Anne Barbour (10 page)

She gestured to the footmen standing by, who came forward hesitantly.

The next moment, despite Lady Beckett's faint protests and disapproving stares from some of the older guests, the young gentlemen set to work with vigor, applauded by the young ladies. The footmen fell to. Resigned, Eden took her place at the piano. Zoë curtsied roguishly before Seth.

"Will you stand up with me, Mr. Lindow? I vow, as our guest, I believe it must be your duty."

Seth surveyed her with a forced tolerance, and his smile held only a bored amusement. "Oh, I think not. Miss Zoë. I should be slain by the glares of every young man here, and I'm sure you do not wish to disappoint your ardent admirers. In addition, I think, rather, that my duty lies in assisting Miss Beckett. She will require someone to turn pages for her." With an avuncular smile, he lifted her gloved fingers to his lips in a practiced movement and placed her hand in that of one of the young sprigs hovering nearby.

"Oh!" cried Zoë with an indignant gasp. The next moment, she turned the moment to her advantage by smiling radiantly. "How very gallant of you, Mr. Lindow, to save me from the embarrassment of turning away so many claimants to my hand."

Seth watched for a moment as Zoë made a charming show of accepting her partner for the first set, then he turned away to join Eden at the piano.

"Zoë sometimes allows herself to be carried away by her enthusiasm," murmured Eden awkwardly as she settled herself on the stool.

"Indeed," replied Seth coolly. "Sisters can be the very devil, can they not? I recall the antics of my own at that age." He sifted through the music piled on a table near the instrument and made several selections, one of which he placed on the music rack for Eden's inspection. Eden nodded and began to play.

Seth remained at her side for the next hour. That he was supremely content to do so, caused him no little surprise, as did the realization that he garnered pleasure in watching her strong, supple fingers move over the keys. He found her scent—a blend of flowers with something a little spicier, he thought—almost as intoxicating as the glass of wine he held in his hand. He marveled at the grace of her slender neck as it bent over the keys.

Good God, he reflected at length, he was becoming jug-bitten. Abruptly, he moved away from the piano, and Eden looked up quickly.

"My!" she exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "I believe we have indulged the youngsters sufficiently." She finished her song with a flourish and rose from the stool. Overriding cries of disappointment from the dancers, she declared the impromptu hop at an end and signaled Horsely to bring in the tea table.

After another hour of tea and other refreshments, the guests began to take their leave, and at last, yawning behind their hands, the Becketts and Mr. Lindow found themselves alone in the entrance hall, the laughter of the last guests sounding as the front door closed behind them.

"Well, I'm for bed," declared Lord Beckett, lumbering toward the stairs. He gave his arm to his wife. "A successful evening, I think. Lady
B., don't you?"

"Oh, yes," interposed Zoë. "Everyone admired my gown." Here, she cast a sidelong glance at her papa. "Freddie Barnstaple is on the verge of proposing, I think, although I have no intention of accepting him. As though I would marry the son of a mere squire." She laughed merrily. Bestowing noisy kisses on her parents' cheeks, she scampered up the stairs.

As Lord Beckett and Lady Beckett began their own journey upward, Eden moved to follow them, but was stayed as Seth laid a hand on her arm.

"I wonder if I might trouble you for a moment," he said. "I seem to have misplaced one of my cuff links, and I think I may have dropped it in your studio. Would you mind unlocking the door to your sanctum so that I might look for it? We can wait until tomorrow, of course," he added. "I just thought that, while it is still in my head. . . They were a gift from my mother... that is, the duchess ... and I'd hate to lose them."

"Of course," responded Eden. She picked up two of the candles set on a table near the stairway, lit for the purpose of guiding the family to their beds. Handing one to Seth, she started up the stairs. "I'm sure it will take only a moment."

Upon entering her studio, Eden turned questioningly to Seth. "Do you think you might have dropped your cuff link near where you were sitting?"

"Undoubtedly." Seth holding his candle high, perused the chair where he had posed for Eden, and the floor around it. When this produced no results, he set the candle down and lifted the cushion. Peering into the depths of the chair's upholstery, he dug his hands into the seams between its back and the cushion, again without success.

