The Seducer (22 page)

“How do you enjoy married life?” Margot smiled suggestively and raised her eyebrows.

Diane felt her face turn red. She laughed. “Well enough.”

“That is good. Keep him happy at night and all will be well. If you do not, he will come looking for someone like me. It is not wise to be too much the lady in bed. I think that English mothers teach their daughters stupid things about that. It is all about duty, not pleasure.”

How?
Diane could not bring herself to mouth the word. How do you keep Mister Johnson happy at night? She had not been raised by an English mother, or any mother, but she felt awkward speaking of this.

“I asked M’sieur Johnson about the Devil Man,” Margot confided. “They had never met before that time in the Tuileries, but your husband was known to him. He began hearing of St. John about eight years ago, from men who had dealings with him. He went to sea on merchant ships when just a youth, it is said, then one day got his own ship. From there his fleet just grew. His success at such a young age is much admired, as is he. The smooth way he inserted himself into better circles is envied, I think.”

How?
The word popped into Diane’s mind again. How did he insert himself so smoothly?

Margot gave her the answer. “The ladies helped with that, it is said. He is very discreet, very polished, but is legendary as a seducer.”

That only raised the question again, of how an ignorant girl could keep such a man happy. She pictured the gorgeous, worldly women they socialized with, and wondered which of them had helped Daniel’s entry into those better circles, and who had been the seducer’s lovers.

Margot’s story prodded other questions, however, and they rapidly replaced the ones about women. How did he get that first ship? How youthful was he when he had success?

Curiosity about that had been nibbling at her since the day she asked Daniel about the urn in the Scottish house.

“You take good care of him and you will have anything you want, I promise,” Margot said, patting her hand.

How?

She thought about that all the way home. Daniel appeared contented enough when they were together. He did not appear to be expecting anything that she did not give.

Perhaps that was because he thought of her as Margot said these English husbands did their wives. As ladies who gave duty, and could not be expected to know about pleasure.

She remembered Madame Leblanc’s exhortation that mistresses did the things in that book. She had implied that wives did not. According to Margot, that was why men had mistresses. Not, as Daniel had said that day at the Tuileries, because their wives were cold or sick or far away.

She went to the library and peered at the shelves of books, searching for a small, thin one with a red cover.

It was not there. Perhaps Daniel had burned it after all.

She debated that as she strolled down the corridor. She paused at the door to his study.

She slipped in. There were not so many books here, and the shelves held mostly ledgers and portfolios. Scanning a shelf right above her head, however, she spied a bright red strip of leather.

She pulled it out and went to the window. Page by page she turned the plates. The images did not look as bizarre as the last time she had viewed them. Most were still embarrassing, but the flush she felt did not only come from that.

A sound jolted her. She spun around to see the door opening and hid the book behind her back.

Daniel walked in, appearing as distracted as she had ever seen him. It took him a moment to realize she was there.

He cocked his head curiously. A question entered his eyes.

As he walked toward her, he glanced sharply to the desk and the papers laid out on it. “Did you want something, Diane?”

She shook her head and backed up against the window. Perhaps she could just slip the book behind the drapes, onto the sill. . . .

“What do you have there, darling?”

“Have where?”

“Behind your back.”

“Nothing. I merely had not been in this room much and thought I’d see what it was like. If I shouldn’t have come in, I am sorry.”

“You can come in. I am just wondering why you look as if you have been found stealing.” He caressed down her two arms. All the way down, to her hands behind her back. He pried the book away.

Suddenly he was holding it, right in front of her.

He looked at the book, and then at her. “It appears that you have decided it has some value after all.”

“The plates are somewhat artistic. There is a virtuosity in the use of the gravure.” It did not sound as objective as she wanted. In fact, she heard her voice squeak.

“Ah. So you are studying this to improve your appreciation of artistic technique.”

“It is a subject often discussed at dinners and such.”

“Art is not only about technique, of course, but also content. Have you found the content shown in here shocking or interesting?”

She swallowed hard. “A little of both, I suppose.”

He strolled over to the desk and picked up two scraps of paper. Opening the book, he paged past leaves, stuck the scraps in front of some, and came back to her. “Why don’t you decide if you find those more interesting than shocking.”

He tipped the book with its marked pages toward her. She wondered if it would be a mistake to take it. He smiled that private smile, and warm amusement lit his eyes.

He was teasing her. Daring her. But she sensed that he wanted her to take it. He would not mind if she found some of it more interesting than shocking.

She snatched the book and, with what she hoped was a sophisticated expression, flipped to the first scrap of paper.

Well, now, that one wasn’t all
that
shocking. In fact, there had been times when they made love when she had wondered if he would do that.

Smug now, she flipped to the next one. It was farther along in the book, on plate XVI. She contemplated the image. It wasn’t entirely clear what the engraving portrayed.

She turned the plate this way and that, puzzling over it. Surely the man was not—

“What is he doing?”

“Kissing her.”

“Oh.” The image suddenly made shocking sense. “It seems an odd place to kiss someone.”

“It is a very special kiss.”

“I can’t imagine the man likes it much.”

“I think he does. Perhaps more than the woman does.”

She nervously fingered the paper scrap marking the plate. “Do you intend to kiss me like that some night?”

“Yes. Unless you forbid it.”

She wondered if she would.

She opened the book again. Her initial astonishment had worn off, but it still seemed a very odd thing to do. “Can I decide later?”

“Nothing will ever happen between us that you do not want.”

Her thumb slid off the edge of the page and the plate flipped. The next image was somewhat similar but also more complicated. “Look here. The woman is kissing the man too.”

He angled his head to see the picture. “So she is.”

“But you did not mark that one.”

He did not reply to that.

