An Indecent Proposition (12 page)

The lack of pretense was welcome. It also surprised her.

He
surprised her.

She was still nervous over the coming night, but Nicholas Manning had a singular ability to manage to carry most of the conversation without monopolizing it, and she’d already noticed he was a rare breed of man who didn’t wish to talk more about himself than any other subject.

His horses were another matter. It was clear his pastime was also an obsession and she’d seen firsthand at Ascot how successful of one.

“Norfolk won that day,” he told her, a slight whimsical smile of reminiscence on his face at the end of one story, fingering his glass of after-dinner port. “With a cracked cannon bone. He couldn’t walk out of the winner’s circle. I’ve never seen such spirit. My trainer wept. I admit to a tear or two myself.”

The Devilish Duke crying over an injured horse when he could buy another—or hundreds of others—with his fortune?

Caroline gazed at him from across the table. “Have you always been horse mad?”

He laughed in a flash of white teeth. “I think so. As a boy I contrived to avoid my tutor, but he knew he could find me in the stables if I mysteriously did not appear for my lessons. I still consider the bloodstock book more interesting than Latin and ancient Greek.”

The idea of him as a child intrigued her. Why, she wasn’t sure, maybe because her childhood had been so bleak.

“Do you have brothers and sisters?” Caroline could smell the clean fresh scent of cut grass and flowers from the breeze sifting in the open windows, the serenity of the evening soothing.

“An older sister,” he answered readily enough. “She is married to a baronet and they have three daughters. Charles works for the War Department in a capacity that no one really mentions.”

Having spent her childhood bereft of family warmth, Caroline felt a twinge of envy at the affection in his voice. “And your mother?”

“Usually resides in Kent at Rothay Hall, but occasionally comes to London.” He quirked a brow. “She’s a formidable force and I admit I do my best to steer clear of an over-abundance of contact. I respect and adore her, but she never stops trying to arrange my life to her liking.”

Her father and aunt had arranged things in her life, and it definitely hadn’t been to
her
liking, so Caroline could sympathize with his caution. She murmured, “At least you are the duke and no one can force you into anything.”

Nicholas regarded her with a level look. “I understand your sentiment, but make no mistake. We all have our obligations we don’t relish. Titles are not a carte blanche to do as you please, believe me.” He shifted, just an adjustment of his lean body, like a panther stretching after a nap in the warmth of a hot afternoon. “You said earlier your aunt passed on. What of your father?”

Fair enough. She’d asked him about his family. Caroline shook her head. “He is still in York, and without our discussing it, we have come to a mutual agreement to ignore each other. I wasn’t a son.”

“Ah.” As heir to a dukedom, that one word said he understood probably very well.

The memory of Franklin’s recent call came to mind and she suppressed a quiver of unease. “My husband’s cousin—the current Lord Wynn—is about all I can really call family, and in his case, I’d rather not.”

Her expression must have been telling, for Nicholas’s brow furrowed. Sprawled in his chair, all indolent male, he had unintentional but definite arrogance in his demeanor, as if he were capable of changing things. “He’s a difficulty?”

“He wants to be,” she admitted.

“Can I help?”

Her life was her own and hard-won at that. “Why would you offer?” she challenged. “And why would I accept?”

After a moment in which they just looked at each other, he smiled. “I’m not sure on either count.” He added quietly, “Except I like being here with you. This”—he indicated the cozy room, the table still scattered with dishes—“is nice.”

What a simple statement. Yet so powerful. It wasn’t flirtatious either, not in the smooth way she expected, but infinitely more persuasive because it evoked the possibility he might be sincere and not just out to charm.

“Nice?” She arched a brow and smiled back.

The Duke of Rothay edged back in his seat, long legs extended, his wineglass in his hand. “I thought the word appropriate. Should I rephrase?”

“No.” The response was made before she thought it over.

