Taste of Temptation Read online

  “I bet I know more about them than you’d guess.”

  “We have two young ladies in our midst—that being Miriam and Rose, and we have to think of their rep-mutations.”

  “That’s your concern?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for sharing it. Will there be anything else?”

  He picked up a quill and dipped it in the ink jar, as if eager to dive into his correspondence. He was dismissing her, but she wouldn’t go until she’d made her point.

  “As a matter of fact, there are a few other topics I’d like to address.”

  A corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he was trying not to laugh at her. “What have I done, Maud, that has you in such a dither?”

  “I’ve spoken with the oldest Miss Hamilton.”

  “Helen.”

  “Yes. I advised her that I’d assigned her a bed in the servants’ quarters, located in the attic in the east wing, but she informs me that you’ve already seen to their arrangements.”

  “I have.”

  “I also showed her the nursery, where she should be teaching Rose, but she insists the room is small and drafty, so you’ve given her permission to open up the morning salon instead.”

  “I have,” he said again.

  “She claims she may furnish it however she likes, that she may buy books and supplies, and even ... a ... pianoforte.”

  She hurled the last like an invective, but the extravagance was beyond the pale.

  She, Maud, no longer had money to purchase her clothing at Madam LaFarge’s exclusive shop, but Miss Hamilton was to have an expensive musical instrument. It was grossly unfair.

  “I want Rose and Amelia to be comfortable during their lessons,” he blithely replied.

  “And that’s another of my complaints. How can it be appropriate for Rose to be educated with a girl who is so far beneath her?”

  “As opposed to your method of not educating her at all?”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek, clear evidence that she’d made him angry, which she hadn’t meant to do.

  “I sense that I’ve aggravated you.”

  “You have.”

  “It wasn’t my intention, Captain. Please forgive me. It’s difficult for me, not being consulted. I ran this household for years; I’m aware of what’s necessary and fitting.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not used to debating every little detail. You shouldn’t count on me seeking your opinion before I act.”

  “Am I to have any authority?” She sounded pitiful, as if she was begging for leftover scraps.

  “You may implement any decision you wish—so long as it doesn’t conflict with what I want to have happen.”

  So ... there it was. He was a tyrant; he admitted it. She’d suspected the truth, but she’d danced around it, pretending nothing had changed.

  “May I know where the Hamiltons will be sleeping?” she tightly inquired.

  “I’ve had the maids air out the suites overlooking the rear garden.”

  They were the prettiest rooms in the house, saved for the most important visitors. It was shocking; it was an outrage.

  “She is a governess, Captain. A servant. She and her sisters are a trio of homeless waifs, inflicting themselves on our charity.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, Maud.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He grinned, as if he was a cat toying with a mouse.

  “Haven’t you heard?” he said. “None of this was my doing. Michael has invited them to stay—as his special guests.”

  Michael was the earl. He owned the mansion. If he’d elevated their status, there was no gainsaying him. Further argument was a waste of breath.

  Maud spun and marched out, biting her cheek so hard that, by the time she reached her boudoir, she could taste blood in her mouth.

  Chapter 6

  “WHERE the hell have you been?”

  Helen jumped a foot and whipped around.

  “Captain Odell! What are you doing in here?”

  “Waiting for you. What does it look like?”

  She was exhausted, exhilarated, grateful, confused, conflicted, and overwrought. It was nearly midnight, her lengthy day over, and she simply wanted to tumble into bed.

  Rose and Amelia were inseparable. They shared a bedchamber, and after hours of giggling, had finally fallen asleep. Helen had trudged to her room, welcoming the quiet and the dark, only to find Odell sprawled in a chair by the window.

  Apparently, he’d been there for some time. He was drinking a glass of liquor, and the decanter on the floor next to him was half empty.

  They’d been living in the mansion for an entire week, with Helen maneuvering the hazards that came with joining a new household.

  There’d been plenty of gossip and innuendo about her arrival, and a housemaid—a sullen girl named Lydia—had been particularly crass in suggesting how Helen might have earned her beautiful boudoir. Likewise, the earl’s cousin Maud Seymour had been grouchy and difficult.

  Other than those two, Helen was starting to feel as if she might eventually fit in.

  She was determined to prove that she was deserving of the captain’s generosity, so she worked very hard, getting up at the crack of dawn, enduring long hours at lessons for Rose and Amelia, then even longer ones after that shopping, visiting, and sightseeing.

  Through it all, she hadn’t run into Captain Odell a single time, and the situation had bothered her much more than it should.

  She kept expecting him to check on them in the schoolroom, or that she would be summoned to the library to discuss Rose. At the very least, she thought she might bump into him on the stairs, but he’d been conspicuously absent, as if he was deliberately avoiding her.

  She’d considered asking after him, perhaps requesting a meeting herself, but she’d had to have consulted the butler, and it would have been awkward. And really, why should she presume to have a heightened association with the captain? Why suppose that he would want to have a private chat?

