Seduce Me (19 page)

She looked completely affronted. “Absolutely not.” Without another glance, she opened the carriage door and stepped down completely
unassisted. “It has been so long since I’ve visited this museum, I should very much like to see their new exhibits,” she announced
perhaps too loudly. Subtle, she was not.

He matched her pace and held his arm out to her. She cautiously took it, meeting his eyes for more than a moment. They used
the entrance off Montague Place and walked quietly through the hall.

No sooner had they entered the museum than he heard his name.

“Oh, Mr. Grey,” the voice called.

Fielding turned to his right and found James Silsbee, a former client, standing there. The older gentleman held his hat against
his chest with one hand while he used the other to maneuver his cane.

“Mr. Silsbee,” Fielding said. “A pleasure to see you again. Allow me to introduce Miss Worthington.”

The man nodded to Esme. “You’ve certainly hired the best, madam. Mr. Grey here is responsible for unearthing the Great Library
of Alexandria.” His eyes glistened when he smiled.

Esme whirled around to face him. “You found the library?
The
library?” she asked, her voice entirely too loud.

Fielding squeezed her arm. “Mr. Silsbee here provided me with extensive research; I only filled in the holes and did the actual
digging.”

“Where did you find it?” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Beneath the Temple of Isis,” he said simply. “I’m afraid we’re in a bit of hurry,” he said to Silsbee.

“Oh, certainly, the museum closes soon. I may be in touch,” Mr. Silsbee said. “I believe I may have found a reference to Homer’s
lost texts.”

“Very good,” Fielding said. He pulled Esme away. “This way,” he said.

“I cannot believe it,” she said. “What other treasures have you found? When you told me you hired yourself out to find antiquities,
I assumed you were unearthing pottery and perhaps a gold staff or jeweled-handled blade every now and again. But this…” Her
voice trailed off.

Her awe made him uncomfortable. He dropped her arm and shoved his inside his coat to check his watch. “We can talk about this
another time,” he said. “Right now, we have other tasks to attend to.”

Fielding proceeded to the museum guard and showed him a card.

“Where are we going?” Esme whispered.

“To the reading room.”

The guard moved aside to let them pass, and soon they had stepped into the grand reading room. Book-lined shelves filled the
space, from the floor to the dome-shaped ceiling high above their heads.

Esme gasped, her hand finding its way to her necklace.

Her obvious joy pleased him. “I thought you might like the reading room.” Fighting his desire to kiss that smile from her
luscious lips, Fielding shifted away from her.

“They’re not generous with passes, so I’ve never been in here,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. Her eyes never for
a moment left the shelves in front of her. “I thought once to send in a request for a pass, but expected that a single woman
would not be given much courtesy.”

He’d suspected as much, which was part of the reason he wanted to bring her in here before they had to hide themselves away.
She was utterly transfixed, her eyes darting from one shelf to another. He found it difficult not to watch her.

Her passion for books tugged at something deep inside him. There had been a time so long ago when he’d loved books and history
and the promise of adventure. Things had changed, though, and he’d had to face responsibility and be an adult, earn money
to pay off his father’s debts.

She walked straight up to a shelf and bent to read the titles. Then she trailed her hand against the spines as she walked
to another shelf. Standing up on the tips of her toes, she perused a row of books above her head.

Seeing the room through her eyes, it was as if he too was seeing it for the first time. The tiers of shelves led up to great
windows that surrounded the bottom half of the copper dome, and the early evening sky was already lightly dusted with stars.
Several men sat at the rows of desks that jutted out from the walls of the room like spokes on a wheel.

“How much time do we have?” she asked, her voice laced with awe.

He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes,” he whispered close to her ear.

She stood looking from him to the shelves, obviously conflicted.

“You have time to look around a little before we go. And we can always come back another time.”

Her genuine smile lit her face so quickly, he didn’t have time to prepare himself for the effect. What was he doing making
promises for a future outing with her?

