A Dangerous Temptation Read online

  “What’s your name?”

  Too late to run, as his voice came out from behind me. A warm caress of air across the back of my neck. I shivered, swallowing hard. My mouth felt suddenly dry. He could touch me if he dared, we were that close. I would not give my name to this man. He could ruin me. Blimey, what was I doing standing there like an utter fool?

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Fine then, I shall call you… Henrietta.”

  “No!”

  He laughed, a low and gravelly laugh, and I realized he was teasing me. An embarrassed flush heated my face, not that he could see the color. I’d never cared before what someone thought of me, so why did I not want him to think of me as a Henrietta?

  “Why not?” he asked the very question I wondered.

  “I knew a Henrietta who was rather dastardly, is all,” I lied. I couldn’t very well tell him the truth, that Henrietta was the name of an elderly aunt, a spinster, and for some reason I didn’t want him to think of me as a spinster.

  “Dastardly? Was she a pirate?”

  I felt my lips twitch. Who was this man? Where had he come from? “Perhaps. I believe I did spot a wooden leg.”

  “Right then…Rose. I’ll call you Rose.”

  Lord, his voice was like warm milk sliding slowly down my body. I started to reject the name Rose as silly and childish, when I remembered the flower tucked behind my ear. One of the first blooms of spring. I wasn’t the only one who had been paying attention. As I’d noticed him, he’d noticed me, at least well enough to note the flower. Which meant…he had seen my features. I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to groan. My mother and father would murder me. They’d force me into a nunnery and we weren’t even Catholic.

  “You can turn now, Rose.”

  My hands curled. Did I want to?

  Blimey, what did it matter, he’d already seen me. Taking in a deep, trembling breath I turned slowly, warily. He was dressed in a fine but simple linen shirt that clung to his damp skin, and buff trousers that hugged muscled thighs. His black hair was disheveled and damp, with the slightest bit of curl at the ends, only adding to his appeal.

  But it was his gaze, that unrelenting gaze, which pierced and pinned me to the spot. I couldn’t have moved even if I had wanted to. It took everything in my power not to look away. Had he laughed earlier? I swore he had, but I couldn’t imagine this man smiling, laughing or being merry at all. I could only imagine him as a vengeful Greek God doling out punishments to the weak, or perhaps a warrior spawned to fight and kill.

  He was tall, taller than I’d expected, and I had to tilt my head to look at his perfect face. And as I studied him, he studied me. Slowly, his gaze traveled over my features, then down my neck. I swore he paused for a moment at my bodice, before dropping lower…and lower. He could seduce a woman with a mere glance. It felt as if he actually touched me, trailed his fingers over my body.

  I should have slapped him for his insolence. Arrogant, to say the least, he reeked of self-assuredness. Finally, his gaze returned to mine, and I realized he wasn’t a dandy after all. He might smile, might look like an angel, but in that gaze was the hardness of a man who was used to being in control, the sort of man who could turn on you at any moment. A wild animal. And we were alone. Utterly alone.

  “Do you always spy on men bathing?”

  “Do you always bathe in public places?” I blurted out as haughty as I could manage. Really, this was our land. Why should I be afraid? How dare he use our creek to bathe without permission. How dare he look at me like I was nothing more than a piece of property to own.

  But my boldness was short-lived. I realized, as I stood there and he towered over me, all broad shoulders and biceps straining his shirt sleeves, that he could bloody well do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. How could I stop him?

  He grinned and my heart stuttered. I’d thought him stunning, but when he smiled it was as if the very sun had burst from the clouds. “I bathe in public places whenever possible.”

  He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. For some reason, it annoyed me. This man who probably seduced women, then left them ruined and destroyed. Oh yes, I knew his kind. So handsome that whatever he wanted was merely handed to him on a silver platter. I should have hated him.

