The Trouble With Seduction (38 page)

Beau quickly stepped to the side. “If I should happen to make his acquaintance, who might I say is enquiring?” He flashed her his dazzling smile. The one that usually brought blushes to even the most hardened old harridans.

A graceful brow rose.

The intensity of her gaze sharpened as she openly assessed his new black top hat; took careful note of his face; measured the breadth of his shoulders; inspected his new suit, cravat, starched shirt, waistcoat and burnished boots; slowly drew her gaze upward to his lips and then directly into his eyes.

Beau found himself straightening to attention. For a man of the world and a former Royal Navy officer, he’d never experienced a more unabashed, thorough inspection. His voice came out a little too tight and stern. “Do I pass muster, madam?”

Humor flashed in her eyes, hitting him like an electric jolt. His gaze flew to her delectable mouth. More curiosity stirred.

The music swelled into another rollicking polka.

Peripherally, he saw ‘mustache’ nodding his head toward the bandstand.

Nothing about this supposed business meeting had been typical, but life and freedom were meant to be enjoyed. Why not dance with a pretty woman? Beau could ask questions with her in his arms as well as anywhere else. “Shall we take a turn about the dance floor?”

She turned to him in surprise. “You know this new polka, Captain?”

Her response gave him pause. Women had often complimented him on his dancing. How hard could it be? He glanced at the dancers’ antics while positioning his hat on his head. “We’ll soon find out.”

***

C.C. placed her gloved hand on his arm and let him lead the way toward the packed dance platform. Could this truly be Captain Tollier? Having not met him until now, she’d counted on his portrait, painted a dozen years before, to at least somewhat resemble him.

Above, the orchestra increased its tempo. Couples spun faster, skipped and twirled in wild gyrations, barely missing one another. She gazed about the roiling mass of bodies.

Discussions would be difficult on the rowdy dance floor, and the stakes were too high to risk misinterpretation. Though C.C. grew up in New York, after her father’s death, her mother moved back to be with her family in North Carolina. Now they were in desperate need of her help. It was imperative she persuade Captain Tollier to take her through the Union blockade.

“We must discuss my proposal. The gardens are quieter,” she shouted over the music and pulled on his arm to guide him toward the path around the platform.

His brow rose and a glint sparked in his deep-set aqua-blue eyes. Magnetism hit her like a gale-force wind. Her pulse began to pound in her ears.
Laws
, what had she been thinking? Dealings of this sort should take place in a dignified business setting with no prying ears.

When the captain didn’t answer her first two
proper
meeting requests, she’d reckoned he might respond better to something rather
improper
. It had worked, but now she wondered at the wisdom of that bright idea.

As they moved through the throng, the sweet smell of cinnamon apple tarts eddied on the breeze. Deafening cheers erupted from the game booths. Suddenly, the crowd surged. A large man nearly knocked her off her feet.

The captain circled a muscular arm around her shoulder, steadying her. “I know a shortcut. Let me lead the way,” he announced, his deep voice full of command. The side of her body locked against his tingled, even as his assumption of control began to annoy.

She needed to keep charge of the situation. This whole endeavor depended on her ability to work with this man. He’d a reputation for being wily and unpredictable and clever as a fox. No doubt he’d an impressive stubborn streak as well. But then, he was a captain.

As he forged a path through the chaotic revelers, she slyly studied him. Pleasant features could hide all sorts of unpleasantness. Of this she was well aware. His younger, callow portrait had resembled a blond Adonis, and accounts of his bravery and adventures had kept her spellbound.

Now up close, she could see his face had become leaner, more honed. Years at sea had weathered his skin, transformed the handsome face of a youth into that of a formidable man. Strength and resolve now etched his striking features, carved distinction into the shrewd line of his jaw and made his lips all the more sensuous with an added cynical curve.

Heavens! Desist! She sounded like a starry-eyed girl.
She tore her gaze from him as they entered the shadowy gardens’ main walkway. Scents of vegetation wove through the air. Fog had rolled in off the Thames, cloaking the elms’ and poplars’ branches in a murky haze. Goddess-shaped lampposts stood on the long path like sentries guarding the well-tended flowerbeds. Their gauzy areoles of light marched into the distance.

