CHAPTER FIVE
“You read my letter,” Miss Raleigh said the moment they reached the path that meandered toward the Thames estuary.
Hadrian had anticipated this conversation but not how she would broach the subject. She should be outraged or at the least disconcerted. Instead, she merely offered him that same half-smile...but it wasn’t reflected anymore in her eyes, which were cool and almost hard.
Good, because when she warmed up, he responded like a fool.
“Why did you read it?” she asked.
“You seemed upset, and I wished to know why.” Ruefully, he added, “Curiosity is my besetting sin.”
“It overrides good manners? Reading another’s private correspondence is hardly the mark of a gentleman.” She showed no anger, merely disdain.
“I don’t gamble, I don’t drink to excess, and I rarely fornicate. Surely I can be allowed this one small sin.”
“You will have to take that up with your Maker,” she said. “Why did you pretend to know of Mr. Pilgrim?”
“To help you out,” he answered promptly.
She gave a tiny snort. “That’s flummery, Lord Hadrian.”
“Not at all. If I understand correctly, you decided to stay a few more days because you are obliged to help him with some undisclosed task.”
She gave the same sensual shrug as yesterday, and once again it spoke to his libido. Perhaps he should find himself a mistress—although it was hard to imagine any woman as appealing as Lettice.
She said nothing. Did she realize that her unwillingness to speak about it made her secret all the more intriguing?
“Therefore the sooner he gets here, the sooner you can help him, and the sooner you can leave,” Hadrian said.
“A glib explanation.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure your curiosity drives you far more than any kindness to me.”
No, he really did want to do her a kindness, although his motives for that became more confusing by the minute. “Perhaps half and half.”
“And to what should I attribute your unexpected impertinence to your father this morning?” she asked.
He grinned. “It’s fun to annoy him. May I assume that was your motive in suddenly turning flirtatious?”
She laughed–a deep, rich chuckle that went straight to his loins. “You may. But if he sends me packing, I shall lose nothing. Surely you risk far more by antagonizing him.”
“It would take more than a little flirtation to make him throw me out. Disowning one son made him appear stern and upright. Disowning a second would make him seem a fool.”
“Particularly a son with such a pristine reputation,” she said with that faint smile. “But of course no lack of manly vigor.”
Once again, his libido took notice, but he mustn’t allow himself to be disconcerted. “No, I am merely discreet. My father’s views on manliness are–” He stopped himself; he shouldn’t discuss his father with this woman he hardly knew, no matter how much he wanted to.
Why did he want to? It couldn’t be because of this unexpected attraction. He’d had to stop himself from discussing his parents with her yesterday too, and that was before she’d become flirtatious. He was in the habit of keeping his feelings to himself, but he was comfortable talking to her. He enjoyed it very much. How strange and unexpected.
“Wild oats followed by marriage, with discreet liaisons thereafter,” she said. “It’s not an uncommon attitude.”
“No,” he said, “but why should everyone should be obliged to follow the same path? He–” Hadrian stopped himself again. “I shouldn’t discuss him.”
“How very proper you are,” she said. “In that way, you are your father’s son.”
“No, I’m not,” he retorted.
“No?” she asked, again with that faint, provocative smile.
He’d done his best to be proper—not a hypocrite like his father, but truly proper—but now, damn the woman, he would poke right back. “To return to your letter,” he said, “why was it signed with a phallic symbol?”
~ * ~
She felt herself pale; she sensed his immediate regret at upsetting her and his equally quick decision not to apologize and withdraw his impertinent question.
He’d taken offense at being compared to his father, when of course he was exactly like the marquis in that he was plotting her ruin. Worse perhaps, because he pretended to be open, well-intentioned, and sincere…
If she hadn’t overheard that conversation, she would be sure he was sincere.
“If I say I don’t know what you’re talking about, will you believe me?” she asked.
“Not a chance,” he said.
“I thought not.” She sighed. “In that case, I shan’t answer you. It’s none of your business.”
“But my curiosity is aroused,” he said. “Is it perhaps…the symbol of a secret society?”
Far too close to the truth. She forced a laugh. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“It reminds me of something I’ve seen before, although I can’t recall where. Perhaps in the archives.”
“Unlikely.” And yet she shouldn’t be surprised. That Lord Valiant was an incubus meant there had probably been others amongst his ancestors, since the tendency ran in families. The symbol of the incubi wasn’t the same as that of the succubi, and versions of both varied, but the erect penis was an obvious link. Those earlier incubi and succubi should have destroyed the messages—that was one of the rules.
