An Artful Seduction (19 page)

Placing a knee on the settee he lowered himself atop her. The feel of skin against skin set her aflame. Then she felt the tip of his rock-hard shaft slide over her aching flesh. She instinctively arched her hips.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I want to go slow. Make this good for you.”

Slow? She was too far gone and desperate for what he could give her. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, until she was wild with need. Her nails dug into his buttocks, urging him on until he groaned in pure male satisfaction and thrust deep. She cried out against his neck.

He immediately stilled, hot and throbbing inside her. His body invaded hers as his gaze seemed to penetrate her private thoughts.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He eased himself slowly out of her body. She thought he meant to leave her, but then he slid back inside at a deliciously slow pace. The possessive fullness was still there, but so was the pleasure. He increased his tempo and her hips rose of their own accord to meet his. She gripped his shoulders, watched his beautiful face through half-closed eyes.

Then he reached down between their bodies to stroke her sensitive bud and she shivered. Her body took over and she lost all thought but that of pleasure. Her climax built to a crest as he kept up his steady, powerful rhythm. Passion rose in her like the hottest fire, setting her body ablaze. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she rode the wave until she cried out as she was roused to the peak of desire, then hurled beyond into ecstasy.

His head fell forward, his breathing labored. Once, twice more he thrust within her, and then he stiffened and withdrew from her body as his seed spurted across her belly.

Eliza held him to her, their breathing labored. His breath warmed her cheek and she stroked his back. Love coursed through her and she knew what had transpired between them was an earth-shattering experience and she’d never feel the same for another man.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Grayson rolled to the side of the settee, careful not to crush Eliza beneath his weight. As his body recovered from an explosive climax, he struggled to get his equally ravaging thoughts under control.

Never had he experienced such great sexual satisfaction. Not with Leticia or his prior liaisons.

Only with Eliza Somerton.

And she had been a virgin.

“You’re beautiful in your passion,” he said gruffly.

She blushed and he found it arousing. His eyes were drawn to her magnificent breasts. The strawberry tips made his mouth water to taste her. His fascination was far from over.

He’d just taken her virginity. And damn if he didn’t want her again.

He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her. Her lids fluttered and her breathing was slow and easy. He drew his fingers down the smooth skin of her arm, unable to keep from touching her.

“Stay the night with me,” he said.

“I cannot. My sisters will worry.”

“Next time, then—”

A rap on the door stopped him short. Grayson scowled. He’d left strict instructions that they not be disturbed after dessert was served.

He quickly donned his trousers and cracked the door to see Hutchins. The butler was clearly nervous and shifted from side to side.

“What is it?” Grayson asked.

“Lady Sara is asking for you, my lord.”

“Sara? My sister is supposed to be spending the night at a friend’s home.”

“She has returned early and is in the kitchen eating scones with Cook,” Hutchins said.

Grayson let out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”

Damn.
He had arranged it so that Sara would not be home. Did she have a spat with her friend?

His attention returned to Eliza. “I’m sorry. Sara was excited to spend time with her former school friend, Miss Abigail Evers, the girl she saw when we all went to Gunter’s.”

“I remember.” Eliza rose and retrieved her dress. She bent over as she slid the garment up her legs, giving him a delectable view of her derriere. Desire pumped through his veins.

“Thank you for an unforgettable evening,” she said over her shoulder.

That was it? She was dismissing him?

If she thought it was over between them she was mistaken. “Eliza—”

She smiled at him. “Please go see to Sara. She mustn’t know of my presence. Meanwhile, I’ll wait here.”

…

Eliza paced the gallery for a full five minutes after Grayson departed. His lovemaking had been fiercely passionate and had touched her soul. More amazingly, he’d admitted that he no longer judged her for her father’s criminal past. He saw her for who she strived to be—not the eldest daughter who inherited Jonathan Miller’s morals and legacy.

She wished they had met under different circumstances. If her father had never turned into a criminal and remained a legitimate painter, perhaps she would have met Grayson at a Royal Academy exhibition. Or an art gallery. Or even a ball. What if they had a chance at a future?

Cease daydreaming,
she chided herself. She should be grateful she’d experienced him for one night, however brief.

A sickening feeling of despair struck her. After Amelia’s painting was returned, there was no need to see him again.

