Emily's Seduction (4 page)

She shuddered at the memory.

Something owned Alex’s soul. Something dark and dangerous and she didn’t know what. He had told her as much when he’d asked her to marry him, and he had made it clear that he never intended to enlighten her. She didn’t know how to fight something unknown. But she was going to have to learn because she loved him more than her life. She wanted him. All of him.

She would win.

Chapter Two

“Alexander,” Catarina whispered, for here he was not Alexander and she was not Catarina. Using their forbidden names was a way to maintain their solidarity. “Is she not beautiful?”

He glanced up from the red-faced scrap of humanity to Catarina
’
s exhausted face. “She is.”

“And yet it would have been better had she died.”

His jaw tightened. “Don
’
t say that.”

“He means to sell her off—
just as he does the others, when she is old enough.”

The pit of his stomach burned. “I told you, before that happens I will find a way and get us out of here—
all
of us.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “We will never be able to escape with an infant.”

Exhaustion swept through his body. It had been a long night. They wouldn
’
t let him see her nor would they tell him anything about her progress. He was only here with Catarina now because he had bribed her handmaiden. Well, fucked her would have been a more apt term. Up against a wall with his hand fastened firmly over her mouth to silence her cries of pleasure. Every single female servant in this household was desperate for a hard shagging. However, he could be killed for spending his precious, expensively purchased seed in such a lowly vessel. It was a very strange world for a young American to find himself in.

“It just can’
t be done. Better that she had died.” Catarina
’
s soft voice broke on the last word.

Anger rose, hot like bile in his throat. Anger at the situation, anger at the madman who had created the situation. But most of all, anger at himself for not finding a way out before this. “I will not let a child of mine grow up a slave. I will find a way. You must trust in me.”

Alex’s eyes came open and he stared dumbly at the familiar sight of his study. It didn’t seem real. Only Catarina seemed real. So real, so close he could smell her musk-rose perfume, could reach out and touch her pale gold hair. Catarina with her emerald eyes and rosebud mouth, her perfect beauty.

He had failed her. It could never be made right.

Now Aimee was in the hands of privateers. Strangers empowered by their king to act against their enemies in any way necessary. Ice had replaced the blood in his veins and a weight like pure iron rested in his guts.

And there was nothing he could do but wait for more news.

* * * *

Emily sat in the parlour holding her book in her hands, inhaling the new scent of smooth, cool leather. It had come from the printer’s shop early this morning but she was still in awe over it. She couldn’t stop running her fingertips over the gilt letters that spelled her name.

“So, Rachel actually left you all alone here with Alex?”

She looked up. A smile brightened Peter Van Moerdijk’s almost femininely beautiful face. His silver-gilt hair sparkled in the candlelight. But it was his startlingly sky-blue eyes that defined him, always unfailingly warm and kind. He was one of the few people who shared the secret of her engagement to Alex. He was Cornelia Hazelwood’s much younger half-brother.

They had been sitting in silence. She’d found his visit rather awkward, for Rachel and Nancy had gone to Virginia for a wedding. It was Friday night and Alex had given Mrs Webbs, the housekeeper, and her husband Cato leave to go visit with their daughter, who lived in another town. Their granddaughters, the housemaids, had gone with them. The house was quiet.

“Your book has caused quite a stir in Congress.”

“So Alex tells me,” she said with a surge of mixed emotions.

A complete but pamphlet version of her book had been distributed to key members of Congress already. Alex had paid for the woodcuts and the etchings and the printing—everything. He had wanted it for his own purposes to gather support for a National Navy. It was a collection of personal stories of some of the men from a ship out of Philadelphia that had been taken into captivity by the Barbary pirates.

She still wasn’t quite certain how she felt about her work being used to promote the move for a National Navy and not just purely for the cause of men held in Barbary. But she knew Alex believed deeply that a standing navy was the only way for the United States to have free passage over the oceans and for its mariners to be safe from the Barbary pirates.

