Page 11 of The Secret of My Seduction
Liam still sprawled on the sofa as if he’d just woken from a nap. Bathsheba got her shift back on and jammed her arms through the straps of her stays.
“I would hardly say that. Would hedraw my cork, as you put it, if I simply called on you?”
“Why on earth would you do that?” She was honestly appalled. Her entire plan rested on one crucial point: no one must ever know. Liam had every reason to keep it secret. He and Danny were acquainted and knew each other well. Danny, for all that he was her younger brother, had a protective streak, and if he discovered this affair, he’d start growling at Liam to marry her. Bathsheba had promised it was only for research—and Liam had only agreed because it was to their mutual business benefit.
“It would make it easier for you to get away if you didn’t have to lie to your brother,” he pointed out. “I can tell him I’m escorting you to the theater.”
She snorted with laughter as she yanked the strings through the stays. Liam had undone everything. “Like a courting couple? Do you want Danny to start asking about your intentions?” She shook her head and scooped up her petticoat. He didn’t reply, and when she’d got the petticoat over her head and was fastening the short bodice again, she saw he wore a rather moody expression. “I don’t,” she hastened to assure him. “Danny’s never stopped me when I go out, but he wants to know what I do or where I go, and… I don’t like lying to him. Since I live with him, it’s hard to get away without some lying. I’d rather keep the lies as small as possible.”
He was quiet as she put on her velvet gown. “Whatever you desire,” he finally said, coming to his feet. He went out of the room for a minute, reappearing as she was struggling with the tapes. “The carriage will be ready soon,” he said, brushing aside her hands to do them up for her. He ran his fingers through her hair, sending a tiny ripple of pleasure through her. “Do you need a comb?”
“Please.”
He left the room again and Bathsheba turned around, hunting for her shoes. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace, and stopped in shock. She looked so unlike herself; her hair was usually straight as a stick, but now it rippled over her shoulders like some kind of Botticelli goddess’s. Her complexion had a healthy pink flush to it, and even her expression was different—more knowing and relaxed, perhaps, even though she still faced a long drive back home and the gauntlet that might await her there.
But surely no one could experience so much pleasure and not be affected by it. The memory of it—the tide of euphoria that had flooded her, the giddy feeling of being worshipped by Liam, the hungry cast to his face as he watched her reach the glorious peak—brought a small smile to her face. It might have begun as a business bargain, but for a moment, however fleeting, she and Liam had shared something elemental. Something deep and powerful. Something she couldn’t wait to feel again, the next time they met.
Liam came back with a comb. He’d put on a banyan over his shirt and trousers, and while she re-braided her hair, he poured himself more wine and sipped it. Without a word he handed her the pins to secure her hair, in a looser knot than before, but close enough to fool Danny.
“Why do you wear your hair so tightly?” Liam asked.
She touched it self-consciously. “To keep it out of the way.”
“Pity,” he murmured. From the hall there came a knock on the door. “That will be the carriage.”
He walked her out, helping her back into her cloak and waiting while she tied her bonnet ribbons. “Friday,” he said abruptly. “Same time.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Your dinner engagement…”
“I’ll cancel it.” He gave his usual sardonic smile. “Can’t have you forgetting what you’ve learned tonight.” He opened the door and picked up a lamp. As promised, the carriage that had brought her was waiting on the gravel drive.
“What did I learn tonight?” she whispered as they walked out, Liam holding the lamp for her.
He handed her into the carriage, but leaned through the open door. “How to lose yourself.” He closed the door in her astonished face and rapped on the side of the carriage, which started off at once.
Bathsheba settled into the seat, feeling off balance again. Perhaps she had lost herself tonight; it hadn’t been what she expected. Her little notebook was completely empty of helpful notes and ideas for her next book. But Liam was willing to cancel a dinner engagement to see her again—what did he plan for lesson two? Something fizzed inside her chest, nervous and excited at the same time. Three days had never sounded so long.
Liam threw himself into work for the next three days. The evening with Bathsheba—or lesson one, as he kept calling it in his mind—had been more affecting than expected, and he didn’t want to drive himself mad from dwelling on it. He had not expected her to be so passionate, or so willing. But then he would ask himself what hehadexpected, and there was no answer. Why wouldn’t she be willing, when she proposed the whole exercise? Why shouldn’t she be passionate, given that she knew passion was lacking in her own life, but still craved it?
But when Friday morning dawned, he washed and dressed with more care than usual and had his valet trim his hair. At the first meeting, he had wanted to learn Bathsheba—what pleased her, what aroused her, how she reacted to him. Tonight he wanted her to learn him. It had sounded like a good plan when he came up with it, but now the thought of Bathsheba stripping him, touching him, putting her mouth on him… It was enough to make him lose his line of thought entirely and send two reporters out on crossed assignments.
When he closed the office, he headed for Wharton’s Bank, where his accounts were. Unfortunately it was also where Angus was a partner, although Liam was careful never to do business directly with his brother. He saw Niall Wharton instead, handing over a list of the transfers and payments he needed made. Even though Niall was a partner as well—son of the founder, in fact—he and Angus didn’t get on that well. It was enough to assure Liam than Niall would keep his mouth closed around Angus.
But today Angus must have been idle, because as soon as Liam stepped out of Niall’s office, his brother was there. “Come to hide from all the ladies wanting to seduce you?” he asked with a smirk.
Liam paused. “Why on earth would I hide from them, rather than from you?”
Angus scowled. “Admit it, man. No such thing has ever happened to you. I’ve queried every man I know, and not a one has ever had a woman throw up her skirts for him—absent a marriage proposal, that is.”
“That,” said Liam gravely, “is a reflection of what a sorry lot of mates you have, Angus.”
“If you’re going to make up rubbish, at least make up a description.” Angus followed him through the bank, like a dog after a bone. “It cannot be that lovely blonde you met here from time to time.”
“You know it’s not.” Liam smirked at the mention of Madeline Wilde. “She’s married another man, and I assure you, I was never more than a business partner to her.” Although one might have said the same of Bathsheba, until a few days ago.
That seemed to calm Angus. “Of course not! She’s a beauty, that one, but a wee bit cold. Although, it surely couldn’t have been business alone on your mind, all those times you met her here…”
“It was,” returned Liam evenly. “Her husband owned part of my newspaper. When he died, it became hers. I meet her to disclose information about her share of theIntelligencer.” And also to collect the gossip column she wrote for him, under strictest secrecy. Liam didn’t know if that arrangement would endure much longer, as Madeline had recently married Douglas Bennet, heir to a wealthy baronet and one of the most notorious, though eligible, men in London. Liam had never tried to woo Madeline—her first husband had been more of a brother to him than Angus, so it would have been like seducing his sister-in-law—but he was not surprised at all that a rakehell like Bennet would set his sights on her. Hewassurprised that Madeline had fallen for Bennet, but one never could tell with women when it came to love. Even Bathsheba might be susceptible to it, if the right man were to take aim at her.