She breathed heavily. Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. Sara’s interruption may have been for the best. Common sense dictated that Eliza should leave before they shared more intimacy that put her heart at perilous risk. Taking deep gulps of air, she garnered the strength to search for her reticule.

Footsteps sounded outside the room, and Grayson opened the door and slipped inside. “Sara’s fine. Her friend has a cold, and Sara left so that she may recover. I apologize for the interruption to our evening.”

“I’m glad nothing is amiss with your sister,” Eliza said.

Grayson’s eyes raked her and lowered to the reticule clenched in her fist.

“You’re leaving,” he said simply.

“I must.”

“Stay with me. I can offer you so much.” His voice was low, husky.

A knot rose in her throat. What was he saying? How could she stay with him? “I would never leave my sisters.”

“That’s not what I mean. We can still be together.”

Her heart pounded so loud she was certain he could hear it. “You mean as lovers.”

“Yes.”

His eyes held hers, earnest and hot. She shivered at the scorching heat.

Could she do it? Could she become his mistress? Could she stay with him while duty required he marry a proper lady of his station?

A woman like Lady Kinsdale.

Eliza thought of Lady Kinsdale’s cruel, but truthful words:
He’ll never offer you marriage. You must know you are just a bit of bed sport to him.

She already feared losing her heart to Grayson. Could she be his lover and further explore her sensual side without risk?

The answer was a resounding no.

Then there was the issue of her parent. Grayson may desire her as his mistress, but what about his vows for justice? Did he still want her father’s neck in a noose? Did Grayson care enough about her to let the past go?

“What about my father?”

He stiffened. “What about him?”

“Let there be honesty between us. Do you still want to find Jonathan Miller and see him tried for his crimes?”

“What does that have to do with us?” he said tersely.

“Everything. I have come to suspect that finding my father was your utmost concern all along. But I also believed that you truly wanted to find the Rembrandt and that you do not wish me harm.”

“I don’t wish you harm,” he insisted.

“But my father?”

Dark eyes stared down at her, probing her soul. “It’s true I’ve hunted Jonathan Miller for years and have a burning need for justice. But you must understand that others came to me for aid as well. They lost fortunes and I tried to help them, promised them justice, but Miller slipped through my fingers time and time again.”

At the simmering anger in his tone, a sudden disturbing thought came to her. “Did your plans for vengeance against Jonathan Miller include seducing his daughter?”

His expression was grim. “No. That’s not what tonight was about. What happened here had nothing to do with anyone but us. Only us.” At her dubious look, he shook his head and stepped forward. “How else can I convince you?”

She jumped back, knowing if he touched her, she’d be lost. “Convince me? You ask me to become your mistress, then admit that you will continue to hunt my father and send him to the gallows? How can you be so selfish?”

“Don’t tell me that you have feelings for the man who abandoned you and your sisters to struggle to survive?” he said, a cold edge to his voice.

She listened with rising dismay. “Despite everything, he is still my father. You must also know there is a chance he may identify us as his daughters if he is arrested. And I must think of Amelia and Chloe. Amelia fears becoming like him and if he’s captured and tried, it will cause her horrible inner turmoil. Chloe misses him terribly and only has fond memories of him. It’s not as simple as you believe, and I can no longer be certain of your intentions. But the truth is that it no longer matters.” Despite her resolve she glanced at the settee where they’d lain in each other’s arms moments ago. “What happened tonight was a one time affair.”

She clutched her reticule tight to her side and made to step by him.

He moved so abruptly to block her path that she squealed in surprise. Gripping her upper arms, his fingers caressed her skin. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “This isn’t over between us.”

Her spine stiffened at his words and she tried to ignore the soft, rhythmic stroke of his fingers. Her heart seemed to rush to where he touched her, and a hot ache grew in her throat. “You had what you wanted. I trust you to deliver Amelia’s painting. As for your ‘gift,’” she said, motioning to the engraving on the wall, “you can keep it. Good evening, my lord.” She attempted to pull away and sweep past him a second time.

His fingers stopped caressing her skin, but he did not release his grip on her arms. He refused to move. “Eliza—”

“Please let go.”

He ignored her. “I’m not satisfied. I want you again.”

