The Seduction (17 page)

"Don't you think you have enough to do this evening, without taking time for dalliance with Lady Sally?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, she saw that teasing expression in his eyes, and she wanted to bite off her tongue. She sounded jealous, and, of course, that was not how she felt at all. Carnival would only last a week, and she did not want to waste precious time.

Trevor, however, did not seem to notice the tartness of her question. "Lady Sally is a lovely and charming girl, but she has notions of a far more permanent liaison with me than mere dalliance."

His words paralleled her own suspicions about Sally. Nonetheless, Margaret could not help saying, "You presume a great deal, my lord. Not all women wish to obtain husbands. Suppose Lady Sally only wishes to engage in a bit of harmless flirtation with you and nothing more?"

"I doubt it. Where unmarried women are concerned, flirtation is never harmless. There is always a price attached, a price that usually includes a wedding band." Before she could point out that she was an unmarried woman who definitely had no such expectations, he added, "I'm inclined to think Lady Sally will find herself quite disappointed."

"Why is that?"

"I'm not certain I wish to sacrifice my freedom just yet. The pleasures of bachelorhood still hold a great deal of appeal for me."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Poor Sally. I think my father was right about you. Where women are concerned, you really are a callous devil."

"That doesn't seem to bother you."

"That's because I have no designs on marrying a title."

He paused in the act of opening the gate and smiled at her, placing a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Margaret. I assure you that I have more to offer a woman than simply my name and title. Although you made it clear to me shortly after we met that you have no desire to marry me, there are many women who would be delighted at the prospect."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "Not only callous, but arrogant and conceited as well." She slipped through the gate and waited while he closed it behind them.

"So, why have none succeeded in that aim?" she asked when he turned to her and took her arm to lead her out of the alley.

"I have never been the marrying kind."

"I thought an earl had to marry."

"It is definitely expected. But I've only been an earl a short time. Besides, why should I rush into matrimony, an obligation that is confining, difficult, and expensive?"

"For an heir, perhaps?"

"There is that," he said, nodding. "But is it worth giving up my freedom?"

"Is freedom so important to a man, then?"

"Of course. Is it not important to you? You said not all women wish to obtain husbands. Did it never occur to you that there are some men who do not wish to obtain wives?"

"Frankly, no," she confessed. "I don't know why, but I've never thought of it that way."

"Perhaps it's because you've never had the opportunity to talk to a man about the subject," he suggested.

"Perhaps." She smiled at him. "It really is quite fascinating to have a man's honest point of view on things. I'm glad we can talk like this."

"So am I, Margaret," he assured her solemnly. "So am I."

They strolled through the plaza, where they watched the fireworks, ate ice cream, and peered in the windows of the shops. Most of the stores were still open to take advantage of the tourist trade during the festival. When they passed a jeweler's, something in the window caught Trevor's attention, and when they had walked several feet past it, he suddenly stopped. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

He retraced his steps to the jeweler's and went inside, leaving Margaret standing on the sidewalk, staring after him in bewilderment. When he returned, he carried a small box in his hand, which he presented to her with a gallant bow.

"What's this?" she asked, taking the box.

"It's a present, a token of our midnight adventures. Not the most expensive or beautiful piece of jewelry you own, I'm sure, but it reminded me of you."

"Thank you." She opened the box and found the small silver charm in the shape of a violin that was nestled in a bed of blue velvet.

"I know you're rather unconventional, but I hope you have a charm bracelet."

"As a matter of fact, I do." She looked at him in bewilderment. "Why does a violin remind you of me?" she asked. "I don't play."

He smiled. "I'll tell you why—someday."

Margaret did not look at all satisfied by that answer, but that was fine with him. Keeping her intrigued was another part of the game. She asked him several more times why a violin reminded him of her, but when her repeated question elicited no response except a smile, she finally gave up and tucked the tiny box in her purse.

They walked to the center of the Plaza and watched the Chinese acrobats. "That was amazing," she said as they resumed their stroll after the show was over. "How on earth did he manage to stand on his head and juggle those balls with his feet?" she asked, stepping around a pair of men dressed like dominoes. "I've never seen anything like that before."

Before Trevor could comment, she noticed a tavern and came to a halt. "Oh, look. Can we go inside?"

"Absolutely not. Only one kind of woman goes into a place like that, and you are not that kind of woman."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Trevor! You sound like my father."

She started toward the front door, but Trevor caught her firmly by the arm. "No. I'm not taking you in there."

Margaret tried to pull free of his grasp, but she was no match for his superior strength. "This is my adventure, remember? You said you would take me wherever I wanted to go. Well, I want to go in there."

"You won't like it, Maggie. Trust me."

"I think I'm the best judge of what I like and don't like. I may never have another chance like this."

"You don't have the chance now. We're not going in there. I have no intention of getting into a knife fight with some drunken sod who thinks you might be fair game."

"These midnight outings were your suggestion," she pointed out. "You said you would be my guide and bodyguard, that you would stop for whatever I wanted to see."

When she attempted again to free herself from his hold, he only tightened his grip and pulled her hard against his chest, wrapping his other arm around her waist to keep her there. "I said no, and unless you want to create a public scene, I suggest you stop arguing with me."

He was holding her so close that the people passing by on the crowded street were giving them curious looks. Once again, Margaret got the uneasy feeling that beneath the surface charm, Trevor St. fames was a man she could not bend to her will.

She shook her head at him in disapproval. "I never would have thought you to be such a high-minded puritan, Trevor."

"That's one of the reasons I find you so fascinating," he answered smoothly. "Your unique point of view. No other woman of my acquaintance has ever described me as either high-minded or puritan."

She opened her mouth to add that he was also being unreasonable and tyrannical, but his words diverted her attention, and she forgot entirely what she'd been about to say. "Do you really think I'm fascinating?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

"Yes, I do." Before she could appreciate the warm little tingle of pleasure that confession evoked, he added, "I also think you are a woman whose father has indulged her far too freely."

The pleasurable feeling evaporated. "Are you saying I'm spoiled?"

"That sums it up pretty well."

"Well, of all the nerve! First of all, I don't care what you think. And second, you promised me—"

Her words were interrupted by the shuffling approach of a dirty, bearded man in a yellow cloak who pleadingly held out his hand and mumbled something in Italian.

Margaret looked into his watery eyes and felt an immediate stab of pity. "Of course," she said and reached for the purse tucked into her belt.

"Margaret, I don't think you should—" Trevor began, but his cautionary words were cut short when the man grabbed the purse and dashed down the street.

"Oh, no!" she cried, watching the thief run away. "He's got the charm you gave, me."

"Stay here," Trevor ordered and went in pursuit of the thief. Margaret was in a quandary. She started to follow, then stopped, remembering she was supposed to obey his orders in situations like this.

But she might be missing out on an exciting adventure. Biting her lip in uncertainty, she watched Trevor and the thief disappear around the corner.

What if Trevor got into trouble and needed help? With that in mind, she sprinted after them.

She followed the pair through Rome's narrow, twisting side streets, but soon lost track of the two men. Worried about Trevor, hopelessly lost, and uncertain about what to do, Margaret hesitated. But before she could decide what action to take, she heard footsteps, and Trevor reappeared out of a side alley. He muttered a curse at the sight of her and slowed down long enough to grab her hand in his. Then he began running once again, dragging her with him. "C'mon!" he shouted. "Let's get out of here."

She heard more footsteps behind them and realized they were being chased. Two men were following them. Trevor led her down another street and into a dark alley, but a brick wall blocked the opposite end, cutting off any chance of escape. Their pursuers came closer, and Trevor pulled her down behind an enormous pile of garbage to shield both of them from view. The foul smell made her nauseous, and she pressed one hand over her nose and mouth.

"What happened?" she whispered behind her hand. "How—"

"
Ssh
," he interrupted. "Quiet."

Both of them waited, tense and silent, as the two men halted just beyond the entrance to their hiding place. They began speaking in furious Italian, obviously arguing.

"Englishman?" one of the thieves called out. "We know you are here. You might as well come out and face us."

"Hell," Trevor muttered with a heavy sigh. "For God's sake, don't move," he added to her.

"Trevor, don't," she pleaded as he started to rise.

"At this point, I don't have a choice. They're drunk and looking for a fight." He stepped out of their hiding place to face the two men.

He took several cautious steps forward, disappearing from her view. Margaret heard a scuffle and stood up, unable to stand the suspense. She watched, her heart in her throat, as Trevor ducked the blow aimed at his head by the man in the yellow cloak. He then let fly with two hard punches, hitting the thief first in the solar plexus, then beneath the jaw. The second blow sent the thief sprawling backward, and the back of his head hit the brick wall with a sickening thud. He slid down to the ground, where he lay unmoving.

But Trevor had no chance to enjoy his victory. He turned just as the second man swung at him. There was no time to duck, and the thief's fist slammed into his check. Trevor staggered back, stunned by the blow.

Margaret gave a cry of alarm. Hoping she could come to his aid, she looked frantically around for some kind of weapon. She spied a piece of wood sticking out of the garbage pile beside her. She grabbed it with her hands like a baseball bat and stepped out of her hiding place just as the thief pulled back his arm to hit Trevor again. Without thinking, she smashed the stick over the man's head.

The piece of wood snapped in half, but the damage was done. Trevor jumped out of the way as the thief fell forward onto the cobblestones, unconscious.

Still holding the broken stick in her hands, she looked up at Trevor over the thief's inert body and gave a shaky half-laugh of disbelief. "Dear God," she gasped, stunned by what she had just done. "I hit him."