Pure Temptation (6 page)

Moira held her breath as she felt the heated path of his gaze follow his hand. Her breasts tingled beneath the intensity of his look and intimate caress, and a spark of desire settled in her center and began to grow as she reacted to his touch. She felt her nipple harden against his palm and drew back in alarm.

“Stop it!”

Jack sighed regretfully and removed his hand. “You’re right. As much as I’d like to continue this, I fear you’re not up to it yet. Besides, I’d rather not get involved intimately. ’Tis best we keep this on a purely impersonal level. At least until we find you a husband. After you’re safely wed, we can explore this attraction we have for one another more fully.”

“You think I’d be unfaithful?” Moira gasped in outrage.

“What I think doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not attracted to you. You’re a profligate rake and scoundrel. I find little about you to admire.”

“Don’t you?” he drawled lazily.

Jack couldn’t ignore the challenge. Reaching out, he
pulled her close and kissed her long and thoroughly, thrusting his tongue past her open lips, plunging her into sweet perdition. He tasted spicy and hot and delicious. Before she realized what she was doing, she began kissing him back.

Jack was enjoying the kiss too much. He pulled away with effort. The pure wonder of Moira’s response inflamed him beyond repair. Mesmerized, he watched the pulse throbbing in her white throat and fought the urge to place his lips there.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” His voice held a strange hoarseness and he cleared his throat noisily. “I think we’ve conversed enough for one day. You’re tired. You should rest and get your strength back. You’ll need it when I introduce you to society. I predict you’ll be an instant success. An original. We’ll have you married in no time. Tomorrow we’ll discuss current events and literature. A woman should know just how far to go before a suitor is turned off by her intelligence.”

Moira turned and fled. It was a long, long time before breath and awareness returned. By that time she was safely in her chamber, where Jack’s magnetic presence could not tempt her. Jack Graystoke was too intense, too bold, too handsome. She was no match for him.

During the following days, Moira was put through a test of sorts by Jack and Lord Fenwick. She was brought abreast of current affairs, practiced pouring tea, grilled on etiquette and proper behavior with the ton. To Jack’s delight, he found her well-versed on a variety of subjects and intelligent enough to pick up quickly on those she was not familiar with.

During this period, a dressmaker had been engaged to sew Moira a complete wardrobe. Two day dresses arrived within a week, with the promise of three ball gowns to be delivered in time for Moira’s introduction into society. The day dresses were lovelier than any Moira had ever owned, and
she wondered where Jack got the money to pay for them. She hoped it wasn’t from Lady Victoria.

To Moira’s vast relief, she and Jack were seldom alone. If Spencer Fenwick wasn’t with them, either Pettibone or Jilly was in attendance. Two weeks after she arrived at Graystoke Manor, Jack announced that she was ready for dancing lessons. When Moira arrived in the drawing room for the first lesson, she was surprised to see Pettibone seated at the out-of-tune pianoforte and the rug rolled back.

The first lesson was a disaster. With Jack’s strong arms around her and the heat of his body assaulting her, Moira couldn’t concentrate on the steps. Even when the dance steps parted them, she could still feel the warmth where his hands had rested on her body. When he introduced her to the waltz, she became so rattled that Jack threw up his hands in despair.

“What’s gotten into you, Moira? A graceful creature like you should be able to pick up the steps without difficulty.”

“Don’t scold her, Jack,” Spence chided. “Moira’s done better than either of us has a right to expect. She’s a country girl, not gentry.”

Jack stared at Moira, seeing much more than a simple country girl. Her beauty outshone the brightest star, and her intelligence was as keen as his. Moira puzzled him. She was like no poor farmer’s daughter he had ever seen. He was convinced she could hold her own with any highborn lady of his acquaintance. Moira was an enigma, Jack decided, and he envied her former lovers.

Moira’s heart beat a rapid tattoo as Jack continued to stare at her. What was he thinking? she wondered. Wasn’t she proving amusing enough? The thought that he was grooming her for another man made her strangely uncomfortable.

