Dangerous Beauty Page 11

  “I was horrible to my mother.”

  “Did she deserve it?”

  “Well…perhaps. She was being a hypocrite.”

  Seth sat back suddenly and his eyes darkened even more. It was like watching the sky to guess the mood of the coming weather. She could read his anger in his eyes.

  “About me,” he said flatly.

  Should she tell him the truth? He had honored her with the truth of his past—and had held almost nothing back.

  “Yes,” she admitted finally. Reluctantly.

  He abruptly stood and turned, as if he sought a direction to move. His hands curled into fists.

  Natasha scrambled to her feet and grasped his arm. “Seth, it is only what all of London says about you.” His arm under her fingers was iron hard with muscle. “If you spend your fury upon my family, then you must spend it upon the whole city. The whole country. They can only judge by what they see and all you have shown them is a man convicted of murder, who tore his family apart.”

  He whirled suddenly to face her. “Is that what you think? That I want to wring their necks for what they think of me?”

  She hesitated, dropped her hand from his arm. “Is it not what angers you?”

  “For the love of…” He wrapped his arm about her waist and drew her to him, and Natasha did not try to pull away even though her heart hammered loud enough to wake the dead. He pulled slowly, as if he did not want to startle her, until she was held tight against him and she could feel the heat of his body against hers. She found herself gazing into his eyes, held by the swirling emotion there.

  His fingers touched her cheekbone again, gently. “My anger is not for what they say of me, my sweet Natasha. It’s for the pain I have delivered upon you. I would do all I can to rid myself of this wretched past of mine—all but put you in danger.”

  “This was no doing of yours.”

  “Would you have defied your family if the criminal they disparaged had not been me?” he asked, his voice low.

  Natasha swallowed. His nearness was making her thoughts blur. She could not think beyond the need to have him run his hand all over her. Her breasts ached for his touch.

  He shook her a little, to emphasize his words. “I asked this of you once before, but now you have had the full story, you should get to choose again. Send me away, Natasha. Tell me to go, and I will.”

  “Will you ever hurt me, Seth Harrow?”

  “Not I, but there are things in my life, people—”

  She placed her fingers against his lips and thrilled at the touch of the soft flesh against hers. “But you will not ever hurt me, in spirit or in body?”

  He took a deep breath. “I would kill and be a murderer for true than allow any harm be done to you.”

  “Then that is all that matters, isn’t it? The rest is for later.”

  His mouth slanted over hers in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. One hand braced the back of her head, the other cupped her jaw. His tongue eased her lips open, and he groaned low in his throat when she allowed him entry. He tasted like mint, sweet and cool, and she heard herself moan, could do nothing to stop it.

  The fingers at her jaw slipped down her neck, over the pulse beating wildly, down further to the swell of her breasts. She caught her breath in surprise at the touch, which was at once familiar and strange.

  Seth paused, lifting his head up to check her face. Her stomach tightened as she read the desire in the silver depths. The raw need. His eyes asked a silent question. She smiled and kissed him for her answer and his lips were hot against hers. God help her, but she did not want him to stop.

  She found she was arching her back, almost offering herself to him. She wanted his hand over her breast, without impeding cloth or corsetry, but she didn’t know how to speak the wish aloud even though it throbbed in her veins in thick demand. His lips lifted from hers, and his hand from her breast.

  She stifled her protest when she realized that he was addressing the buttons on the front of her day dress. Her heart leapt high.

  He stared into her eyes. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

  She slid her hand beneath his and loosened the button below the one he tackled, then nimbly slipped the rest undone, well below her waist. The dress sagged open, revealing the satin covering of her corset and the camisole beneath.

  Seth’s fingers hovered over the swell of her breasts above the lace edges of the camisole. He seemed afraid to touch her flesh, although his gaze was riveted upon her décolletage.

