The Seduction Read Online Free Page A

THE
MOTTLED pattern of leaves overhead as he concentrated on each breath. In.
Out. Focus. Once again. Had he finally gone too far? His heart rattled
erratically in his chest. Α cold sweat had broken out on his face. It had
never been this bad before. His hand throbbed like the very devil, and the
swelling had traveled up his arm.
    What an insane risk to take! To die of a bee
sting. In which case, the notorious Lord Gracechurch would go to his grave without
having tasted the sweetness of Mistress Juliet Seton.
    For without regard to the wager, Alden wanted her.
Just for the sake of her eyes, damn it all! Why did she wear that
ridiculous smock? From her face and hands, he could imagine the body that lay
under it. She would be soft and female, with generous high breasts and a
beneficent, slipping curve to her waist. Her skin was a pale cream, like a
Caerphilly cheese, but with that hair and those eyebrows she would have dark
nipples, as sweet as raspberries. If only he had a whole summer to woo her and
tempt her, and win her little by little in a game as delightful as the final
surrender!
    Yet he had undertaken to bed her by Friday.
    Why the devil had he lost all that blunt to Denby
and Lord Edward? But if he had not, he would never have met her. Obscure little
Manston Mingate with its impoverished, succulent widow was not on the usual way
to Gracechurch Abbey. It wasn't on the way to anywhere.
    Alden closed his eyes. His head was cushioned on
something soft. Alas, that it wasn't her lap! Hot compresses were laid over his
throbbing arm. Her clothes rustled. There was a clean, flowery scent - of roses
and gillyflowers at dusk. Somewhere a cat purred. At last he felt his breathing
become deeper, almost back to normal.
    So perhaps he would live after all.
    Then he would win her for one night of ecstasy,
which would save him from ruin.
    He glanced up.
    The sun had dropped in the west. Long shadows
raced over the flowers, gilding the red brick to flame, though the air still
pressed, heavy and hot.
    Her three cats sat beside his head, contemplating
him, vibrating with feline intensity.
    Mistress Seton was perched on a stool she must
have fetched from the house, calmly shelling peas. The hem of her skirt lifted
a little at the front. Cheap stockings wrink1ed around her ankles. Delectable
ankles, curving up into rounded calves and descending to soft insteps that
would fit neatly into the palms of his hands. Desire stirred, then asserted
itself with considerable intensity.
    Yes, he would live!
    He let his gaze slide up over her blue smock to
the neck of her dress. If she wore a locket, it was hidden by her clothes. His
attention lingered on her cheek and on each flutter of long lashes as they
swept down over her eyes. What made her so provocative? Was it that very air of
watchfulness, the guarded, severe turn at the corner of her luscious mouth? The
suspicion and resentment clear in her eyes?
    So she disliked, even feared, strangers. The
thought thrust its way into consciousness: she fears men? No, not fear,
exactly, but a definite rejection - a fierce commitment to privacy.
    It wasn't going to be easy.
    She looked down at him. Alden dropped his gaze so
that she wouldn't see the desire in his. Surely he had successfully proved
himself helpless, no threat at all?
    "You have recovered, sir?" She glanced
away. "You must be anxious to leave. May Ι fetch help? Or can you manage?"
    He smiled up at her. His hand still throbbed, but
his heart seemed to be beating its usual strong rhythm. "You have been
very kind, ma'am. Ι would like to thank you by name, at least."
    "Mistress Juliet Seton, sir. Now you have
the advantage of me." She looked directly at him and stood, her cornflower
eyes suspicious.
    Alden managed to get to his feet without
disgracing himself, but prudence acquired by a man living by his wits told him
now not to tell her his title, nor offer her too elaborate a bow. "Alden
Granville, your most humble and obedient servant,