Home for the Holidays, Page 4

  That jogged her memory. “Oh, yes, the new servants that haven’t proven themselves yet. Just a moment.”

  She moved quickly to her three large trunks, which had been stacked neatly like a pyramid at the foot of the bed. Rummaging through the one on top didn’t reveal her jewel box, but unfortunately, it was the heaviest trunk, since it contained her personal books. This would have been no problem if she had time to unpack it first. But with the baron waiting at the door, it was necessary to move it out of the way to get into the two trunks below it.

  She knew very well she couldn’t lift the thing herself, but she could drag it off the top with a little effort, and started to do so. But the baron’s arms were suddenly on both sides of her, reaching for the handles on the ends of the trunk to move it for her.

  He should have said he would do it. He should have let her move out of the way first. Her hear slammed in her chest. She was trapped between him and the trunks, could feel his chest against he back, his breath on her neck. She was going to faint, she knew it, knew it, was going to expin right there on the spot.

  “Sorry,” he said after an unbearably long moment, and he moved one arm to let her out of his trap.

  Again her instinct was to bolt to the other side of the room, far, far away from him. She desperately wanted to, but she refused to let him thin she was afraid of him, which was what he would surely think. He was the enemy, after all. And she wasn’t afraid, not really. What she felt was far more disturbing than fear.

  He set the heavy upper trunk aside, probabl; could have done so with one hand, it seemed so ef fortless to him. And he didn’t move back to th< doorway as would have been proper. They wen alone, after all, completely alone, in a bloody bed room no less, which went beyond improper, was ii the realm of compromising. So she dove into th< next trunk as soon as it was cleared, the sooner to get him out of there, and thankfully came up with the narrow, wooden jewel box this time.

  “There are only these few pieces that were my mother’s, and her mother’s before her,” she said as she thrust the box at him. “They are valuable, but the value is more sentimental to me than anything-“

  She gasped instead of finishing. He had placed his hand over hers on the box to take it from her, probably because he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her long enough to glance down at what he was reaching for. It was a shock to her, staring into his eyes as his warm palm slid over the top of hers, slowly, too slowly, before he finally took the box from her. She was totally undone again, blood racing so fast she really did think she would faint this time.

  That touch they had just shared, which had completely shattered her composure, meant absolutely nothing to him. He glanced down as he flipped open the box to look inside at the long strand of pearls and the pearl and ruby butterfly pin therein.

  “I understand,” he said tonelessly before looking up at her again with gold eyes that seemed even

  hotter, though it was probably just the light again that made them seem so. “And these?”

  Before she realized what he was referring to, or going to do, he flicked one of the earrings she was wearing with his finger. His other fingers brushed against her neck as he did so, an accident surely, yet she felt the shiver clear down to her toes. She swayed as her knees started to buckle. She forgot how to breathe. In a desperate effort to regain control of her senses, she closed her eyes-and heard a groan. His? Surely not.

  She focused on the subject, or what she thought was the subject. It took several long moments to dredge it up. The slamming of the lid on the jewel box helped, startled her enough to open her eyes again too.

  “The earrings are always with me, either worn or resting beside my bed when I sleep.”

  “I’m not taking any chances where you are concerned. Give them to me.”

  It was a harsh order or seemed to be, since his voice had gone quite raspy. Did he mean the earrings? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t think clearly again. But just in case, she yanked them off and thrust them at him, then nervously let them drop before his hand actually got close enough, too afraid that she might end up touching him again. It was too soon, though, and he wasn’t quite quick enough to catch them before they fell to the floor.

  Embarrassed that her nervousness was so very obvious, she thoughtlessly dropped to one knee to pick the earrings up, overlooking the fact that he might do the same. They butted heads on the way down. She lost her balance, ended up sitting on the floor. And before she could recover on her own, he was helping her up.

  This was truly her undoing. She was rendered speechless by the shock of it. Instead of offering his hand, which she most certainly wouldn’t have taken-he must have known that-he lifted her up, grasping her beneath her armpits, as one would a very small child. It should have been impossible, at least from the floor. But he used his own chest for leverage. And in those brief seconds she felt his palms near the sides of her breasts, felt those breasts pressed firmly to his chest before he let her go. Mere seconds. Yet the impressions would last her an eternity.

  The pearls hadn’t been picked up yet. He did that now, as well as retrieving the jewel box he’d

  set down while assisting her. The earrings h closed tightly in his fist rather than put them i the box. For once, he seemed as agitated as she but it was only a brief display, gone so swiftly, sh figured she must have imagined it. He did tur toward the door, however, his errand complete eager to be gone.