The memory of the glorious burst of pleasure he’d brought her that afternoon intruded. Several times, she’d caught herself gazing at him across the small table with a sense of disbelief. Not just that she was there, with him, doing one of the most—no,
the
most—outrageous thing of her life, but that he really was nothing like what she expected. Part of the persona was true; the charisma of the rakish aristocrat was very much there, but it was surface polish, and the man underneath didn’t seem at all calculating or simply intent on selfish pleasure. Earlier he’d known she would have let him bed her, but he’d opted not to, even though she’d seen well enough he was more than ready. It could have been humiliating to know he had been able to perceive so easily she was nervous and afraid, but the sensitivity he’d shown was unexpected.

A perceptive libertine. Hmm. That was an interesting facet she didn’t expect.

But then again, she hadn’t known what to expect at all.

Between her indifferent father and her domineering, cruel husband, she did not have a high opinion of men in general. Maybe sexual revelation was not all she would learn in this wicked week.

“In the morning we can ride out by the river, if you like.”

Caroline jerked back to attention, feeling a faint flush in her cheeks at her introspection. “I’m at your disposal.”

His eyes crinkled attractively at the corners when he smiled. “I like the sound of that, my lady.”

The husky note in his voice unsettled her. “I meant . . . ,” she started to say tartly, and then trailed off. Actually, she meant just what she said.

Nicholas lifted his brows. He just sat there, comfortable and relaxed.

“Does everything have a sexual connotation to you, Rothay?” She gathered her cool poise like an enveloping cloak. With the intimacy of the meal and the romantic walk in the garden earlier—where he’d picked her roses, actually tucking one behind her ear—it was easier than she imagined to let it slip.

“When I am with someone as beautiful as you, probably so.” An unrepentant shrug lifted his broad shoulders.

“Does anyone resist you?” She had to admit she was curious. His reputation was formidable, but gossip was unreliable.

He toyed idly with the stem of his wineglass. The flickering candlelight played over his refined features, highlighting the perfection of his elegant bone structure and making his raven hair gleam. “I’m discerning in my choices.”

“In other words, once you pick out a woman from your throng of eager admirers, she’s yours?” She’d heard the twitters, seen the impact as he walked into a ballroom or rode by in Hyde Park.

His laugh was low and mellow. “How tawdry you make it sound. Like cutting out a mare from the herd.”

She wasn’t good at witty banter. There had been very little practice in her life. “I am sometimes honest to a fault,” she admitted. “My aunt told me most of my life how unladylike it is, even though my governess encouraged free thought, and I suppose to a certain extent it is why I am so quiet when out in society. Lord knows I might very well say something all too blunt. It must come from spending a great deal of time alone as a child. There is no need to lie to yourself.”

Nicholas lounged back in his chair, all languid male grace. His expression was hard to read. “I envy that, believe it or not.”

“Envy what?”

“The notion you had some privacy in your youth, and your ability to be forthright with your opinions. From the cradle, I was hovered over every moment as the ducal heir and, believe me, taught to be politic with my speech from the moment I uttered my first word. The title comes with a certain level of responsibility and inevitable social criticism.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Caroline tilted her head to one side, studying him. “It is hard to feel sorry for someone who is handsome, rich, and titled, but there are drawbacks to everything, I suppose.”

“It is difficult to feel sorry for a woman who is exquisitely beautiful, an heiress, and who could have her pick of any man in London, but possible she still has her demons.”

His insight was too close to the truth.

Yes, Edward was a demon, haunting her ability to live a full life. “Touché,” she said coolly. “I am counting on exorcising one of mine this week.”

“Having had a taste of your passion, I can say with all due honesty it will be my pleasure to help you do so.”

He replied with such smooth facile assurance, she fought the vivid blush his emphasis on the word “taste” brought, and tried for at least some semblance of equal sophistication. “And next week you will have forgotten me. Isn’t that how it works? Don’t you tire of transient entanglements?”

Her implied criticism didn’t ruffle his self-assurance. “I thought you weren’t interested in permanence.”

“I’m not,” she hastened to agree.