Eden, meanwhile, moved to the table where he had tossed his coat. A search of the floor proved a failure. Eden rose from her knees and glanced around helplessly.

"I can't think where else to look," she said helplessly. "I believe we'd best come back in the morning. Perhaps in the light of day it will turn up."

Seth, clambering to his feet from where he had been examining the floor near the chair, brushed the knees of his breeches. "Yes, I expect you're right," he sighed. "Or no—wait." Once more he lifted the candle. "I think I see something—glittering. See? There."

Hurrying to him, Eden followed the direction of his pointing finger. "N-no, I don't—Oh! yes, there in that crack." She bent for a closer look, as did Seth, and it soon became apparent that the cuff link had fallen into a gap in the floorboards, wedging itself behind a nail that had worked itself loose from its original position.

Eden caught up a palette knife from the table near her easel, and kneeling on the floor, attempted to pry the little piece of jewelry from its hiding place. Her efforts were to no avail, nor were Seth's when he sank beside her and removed the knife from Eden's fingers. At length, he sank back on his heels.

"Whew, it's really stuck." He leaned forward again. "However—" He glanced around and helped himself to another palette knife. "I think with a bit of pressure ... Yes, by pushing against it, I can move the nail with the point of the knife. While I do that, if you will attempt to pry the cuff link from its place, perhaps we can grasp it."

"Right." Bending close to Seth, Eden watched as he moved the nail ever so slightly to one side. Then, with the point of the knife, she eased the cuff link forward, until with a clatter, it popped from the crack in the floor.

"There!" she exclaimed, scooping it up. "Success at last!"

She slid it into Seth's waiting palm, becoming aware as she did so of their proximity. Goodness, she was closeted in alarming intimacy with a man who was a virtual stranger—sprawled like a hoyden on the floor and pressed close against him.

She struggled to rise, but made the tactical error of glancing up at him. His eyes, hooded and mysterious, were more compelling than ever. His gaze seemed to penetrate her innermost being, and was lit with more than just the candle flame. She trembled, mesmerized, as his hand lifted to brush a tendril of hair from her cheek. He bent his head. He was going to kiss her! The knowledge washed over her like warm rain, but she seemed unable to so much as turn her head.

When his mouth descended on hers, she was shocked at the response that seemed to sizzle in her very nerve endings. His lips were warm and firm, and his touch ignited a fire that swept through her. She felt she might be consumed, and her blood sang in her veins. She sank backward in his embrace, until she felt the polished surface of the floor against her body. She realized she was completely prone beneath him. She should have been appalled, but her only thought was to press closer to him, twining her fingers into the crisp curls that lay against his collar.

His kiss deepened, and he shifted so that one arm lifted her head against his. The other cradled her face for a moment before moving down the curve of her body. She thought she might die of pleasure and the desire to know more of the chaotic, heretofore unknown emotions that surged within her.

From a distance, she heard a soft moan. It was only when she realized that the voice had emerged from her own throat that she came to herself and pulled away, horrified.

No, not horrified—or at least not by what had just happened. It was her loss of control that terrified her. His embrace had seemed too right to be regretted. She had fit against him as though she had been created for just that purpose. Once again she had felt the sensation of familiarity, as though her treasonous body had recognized his touch and welcomed it.

Seth, too, had scrambled to a sitting position. He rose to his feet and, putting out a hand, assisted Eden to hers.

"I must apologize." His voice was harsh. "It is not my custom to ... to assault gently bred ladies. I... I don't know what possessed me. I don't..."

Eden paused in the act of restoring her hair and clothing to order. She gazed straightly at him. "Please, Mr. Lindow. You did not assault me—or, at least, if you did, I must confess to being a willing participant. It is not my habit to indulge in dalliance." She almost laughed. She had never been kissed in such a manner in her life! "But, I cannot deny that I found it pleasurable."

She felt heat rise to her cheeks as Seth's brows lifted. "I am trying to dredge up some shred of maidenly outrage here, but I must confess I feel no shame. A kiss is, after all, not an occasion of sin. At least, I don't think it is," she concluded earnestly. She gazed at Seth, searching for confirmation, but he merely nodded bemusedly, and then, in some confusion, shook his head.