“Can we continue tomorrow?” she asked, shaken by her thoughts. “I’ve had enough lessons for one day.”

“Of course,” Jack agreed, “we’ll continue tomorrow. Dancing will be easier once the cast is removed from your arm.”

He watched her walk away, struck anew by her beauty. It occurred to him that he should be grateful to Lady Amelia for throwing Moira into his path. He was enjoying this little charade immensely. Spence’s two thousand pounds were as good as in his pocket.

“You seem quite taken with Moira,” Spence said, watching Jack closely. “Beware, Jack, the lady has a way about her.”

Dragging his thoughts back to his friend, Jack sent Spence an amused look. “Don’t worry about me, Spence. Moira represents two thousand pounds, the exact amount you’ll owe me when she bags a rich husband. She will, you know. With our backing and her natural beauty, how can she miss?”

“I fear you may be right.” Spence heaved a regretful sigh. “I was counting on those grays. They’d look magnificent hitched to my coach. But she isn’t engaged yet, old boy. And if you aren’t careful, she might bag
you.”

Strangely uncomfortable with that remark, Jack released a nervous laugh. “I need to marry money, not some little Irish baggage who’s had too many lovers for my taste.”

“You’re sure of that? Has she told you she’s had lovers? She looks so innocent.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Spence. I don’t want her prospective suitors questioning her innocence, or lack of it. Moira admitted she was meeting a lover the night I struck her down.”

Spence’s disappointment was obvious. “Ah, well, so much for fantasies. I’d imagined many different scenarios, most involving our timely rescue of a damsel in distress.”

“You’re a dreamer, Spence.” Jack’s voice held a hard edge that made his friend fondly recall the Black Jack of old. “We both knew what Moira was from the beginning and were
willing to play out our little game. We’re doing this for amusement, remember, and to rid me of an unwanted responsibility. After all, it
was
my carriage that ran her down.”

He should have known Jack wouldn’t allow a woman to become important to him, Spence reflected upon hearing Jack’s remarks concerning Moira. Still, he couldn’t help thinking there was more between Jack and Moira than met the eye. The air around them vibrated with awareness when they were together. Spence could almost feel the tension between them. He thought this whole business was growing more interesting by the minute and couldn’t wait for the final outcome.

“Are you sure you’re not attracted to Moira?” Spence wanted to know.

“I’m a man, Spence. Does that answer your question? What man wouldn’t be? But I’m not about to lose my head over her.”

Jack’s answer seemed to satisfy Spence. “When do you think Moira will be ready to enter into society?”

“By the time the cast is removed from her arm, she should be groomed and ready to meet the ton. I think the Griswald rout will be a perfect time to bring her out. I received my invitation just yesterday.”

“Have you proposed to Lady Victoria yet?”

Jack shifted uneasily, recalling the countless excuses he’d given Victoria lately to explain his inattention. She hadn’t been happy about it, especially after he failed to show up at her house after the Whitcomb rout. In fact, Jack found himself avoiding her whenever possible.

“Not yet, but soon. I’m aiming for a spring wedding.”

“Invite me to the ceremony,” Spence said. “Well, I must be off. Will I see you tonight at White’s?”

“Perhaps,” Jack said noncommittally. He wasn’t going to admit to Spence that gaming no longer held the same appeal for him it previously had. Nor did drinking to excess.
Lady Amelia’s appearance had turned his life awry, and he hoped she was happy.

Two weeks later, the cast was removed from Moira’s arm. She flexed it gingerly and smiled at the doctor when no pain resulted.

“Good as new,” the doctor said, beaming. “I wouldn’t lift anything heavy for a while, though I doubt Sir Jack would allow it. I understand you’re his ward.”

Moira could tell by the doctor’s tone of voice that he didn’t believe the story they had concocted. “Aye. We’re distantly related.”

“Of course,” the doctor said without conviction. “Well, young lady, the best of luck to you. I hope you’ll have no further need of my services.”

