Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (12 page)

He was still set on winning their war of wills, of course, yet he wanted more than her grudging submission. He was determined to turn her cool contempt to burning hunger.

Perhaps it was best, Damien acknowledged, his eyes appraising her thoughtfully, to let events unfold in their natural course, to woo her until she lost her wariness of him.

It was tantalizing to contemplate her surrender. It would be a pleasure, showing her passion. Teaching her to desire and to express that desire

Yet a cardinal rule of seduction, Damien reminded himself, was not to overstay one’s welcome. As much as he regretted terminating this intimate interlude, he’d been here long enough for one evening.

With reluctance, he rose to his feet and moved to stand before her. “I shall go now, sweeting, and permit you to rest. I hope you will invite me to return.”

Her look of surprise was quickly masked as she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I imagine you are free to come and go as you please, my lord. This is your house, after all. But I shall not await your arrival with bated breath.”

He flashed a slow, wicked grin. “I look forward to the day when you give me an entirely different response.”

Deliberately then, he reached out and brushed a finger lingeringly across her cheek, as much to fulfill his need for physical expression as to accustom her to his touch.

The spark that flared between them at even that light contact shocked her more than it did him. Her midnight eyes held a startlement in their luminous depths that pleased him immensely.

And with that small victory, Damien knew he would have to be content.

At least for now.

His plan for her seduction proceeded apace, with ample opportunities for intimacy. He spent some part of each day in her company, dining with her each evening and occasionally joining her afternoon visits in the gardens with his sister.

The nurse-midwife with the healing hands arrived from Kent shortly and took over Olivia’s physical therapeutic activity, which left Vanessa with unexpected time to herself.

She began to ride almost daily, exploring the beautiful estate and the surrounding countryside, attended by a groom. Once or twice she made excursions into the village of Alcester to purchase some trifles and trinkets to entertain Olivia. The most enjoyable rides, however, were the rare occasions when Damien accompanied her.

She made free use of his library, which soon became her favorite refuge in the house. The room’s decor was sumptuous—Aubusson carpets, rich wood paneling, and gilded, frescoed ceilings—but it was the treasure of leather-bound volumes lining the walls that drew her. Vanessa spent hours curled up on the window seat overlooking the rose gardens, lost in pleasure.

When she wrote letters home to her mother and sisters, she took care to mention Lord Sinclair sparingly, so as to maintain the pretense that she’d been hired to provide company for his sister. Only Aubrey knew the truth about her role as Lord Sin’s mistress.

She had argued vehemently with her brother before she left, since Aubrey had balked upon realizing the lengths to which she would have to go in order to have his debts canceled. She hadn’t spared his sensibilities, for she wanted him to clearly understand the burden he’d placed on her with his reckless exploits. In the end she prevailed, simply because they had no other recourse.

The family, however, believed she had become companion to the incapacitated Miss Sinclair for the income—a genteel enough position for an impoverished noblewoman.

Vanessa disliked having to deceive them, and disliked even more having to deceive her charge by concealing her own connection to Aubrey. She dreaded to think of Olivia’s reaction should the truth ever come out. Yet despite the heavy press of guilt, she firmly believed she was doing far more good than harm. As wealthy as Olivia was, the lonely girl was starved for friendship, and she was touchingly grateful not to have to bear her trauma alone.

Attending her had proved a delight rather than the burden Vanessa had feared. And with the hope of possible recovery, even Olivia’s chill relationship with Damien had begun a slight thawing.

Initially there was some discussion about escorting the invalid to Bath to take advantage of the hot mineral waters there, but aside from the journey by coach being too arduous to attempt in her fragile condition, Olivia didn’t want her infirmity widely known. So instead, Damien proposed to build a special bath at Rosewood for his sister, and his mornings were occupied with the design and construction in the conservatory where his rare strains of roses were cultivated.

Much to her dismay, Vanessa discovered his absence almost as compelling as his presence, for she couldn’t banish him from her thoughts, or from her dreams. His sensual magnetism haunted her waking or sleeping.