Her heart tripped clumsily behind her lungs at the primitive need in his deep voice. Her fingers ached to reach out and touch him. “There can be no second time.”

“I loved touching you. Making you come apart in my arms. You enjoyed it, too, Eliza,” he said huskily.

Her face grew warm at his erotic words and her traitorous body responded. She must not allow him speak to her that way, not after he vowed to continue on his path for vengeance.

She twisted out of his grasp and lifted her chin. “Stop. It’s over.”

Grayson’s eyes gleamed in a way that alarmed her. “I won’t allow it.”

“Arrogance does not suit you, my lord,” she said.

“It’s not arrogance when you were screaming out your pleasure, begging for more not long ago.”

Her hand cracked across his face. He froze, his eyes narrowing. For a heartbeat she feared she had pushed him too far, but then he wordlessly stepped aside.

She halted by the door. “There’s no need for you to personally deliver my sister’s painting. A messenger will suffice. It’s best if we don’t see each other again,” she said, then closed the door behind her.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next morning, Eliza rose early and went downstairs to open the shop. She made a pretense of studying the ledgers, but her mind was far away in deep thought.

She was a fool. She’d trusted Grayson when he said Father’s sins were not hers. He’d called her hard working.

Admirable.

Pain squeezed her heart. Grayson may desire her, but he wanted vengeance more.

She’d offered herself to him completely and freely…with all the pent up passion and desire she’d felt for him. Her mind burned with the memory of what he did to her body, how he made her feel. Allowing him to make love to her had taught her more about pleasure between a man and woman than she’d ever dared imagine. For as long as she’d live, she’d never forget the tantalizing caresses or the blazing passion.

She knew he could never offer marriage, but she’d foolishly thought that if they could share one rapturous night, then it would be enough to last her a lifetime. The opposite had occurred. She longed for him more fiercely than before.

There was no denying the truth. She’d fallen in love with him.

Leave it to her to want the unattainable.

She truly was a fool.

Eliza was vaguely aware of Chloe flitting about the shop, straightening a row of prints as she assisted a customer. Meanwhile, Eliza hunched on a stool behind the counter with a quill in hand scribbling in the ledger. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t concentrate, and the tiny numbers blurred before her strained eyes.

The shop’s bell chimed and a man entered carrying a large package wrapped in brown paper.

“A delivery for Mrs. Eliza Somerton,” the deliveryman announced.

Chloe glanced at Eliza over her shoulder. “What is it?”

Eliza’s heart pounded. She knew, of course.

Eliza untied the string and peeled the paper aside to reveal Amelia’s forgery of the Jan Wildens painting.

“Huntingdon returned it!” Chloe cried out. “I told you he was a man of his word. You must thank him for us.”

Eliza wrung her hands and turned away.

Chloe frowned. “What’s wrong, Liza?”

Eliza glanced at her sister. “Nothing. I’m pleased it’s finally back in our possession.”

Chloe was still staring at her. She tilted her head to one side and regarded Eliza thoughtfully. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

Fancy was too frivolous a word. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.

“It matters naught, Chloe. I fulfilled my end of the bargain, he fulfilled his. We will both move on.”

“But why does it have to end? You could marry.”

Sweet Chloe. Her fascination with males was something that had always concerned Eliza. She still believed Father had no other choice than to run and that he would return as soon as he was able.

“He’s an earl, Chloe. And I am just a shopkeeper.”

“Rubbish. True love will always find a way.”

“Members of the
ton
marry for wealth or title, and preferably both. I have neither.”

“He’s a powerful man, Liza. He doesn’t need money and he already has a title. He can do as he wishes.”

Innocent Chloe. There was no sense arguing with her.

“Where’s Amelia?” Eliza asked. “She’ll want to know that her painting has been returned.”

“She’s gone to the market and will be back shortly.”

Eliza covered the forgery and stowed it behind the counter. She wanted to burn it. She knew it was childish, but the painting had caused her so much trouble.

Not entirely true
. She never would have met Grayson if not for the forgery. Her thoughts twisted and turned. But if he’d never entered her life, she would not be feeling this much pain.

She ran her fingers down the gilt frame. She’d wait until Amelia was present to decide the fate of her work. It only seemed right.

