An Improper Seduction Read online

  He was beginning to think he was being too selective, but he could not convince himself just any woman would do, considering he would be burdened with her for the rest of his days.

  This day he was on his way to a neighbor who shared a common border. He knew, from long ago visits, the earl had a good reputation in the area and a spinster daughter he had yet to marry off.

  Geoffrey cringed at the thought of what the old maid would be like but proceeded through the woods to keep his appointment with the earl. Since the weather was fine, he had chosen to walk rather than ride the relatively short distance.

  Perusing the flora and fauna of the forest, he could not help but notice a field of wildflowers, the first flush of spring, at the edge of the wood. To his great surprise and delight, he could plainly see the form of a young woman as she made her way through the profusion of blooms, bending over here and there as she selected and picked a flower.

  A rose among the wildflowers? The ladies of this shire were already welcoming him home by displaying their wares. The common women flirted and enticed. The noble-born tittered and blushed. The whole affair made his stomach clench. After his recent disappointments in town, he had ignored any and all innuendos and flirtations.

  Yet, he was sure he had not seen a posterior of such fine dimensions in an amazingly long time. As she was without a chaperone, Geoffrey expected she was a local milkmaid or tavern wench with a few minutes to herself. He had enjoyed the eager offers of a number of such country lassies in his past. Maybe this one would oblige him too.

  Not being in a particular hurry and hating to miss a view with such promise for future enjoyment, he leaned himself against the closest oak. With avid interest, he watched his quarry move blithely through the meadow selecting the choicest of flowers.

  After due consideration, the marquess convinced himself he must make the most of his opportunity before it was too late. If he waited too long, she would finish her preoccupation and be lost to him.

  Fleet, yet quiet of foot due to a number of years in the King’s service, he prowled noiselessly around behind the lass, then silently up behind her. As he neared, his manhood became fully aroused and demanding. In seconds he was upon her, pushing his hips against her derrière as he bent over and firmly grabbed full, lush breasts in the cups of his large, strong hands.

  “I have you now, lass. You shall be my afternoon delight this day,” he exclaimed triumphantly.

  Lady Angeline Hartley was most astonished by this brazen act of male ego. She tried to stand up but found, to her great dismay, she was held fast by the hands upon her heating flesh. She was appalled to realize her nipples had tightened, her breasts had swollen, and there was a tingling sensation in most every part of her anatomy.

  Every time she moved she felt the hard sex of the man against her derrière through her flimsy muslin skirt, and then a mysterious jolt of desire would sweep through her.

  Her face flushed. Her body heated. A strange tightness came to her stomach while a warm wetness welled between her thighs. She had never felt such a confusion of feelings before and knew her sheltered life had protected her from such impure experiences. But the rush she was feeling made her almost giddy.

  Her anger flew to her defense.

  “Unhand me, you pernicious profligate. I am no common milkmaid you can subdue for your own pleasure. I am a lady from a nearby estate. I am a virgin, and you have no right to handle me with such lack of esteem! Unhand me this instant.” Livid with anger but tingling all over from the feel of his highly aroused sex, Angeline dropped her bouquet, then dug her nails into her rapacious assailant’s hands.

  “I see I’ve caught a wildcat. Lucky for me I know how to tame such as you,” asserted her assailant.

  “Tame me? Let me go and you shall never get near me again. Let me go, I say!” Angeline spewed the words viciously at the man still holding her in a vise-grip.

  “A virgin, are you? I seriously doubt that. Rare is a virgin more than eighteen years. I shall find out for myself.”

  Shifting one hand round her waist, still holding her tightly against his groin, he removed the other hand from her breast and slid it up under her skirts, over her thighs, between her legs. “Soft, warm and wet you are for me, my lady,” his last address delivered with sarcasm.

  “I demand you let go of me,” she responded as her body shivered from the gentle touch of his hand upon her delicate, virgin flesh.

  “Stop that!” she cried as she felt his fingers tease the fur of her nether regions. In desperation, she lifted her right foot and slammed the heel of her half-boot on his instep.

  “By God, you’re a tigress,” he groaned in pain. “As you wish, madam. I will let you go. But you should not go out unattended, much less wave this delicious backside in a stranger’s face, if you wish not to be assailed by any man who passes.”

  Still held tight within his grasp, Angeline struggled to release herself. “I am on my own lands, sir. I am known by all in the vicinity, except, I expect, you. I should be as safe here as I would be in my bed,” she returned with ire.

  “You would not be safe in your bed if I were near you, my lady. You would never be safe within ten feet of me. But I will let you go and we will both be on our way. Surely our paths must cross again.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about the matter,” vowed Angeline as she felt him release her. She immediately stood up, but was stopped by a dizziness to her head from the sudden change in altitude. Taking a deep breath while straightening her skirts over her hips, she composed herself as quickly as she could, then turned to confront the object of her ire.

  He was gone!

  “Blast you, sir,” she yelled toward the wood. “You have not even the mettle to face my wrath directly.”