“Kind of mouthy, ain’t he?” Jilly said once the doctor left. “He was hinting at something improper. Why, from what I’ve seen, Sir Jack has been nothing but a gentleman.”

“Thank you, Jilly, but I fear you don’t know me very well. Few people would call me a gentleman.”

Moira’s eyes widened when she saw Jack filling the doorway, looking magnificent in tight gray trousers and a black jacket molded perfectly to his broad shoulders. His powerful presence was intimidating—just the sight of him was enough to send blood pounding through her veins. He stepped away from the door and crossed the room to where Moira was sitting.

“The doctor said your arm is good as new. How does it feel?”

“Well enough,” Moira replied, flexing her healed limb.

“I’m glad.” Suddenly aware of Jilly staring curiously at them, Jack said, “You may go, Jilly, I wish to speak to your mistress in private.”

“What do you wish to say to me that demands privacy?” Moira wanted to know once Jilly was out of hearing.

“I didn’t think you wanted Jilly to know we’re not really related. Are you satisfied with your new clothes?”

“They’re lovely,” Moira admitted. “I’ve never had anything so grand.”

“Wait until you see the ball gowns. I chose styles that will be flattering to your figure and coloring. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“My dancing has improved,” Moira said, fishing for Jack’s approval.

“So it has. No one will find fault with your dancing. You’ve exceeded my fondest hopes in every way. You’ll take London by storm. I predict you’ll be married before spring.”

The warm glow from Jack’s compliments faded abruptly when Moira pictured herself married to a man she had yet to meet. A man other than Jack. Lord, where did that thought come from? She wouldn’t have a man like Jackson Graystoke if he was served to her on a silver platter. A disreputable rake like him would abandon the marriage bed before it was cold.

“Doesn’t that please you?” Jack asked, puzzled by her silence. “You’ll be able to bring your family to London. Or help them financially if they wish to remain in Ireland.”

“Of course that pleases me,” Moira snapped. “Anything is better than being dependent on you. What about your own wedding plans? Has Lady Victoria accepted your proposal?”

Jack looked away. “I haven’t proposed yet. Been too busy grooming you for your introduction to society. I don’t anticipate any problems. Marrying money is as necessary to me as it is to you. I suppose I could ask my cousin for money, but I’m not the sort to go begging.”

“Your cousin?”

“Aye, the Duke of Ailesbury. Though we’re not close, he’s a likable sort and we respect one another. His father and my mother were siblings. Mother married beneath her, but it never bothered her. Young William is to marry soon, and I
expect an heir will follow in short order. Will and I have no other living relatives.”

“Your cousin is a duke? I didn’t know you had relatives so highly placed.”

“Titles do not impress me, nor do macaroni dandies. Young William is welcome to the dukedom; I never aspired to the title and he knows it. The title is entailed; that’s why I urged him to marry and produce an heir. I’m perfectly content with being the black sheep of the family.”

Moira’s golden eyes twinkled mischievously. “Black suits you, Sir Jack. You wear it well.”

Jack threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. “And you, Lady Moira, will set London on its ear with your wit and beauty. I wish…”

Moira’s attention sharpened. “What do you wish, Jack?”

He drew her to her feet and into his arms. “I wish I had been the man you were meeting that night. I wish I had been your lover.”

“I wish I had been your lover,” Jack repeated when Moira appeared dazed by his admission. “You’re pure temptation, do you know that?”

Their eyes met, and in the taut, vibrating silence that followed, Moira realized she was completely out of her element. Her body felt heavy with yearning, her heated center liquid with anticipation and throbbing with a craving she didn’t fully understand. She tried to deny the feelings Jack’s volatile presence evoked in her, but all she could think of was the searing heat of his evocative gaze and the warmth of his hard body.

