Tutoring Lady Jane Read online

  The scent of country flowers assailed his senses and he brought the lace to his face, inhaling softly. "Indeed, Jane," he murmured, tucking the lace into the pocket of his dressing gown, "you please me very much."

  She wet her lips and he followed the path of her tongue, imagining the feel of it gliding against his lips and his cock.

  "Does that mean you are still willing to go through with our agreement?"

  "I have invited you to my home, have I not?" His finger traced the edge of the velvet choker and he swore he heard the faintest of whimpers whisper pass her lips. "I am to be your tutor, and you my pupil. Is that not right?"

  She nodded and her lips parted but no words were spoken.

  "What do you know of your tutor, Jane?"

  "That you are very skilled in the art of love," she whispered, unconsciously tilting her head when his finger skimmed lower on her throat.

  "Not the art of love, Jane. Never make that mistake. I'm skilled in the art of pleasure. Sex for sex's sake. There is a difference."

  "Is there?"

  Her dark eyes challenged him and he felt his blood still at the same time his cock swelled with raging need. "Didn't you learn that lesson during your marriage with Lord Westbury, Jane? Didn't Archie teach you the difference between love and sex?"

  She shivered and he felt the faintest hint of regret that he had caused her discomfort, but it was needed. She had to know he would not love her. That sex was the mere melding of bodies--nothing more. Nothing was more dangerous to a man than a woman who confused carnal pleasure with everlasting love and devotion.

  Jane looked at him, her big brown eyes wide and curious. He had bedded many women much more beautiful than she, yet he'd never once been dangerously close to drowning in their eyes. Never before had he thought that if he did not take control immediately, he might find himself giving the upper hand to a woman. But Jane made him think these things. Only Jane had compelled him to warn her not to become emotionally involved with him. The others had never needed a warning--they had been merely vessels for his passion and his revenge. But Jane was different. Already she was something more to him, and he didn't like it.

  She licked her lips again, then stared steadily into his eyes. "Are you warning me not to fall in love with you, sir?"

  "That is exactly what I am saying, Jane. Do not confuse the delights of the bedroom for that of love. That is your first lesson in my tutelage. A man will look to bedding as a way to slake his needs. A woman looks at it as a way to bind a man to her. They are ever opposing goals, Jane, and I would have you know that what happens between us will be carnal and perhaps passionate, but never anything more meaningful than that."

  "I understand perfectly, my lord," she said. "What I want you to provide me with are the skills needed to attract the attentions of men. Men who are not afraid to love."

  Every muscle he possessed tightened. Damn the little minx, did she know what she did to him? Could she possibly have any idea that her words were like a sword through the heart? He didn't want to think of Jane with another man after giving herself to him. But damn it, he couldn't love. He didn't know how.

  "Our agreement, my lord, was for you to tutor me. Nothing more. There is no need for you to worry."

  "But you forget, my shundori, there was one more stipulation."

  "And that was?" she asked over her shoulder as he stepped behind her and trailed his fingertips up her spine to the top of her bodice.

  "Your corruption--at my hands. There is a price to pay, you see, for my tutelage. It will cost you a pretty penny, Jane, and will no doubt be more than you're willing to pay."

  "And what are you suggesting, sir, that I will not be able to learn your lessons?"

  "Oh, you'll learn them well enough," he whispered against her shoulder as his fingers worked to untie the bow that laced her outer corset. "But they shall be lessons of my choosing. Perhaps we should get started with the first one, Lady Westbury."

  "By all means."

  Her voice was assured, yet he heard the barest hint of huskiness in her words. She was becoming aroused and it made him feel reckless. As the bow came free in his hand, he hooked the tip of his finger at the top of the lacing and pulled the string from each eyehook with one continuous tug.

  "Now then," he said as the corset fell to the floor. "The first rule to keep in mind when attempting to attract the attentions of a man, is exuberance. Do you know what I mean by that, Jane?"

  "High spirits and liveliness."

  "A very nice definition that you could find in Samuel Johnson's dictionary, but I was referring to the context in regards to men."

