Seduce Me (23 page)

He continued kissing her, his mouth at times angry as he pressed into her. She fed off his urgency, clung to him as desire
shook through her.

His mouth left hers and began raining kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, and onto the gentle swell of her breasts.

With her right hand, she ran her fingers against his chest hair, its prickly texture tickling her palm. She outlined his stomach
muscles.

She wanted to touch him everywhere. Memorize every hard line of his body.

He tugged on the back of her dress and she heard the buttons pop, the fabric giving way as seams tore and material fell open.
Gently, he pushed the sleeves off her shoulders.

His voice came out ragged. “I’ll buy you another. I need to see your body again.”

She removed the rest of the dress and slipped out of her shoes, and then she stood before him in her shift and stockings.

He knelt before her and picked up her right foot. With a satin-soft touch, he rolled the stocking down her thigh, over her
calf, then slid it off her foot. He did the same with her other stocking.

Wet desire trickled between her legs in response.

A day’s growth of whiskers had settled onto his face, darkening the shadow on his cheeks, making him look dangerous and so
handsome her knees went weak. The makings of his beard scraped against her sensitive flesh.

Again he stood before her. Nuzzling into his neck, she inhaled deeply, trying to forge his scent of sandalwood soap, and what
she knew only as Fielding, forever in her memory. Gently she kissed the skin there, loving the taste of him and the feel of
his skin against her lips. He groaned softly and ran his hands down her arms. Goose bumps followed his touch and her nipples
hardened.

With one hand he slid the straps of her shift down her arms until the flimsy material pooled at her feet. He traced the words
inscribed on her left breast and then those on her stomach.

“There’s something positively erotic about these tattoos,” he said. “Exotic etchings on such well-bred flesh.”

He placed his hands on her waist, then slowly caressed his way to her breasts. His warm hands kneaded the sensitive flesh,
his touch only fueling her desire. But she didn’t want to rush him. She wanted to feel every sensation there was to be felt
in lovemaking. Her hand again slid down his torso to rest on his flat, hard stomach.

He pulled her to him and kissed her fervently, his tongue sliding against hers in a passion dance that nearly made her climax.

He gripped her bottom and pressed her to him. “You have a wonderful bottom, Esme Worthington.”

That only made her smile.

His erection pushed hard against her bare stomach and she longed to wrap her legs around him, to put that part of his body
firmly against her core. She lifted one leg in instinct, wrapping it around his waist. He picked her up and cradled her to
his chest, then carried her straight to the bed. She’d been naked in his bed before, and he’d stopped just short of making
love to her. Esme knew tonight there would be no such interruption.

“Esme,” he breathed. He leaned over her, bracing both arms on either side of her.

It was all the encouragement she needed. She reached between them and unfastened his trousers to free his hardened length.
She needed to touch him, needed him to be inside her.

With some assistance, his pants slid off him and then his shirt and the rest of his clothing. He lay atop her, his hot skin
against hers. Nothing was between them. She hugged him to her and soaked in the sensations; his weight pressing onto her,
the crispness of his hair tickling her legs, his erection lying firmly against her stomach.

“It will hurt,” he told her. There was such honesty in his eyes, but pain was the last thing on her mind.

“I don’t care.” She opened her legs, making room for him.

He kissed her cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His mouth met hers in a tender and vulnerable kiss that came close to bringing
tears to her eyes.

Desire slid through her like molten lava. With one swift movement he pushed into her. Pain pierced her, but she fought the
urge to flinch. She wanted to be strong for him.

Several breaths passed before he moved within her, slow and shallow at first, then tentatively he pushed himself deeper inside.
Instinctively she encircled his body with her legs, taking him in even deeper still. Pleasure shrouded the pain as he drove
into and out of her, made love to her.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He nibbled her shoulder, nuzzled her neck. The climax bloomed within her, curling into a tight spring she knew was seconds
away from exploding. He kissed her then, deep, sweet, and full of tenderness.

