The Seduction (13 page)

He felt it now.

He wanted to feel the rich silk of her hair. He
wanted to kiss her pale nape where a thin gold chain showed above the neckline
of her smock. He wanted to offer comfort and protection: to hold her, soft and
yielding, cradled like a chick in his hands.

Far too costly! The gold chain no doubt held the
locket for which he had wagered his future. Α few days only remained until
Friday. How fortunate that desire also stirred! Sex fit far more comfortably
than this odd stirring of emotion into his scheme of things.

Would she allow him to kiss away the tears?

Soon.

Ask him to carry her away to the short grass
under the oak tree and lay her down with her blue smock billowing beneath her
long, naked legs?

Soon. Soon.

Her mouth invited his, her skin invited his
hands, as the sweet peas invited the bees.

Hot desire became insistent, urging simple male
need.
Α few more days,
he told himself.
Α few more days!
Now
it was time to reassure her, win her confidence, so that he could press his
advantage when she finally surrendered her guard.

Yet something else still disturbed him. Nothing
he could give name to, but it felt vaguely uncomfortable. Ignoring the odd
feeling, he stood and walked back to the tree to retrieve his coat.

"All the tender life that you protect here
is quite safe," he said. "We are only chance acquaintances, whiling
away a little time - a holiday, if you like, which Ι am able by chance to
provide. Ι certainly hope to amuse you. It has never been my intention to
distress you."

"You don't have the power to distress me,
sir." She had turned her head. He couldn't see her face. "You are as
out of place here as a silk fan in the hands of a cowhand. Far too hideously
exquisite for such humble surroundings as these!"

In spite of the still-warm air, he shrugged into
the coat, carefully arranging the cuffs, and deliberately made his voice
light, teasing. "Then Ι may provide you the merriment of contrasting
my evil town decadence unfavorably with your honest country values. The silk
fan is unquestionably designed only to amuse, for Ι fear it's an absurdity
otherwise."

"Oh, I’ll never believe
that!
"
Her feet moved like a dancer's beneath her worn blue smock. Her face was
set in a bright smile the smile of a courtier, a lady, determined on triumph.
"I’ faith, Ι am tired of chickens, sir. Let us play chess. There you
may indeed entertain me, for this time Ι intend to win."

HE PLAYED Α TEASING GAME, LETTING HER CAST
HER NETS WIDE and breaking them gently. She was concentrating intently, but he
was still winning - she just didn't know it yet. In spite of her suspicions and
her reticence, she was generous: a fine, magnanimous nature, for some reason
buried here in this backwater. Her pleasure every time she almost pinned down
his king was obvious. She seemed able to escape into the moment with the purity
of a child. Had she forgiven him for confronting her with what already lay
between them? Forgotten that he had deliberately brought tears to her eyes?

Obviously she knew she was being played, yet she
was falling directly into his trap. The fox danced and gamboled in the moonlight.
The prey was rapt, until finally thrilled to yield into Reynard's smiling
jaws. Did it matter that the fox just followed his animal nature? On Friday he
would use her for his own ends, then abandon her. He must at least make it a
rapturous, willing surrender.

Alden glanced at her beneath his lashes. It was
hot in the arbor, the air heavy and still. Dying sunlight played harmonies in
her hair, rich reds and browns, like the gleaming pebbles of a stream bed. She
had taken off her smock to reveal a plain workaday dress underneath.

Meshach and Shadrach had settled at his feet. He
dropped a hand occasionally to caress a tabby or orange head. Abednego lay a
little behind him, out of reach, curled up where a twist of grape leaves bent
down from a broken place in the arbor to make a comfortable nest.

With an unconsciously elegant gesture, Juliet ran
one hand around the fichu filling the neckline of her dress, loosening the
fabric from her moist skin. His attention concentrated on the soft whiteness of
her throat, the swell of her breasts. Desire surged, overwhelming, almost as if
he were still a callow youth, at the mercy of his own racing pulse. He forced
himself back to the cool, logical analysis of the chess match and the game of
seduction he had equally coolly begun.

"If you win," he asked as he sacrificed
a bishop, "what would you ask of me?"

"
When
Ι win!"

He replied automatically, disturbed by the
intrusion of such sensual images when they hadn't been invited. "Very
well. When you win."

"I believe Ι shan't ask for anything,
sir. After all, you are empty, nothing! You've never known anything but
pleasure. Will you tell me that isn't true?"