  Walking quickly through the woods, Geoffrey took deep breaths to calm his desires and disarm his still throbbing sex. Now that was a woman he would remember for weeks to come, he thought. And, when he figured out exactly who she was, he would have her in his bed to taste the rest of her treasures.

  Maybe a mistress was all he needed to relieve his troubled thoughts. Surely a wife of tamed manner would not care if he went to another for true satisfaction. After all, a lady would be appalled at what he would expect from her in bed without another outlet for his lust.

  Angeline spent another half hour talking to herself while trying to regain the last of her composure and sanity.

  Who was that dissipated man that he should feel so free with her? When she learned his name, she would have her father drum him out of the shire. She finished gathering her bouquet, placed the remainder of the flowers in her basket, then headed toward the manse.

  With great difficulty, she ignored the heat still humming through her body and the tingle of his touch on her breasts and inner thighs.

  “Lord Colburn, how good of you to make time to visit.” Angus Hartley, Earl of Hartfield, extended his hand in greeting. “You certainly must be busy as you take up the reins of your new lands. Have you found them in disrepair?”

  “Lord Hartfield, I am grateful you would receive me.” Geoffrey took the seat in front of the hearth offered him. He settled into the navy blue armchair and momentarily relished its down-filled cushion. “I am afraid there is much to see to after my cousin’s death. His estates were not prospering as they should have been. I expect it will take me a year or two to sort out the disaster, but I have the time and inclination, so I doubt there shall be any challenge I cannot overcome.”

  “Please, my lord, we shall be neighbors. Call me by my Christian name. Angus will suit well when we are not in the presence of others.”

  “Then you must call me Geoffrey.” The earl held up a crystal decanter at a side table and nodded at it. With a smile, Geoffrey nodded back, then welcomed the crystal glass filled with amber liquid into his hand. “You look to have
a fine estate here, Angus. Has it been in your family long?”

  “Many generations have seen it passed from one son to the next. Nearly three hundred years it has held the Hartley name.” A shadow passed across the earl’s face. “But there shall soon be an end to it as my wife has been dead for more than ten years and I have only a daughter to whom it can pass,” sighed Angus, then he took a deep drink of his sherry. “Bless my father for removing the entail. If not for that, it would be lost in this generation instead of the next.”

  “Has she married, this daughter of yours, Angus?” Geoffrey studied the flames, wondering if his search here was already ended. “Will she at least give you a grandson who will carry on the line if not the name?”

  “Alas, I am much afraid I have sired a spinster, sir.” Angus shook his head in disgust. “She spent two Seasons in London but refused to marry. She said the men her age had the sense of goats, yet she would not entertain the older gentlemen as she claimed they were all rakes of the first water. She refuses to have a man who would not be true to her. Of course, she can stand to be choosy since she is an heiress having no need to be financially provided for. But I did hope to see her safely wed before I left this earthly plane.”

  Angus shared more of his frustrating tale. “Your predecessor, Ronald, pursued her for naught. He courted her most singularly. They seemed to have shared a friendship but no more. Angeline refused to accept him as husband.” Angus shook his head as he smiled at Geoffrey. “But, enough of my woes. Have you brought a wife with you, my lord? Will we meet her soon?”

  “I have no wife, Angus. I have traveled a great deal in my five and thirty years, leaving no time for marriage or family. Nor had I a desire for any. Now that I must settle down, I need to consider taking to wife. But it shall be no easy challenge. I have spent enough Seasons in London to know I care not a whit for the flighty, featherbrained females who are introduced each year as debutantes. Nor do I wish a cross, crotchety, dried-up old maid. I have my work cut out for me if I am to gain an heir.” Geoffrey took a sip of his wine as he enjoyed the company of his host.

  “Well, at least you have that much in common with my daughter. Maybe you should have a set to. She’s not unattractive but she has a strong, stubborn will about her. She will not come easily to marriage nor to the demands of a husband. She should be home soon. She has been out picking wildflowers, a favorite pastime of hers this time of year.”

  “Wildflowers . . .” the marquess remarked as a warm smile spanned his face and heat rose once again in his groin. “She has an interest in nature?”

  “The girl—well, she really is a woman at two past a score and ten—loves flowers. She spends a great deal of her time in the gardens throughout the spring, summer, and autumn months. Then she pines for the return of the blooms all winter long. You would think she was a flower fairy,” commented the earl with warm affection in his voice.

  “Yes, you certainly would,” agreed Geoffrey, as his mind visualized the attractive derrière that had enticed him that very day. His shaft hardened with just the thought of her firm backside against his cock. Could she possibly be as fair of face?

  As if in answer to his thoughts, a ruckus was heard in the hall, then the library doors slid open. Angus rose to his feet and turned to greet his daughter.

  “Papa, it is such a lovely day. I wish you had come with me for my walk,” Angeline declared. Her mind was still quite distracted from the infraction she had experienced. If only her father had joined her on her excursion as she had requested, no such occurrence would be in her past.

  “I am sorry, my child, but I was expecting a guest. Please, let me introduce him to you. Lord Colburn, this is my daughter, Lady Angeline Hartley.”

