Heiress in Love (16 page)

Constantine blinked. “You are leaving us, Aunt?” He could scarcely believe his good fortune.

“At first light!” The lady threw down her napkin and a footman leaped to service as she rose from her chair. “I must see to packing.”

Lady Arden airily waved a hand. “You must do as you see fit, Griselda. To be sure, we shall manage here without you.”

Looking suspiciously innocent, Lady Arden raised her wine glass to her lips as the older woman bustled from the room.

Constantine regarded his redoubtable relative with his brows raised. She was up to something. She always was. An inveterate matchmaker, Lady Arden had, of course, fixed her sights on him and Jane.

A beatific smile was all the response Lady Arden gave his look of inquiry. “That’s settled, then.”

“But ma’am,” said Jane, “if Lady Endicott leaves for London on the morrow, who will stay to lend me countenance? You’ll agree it’s improper for me to remain here alone with Constantine.”

“As I said, it sounds like an excellent plan.” Constantine grinned and received a cool gray glance. Damned if he hadn’t thought she’d softened a little toward him this evening, but that look told him he had a long way to go yet.

Lady Arden threw up her hands. “Of course you will not stay here alone with this rogue, my dear!
I
shall remain at Lazenby for the present. I’m sure the duke would expect it.”

“You?” said Constantine, an incredulous smile playing about his mouth. “Kick your dainty heels in the country for weeks on end in spring, of all seasons? I should like to see that.”

“I was raised in Cambridgeshire, I’ll have you know.” Lady Arden sniffed. “A few pigs and horses won’t scare me.”

“Sheep.” Jane brought her glass to her mouth to hide a smile. “We run sheep at Lazenby.”

“Well, of course you do, dear. It’s the Cotswolds, isn’t it?” Lady Arden picked up her knife and fork. “I shall be charmed to reacquaint myself with the place.”

Jane said, “Well, that’s settled, then. My thanks, ma’am. I don’t know what I should have done without you.”

The two of them bent speculative gazes upon Constantine.

Well, of course. It didn’t take a genius to guess they were in league against him. Clearly, if Lady Arden had her way—as she so often did—his days as a bachelor were numbered.

Still, he’d fought his way clear of matrimony against more numerous and determined opponents than his dinner companions. He wouldn’t concede victory yet.

He offered them a bland smile in return.

As the ladies resumed their conversation, Constantine contemplated Jane. She’d done something different with her hair tonight. It was softer, more feminine. Deep swirls of auburn-tinted tresses, caught up almost casually, as if she’d just risen from her bed. The bare swells of her breasts rose and fell gently as she breathed. Around her throat, a set of jet beads gleamed, contrasting with the whiteness of her skin.

She’d surprised him tonight. He hadn’t missed the fleeting expression of bliss on her face when she’d tasted Marthe’s cooking. He burned to put that rapture there himself, in the most intimate of ways.

The memory of that look continued to tantalize him throughout the evening. He coveted it, wanted to steal it for his own.

It shocked him, the intensity of that craving. That so cool a creature should inspire such a burning need in him. Oh, on the surface, Jane was all chilly aristocratic arrogance. He’d made a game of needling her, tapping tiny chinks in that icy façade. But tonight, he’d seen passionate depths to her that even he hadn’t suspected.

He must take care he didn’t drown in them.

*   *   *

Tonight.

Jane gripped her hands together, pacing the floor of her bedchamber in agitation.

Yes, it must be tonight. This very minute, in fact. If she didn’t do it now, her courage would fail her utterly.

She was going to kiss Constantine Black. Or rather, she would let
him
kiss
her.

Her heart pounded against her rib cage at the thought.

Why did the prospect of kissing Constantine Black terrify her? One meager kiss was not much to give in return for the chance to keep Luke. Yet, she had the stirring, uncomfortable suspicion there would be nothing at all meager about Constantine Black’s kiss.

After failing at every attempt, Jane had been at a loss to know how to persuade Constantine to take her as a wife. How did ladies ordinarily entice gentlemen to offer for them? She didn’t think he’d be swayed by her talent at needlework or her skill in managing the household accounts. The more pressing concerns of forfeiture and bankruptcy hadn’t convinced him to wed her.

Seduce him,
Cecily had said. Even if Jane hadn’t been thoroughly opposed to the idea, seducing the new baron would be futile, given his scandalous past. Constantine Black did not marry his lovers, even to save them—and himself—from disgrace.

What, then, could she do to make Constantine
want
to marry her?

Only one answer presented itself. It shocked her that she would even consider it, much less take steps to implement such a stratagem. But Luke was worth any sacrifice, even the risk of ruining her reputation.

At dinner, Jane had noticed Constantine staring at her mouth, his eyes hot with desire. Stupid as she was at reading men, even she couldn’t fail to see this as a sign. He wanted, quite desperately, to kiss her.

The most foreign and surprising thrill of power scintillated through her. She couldn’t persuade Constantine into marriage by reasoned argument or shame him into wedding her, either.

Might she
tempt
him into it? Make him so wild for her that he would marry her simply to get into her bed?

It was a bold stratagem, one she was hopelessly unqualified to employ. It was underhanded, contemptible, even. But what other course was open to her at this point?

Jane hesitated, her hand closing on the doorknob. She took a deep, shaky breath. Before doubt could creep in and corrode her resolve, she wrenched open the door and went in search of Constantine.

She found him in the muniments room, of all places, writing what appeared to be a letter in a firm, bold hand. She saw a pile of correspondence addressed in that same hand stacked by his elbow.

So he’d been attending to business since he’d excused himself after dinner. She’d expected to discover him in the library, draining the brandy decanter and brandishing a cheroot.