“I’ve been digging through them ever since I was a boy, so it’s likely I saw something years ago but didn’t record it. Since my father’s purpose in having me go through the archives is to glorify the family, he wants me to burn anything to our discredit.” He sniffed fastidiously. “Involvement in a secret society based on carnal activities would certainly qualify.”
She clamped her mouth shut on a retort. He made the gifts of the incubi and succubi sound vile and degrading. Which they were at times, but certainly not always. Succubi and incubi had been instrumental in exposing many traitors and spies, both in England and on the Continent. Not only that, they could bring great pleasure, even healing. Just last Christmas, Lord Valiant and his wife Lucie, a succubus, had worked to bring another couple together, largely through erotic dreams.
“Fortunately, my father never looks at the archives, so he has no idea what they really contain,” Lord Hadrian said. “I have never burned anything I found there. Archives must be preserved, not destroyed according to whim.”
Ordinarily she would agree with him, but these particular archives must not come to light. She dare not protest nor let her consternation show. He had guessed most of it already, and she mustn’t give him reason to guess more. She raised languid brows. “How fascinating, but your family’s archives have nothing to do with my correspondence.”
“No?”
He was giving her a taste of her own medicine, but she didn’t have to take it. “No, how could they?” She stopped and turned. “Since it’s not the season to harvest sea holly and we both know it, let’s go back to the house.”
“Very well,” he said. “I’m eager to get to the archives. If you won’t assuage my curiosity, they will.”
She couldn’t stop him from going through the archives, but she made a point of watching him for the rest of the day. It was her duty to find any missives signed with phallic symbols and burn them.
She thought he might ask her more questions, which she dreaded, or show her one of his finds, but he did neither. Instead, he went about his work, plied her with tea and macaroons, and was once again his polite, civilized self. This seemed strange considering his mission to seduce her, but perhaps he had changed his mind or was playing an even deeper game than at first.
He was certainly more perceptive than she’d thought. She wished he weren’t so curious, but she couldn’t fault him for it. She wished she didn’t want to like him, but she couldn’t help herself. The false Lord Hadrian was a charming man in whose honesty and sincerity she foolishly longed to believe.
Ah, well—only a few more days and she would never have to see him again.
In the meantime, a little more sensual torment was in order. She would send another dream. Lord Hadrian would respond to it, flirt with her some more, enrage his father further, and end up frustrated when Lettice gave him the cold shoulder.
Eventually, everyone went up to bed. Once Lord Hadrian had had enough time to fall asleep, she closed her eyes and conjured up an erotic dream more powerful and explicit than the night before. She visualized a blatant invitation, bared breasts and a touch of thigh, her hands seeking the fall in his breeches, a hint of desperation in the way she caressed his erect member. Her legs parted, pleading for his touch.
A torrent of desire washed over her as she let the dream fly. Aghast, she opened her eyes. What was wrong with her? She never lost control, certainly never became aroused. She never let a dream approach the point of penetration either, for fear it would turn sour. Protecting her virginity at all costs for so long now made her panic at the thought of losing it, even in her imagination. No man enjoyed an erotic dream where the seductress turned into a clawing, screaming fury.
Well, perhaps some did. She had known at least one of those.
But Lord Hadrian wasn’t that sort. He would now be busy satisfying himself by dwelling on the images in the erotic dream, and then he would fall asleep again. She would send him another, even more vivid dream in the small hours. With less sleep and too much arousal, he might forget about being curious—and this time, she wouldn’t lose control.
At half-past midnight she lit a single candle and left her bedchamber. She tiptoed through the silent house. Lord Staves had gone to bed, thank heavens, so she needn’t fear overhearing another horrid conversation. The door of the muniment room creaked softly as she opened it. She shut it behind her, her plan already formed. She would first go through the papers on Lord Hadrian’s desk. If she found nothing there, she would go systematically from shelf to shelf, opening whichever boxes weren’t locked, and hope for the best. She moved quickly toward his desk.
A board creaked, a shadow loomed, and Lord Hadrian came out from behind the first row of shelves. “Good evening, Miss Raleigh. Is your curiosity as aroused as mine?”
~ * ~
She jumped, and her candle flickered and almost died. “Must you startle me like that?”
“I couldn’t resist.” His teeth flashed white in the dim light.
