Read Invitation to Scandal Online
Authors: Bronwen Evans
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
Invitation to Scandal (3 page)
He crouched down and gripped the barrel with two large hands. “I look forward to a reward for my services.”
“A ‘thank-you’ will suffice.”
His lips curved into a wicked grin. “Surely, rescuing a damsel in distress is worth more than mere words?”
She tried to calm her racing heart lest he see how his threat unsettled her. She needed to shift his thoughts in a different direction. “I do not have any coin on me.”
He looked up at her. “You have very succulent lips. A kiss from them would be worth any amount of coin.”
She pressed back against the tree. His eyes betrayed him. He was trying to distract her. He was purposely taking her mind off the pain to come.
“That is not funny.” She scowled at him.
His laugh was rich and deep. And infectious.
“You think I am jesting,” he replied.
She watched completely enthralled as he lifted the heavy cask pinning her legs. The muscles of his shoulders grouped and rippled under his tight coat as he set about moving the barrel. It was infuriating that it took him only one almighty heave, and she was free.
Blood rushed back into her numb legs. She gritted her teeth and held in the tears. Her legs buckled under the excruciating pain. She opened her mouth to scream. Instead she did something she had never done in her life.
She fainted dead away.
Rheda’s eyes slowly flickered open, and she saw a canopy of blue sky above her. For several minutes, while she recovered her senses, she lay on the fragrant grass, enjoying the sunshine and the sensation of firm, strong hands expertly stroking her legs ...
She bolted into a sitting position and tried to slap off the far-too-familiar hands.
“What do you think you are doing?” she forced out in a wobbly voice, her body heating with shame. She’d actually been taking pleasure in his touch. She tried to gather her legs to her chest, but his hands tightened around her ankles.
“I am merely trying to help the blood flow back into your limbs.” He flashed a smile so roguish, it had Rheda nearly succumbing to his charm. Then he added, “It has been the most pleasant of tasks. You have extremely pretty legs.”
Don’t blush. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Shall I continue?” Without waiting for a reply he slid his long, lean fingers up under her dress.
She followed their path with her eyes. She seemed frozen—his touch calming her into submission—much as her touch did with her horses. He stroked up her stocking-covered leg, the sensation very seductive. It was shockingly so, once his fingers met the bare skin of her thigh.
Rheda felt a sudden warmth pool in her stomach. She had never experienced such a purely primal, feminine reaction to a man’s touch before. But then she’d never allowed any man such freedom with her person.
She dragged her gaze from his hands, up his broad chest and wide shoulders, onward past his perfectly tied cravat. This man was too handsome for her own good. Like a poisonous eel, he looked harmless, but a touch could be deadly.
His eyes darkened, reminding her of the hot chocolate she’d drunk this morning. They locked with hers, causing heat to sear along her nerve endings, where previously she’d had no feeling at all.
“Your legs may experience some tingling once the circulation starts working properly.”
Oh, she tingled all right.
“That is enough, thank you.” He did not loosen his grip on her ankles. “My legs are perfectly fine.”
“Now that I have freed you,” he said in a voice as smooth as the fine French brandy she held in her barrel, “you will return the favor by helping me.”
The hairs on her arms prickled. This could not be good. If he discovered her true identity, it would get back to Daniel. If that happened, Daniel would definitely put an end to her activities. She needed more time ... Not only that, they could be in serious trouble, accused of participating in free trade.
His next words threw her off balance.
“You’re very tempting, you know.” His voice and the fire in his teasing eyes were having a similar seductive effect as the alcohol would have.
Who was she fooling? She’d been off balance the minute he’d gazed upon her.
“Your beauty cannot be disguised by these rags. I see someone has given you fine silk stockings, your lover perhaps. He must be a wealthy man.”
“I have no lover.”
Rheda could tell by the quirk of his brow that he did not believe her. A woman dressed as she was, with hidden silk stockings. No wonder he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.
She shook her head. “Besides, I had nothing to do with the face God bestowed on me. It is not meant to entice you. I cannot help how I look.”
He nodded. “No more than I can help wanting to glory in it.”
With those husky words, he rose over her, slowly pressing her back into the fresh green grass. She felt every inch of his lean, hard body, and his masculine scent filled her nostrils. Rheda’s body betrayed her, welcoming the feel of him; the aroma of sandalwood and virile man became a heady rush that enhanced all her senses.
His lips hovered by her ear as he ran his hand slowly up the inside of her leg. His fingers found the top of her thigh, and with a small cry, she pushed her hands against his shoulders and squirmed beneath him. She tried to twist away from his touch, but he captured her wrists in his other hand and thrust them on the ground above her head.
“Come now, do not play coy with me. You are old enough to know the games men and women play. I would give you great pleasure. I would satisfy you more than any of your other lovers.”
She’d had no other lovers
. How could she make him believe that?
. How could she make him believe that?
Before she could respond, his lips found hers in a drugging kiss. The slight stubble around his chin was abrasive on her skin—Rheda decided she liked the feeling. He played with her lower lip, sucking it between his, gently nipping. It made her light-headed. His tongue probed the entrance to her mouth until she surrendered and opened to him. His tongue swept in, and a tremor rocked her. He tasted divine. Like the waves crashing on the rocks, something wild and wanton unlocked and broke free. She embraced the madness his kiss was unleashing within her.
She’d never experienced a kiss like it. With each heaving breath she could feel her breasts pushing against a solid wall of muscle, and to her horror, her nipples hardened. Her gasp formed a tangled knot in her throat. She could not speak. She could only feel the heat of his hand burning her skin where he touched her, igniting bewildering forces in her blood.
