Malia Martin (14 page)

“No.”

“Oh, come. I’ll help you.” She stacked her shoes and stockings on the sand beside her and turned to kneel in front of the captain. He backed away from her.

“This is not at all appropriate, Lady Farnsworth.”

“Of course it isn’t.” She laughed lightly. “But, trust me, James, being inappropriate is actually very enjoyable sometimes.”

She hooked her hand around his ankle and pulled before he knew what she was about. James landed on his bottom in the sand with a thud.

“Ouch!”

“Oh come, it could not have hurt that much.”

She could see that he was frowning at her and holding his fingers to his mouth. “I bit my tongue,” he said around his hand.

“Ah. I am sorry.” She crawled up his body. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

He went very still, his eyes round and dark and staring into hers.

He had been pursued by many women but had easily turned down the women of the
ton
, much to their chagrin. In fact, it had been the infamous Lady Jersey who had started the rumor that he was so incredible a lover as to be called delectable. She had done it out of spite because he had refused her.

Some men might have reveled in being thought of as a pastry to the more adventurous women of the
ton
. He could not think of anything worse. Lady Jersey had sensed that and used it to her advantage. She was a cunning and viperous woman, truly.

One would think, James contemplated as he stared into the shadows at the woman now trying to bed him, that it would be easy to rebuff the innocent Lady Farnsworth with someone like Lady Jersey in his past.

If only that were so.

James took a deep, calming breath, but, unfortunately, it did not calm him at all. Lady Prudence Farnsworth was on all fours straddling his legs. Even in the darkness, he could make out the shape of her breasts pressing, as they were, against the top of her bodice.

Prudence Farnsworth was not making him feel slightly ill as most of the women in London had. In fact, James felt extremely good at the moment, too good, his heart beating strongly and the blood surging in his veins.

He ought to push away from the lady above him and leave her presence immediately, but someone really needed to teach her a little lesson about men.

James grabbed Prudence, flipped her onto her back, and straddled her hips before she had even taken another breath. “Lady Farnsworth,” he said tightly, “you show your stupidity when you tantalize a man on a dark secluded beach.” He leaned toward her. “If you were to scream, no one would hear.”

“That goes both ways, James,” she said with a small laugh, and he suddenly felt his balls held in a tight fist. He sucked in a breath. Again, James noted that Prudence Farnsworth was a very strong woman.

“I warned you before, Captain Ashley, I’m not as innocent as you would think. And I do hate being called stupid.”

He moved, and she tightened her hold. It didn’t hurt, yet. Still, it was a terribly vulnerable position to be in, and he hated it.

She let go suddenly and smoothed her hands up his chest and around his neck. “I wouldn’t hurt you, James. I just wanted to make sure you understood that I am not as innocent as you seem to believe.”

James sighed heavily and shook his head. “You are a very strange woman, Lady Farnsworth,” he heard himself say. She was rubbing off on him; usually his thoughts stayed in his mind rather than falling from his lips.

“Do call me Prudence,” she said softly, and pulled his head down to her. Her soft mouth moved beneath his, and he was lost. Even as he let himself lean against her body and rake her teeth with his tongue, a part of his mind was cringing and swearing and thumping his head in consternation.

Prudence moaned, and a more erotic sound James had never heard. It mingled with the sluice of the waves on the beach and the soft, faint whistle of the crickets. She nipped at his mouth and slid her tongue between his lips.

He was lying against the widowed wife of a baron on the sand of a beach in the middle of the night with smugglers probably making off with thousands of pounds’ worth of untaxed goods under his very nose.

And he really did not give a damn.

James slid kisses down Prudence’s jaw, traced her neck with his tongue and nibbled at the décolletage of her gown. “Oh God,” he groaned, and cupped a breast in his hand. It swelled against the fabric of Pru’s dress as he brushed his thumb over her nipple.

“Oh!” she cried, her entire body bucking beneath him.

And James rolled away, breathing hard. He lay for a long time, his face buried in the cool sand, and fought for control.

“Oh why do you have to be such a man of integrity?” Pru lamented prettily.

James could only laugh.

“What is it?” she asked, and he felt her roll against him. “Explain to me why you will not do this for me?” she whispered, her mouth against his ear.

Gooseflesh rose on his arms and he closed his eyes, fighting the temptation to turn over and take her, there, on the beach, with the grit and sand and stars overhead.

“Is it the work you must do? Is it our stations in life?” she asked hungrily. “With all that I know of you, I just don’t understand.”

James went very still. “With all that you know of me?” he asked quietly.

“Well, yes, I know, of course, about your reputation, everyone does.”

“Yes, I am sure they do. And, really, that means you know all about me, does it not?” James pushed himself up and stood. Lady Farnsworth sat staring up at him, her hair hanging in waves about her shoulders, a sleeve of her gown drooping down one arm, and her bare toes curled in the sand. She looked like a sea nymph.

He suddenly wanted her to know, wanted her to know everything. He did not want Lady Farnsworth to think he was just some party toy for London’s society women.

But it should not matter at all.

James drew in a deep breath and held his hand out toward his companion. “I shall escort you home, Lady Farnsworth.”

Lady Farnsworth folded her arms and leaned them against her knees. She squinted into the darkness toward the sea, but did not move again. “I will go home when I am ready, thank you.”

Truly, Lady Farnsworth could be quite a pain in the arse. “I thought you said you do not have tantrums.”

He was not sure, but he thought he saw the lady roll her eyes.

“I have decided that you are afraid of me,” she said.

“Yes, you are frightful, definitely. Now, Lady Farnsworth, it is not safe for you to be out here alone.”