  Yet, I couldn’t seem to stop my body from reacting to his nearness, to his beauty. I had to resist the urge to press my hand to my chest like a love-sick ninny. His linen shirt was fine, and clung to his broad, wet shoulders. The buff trousers he wore were just as well made. He had money, at least. A viscount or baron perhaps? A wealthy farmer? I realized I was staring at him as if he was an oddity of nature and jerked my gaze away.

  “Are you impressed with what you see?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

  “Less and less,” I muttered, realizing he fully expected me to be impressed. Arrogant bastard.

  But my comment only made his smile broaden.

  “Shall I drop to my knees, my lord? Wax poetically about your beauty?”

  His gaze grew hard. “If you’re on your knees I’d prefer you were doing things other than spouting poetry.”

  Frowning, I attempted to understand his comment. It was obvious he was jesting about something I didn’t fully comprehend. I prayed he wasn’t titled for I could imagine the stories about me he’d take back to London. I’d already ruined my family’s reputation and didn’t need to add flames to the fire.

  I was pretty enough in looks, although certainly nothing comparable to Penny. Perhaps I would have been considered prettier if I hadn’t always been standing next to my dear sister. And perhaps then someone would have married me despite what had happened. I was kind, thoughtful. I could draw and paint better than anyone. I hated sewing, but did it good enough. I could even sing rather well and play the piano.

  But I was too curious. Much too curious, and it had led to my destruction. Since the years had passed I’d settled quite nicely into the quiet, spinsterhood of an unmarried woman. Now here he was, looking much too mysterious, much too handsome, and making me long for something more.

  “This really isn’t proper.”

  “Please.” He folded his arms over his chest in a way that told me he hadn’t a care what others thought. “You’ve already seen me naked. It’s a bit late for proper, isn’t it?”

  Before I could answer, he turned away from me and started toward the bank.

  I was so startled by his sudden departure that I merely stood there wondering if I’d been dismissed. Dare I walk away? Race back home and pretend as if I’d never met him? “Well then,” I started. He lowered to the bank, grabbed his jacket and spread it out next to him. “I should—”

  “Sit.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I blurted out.

  He didn’t bother acknowledging my outrage, but pulled a bag close and opened it. Cheese, bread, a flask of some sort, he settled them all on the burlap sack. “Are you hungry?”

  My stomach grumbled in response. Horrified, I pressed my hands to my belly and hoped he hadn’t heard, all while cursing my body’s betrayal. I couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Would it? Blast it all, I’d already seen him naked. Really, I’d galloped past inappropriate minutes ago. But sitting with a stranger and taking food went beyond the pale. Besides, there was something about him that made me nervous.

  Flushing, I turned. “I should go.”

  “Don’t.”

  I hesitated. It wasn’t a plea, it was a demand. A gentleman farmer who demanded? Who strolled through our woods like he owned them? Bathed in our creek as if he was God himself? He might feign being the gentleman but there was a strength underneath his many layers that told me there was something more to him. Something that hinted at danger, at power. Or perhaps I merely hungered for excitement and was imagining more than he portrayed.

  “I’m new to the area and know so little,” he said, sounding quite innocent. “I as
sume you were born here? There is an ease about you that says as much.”

  Curious, I turned to face him. “Yes.”

  He smiled at me again, that heart-pounding smile that left me breathless. “Come. Keep me company, tis the least you can do since you practically ruined me.”

  I frowned.

  He shrugged, and looked toward the creek. The breeze shifted through his dark hair, ruffling the strands, and making him appear vulnerable, human. “Really, I should demand marriage at the least.”

  I gasped.

  He slid me a glance. “I merely jest. Now sit.”

  I hesitated once more, unsure if I should laugh or run. It was inappropriate. Completely and utterly. Truth was, I couldn’t seem to leave. I liked the easy banter we’d had so far, the way he teased. In a way, it felt as if we’d known each other for years, instead of minutes. Just as it had when I was thirteen and had met Cecilia at church. Why not sit with him? I slowly moved toward the bank, my heart hammering so loudly I no longer heard the gurgle of the creek. Gingerly, I settled upon his jacket, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

  He tore off a hunk of bread and handed it to me.