Finally he drew back. “What is your name?” he murmured as he lightly tickled the back of her knee.
Rheda’s brain spun. She could not give him her name; things had gone too far. She could barely think with his hand stroking her leg. Her heated skin turned maddeningly sensitive to his touch. It was humiliating to have one’s body react wantonly at the mere touch of a stranger, even if he was the most attractive man she’d ever clapped eyes upon. She shivered and jerked involuntarily, the movement causing his muscled thigh to slip between her legs.
He flashed a smile full of sin and pressed his thigh against the most intimate part of her. Sizzling warmth flooded her lower body, making her burn with mortification. Her heart pounded in a frantic beat as she realized for the first time in her life she was aroused—aroused and infuriated.
“Do not ... Get your hands off me.”
Ignoring her words, Lord Strathmore’s lips pressed lightly to her neck and he whispered, “Where did you get the barrel?”
Rheda froze at his words. The haze of frightening desire swirling around her vanished. This was not about a man wanting to pleasure a woman; he was trying to seduce her for information.
Why did he wish to know about the barrel? He was obviously not a Revenuer. Her eyes narrowed. To atone for his father’s treason perhaps he was a government man. There had been an increase in patrols in the area. His Majesty was rumored to be annoyed at the smugglers. The king felt trading with the French was helping to line Napoleon’s coffers.
She choked back her anger. Smuggling actually kept the king’s own people fed. Most of the inhabitants of Deal would starve without the income from this illicit activity.
She stared back at Lord Strathmore, his handsome features a blur. His head lay so close that his hair feathered disturbingly over her cheek.
Lord Strathmore hadn’t really wanted her. His focus had been on the barrel. Why that annoyed her, she could not guess. She usually never welcomed the attention men gave her. And she attracted plenty of attention.
She would have to be careful. “Stop. Get off me.”
He pressed closer. She stiffened in fright. She could feel his erection against her thigh. Perhaps this wasn’t solely about interrogation.
He groaned. “You cannot mean that. If I replace my thigh”—he rubbed his leg familiarly against her mound—“with my hand, I’m sure I’ll find you wet with your own need.” He pushed his hips forward. “I know you can feel my desire for you.”
She definitely felt it. It was hard to miss.
Rheda fought against her own longing, trying to deny she wanted to feel more. At the age of five and twenty, she’d seen and experienced more of life than most young ladies. Yet her station in life meant his current seduction would have consequences. Consequences he would not want to pay any more than she did. She was not naive. If he compromised her, he would be forgiven, she would not. Society’s rules were devised by men, for men. Men like her hedonistic father.
She gave a small snort. The mess her father left upon his death meant she’d had little chance of doing what Society expected. Not if she’d wanted to save Tumsbury Cliff Manor for Daniel.
Lord Strathmore pulled her slightly off the ground and reached behind her. “Let’s get rid of some of these clothes. I want you naked, skin to skin, when I take you.”
Naked.
Naked! Take her ...
She shook her head and began to struggle in earnest. This was a mistake. A dreadful mistake. He couldn’t really want to “take her” in an open field where anyone could stumble across them. Were all men pigs? Slaves to the animal hanging between their thighs?
However, he did seem to have forgotten about the barrel.
Her hands rose between them, to batter against his chest, forcing some space between their bodies.
“No. Don’t. Please ...”
At her word “please” he hesitated. Rheda held her breath, feeling her heart race with trepidation. With a man of Lord Strathmore’s ilk, she may have already gone too far to appeal to his noble self. She could not rely on his honor, because he did not know her true identity.
Now he never could.
His face was disquietingly close to hers. She found herself transfixed by his mouth, a mouth she could still feel and taste.
God help her. She wanted him.
Rufus could see where her gaze rested. The feel of her eyes upon him ... If anything, his desire for her grew. He was so hard, so aroused ...
This woman was all softness and curves. She had an air about her that teased and confused—a combination of innocence and siren. Her beauty caught him in her web, and he could not break free. He had an overwhelming need to stake a claim on the wild gypsy woman lying panting in his arms.
After the amount of riding he’d done today, searching for any clues as to the area Dark Shadow used for his illegal activities, he would have thought sex was the last thing on his mind. His body obviously thought differently.
He had not been looking for a further dalliance. Lucy had been willing and very obliging. But the barrel meant he needed this woman. What better way to ensure her cooperation than seducing her, using pleasure to conquer any reluctance in revealing the source of her barrel.
He could take her, here and now. He saw it in her eyes. She wanted him. Why then did she hesitate?
Rufus’s arms tightened around her. The flowery scent of her filled his nostrils. He inwardly cursed. He wanted her, but this wasn’t about giving rein to his baser instincts. He needed information. Information about the origins of her barrel. With the utmost reluctance he tempered his desire.
The barrel could hold the key to his mission. A traitor was using a Kent smuggling operation as cover. His capture would help the war effort. The spy sending vital war intelligence to Napoleon had to be stopped.
When he’d rounded the bend in the road, the barrel was the first thing that had drawn his attention, after which he’d become enchanted at the sight of the golden-haired goddess prone against the tree. His hunger for her was growing, as was his admiration. She’d faced him with bravado, trapped. She would have been hurting, yet she faced him down like a tigress. But when she lay in a dead faint in his arms, he’d felt every soft sensuous curve.
A powerful, overwhelming desire swept through him again. He immediately pictured her silken tresses falling over his bare skin as she rode naked above him. However, at present, the most powerful aphrodisiac was the chance her seduction could lead him to Dark Shadow.
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