And then spirals of pleasure burst through her. She tightened her legs and grabbed onto his shoulders as it rocketed through.
A moment later she felt his abdomen stiffen, and then he released a guttural moan as he lost his seed within her.

For several moments they stayed in that position, sweaty, out of breath, and clinging to each other.

He withdrew himself and rolled over. She was unsure of what to do next, but she didn’t have to wonder long before he pulled
her into the crook of his arm.

She said nothing, merely snuggled up against him, relishing the smell of him, the scent of their lovemaking permeating her
skin. His hand absently stroked her back.

“No one would blame you for working for the Raven,” Esme said softly.

He only squeezed her closer to him in response.

She longed to say more. To say something that would ease the guilt she knew ate at Fielding, but she found herself at a loss.

They lay in silence for so long Esme would have guessed he’d fallen asleep.

“So tell me, Esme,” he whispered. “What secrets are you hiding?”

“Secrets?” she asked. “Tit for tat, I see. Well, I don’t suppose it will hurt to supply you with the details of the Worthington
family secrets.” She still lay in the crook of his arm, snuggled against his chest.

“Worthington family secrets. Sounds intriguing. Tell me, why is it that you refer to yourself as a woman without a name?”

Her right hand made lazy circles through the hair on his chest. She was not in the habit of revealing her own humiliation.
But she had claimed to be forthcoming with him; she couldn’t very well make herself out to be a liar. And he’d shared something
with her, something he evidently was not proud of.

“Obviously I do have a name, although it is a name with no protection, as it were,” she began. “My father was a baron, but
we lived a comfortable life. He and I were quite close; it is from him that I inherited my extensive library.”

“You mentioned he was a professor, but a landed
gentleman
professor.” He released a low whistle. “That’s interesting. I would wager that caused quite a stir among his peers.”

“Yes, and with my mother as well. It was not what she’d agreed to, she always told him. He came to teaching only after my
sister and I were born. My mother, well, she and I never did see eye to eye on much of anything. She and my sister, Elena,
were very much alike, though. Both beautiful and charming and able to persuade men to do their bidding with little more than
a flutter of their eyelashes.”

As much as she’d hate to admit it, the pain was still there, pinching her like a broken corset bone.

“Spoiled and tiresome,” he muttered.

She merely smiled and kept going. “Elena is five years older than I am, and as a little girl I wanted nothing more than to
be just like her. She was so pretty and graceful. I couldn’t wait until I grew up and had my coming-out so that I too could
be courted by a line of suitors.

“I can still see her coming down the stairs in our small townhome, her soft curls pulled up in an intricate coiffure decorated
with jeweled hairpins, her rose-colored ballgown brushing the rails of the stairwell as she left for a night of dancing.”
Esme paused a moment to enjoy Fielding’s fingers as they traced haphazard patterns on her back. “It wasn’t until later,” she
continued, “that I realized blood was the only commonality Elena and I had. In any case, it only took her one season, and
she married one of those suitors.”

“Lord Weatherby,” he provided.

“Yes. The wealthiest and perhaps the most handsome of all her suitors. I was all of fifteen. Shortly thereafter, our mother
and father both fell ill and died. Scarlet fever.” She tried to speak quickly so the tears wouldn’t come. “My father left
no other heir, so my brother-in-law took immediate control of our household and became my legal guardian. Very quickly, he
sold my parents’ home and all our belongings, save the items my sister wanted, and my father’s books.” For which she’d had
to beg.

“Your sister’s handsome, rich husband turned out to be a scoundrel,” Fielding said.

Esme shrugged, trying to appear as if she didn’t care. As if the last twelve years had meant nothing to her. “Oh they’re quite
happy with each other. Both looking pretty in their big house with their expensive furnishings and hordes of servants. I’d
wager their children are perfect as well.”

“And what of your own debut?” he asked. “Why did you never marry?”