“I take it you are familiar with Cremorne?” the captain drawled.

Were her ears playing tricks on her, or did that certain note in his voice refer to the garden’s ribald reputation after dusk? Surely he didn’t think this meeting included something a little more
ribald,
did he?

C.C. cut him a quick glance and tried to smile. “Oh yes, it is most enjoyable. I bring the children here when they’re good. We especially like the games. The darling poppets and toy prizes make nice rewards.”

“Poppets? Toys?” He sounded confused. “Something must be amiss. The letter said highest
rewards
and benefits?” He quickly cut her a glance and said in astonishment, “You have children?”

“They’re not mine, exactly. They live at the Freesdale Orphanage.”

“You keep looking around. Is your husband aware of this meeting?”

“Husband. Dear me, that is funny.” She attempted a laugh. “I’m looking for an empty bench where we can sit and talk.” She gazed down the long line of couples strolling the pathways. “So many people are here tonight.”

His white teeth flashed mischievously. “We probably could find someplace more secluded if you like.”

Her pulse launched into an uneven skip.
Oh he was a rascal
. This meeting at Cremorne was beginning to look more and more misguided.
For goodness’ sake
, she’d taken such care with everything, including her no-nonsense business attire: a worn shopkeeper’s gown, hair in a plain style and a brush of coal dust. All to avoid recognition by acquaintances and hopefully ensure Captain Tollier took her seriously.

She drew herself up primly. “Since you didn’t answer either of my first two letters, I assume something in them didn’t meet with your liking.” Tonight she was determined to discover what those things were. “If we can find a calm, quiet place to discuss my proposal, I feel confident we can come to an amicable agreement.”

***

Beau extended his arm to point. “Look, there in the fog, I think I see a bench.” As they made their way toward it, they passed under a lamp allowing him a closer examination. Nothing about this mysterious woman added up. Not a bauble or jewel adorned her person. Her coarse shawl and worn, dark-purple, high-necked gown might indicate any number of occupations.

What was she? A shopgirl? A governess? A Union spy? A tart? He studied her entrancing lips. A kiss might identify one vocation. Yet the way she carried herself shouted prim, proper and upper crust. If he were to needle her in the right manner, he’d not be surprised to find the airs and graces of a ‘papa’s little princess.’

Enough. He needed some answers. He pulled her to a stop. Taking her hand, he kissed a gloved knuckle. Her enticing vanilla and honeysuckle perfume blossomed through his senses—the same fragrance as on the letter.
Lord
, she smelled good. How long had it been since he’d even noticed a woman’s perfume?

Clearing his throat, he said, “Now then. Would I be correct if I said your initials are C.C.?”

“Yes, they are,” she said with an air of self-possession.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he never would have imagined a woman like her. “Why have you asked me to meet you here tonight?”

She waited for a couple to walk past before leaning in to whisper, “Did you not read the letters?”

He pulled the note from his jacket pocket and held it up. “I read this one.”

Her features tightened. “You should have received two more. Did you read them?”

Rather than deny he’d gotten the letters, he merely said, “No.”

Two elegant brows drew into a frown. She lifted her chin. “Why not?”

He almost laughed at her presumptuousness. Who was she to take him to task for not reading her letters? She reminded him of an autocratic Greek tutor he’d once had, although he found her much more interesting. “Madam, before a few minutes ago, you were a total stranger. When I receive unsolicited letters from unknown addressees, alas, they go into the fire.”

“Into the fire!” She rocked on her feet and glared up at him, her ringlets bouncing to and fro. “If you’d bothered to read them, you would have found that my man of business set forth the whole proposal in detail!”

Well, well
now wasn’t she a feisty one…so direct and so…different. “Perhaps you could give me the short version,” he drawled, unable to keep the smile from tugging at his lips. Ordinarily he might take offense at her plain speaking. Instead, her uninhibited boldness made him want to laugh. He could almost see sparks sputtering around her tight hair coils and rather enjoyed ruffling her.

She glanced about them again, waited for another couple to pass and said in a quiet clipped tone, “The short version is that I am in desperate need of your help and expertise.”

“To do what?” He grinned.

Cannon blasts pummeled the air and shook the ground. The percussion slammed him in the chest and knocked him back a step. All the air disappeared. He clutched his arms to his sides, gasped for air and hoped to God this very attractive woman couldn’t see how his nerves were fraying.

In the distance, a stentorian voice announced the reenactment of a battle. Even though his mind knew the cannon fire was only an exhibition, his body couldn’t be so easily convinced.

Concern etched C.C.’s countenance. “Are you all right?” She gently placed a gloved hand against his cheek, tipping his head down.

He had the oddest sensation of falling into fathomless eyes filled with compassion, calm strength and a steely will—a mooring of sorts.

Rifle volleys sent sharp waves screaming through him. He clenched again, and struggled to mirror her slow inhale and exhale. Gradually, his rigid sinews began to loosen.

“Do you have difficulties with London’s air, too, Captain?”

“How did you do that?” he gasped.

“Kipp, a little boy at the orphanage, has weak lungs. His brother showed me how to help him when he has an attack.”

Beau had never experienced anything like it. In those silent, breathless moments he’d sensed a connection form between them. But was it an illusion? Another trick from a lady of the evening or a spy?

The cursed prickles began treading up his spine again. Cringing, he slowly peered over his shoulder. If C.C. was standing in front of him, who was spying on him from behind?

Several couples strolled toward them out of the fog.

Clutching her elbow, he led her across the manicured lawn into a copse of trees.

“What are you do—”

He swung them behind a tree and peered out. Whatever she wanted to talk about suddenly lost importance. The villains following him were the more immediate problem.

“Tell me—”

“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips.

Two men in top hats stepped off the gravel path and picked their way across the lawn.

Beau marched C.C. deeper into the grove around trees and shrubs. Then through an archway of fragrant vines to a fountain struggling to reflect hazy moonlight. They needed to stay quiet and hidden.

“Before you drag me any further into the bushes—”

Didn’t the woman know the meaning of shhhh? She would give away their hiding place if he didn’t do something quick. He pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his. Mint and vanilla filled his senses.

Her sweet, almost maidenly response surprised him. No, she probably wasn’t a tart. Just a hasty stolen kiss, yet he couldn’t help appreciate the tantalizing fit of her supple lips under his and how her body softened against him. His heart stammered and launched into a faster beat. Lifting his head, he gazed about her bewildered, upturned countenance, breathlessly poised for a man’s kisses. Hmm, not entirely a maiden either.

Perhaps another quick kiss would clarify matters?

Alarms blared through his mind, but the evening’s stresses muted their warning. Months of wondering if each day would be his last had his inner voice insisting: live life when it’s handed to you…it could end in a heartbeat.

He lowered his head and softly brushed her lips.

Though clearly not experienced, she returned his caress with such tenderness he couldn’t describe why it felt so thrilling, so right. They’d just met, yet she kissed him as if she was…as if they were…well, something more than strangers.

She circled her arms around his neck and leaned into him. This spurred him further. He angled his head for a better fit; she moved to accommodate. Warmth trickled into the damaged, hollow place in his heart. For the first time in a very long while he allowed himself the comfort of human contact, and he couldn’t keep his starved longing from entering his caress. Lifting her off her feet, he held her tight in his arms.

C.C. responded with a sigh and melted into him, sending shocks through his torso. A sensual fog clouded his mind. His heart thumped wildly and another part grew uncomfortably insistent. The woman wasn’t joking when she promised the
Highest Rewards and Benefits
.

Hazy thoughts struggled through overloaded senses.

No. This was too convenient. He still didn’t know why she’d sent him the notes. Two men were trailing him. Was she really a spy? He set her down. “Madam, this better not be a trap.”

At his words, she pushed out of his arms. Her confused expression sharpened. “If you’d responded to the first two letters we wouldn’t be tromping around a darkened pleasure garden at nearly midnight.”