The Seduction

Chapter Twelve

“Vanessa, I am on tenterhooks to discover what happened at the ball,” Olivia demanded the following morning as her invalid chair was pushed into the bedchamber by a female servant.

Not yet fully awake, Vanessa repressed a sigh and rolled over. She winced at the bright light that flooded the room as the draperies were parted.

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Olivia added insistently as another maid settled a tray on a table. “I thought you might eat while you tell me about last night.”

Realizing she would get no peace until she satisfied the girl’s curiosity, Vanessa sat up in bed and settled back against the pillows. Despite the delicious aroma of warm scones, she had no appetite, but she accepted a cup of chocolate and stirred it while mentally debating how much to tell Olivia about last night’s disaster.

She had stayed awake half the night, forcing herself to face the unpalatable truth. Her reputation was severely damaged by her association with Damien, possibly beyond repair-

“Vanessa, are you attending me?” Olivia asked.

She forced a smile, realizing that Olivia had dismissed the servants and was waiting eagerly for an account of the ball. “I“m sorry, I was woolgathering. I had a very enjoyable evening last night.”

Olivia looked troubled. “That is not what I hear. Servants’ gossip says that Damien was involved in a fight over your honor.”

Vanessa grimaced. “It wasn’t as bad as all that. One of your local gentlemen became foxed and tried to kiss me. Your brother had to intervene. The few witnesses to the scene,” she added wryly, “must have embellished the tale.”

“Who was the gentleman?”

Vanessa hesitated, reluctant to spread the gossip further. But Olivia seemed determined to hear the intimate details. And she should be warned in case she ever found herself in a similar circumstance. “I believe his name was Henry Marsh.”

“Henry? How dare he!” Olivia exclaimed indignantly. “I never have liked him above half. Oh, Vanessa, it must have been horrible for you.”

“It was not pleasant,” she agreed. “But I learned a valuable lesson. In future I shall take care to avoid being alone with a strange gentleman. In fact, I think it wise for me to avoid such gatherings altogether.”

Olivia gave a distressed frown. “I feared something like this might happen, that you would become the subject of ugly rumor-mongering, simply because you are a guest here. It is all Damien’s fault. The most virtuous woman alive would be suspect in his company. I know. With the wickedness of my family, I have always had to behave like a saint, always had to be above reproach. It isn’t fair,” she added somewhat bitterly.

Last night Vanessa had agreed with the sentiment. Now, however, she felt only resignation. She should despise Damien for forcing her into such a position, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. It she were totally honest, she would admit even to being grateful to him for helping liberate her from her fears.

“There is a solution to the problem,” Olivia said, putting a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Damien could undo the damage he has wrought. He could offer you the protection of his name and wed you.”

Vanessa had to smile at the absurdity of the idea.

“I am quite serious!” Olivia declared. “You must do your best to make Damien fall in love with you. Then he would be compelled to make you an honorable offer of marriage. It would be delightful, don’t you think? We would be sisters.”

Vanessa was pleased to see Olivia excited about something, even though her plan couldn’t possibly work.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be easy,” Olivia mused aloud, echoing her thoughts. “Damien seems quite fond of you, but he has always vowed he will never fall in love. He says that he’s seen love destroy too many people, including Mama and Papa. That is why he has remained so unattainable, even though he’s been pursued by countless females.”

Vanessa shook her head. The suggestion was almost laughable. Damien Sinclair was not the sort of man ever to fall in love. Most certainly he would not allow himself to succumb to the sister of a mortal enemy.

She kept her tone light, though, when she replied. “Everyone knows that libertines never fall in love. And in any event, I have no desire ever to marry again.”

Olivia’s face fell. “I suppose it was a wild notion. But I should dearly love to have you for a sister.”

They spoke of more mundane matters for a time, but when Olivia left her so she might dress, Vanessa was struck by a sudden spell of melancholy. She closed her eyes, weary from lack of sleep and emotional strain. It was hopeless to think she might redeem her reputation. As mercenary as it was to contemplate, perhaps she would be wise to consider her friend Lettice’s advice to find a wealthy protector…

Vanessa’s eyes opened. She was resigned to the loss of her good name, but it might be possible to turn her ruination to advantage.

Frowning, she sat up slowly and struggled to focus her thoughts. Being a mistress was far better than being a wife, she was certain, for at least it offered a measure of freedom and independence. A mistress wasn’t considered legal property with fewer rights than a slave.

And not all fallen women faced a future of whoredom and shame. If rumor could be believed, there were Cyprians in London who commanded fortunes in their chosen professions, highfliers who had half the gentlemen of the ton at their feet.

At the moment, Vanessa acknowledged, she was ill-equipped to join their illustrious ranks. She lacked the necessary skills to enthrall any man-although she was far more experienced at lovemaking now than before meeting Damien…

Damien. Of course.

Vanessa’s lips tightened. She’d always been adamant about saving her penniless younger sisters from unhappy marriages like the one she was forced to make, and her liaison with England’s most notorious lover could prove her best chance to secure their financial welfare. Who better than the wicked Lord Sin to advise her on how to attract the attentions of even the most elusive gentlemen?

Her chin lifted defiantly. If she took so brazen a step as to join the muslin company, it would be difficult to return to her old life. As a demirep, she would have to avoid her sisters altogether so she wouldn’t drag them into any scandal attached to her name. Even then, her notoriety could reflect on them and diminish their chances for a distinguished marriage. But at least they wouldn’t be forced into wifehood against their will.

It would be an enormous step, and doubtless irrevocable. Yet she could never hope to support her family on the meager salary a governess or lady’s companion commanded, even if she could manage to find employment. Virtue and respectability couldn’t provide even the basic necessities such as food and shelter. And the world already called her wanton…

Gathering her courage, Vanessa pushed aside the covers and rose to dress. She intended to seek out Damien now, before she lost her resolve. She had to speak to him regarding the grave matter of her education.

Damien bent over the neck of the straining chestnut gelding, urging the horse to greater speed. He was coldly furious at himself-for any number of transgressions. For misjudging the difficulties Vanessa faced in society as his undeclared mistress. For underestimating how savage the petty cruelties of the ton could be. For allowing that idiot son of a squire to accost her. For feeling such guilt at her distress. For having so little control over his own passion…

Hoping rigorous exercise would temper his desire, Damien had gone riding to work off his frustrations, racing across fields and charging up grassy slopes, recklessly jumping the hedges and streams in his path, the beat of churning hooves pounding in his head.

Finally, though, he slowed to spare his horse. It was criminal to take his frustrations out on a superb animal, and physical exertion had little effect on the emotions or sexual tension surging through him.

Bringing his sweating mount down to an easy walk, he turned back toward Rosewood. Threatening storm clouds swelled on the horizon, echoing his dark mood.

After a week’s absence he should have forgotten Vanessa. But his plan to banish her from his thoughts and mind hadn’t worked. She wouldn’t be forgotten, devil take her.

He’d returned home after his journey, determined to deny his obsession, but the instant he’d laid eyes on her in the music room, sitting there so cool and beautiful, his heart had leapt. He hadn’t taken her in his arms as every primal instinct urged him to do, but instead pretended a callous detachment.

His pretense had nearly shattered when he saw her in that stunning golden gown, looking as magnificent as a queen, as enchanting as any male fantasy. His loins had caught fire, and it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to refrain from sweeping Vanessa off her feet and carrying her upstairs to his bed, where he could spend the night ravishing her to his heart’s content, instead of attending a damned ball.

At dinner and for the rest of the evening, her cool, regal demeanor had mirrored his own attempt at remoteness. Damnation, he should have been pleased she was astute enough not to protest his withdrawal. The warmth that had once been so much a part of their relationship, the intimacy, the friendship, had ended, just as he’d wished. Yet, to his dismay, Damien had found himself missing the sweetness, the sharing, the softness of her smile…

And then had come the drunken assault on Vanessa and his own unrecognizable responses: his killing rage at the perpetrator and his fierce remorse afterward, when he had yearned to hold her and comfort her, to soothe away her distress. The depth of his emotion had stunned him.

Damien muttered a savage oath under his breath. He did indeed seem to be following in his illustrious father’s footsteps. He had vowed years ago he would never succumb to the blind desire that had nearly destroyed his father; he never wanted to care that deeply for any woman.

But Clune’s house party hadn’t provided an escape or satisfied his fierce need. His longing to possess Vanessa hadn’t ended, even when he’d sought out other feminine companionship in an effort to forget her. The bald truth was, he hadn’t wanted anyone else. He hadn’t been able to lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh as usual. And his restlessness, his empty longing, remained.

Damien hardened his jaw. He very much feared there was only one woman who could ease the burning desire inside him.

There was no use denying his intense need for her, Damien acknowledged grimly. He would simply have to let his obsession run its course.

It came as something of a jolt when, moments later, he saw a rider in the distance who looked very much like the object of his all-consuming thoughts. Damien hoped he might be dreaming, but when the rider grew close, he realized he was indeed seeing Vanessa.

He pulled up abruptly and sat waiting for her, cursing the quickening of his heart. Even in a worn riding habit, she looked beautiful. Desire stung him with fresh insistence, and he had to discipline himself severely to maintain an appearance of indifference when she reached him.

“I hoped I might find you alone,” she said, drawing her gray mount to a halt. “If you have a few moments to spare, I have something to ask you… a favor, if you will.”

“I am at your service as always,” Damien replied noncommittally.

A slight flush rising to her cheeks, Vanessa glanced around her with uncertainty. Surprisingly then, she dismounted and released the reins to let her mare graze. Just as oddly, she turned her back to him, staring at the distant landscape with its patchwork of fields and hedges and gentle woodlands. She seemed reluctant to meet his gaze.

Curiosity aroused, he waited.

“I have been thinking…” she began hesitantly. “About my situation. Regrettably, my association with you has brought me… an unwanted notoriety. However, it could yet prove to my benefit.”

“What do you mean?” he asked when she faltered.

She took a deep breath and cast him a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “I would like you to teach me how to satisfy a man’s desires.”

Damien frowned. “I’m not certain I understand.”

Slowly, at last, she turned to face him. Her chin lifted a degree in determination, but her gaze remained clear-eyed. “I would like to learn the skills a Cyprian should know… Whatever secrets that would make me alluring to even the most jaded lover, so that after my term as your mistress is up, I can win a wealthy protector who won’t be particular about my scarlet past.”

Damien felt his breath suddenly falter. She couldn’t be serious. Yet Vanessa was continuing in a low voice, all the more credible for its very calmness.

“I must be pragmatic, I’ve come to realize. A woman without any means of independence is at the mercy of fate. It is the way of the world, and I can’t change that. But I can try to make the best of it. Joining the demimonde seems to be the most feasible way for me to support my sisters.”

Almost absently she reached out to stroke the mare’s shoulder. “There are nearly two months left of our bargain, time in which I can prepare myself for a new sort of life. I calculate that if I make myself desirable to men, then I can improve my chances of finding one who might not be so very disagreeable as a bed partner, perhaps even someone who will be to my liking. I would be grateful if you could assist me. Your expertise in the art of seduction is unparalleled, and I doubt I could hope for any better tutor.”

Damien’s mind had gone numb. She wanted him to teach her a whore’s tricks, how best to use her body so that she could seduce some unsuspecting moneybags.

“In short,” she added quietly, “I should like you to teach me to be wicked.”

Her smile was strangely stoic and cut at his heart. Damien felt a mask descend over his face to hide his turmoil.

Was her request some sly ploy to play on his guilt? It was disappointing to think Vanessa Wyndham might be as mercenary as countless other members of her sex. Yet she’d implied that greed wasn’t driving her so much as devotion to her sisters. Was her concern for their welfare really any different from his desire to protect his own sister?

Other genteel ladies in her position might have demanded marriage in reparation for his brazen treatment of her. Instead, she asked only that he teach her how to pleasure other men, to groom her for a role he had foisted upon her against her will. Could he do it?

By any rational standards, he should be relieved by her proposal. If he could find her a rich protector, he would no longer have to feel guilty about ruining her. He could treat her coolly, could view their relationship as nothing more than a business arrangement.

Logically, her suggestion provided a good solution to their dilemma. He could indulge in his passion for Vanessa without concern for her future. More critically, he could let his obsession fade naturally, as it inevitably would, given time.

So why then did he fear such a new arrangement would leave him too vulnerable? Why, for one frozen moment, had he experienced a jarring sensation curiously like panic? And why now did he feel this odd numbness in the vicinity of his heart?

Damien shook his head, quelling the fleeting sensations of shock and confusion warring within him.

“Very well, sweeting,” he found himself saying, almost as if he were outside of himself, divorced from his feelings. “I believe I can manage to accommodate your wishes in the matter.”

Her instruction began that same afternoon, for why wait, Damien asked in a curiously dispassionate voice.