"I am serious when rare occasion warrants,
but Ι am a professional at pleasure."

She laid one hand flat on the table. His
attention riveted there, unable to stop the image of her fingers on his naked
skin. ''And you think Ι should take advantage of that expertise?"

"Of course, ma'am. It's entirely at your
disposal."

"Then Ι admit it's a pleasure to play
chess with you, sir, even though you're going to win this game, too."

Alden leaned back, surprised by the humor in her
voice. "I am?"

She laughed. "Of course! Ι already
cannot recover, can Ι?"

He moved his queen's rook. "Check. No, you
can't."

She touched her king with a fingertip and let the
piece topple. "Then Ι concede the match. However, you might do well
to remember that though you may win each battle, you will never win the
war."

He gave her a deliberate smile. "I’m not
fighting a war, ma'am. I'm pursuing a seduction. Whether Ι succeed or
fail, whatever the outcome, you will be the winner of that."

In a flash of white fur, Abednego hurtled onto
the board, scattering the pieces. Juliet jumped up. The other cats leaped to
chase the pawns, rooks and bishops rolling about on the flagstones under the
table. For a moment it was pure feline chaos.

Juliet burst out laughing, letting him kneel to
retrieve the lost men among the havoc of hunting cats. He glanced at her ankles
- no reason not to enjoy the resulting surge of male hunger. Yet his desire
seemed to have mutated into something mysterious, multilayered. An odd feeling
caught his heart suddenly, an un-nameable feeling: mirth, lust and that strange
surge of tenderness, unexpected and subtler than he could immediately fathom.

Alden sat back on his heels and gazed up at her.
"We may have been wrong to indulge in such wanton talk of foxes, ma' am.
Your cats have a far better gift for disorder."

"No," she said, stifling her merriment.
"Our talk of foxes was very valuable to me. Meanwhile, you have won the
chess match. You
may claim your forfeit."

He stood and placed the chessmen on the table.
The cats disappeared.

She raised her brows. "Ι am waiting.
Ι expect something extravagant."

He dropped the pieces one by one into their box.
''Extravagant, ma’am?"

"In trade for your Herculean task with my
hay-"

"Extravagant," he repeated, gathering
his scattered wits. "Yes, if you like. Though what Ι have in mind is
quite simple. We'll play chess tomorrow as if we're in Italy."

She looked puzzled. What had she expected? That
he would ask for something she could simply and in honor refuse? Or that he
would ask for her favors directly and let himself be so easily spurned?

"Now Ι
am
surprised," she
said.

He gave her a small bow. "What Ι really
wish for, Ι shall never ask. Ι am content to wait until you offer
it."

"Which will never happen."

Alden looked away toward the carefully tended
garden. It was all practicality, yet the indulgence of flowers spoke of a
longing for beauty, even for frivolity - or did they all have some use, like
the cowslip wine?

He had no idea.

The whole place spoke of unceasing toil. Why did
she do it? Most widows, especially ones with her looks, would hasten to
remarry. Instead she buried herself here and labored alone. It spoke of a great
reserve of courage, but Alden couldn't understand it and he wanted to, very
much. Yet how could he, if he was to carry this through? Lud, he was behaving
like a mooncalf! She was only a woman. What harm would it do to bring her a few
hours of pleasure?

He turned back to her and bowed again, the exact,
gracious obeisance of the court. "In which case, let us amuse ourselves
with more innocent pastimes: Your face lit like a lamp when Ι mentioned
Italy. Ι cannot take you there, so let me bring a little of her flavor
here. Just follow the instructions Ι send you and meet me here tomorrow as
the sun is going down."

She looked suspicious, but something else flamed
in her eyes - a longing, an intense curiosity. It moved him.

"Very well," she said. It was almost
breathless.

"And my chore? What task do you have for
me?"

"What chores can Ι possibly have left,
now Ι have three maids? Was that your idea when you sent them?" Her
voice mocked. "You think you avoid your debt so easily?"

"Not at all. You may ask for anything."

"Then my task is this: Ι need a
pineapple."

At the splendid incongruity of it, he laughed.
"I am overwhelmed," he said. "Why?"

"To eat. It is my fancy."

"Where would Ι find such a thing?"

"In London? When Ι have it, you may
claim your forfeit. Then we shall share our evening in Italy."

"The hunt for this fruit will certainly take
me away from Manston Mingate."

"That's the idea," she said.