“It certainly puts a more human face on the men from the
Dauphin
,” Peter said. “And you did it all through correspondence, under your grandmother’s nose?”

“Yes.” She laughed softly at his wry tone. “I did.”

Emily had lived a sheltered life, held firmly under her grandmother’s thumb until the yellow fever had taken the old woman’s life the autumn just past. Emily herself had taken sick with the fever and nearly died. How different her life was today.

Peter grinned. He had a sideways grin, so captivating it disarmed. “Well, well, well.”

“Well, what?” she asked, feeling warmth prickle around her ears and the edges of her scalp.

“You look so innocent, but aren’t you a clever, devious little thing?”

Heat flared over her face and she threw her hands up to her cheeks. “Oh, that’s not fair. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?” he asked, grinning wider now. He was flirting with her. He always did. It set her palms sweating, for she wasn’t yet used to gentlemen other than Alex giving her such attention. Even if Peter was Alex’s second cousin, on his father’s side.

Flustered, she had to look down at her lap. She fidgeted, caressing the nap of her velvet skirt a moment and then, irritated with herself, she reached for her wineglass from the side table. She put it to her lips and took a deep swallow. She was being silly. He was simply being kind and playful because Alex had left her here all alone.

“Why don’t you explain it to me then?” Peter said.

“I was called to do this work. I believe that with all my heart, but my grandmother would never have approved of me meddling in this kind of thing. Too much like politics for her taste. She felt ladies should leave politics to men. She said most women were silly-minded chits too fond of a handsome face to think clearly enough to not be swayed.”

“A wise lady was your grandmother.” His tone sounded so serious.

She dropped her mouth open and heated words rushed to the fore but then she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Yes, a wise lady,” she said coolly. “She warned me about gentlemen.”

“What did she say about gentlemen?”

“She said they were arrogant fools and a woman would be better off in a nunnery than tied to one of them.”

His jaw dropped this time. Then he chuckled softly. “Had a kind word for everyone, did she?”

Bittersweet emotion tightened her throat. She had loved her grandmother but hadn’t found her emotionally manipulative nature or smothering protectiveness easy to live with. She nodded slowly. “Yes, she sure did. I suppose it had something to do with her papa. He was a wealthy plantation owner and she ran away with my grandfather, a schoolmaster. She said he was the most intelligent man alive and she would settle for none other.”

What a pity for everyone involved that her grandmother hadn’t been able to reconcile herself to a mere schoolmaster’s earnings. After Emily’s grandfather had died and they’d lost his wages, her grandmother’s taste for luxury had quickly run through their savings and landed them in a lower sort of boarding house.

How far she’d come, sitting here now with a gentleman from one of New York City’s better sort of families.

He turned his attention on her book again, appearing to paying particular consideration to the illustrations. “You draw very well—excellently, in fact.”

Did he mean that or was it more kind flirtation?

“My grandfather taught me to draw likenesses,” she added, unsure if it was the wine or Peter’s flirting that had her tongue so loose tonight. God, she was being tedious. He was going to complain to Alex that she was a bore and he ought not marry her.

“How did you manage the sketches if you only corresponded with the relatives?”

Always eager for the chance to discuss her work, she couldn’t resist chattering on, even though she feared she was really boring him. She turned her body and leaned closer to him. “They described the men to me in the letters and I used my intuition to fill in the rest. Who knows how accurate the results are? But it does put faces to the issue.”

He turned his attention back to her book and flipped through the pages again. “Indeed it does. There’s so much emotion in these faces—they are so life-like only the hardest heart could fail to be moved.”

“So my deception was worth it, correct? Not such a huge sin, do you think?”

He laughed softly and closed the book. “What I think is that my cousin will have his hands full with you.” He handed the book back to her with a wry look.

Uncertainty fluttered in her stomach. She laughed nervously. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet but I am sure it is no less than he deserves.”

At the sound of boots on the floorboards, she glanced up. Alex entered the parlour. He looked quite splendid in well-tailored evening clothes, a dark blue jacket and buff-coloured breeches that clung to and accentuated his masculine frame.