  He’d rescued her from dire straits and had provided honest employment, and it was ludicrous to imagine he viewed her as anything other than a servant. Yet, to her astonishment, he’d brazenly entered her bedchamber, and she couldn’t ignore the spark of joy that rippled through her.

  She was very glad to see him—but she couldn’t let him know. Nor could she let him remain. If he was discovered, her job would be ended before it had truly begun.

  “Get out,” she insisted.

  “No.”

  “I mean it. You can’t stay.”

  She marched over to the door and clasped the knob, ready to fling it open and point out how he should quickly exit, but he didn’t move. Neither did she.

  “I asked you a question.” He stared at her till her pulse raced.

  “What was it again?”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been with Rose and Amelia, calming them sufficiently so they could sleep.”

  “It took till midnight?”

  “Young girls can be quite silly.”

  He studied her as if he didn’t believe her, as if he suspected she’d been out gallivanting, and at the notion, she almost laughed aloud.

  If she’d wanted to leave the mansion—which she didn’t—where on earth would she go? The only people she knew in London, that being her mother’s relatives, loathed her because of her father. Who else would she have sneaked off to see?

  “I’ve been working like a dog,” she declared, “simply to make you happy.”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes. I’ve become a slave, eager to do your bidding.”

  At that, he snorted. “Come here.”

  He downed his liquor and set the glass on the floor, and he held out his hand as if she should walk over and grab it.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t argue with me. Just do as I say.”

  “Tell me what you want first”

  “When you get over here, I’ll show you.”
/>   Was he planning to force himself on her? She didn’t think so. He wasn’t the type, yet he definitely had a purpose in mind, and she was certain the result would not be to her benefit.

  “Come!” he commanded, growing adamant, and she was torn as to whether she should.

  He was her employer. Did she have a right to say no? What if she did? Would he fire her? Would he toss her and her sisters out on the street?

  She knew he wouldn’t. Though he pretended otherwise, he was too kind. She’d learned his secret. He was practically brimming with chivalry, and he couldn’t conceal his gallant nature.

  She sighed with resignation. Truth be told, she didn’t want to refuse him. She was intrigued by him, more than a bit smitten and insanely attracted, and she was anxious to ascertain his intent.

  Hesitantly, she took a few steps, and the moment she neared, he pulled her onto his lap. Her bottom rested on his thigh, and she was off balance, leaned forward, her breasts pressed to his broad chest.

  The position was thrilling and shocking, but she didn’t try to move away. He was all male, and she was assailed by his masculine scents: horses, brandy, tobacco.

  “Have you been drinking, Captain?”

  “Not enough to keep me from sneaking in here.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Why are you hiding from me?”

  “Hiding? I haven’t been.”

  “I never see you anywhere.”

  “Have you been looking for me?”

  “Yes.” He seemed irked by the admission. “You’re never around when I need you.”

  “That’s because I’m always busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Taking care of Rose, you oaf. Isn’t that why you hired me?”

  “You never come to supper.”

  It was the strangest comment ever, intimating that he’d been expecting her to and that he’d been angry when she’d failed to arrive.

  “Was I supposed to join you for supper?”

  “Yes, and you will accommodate me every night from now on. You and your sister Jane. At eight o’clock. I dine with Lord Hastings, as well as Miss and Mrs. Seymour. You and Jane are to be seated at the table with them. You are guests, not servants.”

  “Technically, I am a servant. I work for you, remember?”

  “You’re a guest. Lord Hastings decreed it.”

  “But... but...”

  “What?” he asked when she couldn’t finish.

  “Mrs. Seymour informed me that we were to eat with the servants, so you’re placing me in a terrible bind.”

  He grumbled low in his throat. “You are not to listen to a word that woman says, do you hear?”

  “Yes, I hear.”

  “If you’re confused as to how you are to behave and what you’re allowed, you’re to come straight to me.”

  Compliance was easier said than done. Mrs. Seymour had ruled the house for years, but Captain Odell had burst on the scene and usurped her authority.

  The staff members liked him very much and didn’t like Maud Seymour at all. They were in general agreement that things were much better since he’d taken over, but there was no denying that he’d stirred a pot of bitter feelings in Seymour.

  Helen was no fool. It was dangerous to antagonize Mrs. Seymour, and with Odell pulling her in one direction and Mrs. Seymour pushing her in the other, Helen had to be cautious. The captain would be obeyed and Mrs. Seymour ignored. What an impossible tangle!

  She was so immersed in thoughts of Mrs. Seymour that she was completely caught off guard when Odell dipped under her chin to nuzzle her nape. He nipped at the soft skin on her neck. She yelped with surprise and struggled to escape, but he merely tightened his grip.

  “You smell good.” His warm breath tickled her ear. “Why is that?”

  “Because I wash frequently?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Yes, I imagine that’s it. You bathe. How refreshing.”