Fielding took the opportunity to browse the room, looking for somewhere they might safely hide until the museum employees
left for the evening. He kept one eye on Esme while she browsed the shelves, stopping periodically to pull down a volume and
flip through it.

He’d walked the circular perimeter of the room, seeking a closet or cabinet that would conceal them, but so far he’d found
nothing.

“Ten minutes,” a guard said as he walked through the room to give a warning that closing time was near.

The men working at the desks began packing up their belongings. Fielding made his way over to Esme.

“There’s nowhere in here for us to hide,” he whispered. “Follow me.” They stepped out of the reading room and into a hall,
going deeper into the museum until they came to a darkened room.

“Egyptology,” Esme said with interest. “I haven’t been here since they expanded this exhibit.”

“Indeed,” Fielding said.

Footsteps sounded in the next room. It was two men, judging from their voices.

Fielding grabbed Esme’s hand and pulled her through the exhibit. The only other door besides the one through which they’d
entered led to the location of the voices. That’s when he saw it. An Egyptian coffin flanked by cat statues stood upright, leaning against the wall. The stone sarcophagus
had the likeness of an Egyptian woman painted on the front, and though the image was chipped in some places, it was still
a thing of beauty. No doubt he could have fetched a pretty penny for something like that.

“We can hide in there,” he said, pointing to the sarcophagus.

“Are you mad?” Esme stopped and stared at him. “We cannot hide in a coffin. You won’t even be able to shift the lid to open
it. That stone must weigh twice as much as you.”

A pair of gentlemen lingered at the other side of the room, reading the plates by a display of canopic jars. One of them made
a note in a small book he carried, then he nodded to his friend and together they walked away. Fielding waited until they’d
disappeared into the hall before he spoke again.

“We don’t appear to have any other options.” He once again scanned the room, looking for another place to hide. “Perhaps I
should have better planned this,” he muttered.

She gave him a wry smile.

“We can come back another time,” he suggested.

She looked down at her wrist, then shook her head. “No, I need to remove this bracelet as soon as possible.”

Esme was desperate to rid herself of this curse, of her lust for him. Granted, she also believed her life was in danger, yet
he still suspected her desperation had more to do with her feelings for him.

Moving the lid was indeed a challenge, as she’d predicted, but not one he couldn’t manage. He was able to slide the lid to
the side without completely removing it from the base.

“Since you’re so desperate to be rid of me,” he began as he stepped inside and felt the cold stone permeate his clothes, “come
here.” He held his hand out to her. “Let’s do this.”

Footsteps drew closer.

“I swear I saw two people go into the Egyptian room,” a male voice said.

She eyed Fielding warily but moved quickly to join him.

Facing him, she pressed herself against his chest as she joined him inside the casket. This plan would never have worked had
Esme been a larger woman.

Maneuvering the lid back into place proved more difficult from the inside, especially with the delectable Miss Worthington
nestled against his body. He was able, though, to shift it to an almost closed position. There was no way to know if he’d
be able to get the lid off if he shut it completely or if they would be able to breathe.

“It’s very tight in here,” Esme whispered.

“Yes, it is,” he said, and in doing so managed to suck in a mouthful of stale air. It smelled and tasted of ground sand.

He shifted, trying to move her away from him so that her hip wasn’t pressed quite so intimately against his groin. But he
failed miserably, succeeding instead in moving her in such a way that should he become aroused—which seemed imminent at this
point—there would be no way for her to miss his growing erection.

“Did you know that the word
sarcophagus
means ‘flesh eater’?” Esme whispered.

He could not see her, but he could clearly imagine her wide eyes gazing up at him with that inquisitive look she so often
wore. And it was hard enough for him to concentrate with the lack of air, let alone with fighting the sensation of her tight
little body pressed against his.

Before he could answer, the guards entered the room. Fielding put his hand over Esme’s mouth, her hot breath coming in short
puffs against his palm.