When Moira tried to summon an answer, Jack’s mouth came down on hers—hard, ruthlessly compelling. All semblance of control fled and her knees went weak. An audible sigh gurgled in her throat. His mouth opened wide over hers, his tongue thrusting past her lips and teeth, drinking, tasting, withdrawing and thrusting again in imitation of what his nether parts would like to do. She felt the hardness of his loins pressing against her soft belly, felt his hands kneading her breasts, and untrammeled rapture, pure and sharp, raced through her veins. His mouth on hers felt wonderful. She had never known anything to compare with the bone-deep pleasure of his touch and taste. It was gloriously decadent.

Instinct ruled her brain as she brought her arms around his neck and sighed against his mouth. Her pleasure intensified his wild hunger and he drew her closer, filling the heat of her mouth with his taste even as he consumed hers.
When he started to drag her toward the bed, Moira’s senses quickened, warning of danger. With strength born of desperation, she pulled away from him, breathing hard, her eyes wary.

“You set me afire,” Jack confessed hoarsely. “The thought of making love to you intrigues me. When I’m with you I can think of nothing else. You’re a mystery, Moira O’Toole, a tantalizing mystery.” He fingered the locket suspended around her neck on a gold chain, wondering not for the first time why she seemed so fond of it. “Where did you get this locket? Did one of your lovers give it to you?”

“There is nothing mysterious about me, sir. And if you must know, the locket belonged to my grandmother and then to my mother. Now it is mine.”

“What are we going to do about this attraction that exists between us?” Jack asked softly, the locket forgotten as he bent to nibble at the pulse throbbing in her neck. Moira’s world spun dizzily. “Keeping our association on a strictly impersonal level is too bloody difficult for a rake like me.”

“’Tis for the best,” Moira said, backing away.

“Damn it, Moira, you’ve had lovers before. What difference will one more make?”

Moira’s cheeks pinkened. She supposed she deserved that for lying to Jack about her nonexistent lover. “What about Lady Victoria? I doubt she’s the forgiving kind. Nor one to share her men.”

Jack gave a hoot of laughter. “Surely you’re not so naive as to think I’ll remain faithful to Victoria after we’re married, are you? Why do you think they call me Black Jack? I’m no saint, Moira. I’m beyond even Lady Amelia’s help.”

Moira sent him a puzzled look. “Lady Amelia? Are you referring to the family ghost? The one whose portrait I saw in the hall?”

“Lady Amelia be damned! ’Tis you I wish to discuss. I want you, Moira, and I always get what I want.”

“Until now,” Moira said with asperity. She pitied the woman who married Black Jack Graystoke. He was too handsome and too arrogant and too damn sure of himself. She didn’t know him well enough to trust him.

“Are you going to deny me? Deny us? I can tell when a woman wants to be bedded, and your kisses tell me you’re as eager as I to consummate our mutual attraction.”

Moira’s golden eyes blazed with fury. “You’re an arrogant, conceited reprobate, Sir Jack! I could walk out of this charade you and Lord Fenwick hatched right now and look back with no regrets.”

Jack’s brow turned upward. “Could you? Where would you go? You have no money that I know of. You don’t even have a promise of employment. By your own admission, your lover wants nothing more to do with you. You need me, Moira O’Toole. I’d say we have a mutual need of one another.” His eyes smiled at her, one corner of his mouth turned up, and he looked so cocky Moira wanted to slap the smirk from his face.

“You can’t possibly know what I need,” Moira observed. “Save your ardor for your fiancée and mistresses. I don’t want it. You promised me a rich husband, and that’s all I want.”

If Moira sounded mercenary, it was because she was desperate. Her brother’s last letter had hinted at his dire straits, and the sooner she sent financial support, the better.

The light in Jack’s gray eyes dimmed, and he stepped away from her. “Have it your way, Moira. I’ve never forced a woman in my life, not even a whore…” He left his sentence dangling, but Moira knew he was referring to her. What else could he think when she had led him to believe she was a streetwalker instead of an innocent virgin?