“I’m not here out of curiosity, I assure you,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nor could I.” He’d been dropping off to sleep when a blast of lust had hit him so fiercely that he’d had to jump out of bed to shake it off. He didn’t want to want Miss Raleigh. He was entirely certain she didn’t want him either. She was merely toying with him, as she had done with many men—or so the gossip said. He didn’t like to think about that, any more than he liked to imagine she’d done far more than toy with his brother, Valiant. “So I came here to see if I could find the documents your letter reminded me of.”
“In the middle of the night? Surely that is more easily done in daylight.”
“True,” he said, “but I’m awake right now with nothing better to do.”
After a simmering hush of a pause, she said, “Come now. There are much better…things…to do in the dark.”
Not with a woman brandishing a candle like a weapon. Her eyes weren’t those of a seductress. “But I have a feeling,” he said, “that you don’t really wish to do any of those…things.”
There was a silence; he’d surprised her, he thought. Very deliberately, she set the candlestick down on his desk. She stood very close to him. “Whatever makes you think that?”
She smelled lush and inviting and… afraid. He could feel the tension emanating from her, while at the same time her sensuality enveloped him, making him burn. “Do you want me or not?” he asked.
Again a silence, followed by an uncertain laugh. “I don’t know.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He leaned in and kissed her.
~ * ~
It was a kiss like no other. Soft and sweet–no brutal invasion by a thrusting tongue. She sighed and kissed him back, almost as if she was young again and feeling the touch of a man’s lips for the first time.
God help her, she did want him, which was both foolish and absurd. She had learned very early on what men were really like. Hadrian was just a man like others, and what’s more, he was playing games with her, seducing her while pretending to protect her.
She should push away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t bring herself to do anything but kiss him back, on and on and on.
Too soon, he broke the kiss, put his arms around her, and pulled her to him—not to paw and invade, for he simply held her and pressed his lips to her hair. “You’re so lovely. Quite irresistible–and generally I’m good at resisting.”
He seemed to be resisting her very well. Evidently his father’s orders carried far greater weight than her charms. She felt the firm length of his rod through their clothing, but his hands merely rested on her bum, warm and firm—no groping, no frantic attempt to get under her skirts.
If she had followed the mistress’s advice and surrendered her virginity years ago, if she now were a woman of experience, she would give in to her desire. She would entice him further and make him desperate with longing. She would make sure they were caught together in front of many witnesses—a fitting revenge on both Lord Hadrian and his father.
She leaned against him, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest, inhaling his masculine scent, wondering what bedding him would be like. A quiver of raw desire ran through her, and she panicked, pulling quickly away.
He didn’t try to hold her. “What are you afraid of?”
Of desire, and where it leads. But he wouldn’t believe that even if she told him. Far better to resort to familiar tricks. She knew how to work up a man quickly or slowly, depending on his nature, knew how to coax his secrets out before he became upset, angry, perhaps even violent.
Which of those would Lord Hadrian become? Not violent—of that she was almost sure. She didn’t want to find out, and wished once again that she could just leave.
But she couldn’t, so she shook her head and lied. “I’m not afraid.”
“You have nothing to fear from me,” he said. She didn’t relish this response, since it meant he didn’t believe her. He took the candle and from it lit a branch of others. “Let’s look for the documents together,” he added, prosaic and entirely composed. “Follow me.”
So she did, utterly astonished. Was this part of his horrid game, or did he really not intend to push for more? They were completely alone in the middle of the night, so he needn’t fear causing a scandal.
He led her down a rank of shelves, scrutinized the labels on the chests, and handed her the candle. “My memory of that symbol is so vague and buried so deep that I’m looking in areas I haven’t touched for years.” He took down a chest and motioned to her to precede him back to a table.
Why wasn’t he trying to seduce her? More important, how did he know she was afraid? She’d been afraid before—deathly afraid more than once—but none of the other men had noticed.
He pulled out a chair for her and set another for himself. Methodically, he removed the contents of the chest and separated them into stacks. “Here, you take this pile and I’ll try that one. Who knows, there may be more incidences of that same symbol that I didn’t notice before.”
She needed to find the letters and destroy them, not hand them to Lord Hadrian on a platter. She pondered pretending to cooperate, watching him whilst concealing whatever she might find, and knew with certainty that she couldn’t do it. She knew her duty, knew she should dislike him, and yet some part of her refused to cooperate. His warm presence both attracted and frightened her, and she didn’t know which emotion to believe.
Fool, she told herself. Believe the fear. It’s what has kept you safe. She rose. “I’d rather not, thank you. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
Ever polite, he stood as well. “As you wish. I would offer to escort you to your room, but it would never do for us to be seen together.”