“I suppose that means that you found it more shocking than interesting.”

Silence.

“Don’t men enjoy being kissed like that?”

He just looked at her.

“You are very selective in which parts of this book you want me to consider, Daniel.” She tapped the binding’s edge against his chest in a scolding manner. “I am supposed to allow you to give me peculiar kisses, but you are spared such things. Perhaps
I
want to kiss
you
in a special way too. What would you think about that?”

“I expect that I could be convinced to allow it.”

“I should hope so. After all, if there are going to be odd doings in that bed, it seems to me that you should be subjected to them as much as I.”

“You are absolutely right. I stand corrected.” He took the book, tore the second marker in half and placed one half at plate XVII. “Actually, should you ever decide to subject me to this, I think . . .”

“You think what?”

“I think that I would probably buy you a diamond necklace the next day.”

Diane sat near the window, watching for the signs of Daniel’s return. The lamps in the street threw halos of eerie light into the night, and the few passing carriages and horses appeared and disappeared as they moved from one to the next. She did not know where he had gone tonight, but he had said he would not be too late returning. She had foregone a visit to the theater in order to be here when he got back.

Finally she spotted him. He was just a shadow down the street, but she knew it was him because the rider wore no hat.

Biting her lip, she left the sitting room and went to her chamber. She let the maid remove her dress and stays and then sent her away.

Once alone, she went to her wardrobe, opened a drawer, and withdrew the little red book.

She turned to the first plate that Daniel had marked. She had examined it several times since the afternoon. At some point, she did not know when, it had begun to be much more interesting than shocking.

It really did not depict anything odd. A little different, but hardly debauchery.

Taking one last look at the plate for reference, she put it back in her drawer. She began to blow out the candles, then paused. There had been a few candles lit in the picture.

She removed her chemise. Wearing only her hose, she climbed onto the bed. She pushed all the pillows away, except one big one. She knelt with it in front of her, and then lay down so that it formed a mound beneath her hips and raised her bottom on a little hill. She reviewed the engraving in her mind, and parted her legs.

It felt very wicked lying like this.

Sounds in the next chamber heralded Daniel’s presence. She listened to his movements as he undressed, and to the low mumble of his conversation with his valet. Just hearing him and expecting his arrival excited her.

So did her position. She was surprised at how arousing it was. The anticipation and vulnerability were incredibly erotic.

The mumbling stopped. The movements grew fewer. She heard steps outside the door that joined her chamber with his dressing room.

Daniel paused at the adjoining door and contemplated sleeping in his own bed tonight. His mood had turned dark and edgy. The memories were back all the time now. Every time he thought of Tyndale, or saw Jeanette, they would swarm into his head, ugly images that froze his blood.

Diane deserved better. He did not want to bring this to her. He did not want to learn that even she could not defeat it.

He really should not go.

He opened the door anyway.

Candles still burned. Normally she snuffed them on going to bed, so there would not be a risk of fire later in the night.

The soft glow illuminated the chamber with faint, mysterious light. He entered, and saw her.

She lay on the bed in an erotic pose. He realized it was the one in the book. Hose still clad her legs up to her thighs, but she wore nothing else. Her naked back dipped to the base of her spine and then curved up to the erotic swells of her raised bottom.

He stood behind her, entranced by the inviting, abandoned image of her waiting for him. Hunger ripped through him, and his mood and her submissive pose gave it a savage strength.

He removed his robe. “You must have seen into my mind tonight.”

“I decided it was not so shocking.”

He could see the side of her face where it rested on her joined hands. “Look at me, Diane.”

She raised her head and looked back, down her body. The lights in her eyes were unmistakable. Surprise at the excitement and anticipation made her expression as inviting as her pose.

He climbed onto the bed and knelt over her. He kissed down her spine. “Have you been waiting for me long?”

“Not too long.”

“Does it arouse you, being like this?”

She rested her head back on her hands, and nodded.

He knelt behind her and caressed her bottom with both his hands. Her back dipped and her hips rose in response. She bit her lower lip.

“Are you already wet?” He could tell that she was, and was glad for it. His mood would not tolerate long loveplay now. He wanted passion to burn away everything else that owned his soul tonight.

She nodded again.

“Good. Because I want you now, at once.” He entered her.

Raw pleasure took over, obscuring everything just as he had hoped. Only her velvet hold on him existed.

“You are lost in your head,” Diane said.

Through the open drapes he could see a bright moon in the dark sky. A gentle breeze cooled the sweat glossing their skin.

“It took me a long time to realize what it means when you get like this. Your mind is a world away, isn’t it?”

A world away. A lifetime away. She was right, and he resented the way it had claimed him again. “I am sorry.”

“I don’t mind. I am sure that your business affairs must preoccupy you. I know that I can’t have all of you all of the time.”

He kissed her crown and drew her closer. She tucked herself against him with her head on his chest and her arm embracing his torso.

He thought of the day’s meeting with Tyndale. He should have refused the offer to get involved in that scheme. He should have demanded the money and been satisfied with the small victory. Instead, he had not been able to resist the chance to thoroughly bring the man down.

He felt like a victim of his own game. He had spent years seducing men with prizes that appealed to their greatest weakness. Today, without intending to, one of those men may have done the same thing to him.

We have much in common, I think.

Diane’s pale shoulder peeked through her flowing tresses. He watched his hand move over it, feeling her luminous skin. He did not risk normal ruin in succumbing to temptation today. Not financial disaster. The real danger lay here, in this embrace. The real loss might be the contentment he had now with this wife, and the freedom his spirit felt when he was truly and completely with her.

There are things I need to tell you. Things that you should hear from me and not someone else.
The words were in his chest, then in his throat. They would go no farther, however. She would never forgive him once she knew.