“We’ll find you a rich husband and you can go on your merry way. Passing off a woman of your…er…calling as a lady of quality will be vastly amusing.” And lucrative to
the tune of two thousand pounds, Jack thought but did not say. “There’s a ball on Saturday night. ’Tis a perfect time to introduce you to society. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m to call on Lady Victoria this afternoon. ’Tis a perfect time to propose. We will both have rich spouses by spring. Good day, Moira. I won’t be joining you for supper tonight. ’Tis likely Lady Victoria will have appropriate entertainment planned to celebrate our engagement.”

“Good day, Sir Jack,” Moira returned coolly, knowing full well the kind of entertainment Lady Victoria would provide for her virile fiancé. She had no idea why, but the thought of Jack and Victoria together intimately made her physically ill.

Jack slammed out the door in a fine rage. It wasn’t as if he was asking something of Moira she hadn’t already given to others. He knew the attraction between them was perilous to his future plans with Victoria, but he couldn’t help himself. He seemed to be racing toward some unknown destination, guided by an unseen hand. He’d be damned if he’d permit it to ruin his plans! His life was his own, to live as he bloody well pleased. Until he’d gotten foxed and run down an Irish serving wench who’d been ditched by her lover, he’d been perfectly content with his life. Keeping himself amused and bagging a wealthy wife had been his only goals in life. He couldn’t wait until he found an unsuspecting husband for the woman of questionable virtue he’d brought into his home. It couldn’t be too soon to suit him.

“Oh, milady, you look like a princess.” Jilly sighed wistfully. “Sir Jack is going to be so pleased. Why, I’ll bet you’ll outshine every woman at the ball tonight. You’ll nab a husband in no time at all.”

Moira stared, entranced, into the pier glass, unable to believe the reflected image was her own. The ball gown had
been delivered just this afternoon. The silver tissue, shimmering with iridescent hues of violet, hugged her breasts and cinched her waist most becomingly, then belled out in regal splendor. The neckline dipped enticingly to reveal the upper curves of her breasts without appearing overly daring, while the long fitted sleeves gave the appearance of demure elegance.

Her hair had been lovingly groomed by Jilly, who piled her gleaming tresses atop her head in a spill of curls that provided an enchanting frame for her delicate features. If Moira wasn’t looking at herself in the glass, she would have sworn such a transformation was impossible. Yet the living proof was staring back at her.

“You flatter me, Jilly,” Moira demurred modestly. “Bring my wrap. It wouldn’t do to keep Sir Jack waiting.”

Jack was growing impatient, pacing the hall and pausing every few seconds at the foot of the stairs to glance upward. He was as nervous as a mother about to present her daughter to society. So much depended upon Moira’s acceptance by the gentry. He needed Spence’s two thousand pounds to finance his wedding to Victoria, and Moira required a rich husband to take her off his hands.

His marriage proposal had gone off without a hitch until Victoria had placed a stipulation upon their engagement. She refused to marry him until his ward was established in a household of her own. Damn! If he didn’t have funds soon to restore Graystoke Manor, it would fall down around him. Jack had been relieved to find that Victoria’s mother had arrived unexpectedly for a visit, thus enabling him to make a graceful exit without making up excuses to Victoria for not bedding her, as she would have expected had she been alone. His reluctance puzzled him. Not too long ago, bedding Victoria had been more pleasure than chore.

His empty pockets should have made Jack more than eager to placate Victoria in any way he could. Like finding
Moira a husband. On the other hand, imagining Moira making love with another man made him physically uncomfortable. He supposed that feeling would pass once they were both safely wed.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Jack glanced upward again, stunned by the vision before him. Resplendent in shimmering silver, looking like an angel, Moira seemed to float down the stairs. Her feet must have sprouted wings, for it seemed to Jack that she barely touched the steps as she approached the bottom, where he stood waiting. Jack was scarcely aware that he had stopped breathing until a gasp of air exploded from his chest. When Moira reached the landing, he gallantly offered his arm and guided her into the foyer, where he stepped back to scan her critically.

His searing gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders, then slowly and seductively upward to her breasts, his stare bold and assessing. Moira’s whole being seemed to be filled with waiting; the prolonged anticipation was almost unbearable.

