JORDAN Nicole (17 page)

When she was gone, Drew blew out a long breath as he fought against his maddening feelings of desire and his even more irrational pique. Admittedly Roslyn’s appearance of cool serenity irked him. He had to be losing his touch with the fairer sex if she could remain so unaffected when he was throbbing with heat from such a simple encounter.

“Hell and the devil,” Drew swore at himself. “You were a fool to become so involved with her.”

His lessons in seduction had unexpectedly backfired on him, he realized. He’d craved to take his instruction much further just now. He’d wanted Roslyn to touch him in return, wanted those delicate hands caressing his own body, drifting over his bare skin….

It had required supreme willpower to draw away from her. Just that brief physical contact had left him in a state of severe sexual frustration.

Drew grimaced, feeling his erection straining painfully against his breeches. The innocent enchantress had no idea how powerfully she aroused him. The damnable truth was, he wanted her. More than he could remember wanting any woman. And he was beginning to be positively haunted by visions of bedding her.

He muttered another mild oath. His loins were aching, no doubt because he hadn’t sated his lust in the scented arms of a courtesan last night as he’d expected to. When it came right down to it, the thought of taking his pleasure with a voluptuous tart had held little appeal, especially when he kept comparing all the Cyprians he knew to Roslyn’s elegant, regal beauty.

But his decision to abstain last night had left his control with her this morning tenuous at best.

His jaw taut, Drew closed his eyes. He would have to assuage the painful pressure in the privacy of his bedchamber tonight, he knew. If he didn’t give himself relief soon, he might very well lose control with Roslyn and do something they would both regret.

Even now he couldn’t restrain his lascivious thoughts about her, couldn’t help picturing her there with him. His imagination insisted on undressing her…stripping her gown away and baring her exquisitely lovely body…laying her back against the sofa.

She looked wildly desirable, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders in a pale, tawny mane, her ripe breasts beckoning, her creamy thighs parted in invitation. In his fantasy he covered her with his body and sank into her, thrusting deep and hard. He could almost feel her inner tightness, her sleek warmth as her sheath clenched and shivered around him….

Grinding his jaw in frustration, Drew rose abruptly. He couldn’t explain why Roslyn filled him with such hunger, but he was not about to let his lust for the woman run away from him.

“You would be mad to cross that line,” Drew muttered to himself.

Still aching and restless, he took a turn around the library, yet his thoughts remained on Roslyn. She was supremely dangerous to him, but not only because he felt an extraordinary attraction to her. It was because she managed to get beneath his guard so easily. Except for Marcus’s sister Eleanor, he had never been able to relax around a genteel young lady. He was always on the defensive, alert for matrimonial traps. But being himself with Roslyn felt entirely natural.

And so did his fierce sexual urges.

Giving in to them, however, was strictly forbidden. Not only was she under Marcus’s protection, Drew reminded himself, but he had promised to help groom her to ensnare the affections of another man.

He suddenly frowned at the inexplicable twinge of jealousy that stabbed him. He had no right to be jealous. And in truth, he was eager to help her win Haviland as a suitor as soon as possible, so she would cease plaguing his own thoughts, and worse, his fantasies.

It might take some time, since Haviland appeared to view her as much as a cordial neighbor as a potential bride. Roslyn’s affections weren’t fully engaged yet, either, she had admitted so. Drew had carefully scrutinized her response toward the earl yesterday. While she’d been perfectly amiable, there was little sign they were more than friends, although she hoped for so much more.

Wondering what success she was having at the moment, Drew strode to the window to look out, even though the landscaping prevented him from seeing the earl’s estate next door. He was impatient for her return, yet she had barely been gone ten minutes, and would likely take a good while longer.

Chiding himself for even caring, he glanced down at the window seat where Roslyn had been sitting upon his arrival. When he picked up the heavy tome she’d been reading, his mouth curved at the title…. Volume VII of William Cobbett’sThe Parliamentary History of England .

Drew shook his head in mingled amusement and admiration. The contrast between Roslyn’s delicate beauty and her scholarly mind was highly intriguing.

