To Seduce a Bride (3 page)

He lay there, looking up at her. Leaning over him, Lily froze at the expression on his face. He had gone quite still, but there was a soft fire in his eyes that made her heart beat faster.

“I am sorry,” she repeated, suddenly breathless.

“I am not.”

His fingers closing gently around the tiny black paws, he managed to free his cravat and set the kitten in the straw beside him. Immediately it bounded off toward the box, and the gray went scrambling after its littermate.

Even so, Lily couldn't look away from Lord Claybourne. When he reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape, her breathing faltered altogether. Then shockingly, he drew her mouth down to meet his in a featherlight contact.

She was unprepared for the rush of sensation that shot through her at the unexpected caress; his lips were warm and firm yet enticingly soft at the same time—and much too tempting.

Stifling a gasp, Lily pressed her palms against his chest and lifted her reeling head. “W-why did you do that?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

“I wanted to see if your lips were as inviting as they look.”

His reply was not what she expected. “And were they?”

“More so.”

Lily stared down at him, unable to move. Her gaze was riveted on his face. It was a strong face, arresting and beautiful in the muted glow of lamplight. He had a beautiful mouth also, even though she hadn't let herself acknowledge it before. His lips were chiseled and generous, and they curved now in a faint smile as he returned her regard.

“I expect you have no idea what you are missing, sweetheart. Passion between a man and a woman can be quite remarkable.”

Lily cleared her suddenly dry throat, fighting her enchanted stupor. “Even so, I don't care to have anything to do with passion.”

“What do you know about it? Have you ever even been properly kissed?”

Her brow furrowed cautiously. “What do you mean by ‘properly'?”

His quiet chuckle was soft, husky, as he drew her face down to his again. “If you have to ask, the answer must be no. I think we should rectify the deficiency at once….”

As the warm mist of his breath caressed her mouth, Lily braced herself for the renewed shock, but when his lips began to play over hers with exquisite pressure, she felt her resistance melting.

The effect of his kiss was spellbinding. The heady sensation he roused made her light-headed and giddy, much like the effect of the champagne.

When he left off this time, he reached up and stroked her cheek with a finger. “Did you find that pleasurable, sweeting?”

She couldn't utter a denial for it would be a lie. His kiss had left her breathless and dazed, and she felt a strange quivering between her thighs, a restless ache low and deep in her feminine center. “Y-yes.”

“You sound unsure.”

“It was…quite pleasant.”

His mouth curved wryly. “Merely pleasant? I think I should be insulted.”

“You know you needn't be. You are said to be a devil with the ladies, and you have countless conquests—” She paused, shaking her head in a futile effort to clear it. “At least now I can understand why everyone says women adore you.”

“Who says so?”

“Fanny.”

“Fanny Irwin? Ah yes, I recall your sister Arabella mentioning that you were childhood friends with Miss Irwin.”

Fanny was one of the most sought-after courtesans in London. But as one of their dearest friends, she had attended Arabella's wedding celebrations today, much to the dismay of the ton's high sticklers.

Lily desperately wished Fanny were here now to advise her. How had she gotten herself into such a fix? What was she doing here in a secluded loft with this utterly beguiling stranger? Somehow she was sprawled all over Lord Claybourne, pressed against his hard, muscular body. Warmth radiated up from his chest, infusing her breasts with a delicious heaviness.

And that was
before
he raised a finger to the hollow of her throat and lightly stroked. “I think I should demonstrate.”

“Demonstrate what?” she asked unsteadily.

His eyes smiled into hers. “The kind of pleasure a man can give a woman.”

Her heart started thudding harder as he made good on his declaration. His hand cupping the back of her head, he drew her close again…yet this time his kiss held an even more delectable pressure.
This
kiss was slow and erotic and extremely thorough; parting her lips, his tongue slid into her mouth, creating an intense yearning inside her that only added to her light-headedness.

Lily fought the powerful urges in her body. Her head was still spinning from the champagne, but that didn't explain her overwhelming feelings of desire or her deplorable attraction to the seductive marquess.

She couldn't resist letting him continue, though. Not when he was assailing her mouth with such throat-stopping languor…molding, tasting, teasing. All her senses felt assaulted as his tongue stroked provocatively against hers, tangling in a sensual dance.

With a sound between a sigh and a whimper, Lily surrendered.

In response, his kiss only deepened.

Helplessly she raised her hand to his sun-streaked brown hair, which was amazingly thick and silky. His own hand cradled her throat, then slid lower to where the square decolletage of her evening gown exposed a generous amount of bare skin.