  Understanding flared in her. He was as unsure of seducing a maiden, as the maiden was unsure of how to make it happen. She tugged at the bow holding the camisole closed, unraveling it. The camisole spread open, and with an impatient jerk, she pulled the sleeves of her dress and the straps of the camisole down both shoulders.

  Her breasts were not quite fully exposed, but they were as easily accessible as the wearing of a corset would allow.

  In her mind, she saw Vaughn’s hands on Elisa’s breasts, her dress sinking around her shoulders… She took Seth’s hand and placed it against the flesh of her breasts and gasped at the touch of his hot flesh. Even through the thin cotton of the camisole, her nipples reacted to the touch, tightening up into hard buds.

  Seth groaned and his grip around her waist tightened, bringing her hips hard against him once more. His hand swept over the flesh of her shoulders, the thumb stroking with a gentle caress.

  Then, with considerably more expertise than she, he pushed the camisole down, revealing all of her breasts except for the underside, which was supported by the corset.

  Natasha caught her breath. No man had ever seen her breasts before this moment. She was aware of the trembling sweeping through her, even as the moist flesh between her legs throbbed. Seth kissed her shoulder. He actually licked the skin, sending a quiver through her. His lips began to kiss and smooth their way down to the upper swell of her breast. Natasha found she was holding her breath, knowing he was about to take her nipple into his mouth. She wondered what it would feel like.

  When his lips finally closed over her distended, sensitive nipple, she threw her head back with a hard moaning gasp. The pleasure! It leapt a hundred times higher, as his teeth—yes, his teeth actually tugged on it and his tongue laved the nipple and the flesh around it. She thought she would die if he stopped…or if he did not stop. Her world, her life, narrowed down to focus on that delicious sensation that sent spiraling, climbing waves of excitement through her.

  She felt the tickle of his hair against her shoulders, neck…and her hand. She realized her hand had buried itself in his hair and was encouraging him with a restless arching of her fingers. Her other hand was at his shoulder, holding him against her. Such wantonness!

  But then his mouth caught her other nipple and her thoughts were lost in the maelstrom of deafening pleasure swooshing through her. She was hot and cold at once, racked with shivers of delight. Her clothes were an impediment—she longed to be rid of them.

  She felt soft support at her back and realized that Seth had laid her upon the settee. She was pleased rather than alarmed. Now he had two hands to provide pleasure. Her thighs fell restlessly apart beneath her skirts and she wished she had the audacity to pull her skirts aside, to give him complete access to the hot, wet juncture of her thighs.

  The flesh there felt thick and swollen and it throbbed with a beat that matched her heart. With each little frisson of delight that his mouth imparted to her breasts, the pleasure was echoed there. The place where his tongue had stroked now responded with silvery spasms. Perhaps…perhaps she might experience once again that explosion of the senses she had felt before.

  But Seth was pulling away, lifting her hands from him.

  “No!” Her voice was husky, weak. “No, don’t stop. Please.”

  “Hush, lass. Hush.” His hand on her wrist was gentle, but firm. “We must stop now, while I have will enough to leave ye be.”

  He was returning her camisole to rights, covering her breasts
and fastening the buttons of her dress as he spoke. His eyes were half-closed, but beneath the lowered lids she could see that the irises were wide and dark, consuming the silver gray.

  “But…” She could say no more, for humiliation seemed to be swallowing her. Hot, hard tears were gathering into an indigestible lump in the back of her throat and burned her eyes.

  Seth glanced at her face and then looked back. His hands stilled. “Don’t look at me like that,” he pleaded.

  “You don’t want me, after all,” she said, forcing the words past the restriction in her throat. It hurt to speak them.

  His brows rushed together. “Ye don’t understand, Natasha. It’s because I want ye that I must not take ye.”

  “No, I don’t understand,” she said and then the tears spilled. She sat on the sofa, feeling a helpless mortification as they slid down her cheeks.