  She shivered when his hands traced the square neckline at the back of her gown. With skill honed from too much experience, he deftly unbuttoned the pearls that held her dress secure and pushed the sleeves of her gown down along her shoulders.

  "Exuberance is everything to a man, Jane. It tells him that the woman is more than willing. It tells him that she's participating. There is nothing more potent to a man than being with a woman who throws herself into sex. Are you one of those women, Jane?" he whispered in her ear. "Or are you the sort who lies quietly beneath a man, thinking of things other than who is on top of you, praying that his penetration will not hurt and that his passion will be expedient?"

  He felt the pulse at the base of her neck quicken beneath his lips. "Never mind. I know the sort of woman you are, Jane. It shall only be a matter of time before my suspicions are confirmed." She whirled around and faced him, her eyes wide and perhaps worried. "Ssh," he said, placing a finger over her lips. "I am not through with my first lesson. When I am done, you shall have all the time you wish to ask me questions."

  Her eyes narrowed at his tone, and his breeches tightened at the sight of it. None of the women he'd been with had challenged him--not physically, and certainly not mentally, but he could see that Jane would challenge him in both areas. He liked that she would not just bow to his wishes. She would make him work hard to please her and the thought, the very idea that he would have need of every skill in his broad knowledge of sex, aroused him greatly.

  When her haughty look passed, he brought his hands around her waist and untied her corset, tossing it onto the floor. He stepped back and looked at her, her bodice hanging about her waist, her chemise, transparent and formfitting around her breasts. He could see the dark outlines of her areolas beneath the linen, and taut nipples that only became more erect the longer he stared at her.

  "The second thing to remember in attracting the attentions of a man," he said, circling the shadow of her nipple with his finger, "is confidence." His eyes met hers and he felt her breast become full against his hand. "Are you confident, Jane?"

  Her lashes partially lowered, shielding her eyes from him. "Of course."

  She was lying. He saw it in her eyes, but more importantly he felt her self-consciousness flowing from her.

  "Just how confident, Jane?"

  "Very."

  "Well, then," he drawled. "You may show me this confidence by disrobing until you are completely naked. Then, you shall come to me wearing nothing but that pretty black ribbon about your throat."

  "But...." she stuttered, suddenly clutching her bodice to her breasts.

  "That door, Jane," he motioned to the paneled door across the room. "Open it and come to me--naked, willing, confident. I want to watch you move. I want to see just how eager you are to learn and please. Unless of course, you lied to me, Jane." She stared at him but said nothing. "Did you lie, Jane?"

  "No."

  "Then the first lesson in the art of pleasing a man will commence in less than a minute. I suggest you ready yourself. It is never wise for a pupil to be tardy for her first lesson."

  * * * *

  Jane watched as Lord Grayson stalked to the door, his dressing gown swinging out behind him. Opening the paneled door, he stepped into the darkness beyond, leaving her alone in his study without a backward glance.

  Damn him! What was he about comman
ding that she disrobe and walk naked before him? She was way out of her league. He was a master of seduction, and she had very little experience with such things.

  Her fingers trembled nervously against her bodice as she paced before the fire. What was she to do? Run? Absolutely not! She would not have him think that he had scared her with his sexual mastery. But to disrobe and walk before him was unthinkable. It made her feel vulnerable and she would not allow the viscount to reduce her to such a state. She had vowed she would not leave herself open to any man. When Archie had left her, she had promised herself that she would not give any man the power to make her feel exposed and weak.

  With a helpless cry, she forced the bodice down her hips, letting the full skirts pool around her knees. Forcing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the memories of the viscount's touch, the way his eyes locked with hers--the way his jade eyes turned to turquoise when he looked deep into her eyes. He was the most beautiful man she had ever met--and the most lethal. He was dangerous to her peace of mind, her body, and her precarious self-confidence. Not only was her heart slowly being lost to him, but her newfound resolve was also in jeopardy. There was no other man within the ton she wanted to please more than the viscount. But she knew she didn't have it in her to please him. How could she with her rounded belly and plump thighs? How could he want her after having nearly every desirable woman of the ton falling at his feet? It was utter madness to think that he would be drawn to her sexually.