  It was so very improper, sharing a meal. Something I’d done as a child when Cecilia and I would head into the woods, searching for fairies. I took the bread and nibbled. It was not rough and dry, but sweet and soft, of good quality. I glanced at his hands as I chewed. They were long, sinewy, strong, the fingernails blunt but clean. An image of those hands trailing over my face as he lowered his mouth to mine left me feeling achy and breathless.

  “Have you come to live here then?” I asked, unable to help myself, even though I knew it was impolite to ask questions of a man I didn’t know.

  I watched as he swallowed, his throat tanned and lean. “I’m staying in the house across the field. Thinking about purchasing the property.”

  A gentleman farmer then? My anxiety eased slightly. Why, he would be our neighbor. The thought of seeing this man daily did not make me nervous as it should have. If anything, I felt strangely excited. If he bought the property, I’d never have to worry about coming across Welch, or more importantly, his son, again. “Truly?”

  He grinned as he stared out at the water. “Truly.”

  A tingle of awareness ran down my spine. He would be nearby…forever. Suddenly, remaining here as the spinster sister didn’t seem so bad. I took another bite, flushing over my impure thoughts. Surely he wasn’t married, for no married man would bathe naked, or share his meal with another woman. I had to resist the urge to grin. Let Penny have her titled gents from London. I’d make do with what was here, thank you very much.

  He handed me the flask. I drank the ale without thinking. But it was as I swallowed that I realized his own lips had been where mine now rested. Too intimate. I gasped, choking. He took the flask, watching me with some amusement as I attempted to cough delicately into my sleeve.

  “Tell me…do you like it here?” he asked. “Are the people a friendly sort?”

  “Oh yes.” I nodded, clearing my throat. No more Welch and his son. No more reminder of what had happened in London. “Very friendly. There’s no better place.”

  He smiled again, as if everything I did and said, amused him. Perhaps I should have been offended but I wasn’t. I enjoyed his smile too much to care. Would it be audacious for me to ask him to sit for a painting? Perhaps not audacious, but certainly not proper. Mother would never approve. Then again, Mother was not here.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  I liked the deep, seductive quality of his voice. Liked his musky scent that swept around me upon the breeze, taunting and tempting. He handed me a piece of cheese, our fingers brushing. Lightning jumped, branching from his hand to mine. I pulled back, startled. If he felt it, he didn’t react. Lord, was this what I’d read about in my novels? Was this the animalistic attraction that mothers warned their daughters about?

  “You never told me your name,” I said, feeling as if I must say something, least he realized the affect he was having upon me.

  He took a bite of cheese. “James.”

  James. Yes, I liked his name. Regal, yet warm. I liked how he looked at me, long and lazy, as if I was a curiosity in a museum. I took in a deep breath and tore my attention from him, knowing I should tread carefully. Welch’s son would be gone, but I best remember this man was a temptation I did not need. Had I not learned my lesson in London?

  “And…you still aren’t going to divulge your name, are you?”

  I flushed, finishing my cheese so I wouldn’t have to answer. Tangy, creamy and ripened to perfection, the cheese was something only a man with money could purchase. Who was he and where had he come from?

  He laughed again, deep and warm, yet slightly raspy as if he didn’t do it often. “I see. Well, certainly you must tell me something. I did share my given name with you.”

  I bit back my grin. “Fine. I like to draw and paint.”

  He nodded. “The proper young miss then.”

  I shrugged, feeling embarrassed. He’d dismissed my love so easily. I didn’t merely draw and paint like all other young women painting landscapes in watercolors. I lived it. Breathed it. My colors were bold and vibrant and full of life. Not watered down versions of perfection. But how could he possibly understand? Still, his response annoyed me.

  I noticed the black charcoal smudged against my fingertips, a common occurrence in my life, and began to rub them discreetly upon my skirts. “Is there something you love, James?”

