Seduced by the Scoundrel (Danger and Desire 2)

‘Tell me what he has done.’

Averil explained, not at all certain that Luc would believe her. Her father would, she was certain. But would another man?

Luc’s face darkened. ‘The man contemplates the murder of a woman and child as he might consider destroying a wasps’ nest. It would do the world a service to remove him from it. And that harpy of a mother of his. But I suppose one cannot, not without evidence.’

‘No,’ Averil agreed. ‘But you understand why I cannot marry him.’

‘Of course. Thank God you ran before they discovered you had overheard.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Tell me the but.’

Averil bit her lower lip, struggling to find the way to express what she wanted. In the end she simply said, ‘I will be your mistress for two weeks in exchange for my passage back to India, Grace’s wages as my companion on the voyage and enough money to cover my expenses to Calcutta.’

He was silent, watching her with an impenetrable, heavy gaze over the top of steepled fingers.

‘I know it isn’t for very long, and it will be a lot of money and I won’t be very good, although I am a virgin and men seem to set a lot of store by that, so I suppose that is something, and I will do my best.’

He held up one hand and she trailed to a halt, red-cheeked and breathless with embarrassment and nerves.

‘What is your plan if I refuse?’ He might have been discussing naval tactics in a meeting except that he had gone white under his tan.

‘I have none.’

‘So you are desperate and I am your only hope?’

‘Yes.’

‘Flattering,’ he remarked.

But I love you! The words she could not say were bitter on her tongue. What could she say? That if she was not desperate she would still have come to him? No. Nor would she have seen him again if her father’s lawyer had given her the money. She would have written to say goodbye, that was all. So he had every right to feel used.

‘I am sorry. I thought you wanted me.’ ‘Oh, I do, my dear. Very much. I was hoping you would come because you wanted me, too—and for rather longer than two weeks.’ He closed his eyes and she wondered if his headache was still very bad. ‘For much longer,’ he said and opened them again.

‘But the ship sails then and in any case, the third week wouldn’t be …’ Her voice trailed away. Possibly it was possible to blush even redder, but she doubted it.

‘In three weeks your not-to-be mother-in-law would have known you were not with child?’ he enquired. ‘There is no need to colour up like a peony, I am aware of how females work, you know.’ Luc did not sound at all like a man who had just heard that his physical desires were to be gratified. ‘Are you not afraid that two weeks as my mistress will leave you pregnant?’

Yes, it was possible to become more embarrassed. Averil studied her gloved hands intently. ‘I overheard two married women talking at the reception. They have lovers, I think. And then I asked Grace about what they said and she told me that there is a way if the man …’

‘I see. So I have two very expensive weeks teaching you how to make love and I have to withdraw every time?’ His voice was flat; she could not tell whether he was furiously angry with her or disgusted and bored. Had she hurt him?

‘Yes,’ she said. A seam in her glove split and with it her nerve. ‘I am sorry. I should never have come here, never have asked. It is quite unreasonable of me, I can see that. I will go away.’ The wave of flat despair blacked out even the fear of not knowing what she could do now. All she could think of was that she would never see Luc again, never lie in his arms, never show him how much she loved him even if she could not say the words.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘Averil.’ She looked up as Luc knelt in front of her and caught her hand. The glimpse of pale skin through the split glove seam was deeply affecting. It was erotic, but it also made him feel a strange tenderness, almost enough to wash away the hurt that she had come to him not because she wanted him but because he was the only person she could sell herself to.

‘It is not unreasonable, quite the contrary—it is quite delightful of you,’ he said, instinct telling him to keep his voice light. He could not beg her to stay for ever, not when she was so desperate to leave that she would do this thing. ‘I must admit that two months would be better and I do hope you will not ruin any more expensive gloves while in my keeping, but I agree to your terms.’

The hazel eyes that looked into his with such earnestness were dark and troubled. There was real fear lurking there. She must have been at her wits’ end to have come to him, he knew that. He was her last resort. If he had not taken her in, what would she have done? The options were bleak and the least dreadful of them would be to return to Bradon.

Her desperation put her feelings for him in stark context: becoming his mistress was better than selling herself on the streets, better than throwing herself in the Thames and preferable to returning to a man who terrified and disgusted her. His pride kicked at the realisation. And there was something else, a feeling he could not identify except as an ache. He pushed the pain and resentment to the back of his mind; it was time to put his own feelings to one side and think only of her.

As he spoke her eyes lost focus and he realised she was near to fainting with relief. ‘Drink your coffee. Have you eaten today?’ She shook her head. Luc got to h

is feet and tugged the bell. ‘Hughes, some food for Miss Heydon.’

As the manservant vanished to the scullery he contemplated his new mistress. His mouth felt dry, his loins were heavy with desire. Not now, he thought, willing his clamouring body into some kind of obedience. She was virginal, distressed, determined. Exhausted. He needed to get her safe so she could rest before he so much as kissed her fingertips. That did it all over again; he could only be grateful that she was too preoccupied to notice his rampant arousal and be alarmed even more.

‘I’ll go and get dressed,’ he said as Hughes brought in a tray and began to set an omelette and bread and butter and preserves on the table. ‘Eat, you’ll feel better.’