“Tell me when Amelia returns,” Eliza said.

“Why? Where are you going?” Chloe said.

“Out.”

She needed to leave to clear her head. The shop’s walls seemed to close in on her making it difficult to breathe. She was useless with the ledgers. She couldn’t stay and pine after the loss of Grayson from her life.

She reached for her cloak and stepped outside.

The air was cold and damp as she made her way across the street toward the park. Her breath left puffs in the frigid air. Eliza inhaled the cold, felt it in her lungs. Last night’s confrontation with Grayson flitted through her mind.

She refused to be his mistress. His position in society required he marry and produce an heir to the earldom. And his driving need for revenge toward her father would always be utmost in his mind. It would always come between them.

They could never be together. Their stations in life were as clearly drawn as lines in the sand.

Then why was it so painful? She’d had what she’d wanted, hadn’t she? An incredible night with the Earl of Huntingdon. Memories to last her for many lonely nights. She’d known better than to expect more.

She reached the park. It was isolated as she knew it would be this time of year. The oak trees that would shade the walk in the summer months were barren and sleeping. She sat on a bench and pulled her cloak tight around her. A squirrel darted across the path in front of her bench.

A sound drew her attention. Almost like the scrape of booted feet on the stone path. She turned and saw nothing but a hedge of shrubs.

The wind? An animal?

Still, she had a weird sensation that she was being watched.

Her pulse quickened with unbidden excitement. Had Grayson followed her?

She scanned the park but saw nothing. She finally turned away. She must be bad off if she was imagining his presence.

She stood and quickly headed back to the shop.

…

The next day, Eliza was in the back workroom cataloging shelves of supplies as the shop’s bells chimed. She needn’t worry about seeing to any customers since Chloe was out front. But then she heard
his
voice.

“Good day, Miss Chloe.”

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Chloe said.

Eliza swept the curtain aside to see Grayson’s tall, cloaked figure. He spotted her clutching the fabric and their gazes sizzled across the room. He removed his beaver hat, and her heart immediately gave a little jump.

Eliza stepped forward, the curtain closing behind her.

“I wanted to see the painting safely delivered,” he said.

Chloe spoke first. “Thank you. Eliza will surely sleep better now.”

“Oh? Has she had difficulty?” he asked, his eyes never leaving Eliza’s face.

“Heavens, yes!” Chloe said.

“Chloe!” Eliza admonished.

Chloe’s lips curled in a mischievous smile. “If you will pardon me, Lord Huntingdon. I told Amelia I would help her with her errands,” she said as she fetched her cloak from a hook by the door and fled the shop.

Eliza stood still, a tumult of confused emotions racing through her. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to kiss him.

“Is it true that you’ve had a hard time sleeping?” he asked softly.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” He looked like he would take a step forward, then stopped. “The other night ended badly between us.”

“Badly? Is that how you would describe it?”

His expression was somber, his eyes never leaving her face. “I never meant to hurt you. I care for you, Eliza. More than any other woman I’ve ever known.”

She sucked in a breath. She wanted to believe him so badly. It was the closest he’d ever come to revealing his true feelings for her.

“It no longer matters. Our business together is at an end. I’m happy the Rembrandt is found and hope the duke keeps his promise and loans it to the museum.”

“And us?”

“There is no us. There never was,” she said sadly.

“Yes. There is. I see it in your eyes. Be my lover. You shall want for naught. A town house, a carriage, jewels. Whatever you desire shall be yours.”

Was that what he thought of her? That she could be brought and bribed?

Just like her father?

She swallowed the despair in her throat. She loved him and he saw her only as mistress material. Worse yet, he still wanted her father’s head.

He may care for her, but was it enough to change his ways? There was one last test.

“I don’t want monetary things. Instead, let your need for vengeance go so there is nothing else between us. Cease your search for my father. Forget the past,” she pled.

He was silent for so long she feared he wouldn’t answer. “I cannot.”

The words were crushing in their honesty. How unfair of fate to pair the man she loved with her dark and painful past. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done. And I shall never forget our night together.” Reaching up on tiptoe, she kissed him one last time. “Good-bye, my lord.”

She quickly stepped back, afraid he would pull her to him, and even more afraid of her response if he did.