She exhaled slowly. “My debut was a disaster. My mother had spent the better part of ten years instilling in me the teaching
that I should not flaunt my education around men. She reminded me time and again to hold my tongue, and that if I could do
so, I might make a decent match.”

Fielding had already started to chuckle.

Esme frowned. “What’s so amusing?”

“I can sense trouble coming,” he said. “There’s no situation in which you could keep your opinion to yourself.”

She could have been offended, but instead Esme warmed under his assessment. There was no judgment in his tone, but rather
a matter-of-fact understanding of who she was.

“What happened?” he asked.

“After an extensive lecture from my sister, reminding me to heed all Mother’s advice, I went with Raymond and Elena to an
exclusive dinner party hosted by the Duke of Devonshire. For most of the evening I managed to smile and nod and be the perfect
dinner companion. I nearly survived the entire meal, but as they were bringing out the seventh course his lordship was touting
his knowledge of all things Egyptian. Then he boldly, and foolishly I might add, claimed that Cleopatra had never been pharaoh.
I saw Elena shake her head, but I could not abide his ignorance. So I corrected his facts.”

Fielding tilted her chin so she looked up at him. “You corrected the duke in his own house at his own party?”

“I did,” she said slowly. “And I paid dearly for it.”

He kissed her forehead.

“It was a scandal I could not recover from. No matter how much Elena and Raymond apologized on my behalf, they knew better
than to ask me to do so. After that dinner, no man would have me; they were far too concerned with the stigma marrying me
would carry. A woman with opinions of her own.” She sighed. “A month later they gave me my dowry and told me to go live in
the country. I was given three estates to choose from. I chose to stay in London.”

“On your own?” Fielding sat up. “Where did you go?”

She kept the sheet tucked under her chin. “To the only place I knew and the only friend I had,” she said.

“Your aunt?”

“Yes and no. I went to the Guildhall Library. I had always spent so much time there; it was like a second home to me. Thea
was there often, and we’d spoken on more than one occasion, but we didn’t really know each other. She caught me crying that
day, and I told her the whole story. I was surprised to learn that she too, in some ways, had been turned out by her family.
So we pooled our money and bought our home, and we’ve been there ever since.”

“You’ve lived on your own since you were but a child.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement spoken with a touch of awe
and pity.

She did not want his pity. “I’ve done rather well for myself, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, you have,” he said. “So then Thea is not truly your aunt?”

“She is the only family I have.”

“Are you not angry?” he asked, his own voice full of anger on her behalf.

She could not lie. “Certainly I am. I think my sister is the most selfish creature in all of London. But I enjoy my life,
my freedom. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t lament the opportunities I never had. The dancing and the courting. The chances
I should have had to become someone’s wife.” She was quiet for a moment. “But I can’t blame them for everything. It was my
mistake, my scandal. And had it not been that evening, it would have been another. You said yourself, I can’t keep my opinions
to myself.” She picked a piece of lint off the sheet. “I don’t suppose I would ever have gotten along well with proper society; they tend
not to favor women who speak their minds.”

“True though that may be, you should have been given the opportunity. There are some men who admire women with thoughts of
their own.”

She ignored the flip her heart made. He had said “some men”; it was not a personal admission.

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “You and she favor each other, but the similarities are slight.”

She sat up. “Elena and I? How do you know?”

“I went to see Elena and her husband.”

“When?”

“Shortly after we arrived here at Max’s.” He smiled. “Evidently you have a niece who is rather similar to her aunt Esme and
is causing quite a stir with her parents.”

She shook her head. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“I wanted them to know you were safe.”

She crawled from the bed and tossed her shift over her head. One by one, she gathered up the pieces of her clothing. Clutching
it all to her chest, she faced him. “You had no right to do that.” Now they would know everything, all the trouble she’d caused.
It was humiliating.

“Esme—”

But she didn’t wait to hear what he had to say.