Seduce Me (16 page)

“But you’ve saved the crown on more than one occasion,” she argued.

His brows rose with surprise.

“I admit to being somewhat of an admirer,” she said, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment.

“There have been a few instances when the monarchy has been in danger and a member of Solomon’s might have been involved in
the solution,” he said modestly. “But we are mostly scholars, such as yourself. While Her Majesty is certainly aware of our
existence, she relies on her own soldiers and guards to protect her.”

The compliment warmed her, yet somehow she wished the words had come from a different man. “Where did the name come from?”

“Solomon’s mines. Our charter member studied the ancient legend until he died. As you might have guessed, he never did find
the mines.”

“Is it true that King Henry VIII was involved in the Solomon’s club?” she asked.

He smiled. “No, but people do favor that story. In fact, Solomon’s came about a hundred years after good old Henry.”

The door opened behind her. “Max, have you seen… Ah, Esme.”

She turned to find Fielding staring intently, and for an unknown reason she felt guilty sitting here with Max. Abruptly, she
rose to her feet. “The marquess was merely sharing some of his research with me.” And Fielding had been looking for her. That
notion pleased her immensely. After his departure yesterday, she’d worried their congenial way with each other had disappeared.
But he’d sought her out.

“Might I have a brief word with you?” Fielding asked.

She nodded, then turned back to Max. “Thank you for sharing this with me.” She handed the Solomon’s invitation back to him.

Fielding turned on his heel and left the office, and she followed him to the room they’d set up for their research.

“What is it?” she asked once he’d closed the door.

“You mentioned something last night,” he said, leaning against the table, “something that wasn’t quite coherent. I thought
perhaps you might remember it this morning.”

So he had been the one to carry her to bed. As attractive as the marquess was, she was glad it had been Fielding’s arms she’d
nestled in and not her host’s.

His eyes lit upon her and scanned her appraisingly. She fancied she saw a bit of possessive interest in his gaze. Perhaps
he was not as immune to her as he seemed to be. The thought made her bold.

She sauntered up to him and trailed one finger down his shirt. “Might I ask you a question, then?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How does a woman go about seducing a man? Obviously, it can be somewhat complicated.” She flattened her hand on his stomach,
and she felt his muscles twitch beneath her palm.

“Are you planning on seducing the marquess?” Fielding asked.

If she didn’t know better, Esme would have sworn she detected a hint of jealousy in his tone. It fueled her boldness. “You
know very well who I have my eyes on.”

His voice lowered to a sultry tone. “You want me to tell you how you can seduce me?”

“Yes.” She ran her hand over his torso.

“Esme, you are treading dangerous waters.” He grabbed her wrist and stilled her hand.

“There is nothing dangerous about you.” She met his brown eyes, the golden flecks in them shimmering like amber. “I would
like to know should the need arise,” she said.

His brows rose, and a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “What sort of scenario would make it a necessity for
you to seduce me?”

“Well, I don’t know.” She pointed a delicate finger at him. “But you never know about these sorts of things. And I prefer
to be prepared.”

“Esme, I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation.”

“Why? Because I’m a virgin?” She leaned into his hard, lean body, pressing herself against him. “I know all about what goes
on between a man and a woman. I am no green-behind-the-ears girl.”

He tried to hide his smile. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘wet behind the ears.’ Or simply ‘a green girl.’ ”

“No matter. I am a woman of seven and twenty years. I have lived on my own for quite a while now.” She looked directly into
his eyes. “I am perfectly capable of deciding to take a lover should I desire one.” She punctuated the last four words by
poking him in the chest. “And I desire you.” Unfortunately, her bravado failed her and her voice wavered with her next words.
“I thought, perhaps, you desired me as well.”

“You need do nothing to seduce me,” he finally said. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his groin. “Do you feel that?”

Esme gasped at the heat she felt beneath her palm and curved her hand around him.

“That
is my desire for you. You need only sit there the way you do and look at me with those eyes and smile with that perfect mouth
of yours, and I want you.” He grabbed her arms with more force than she anticipated. “I’m out of my mind with want for you,
but that doesn’t change anything. I cannot have you.”

Her pulse quickened at his words until she thought she heard its thundering in her ears. She had to swallow before she could
speak. “You are promised to another, then.”

He shook his head. “No.”

Confusion hit her. He desired her, and yet he claimed he could not have her. Which was ridiculous, since she’d offered herself
to him. He had listed her physical attributes with a heated hunger that left no doubt about his interest in them.

Then it had to be her very soul he found unappealing. Her personality, her manner, her intelligence. She stepped away from
him. Suddenly she felt very foolish that she’d allowed Annette to put her hair up in this concoction.

She clamped her hand down over the band, as if covering it would somehow diminish its hold over her. It was the bracelet,
she reminded herself. She wouldn’t always feel this way.

She cleared her throat. “I have found how to rid myself of this bracelet. Well, not precisely the solution, but a possible
way to find the solution.”

She flipped open a journal, then handed it to him. “About three-quarters of the way down the right-side column,” she said,
her serious tone almost convincing her she was in control of her emotions.

His eyes scanned the page, and he looked ready to close the book, perhaps convinced she’d found nothing useful, but then…
He looked closer.

“Have you ever heard of this Biedermann Diary before?” he asked.

She shook her head fervently. “No. I thought on this for quite a while last night, and the name doesn’t sound familiar.” She
handed him another book. “I dug around, and it appears this Biedermann had been working on a translation of a particular Greek
text.”