“Then we are in accord and can enjoy each other without reservations. I think this will be a very pleasant seven days.” He glanced at the window, where the stars were visible in the velvet black sky, the draperies still open and the window ajar to let in the fragrant night breeze. “And nights.”

She was starting to believe he was right, though he hadn’t answered her question. Caroline folded her hands in her lap. “I didn’t expect to like you.”

Nicholas laughed. “You
are
certainly direct, my sweet. Please don’t tell me I have a reputation for being an unlikable fellow.”

“No, you are thought to be most charming. I just had my doubts the charm was real.”

“Ah, an affectation to lure young maidens into my bed, is that it?” Something flickered in his dark eyes.

Annoyance, perhaps? No, she didn’t know him well enough to judge.

“Well . . . yes.”

“Yet you agreed to spend an entire week in my company.”

“We both know I have my reasons.”

Nicholas gazed at her, his tall, lean body still and his expression enigmatic. “I see we are being very honest with each other. I find it refreshing, to tell the truth. Too often love affairs are full of intrigue and pretense. In the spirit of that sentiment, I will say I don’t usually favor women with little experience in bed, nor do I sleep with marriageable young widows who have obviously been roughly treated in the past.”

Maybe she’d been too forthright. Caroline felt a flicker of alarm that the next thing he was going to tell her was he wanted to call off their bargain.

To her relief, he went on, “But you are very tempting, my lady, and now that I understand more fully your reasons for being here, I am more than honored.” He added almost conversationally, “Were your despicable husband still alive, I’d thrash him within an inch of his worthless life.”

She registered his sincerity with a start, because the grim look in his eyes belied the casual tone of his voice.

She’d never had a champion. As a child, she’d been sheltered by her maidenly autocratic aunt, and she’d been barely eighteen when married. The arrangement had been completely negotiated without her consent, but she hadn’t realized the devastating reality of it until her wedding night. When she discovered how ruthless and unfeeling the man she’d been forced to marry was, she’d left him and gone home to York. Her father had sent her right back and God knew she’d suffered for that lapse in judgment. The bruises had taken weeks to fade.

“I loathed him.” It was difficult to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but she did her best. “Logic assures me all men are not like him, but experience sometimes outweighs good sense.”

“So what you need are some good experiences to outweigh the bad.”

The husky drawl of the handsome duke’s voice caused a shiver to run up her spine.

“I agree. That’s why I am here.” Caroline squared her shoulders.

“Then maybe it is time we retire.” Nicholas stood in one smooth athletic movement and held out his hand.

 

His unsatisfied body wanted haste, but if there was one thing Nicholas had learned over the past few years as he sampled some of the most beauteous ladies of the
ton
, it was sexual restraint. Women took longer to arouse; some were adventurous in bed, others demure, a few downright insatiable. Obliging his lovers in whatever capacity they needed had never been a problem, but Caroline was entirely different. Beneath that exquisitely beautiful exterior, she was damaged, and, though he’d established a fragile bond of trust earlier, still very much a challenge.

He wanted to carry her up the stairs in a dramatic romantic gesture, but rejected the idea because it would remind her of his superior size and strength. Instead he escorted her politely, her hand in the crook of his arm, as if leading her into a formal parlor or an evening at the opera.

The truth was, he was still very much out of his element.

She wasn’t in hers either.

Why did it intrigue him?

Maybe it was ennui, but he really didn’t think so. Caroline was somehow strong, outspoken, distant . . . and yet vulnerable, completely feminine, and, to his mind, courageous in a unique way.

Very much unlike a memory from his past. That particular lady had been anything but defenseless and he had been the one in over his head. Since then he made it a point to hold the upper hand.

Always.

When they reached the upstairs hallway, he decided on her room, thinking if they used his again, she would once more feel overpowered and on uncertain ground. “In here,” he murmured, opening the door. “I apologize for the lack of a lady’s maid, but I anticipated you wanted privacy more than convenience.”