  And yet she still wanted him, despite the fact that the viscount had probably never looked at her before last week. From the very moment she had glimpsed him across Hyde Park during a ride with Archie, she had been taken with him. At first she was intrigued by his colorful background, enraptured by the tale of his mother and father--an odalisque in a sultan's keeping and the man who had stolen her from beneath the sultan's nose.

  Soon she was watching him during balls, spying on him at the opera. She had even at one time pretended that Archie was the viscount, lying atop her, driving into her. She had waited over a year for this night, and now she was powerless to choose.

  If she ran, if she lost what nerve she had, all would be ruined. She would never know what it was like to touch his bronzed skin, to feel his mouth on hers. But if she obeyed him, if she submitted to him and made herself vulnerable, she might never again be able to look herself in the mirror.

  As the wire hoop frame that supported her skirts slid down her waist, Jane weighed what she was about to do. Submitting to him was the only way to gain entrée into his world. She might only ever have this one chance. Was she really willing to risk losing this chance at passion, a passion that she had dreamed of--all because she was terrified to bare herself to his all too experienced gaze?

  Her hand brushed her breast as she reached for the tie of her chemise, instantly reminding her of his touch. Not even Archie had sent such need spiraling within her. Her breasts had never tightened and filled the way they had with only the viscount's beautiful eyes for stimulation. She had braved his perusal once; surely she could brave it one more time.

  Naked, she glanced about the room hoping to find a blanket in which to cover her body. There was nothing. She had only two choices left: don her clothes and flee from his house or open the door and step into the viscount's world.

  She opened the door and was greeted with a third choice. On the threshold, folded neatly, lay the viscount's dressing gown. Without thinking, Jane picked it up and slipped her arm into the sleeve. It was heavy and warm and smelled of sandalwood and soap. His scent, as well his body heat lingered in the garment and she pulled the sides tight around her, burying her face in the velvet, the gold filigree rough against her cheek.

  With renewed hope she walked down the darkened hallway to where another door was slightly ajar and the flicker of candlelight shone through the crack. It would work, she thought as she reached for the latch. He would teach her how to attract a man's attention, and then, she would use all his lessons, everything he had taught her--on him. For that was what she wanted most out of their agreement--to capture and hold the attentions of the notoriously unattainable viscount.

  Chapter Four

  Jane stepped into a garden sanctuary. As soon as she closed the door the scent of jasmine, sweet and exotic, assailed her senses. It was as if she was dreaming, leaving behind a room only to have it replaced by a Garden of Eden. Everywhere she looked palm trees towered above her. To her right were lemon trees with flowering vines growing up their trunks. The wind whispered past her through open arches and she looked up to see a glass dome, the stars twinkling brightly through the glass. It was then that she realized they were in a conservatory of some sort.

  Padding barefoot, she walked silently along the fieldstone slabs, listening to the hum of crickets and the wind as it whistled by. The sound of water trickling and flowing in the distance called to her, and she followed the sound. Guiding her path stood torches, their flames flickering and hissing in the breeze. Braziers of incense burned. The tendrils of smoke, laced with the scent of sandalwood and myrrh, filled her head, and Jane felt herself slipping into a calm that she had never before experienced.

  The water now sounded like it was rushing and tumbling over rocks and as she came to a circular clearing, she breathed in awe at the sight before her. There, in the middle of the conservatory sat a large waterfall surrounded by palm trees, their feathery fronds waving softly in the night air. Torches were positioned around the waterfall and Jane could see that the water emptied into a pond with pink and white lotus flowers floating lazily on top of the water.

  A flicker of light to her left captured her gaze and her eyes widened when she saw what lay behind the pond. A beaded tent, made of the sheerest silk hung from a frame in the ceiling. The color was dark and sensual, reminding her of a rich claret. