To Seduce a Bride

“Yet you implied you wanted more freedom.”

She smiled uncertainly. “True.” Her dream had always been to escape to a life of freedom and adventure. “I mean to use the funds to travel the world and explore new and exciting places.”

“Alone?”

“Lady Hester Stanhope did it,” Lily pointed out, mentioning the adventurous earl’s daughter and niece of William Pitt the Younger who had sailed to the Middle East and eventually joined a settlement of Arab tribesmen.

“So she did. But she was significantly older than you.”

“I am one and twenty, old enough to take care of myself.”

“So…you won’t marry because men often make their wives unhappy,” Claybourne said slowly, as if testing the theory in his mind.

“Yes. First you make us too infatuated to think clearly, so we give over all control to you, and then you make our lives a misery.” Unconsciously Lily ground her teeth. “I think it abominable that husbands have the legal right to be villainous toward their wives. I am not about to give any man that power over me.”

To her surprise, Claybourne leaned forward and raised a hand to touch her cheek. “Who hurt you, angel?” he asked quietly.

Discomfited, Lily drew back. “No one hurt me. It was my mother who was hurt. And my eldest sister also, for that matter.”

He was silent for a moment. “I understand your father was a champion philanderer.”

Lily looked away, not wanting to recall the painful memories. “He was indeed. He flaunted his mistresses before my mother at every opportunity. It hurt her terribly. And Arabella’s first betrothed betrayed her almost as badly. Belle loved him, but when my parents’ scandal broke, he ended their engagement out of hand.”

Lily was certain Lord Claybourne knew all about the terrible scandals that had befallen her family four years ago. First their mother had taken a lover because she was unable to endure her unhappy marriage any longer, and then was forced to flee to the Continent by her outraged husband. A fortnight later their libertine father gambled away the last of his fortune and was killed in a duel over one of his mistresses. The Loring sisters had been left penniless and homeless, at the mercy of their curmudgeonly step-uncle, the Earl of Danvers, who had taken them in most grudgingly.

“Is that why you didn’t want Marcus marrying your sister?”

“In large part.”

“You seem to harbor a strong prejudice against noblemen.”

“I won’t deny it. Noblemen can make the worst sort of husbands.”

“Then I can take heart from the fact that your aversion is not directed at me personally.”

Her brows drew together. “No, I have nothing against you personally, my lord. I don’t even know you.” Thankfully, she added to herself.

Claybourne remained silent for another dozen heartbeats before shifting his position to study the box’s inhabitants. “I take it this is Boots,” he murmured, reaching down to scratch the mother cat behind one ear. Surprisingly Boots didn’t object but started purring at once, rubbing her head sensuously against his fingers.

Lily found her gaze riveted on his lordship’s hands as he stroked the silky gray fur. He had strong, graceful hands, surprising in such a bold, masculine man.

“I think you are forgetting one important fact,” he said finally.

She didn’t immediately realize that Lord Claybourne was speaking to her. “What fact?”

“It is true that some men can be hurtful, but they can also give women great pleasure.”

Warmth rose to her face. “Perhaps some men can, but that is beside the point.”

Just then the black kitten pounced on his cuff and started chewing his knuckle.

“Hungry little fellow, aren’t you?” he murmured with a smile. “And you as well,” he added as the gray kitten attacked his thumb.

He drew out the tiny creatures, settling them in his lap. Almost at once the black kitten crawled up his chest, digging its claws into the gold brocade of his waistcoat.

“I am sorry, my lord,” Lily said regretfully.

“It is no matter.” When the black one scampered higher, Claybourne gave a soft laugh. The low, husky sound raked across Lily’s nerve endings with undeniable potency.

“Here, let me help…” she hastened to say.

Leaning forward, she reached out to pluck the kitten off his chest, but the curling claws clung to his cravat. Lily tried to extricate the tiny claws from the fine fabric without damaging it and somehow wound up pushing the marquess back in the straw.

He lay there, looking up at her. Leaning over him, Lily froze at the expression on his face. He had gone quite still, but there was a soft fire in his eyes that made her heart beat faster.

“I am sorry,” she repeated, suddenly breathless.

“I am not.”

His fingers closing gently around the tiny black paws, he managed to free his cravat and set the kitten in the straw beside him. Immediately it bounded off toward the box, and the gray went scrambling after its littermate.

Even so, Lily couldn’t look away from Lord Claybourne. When he reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape, her breathing faltered altogether. Then shockingly, he drew her mouth down to meet his in a featherlight contact.

She was unprepared for the rush of sensation that shot through her at the unexpected caress; his lips were warm and firm yet enticingly soft at the same time-and much too tempting.

Stifling a gasp, Lily pressed her palms against his chest and lifted her reeling head. “W-why did you do that?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

“I wanted to see if your lips were as inviting as they look.”

His reply was not what she expected. “And were they?”

“More so.”

Lily stared down at him, unable to move. Her gaze was riveted on his face. It was a strong face, arresting and beautiful in the muted glow of lamplight. He had a beautiful mouth also, even though she hadn’t let herself acknowledge it before. His lips were chiseled and generous, and they curved now in a faint smile as he returned her regard.

“I expect you have no idea what you are missing, sweetheart. Passion between a man and a woman can be quite remarkable.”

Lily cleared her suddenly dry throat, fighting her enchanted stupor. “Even so, I don’t care to have anything to do with passion.”

“What do you know about it? Have you ever even been properly kissed?”

Her brow furrowed cautiously. “What do you mean by ‘properly’?”

His quiet chuckle was soft, husky, as he drew her face down to his again. “If you have to ask, the answer must be no. I think we should rectify the deficiency at once…”

As the warm mist of his breath caressed her mouth, Lily braced herself for the renewed shock, but when his lips began to play over hers with exquisite pressure, she felt her resistance melting.

The effect of his kiss was spellbinding. The heady sensation he roused made her light-headed and giddy, much like the effect of the champagne.

When he left off this time, he reached up and stroked her cheek with a finger. “Did you find that pleasurable, sweeting?”

She couldn’t utter a denial for it would be a lie. His kiss had left her breathless and dazed, and she felt a strange quivering between her thighs, a restless ache low and deep in her feminine center. “Y-yes.”

“You sound unsure.”

“It was…quite pleasant.”

His mouth curved wryly. “Merely pleasant? I think I should be insulted.”

“You know you needn’t be. You are said to be a devil with the ladies, and you have countless conquests-” She