He was a far more complex man than she had first imagined. It was only gradually, however, that she learned more about what had driven him to become the legendary Lord Sin.

One morning during her second week at Rosewood, Vanessa encountered him at the stables and with great pleasure accepted his invitation to ride. They enjoyed a brisk gallop but slowed to a more sedate pace as they returned through the park. When they came to a rise overlooking the lake, Vanessa drew a breath at the shimmering splendor.

“How beautiful,” she murmured.

“Yes, I had forgotten.” Damien sounded almost wistful as he halted his horse beside her.

“You don’t spend much time here at Rosewood, I understand.”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

“Why?” she asked curiously. “If I had a home this beautiful, I doubt I would ever wish to leave.”

“My childhood gave me an aversion to the place, I’m afraid. It holds too many unpleasant memories.”

“What sort of memories?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Instead, he slowly dismounted and stood staring off into the distance.

“My parents’ marriage was a battleground,” he said finally in a low voice. “My father became so obsessed with his mistress that he sought to divorce my mother, and she hated him for it.”

“Divorce? Isn’t securing a decree difficult?”

“He had ample grounds under English law, since she was as faithless to him as he was to her. But her family was powerful and wealthy enough to prevent him dragging her through the courts.” Damien shook his head, as if remembering. “She took a procession of lovers—primarily out of revenge, I suspect. But one day she found herself spurned by her beau in favor of a younger beauty, and their marriage turned even uglier

more bitter.”

“Fortunately for me, I went away to university and was required to return here infrequently. By the time I graduated, I’d come into a substantial inheritance and was able to make my home in London, independent of my father. He lived in the London town house, while my mother retired here to the country. They refused even to share the same house.”

Damien gave a humorless laugh. “It was something of an irony that they perished together in a carriage accident after a ball Prinny gave. It was the first time in years they had even attended the same function. I can’t say I greatly mourned their passing, to be brutally honest.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Vanessa. Sunbeams heightened the sharp clarity of his gray eyes, and she could see the pain the dark memories dredged up for him.

As if recalling himself, he shrugged and came around to help her dismount. When he set her down, she moved a few steps away, unnerved by even so casual a touch.

“That was when you assumed your sister’s guardianship?” Vanessa asked, not wishing his revelations to end.

“Yes.” Damien bent to pluck a blade of grass to chew. “I discharged my legal obligations adequately enough, but I never realized until these past few months how greatly I neglected Olivia. She had all the advantages a girl could ask for—wealth, rank, education. But she had to grow up alone. She resents me for that, I know. And I can’t really blame her. I have no excuse for my neglect, other than my complete unsuitability for raising a young lady.”

“Perhaps you should try to talk to her.”

“And what would you have me say?”

“I don’t believe she knows how much you care. You might tell her of your regrets, how unqualified you felt to be her guardian. She probably never considered you might actually be inept at something.”

Damien smiled faintly. “And you expect her to forgive me?”

“I think she will, yes. My guess is that she wants you to be a real brother to her. You’re her only family, but she’s never really known you. She’s felt intensely lonely

ignored by you, isolated from society by her straitlaced governess. Her loneliness is doubtless what allowed Olivia to be led astray—” Vanessa bit off the words “by my brother,” and instead added, “And now she feels trapped by her chair. She needs you now more than ever, Damien, even if she doesn’t see it at the moment.”

He grimaced wryly. “She most certainly doesn’t see it.”

“Have you ever simply asked her what she wants?”

“What do you mean?”

“The other day she remarked about the unfairness of being female. Men can ride out into the world in search of adventure, but girls must remain at home, waiting to be courted. And you said yourself that her home was often like a battleground. You were able to escape, but Olivia wasn’t.”

His brow furrowed with skepticism, but Vanessa suspected he took her advice quite seriously.

He was still deep in thought a short while later when he helped her remount her horse, and he seemed not to notice that Vanessa flinched at his touch. She could only chastise herself for her lack of control.