“Do you approve, sir?”

Approve? Jack more than approved—he was overwhelmed. Never in his wildest imagination did he think the pitiful creature he had brought home over a month ago could be transformed into this glorious woman standing before him. The pit of his stomach churned and he had to force himself into calmness, repeating to himself that he couldn’t afford to become involved with a penniless waif who was most likely a whore. And Moira couldn’t afford to marry anyone without blunt if she wished to help her relatives. They were a fine pair, he thought dimly. He was a disreputable scoundrel willing to swap affection for money, and she was a woman with deplorable taste in lovers.

He considered her a moment, then shrugged. “My approval isn’t the one we’re seeking. ’Tis your prospective suitors you need to impress. But ’tis my opinion you’ll do very
well. Just remember your lessons and be mindful of your dance steps, and I predict you’ll have swains aplenty. One would hardly think from looking at you that you’re…” he halted in mid-sentence, then said after a dramatic pause, “from the serving class.”

Moira didn’t need second sight to know what Jack had started to say; his awkward pause said it all. Since she had nothing to add to alter his opinion of her, she said, “Shall we go?”

Jilly appeared with Moira’s new fur-lined cape, and Jack draped it over her shoulders. His hands lingered a moment too long, and the heat from his touch warmed her all the way to the Griswald mansion in Mayfair. Why did Black Jack Graystoke disturb her so much? Moira wondered dismally. How could she concentrate on another man when Jack’s virile appeal assaulted every sense she possessed?

“We’re here,” Jack said as the carriage rolled to a stop before a huge stone edifice whose tall windows spilled light into the street. People were leaving their carriages and strolling toward the entrance in droves. The driver lowered the step and Jack exited first. He offered a helping hand to Moira.

Moira’s hand shook as she placed it in his. Jack covered her fingers with his and patted them reassuringly. “Just be yourself and remember the story we concocted to explain your appearance in London. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise. Won’t Lady Victoria be upset if you watch me too closely?”

“Perhaps, but you’re my ward, and I’m expected to keep tabs on you. Besides,” he added dryly, “the sooner we find you a husband, the happier Victoria will be.”

The staircase leading to the second-floor ballroom was teeming with people going in either direction. Jack greeted several by name while merely nodding to others. Most seemed startled to see him with a woman other than Victoria, since rumor had it that Jack and Victoria were all but
engaged. When they were announced, all heads turned in their direction as the majordomo called out, “Sir Jackson Graystoke and his ward, Lady Moira Greeley.”

What followed was a general stampede to be introduced to Moira. Jack led her to the host and hostess first, explaining Moira’s identity with a few succinct words. Since no one refuted his claim or questioned Moira’s right to attend the rout, she allowed herself a shaky breath of heartfelt relief. Jack squeezed her arm and whispered, “You’re launched. The rest is up to you.”

Spence came up to join them, eyeing Moira with open admiration. “You look like an angel, Moira. I can almost guarantee your success.” He sent Jack a meaningful look. “I reckon I can buy my own grays.” He walked away, chuckling to himself. “Watching this unfold is worth the loss.”

Moira looked at Jack askance. “What is he talking about?”

“Pay him no heed. Spence often talks in riddles.”

Further explanation was forgotten as she and Jack were immediately surrounded by young gentlemen demanding to be introduced to Moira. There were so many, Moira could hardly keep them straight, let alone settle on anyone who caught her fancy. So she danced with them all, batting her eyes coyly, which was totally out of character. Flirtation was new to Moira; so was the kind of deception she was involved in.

When midnight arrived, both Lord Harrington and Lord Renfrew asked to partner her for supper. When she looked to Jack for guidance, she saw that he was paying rapt attention to Lady Victoria and was unaware of her dilemma. Using her own judgment, she smiled beguilingly at both men and accepted an arm from each, allowing the eager swains to lead her in to supper together.

“Your little ward appears to have made some rather important conquests,” Victoria said with a smirk. “Both Harrington and Renfrew seem quite taken with her.”