The Seduction (Notorious 1)

He guided her hand, letting her fingers trace slowly over his features. With a breath of a sigh, Vanessa closed her eyes, exploring the planes and angles of his beautiful face, learning the masculine shape, the unique contours, the subtle flex of flesh and bone.

The sensation was new to her, and yet somehow heart familiar. In her dreams she had touched him like this, savoring the warmth of his skin, the faint rasp of stubble that shadowed his jaw, the flow of his breath when her fingers sketched the pliant curve of his mouth.

“What do you feel?”

What she felt was a stirring of heat deep within her, a softening, a melting. What she felt was wonder at the breathless enchantment he wrapped around her so effortlessly. What she felt was longing.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she stared up at him, dazed.

The silver eyes were tender and knowing. But he made no further move.

He knew his power over her, knew how dangerously sensual he was. And yet he was not prepared to take advantage of her, it seemed.

“No,” he murmured, his voice dropping to the husk of a whisper. “You are not yet ready.”

Without taking his eyes off her, he brought her fingers to his lips to kiss their pale tips slowly, lingeringly.

Then just as gently, he released her.

“I won’t press you further tonight, sweeting. When you finally share my bed, it will seem as right to you as it does to me.”

The velvet promise in his voice echoed in her mind long after he was gone. Remembering, Vanessa shuddered. She was still quivering from the enchanting fire he had aroused deep within her. Still trembling with the sweet, intimate feelings his tenderness had stirred.

She looked down, staring at her fingers. Impossibly, she could still feel the imprint of his burning kiss and the brand of his soft lips. But it was the inexplicable yearnings in her heart that frightened her more.

Chapter Seven

She had never thought her role at Rosewood would be an easy one, but neither had she expected her emotions to be so conflicted. In only a short time, both Sinclairs had managed to affect her beyond reason-Damien captivating her senses and enmeshing her in his sensual spell, and young Olivia tugging powerfully at her heart.

Her response to Damien bewildered and disturbed Vanessa most. She didn’t at all like the tender feelings he aroused in her. It was foolish in the extreme to allow herself to become emotionally drawn to him. She had to remember that her seduction was a game to him, driven by revenge, and she was his prey.

She almost wished he would end the uncertainty. For whatever reason he had given her a stay of execution, holding off the fulfill

ment of their bargain. But Vanessa had nearly reached the point where the prospect of sharing his bed was not as distressing as the strain of waiting for the ax to fall. She could not contemplate the sexual act with anything but dread, nor could she, in the cold light of day, bring herself to believe Damien’s supposition that she might be a passionate woman.

The sooner they consummated their brazen bargain, Vanessa reasoned, the sooner he would discover the truth about her, and the sooner he would end his tormenting pursuit. Once he saw what poor sport she was, he would tire of his game and of her, perhaps even send her packing.

Except for the threat hanging over her head, however, her life here was far more pleasurable than she had a right to hope for. It seemed especially strange not to have to constantly worry about making ends meet. For the past two years she’d spent a significant part of each day determining how best to stretch a farthing, but cost was no object to Damien when it came to his sister’s recovery. He agreed readily when Vanessa suggested bringing in a dressmaker and milliner to raise Olivia’s spirits.

Olivia refused to leave the estate for any reason, even to shop, but Vanessa believed it would be beneficial if the girl could be persuaded to take an interest in her appearance.

“But I have no need for new gowns,” Olivia protested, showing renewed evidence of a stubborn streak. “I have nowhere to wear them, since I never plan on going out again.”

“Perhaps not,” Vanessa cajoled, “but my sister Fanny believes there is nothing like a new bonnet to make one feel pretty, and you could do with a shawl or two for our visits to the garden. Besides, you will need a bathing costume for the bath your brother is constructing for you in the conservatory.”

When the milliner arrived with her wares, proffering bonnets trimmed with ribbons and bows and lace and ostrich feathers, Olivia did find two she particularly admired.

“I suppose the bonnets sold in London are more elegant than those found here in the country,” she said to Vanessa rather wistfully when they were alone again.

“Not always, although prices are more exorbitant there.”

“It must be wonderful to live in London.”

“I don’t much care for town, actually.”

“No? But there is so much to do, so much to see. Lending libraries and bookshops and museums, plays and opera performances…”

“Those are advantages, indeed, but I was thinking of the social whirl.”