  She wouldn’t have stopped him. It was cruci; that he leave before she fell completely apart. Bt her mind simply wasn’t in its proper workin order, and with the trunks still in her view, she re called …

  “Oh! I was going to find your housekeeper … seem to have been put in the wrong room. I should be closer to my brother-“

  She would have said more, but he interrupte her. “You were situated correctly. I usually hav guests over the holidays, and these particula guests can’t be made to think they are being give: special treatment, you understand, when they ar business associates. And rather than move you-i you are still here at that time-it was much easie to just place you here now. Is there a problem wit! the room?”

  “Well, no, but-“

  “Good, then think nothing of it.”

  He continued out the door before she could argue further. The second the door closed, she collapsed on the bed. She was visibly trembling. Her nerves were so frayed she felt like screaming. Her heart was still beating erratically. Good God, what had that man just done to her?

  CHAPTER 6

  He closed himself in his study, where he could be assured of no interruptions. His staff was well trained, knew not to bother him with incidentals when his door was closed, his secretary being the sole exception. His bedroom would have guaranteed no interruptions at all, but his bedroom was too close to her.

  Never in his life had he gotten drunk in the afternoon. Today just might prove an exception. No that the brandy he had poured for himself seemei to be helping. He had hoped that it would caln him, or at least get his mind off of Larissa Ascot long enough for his body to settle down. It was doing neither.

  Just as he shouldn’t have gone to her door last night, he most certainly shouldn’t have sought her out in her room today. And the jewelry had merely been an excuse for him to do so. He had simply wanted to be in her presence again, had been so stimulated by her during lunch that he was loath to stay away from her when she was nearby.

  But that had been a mistake. Seeing her with a bed near to hand had brought The Seduction to mind. It was a perfect setting, after all, to begin it. And he’d thought he could handle it, was even progressing nicely-until he got caught in it himself.

  He had never felt desire like this, so completely out of his control. It still amazed him, the strength of it, and the overwhelming urge he’d had to toss her on that nearby bed and ravish her in absolute, unrestrained abandon. Not that he knew much about ravishing, or doing things without restraint, for that matter. But he knew it was too soon to do anything of the sort with h
er.

  She’d been aroused, yes-good God, how easy that had been-and likely would have offered

  only a token protest before giving in to that arousal. But that was not what he wanted. He wanted her complete surrender, wanted her begging for everything he planned to give her. Her ruination was going to be her own doing, merely helped along by him. His blasted conscience, which seemed to be rearing its silly head at this late stage in his life, wasn’t going to be pricked when he was done with her.

  He had now removed any other options for her as well, leaving her no choice but to accept his hospitality. He had already arranged for her furniture to be “stolen,” which was the story he would give her if she mentioned again needing to sell it. Having had anything of value moved to a separate location, he could even take her to the warehouse where it was stored if necessary, to show her that what remained hadn’t been worth stealing, so wasn’t worth selling either.

  And her jewels would be inaccessible for her, the key to his safe unfortunately “misplaced”-for the time being. He hadn’t locked them away yet, though, held one of the earrings in his hand now, unconsciously rubbing it along the side of his cheek. He had watched them sway in her nervousness and thump gently against her neck. They’d still been warm when he’d picked them up, her heat in them, and he’d grasped that warmth tightly in his fist on the way out the door, unwilling to let it go, when he had just forced himself to let her go.

  It was such a simple plan, this seduction. How in the bloody hell did it suddenly seem so complicated? But he knew why. He hadn’t counted on the effect she had on him, hadn’t planned on being charmed by her blushes, entranced by her beauty, fascinated by her myriad emotions, nor aroused by an innocent touch and set on fire by her own desire. He was the one who had been seduced, and most thoroughly. And he wasn’t sure if he could manage to subject himself to that again, without bringing it to a natural conclusion.

  He should distance himself, timewise, at least until he could get these unexpected reactions of his under control. Avoid her completely for a day or two. But there was no time for that. No more touching, then. The touching had been his own undoing. Surely he could conduct this seduction without physical contact. Work on her sympathies instead. Even resort to a bit of natural courtship of the less obvious sort. Seduce her mind first, then her body.

  Satisfied with the new plan, Vincent finished off the brandy and didn’t refill his glass. And he was glad of the distraction when the knock sounded at the door now. Since it was only his secretary who ever intruded here, it wasn’t surprising to see Horace Dudley enter.

  Vincent had forgotten, however, that he might need to be looking for a new secretary. A distinctly annoying thought. But just as stiff of form as he’d been last night when he marched off down that snowy street, Horace carried the promised letter of resignation in hand. Vincent didn’t give the little man a chance to present it.

  “Put that away, Mr. Dudley. I have already rectified what you found so objectionable, leaving you no reason to desert your position here.”

  “Rectified? You’ve allowed the Ascots to keep their house?”

  Vincent frowned over that absurd conclusion. “After all the effort and favors I called in to acquire it? No. But the lady is staying here until her father returns, so she won’t be sitting on some street corner, huddled in a blanket, half-buried in snow.”

  Horace cleared his throat. “I hadn’t quite imagined such a dire circumstance, m’lord, but apparently you did.”

