
The expression on Seger’s face softened. “You needn’t worry. It has been addressed.”
“By whom? By James, or you?”
“By both of us. Guysborough, if he knows what’s good for him, will never speak your name again unless it is to comment on your kindness or your grand sense of morality.”
Clara swallowed over a lump of dread. “How can you be sure?”
Seger said nothing for a few seconds, then she noticed a drop of blood on his collar. “Oh.”
Seger saw what she was staring at and glanced down at the blood, too. He tried to rub at it. “I do beg your pardon. I hadn’t noticed this.”
Then he glanced up at her face and his expression paled. “I’m not generally the fighting kind, Clara. But the duke pulled a pistol on me and I had to disarm him.”
“A pistol! Good heavens!”
“Don’t worry, the pistol went out the window.”
“Are you all right?” Clara couldn’t bear the thought of Seger staring into the barrel of a gun because of her.
“I’m fine.”
“What about the duke? He’s not…” She couldn’t finish.
“No, no. This is the consequence of a mere bloody nose. His, not mine. He didn’t take too kindly to losing his pistol, so I had to defend myself.”
She decided she did not wish to know any more details concerning his or James’s “conversation” with the duke. The bloody nose was more than enough information.
Seger gazed down at her lips. “
You
are all right, are you not?”
She swallowed hard as she nodded.
“Good.” He reached out a hand, his eyes locking on hers, warm with an open invitation. “Come and sit with me.”
What could she do but follow him? She was charmed by his potent sexuality, by his silky confidence, his inconceivable good looks. She placed her hand in his, and they sat on the sofa, facing each other.
“I am deeply sorry for what happened,” he said, “and I accept all responsibility. I should not have come to your sister’s assembly. People know what I am, and they are not accepting. I should have remained outside your circle.”
“No. You have honor, Seger. Surely you know that. It was Guysborough who behaved badly.”
And, she added silently, as far as the social “circle” went, Clara suspected that the very matrons who hissed at Seger would melt like hot candlewax in his hands if he ever so much as smiled in their direction.
With a swift glance toward the door to ensure they were alone, Seger turned her hand over and kissed her open palm. Clara tried to maintain her composure, but it was impossible. Seger stirred
everything that was alive inside her. Shivers of delight trembled through her veins with an astonishing ferocity.
“I will continue to blame myself for what happened,” he whispered, his hot breath trapped in the hollow of her hand and causing a torrent of gooseflesh to wash over her. “I only wish I could make it up to you somehow.”
Then he probed her palm with his tongue. She sucked in a breath, feeling as if he could bring her to the heights of orgasm by doing just this.
No wonder every woman in London wanted him. His charm and overwhelming ability to please was addictive. Having experienced his lovemaking in the carriage, it was now impossible for Clara to forget how he had made her feel. How quickly he could become an obsession.
Slowly, he kissed his way to the inside of her wrist and indulged his tongue there as well. “I am deeply sorry, Clara.”
Clara’s heart thundered in her head. She trembled at the sheer, unbridled roar of her desire just from the feel of his mouth pulsing on her wrist.
She’d never in her life experienced an apology like this.
Her voice was breathless. “You’re quite forgiven, my lord.”
Just then, Sophia entered and cleared her throat.
Seger reacted calmly, with the unruffled demeanor of a man who had been caught like this a hundred times before. He sat back, then stood. “Duchess. What a pleasure.”
Before Sophia had a chance to reply, Mrs. Gunther appeared. Clara—still in a dazed stupor—said a silent thank you that Sophia had arrived first.
The two ladies entered the room and moved around the sofa to sit across from them in two facing chairs. Sophia’s face was pale. Mrs. Gunther’s chin was high in the air as she glared hotly at Seger. No one said anything for a second or two until a parlor maid arrived with a tray of tea and scones.
“May I pour for you, my lord?” Sophia offered with a smile, trying to break the tension. It would not be broken, however. Not with Mrs. Gunther’s nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily on the other side of the room.
All Clara could do was sit quietly and try to quell her racing heart and force the hot, stinging blush from her cheeks. Her body was still heated with an insatiable need for more. There was some kind of frenzy going on within her. Her mind was besieged.
She glanced warily at her sister. How long had she been standing there?
Without batting an eye, Sophia led the conversation into lighter matters. She inquired about the health of Seger’s stepmother and asked polite questions about his home in the country. Mrs. Gunther was grimly silent.
Ten awkward minutes later, Seger set down his cup and addressed Sophia. “I wonder if you would be so kind, Duchess, as to permit me a moment alone with your sister?”
Clara gazed at him in shock. His meaning could not have been more clear. Gentlemen did not request private conversations with unmarried ladies in drawing rooms unless they intended to discuss something personally significant.
Something momentous.
Something that involved questions that were asked on one knee.
Had James forced him to do this?
Heart racing, Clara had to remind herself to breathe. The marquess did not meet her gaze.
All Seger’s attention was focused on the duchess as he waited for her reply. He wanted everyone out of there.
“Of course,” she said at last, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “Mrs. Gunther, won’t you join me in the library for a few minutes?”