"You are not unattractive, Mr. Lindow," she continued, "and I do not imagine I am the first woman to succumb—
begin
to succumb—to your charm, but—"

Seth's bark of laughter interrupted her. "Charm? I've never been accused of possessing so much as an ounce of charm, Miss Beckett."

Eden merely smiled faintly. "Be that as it may, Mr. Lindow, I am not made of wood. I enjoyed our ... little interlude ... but it shall not happen again. I am not a wanton. Therefore, I think it would be best if we were simply to forget what just happened, chalking it up to experience."

Picking up the two candles again, she handed one to Seth and moved toward the door, gesturing to him to follow. She locked the door behind them and turned to him once more.

"I shall bid you good night, Mr. Lindow."

Turning on her heel, she walked smoothly away, leaving Seth to gaze after the straight, slim back vanishing into the darkness of the corridor.

Chapter Eight

What just happened here? Seth wondered dazedly. Had he actually embraced—and kissed for some duration—a gently bred maiden? He had never behaved so in his life. He knew well that the daughters of the Polite World were off-limits to him, and up till now this fact had caused him not a single pang. Yes, he might engage in dalliance with those who sought illicit release from their marriages of convenience, or cared so little for the conventions that their names had become bywords for scandal. When one made advances to a maiden of the
ton,
one had by God better be prepared to marry her. Such an outcome was, of course, impossible for him. He had heard stories of persons of low birth marrying into the peerage, but—he smiled sardonically—never the son of an army sergeant. For an instant, an image of raven curls and sparkling black eyes rose before him, only to be firmly suppressed as it had for so many years. In any case, he told himself firmly, marriage for himself was the last thing on his mind.

What, then, had possessed him to gather Miss Eden Beckett in his arms and kiss her with a passion he had not known existed within him? To be sure, they had been caught together in a scene of unusual intimacy. Their candles had bathed them in a warm, secluded pool of light in a room that, for all intents and purposes, might have separated them from the rest of the house by a hundred miles. He had found himself in such situations before, however, and felt not the slightest inclination to indulge in illicit behavior. Their search for the cuff link had, of course, brought him into an unexpectedly close proximity with Eden, but who could have foretold the effect her scent would have on him, or the candlelight gleaming in her hair and caressing the creamy curve of her breast?

He was astonished at the quiver of response that had shuddered through her at his kiss. It had nearly driven him out of his senses. Certainly, he'd been mad enough not to care that he was compromising a gently bred female. He'd wanted only to press the full length of her slender body into his, to drink in the softness of her lips and to ... He paused, finding it necessary to physically steady himself against a piece of statuary.

And what about Eden? She had pulled away from the embrace—eventually—but she had exhibited none of the indignation he might have expected. Indeed, her demeanor was surprisingly matter-of-fact. She had even admitted a certain enjoyment at their encounter. Was she, then, one of the wild ones? Such a delineation scarcely seemed to fit her character.

No, it was as though she had been as taken aback as he, and was trying to analyze the scene honestly. Could she possibly be that rarity, a woman who sought to look objectively at life's circumstances? She had said the incident must not be repeated. There, he fully agreed with her. He had no desire to find himself on the business end of her father's horsewhip.

Lord, the sooner he got back to London, the better.

* * * *

Eden walked resolutely until she was sure she was out of sight and sound of Seth Lindow. Then, picking up her skirts in one hand and clutching her candle in the other, she began to run and did not stop until she had reached the sanctuary of her bedchamber. She blew out the candle and flung herself on her bed.

Good God, what had possessed her? She had embarked on a midnight quest with a stranger and then allowed him to kiss and caress her as he might a flirtatious housemaid. To make matters worse, she had enjoyed the whole thing! Lord, his mouth on hers had set her aflame, and she had writhed against him like a mink in heat. What kind of woman was she? She had always thought of herself as cool and reasonably self-possessed. She had never regretted the fact that she was not the sort to inflame a man's passions, particularly since she had never met a man whose attention she desired.