When his knuckles skimmed the upper swells of her breasts, Lily tried to draw in a shaky breath of air. But he kept on kissing her, arousing with silky strokes of his tongue, slowly driving, deliciously plundering.

She was achingly aware when he shifted beneath her, for one of his knees separated hers. Through her skirts she felt the pressure of his sinewed thigh against her femininity. At the same time his hand moved lower to lightly cup her breast.

Lily moaned at the feverish surge of pleasure that sensuous caress engendered. She felt overwhelmed with sensation, and when his fingertips discovered her nipple beneath her bodice, fire streaked through her body, flooding her veins with shuddering heat.

She had never felt anything like this captivating man's erotic assault on her senses. He was driving her mad with his caresses, encouraging her response, coaxing her, stirring the wildness that had always clamored in her blood.

Yet it was his tenderness that stunned her most. He knew his own strength, knew how to use it. He could be gentle, tender, that was evident. Moments earlier, the two kittens had swarmed over him, mewling and purring, disarming the caution that she had learned long ago, when she was sixteen.

That should have been a warning, Lily knew. Those tiny creatures sensed no danger with him, which made him infinitely dangerous to
her
….

Merciful heaven, what was she
doing
? She had to end this now, a desperate voice protested in her head. She couldn't let it continue.

Suddenly pushing against his chest, Lily tore her mouth away from his magical one and sat up. Her breath was coming in rapid bursts while her pulse raced wildly.

“That was quite a…demonstration, my lord,” she murmured shakily, forcing a lightness to her tone. “But I imagine you were aided by the effects of the champagne.” She lifted a hand to her temple. “I should never have drunk so much. I didn't know I would have to defend myself against you.”

He didn't reply at once to her complaint. Instead his gaze was fixed on her, measuring, as he slowly pushed himself up on one elbow.

Lily had to look away from his penetrating regard. She still felt dazed, and their passionate bout of kissing had left her yearning for more—devil take him. She had to leave. She didn't trust herself to be alone with Lord Claybourne any longer.

Just then she heard a distant commotion out in the stableyard—the sound of carriages being readied, she realized. Some of the wedding guests would be leaving the ball early to return to London, a half dozen miles away.

“I must go,” Lily said quickly, relieved to have an excuse to escape.

It was a moment before he spoke. “Can you make it safely down the ladder?”

“I…think so. I am almost sober now.”

He corralled the two kittens and deposited them gently back with their mother and sibling. As they scurried down hungrily to root for their dinner, Lily eased her way toward the top of the ladder.

But Lord Claybourne wasn't finished with her, it seemed.

“Wait a moment. You have straw in your hair. You can't return to the ball looking as if you've been trysting in a stable.”

Lily shook her head as he moved closer. “It doesn't matter. I am not returning to the ball. I am driving home with my friend, Miss Tess Blanchard, shortly. My sister Roslyn and I mean to spend the night at her house so as to give the newlyweds privacy.”

“But you don't want Miss Blanchard to suspect you have been kissing me, do you?”

“Well…no.”

“Then keep still while I play lady's maid.”

Despite her reluctance, Lily obeyed as he plucked the straw from her upswept coiffure. She could feel his fingers in her hair like a soft caress, could feel his gaze lingering on her face.

“I had best hurry,” she said as soon as he was done. “Tess will be waiting for me.”

He put a hand on her arm. “Allow me to go first in case I must break your fall. I don't want you injuring yourself.”

She couldn't argue with that, either, blast him. “Thank you, my lord,” Lily murmured, allowing him to move past her.

He climbed down first, pausing partway to wait for her. Lily followed, lowering her feet to the ladder and holding tightly as she turned around to descend backward.

She made it down several steps, but then somehow her foot missed a rung. It was fortunate that Claybourne was below her, for when she slipped, his hand reached up and caught her hip to steady her. Her gasp, however, was due more to his touch on her body than her fear of falling.

“Easy,” he murmured, guiding her foot back to the ladder.

The warm feel of his fingers as they wrapped around her ankle unsettled her even further. Unnerved by the intimacy, Lily bit her lip and descended the final rungs as quickly as possible.

“Th-thank you,” she repeated as she reached the solid ground of the stable floor.

She remained there a moment, swaying a bit dizzily and trying to regain her composure. She was still shaken by his seductive kisses and eager to pretend that nothing had happened between them.

She expected Lord Claybourne to move away, yet he stood close behind her, his hands spanning her waist. His body felt hot and hard against her back, reminding her of his alluring caresses.