His gaze met hers, blue-grey and piercing. Her heart flipped over and energy swept through her. She wanted to jump to her feet and run to him but inhaled deeply and suppressed the urge. Right now, she’d rather die than make such a cake of herself over the likes of him. She tore her gaze from his and glanced down at her hands, all the while keeping an eye on him by looking up through her lashes. At his slight frown, satisfaction stabbed her. At least she still had the ability to affect him.

She wasn’t exactly on close terms with him lately. For the past two weeks since that night at his rented rooms, when he’d read that mysterious letter, he’d been distant and pensive and had somehow managed to be gone all the time. When home, he’d all but ignored her, treating her with polite yet distracted distance. Something was definitely weighing on his mind and nerves. He had not chosen to share it with her and perhaps that hurt more than his distance.

Tonight, he’d come from yet another political supper party, the debate over the issue of the National Navy and the British Orders in Council getting hotter and hotter. Nicolo Calabria came in behind him. He was handsome with his light olive skin, sapphire eyes and shining gold hair. Emily hated him. She knew it was wrong but she couldn’t help it. Now, as always, his eyes seemed to laugh at her. She blamed him for Alex’s current emotional distance, even though she had no rational basis for it.

But Alex was coming to her now, his expression open, his eyes glowing with tenderness. On the other side from where Peter sat, Alex sat beside her on the settee. Very close. Alex’s familiar scent of sandalwood and clean masculinity wafted over her. The warmth of his thigh burned into hers and her breath quickened. They had not shared themselves since that last time at his boarding house rooms. A day without being close to him would have seemed unbearable—two weeks had been sheer torture.

Alex took her hand and the touch of his bare skin to hers tingled like lightning sparking up her arm. Her nipples went taut and yearning spread into her loins. Two weeks…

“Peter, what are you doing here so late?” Alex asked.

“With your aunt gone, Cornelia sent me to see what mischief you were up to with your lovely little artist. My sister would have been happy to let Emily stay at our house until your aunt’s return. I am supposed to persuade her to come home with me.” Peter frowned. “Honestly, aren’t you afraid of talk?”

Alex waved his cousin off. “Seeing as we shall be wed shortly—”

Emily cut him a glance. “How shortly?”

Alex gave her a small smile, oozing charm. “Very shortly.”

His charm did nothing to melt her cold resentment over this matter. Having gained her acquiescence to his proposal now the blasted man would not commit. She couldn’t help glaring at him.

Nicolo laughed softly. “Ah, young love.”

Angry heat flared over her face but she’d never reveal herself to Nicolo. He was always making barbed comments. She forced a smile and pointedly studied her nails. Nicolo was such a loose fish. What did Alex see in him? They were such close friends.

“Wed soon or not, someone ought to play chaperone.” Peter’s voice rang with humour.

“And you’ve appointed yourself chaperone?” Alex’s voice was amused.

“Aye.” He leant back against the settee. “I’m hungry, Alex. How about a late supper?”

“Mrs Webbs and her girls have the night off.”

A wry grin cracked Peter’s face. He shook his head. “Oh, Alex, tell me you didn’t. Cornelia is going to have an apoplexy.”

“It’s only a few days.”

“You have spent too much time away from the civilised world. Even a Dalton is not so wealthy or highly placed that they needn’t worry about gossip.”

Alex grew silent a moment. Emily looked up at him. But he wasn’t looking at her. “I am afraid there’s nothing but cold chicken, bread and apple pie for supper.”

Peter frowned. “Don’t change the subject. You know it—I’m right.”

“Quit being such a hen, cousin.” Alex smiled one of his most disarming, friendly smiles.

The power of it gave Emily chills.

“Do what you want. You will anyway.” Peter crossed his arms and leaned into the corner between the satin back cushion and polished walnut arm of the settee.

Alex turned to Nicolo. “Are you staying?”

Nicolo’s eyes flickered to Emily, twin flames of disdainful blue. “No, I am expected elsewhere for supper,” he said in his accented tones.