The Seduction (53 page)

"Really? Where?"

He had no intention of telling her. He would save those secrets for future expeditions. He pointed ahead of him. "We're almost there."

She could see nothing but blackness outside the circle of lamplight. "How can you tell?"

"I've been through this passage many times. As a boy, it was one of my favorite places." Struck by a memory, he laughed. "I met old Lord Kettering, Edward's father, down here one night when I was about eleven. He was coming down the ladder from my mother's room."

"What?" she gasped. "Edward's father had an affair with your mother?"

"For several years." He noticed her astonished expression. "Maggie, in our social circle affairs are quite common."

"I know, but it never ceases to shock me." She shook her head. "And your mother seems so, so fastidious. I can't imagine her carrying on a clandestine affair."

"She did, though. More than one, I assure you. I can recall at least seven different lovers." He paused, then added, "Once a woman has provided the heir and the spare, she is usually free to do as she pleases, provided she is discreet."

"I see. And your father did not mind this?"

"I don't think he ever really noticed. Besides, what could he say? He spent half his time in Cumberland with the Duchess of Arbuthnot anyway. He was hardly in a position to criticize."

"The duchess? You're having me on."

"I’m not. They were lovers for nigh on eight years."

"Doesn't it bother you?" she asked, "to know that your parents were unfaithful to each other?"

"It did when I was a boy, but I got over it. I came to the realization that it's quite common among the peerage. Even expected."

"It's no wonder, then," she murmured as if to herself.

"What?"

"It's no wonder you have such a low opinion of love. How could you not when it is so cheaply demonstrated?" She came to a halt. "Is that how it would be for us? Once the heir and the spare, as you put it, have been provided, will you go your own way and have your lovers and think nothing of it?"

He stopped walking and turned toward her. There was a heavy tightness in his chest. "Will you?"

Margaret looked down at the dirt floor of the tunnel. "It would be wrong. I would not do it. Indeed, I could not."

The hard tightness in his chest suddenly relaxed. "Then I won't either," he said quietly, but he knew she did not believe him.

The tunnel ended abruptly, and she looked up to see the square hole of a trap door in the planking above their heads.

Trevor reached up, setting the lamp on the edge, then grasped her waist and lifted her through the hole. She pulled herself up and over, giving him a brief, enticing glimpse of her bare legs just before she disappeared through the opening. He followed her inside the cottage.

Margaret glanced around the interior of the small stone cottage. A fire was laid in the grate, cheese, fruit and wine were laid out on the table, and the bed had been made.

"The first morning after our arrival, I went for a walk and found this place," she said. "I looked in the windows and thought it was deserted. But it looks quite cozy now."

Trevor didn't answer. Instead, he set the lamp on the table and walked to the fireplace. He lit a fire, and when he turned toward her, he found her frowning at him. "A fire, wine, a bed," she murmured. "All the necessities of a seduction."

"Yes," he agreed frankly.

She bristled at that, all her defenses coming to the fore. "You presume too much."

"Is it presumption for me to arrange a romantic rendezvous with my wife?" he countered and walked to the table. He pulled out a chair for her. "Or to want to make love to her?"

She glanced down at the chair, but did not move to sit. "In light of my intention not to remain your wife, it
is
presumptuous."

He walked around the table and took the chair directly opposite her. "I'd prefer to call it hopeful. Why don't you sit down so we can discuss this while we eat?"

She sat down stiffly. "You take me for granted, Ashton, and I don't like it."

He poured wine for both of them. "Maggie, I've learned never to take you for granted," he answered and held out a glass to her. "I find that the moment I do, you take it into your head to do something completely unexpected."

Margaret took the glass and swallowed a sip of wine. "You shouldn't have told me that. Now you've shown me that you have a vulnerability. Aren't you afraid I'll use it against you?"

"No," he said. "This isn't a war between us, Maggie. At least, I don't want it to be."

"And what about what I want? You know my feelings about our marriage and my intentions. Yet you continue to ignore them." She gestured to their surroundings. "This, this seduction is all for the purpose of obtaining your heir, and has nothing to do with me. You don't love me." She stood up. "And I don't love you."

He'd intended to wait, to soften her resistance, but the opening she'd just given him was too good to pass up. He rose and walked around the table, watching her as she backed away from him. "You don't love me?" he asked softly. "You have accused me of lying to you, but apparently it is you who have lied to me, madam. For I remember our wedding night very clearly, and all the times you told me you did love me."