  Vincent’s frown took on deeper lines. “Not a’tall, and beside the point,” he said briskly. “You will agree, however, that you no longer have reason to look for a new position?”

  After the tongue-lashing he had received from his wife last night over his high morals, which wouldn’t put bread on the table, Horace was happy to say, “Indeed, and thank you, m’lord.”

  “Back to work, then. You may concentrate now on those two investments we discussed last week. Oh, and summon my physician to the house.”

  “You are feeling poorly?”

  “No, but let the staff know that he’ll be here to take care of any illness or physical complaints they might have.”

  “You should know they won’t come forward, m’lord. Physicians are much too expensive for minor-“

  “I’ll take care of the charges.”

  Horace blinked. “That’s quite-generous of you. Are you sure you aren’t feeling poorly?”

  The frown became a definite scowl. “I haven’t gone daft, man, and I always have ulterior motives. Just make sure, if he’s asked by Miss Ascot, that he tells her he sees to the staff here each year at this time. And have him look in on her brother while he’s here. The boy has apparently been sick for some time now.”

  “Ah, now I understand. You don’t want her to feel indebted to you.”

  Vincent almost laughed at the misconception. Indebted would be nice, but would have to wait for something else to inspire it. His only concern now was to keep the lady from trying to pay for a physician herself. Horace didn’t need to know that, however, so Vincent merely nodded, allowing him to think what he would.

  CHAPTER 7

  Vincent managed to distract himself for the remainder of the afternoon. But by the time the dinner hour was approaching, he was so filled with anticipation of seeing his beautiful houseguest again that he knew damn well he didn’t dare. Not yet. Not when just the thought of her entering the room set his blood to racing.

  Bloody hell. This just wouldn’t do. There was the chance she might not come down to share the meal with him. But just in case she felt common courtesy would demand it, he left the house. There was only one cure for his current dilemma, and there were several residences where he could find it.

  He decided upon Lady Catherine. A widow of several years, she never failed to welcome him into her home. And since she was somewhat of a recluse, he rarely found her already entertaining when he called on her, as tended to be the case with the other women he shared company with. He didn’t keep a mistress, had never found the need to when he had so many invitations from the women of his acquaintance that he couldn’t keep track of them all. The few he regularly visited were the least complicated of the lot, enjoyed the independence that widowhood gave them, and wanted from him no more than he was willing to give, or at least strived to give that impression.

  Catherine was a handsome woman a few years older than Vincent. She was indebted to him. He had arranged for her to acquire the house of her dreams, the one she had fallen in love with as a child and had wanted ever since. She had been unable to convince the owner to sell to her when she’d become a rich widow. It was how Vincent had met her, when he’d heard what she was after.

  He hadn’t lied to Larissa when he’d told her how he made his fortune. Catherine had paid him an exorbitant fee for finding out what it would take to get the owner of the house to sell-in that particular case, a racing stable in Kent which the man had never thought to acquire himself, even though he was an avid horseman, and an invitation to meet the queen, both easily obtainable.

  Catherine was still indebted, or felt she was. She really did love her house. Vincent often wondered if that was why there was always plenty of extra food available when he showed up unexpectedly, even though Catherine would otherwise have eaten alone.

  The lavish meal, he enjoyed as usual, for she had a splendid cook. He even enjoyed her company, her fine wit able to amuse him occasionally, when he was a man who didn’t find much amusing. She expected him to stay the night with her. He had planned to. It was why he was there. But as much as he had been overcome with desire that day, he felt absolutely none that evening.

  It wasn’t Catherine’s fault. She was as lovely and accommodating as usual. It was Larissa’s fault. She still wouldn’t leave his thoughts, even for the few hours he spent with another woman.

  He left directly after the meal. Catherine was disappointed and had trouble hiding it, though she tried. He’d never done that before. But had
he stayed, he probably would have embarrassed them both.

  He returned home with dread, though, knowing full well that he was going to have a problem with Larissa’s close proximity that night. How utterly insane, to have put her in that particular room, with no locks on the doors between them. There were no guests expected over the holidays. He had wanted her where he could reach her. He had been thinking, foolishly, of after The Seduction, when he expected to continue to share her bed, at least until her father’s return, and so had arranged the easiest access to it. He had not counted on being tempted beyond reason before he had her.

  He’d been right. He was unable to sleep. He’d been right, too, that he’d be unable to resist entering her room that night. He had an excuse ready, in case she awoke. She didn’t. She slept very soundly. He didn’t even try to be quiet, wanted her to wake. She didn’t. She was driving him crazy.

  Somehow, and he’d never know where he dredged up the will, he managed to get out of there without disturbing her. He even managed to get to sleep, probably because it was now near dawn. He’d actually spent most of the night in her room in a state of heightened anticipation that had finally drained him to exhaustion.