Jane hovered on the threshold, reluctant to break his concentration. While she debated whether to wait or obey the most craven impulse to escape, Constantine signed the letter with a flourish and looked up.

“Jane.” Slowly, he rose to his feet. “Come in.”

She found herself watching
his
lips as they formed those few syllables. The husky timbre of his voice made his words of welcome sound like an invitation to sin. Or did she imagine that, given her own wicked intentions? Her nerves thrummed with fearful anticipation.

Courage, Jane.
She must not forget that she did this for Luke.

With an effort, she lifted her chin and prepared to go ahead with her plan.

Suddenly, she realized she’d no earthly idea how to broach the subject with him. Should she try some sort of physical overture? That seemed far too bold. Perhaps she ought to wait for him to take the lead. But how would he know that she’d changed her mind? She’d spurned his advances in the garden in no uncertain terms.

His brows lifted a fraction. “Did you want something, perhaps?”

The perfect opening. She seized it. “Yes, I…” She gasped. “I want you to kiss me,” she blurted out.

Heat surged upward, filling her cheeks, scalding her ears. Her heart was having palpitations. Could one die from sheer embarrassment?

For many moments, Constantine didn’t answer. His fingertips drummed on the surface of his desk as he searched her face.

Miserably aware that she’d been as subtle as a brick, Jane choked out a hasty apology and turned to go.

“Wait.”

Jane halted, her head bowed. She didn’t dare to look at him. She waited, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. Would he grant her request despite the inept way she’d phrased it?

She closed her eyes.
I am simply no good at this.

When he spoke again, he stood directly behind her. “Don’t run away.” His tone swept over her skin like raw silk.

Jane swallowed hard, groping for her courage, but it slipped through her fingers and flitted away, eluding her grasp. She ought to have known she couldn’t handle this, couldn’t handle
him.

The warmth of Constantine’s breath stirred the curls at her nape. “Turn around and look at me,” he commanded.

She obeyed him. Her eyelids seemed weighted. She couldn’t raise her gaze past his mouth. A mouth that had flattened to a hard, uncompromising line.

Shaken, she did look up then. His eyes no longer held an appreciative glow. They glittered, hard as emeralds. “This is a ploy, isn’t it?” he said. “You’ve come here to offer your kisses like some sort of virgin sacrifice. Haven’t you, Jane?”

Alarm rocketed through her. “No! Of course n—”

“Just how far would you go to get my ring on your finger?” His regard was direct and unfettered. It raked her body, lingering at her breasts.

Inwardly, she shuddered, but not with revulsion.

“Believe me,” he said, “you won’t succeed.”

She knew Constantine Black was shameless. He was a scoundrel of the first order. He’d slaked his lust on an innocent girl, then refused to marry her. He would mete out the same treatment to her.

If she allowed it.

The thought made her spine stiffen. Who was he to judge her actions? At least
her
motives were pure.

And she couldn’t afford to back down now.

Recalling how he’d reacted when she’d licked her lips at the dinner table, Jane quickly ran her tongue over them. She hoped she didn’t look foolish.

His muttered obscenity should have shocked her, but triumph lifted her spirits. Men like Constantine were slaves to their passions, weren’t they? All she needed to do was present him with temptation and his male urges would do the rest.

Her heart thumping in her throat, she closed the distance between them with one, deliberate step.

Quick as thought, he gripped her chin and tilted her head up so their gazes clashed.

“Don’t try it.” His thumb stroked along her lower lip, sending a dart of heat to quiver in her loins. “I won’t stop at ravishing that pretty mouth of yours.”

A challenge shimmered in the air between them.

Jane struggled to clear her brain. She knew he wouldn’t force himself on her. That being so, his threat was an empty one, wasn’t it? He couldn’t
make
her want more than kisses. She’d call a halt if he moved beyond the safety of a chaste embrace.

So what did she have to fear? His powers of persuasion? Or her own weakness?

As she stared up at him, not moving, Constantine’s features darkened with intent. His perfectly sculpted lips parted. Curiosity, excitement, and strongest of all, fear, jangled inside as he bent toward her. He moved so slowly that she marked a dozen panicked heartbeats before she felt the whisper of his breath on her lips.

The heat of his body surrounded her; his presence bound her with a sensual spell. The only parts of him that touched her were his breath and the finger and thumb that tilted her chin. Yet, she felt panicky and trapped.

As his mouth crushed down on hers, the panic rose up to choke her. Fear shuddered through her body. She
couldn’t
! Jerking her head away with a strangled cry, Jane whirled on her heel and fled.

*   *   *

Later, Constantine stood on the terrace outside the library, indulging in the vice that had so offended his hostess the first time they’d met.

The night was so dark as to be almost black. He could make out very little of the landscape through the persistent drizzle. A damp wind blew; the air was chill. He drew on his cigarillo.
Ah, the joys of spring.

The London Season would soon be in full flight. Strange. He didn’t miss Town with its variety and its diversions. His cronies would be trawling the seas of sharp-eyed ladies and accommodating courtesans about now, selecting this Season’s mistress or that night’s lover, or pursuing random, anonymous encounters in the Haymarket and Covent Garden.

No, he didn’t miss all that. But he’d been celibate too long for a man of his temperament. Which made his rejection of Jane’s little gambit tonight distinctly unsettling. At another time, with another woman, he would have accepted what little she offered, murmured sweet reassurance as he beguiled her into giving him everything he desired. He would not—most definitely
not
—have warned her off.

He thought of Jane with her dangerous schemes and where they might lead and took a contemplative drag of smoke.