Her breath caught in her throat when he stepped even closer and nestled her buttocks against his groin.

Lily shivered. She knew what that male hardness meant. He was aroused from their brazen intimacy.

She was still keenly aroused as well, she admitted. Her body tingled all over, while the warm yearning in her feminine center continued to throb.

“You may release me, my lord,” she whispered hoarsely. “I am quite safe now.”

He gave a low, rough chuckle. “You truly think you are safe?”

Her throat went dry. “Please, Lord Claybourne…”

“Please what, Lily?” He spoke her name in a husky murmur as he bent his head to nuzzle her ear.

Her head jerked in alarm. “You cannot kiss me again!” she exclaimed, her voice high and breathless.

His exhalation was like a sigh. “I know. I would like nothing more than to climb back up there with you and spend the rest of the night showing you pleasure you've never dreamed of. But it wouldn't be honorable of me to take advantage of you in this weakened state…and Marcus would have my head on a platter if I tried.”

Lily wasn't certain Marcus would view his role as her protector quite so fiercely. He had never wanted to be saddled with responsibility for the three penniless Loring sisters, and he'd only been their guardian for a few months, since becoming the new Earl of Danvers. Moreover, Marcus no longer technically held the office of guardian now, since he had granted his three wards their legal and financial freedom when Arabella won her wager with him. Yet Lily thought it wiser not to express her doubts to Lord Claybourne.

“So he would,” she agreed unevenly.

Finally, after another moment, Claybourne stepped away from her, clearing a path to the stable door.

Grateful to be free, Lily let out the breath she'd been holding and quickly turned away from him. Without looking at him again, she hurried to the door. But then she came to an abrupt halt when she recalled what had driven her to the stable in the first place.

With reluctance, Lily glanced back over her shoulder, meeting his lordship's darkly glimmering eyes. “You must promise me you won't tell Lady Freemantle that I kissed you. If she knew, she would be planning our wedding.”

His expression was enigmatic, unreadable, even in the bright glow of latern light. And he hesitated far longer than expected before replying. “Very well, I won't tell her.”

Managing a faint smile, Lily picked up her skirts and fled, chiding herself all the way back to the Hall. She should never have let Lord Claybourne kiss her, she knew that now. Not when he was so dangerous to her willpower.

But from now on, Lily vowed earnestly, she would make a concerted effort to avoid him.

She had no choice. For the first time in her life she had met a man who might prove to be irresistible. The wisest thing she could do now was to keep far, far away from the handsome, alluring, seductive Marquess of Claybourne.

Chapter Two

I would be forever grateful if you would allow me to take refuge in your boardinghouse, Fanny. I do not wish Lord Claybourne to find me.

—Lily Loring to Fanny Irwin

After her departure, Heath remained in the stable for quite some time, waiting for his blood to cool before he could return to the ballroom. Sporting a raging arousal when he was wearing satin evening breeches would no doubt appall the refined sensibilities of the wedding guests.

Heath's mouth curled in rueful amusement at the image, yet his smile soon faded.

He hadn't meant to let things go so far with Lilian Loring. Before she'd stopped him, he had been in serious danger of compromising her. But he'd been seduced by the tempting fire of her. Now he could only blame himself if the forbidden indulgence had left him hot and painfully hard.

His attraction wasn't the least surprising, Heath mused, even though he'd only met Lily this morning. For several months now his interest had been piqued by reports of the youngest Loring sister. He hadn't been put off by Marcus's accounts of her being a spitfire and a hellion. On the contrary. His usual pursuits had seemed so deadly dull of late that when he'd finally encountered the spirited, unconventional Lily, his interest had immediately been sparked.

Marcus was right; she was a lively beauty. She was certainly unique. And Heath had found himself unexpectedly enchanted.

Finally considering it safe enough, he left the stable, yet his thoughts were still centered on Lilian Loring as he crossed the yard and headed toward the Danvers Hall manor house.

She was as captivating as her elder sisters but wholly different. Her bold dark eyes and rich, dark-chestnut hair, in addition to her coltish grace, gave Lily a vividness that made her seem vibrant and alive.

She had marvelous eyes, Heath thought as he aimed for the rear terrace that flanked the ballroom. They were lustrous and expressive; warm and laughing one minute, indignant and defiant the next, heavy and slumberous when she was aroused.

She had a mouth like sin, as well. And he knew she would have a luscious body beneath that properly fashionable ball gown…

At the sudden memory of exploring her soft warm flesh with his searching fingertips, Heath felt a fresh rush of desire.

