To Seduce a Bride (4 page)

“That much I can assure you,” Heath said with confidence.

Still looking uncertain, Fanny hesitated a moment longer. “Thank you, my lord,” she said finally. “And I hope you will forgive me for my unwanted interference, but I care deeply for Lily and don't want to see her hurt.”

“Your concern is duly noted, Miss Irwin,” Heath replied, keeping his tone easy. “But I am not in the habit of hurting women.”

A smile flickered on her lips. “Not intentionally, I know. Indeed, your reputation for giving pleasure is legendary. But unintentionally? Please…just take care with her, my lord.”

“I will, I assure you.”

With that, Fanny gave him a respectful curtsy and left him.

Coming out from behind the palms, Heath returned to stand on the ballroom sidelines, absently watching the dancers. The Danvers wedding ball was a crush by anyone's standards. The press of perfumed bodies, along with the candle flames from myriad glittering chandeliers, made the warmth of the ballroom oppressive. But the guests were clearly enjoying themselves.

Heath paid little attention to the gaiety and noise around him, however. His thoughts were too focused on his recent conversation about his matrimonial intentions.

Was he truly serious about pursuing Lily Loring?

Fanny's dire prediction didn't concern him overmuch, since he had always been able to have any woman he wanted. And he most definitely wanted Lily. If he set his mind to winning her, he was certain he could have her.

But did he want to win her?

His only option was marriage, of course. Seducing her was out of the question. His own honor wouldn't allow it, not to mention the certainty that Marcus would cut out his liver along with other more sensitive parts of his anatomy.

Until Marcus's engagement, he hadn't thought seriously of marriage. In fact, he'd earnestly avoided it, eluding the traps of countless matchmaking mamas and their grasping young darlings who saw him as prey.

He liked women immensely; he just had never wanted to be tied to a particular one, having her forever by his side until death did them part.

But perhaps it was time that he contemplated a foray into matrimony, Heath realized. He would eventually have to settle down to produce heirs to carry on his illustrious title, in any event. Just as Marcus had done.

Quite unexpectedly, Marcus had been the first to take the plunge. Before inheriting the earldom and assuming guardianship for the three impoverished Loring sisters, Marcus had absolutely no desire to end his precious bachelorhood. In fact, he'd planned to discharge his unwanted duty as guardian by marrying his wards off to respectable suitors, despite their fierce objections. But his initial attraction to the beautiful eldest, Arabella, was so fierce that he'd wagered he could persuade her to accept his proposal of marriage—a wager that Arabella was just as determined he would lose. After several weeks of spirited battle, they had both fallen deeply in love.

Heath was sincerely pleased for his friend. It was not usual for a nobleman to find love and happiness in marriage. In the normal order of things, the aristocracy made unions of convenience to insure the best alliances of fortunes and bloodlines.

It was what his own parents had done, as had all the generations of his family before them.

Heath was not prepared to do the same. His parents' union had been such a wretched mismatch in terms of personalities and interests, he'd vowed he would never follow in their footsteps.

If he had to marry, he wanted a woman who could match him in the ways that counted most…in spirit and passion, in a craving for adventure.

Lily Loring might very well fit that bill.

Even her stubborn need for independence was appealing to him, Heath mused. He understood that need, for he felt it himself.

And admittedly, of late he'd begun to envy Marcus's newfound happiness. All his own relationships with women had been based on physical pleasure and mutual satisfaction, but he might relish having the kind of love and intimacy that Marcus now shared with his new bride. Marriage to a woman he could respect and enjoy and cherish.

In many other ways, Lily Loring would make a fitting candidate for his wife. Her birth and breeding, for one. More importantly, she would rarely bore him and would doubtless prove a delight in his bed.

Unquestionably he found her highly desirable, with her dark eyes, that lush mouth, those ripe breasts, her silken hair that shimmered with shades of russet and gold. Something about her called to him…something complex and compelling. Perhaps the way she pulsed with life and vitality. There was an inner fire to her, a fire that stoked the one inside him.