“Chesterfield, you should come with me,” the first voice said. “My sister has plenty of silly friends. One of them is bound
to find you passable. Not Marie, though. I’m claiming her. Sweet Marie, plump in all the right places.”

“Can’t. I’m going to Suffolk on the morrow to visit my ailing aunt.”

“Next week, perhaps,” his friend suggested.

“For a willing lass,” Chesterfield said wistfully. “If it weren’t for my aunt, and her small fortune,” he added with a laugh,
“I’d be there.”

“I don’t see anyone in here, Chesterfield. They must have left.”

“What about over there?”

If possible, Esme pressed her body farther into Fielding’s.

“The cupboard? No, it’s always locked.”

Footsteps passed right in front of their hiding place and stopped. “You know, I’ve always found this old thing a bit frightening.”
The man tapped on the sarcophagus with his toe. The sound echoed around Fielding and Esme.

Esme flinched and her breath caught.

There was a long pause before they heard, “Come along. We have three more wings to patrol.”

Fielding’s hand left Esme’s mouth, while the other rubbed gently against her arm. It would do them no good if she panicked
and alerted the men to their hiding place. Having her this close, though, was wreaking havoc on his body. And supposedly she
was the one suffering from the curse of lust. It seemed he was equally afflicted.

A door closed and the voices faded away.

Esme relaxed into his body. “I thought for certain they would discover us,” she said.

The faint scent of lilacs wafted to him and for some reason gave him a measure of calm. He breathed her in, her hair tickling
his nose.

She shifted and in doing so rubbed her breasts against him. Desire surged through his veins and pooled in his loins. This
was bloody perfect.

“Fielding?” she asked, her voice lined with panic. She poked him right in the ribs. “Are you still breathing?” Her finger
continued to jab him in the side.

“Yes.” He grabbed hold of her hand.

“Oh, you frightened me.” She relaxed against him. “I believe this is the sarcophagus of the priestess Amon-Ra. I read about
it not too long ago. Many people who have had contact with it have died. So it is thought to be cursed,” she whispered, then
paused as voices from the hall drifted by.

“In fact, the owner of this sarcophagus, who won it in a wager in Egypt,” she continued a moment later, “simply donated it
to the museum in an attempt to remove the curse from his life.” She took a deep breath. “And when you didn’t answer immediately,
I thought maybe…”

“That the curse had done me in?” he supplied.

“Honestly. The two travel companions of the man who owned this died shortly after returning to England. Then he gave the sarcophagus
to a friend as a gift, and that friend’s mother died. Then there was all this very peculiar business with a photographer—”

“Esme, you’re going to use all of our oxygen,” he said.

She shrugged her delicate shoulders, which only ended up rubbing her breasts against him again. He groaned.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth. “It will only be a few more moments before everyone leaves for the night and we’ll
be able to get out of this tomb.”

“You smell rather nice,” she said.

They needed to get out of this bloody box. There was only so much temptation a man could take.

She nuzzled against him.

Desire shot through him.
Damnation
. There was no way to reach her mouth for a kiss; there simply wasn’t enough room. So he did the next best thing. He brought
her hand to his mouth and laved her wrist and fingers with kisses. Bloody hell, he’d never craved a woman the way he craved
her.

She’d finally felt his arousal pressed against her and had tentatively brushed her hand across the front of his breeches.
They needed to get out of this box. Now.

He reached around her, pushing at the lid. The lid scraped against the stone as he tried to shove it to the side. “Can you
squeeze out?” he asked once he had managed to create a small opening.

She tried to ease out of the sarcophagus sideways, rubbing her hip against his groin in the process.

“If we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to take you on the museum floor,” he said.

“Open it a little more,” she said.

He complied, although it was much more difficult to move the lid from inside the sarcophagus.

She wiggled herself out, then stepped aside for him to step through. “As it turns out, not a terrible place to hide, but I
don’t suppose I ever want to do that again,” Esme said brightly.

As soon as he stood next to her, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to her. “But I have no objections to your
proposed plan for the floor, by the by.” She kissed him firmly.