“Blast it, man,” he swore at himself as he mounted the terrace steps. “You'd best bridle your lust before you do something even more inappropriate with her.”

He sure as the devil couldn't deny wanting Lily, though.

Yet admittedly, one of her prime attractions was her laughter. He'd first heard it this morning while waiting at the church with Marcus and Drew for the wedding party to arrive.

When she drove up in the open barouche with her sisters, her laughter had been warm and tender. Later, at the wedding breakfast, it was lilting and musical during her animated conversation with her friends, Fanny Irwin and Miss Tess Blanchard. And then a short while ago, husky and delighted when she was talking to the kittens.

Laughter was important to him. It had been a big part of his childhood—an essential part, the best part—before his mother died when he was ten. His friends, Marcus and Drew, had supplied the laughter since then, all during his boyhood when they'd attended Eton and then Oxford together, and for the past decade as adults. But now that Marcus had taken a wife, that would change to a significant extent—

Cutting off that dark thought, Heath returned to ruminating about Lily Loring as he crossed the terrace. It was only natural that he enjoyed her laughter. But he also liked her forthrightness.

In his experience such honesty was unusual when dealing with females of any stamp. After all the mincing and coy flirtations he'd been subjected to from grasping debutantes over the years, her frankness was profoundly refreshing.

Lily's resistance to him, however, was wholly unexpected. He was not at all accustomed to female indifference. Bold seductions and relentless pursuit were the usual mode. As one of London's most eligible aristocrats, Heath had been the target of countless scheming husband-hunters for well over a decade.

Surprisingly, his disinterest in marriage hadn't stopped women from falling in love with him. Instead, they flocked to him, in large part because he knew how to satisfy their desires….

Of necessity Heath's musings were brought to a halt when he entered the ballroom through one of the rear French doors, the same one he'd exited a half hour before. Almost at once a feminine voice called his name.

To his surprise, he saw Fanny Irwin approaching, as if she had been waiting for his reappearance.

Her expression did not look happy. “My Lord Claybourne,” Fanny said in a low voice that held a note of urgency. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to give me a moment of your time?”

“Of course, Miss Irwin—” he started to say when she cut him off.

“In
private,
my lord, if you don't mind.”

Although puzzled by her request, Heath had no objection to following her behind a bank of potted palms. He knew from Marcus that Fanny had been the Loring sisters' close neighbor and dearest friend in Hampshire during their childhood. He also knew that she was once a respectable young lady who had left home at sixteen to become one of London's most renowned courtesans. Her success now even rivaled the most fashionable Cyprian of them all, Harriet Wilson. Heath had never patronized Fanny, although he'd seen her at various entertainments they both attended.

The raven-haired, lush-figured Fanny was witty, beautiful, stimulating, and perceptive, and reportedly expert at satisfying her lovers in bed. In short, the ideal mistress.

At the moment, however, there was no sign of her usual sultry affability. Instead, she was surveying him with grave concern.

“I saw you follow Lily from the ballroom, my lord. You cannot deny it.”

His brows drew together as he contemplated what he should say in answer. “Very well, I won't deny it, Miss Irwin. But is that a crime?”

“It would be if you seduced her.”

Heath felt his gaze sharpen defensively. “My encounter with Miss Loring is a private affair, but you may be assured, I did not seduce her.”

“No?” Fanny said acerbically. “It is obvious that you have been employing your usual seductive methods on
someone.
Your hair is tousled and flaked with straw, as if you've just been enjoying a roll in the hay with a farm milkmaid.”

She reached up to pluck at a stray wisp from his hair. “Ordinarily I wouldn't dream of interfering with your conquests, Lord Claybourne, but I am Lily's friend, and I cannot sit idly by while you exploit her for your sport.”

Heath took a slow breath, controlling his impatience. “I admire your concern for your friend, Miss Irwin, but you have nothing to worry about from me.”

“How can I possibly trust your assurances?”

It rankled that she would question his word, yet realizing that Fanny was genuinely troubled, Heath decided to make allowances.

“What would you say if I told you I had just promised Danvers to keep an eye on Miss Loring while he was away on his wedding trip for the next month?”

That much was certainly true, Heath thought. A short while ago, when he and Drew had said farewell to Marcus and reluctantly drunk a toast to the demise of his bachelorhood, Marcus had coerced them into agreeing to look after the two younger sisters while he was gone.