Rain was falling outside in a steady drizzle when he entered her bedchamber by way of the secret passage. Vanessa sat stiffly awaiting him on the chaise lounge, still attired in her riding habit. It was the first time Damien had visited her in daylight, and the gloom made the atmosphere seem colder, less intimate.

She stared at him uncertainly as he approached her, more nervous now than at any time since she had made the momentous decision to give herself to him fully. He still wore riding breeches and boots and was in his shirtsleeves, having removed his coat and waistcoat and cravat. His raven hair seemed very dark against the white cambric of his shirt.

Then he smiled, a slow smile that banished the gloom and her nerves with it.

“This will never do, sweeting,” he murmured in the warm masculine voice that never failed to bring her senses alive. “I can see that I have much to teach you. We should begin with how to receive your lover. You look as if you are facing an execution.”

His gray eyes warm, he took her hand and pressed a delicate kiss on the pulse at her wrist, making her heart stumble. “First lesson: When your lover expresses a wish to visit you, you must give the impression that you are eagerly awaiting his arrival. To that end, you should be appropriately attired-something suitable for the boudoir that emphasizes your natural feminine allure. Shall I help you slip into something more comfortable?”

“I believe I can manage,” Vanessa replied, finding her voice. She was determined to remain as dispassionate as Damien seemed to be. His talk of other lovers shouldn’t distress her. She had asked him to further her sexual education, and he was merely complying.

When she rose and went to the armoire to fetch a wrapper, Damien settled in her place on the chaise lounge, where he could watch her.

“Keep in mind that you are offering the promise of pleasure,” he added casually. “It helps to set the scene, much as for a stage play. At night, a low fire, perhaps candles, a snifter of your lover’s favorite cognac… small touches that express your welcome.”

“And during the day?” she asked as she located a wrapper of pale cream satin.

His smile was soft and beguiling as sin, reminding her once again of how vulnerable she was to his effortless charm. “Daylight requires a bit more imagination, but the same rules apply. Your goal should be to make your lover feel as if he is the only man in the world you want. The only one who can stir your senses and make your pulse race.”

Just as you make me feel, Vanessa thought silently. She stepped behind the screen to change out of her riding habit.

“Take now, for instance,” Damien said. “Instead of hiding yourself away, you could make a display of undressing for me. Remove each item of clothing slowly, so that my gaze lingers on your charms. Turn the simple act of disrobing into a sensual game with the express purpose of arousing me.”

She turned to look at him over the edge of the screen. “You consider this a game?”

Damien gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders. “All lovemaking is a game. One you want to learn how to win if you mean to command a wealthy clientele.”

Vanessa winced at the reminder, wondering if she could ever treat such intimate relations as coldly as Damien did. She finished undressing and donned the satin wrapper. Then lifting her chin, she came out from behind the screen and went to him.

He surveyed her thoughtfully. “If you mean to make a name for yourself as a courtesan, you will have to shed some of your reserve, angel.”

Rising, he took her hand and led her to stand before the floor-length cheval glass, where she could see her reflection in the mirror. Behind her, Damien reached up to pull the pins from her hair, stroking the thick, burnished mass till it fell in shining waves over her shoulders. His arms came around her then to unfasten the frogs of her wrapper, and he parted the fabric, exposing the full length of her naked body to both their views.

His practiced rake’s glance moved over her reflection, warm and assessing. “You have an exquisite body, lush and slender and made for pleasure. You should not think to hide it.”

His eyes seemed to brand her where they touched. Vanessa shivered when he ran a finger down her arm in a slow, unhurried caress, a deliberate attack on her senses.

“No, sweeting, don’t shut your eyes. Look at yourself.”

Brushing aside the silken strands of her hair, he bared the tempting nape and planted a soft kiss on her flesh. Then, easing the wrapper from her shoulders, he let it fall to the floor. “See how beautiful you are.” His voice stroked her. just as his hands were doing.

He trailed his fingers over the warm satin of her back. Then he moved his hands slowly around to the front of her body, briefly grazing her belly, the sleek curves of her hips and thighs, then rising again to cup her full, lush breasts.

The nipples hardened and tightened in instant response, while Vanessa caught her breath in a sensual gasp.

“You have the body of a temptress,” Damien murmured. Finding her ear, he touched it with his tongue. “For this luscious form a man might forget his very name.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips as he pressed close against her back, his rich, luxurious warmth curling around her.