She laughed. “I thought I had proven to you that I can take care of myself.” She cocked her head back, her lush hair falling away from her face. “Do I need to show you again, Captain?”

James tapped a finger against his thigh. How on earth had he gotten to this point in his relationship with Lady Farnsworth? He should never have kissed her, obviously. And he most definitely could not allow himself to be alone with her again.

He wanted to turn around and climb back up the cliff, but he could not leave her here. Being a gentleman meant he must not let her stay alone on this dark beach, but if he stayed, he was not sure he would be able to continue to be a gentleman. A quandary, this.

And what had happened to his contempt for all women of Lady Farnsworth’s ilk? He made a soft sound of disgust.

“Do you hate me, then, Captain?”

“I hate people born into a good name, who then take advantage of that name to control others.” Well, there it was. Why on earth did he say such things to this woman? For one thing, it was like baring his soul to a shark. For another, she would probably call his superiors in London, and he would certainly not be allowed to continue his quest for the Wolf.

Yes, he had a fortune, but he had learned quite early that all the money in the world did not make it all right for a bastard son of questionable parentage to offend a peer.

“I’m sorry,” he said shortly.

The woman turned to face the sea again, and shrugged. “Sit, Captain.”

With a sigh, he did as the lady wished.

“Tell me, James, am I right in assuming that the reputation you earned in London as a rogue is quite to the contrary?” She turned her head slightly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Or am I truly so easy to resist?”

James said nothing.

“I think I understand,” she said quietly.

How on earth could she? he thought. He didn’t truly understand himself. And yet, in the carriage on the way to Brighton, she had done this very thing, understood. She had known that she had hurt him, and seemed innately to understand why, even as James sat confounded and reeling.

He shook his head on a sigh. “I do not trust women of the peerage,” he heard himself say. God, had the devil taken over his tongue?

Surely, he was possessed. He glanced over at the nymph who sat beside him. She smiled.

Oh, God.

“Tell me about India,” she said.

James shook his head, glad she had turned the subject, but hating to think of India. “It is hot.”

“Hmmm, your words are so descriptive, Captain, I feel as if I am really there.” She paused. “Is your family still there?”

Family. James turned and looked at the path up the cliff behind them, escape. “My mother died when I was ten, Lady Farnsworth,” he answered finally.

“Oh.”

And though he said nothing else, he knew that Lady Farnsworth understood that his mother had been the end of the only family he knew about.

“Do call me Prudence.”

Right, sure, he would call her Prudence, and Clifton would have his head.

“Was there a woman in India who hurt you? Or is she from London?”

James laughed hollowly. “Do you have gypsy blood, my lady? Perhaps you have a crystal ball somewhere?”

She turned, and, instead of keeping his gaze steady on the dark waves, James looked into her eyes. Mistake. She smiled again; he could just see the curve of her full lips and the whiteness of her teeth.

He wished in that moment that Lady Farnsworth was a milkmaid, or the daughter of a baker, anyone within his reach. But she was most definitely no one he could dally with. He stood quickly. “Both, Lady Farnsworth. I have been put in my place on both continents. I will return you to Chesley House now.” He said the last with the tone he used for his crew aboard ship. And then he turned and left her.

If she followed, he would be able to behave the gentleman. If she did not, he would have to pick her up and carry her home.

He hoped to God she followed, because if he touched her again, he would probably never let go.

He was deep in thought the next day, berating himself, really, for being such a complete fool with Lady Farnsworth the night before. How on earth could he have let his guard down so completely?

“Good morning, Captain.”

James glanced up from the cobblestones to acknowledge the Widow Leland’s greeting, then continued his self-castigation. Not only had he allowed a form of intimacy to burgeon between him and the lady, but he had accomplished absolutely nothing in his goal to apprehend the Wolf.

“You’re looking well this morning, Captain, I’m so glad!”

James smiled at some woman he was rather sure he had never met.

“We were terribly worried,” the little woman of nondescript age and coloring said as they passed one another.

“I am feeling just the thing, ma’am.”

The woman stopped, and James sighed. “You do remember me, don’t you, Captain? I’m Mrs. Raithespeare. You came by with Lady Prudence to give me a basket your first day here in Gravesly.”

“Of course, Mrs. Raithespeare.”

“Good, good, I must tell you, Captain, it is quite a delight to have such a nice-looking young man walking our streets. I do hope you will be staying for a while.”

The way things had been proceeding, he was probably going to live in Gravesly, hunting the Wolf, until all his teeth fell out. “It’s a lovely town.”

Mrs. Raithespeare beamed. “It is, isn’t it? So much nicer than Rye, but you wouldn’t know it to hear any of them talk. You get any of those people by the ear, and they’ll let you know at least a hundred times over that Rye was one of the Cinque Ports. As if that has any bearing on anything today, I ask you. The Cinque Ports.” The woman made a disgusted sound with her tongue. “That is their only claim to fame, and it happened nearly a thousand years ago.”

“Oh, I would pick Gravesly over Rye any day, Mrs. Raithespeare.”

“Such a smart young man.” She shook her finger at James. “If I were just twenty years younger and unmarried …”

“I could only dream of such a thing, Mrs. Raithespeare.”

The woman giggled, patted his arm, and moved on up the street. James stood for a moment as he realized that he had just flirted. He never flirted.

With a shake of his head, he continued down the cobblestoned main street of Gravesly. He really needed to plan and be more focused on his work. If he could just take down the Wolf, he would be able to return to London in triumph. No one would dare laugh at him. His name would be said with respect. And then … James would not even put into thought the true desire of his heart.