“It says here,” Fielding began, still perusing the journal, “that the Biedermann Diary holds the key to undoing all the curses
within the box.” He looked up at her. “At least that’s what”—he glanced back at the article—“George Winthrop claims.”

Her back straightened and she smiled. “George Winthrop is a foremost scholar of Pandora’s box. He lives in America, and his
‘claims,’ as you say, would be considered directly on the mark. If we can locate this Biedermann fellow, we should find our
answers.” She leaned forward and poked him in the arm. “Aren’t you impressed with what I found?”

“Most impressed. Any ideas as to how we can locate Biedermann?” Fielding asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I suspected it might be time to pay a visit to my friend Phillip, as this seems precisely the
bit of information he’d be helpful with. In fact, I took the liberty of sending him a note this morning notifying him that
we would be stopping by.”

E
sme tugged at her sleeve, pulling it firmly over the gold band that dangled from her wrist. “If you would, please allow me
to do the talking. Judging from our correspondence with each other, Phillip is a delicate sort. Although he’s quite intelligent.”

She looked pretty today. Not more so than usual, yet he couldn’t help but notice. The color of her dress matched her green
eyes perfectly, which were so bright with her enthusiasm he had a difficult time looking away from her. “I like your hair
better when it’s down,” he said.

She self-consciously reached up to touch her hair.

“I didn’t say it looks bad, Esme. It looks rather nice, actually. But personally, I think it looks rather seductive when it
brushes against your shoulders.”

She moistened her lips. “No doubt Phillip will have an extensive library.” She clasped her hands together. “How I do wish
we had more time to peruse it if that is the case,” she said.

“But we don’t,” he reminded her.

Again she fiddled with her sleeve, attempting to cover the bracelet.

“Esme, what are you doing?”

Pink settled in her cheeks, and she looked away. “I do not wish Phillip to know how foolish I was, how weak. I only want to
inquire how one might remove or reverse a curse, not this specific curse. Or perhaps we could tell him we know the Raven’s
men have two of the bands.” She shook her head, and Fielding could have sworn a stray teardrop slid down her cheek. “But I
should have known better.”

He wanted to tell her not to cry, but he wasn’t certain what should come after that. He was not in the practice of consoling
women. So he merely nodded. “I won’t say anything.” He squeezed her knee.

“Thank you.”

Fielding pulled the bag closer to him. “We’re not showing him the box until I am certain he’s not involved in any way with
your kidnapping.”

“I can’t see how it would be possible for Phillip to work with the Raven.”

“Anything is possible,” he said.

She shook her head, clearly unconvinced. “No, not Phillip. He’s far too honorable a man for that. Besides, an intelligent
man like Phillip wouldn’t be taken in by a nasty villain like the Raven, who—”

She broke off short, her cheeks burning, as if she’d only just realized she’d implied that he himself was neither honorable
nor intelligent.

“I didn’t mean—,” she began.

He didn’t give her the chance to finish. “The Raven is a very charming man when he chooses to be. He’s convinced stronger
men than your scholar to do his bidding.”

She said nothing, so it was unclear if she believed him or not.

Fielding felt his own irritation with Phillip, the scholar, growing. So what if this intelligent,
honorable
man was exactly the sort Esme should end up with? He was, no doubt, a pasty-skinned weakling. And he’d be completely unable
to protect Esme from the Raven.

However, the thought did little to raise Fielding’s spirits. Was that why she’d taken such care with her hair today, because
she’d known she would see her scholarly friend? No matter how Fielding tried to convince himself that he wasn’t jealous of
Phillip, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was lying to himself.

A moment later the carriage stilled. “I believe we’re here,” he said.

Together they walked up the steps to her friend’s corner redbrick townhome. Fielding knocked on the door, and few moments
later they’d been led into the study and seated in worn but comfortable leather chairs.

The curtains had been pulled back to allow the day’s light to pour in. The room was small, or perhaps it only felt that way
because of the towering columns of books that lined three of the four walls. Esme had been right to assume Phillip had an
extensive library.

Esme’s face lit up at the sight of so many books. The moment the servant left, she popped out of her chair to stroll among
them, her fingertips trailing their spines like a lover’s caress.

Fielding wanted to growl with frustration. It was bad enough being jealous of her anemic scholar. He would not be jealous
of the man’s books.

When there was a sound at the door, Esme started guiltily and returned to her seat.

“Oh, we shall finally meet,” a man’s voice sounded from the hall.

Esme fidgeted with her skirt.

The man stepped into the study with a small calico cat draped in his arms. He stopped suddenly. “Mr. Grey, whatever are you
doing here?”

“Mr. Nichols is your scholar correspondent?” Fielding asked. The relief that surged through his body annoyed him. It was relief
only because he knew for certain Mr. Nichols wasn’t the one who’d told the Raven about Esme’s key. Fielding knew the reason
behind his shoulders relaxing had more to do with the fact that Mr. Nichols didn’t warrant jealousy on Fielding’s part.

Esme frowned. “You know each other?”

“Mr. Nichols is part of the group of men from Solomon’s who hired me for this job,” Fielding said.

Nichols placed the cat on a chair.

Esme stepped forward and clasped both of Mr. Nichols’s hands. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Dear girl, indeed a great pleasure. And this is Pandy,” he said, leaning down to stroke the kitten. Then he looked over at
Fielding. “And you, sir, have chosen a perfect intellectual guide for this quest to secure Pandora’s box. This lovely woman
has dazzled me with her grasp of theories both ancient and new.”

Fielding didn’t bother correcting the man. There was no need to bring up Esme’s kidnapping, unless she wanted to do so herself.