How to Seduce a Bride

through her body. His lips touched hers for only a moment, but as they did, she felt a thrilling current of sensation.

He drew back, his eyes dark with some emotion that his expression didn’t show.

“I might not be able to give you an heir, even… if I wanted to,” she stammered. “I didn’t before. Tanner confessed it might be his fault, but how do you know it wasn’t mine?”

“I don’t,” he said softly. “But I haven’t fathered any babes, either. Of course, I’ve been careful, but one wonders if it was my prudence or my lack of ability. At any event, I sometimes wonder. So, we start even. If we can’t produce a child, we’ll at least have a flock of nieces and nephews. And we can take in as many fosterlings as you wish.”

“But Geoff…” she began to say.

He shrugged. “He knows how I feel, and though he’d rather you accept him, he’s given me his permission. Now, all I need is yours.”

“But why?” she demanded.

“Because he cares for you.”

“I mean,” she said with reluctant amusement at his deliberate misunderstanding, “why are you asking me?”

“Because,” he said, smiling with infinite tenderness, “I like you, as well as want you. And you like me. In spite of how you think you feel, and what you say, your breath, your eyes, your skin tell me so. And you’re lovely,” he went on softly. “You’re clever and strong, too. You’re like no other woman I’ve met. And you need me, Daisy. You’ve no idea of how much I need that. I didn’t, certainly. There are other reasons even I don’t know yet, but my pulse, and my skin, and my heart do, and they never lie.”

He bowed his head and kissed her again, gently. She thought she’d stop him, but she didn’t try. Instead, she leaned toward him, without thought of anything but recapturing the sensations he brought to her. His mouth was warm and soft; he touched the margin of her lips with his tongue and without realizing it, she opened her lips and breathed in the thrilling taste of him. It made her want more. He put one large hand on her waist and drew her closer. He deepened the kiss, one large hand on her back, the other stroking her cheek, her neck, her breast… And then to her surprise and guilty dismay, he stopped.

“Think about it,” he said, touching a finger to her chin. “Geoff’s offer still stands. Mine is in your pocket as well. Think long, and deep, Daisy, and let me know tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Because you do have enemies, and we have to end this nonsense that threatens you. And also because with all my oddities, I won’t be anyone’s second choice, or last resort. Now,” he said with perfect calm, only belied by the blue fire in his eyes, “shall we get back to Helena? The poor lady will begin to worry, and we can’t have that.”

Daisy stood and looked at him, her hand to her lips, still tingling from his kiss. “You’re serious?”

“Oh, very,” he said. “The point now is, are you?”

Chapter Sixteen

He was quite mad, barking mad; that was all there was to it.

Leland sat back in the deep chair beside his glowing hearth and pondered. The household was asleep. He had too much to think about to close his eyes. He stared into the heart of the fire without seeing it. What to do next? Offer himself up to the authorities and be clapped in Bedlam? Or actually go on with it? No saying if she’d accept him. But if she did?

What had he been thinking of?

Her eyes, her breasts, her lips, her laughter, and her unquenchable spirit, that was what. But why?

Women had been thrown at his head since he’d been a youth, newly come into the title. Which was why they had been, of course. He never deceived himself. He’d been gangly and awkward with his new growth, his voice still cracked, he’d tripped over things and stammered when he spoke to a female. He’d been an unlicked cub with no mama bear to show him how to go on, but oh! how the matrons had wanted him to marry their daughters. Their daughters, he’d realized, had more sense.

In the months before his father had died so suddenly, being a mere heir hadn’t been enough to ensure his popularity with the ladies. He’d been to enough social occasions to see how the lovely young things offered that Season reacted to him. They’d huddled together when they saw him approach, and he’d heard their giggles when they’d looked at him.

That was why he’d adopted his pose of a fop, a cynic, a care-for-nothing but fashion and fripperies. He’d cultivated an acid wit and slashing tongue. After all, it was impossible to hurt the feelings of someone who didn’t appear to have any, and who, if push came to shove, could insult you worse than you had him.

Yet when he’d inherited the title, the eligible females nevertheless threw themselves at him. The good part of it was that because he was so amusing, ineligible females did the same. They helped him discover the sensual side of himself; he found he purely loved sex and also loved giving pleasure. In that, at least, for a wonder, he was never awkward or clumsy. Maybe because it came so naturally to him. He genuinely liked women, and was delighted that he could make them like him for more than his title and funds.

But the mask he wore in public was impossible to remove in private, because he came to realize that his paramours didn’t want him to. It became part of him, which was not to say it was necessarily a bad part. He enjoyed amusing people. He’d hoped someday to meet someone who could laugh with him, as well as at him, if she got angry enough. But he’d thought she’d be wellborn, virginal and docile. Someone lovely, but not outrageously so; someone clever, but not aggressively so. Someone who’d faint with joy at the thought of his asking for her hand, and obediently give up her body with it, on demand.

Instead, he’d hung his heart on the whims of a female with an angelic face and a devil of a body, a criminal past; a widow who feared men and who wasn’t sure if she wanted so much as his hand, even in marriage. But she also possessed a spirit as fiery as her hair, and a code of honor that could shame a parson.

Was he mad?

He hardly knew her-but no. He smiled to himself. He knew her better than most of the women matchmakers had thrown at his head all these past years. He knew her better than any of the young things he’d danced with at Almack’s and partnered at too many social events. He knew her far better than most of the women he’d bedded, even those he’d stayed with as long as a month. He didn’t know if he’d know a female better if he stayed with her longer; he never had.

Daisy, he thought, he could stay with forever. He liked her conversation; he admired her courage. He could amuse her, but she could make him laugh, too. And most important, he felt at home with her. He didn’t know why, but he did.

He’d started seeing her because he’d worried about her using her wiles on Geoff. Which was why, he suspected, he’d forgotten to guard his own heart. Impossible to be on guard against a woman who spoke her mind, didn’t try to impress him, though she did, and seemed always to tell the truth. He pitied her past and found himself wanting to ensure her future, with him. He admitted it might very well be that her past was what drew him to her, because she hadn’t been cosseted and pampered, and didn’t expect even the smallest courtesies from him.

But it certainly wasn’t pity motivating him now. He recognized a kindred spirit, and he admitted his lust. His need for her was, however, more than that. He simply liked being with her, and looked forward to it every day.

Still, he didn’t know her well enough to marry. He wondered if he ever would. That charmed him.

His mother would have a fit. That delighted him.

If Daisy became his wife, he knew he’d have a confidante, an honest friend, and a partner. Convincing her to be his partner in bed, however, would take time and effort. He could hardly wait.

But would she accept him?

He’d gambled. If he lost, Leland thought, laying his head back, closing his eyes, he wondered if it was likely he’d lose more than he now knew.

A viscount or an earl?