She was compassionate as well, Heath reflected. How many ladies of her elite station would concern themselves with the fate of the stable cat and kittens?

And there was that undeniable twinge of tenderness that kept pricking at his heart each time he learned something new about her.

Yes, Lily was suitable—and suitably intriguing enough—for him to consider wooing. Although most certainly he would need to use every ounce of charm and skill he possessed to overcome her reticence. She was afraid to give herself to any man in marriage, to trust that she wouldn't be hurt.

She wasn't cold-natured in the least, however. She only needed awakening. Heath knew that in his gut, had felt it in her innocently sensual kisses. Lily had responded to his embrace as if she'd never wanted before, never needed before.

She'd been shocked by the erotic fire between them, he could see it in her flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. He'd been more than a little jolted himself.

He couldn't recall ever being that powerfully, that savagely, attracted to anyone. She'd had a profound impact on his equilibrium.

At the recollection, Heath muttered a low oath. Remembering that passionate interlude in the loft with Lily was enough to arouse him again, so he turned away from the ballroom guests to hide the consequences.

And yet he couldn't regret the effect Lily had on him. It had been a very long time since he'd felt the rush of anticipation and expectation that was pumping through his blood now. An even longer time since his pulse had quickened at just the thought of coming to know a woman more intimately.

And as he stepped through the French doors onto the terrace so that the cooler night air could help calm his lust, Heath knew he had made his decision. He would pursue the enchanting Lily and see where a courtship could lead.

And if matrimony was the result? Well, he no longer found the prospect quite so unsettling or intimidating.

Indeed—amazingly enough—not intimidating at all.

         

“Perhaps I should come in just for a moment,” Tess Blanchard said the next morning as she brought her gig to a halt before Danvers Hall's front entrance.

“No,” Lily replied. “You are already dreadfully late for your appointment. I'm certain my sister is fine.”

With a faint smile at her friend, Lily gingerly stepped down from the gig. She was exceedingly glad to be home, for several reasons. First, her head was throbbing from her lamentable overindulgence in champagne at the ball the previous evening. Second, her conscience was throbbing just as painfully. She hadn't slept much last night at Tess's house; instead she'd been busy tossing and turning and mentally writhing at the memory of the Marquess of Claybourne kissing her witless—and her returning his enthralling kisses like a total wanton.

And finally, this morning they'd learned the dismaying news that her sister Roslyn and her friend Winifred, Lady Freemantle had been the victims of a highway robbery shortly after leaving the ball.

Roslyn had not come to Tess's last night as planned, but sent a dismaying note this morning explaining her absence. Alarmed, Lily and Tess had immediately driven to Freemantle Park, only to learn that Roslyn had already returned home to Danvers Hall. Winifred proceeded to detail the shocking events and claimed that Roslyn had suffered no lasting effects, but Lily wanted to see her sister for herself.

She went to the boot to unload her valise, not minding that no footmen or butler came out to help her. The household staff was doubtless cleaning up after the massive wedding celebrations.

The bridal couple would have set out on their wedding journey by now, Lily knew. No one intended to tell Arabella and Marcus about the robbery, since they would likely have postponed their trip, and Roslyn was adamant that her troubles not intrude on their hard-won happiness.

Looking up, Lily offered Tess another brief smile. “Thank you for letting me spend the night and for bringing me home.”

“You know you are welcome,” Tess said warmly as she gathered the reins. “I shall return shortly to see Roslyn. Despite Winifred's reassurances, the experience cannot have been pleasant for her.”

“I will tell her to expect you for luncheon.”

Tess was about to snap the reins at her horse when the sound of a carriage could be heard in the distance. Glancing beyond the gig, Lily spied a team and curricle sweeping up the gravel drive, driven by a lone gentleman garbed in a fashionable frock coat and tall beaver hat.

Her heart suddenly jolted when she recognized those splendid shoulders, and she voiced an oath under her breath. “What the devil is
he
doing here?”

“That is Lord Claybourne, is it not?” Tess asked.