  Seth wiped them with his thumb and sat back. “You’re the most confounding woman, Natasha. A maiden like you…does your virtue mean nothing to you?”

  “I resent it,” she said truthfully. “To keep it means I cannot experience…” She could feel herself blushing furiously—her face glowed hot. “I cannot experience that which you gave me…at the ball.” She dropped her gaze to her lap, unable to look into his eyes as she finished.

  “Ah—” He sounded almost relieved, which made her lift her chin, surprised, to look at him again. He was smiling a little, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “If that’s all it is, then your virtue is no barrier.” His thumb stroked her cheek again, although her tears had almost dried. “Who would have suspected the wanton that lies beneath these elegant silks and ruffles?”

  “You did,” Natasha said flatly.

  His hand fell away and his eyes grew darker. “Yes,” he agreed.

  “But the pleasure you speak of…it is not all of the matter, is it?”

  “No.” His eyes were even stormier now. She was drowning in their turbulent gaze. “But until our union is accepted by all of London, that is all it must be. Do you understand, Natasha?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.” She understood clearly. The final act, the hazy, barely understood concept of a man taking a woman…it was the one she craved above all else, but would not have. Not now. Not until Seth had taken on all of London…and won.

  * * * * *

  “So, what do you think of Seth?” Elisa asked Natasha, a knowing smile on her lips.

  It was the day after Seth had gently refused to seduce her. Much had happened in the twenty-four hours that had passed since then.

  Natasha had returned home in Vaughn’s carriage, bracing herself for the confrontation with her parents, but when she had arrived home, her father merely nodded his greeting at her before sinking back behind the broadsheet he was reading.

  Natasha stared at the masthead of the newspaper, puzzled. He must have known what had happened, for he had not risen to his feet and kissed her temple, as he tended to do upon returning home.

  But neither was he standing at the fireplace, whiskey glass in hand, waiting for her, as he always did when she had transgressed his demands in some way. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

  Finally, she turned away from him, intending to go to her bedroom.

  “Natasha.” Her father’s voice halted her, a pace from the door. She faced him once more. He lowered the paper enough to look at her over the top of it. His expression was bleak. “You’re a grown woman and even though you are a woman, you have an excellent mind. Because I know that you are capable of making good decisions, I will not gainsay those decisions, so long as they do not affect your duties to your family or to me.”

  She nodded. Her duty to the family had been long preached to her—to find and marry a peer of the realm and bear him a suitable heir. “I understand, Father.”

  “I have explained this to your mother.” No wonder her mother was nowhere to be seen! To be told her daughter was free to think and make her own decisions… Her mother must have expired on the spot.

  “Thank you,” she said, inadequately. She waved towards the door. “I must change for dinner.”

  “A moment.” He cleared his throat and the paper lowered a little more. “You should know, Natasha, that even though Wardell is accepted by polite society and his reputation is impeccable, there are whispers. You know a little of his history and his wife’s. Be wary of being seen too much in their sympathy, daughter.”

  Then, in a blazing rush, she understood that her father and mother had no idea that Vaughn and Elisa were harboring Seth in their house. If they even suspected this fact, they would surely lock her in her bedroom for the rest of her life.

  She took a deep breath. “Thank you for your confidence, Father.” And she hurried from the room before her burning face gave lie to her demeanor.

  Her sleep had been restless and broken as she felt the true burden of her conscience.

  She found only one small seed of comfort; she was making the best decision she could with information she had that no one other than Vaughn and Elisa shared. She trusted Seth and must stand by him.

  Her mother did not appear downstairs until noon the next day and she was silent and pale, picking at her lunch. When Natasha rose from the table and called for her shawl and bonnet, her mother showed the first sign of real animation that day.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded. “I am visiting Elisa again this afternoon. She is holding a formal afternoon tea.”

  Her mother blanched even whiter and the veins in her forehead stood out.

  “But…” Then she caught herself. “Will there be anyone else in attendance. Anyone we know?”

