“No, I don’t believe I’ll ravish you,” he said. “Tonight,” he added.
She nuzzled against him, her lush breasts pressing into his chest. Damn, she was killing him. “Are you certain? Because I can assure you I’d be most willing. You wouldn’t even have to seduce me.” She released a throaty moan, which reached deep inside him and tore at his resolve. “You smell nice.”
“Esme, you are a temptress.”
“I hope I remember you said that in the morning,” she murmured as he carried her upstairs to her room and placed her in her bed.
She was so tempting, she was distracting him from what he’d planned to do—infiltrate Solomon’s. Yet one kiss from Esme, and he’d forgotten all about discovering the identities of the men who had been unable to save his father.
Quickly he pulled off her shoes. He didn’t bother with her stockings, as he wasn’t certain he could trust himself to touch her bare skin. The memory of how smooth and silky it was had haunted him since he’d rescued her. They needed to get those bracelets off, and fast.
He pulled the covers over her, and she burrowed deep beneath them, curling up on her right side and falling instantly back to sleep. Then, because he simply couldn’t resist—or didn’t want to—he pressed a kiss to her lips.
Perhaps tomorrow he’d regret not taking advantage of the situation. But toying with Esme’s emotions was something he could not afford to do. She might be her own woman, as she liked to say, but she was still a lady and still had a reputation at stake. As much as he’d like to bed her, to taste the full extent of her passion, to teach her the myriad ways of lovemaking, he couldn’t take the risk.
Some seductress she was.
Esme eyed her reflection suspiciously. She had a vague memory of being carried to bed, but she was fairly certain that, despite being alone with a man in her bedchamber, her chastity remained intact. It seemed highly unlikely she could have been ravished yet still fully clothed in the morning.
She gave a sheepish laugh when her maid stepped in. “It appears I fell asleep in my clothes last night.”
Further proof that while this bracelet might be causing her to be filled with lustful desires, it did nothing to enhance her appeal to the opposite sex. Annette bobbed her head and began unbuttoning Esme’s dress.
Fielding had kissed her. Twice. And he’d caressed her. Her cheeks warmed with the memory as did the flesh between her thighs. And yet he remained unmoved. His behavior could mean one of two things. Either Fielding had exaggerated his warning and he truly was a gentleman, or she truly was undesirable.
“Annette, do you think I’m pretty?” Esme asked the young maid as she was fastening a fresh dress.
“Yes, ma’am. You are most fetching.” She bobbed her head obediently.
Well, that settled nothing. Annette had obviously been taught to be nothing but agreeable to her employers and their guests.
She smiled at the younger woman and watched as she spun Esme’s hair up into what looked like a complicated web of curls. Ordinarily Esme wore her hair unfashionably down, but perhaps today she should try something new and allow the girl to fix it in some alluring style.
It wouldn’t work, she argued with herself. Fielding wouldn’t notice or care how she wore her hair. Or that her gown was the exact shade of green as her eyes.
Plain and simple, he did not want her.
Funny how that thought made her chest ache with regret. Yet her desire for him was fleeting as well, wasn’t it? It would dissipate once the cursed band was removed. And last night she’d discovered mention of a diary that explained precisely how to do that. There was only one problem: She didn’t know where to find the diary.
She only hoped it would be enough to impress Fielding, to show him that she was useful.
“Do you require anything else?” Annette asked. “No, that will be all. Thank you.”
Esme pinched her cheeks, then went in search of her aunt. Much to her surprise, Thea had already gone down for breakfast. Something that hardly ever occurred at home.
When Esme entered the dining room she was met with great laughter, from both their host and her aunt. Fielding was missing from the table. Which had her wondering and worrying if he’d been the man who’d taken her to her room last night as she’d assumed. How horrifying if instead it had been the marquess who’d done the duty. But there was no way to make such an inquiry.
So she made herself a plate, then sat and waited to see if the marquess passed her a smile that hinted at a shared secret.
“I trust you slept well, Miss Worthington,” the marquess said with a broad smile.
The heat of a blush poured over her. Why couldn’t she remember what had transpired last night? “I did, thank you,” she answered politely but kept her attention on her breakfast.
“Oh, do finish your story, my lord,” Thea said, her voice laced with delight. “The marquess was telling me about the time he went looking for a map in the caves of Dover.”
Esme was glad to hear the good humor returned to Thea’s voice. It had never been Esme’s intention to worry the older woman.
“Very well,” Max said. “I was there, standing at the mouth of the cave with the renegades not far behind me, and my lantern went out.”