“Regrettably, yes.”

His lordship was the very last person she wanted to see, Lily thought as she stood there cursing her ill luck. If only she had arrived home five minutes earlier, she could have had the butler deny her presence at home. But now she would have to face Lord Claybourne when she was still flustered by the memory of his brazen kisses. And she was in no mood to do it alone.

“Please, Tess, stay another moment. Don't leave me here with him.”

Her friend looked puzzled. “Do you not wish to see him?”

But there was no time to answer as the marquess expertly guided his team alongside Lily and brought the curricle to a halt.

Lily took a steadying breath as she locked gazes with him. She was much more herself this morning, in a rational state of mind. Or at least she was sober now. Without her head swimming, she could withstand his appeal.

Except that in the cold light of day, Lord Claybourne was still as devastatingly handsome as he'd been last night. And his slow smile was just as heart-melting as he greeted them both with a bow. “Good morning, ladies.”

Deploring her stomach-tightening awareness, Lily managed a cool smile, although there was a breathless quality to her voice when she spoke. “What brings you here, my lord?”

“Why, I am merely paying you a morning call.”

Her eyebrow rose. “You came all the way from London to call on me?”

He shrugged one powerful shoulder. “With a fast team, it is not much more than a half-hour drive. And these beauties”—he indicated the two grays before him—“are lightning fast.”

His team was indeed magnificent, Lily noted in silent admiration. Obviously high-spirited but trained well enough to stand patiently while waiting for their master's commands.

But that didn't explain why Claybourne thought he had to call on her. “You should not have troubled yourself, my lord.”

“It was no trouble. I've brought you a basket from my chef.”

She looked at him blankly. “Your chef?”

“A few delicacies for Boots, and a remedy for your headache. I would imagine after last night your skull feels as if a drum took up residence inside.”

Lily couldn't help but be impressed by his thoughtfulness, yet she was not about to let him know it.

“I imagine you speak from experience?” she said dryly.

“Of course.”

Tendering her a grin of knee-weakening charm, he held up the basket. In order to take it, Lily had to set down her valise, which she did reluctantly.

“You are too kind,” she said with forced politeness as she accepted his offering. “Boots will no doubt appreciate your generosity. But you should not have come, my lord. And most certainly you should not be bringing me gifts.”

“Why not, Miss Loring?”

Lily felt exasperation rise inside her. Lord Claybourne was being deliberately obtuse, since she had clearly warned him about Winifred's matchmaking machinations. “You know very well why not. Did you not hear a word I said last night?”

“Yes, I heard every word.”

When Tess's gaze shifted between them at the undercurrents of tension vibrating the air, Lily modulated her tone, realizing she would do better to pretend indifference.

“Then you should have heeded my warning,” she said more evenly. “You cannot bring me gifts without giving rise to speculation. Lady Freemantle will be in raptures.”

“Lady Freemantle doesn't concern me.”

“She will think you are courting me.”

“So?”

At the casual question, Lily stared at him. “S-so…” She stammered to a halt as she understood his implication, since words failed her. “You cannot possibly be thinking of courting me.”

“I beg to differ.”

From his mild expression, he didn't appear to be ribbing her, yet he couldn't be serious.

“Lord Claybourne…that is absurd. You don't wish to wed me, and I most certainly don't wish to wed you.”

His hazel eyes regarded her steadily. “How will we know unless we explore the issue? And for that we must have the chance to improve our acquaintance.”

He was making her unsettled now, and extremely vexed. Lily narrowed her gaze on him. “I don't know what sort of game you are playing, my lord, but I do not care for it in the least.”

“It is no game, angel.”

Lily tightened her jaw. “The polite response would be to thank you, Lord Claybourne, but—”

“But you are not the polite kind,” he interrupted, his eyes dancing with provocative humor.

“No I am not!”

She could see Tess's brow furrow at her terse reply. Lily had little patience for the social niceties, but she was never overtly
rude.
She wasn't certain how to deal with a seductive nobleman showing her such marked attention, either.