Yet it was startling how effortlessly he affected her senses and was not in the least sensible that she’d begun to crave his company.

She found herself eagerly anticipating his nightly visits and the roses he brought her, each a different hue and size, from tiny, delicate buds of yellow, to lush, ripe blooms of palest pink, to elegant blossoms of wine red.

Those midnight’tęte-ŕ-tętes were ripe with sensual intimacy, even though he rarely physically touched her.

A few nights later they sat as usual before the fireplace, although Damien had lit a candle to augment the waning moonlight. He sipped brandy while Vanessa buried her nose in this evening’s rose, which was pure ivory.

“At this rate,” she murmured, “you won’t have a single bloom left in your gardens.”

“I doubt there is any danger of depleting my gardens just yet,” Damien responded wryly, his half-smile lavish with the devastating charm she had come to expect from him.

No doubt that sinful smile had served only to heighten his reputation for wickedness, Vanessa surmised.

“How did you come to be known as Lord Sin?” she asked curiously.

His answer surprised her by being unexpectedly thought-fill. “I suppose I was following in my father’s footsteps. I was a wild young blood, with no one to curb my excesses or set limits. And London held a treasure trove of forbidden delights for a green youth.”

“And later, when you grew older? You were no longer a youth when you established the Hellfire League.”

Damien shrugged. “A gentleman must have some diversions. When it was new, the League provided an excellent remedy for ennui.”

“And now?”

“The novelty has long since worn off, I’m afraid.”

Silence fell between them while they both became lost in thought. Vanessa suspected Damien suffered from much the same complaint as her brother—too much license and too little serious occupation. Her late husband, too, had turned to gaming and wenching to fill his time, especially in London, where the opportunities for vice and iniquity were so much greater.

“I don’t much care for London,” she remarked, changing the subject a little.

“No?”

“It holds

unpleasant memories for me. Most of my marriage was spent there. And I became a widow there.” She shuddered, recalling that terrible time. “I remember that day so vividly. A friend of my husband’s came to tell me Roger had been killed, and then his body was brought home

The time afterward is a blur, though. Thankfully my brother was there to support me. He took care of the details of my husband’s estate, dealt with the tradesmen and moneylenders—” With a start, Vanessa recollected what she was saying. “I’m sorry, I agreed not to talk about Aubrey.”

“Surely your memories of London aren’t all bad,” Damien said, ignoring her slip.

“Not all. I might have enjoyed it under different circumstances.”

“I wager I could have shown you a more pleasurable side of the city.”

She smiled. “I doubt I’m licentious enough to qualify for entry into your realm.”

He cocked his head, surveying her skeptically. “Have you never wanted to do anything wicked?”

“Perhaps, although my definition of wicked and yours are entirely different matters. There were any number of times when I was sorely tempted to flout society’s conventions. I remember a certain ball when the Duchess of Salford made a particularly vindictive remark

I nearly threw my cup of rack punch in her face.”

“That is wicked indeed.” He gave her that soft fallen-angel smile that could ensnare a woman’s heart.

She flushed and averted her gaze, staring into the fire. “Why do I always tell you such personal things?”

“Because I tend not to be judgmental, perhaps?”

It was true, Vanessa realized. She never felt as if he was sitting in judgment of her.

“In any case,” Damien added lightly, “turnabout is fair play. You’ve made me bare my soul often enough.”

Yet it wasn’t simply that the intimate atmosphere of their midnight exchanges lent itself to confession, Vanessa suspected. Lord Sinclair was deliberately trying to draw her out, to learn her secrets so that he might better lure her to his bed.

His strategy was succeeding, at least in part. She had lost her intense wariness of him. And yet she found it harder to maintain an air of composure when he was near. He could make her quiver with a glance, render her breathless with a simple touch.

Perhaps it was her dread of what was to come that so unnerved her. Damien had been exceedingly patient with her reticence, not demanding so much as a kiss from her. Vanessa felt certain, however, that the situation couldn’t remain that way. Before long he would require her to become his mistress in truth.