He’d always valued intellect and education. Marcus and Heath were his closest friends in large part because their minds were sharp enough to keep up with his. At university, he’d been the studious one. And his library at his London town house was even more extensive than this one. So he couldn’t help but be pleased to find a woman with a thirst for knowledge as great as his own.

Remembering Roslyn’s complaint that she had never been permitted to learn Greek, Drew found himself grinning. She was certainly not simply a beautiful featherhead. Rather she was extremely well read and well educated, with a sparkling intelligence that presented a challenge even to a man of his intellect.

In fact, he’d already read the twelve volumes of Cobbett’sHistory that had been published to date and had a standing order with the publisher for future volumes. But he settled in the window seat with Volume VII and lounged back, prepared to pass the time reading until Roslyn’s return.

Perhaps sheshould have been born male, Drew thought, still amused, although it would have been a damned shame to waste all that remarkable beauty. A beauty she didn’t even appreciate.

Chapter Eight

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Why do I feel such a vexing attraction for one man when I know I want another one entirely?

—Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn returned home an hour later, disgruntled and severely disappointed in herself. She would rather not have to face the duke, but she found him awaiting her in the library as promised.

“So how did your seduction go?” he asked when she entered.

“Not as well as I hoped.” Moving across the library, she sank heavily into a chair.

Arden left his place at the window seat to resume sitting on the sofa. “That’s all you mean to say? Did you attempt to apply our advice?”

Roslyn summoned a wry smile. “Oh, I tried. But I was too self-conscious to be very successful.”

The duke regarded her curiously. “But you contrived to touch Haviland?”

“Yes.”But it didn’t work . At first she couldn’t bring herself to be so forward as to accidentally caress Haviland, or even to flirt with him. Her efforts felt too calculating. But just before she left, she’d let her fingers brush the earl’s as she handed him her notes about the ball.

“And?” Arden prodded.

“And nothing.” Roslyn made a face. “He didn’t appear to feel anything at all.”

“Perhaps you weren’t overt enough.”

“Perhaps.” Yet she didn’t believe that was the case. She hadn’t elicited any reaction from Haviland whatsoever. Even more troubling, she hadn’t felt the expected spark between them, either.

What vexed her most, however, was that while she was trying to kindle sparks in the Earl of Haviland, all she could think about was the flaming response that the Duke of Arden had ignited in her so effortlessly earlier this morning when he’d conducted his demonstration of the effectiveness of touching.

“You will have to be less subtle next time,” the duke advised.

“There may not even be a next time,” Roslyn said crossly. “We have already decided on all the details relating to the ball, such as where to place the flowers and musicians and reception line.”

Arden gazed at her with amusement. “Then invite him over for luncheon or tea tomorrow.”

“On what pretext?”

“I’m sure you can think of something. Tell him you want to learn more about his family, the haughty relations he wants to impress. Or you can discuss taking protective measures against the highwayman.”

Roslyn frowned. “We held that discussion today. Haviland means to have armed grooms patrol the roads during his ball to thwart any holdups like the one Lady Freemantle and I suffered, even though there has been no further sign of the highwayman since.”

“Good,” the duke replied. “It will be best if he assumes responsibility for the safety of the district. I plan to return to London tomorrow, since Lady Freemantle seems fully recovered from her ordeal.”

Roslyn roused herself from her morose thoughts long enough to offer him a faint smile. “I wish to thank you again for staying to comfort her. It was very noble of you.”

Arden grinned. “Indeed it was. So what do you mean to do about Haviland? Are you certain you even want to continue your campaign to win him?”

“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “I am certain.”

“Perhaps he isn’t the right husband for you after all.”

“Perhaps not, but I mean to discover that for myself. I still have hopes he can come to love me.”

Arden cocked his head, surveying her. “Why this insistence upon marrying for love? Members of our class usually settle for marriages of convenience.”

Roslyn couldn’t hide her wince. “Because I don’t want to end up like my parents. They were bitter enemies who relished hurting each other.”

“Most ton marriages are not much better,” Arden said sardonically.

“You are far too cynical, your grace.”

“And your notions about love are far too idealistic.”

Roslyn raised an eyebrow. “You think true love is merely a fairy tale?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t believe so. I’ve never experienced genuine love myself, but I know it exists. My friend Tess Blanchard loved her betrothed very deeply before he was killed at Waterloo. And my mother found love with her second husband.”

The duke shook his head. “Neither case is representative of genteel British marriages. Your friend’s betrothed died, and your mother married a Frenchman.”

“Arabella and Marcus certainly love each other.”

His mouth curled, but he held his tongue.

Even so, Roslyn protested his skepticism. “You have seen them together. You cannot dispute how ardently they feel for each other.”

He shrugged. “They fancy themselves in love for now, but I doubt it will last. I’ve witnessed too many couples profess to be madly in love until the first flush of lust wears off. Then they are left with nothing more than boredom—or worse.”

Roslyn gave him an arch smile. “I would not expect your sentiments to be any different. Merely because you are reputed to be a marvelous lover does not mean you know a thing about love.”

“Indeed, I don’t. And I don’t wish to know, either.” His expression remained bland as he studied her. “It surprises me, though, that with your experience, you still believe you can make a love match. You said your parents’ marriage was a battleground?”

“Yes. When I was young, they fought all the time.” Even now their animosity was still intensely painful for Roslyn to remember, but she managed a shrug. “That, no doubt, is why I became ‘bookish,’ as you termed it.”

“How so?”

“Books provided me an escape. During my parents’ fights, I would hide in the library among my beloved books until their battles ended, cowering like a timid mouse.”

“I can’t imagine you cowering at anything.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “Oh, I did, believe me. I would crawl behind the window seat curtains and try to shut out their conflicts, but I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. Sometimes I couldn’t even hold a volume still enough to read.” Her expression became bleak. “My sisters would usually find me and try to comfort me, but it was something I couldn’t control.”

Roslyn fell silent, recalling those dark, turbulent years of her girlhood. Both her sisters had worried for her. Lily would slip into the library where she was hiding and hold her hand, offering solace by chattering on about the latest kitten or foal born on the estate farms. Arabella, however, would drag them both out of doors, where they walked or rode for hours, returning only when they could be assured that their father had stormed out of the house and left their mother weeping bitter tears.

Arden remained silent, too, as he regarded her intently. His gaze was unreadable as usual, but Roslyn thought she saw a hint of softness there that seemed like sympathy.

Taking hold of herself, she shook off the uncomfortable vulnerability. She had no need for his pity. Yet the painful remembrance of her parents’ unhappy marriage only reinforced her resolve to control her own fate.

“It was a long time ago,” she said, forcing a lighter note into her tone. “But perhaps you see why I am determined to make Lord Haviland fall in love with me.”

“Yes, I see.” Arden slowly rose to his feet. “Take heart, sweeting. All is not lost. I will call on him now and see if I can encourage him.”

Roslyn felt a sudden stab of unease. “What do you intend, your grace?”

“Merely to sing your praises a little. Don’t worry, I will make it subtle. I need to speak to Haviland on several matters in any case, so he will never suspect my intentions.”

She scowled. “I hope not. You said the last thing I should do is let him realize I am pursuing him. It would be nearly as detrimental if he thinks you are matchmaking.”

“Matchmaking…God forbid.” The duke gave a mock shudder. “But I suppose that is precisely what I am doing.” He hesitated a moment. “If you like, I’ll give you a final lesson before I leave for London tomorrow morning. You still need to work on a few shortcomings.”

His provocative tone somehow made her distrustful. “What shortcomings?” she asked warily, trying not to feel insulted.

The smile he flashed her was irresistible. “I will tell you tomorrow.”

Roslyn blinked, taken aback by the stunning impact of that potent male smile. The beauty of it made her heart lurch and her stomach flutter—both reactions she had never felt with Lord Haviland.