  Geoffrey rose as he turned to meet the object of his physical desire. His gaze slid over her red-gold hair pulled back from her face to accentuate large, seafoam green eyes that looked upon him with curiosity. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from her flower-gathering exertions or, just possibly, the embarrassment of his earlier attentions. Her nose was small and turned up slightly at its tip. Soft, full lips were held together tightly as if she refrained from saying what was truly on her mind. Ignoring her look of irritation, he let his gaze drop over the full breasts he had recently held in his hands, past the slim waist, and the voluptuous hips. She was a beautiful and tidy package, surely unwed purely out of her own contrary attitude.

  “Very pleased, I am sure, Lady Angeline.” He smiled at her with a knowing, provocative look.

  Geoffrey reached for her hand and took it to his lips. His gaze fixed on hers, he saw her recognition of the deep scratches on the back of his hand. Scratches she had put there only a short time before.

  Lady Angeline blanched, then fire flared in her eyes. She tugged gently to pull her hand away. At first, he did not relinquish it. He wondered if she would make a scene right there.

  Finally, he released her hand.

  Angeline swallowed hard, choosing not to give the game away. Surely this was not the time to let her father in on the tale. She cast her gaze disdainfully over her molester, taking in the broad shoulders that narrowed to his waist and hips. She noticed his dark, nearly black, hair that held a hint of red whenever the light hit it in just the right way. He had high cheekbones and an incredibly strong chin. Then her scrutiny met dark green, deep-set eyes under thick brows framed by long lashes. An unfathomable flicker in his gaze teased her, as if he knew something she did not.

  Ignoring the tightness that returned to her stomach, she composed herself once again and smiled a little too brightly. “My lord,” she said, not wanting to make the meeting the slightest bit pleasant for their guest.

  Angus continued, “Geoffrey Chisholm has taken up the estates of Colburn Park since his cousin’s death, my dear. Since the estates are entailed, it is his good fortune and ours he should take up the mantle.”

  “Indeed,” said Angeline coolly. “How very nice for you, Lord Colburn. I do hope you will get the estates and all of its properties under control in the very near future. Surely the country bores you and you would rather the entertainments of London.”

  She gave the marquess a scornful, knowing look. She would never forget his deep, resonant voice. She knew it was he who had pounced upon her. She swore it would echo through her forever. And the feel of him. She blushed every time she thought of those unbidden moments of intimacy.

  Geoffrey returned her glare with a smile and a smirk of his very own. “My lady, I assure you, all things in my hands are under my control. And, I am learning the country has delights I have yet to truly sample.”

  The unmitigated gall of the man, Angeline thought to herself. She couldn’t stand his presence for another second. With that, she turned back to her father. “I am going out to the garden now, Papa. I shall see you in a little while. Perhaps for tea.”

  “Lord Colburn is staying for the midday meal, my dear. I had hoped you would join us,” requested her father.

  “Nonsense, Papa. You will be all ajabber about estates, cattle, and crops. I have no interest in those things. Enjoy your lunch. Lord Colburn,” Angeline nodded her head as she turned toward him, making it clear she was headed for the door.

  Geoffrey was too quick for her. He grasped her hand in his yet again and brought it back to his lips. The fragrances of lavender and sage filled his head—flowers from the meadow. He bent his head to place a kiss upon her fingers but, as he did so, opened his lips to run his tongue over the soft knuckles in his grasp.

  He heard her stifle a gasp. He lifted his head as her seafoam green eyes flew to his, the fury in them igniting the air between them.

  “Sir.”

  She said the single syllable with icicles dripping from it.

  As Lady Angeline vacated the library, Geoffrey and Angus returned to their discussion.

  “You can see what I mean
,” stated Angus plainly. “Cool as a cucumber. Quite possibly the Ice Maiden herself.”

  “Oh, I doubt that, Angus. I am most sure she just needs the handling of the right man to bring her round to seeing the way things should be.”

  “So do you think you are that man, Geoffrey? Would you be willing to make a go of her?” his host asked with a wily gleam in his eye.

  “I just might be, my friend. But only time will tell this tale.”

  Just then the butler announced luncheon. The two gentlemen retired to the dining room.

  Angeline went out to the garden hoping for distraction. Try as she might, she could not get Lord Colburn and her disquieting feelings out of her mind. Her backside still tingled where the hardness of his manhood had pressed against her. Her stomach had a warm, tight feeling in it that only intensified whenever she remembered the events that had occurred. In her limited experience, no other man had made her feel like this.

  Given the chance, could every man do this to a woman? Why in the world did she feel this way? How much more was there to experience? Would she ever have the opportunity? The desire?

  With luncheon completed, Geoffrey said adieu to his host, then sought his nemesis among her flowers. It was time to take control of the situation, to move things along further and faster. When his gaze fell upon her, he remained screened by the foliage to watch her work.

  She knew what she was about, snipping a dead blossom here, pulling a weed there, cutting a brilliant bloom and placing it in her basket. The more he saw of her, the more he was drawn into her spell. Or maybe he should think it was her web, as she would not be an easy project.