  He looked thoughtful and somewhat confused. He had no idea what I spoke of. I shifted so that I was on my knees, and peered into his eyes, searching for the truth. We were so close that I could see the scruff upon his jaw, see the silver flecks in his black eyes. It wasn’t fair for one man to possess such perfection. How I wanted to hate him for it.

  I should have leaned back, kept a safe distance between the two of us, but for some insane reason I needed him to understand. “Truly love. Fishing? Woodwork? Farming? When you’re doing it you feel lost, not of this world?”

  He looked at me, his gaze intense, and for a moment I could have sworn he understood. “No.”

  “Oh.” Deflated, I settled back, feeling sad for him and slightly disappointed. “Well, that’s how I feel when I paint.

  But he didn’t understand. I flushed, feeling foolish.

  “No,” I said. “It’s not just painting watercolors like all other women. It’s…my love.”

  Finished with my speech, I took in a deep, trembling breath.

  “How passionate you are.”

  Yes, he found me amusing, and this time it did hurt. He was a mere man. For the briefest moment I thought I had stumbled across someone who might understand. Someone sent to this very spot, just for me. I should have known better.

  “I thank you for the meal.” I stood, brushing my hands against my skirts. The material was covered with dirt stains, charcoal and even a splatter of paint or two. I was a destitute ruffian compared to this angel of a man.

  “Why must you always dress like a servant?” Mother had asked me so many times, I barely paid attention any longer.

  “Because, Mother, walking and painting are done better when one doesn’t have to worry about ruining one’s gown.”

  For a moment I wished I’d worn something prettier, but pushed the nonsensical thought aside. I’d only just met James, it didn’t matter what I wore. “But I truly should go.”

  He merely watched me with those fathomless eyes.

  Because I’d been bred to be polite, I added, “It was lovely meeting you.”

  He grinned.

  Flustered, I turned to leave.

  “Rose?” he called out.

  I paused, my back to him. I should have walked away. Why didn’t I?

  “Will you meet me here tomorrow evening?” he asked. “I’d like to ask you more about the area, since you are so knowledgeable.”

  Was he truly asking me to return? Surely there were any number of me
n he could talk to. I wasn’t stupid. He wanted me here because he’d felt the attraction too.

  “I can’t.” I stared wide-eyed at the trees before me, my heart hammering madly in my chest, urging me to accept. I wanted so badly to return. Why? The man made me nervous…made me smile, made me feel alive. “No.”

  “You will.”

  I flushed, not daring to face him. The impertinence. I should have been angry, yet all I could think about was how thrilled I was that he wanted to see me again. It had been a long time since a man had showed me any romantic attention. “And how do you know that?”

  “Because,” he said. “You’re curious.”

  I smiled, although with my back to him, he couldn’t see the grin. Perhaps he did know me after all. Perhaps there was a connection. Perhaps we were as alike as I’d imagined. And perhaps I was a fool.

  “I promise to be fully dressed.”

  I should have said no. Instead, I found myself saying, “Very well.”

  I didn’t wait for his response but hiked up my skirts and raced toward the trail.

  Yes, I fell in love with James the moment I saw him. Or maybe it was lust, for it very well could have been. Either way I was smitten, taken under, controlled by his smile, his presence, his touch.

  But I had no idea as I ran home, my chest tight with an emotion I dare not dwell upon, that the man would break my heart and change my life forever.

  Chapter 2

  James

  Was I evil? A monster? Or merely a man without a soul?

  Perhaps all three.

  I wasn’t born this way.

  No, I remembered caring a long, long time ago. Worried about my brothers. Worried about Evangeline. Even worried about that damn dog I used to sleep with on cold winter nights until Father said men did not sleep with mutts and had taken the dog away. Future lords could rely upon no one but themselves.

  Or maybe that caring child was merely a dream.

  Perhaps I’d always been a soulless demon, never having to worry about others, but only myself… as my mother had proclaimed so many times I didn’t bother to count any longer. But isn’t that how I had been raised? A leader. To be a leader you had to be ruthless for the greater good. Whatever that greater good may be.