But Fanny did not seem reassured. “
This
is how you keep an eye on her?” she responded, her tone a bit caustic. “Trysting with Lily in a stable?”

“We weren't seen together, if it is any consolation.”

“But someone could have discovered you. With your reputation, just being alone with Lily could give rise to gossip. Given their family history, she is more vulnerable than the usual lady of quality. She and her sisters are finally moving beyond the past scandals now that Lord Danvers has made such a concerted effort to reinstate them into society. But you could so easily ruin her.”

“I certainly don't intend to ruin her.”

“Then what
are
your intentions toward Lily, my lord?”

It was an impertinent question at the very least. And Heath didn't have an immediate answer, since he wasn't certain himself what his intentions were toward Lily. Before tonight, he would have said
none,
but after kissing her, holding her…

Admit it, man, you don't want to give her up.
The thought came unbidden and made Heath frown.

When he remained silent, his gaze arrested as he distantly regarded the bank of palms, Fanny continued in a softer, more pleading tone. “You cannot seduce her, my lord. There would be no hope for her then. If you were to compromise her, her only recourse from disgrace would be marriage. And I know Lily quite well. She would never agree to marry you—or anyone else, for that matter.”

Slowly he glanced back at Fanny. “What if I said my intentions were entirely honorable?”

Fanny looked startled at that. “Honorable?
You
? You are the worst heartbreaker in England, Lord Claybourne. You aren't the least interested in matrimony…
are
you?”

At her obvious shock, Heath's mouth twisted with wry humor. It was true that he had a reputation for breaking hearts, although he wasn't solely to blame for the fact that any number of women had fallen in love with him while he'd kept his heart whole. Although he loved the fair sex in general and delighted in their attentions, he'd never met the woman who could tame him and cause him to willingly relinquish his cherished freedom to settle down in staid matrimony.

But he had never encountered any woman like Lily, either.

“I am not suggesting that I propose this evening,” Heath said slowly, testing the prospect in his mind, “but if I were courting her officially, there would be little gossip or risk of scandal.”

“I suppose not. But you cannot honestly be thinking of marrying Lily.”

“She might make me a good marchioness.”

Fanny's laugh was uncertain. “She has the birth and the breeding, true, but you are forgetting one crucial detail. There is no possible way Lily would ever allow you close enough to court her. Not considering her fervent opinions about men and marriage.”

Heath couldn't help but smile as he remembered Lily's adamant declaration about her aversion to matrimony. “Her notions
are
rather prickly. I discovered that just on our brief acquaintance.”

“Indeed.” Fanny shook her head firmly. “No, my lord. You should just abandon the whole absurd idea.” Her gaze measured him. “I doubt you will mourn the loss, however. You have countless love-smitten females to pick from. You should choose one of them.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But regrettably, I am not interested in any of them.”

Fanny's gaze narrowed. “I hope you are not planning to pursue Lily simply because you relish a challenge.”

He couldn't deny that the challenge greatly appealed to him. Among his boyhood friends, Heath had been the most adventurous and daring, the most willing to court danger. His need for thrills and excitement had led the three of them into escapades and scrapes more times than he could count. But the challenge Lily presented was not her major allure.

“That is only part of it,” he replied honestly to Fanny. “My interest in her is due much more to her uniqueness. I find her novelty refreshing.”

“I can see why someone so unconventional as Lily would intrigue you,” Fanny said after a moment. “She has no compunction about thumbing her nose at society's strictures regarding the proper behavior of genteel young ladies. Indeed, she often behaves more like a man—she excels at any kind of physical activity such as riding and driving and archery. Compared to her sisters, Lily is the most passionate and expressive. However…”—Fanny's voice dropped and became earnest—“…she is also the most sensitive. Of the three of them, Lily feels the most deeply. She was terribly hurt when her mother abandoned them to follow her heart, heedless of the scandal that ruined their futures. And Lily's bitterness toward men is deeply rooted in the past, in the way her father treated her mother.”

He had sensed that vulnerability in her, Heath realized, feeling an odd tug at his heart. The emotion that stirred in him was not one he usually felt for young ladies. It wasn't pity, exactly. It was more tenderness. Along with an undeniable lust that he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

Fanny broke into his thoughts again. “I would imagine Lily is far more to your tastes than the typical debutante—possibly enough to consider wooing. But are you truly serious about matrimony, my lord?”

“A woman like that might induce me to marry,” he said slowly.

Fanny regarded him with worry. “Perhaps so, but I pray you…don't even think about pursuing her unless you are completely sincere about following through.”