“No, it wouldn’t, would it? It might ruin your precious family’s reputation.”
“My family’s reputation can go to the devil,” he said. “It’s yours that concerns me.”
All at once, anger took over. A devious man like Hadrian shouldn’t be able to kiss her so sweetly, shouldn’t be able to make her want him. “No, it’s not. You’re supposed to seduce me. Don’t try to deny it.”
For a long moment he was silent. “What makes you say that?”
“I overheard your conversation with your father last night. You told him I’m skittish.” She infused a sneer into her voice. “You told him you had to warm me up before seducing me.”
He rubbed his hands across his face. “I wish you hadn’t been eavesdropping.”
“‘Tweak her nipples,’ is what your revolting father said. ‘That’s what trollops like.’ Why didn’t you obey him?”
Hadrian groaned. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
She was too upset to sneer anymore, but she managed a glare. “Obviously.”
“Not because of what I said, but because you don’t know why I said it.” He paused. “I tried to spare you the worst of his machinations.” Another pause. “No, that’s not entirely true. I suppose I was really trying to spare myself.”
~ * ~
I’m losing her.
Where had that thought come from? Hadrian didn’t have Lettice and didn’t even want her, so why should he care about losing her? Admittedly he desired her, but that was neither here nor there. This sense of loss was something else entirely.
“Why, don’t you like tweaking nipples?” Her voice overflowed with distaste.
“I haven’t been with a great many women,” he said tentatively, trying to understand what was going on within him, “but those I have known prefer gentle caresses. I think perhaps many men mean well, but don’t realize their own strength.”
“Not those I have known,” she said.
“Then why did you choose them?” Anger exploded inside him. “Why give yourself to one unpleasant man after another? Christ, Miss Raleigh. Some of them were dashed loose screws! Hard, brutal fellows.”
As his anger rose, hers had slowly drained, leaving only despair in her fine, dark eyes. It took all his resistance to keep from twining his hands into the chestnut hair that flowed about her shoulders, his lips from seeking hers once again.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”
She flapped a hand and turned away. “I can’t explain.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” What had gotten into him? He wasn’t usually rude.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to discuss this with you.” She picked up her candle.
He mustn’t lose her—truly mustn’t. “Very well, but I intend to explain myself. My father wanted me to warm you up, so to speak, so you would be ripe and ready to bed one of his grizzled old guests—your sort of man, he said. I was too appalled to admit that part of it to you. It didn’t really matter, seeing as I didn’t intend to obey him.”
She faced him again. “Why didn’t you just tell him no?”
“Because he might have given the task to Gentry instead.”
“And Gentry always does what he’s told?”
“No, he wouldn’t have done it, but he’s not good at pretending to obey.”
Her lip curled. “And you are?”
“For my mother’s sake, I try to keep the peace. She rarely gets to see Valiant, and without my help, she might not see him at all.”
She gazed at him wonderingly. “I thought none of you recognized Lord Valiant’s existence, much less saw him.”
“Officially we don’t, but my mother was heartbroken when my father disowned him. Before he disappeared from sight, he told me how to contact him. I found ways for Mama to see him.”
“You must have been a schoolboy at the time.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Don’t all schoolboys have a devious streak? I thoroughly enjoyed deceiving my father, and how I envied Val! Not only was he out from under Father’s thumb, but he was being trained as a spy, which seemed such an exciting profession—far more fun than conjugating Latin verbs.”
“Fun?” she cried. “In what possible way?”
“I suppose every boy dreams of acts of valor,” Hadrian said.
“And then being scorned for serving one’s country,” she retorted.
“There’s that, of course,” he said. “But Val was already persona non grata, and for him the fun was in being paid to use his talents at seduction.”
“I daresay it was, until they ordered him to seduce a woman—or many women–whom he found unattractive,” Lettice said. Abruptly, as if this topic irritated her, she turned away.
“I expect you’re right,” he admitted. “By what I now know, it’s dirty, dangerous work with damned few rewards. He did receive some financial compensation.”
“How fortunate,” she said coolly, poised to leave, but something about her calm seemed almost frantic.
“And now he’s happily married to a woman he loves,” Hadrian said. “Things have turned out very well for him.” Where had that thought come from? Hadrian wasn’t interested in marriage, so why did that sudden pang feel rather like jealousy? Once again, how strange.
“His wife Lucie is one of my dearest friends,’ she said. “And now I must go.”
He watched as she left—no, as she well-nigh fled–and sat down to go over their conversation. Had he said something to drive her away…or had she?