The woman didn’t move. Eyes wide, she gazed from the duchess to Seger, back at the duchess again as if she were struggling for a way to stop what was about to occur.
But even Seger wasn’t sure he knew what that was. He was operating on instinct, being controlled by his desires, his unquenchable lust for this sweet, fresh young woman who had shattered his ability to stave off emotion. When he was with her, he lost all sense of reason and strength of will, and he was astonished by his malleability. He could not be blasé with her, for this entire experience was new. Enchanting. He had not known it was possible to want a woman this badly.
“Mrs. Gunther,” the duchess repeated more forcefully, rising to her feet. Seger rose also.
The woman gathered her aplomb and finally stood, sending a seething glare in Seger’s direction as she passed by on the way to the door.
He wondered suddenly what he was going to say next. He gazed down at Clara and saw in her vivid eyes a cautious expectation.
So there it was. The first step toward the life he had been avoiding for eight years, the life that went beyond superficiality where a woman was concerned. He realized suddenly that a partial reason for his avoidance of it was to punish his stepmother and his late father for what had happened with Daphne. Even though the old marquess was cold in his grave, Seger had wanted to deprive him of the next heir.
Now, for the first time, that meant nothing to Seger. All he knew was that he could not bear the thought of anyone else having Clara Wilson. He wanted her for himself. In his bed.
He wanted
only
her.
The thought shocked him. He had never meant for Clara—or any woman for that matter—to ever be so important.
As soon as the duchess and chaperone were gone, Seger sat down again and turned to face Clara. He should end this now… say goodbye, but his mental faculties could not gain control over his lust and need. He wanted Clara. He wanted access to her rare inner beauty. He wanted to possess it, and there was no fighting it. All he could do now was try to say the right things without becoming a man he did not wish to become. A man at the mercy of his emotions.
Consequently, he searched for bearings, and fell back into the behavioral habits that had become the foundation of his existence. He reached for his charm, and forced a lid on anything deeper.
Clara’s thoughts were screaming inside her head. What were his intentions? Was she being presumptuous, thinking that he meant to propose?
“I don’t wish to cause any more scandals,” he said.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“But we must be, if I am to say what I wish to say.”
She had to struggle to keep her voice steady, when every nerve in her body was buzzing like an electric current. “And what is that, my lord?”
Looking relaxed and confident, he smiled. “That I desire you. That I want you.”
Despite her anxiousness, she somehow managed to return an equally confident smile. “You didn’t need to come all the way over here to tell me that. I already knew it. You made it more than clear to me last night.”
His brow lifted with amused admiration. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you. Marry me.”
Clara’s body seemed to stop functioning. Everything within her went still.
“Marry you? Just like that? No romantic proposal? No attempt to win me over with a few choice compliments?”
“You said yourself that you already know how I feel about you, and you don’t seem like the kind of woman who needs to dance around a point before coming straight to it. There is scandal on our heels, and it is certain to catch up with us again if we continue in the direction we are going. I desire you, Clara, and since I am now confined to seeing you only in respectable situations, I will have to make everything respectable, because I do intend to see you. Quite often, in fact. Every night in my bed, if I must be blunt.”
He was certainly that.
Clara stood and walked to me window. Her body had started working again. Her heart was now racing, her thoughts swimming. She had never truly expected a marriage proposal from Seger, at least not so soon. She had thought she’d have to do some clever operating to encourage him to reform, and she’d expected that to take some time.
Then again, she hadn’t expected James to learn all about their secret encounters either, and visit the marquess. Nor had she expected the Duke of Guysborough to try to blackmail her into marriage.
She faced Seger. “What is the real reason you want to marry me?”
“The real reason?” He stood also and moved to stand before her at the window. “Because as I said, we are heading for scandal, and I desire you too much to give you up.”
“What do you mean, heading for scandal? Do you mean the duke’s threat to reveal our acquaintance, or do you mean something else? Some future scandal?”
“Both. I cannot promise that I will be able to behave myself if and when we meet again.” He considered that statement, then added with a captivating smile, “Actually, I can quite assure you that I would not.”
Clara felt dazed by his suggestion. It was no wonder every hot-blooded woman in London wanted him. They knew what he offered just by the look in his eye. His appeal was unquestionable. She felt the debilitating power of his attraction like a tremor in the ground beneath her feet.
“My brother-in-law didn’t put you up to this did he?” she asked. “He didn’t give
you
a bloody nose, I hope.”
“I assure you, our conversation was non-violent. In fact, he has no idea I am here, let alone proposing to you. I’m not even sure he would approve if he knew.”
Breathing deeply as she gathered the facts—and her composure—Clara groped for understanding. She needed to know what this was about and how the marquess truly felt about being attached to her for a lifetime.
“I don’t want a forced marriage,” she said. “I want my husband to be sure that he wants me.”
“There are no worries there. I am sure.”
She narrowed her gaze at him.
“You want more from me, don’t you?” he asked. “You want me to pour my heart out to you?”
Clara saw the reluctance in his eyes and knew that he had already said more and done more than he ever intended to say or do with any woman.
A sudden thought of all the other women pummeled her confidence, and she reminded herself what kind of man he was. She told herself it was dangerous to hope for too much.