To Be Seduced. Stephens Ann Sophia

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      STOLEN KISSES

      He closed the book with a soft smack. She raised her eyes then. Looking into their glittering silver depths, he felt himself drawn in, wanting her. He set the book down and rose to his feet, stretching slightly. “Did you enjoy that?”

      She nodded, silent.

      “I shall take you to the theater. You’ve never seen a play, have you?” He smiled faintly as she shook her head. “But first the shops. As Lady Harcourt, you’ll need fine dresses of velvet or silk. Perhaps in green to show off your hair.”

      She touched the coil at her neck. “I despise it!”

      “Why? It’s beautiful.” She stood up and backed away as he approached her. He chuckled. “’Tis a small room, you’ve nowhere to go.” Proving his point, he cornered her by the door. She averted her head, eyes closed, her breath coming in soft puffs. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.” With those soft words, his fingers gave in to the itch to unpin her burnished copper locks.

      The thick braid unfurled down her back. She did not move as he combed his fingers through it, except to lick her lips. He bent to nuzzle her soft cheek, exulting in the shudder he elicited from her. His lips moved over the silken skin, easing toward her mouth, but not taking it.

      She rewarded him by turning her head to him, opening herself to him with a soft moan. He embraced her gently as his tongue swept into her accepting mouth, twining with hers.

      As their kiss deepened and roughened, his arms tightened, holding her to him. Her body nearly matched his for height, fitting perfectly against him. He left her mouth, searching for the sensitive point on her throat as she gasped and threw her head back…

      To Be Seduced

      ANN STEPHENS

      ZEBRA BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To my three green-eyed blonds:

       Paul, Irene, and Lauren

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      I would like to express my immense gratitude to Sally Walker, Johnnye, and the rest of the NWW. All of you make me a better writer. And to Hilary and Peter, without whom this book would not be.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 1

      January 1661

      He had picked a prodigious cold day to abduct someone. Shivering in his full-length cloak, Richard, Baron Harcourt, hunched into the worn seat of the hired coach and cursed. No one heard him; he was quite alone, waiting for his accomplice to return with their prey. Much as he disliked depending on others, his face could be re cognized in Stanworth, and that would ruin his plan to flee before any villagers raised a hue and cry. His long fingers lifted the leather window covering an inch to the side and he peered out. Only a few pockets of snow were visible on the rutted road. Winter-browned fields lay abandoned just beyond it. A bitter wind robbed the day of any pretense of pleasantness even though the sun shone. One chill gust buffeted his face as he let down the window and called up to the coachman, “Walk the horses, Jem. They’ve stood long enough.”

      “Aye, sir.” He heard the slap of the reins and braced himself as the ungainly vehicle lurched into motion. Raising the glass pane into place in a vain attempt to keep draughts out, Harcourt swore again. The only thing worse than sitting in the middle of nowhere in the middle of winter in this miserable equipage was sitting in it as it jolted over a frozen road. He availed himself of a lap robe while he plotted his next move. The ancient coach and sturdy horses had taken nearly every farthing. This was his last throw. If he lost, it would cost him everything.

      Despite his grumbling, Lord Harcourt was not in the middle of nowhere. Clearly visible from the coach, an iron gate opened onto the small estate of Abberley. From the entrance, a gravel drive curved around a copse of trees toward a red brick manor house built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Only mullioned windows and a pillastered doorway embellished the plain facade.

      The oak door opened into the great hall, a room of dark wood panels and velvet hangings. Although richly appointed, it possessed a stern quality that discouraged lingering. A door to the right permitted escape to the dining room and kitchen and one opposite led into the library.

      This afternoon, the library door stood ajar just enough to allow the conversation within to be overheard in the hall if one listened carefully.

      Flattened against the wall, Bethany Dallison knew that if caught eavesdropping, she would doubtless spend the next several days locked in her room. Custom forbade young ladies to know the terms of their marriage settlements. Hardly breathing, she braced her stockinged feet to run at the first sign of being overheard.

      “I believe these terms will prove satisfactory to you, madam, while meeting my expectations of the portion due an affectionate husband.” Her suitor, Mr. Daniel Ilkston, had ostensibly earned her mother’s approval because of his sense of responsibility and excellent morals. Bethany knew the true source of her approbation was his own fortune and large property.

      She herself found neither his person nor his manner pleasing. He persisted in wearing his thinning dark hair in the chin-length Roundhead style, and even on festive occasions, he clothed his plump form in somber black. His appearance combined with his habit of looking at her as if she were a particularly tasty morsel for him to snap up reminded her of a greedy hen. Mother insisted Bethany would grow to appreciate him, but she doubted that.

      He treated her with cool condescension. They shared no interests, for she loved to read and socialize, while he made clear that his wife should occupy herself with supervising his household. And raising children. She shuddered. The thought of conjugal relations with Mr. Ilkston disheartened her greatly.

      Her mother’s voice, sharp with disapproval, floated out the door. “This clause has not been changed, sir. I believe I mentioned that providing a suitable upbringing for dear Bethany caused a great expenditure from my own income. I do feel that as her only parent for these many years, it is only proper that I should be reimbursed those costs, particularly since I shall lose my only child upon your marriage.” Bethany could imagine the scowl on her narrow face. Despite her generous jointure, Mistress Dallison intended to wring as much gold as she could from her future son-in-law.

      “Dear lady, I agree in principle that you should not suffer because of the loss of your daughter, but I must protest! This amount seems excessive for the care and feeding of one girl, no matter how excellently trained.” In his turn, Mr. Ilkston sounded downright petulant. Bethany heard the slap of papers on the massive wooden table that dominated the library as the argument continued.

      She clenched her fists in her woolen skirt. They sounded like two old dames in the market haggling over the price of a prime piglet. Except the piglet was her. Or to be exact, her money. Her father’s will settled a fine fortune on her, and with no other males in the family, she would also inherit the estate upon her mother’s death. She looked down, fighting tears. The banns were not up yet, but if they signed the settlement