  “Lady Danforth, I believe. And Sophia, Baroness Luciano.” These ladies were solid pillars of society, their reputations unimpeachable.

  Natasha relented a little, for her mother was very pale. She added gently, “I will take care to make sure my reputation is not sullied, Mother. Father spoke to me last night.”

  Caroline bit her lip and stirred her tea furiously. “Very well then,” she muttered. But she had not said goodbye.

  After Elisa’s elegant and most proper tea party, the ladies Danforth and Luciano had departed for their respective city mansions and townhouses, to prepare for a small soiree they both were attending that evening.

  Elisa had suggested that Natasha accompany her on a stroll through the Park, and Natasha had tried to refuse, for she was seething with frustration. Seth had not made an appearance all afternoon. Neither had Vaughn, but Seth’s absence was as tangible as a sore tooth. She had barely managed polite conversation with the ladies at the tea party and she tried to put off Elisa’s request for a walk in the park with the same lack of grace.

  But Elisa had insisted with a gentle firmness that Natasha found difficult to refuse. Now, at four o’clock, she found herself walking along one of the many graveled paths in Hyde Park, this one less traveled than the others.

  Elisa had seemed preoccupied and Natasha wondered if it was the babe she carried that took her attention, but could not bring herself to ask such an indelicate question.

  Then Elisa had asked her own indelicate question about Seth.

  “How do I feel about him?” Natasha repeated, giving herself time to collect an answer together.

  Her feelings were not straightforward at all and she barely knew what words to use, or even how to voice them aloud. “I think he is very handsome,” she ventured, inadequately.

  “Is that all?”

  Natasha lifted her brow at her friend’s bluntness. “Well, I confess I am attracted to him.”

  Elisa stopped walking and turned to face her. “Attracted? That sounds so very…mild.”

  Natasha felt her cheeks heat. “What is it that you want to know? You want me to use shocking words?”

  “I want nothing but the truth.” Elisa’s voice was mellow, but there was a core of relentlessness there that told Natasha Elisa would have her way in this—that truth was the only coinage with which Elisa would deal. Elisa looked up at her,
for she was somewhat shorter than Natasha, and smiled a little, her eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight. “So, tell me how you feel about Seth?”

  “He scares me,” Natasha blurted, then hurried to amend the indictment. “But he also makes me feel…” How could she speak of concepts, which she barely could hold in her own mind? “Oh, I do not have the words for this!” She rested her hand against her midriff. “It’s all in here, a hot stew of dilemmas. My own feelings fight against each other, even as they fight against my family and against Seth himself.”

  Elisa laid her hand on Natasha’s arm. “Be calm, Natasha. Be calm. Tell me. Why do you fight Seth?”

  And suddenly, just like that, the words were there. Natasha explained it all, as Elisa slipped her hand under Natasha’s arm and coaxed her into walking again. As they walked, Natasha would seize upon a fragment of feelings within her and convey it, and then another would present itself, then another.

  And piece-by-piece, with simple words, she revealed it all.

  Elisa was silent for a while once Natasha finished speaking.

  She gave a little laugh. “To think I once believed you to be a fragile, fragrant rose, empty-headed beyond the single-minded ambition to find a husband. I had no idea…”

  “I was once all of those things, Elisa. Vaughn changed it. He showed me—both of you showed me—the value of truth. Oh, not just spoken truth, but the hard truth.”

  “The truth that sits deep inside you and resents even your own probing?” Elisa finished.

  “Yes.” Natasha felt relief. Elisa understood this, too.

  “Then you believe Seth. Believe his story, his innocence.”

  “I believe his story, yes. I believe he is not a murderer or a criminal. But he is not an innocent, Elisa. There is…” She struggled to put her finger upon her fear. “There is a fury in him, a well of anger. I believe that he is capable of all which they charged. And I think that is what most people see, that anger and because of it, they are forced to believe the charges.”