The Seduction (Notorious 1)

At his provocative tone, she sent him a sharp glance. He was deliberately reminding her of their recent intimacy.

Vanessa gave herself a fierce mental shake, not wanting to remember the taste of his kiss or the sensation of his hot mouth on her breasts. Such lascivious behavior was so unlike her. She’d never been aroused by her husband, not once in their endless year of marriage. Carnal relations had been a duty, an extremely unpleasant one. And she felt sure she would find it just as unpleasant to surrender to a dissolute rake like Lord Si

n, no matter how skilled he was at lovemaking and charming the fair sex.

Her thoughts were thus preoccupied as she moved to fetch her pelisse, so that when he came up behind her, she flinched.

“Easy, sweeting,” he murmured in a tone he might use to soothe a frightened mare.

With great reluctance, she accepted his aid in donning her pelisse, and when he turned her to face him, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, she stood tensely before him.

She wanted to flee, to escape his overwhelming nearness, but he would not let her draw away. Instead he stood looking down at her, holding her captive with his penetrating gaze.

“Be assured, I don’t intend to harm you, Vanessa,” he vowed softly. “I am merely going to seduce you.”

Vanessa felt herself flush. Harming her and seducing her would be one and the same, she had little doubt. Lord Sinclair was a boldly sensuous man, dangerous, fascinating.

He would prove her ruin, she feared.

She wondered if he would demand another kiss, or worse, but thankfully he released her. Without replying, she made her escape.

When he was alone, Damien returned to the window to watch thoughtfully. A moment later he saw Lady Wyndham emerge from the house and descend the front steps, her hood drawn around her face to protect her anonymity.

The driver handed her into the hackney, then climbed aboard and set the team in motion. Yet long after the carriage had faded from sight, Damien remained where he was, staring down pensively, his thoughts in a strange turmoil.

What the devil had he gotten himself into? He hadn’t meant for events to unfold as they had. The last thing he needed just now was a mistress to complicate his life. Certainly not the determined, defensive elder sister of the man he’d sworn to destroy.

He had given the lady every chance to refuse his offer, expecting her to back down from his outrageous proposal. Yet he had to confess pleasure at the prospect of her fulfilling the wager. Intense pleasure.

Damien shook his head in bemusement. When was the last time he had felt such anticipation? The last time his pulse raced at the mere thought of having a woman in his arms, the way it did with Vanessa Wyndham?

“Forever,” he murmured to himself.

It had been an eternity since anyone had made such an impression on him, if indeed ever. He had tasted the charms of Europe’s most beautiful women, and no one had intrigued him quite the way Vanessa Wyndham did, with her stunning combination of defiance and vulnerability and beauty. It was remarkable, the hunger she roused in him so effortlessly.

Briefly he shut his eyes, remembering the taste of her, the delicious feel of her ripe breasts straining for his touch… and his own wild reaction. A simple embrace had inflamed him beyond reason. He’d nearly lost his head, his blood surging thick and hot. Even now the memory affected him.

Damien stiffened as heated images of her flickered before his mind’s eye. He envisioned her naked in his bed, lush and wanton, arching against him as he explored the mysteries of her silken body…

The sensual image set him on fire.

“Have a care, man,” he muttered under his breath. Roughly he locked his jaw against the sudden, painful swelling in his loins.

But then his unexpected arousal had a likely explanation. It had been weeks since he’d enjoyed a woman- weeks spent at his country estate in Warwickshire keeping his injured sister company. He wasn’t accustomed to abstinence. The exquisite Silver Swann had been the last warm body in his bed, in a long line of warm bodies, and he’d been forced to abandon her abruptly when he learned the news of his sister’s crippling fall.

In apology, he’d instructed his secretary to send the actress an emerald necklace to match the bracelet he’d already given her, with a charming note implying that she should find herself another protector. He hadn’t had the opportunity-or, frankly, the desire-to touch another woman until his lovely visitor this morning…

His thoughts again claimed by Vanessa Wyndham, Damien abruptly turned away from the window and gave the bellpull a sharp tug to summon his secretary.

What the devil is so special about her? Why he should find the lady so provocative, so enticing, particularly considering her obvious dislike-perhaps even fear-of him was beyond rationalization.

But he wanted her. And he intended to have her.

His motives were not particularly noble, he admitted. His first base impulse had been to ruin Rutherford’s sister the way his own had been ruined. Forcing Lady Wyndham to serve as his mistress would be a fitting-if incomplete- vengeance.

But that was before he’d kissed her, tasted her…

Damien frowned, wondering why his conscience should suddenly stab him. Was there really any need for him to feel contrition? At her pleading, he’d given up a fortune and the chance to destroy his sister’s seducer. And despite her reluctance, Vanessa Wyndham had bargained herself like any courtesan, traded her body for the chance to save her family.