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “No, I’m quite drunk.” He assessed her, and he scowled. “I don’t like having whole days go by where I don’t speak with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. So you’ll attend me every afternoon at four, to discuss Rose’s progress.”

  “I’d like that; I think it’s very wise.”

  “You’ll meet with me in the morning, too.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Do I need a purpose, Miss Hamilton? As you mentioned, you work for me, so I don’t believe I’m required to state a reason.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Helen was awhirl with excitement. Ten, four, and eight. Every day! She’d see him constantly, and at the prospect, she was ecstatic.

  She couldn’t explain why, but with his having rescued her, she felt bound to him in a powerful fashion, as if they were meant to be together, as if they had to be friends.

  He appeared to sense it, too. They couldn’t carry on as employer and employee. He was her knight in shining armor, while she was his damsel in distress. A personal relationship had been formed. They couldn’t fight it, and it was futile for them to try.

  “So ... we’re to have regular appointments,” she mused.

  “Yes.”

  “Now that we have your business out of the way, what else did you want? Have you another matter you wish to address?”

  She was still perched on his lap, her chest crushed to his, an arm flung over his shoulder.

  He was very close—too close!—and she could see the blue of his eyes, the tiny black flecks in the irises. He’d cut himself shaving, and there was a nick from the razor under his chin. His pirate’s earring dangled from his ear, and she would have liked to flick at it with her finger.

  His intent focus was on her mouth, their lips only inches apart, and his torrid concentration was thrilling.

  “Yes,” he said, “there is a topic I’m interested in reviewing.”

  “What is it?”

  “Have you ever been kissed?”

  “Kissed?” Her shocked tone was prim and prudish.

  “Yes—kissing. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s when a man and a woman—”

  “I know what it is, Captain. I’m twenty-four years old. I’m hardly a young maiden just out of the schoolroom.”

  “Then what is your answer?”

  “I’ve been kissed dozens of times,” she lied.

  She recalled her fussy, pedantic neighbor, Wesley Smythewaite, an erstwhile suitor who’d briefly courted her when she was eighteen.

  It was back when she actually thought the world might proceed as it was supposed to, that she might eventually marry and have a home and family of her own.

  Wesley had bestowed exactly two kisses, cool, dry pecks on the lips that had been totally unsatisfactory and had guaranteed little in the way of future passion. As luck would have it, fate had intervened, so the romance was ended.

  Her father had gotten himself involved in one of his peccadilloes, and Wesley’s parents had severed all ties with Helen. Wesley hadn’t had the courage to stand up to them, to insist that he would wed Helen anyway, and Helen had learned a brutal lesson about the treachery of men.

  They were all spineless cads—although Captain Odell certainly seemed as if he might be different. She suspected that if he made a promise, wild horses couldn’t force him to renege.

  “You expect me to believe”—he looked extremely dubious—“that you’ve been kissed dozens of times?”

  “When I resided in the country,” she lied again, “I was rather popular.”

  She’d been too busy raising her sisters—with a deceased mother and an absent, unreliable father—to engage in any amour. She’d lived like a nun in a convent.

  “All the boys mooned over you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “I’m not a flirt, though,” she added, “despite how it sounds.”

  “Oh, no, not a flirt, but pardon me if I say t
hat I’m not going to request permission.”

  “Permission for what?”

  “I wish to be next in line. I can’t figure out why, and it annoys the hell out of me, but I can’t help myself.”

  In a quick motion, he stood, coming to his feet with her cradled in his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  He marched over to her bed and dumped her onto it. Before she could gather her wits to protest or squirm away, he followed her down and stretched out atop her, his body covering hers, so that she was pinned to the mattress.

  He was very large, much larger than she, so he should have been crushing her, but he didn’t feel heavy. Her torso welcomed the naughty positioning, rippling with a wicked joy that he was so intimately placed.

  She shifted under him, his legs dropping between her widened thighs. He was wedged tight, and no amount of wrestling could have dislodged him, which was fine by her.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded to know.

  “If you’ve been kissed as many times as you claim, you shouldn’t have to ask.”

  He reached behind her head, and with a flick of his wrist, he’d extracted a comb from her hair so that it was loosened enough to fall around her shoulders.

  “Captain!” she scolded. “You can’t just ... just ... take down my hair.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well ... because.”

  He grabbed a fistful and pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply of the auburn strands.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a whole week.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I love red hair on a woman. Whenever we’re alone, you’ll take it down for me. Or I’ll take it down for you.”

  He talked as if he’d be popping in constantly, and the notion was as exciting as it was dangerous.

  It was foolish to encourage him, but the imprudent part of her—the one she’d inherited from her scandalous father—would be delighted to attempt any rash behavior he suggested.

  Fortunately, she possessed traits from her cautious, sensible mother, too, so she comprehended that they were courting trouble, and she said, “Captain, you’re assuming that I’ll let you visit again.”

  “I’m not assuming. I’m merely notifying you of how it will be between us. You’re the one who drank that stupid potion. Deal with it.”