"That was before!" she cried, backing away as he came toward her. "Before I learned what a deceiving scoundrel you really are. I don't love you anymore."

"No?" He continued to walk toward her, watching as she unknowingly backed herself into a corner of the room. "Forgive me if I need to find out for myself just what your true feelings are."

He took one more step forward. Her shoulders hit the walls of the corner behind her. She was trapped. He slowly bent his head to kiss her.

"You are despicable," she said, turning her face away to evade the move. "You'll do anything to get your own way."

"True." He pressed tiny kisses along her cheek to one corner of her lips. "But I already warned you I wouldn't play fair," he murmured and slid one hand into her hair to turn her face toward him. He brushed his lips over hers. "I want to make love, you want to make war, and all's fair in both."

She made a sound of agitation against his mouth. "Stop it. Don't do this to me."

"Kiss me back."

"I won't" she said, resisting him.

Undeterred, he continued to kiss her, coaxing her to respond. But she brought her hands up protectively between them and remained unyielding. "Kiss me back," he urged. He began to brush his tongue back and forth across the plump curve of her lower lip as he slid one arm around her waist. He caressed the small of her back and nibbled on her lip until slowly, very slowly, some of the rigidity left her, and her lips parted beneath his persuasion.

"C'mon, Maggie," he coaxed against her mouth. "Kiss me back. Kiss me."

With a moan, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him instead of pulling away, her body molding instinctively to his as she surrendered. His hungry body responded instantly to the move, and he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and sliding his tongue between her teeth to taste her.

She met him halfway, her tongue touched his, and lust surged through his bloodstream like wildfire. He began unfastening the buttons of her blouse.

She broke free of his kiss and reached down to grab his wrist. "Stop. I don't want this."

Her hold was no deterrent, and he continued undoing buttons, his knuckles brushing against her breast as he unfastened each one. He bent his head to kiss her exposed throat, tasting her sweet, lemon-scented skin. "Do you really want me to stop?"

"Yes!" she cried desperately, pushing against his chest. "I don't want you to touch me. I hate you."

He tightened his embrace and nuzzled her blouse open to trail kisses along her collarbone. "No, you don't. You love me."

"I don't." She pushed at him halfheartedly, and he ignored it.

"You do," he answered. "It's only pride that makes you fight it." He grasped a handful of her blouse and pulled it out of the waistband of her skirt.

She began to quiver in his hold, and he knew her resistance was slipping. He undressed her, pausing with each garment that was removed to kiss and caress her. But still she fought him with words. "Don't do this," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "You can't mean to do this."

"I mean it, Maggie." After undressing, he slid his hands up her torso to caress her breasts. "You love me," he murmured.

"I never loved you!" she cried again.

"Liar." He nibbled her earlobe and caressed the taut tips of her breasts until she began to make small sighs in her throat and tilted her head back in a yielding arch. He pressed his advantage, lowering his head to her breast, licking her. The soft skin of her aureole was like velvet against his tongue as he circled her nipple, teasing.

She kept her eyes closed, and her arms came up to cradle his head and pull him closer. He wanted to show her how luscious she felt, how beautiful she was to him. He wanted to please her and ravish her and cherish her. Most of all, he wanted to hear her say that she loved him.

Slowly, he kissed his way up her body, his hands trailing down to the lovely swell of her hips as he captured her mouth with his.

"You love me," he murmured against her lips. "Say it." He knew how proud she was and what it would cost her pride to tell him what he wanted to hear, but he didn't care. Nothing had ever impelled him like this, and he wouldn't be denied. Like an addict craving opium, he wanted to hear her tell him that she still loved him. He wanted to hear it again and again. "Admit it."

She tore her mouth from his. "I won't," she gasped, shaking her head. "I won't."

Stubborn, stubborn Maggie. "Stop fighting this," he murmured and slid his hand between her thighs. He brushed his fingers back and forth over her soft curls, coaxing, tempting, then caressing deeper as she began to writhe against his hand, gasping with pleasure. He needed to hear her admit the truth, wanted to hear it more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. "You love me. I know you do. Say it. Say it."

He moved his hand so that only one finger touched her, caressing the nub at the center of her desire, over and over, until he finally forced from her the words he wanted so desperately to hear. They tumbled out between her soft cries as she climaxed. "Yes, yes!" she cried with a sob, her arms encircling his neck to hold onto him. "I love you, Trevor. I love you. I love you!"