“No, watch yourself. Watch.”

She obeyed, her eyes dark with passion as his warm, naked fingers caressed her breasts, lifting and defining their shape, stroking the tight buds of her jutting nipples with his thumbs. Arousal seared through her hot and thick as she watched her own seduction.

When his lips lowered again to kiss her nape, Vanessa arched her neck, the slow overpowering of her senses making her weak. The heat of his caresses flared through her as his teeth nibbled at her sensitive skin.

“I want to touch you all over,” he whispered huskily. “To kiss every delectable inch of you and make it mine.”

His searing lips sent tremors of delight through her. She leaned back fully against him, melting against his warmth as he teased her thrusting nipples, pulling and rubbing the taut peaks till they ached with pleasure. It was acutely arousing, incredibly erotic.

Through a haze of desire Vanessa watched his exquisite ministrations. Before meeting Damien, she hadn’t considered herself wicked, but she no longer recognized the flushed, trembling woman in the mirror. She no longer knew herself.

She repressed a moan as one of his hands moved lower, wandering with deliberate slowness over her stomach to the soft dark curls that covered her mons. His gaze locked with hers in the mirror as his fingers delved into the warm, damp softness between her thighs, stroking her moist flesh.

When she whimpered, he smiled in approval. “Consider this your next lesson, sweeting. A wanton response inflames a man. Let me see how much you enjoy my touch.”

Slowly he parted her swollen sex lips and thrust two fingers inside her. Vanessa gave a soft cry of delight at the sensual shafts of fire that arrowed through her melting loins.

“Yes, that’s it… Let yourself go…”

Almost shaking with need, she surrendered to pleasure, her straining breasts rising and falling with her ragged breaths…

The explosive orgasm caught her by surprise. She convulsed in a climax all the more powerful because of Damien’s determination to draw the last drop of rapture from her with his stroking fingers. The relentless intensity of it left her shuddering, while her flesh continued to pulse sweetly with aftershocks.

When she sagged weakly back against him, Damien took advantage of her lassitude. Catching her shoulders, he guided her the short distance to the wall, and with her back still to him, made her bend forward, her hands pressed against the hard surface. Behind her he unbuttoned the straining placket of his breeches.

She was shocked when she felt the hard, smooth flesh of his erection brush against her buttocks, but she was more shocked by the wild excitement that flared through her when she realized his intent. She wanted this, wanted him to take her this way, from behind.

She tensed, but Damien’s voice came soft and hoarse in her ear. “Easy, sweet.”

In mute helplessness Vanessa braced herself against the wall.

With unhurried grace he parted her thighs and gripped his iron-hard shaft, then eased its silken head into the sleek, hot passage of her womanhood.

“Open to me,” he ordered.

She moaned with pleasure as he thrust deep into her quivering flesh, twisting restlessly as he began to move inside her.

In response he captured her writhing hips, holding her still to prevent escape. Yet she had no desire to escape. With hypnotic motion his loins caressed hers, slow and sure, sheathing, drawing away, until it became sweet, ecstatic torture.

Throbbing with heat, burning with the need to feel him driving deep into her, Vanessa thrust wildly back against him, impaling herself on his magnificent hardness. With each rocking jolt, her ragged breaths came faster. Her breasts heaved as he sweetly ravished her, forcing her upward with each powerful surge, plunging his full, great length inside her.

She was a mass of frenzied sensation… flame-hot with desire… Then, suddenly, in the hammering wildness, the spasms broke over her, intense waves of pleasure that engulfed her entire body and caught Damien in their wake. She heard his low groans, felt him shake with the strength of his own fulfillment as her cries echoed through the room.

The explosive passion left her dazed and exhausted. Moments later he withdrew from her, leaving Vanessa leaning weakly against the wall, missing his warmth.

“A credible effort, sweeting,” he said calmly, his voice holding only an edge of hoarseness as he rebuttoned his breeches. “With a little more practice, you should be quite proficient.”

The cool observation brought cruel memory rushing back.

Vanessa shivered, her heart aching with a sensation akin to despair. Damien had done precisely as she had asked, showing her how to use her body to fulfill his insatiable carnal need. And in so doing, he had shattered any illusion of intimacy between them. His passion had been nothing more than an exercise for him, the discharging of a duty.

Vanessa felt the chill wrap around her nakedness.

She had never felt so sated, so replete, in all her life.

Or so cold.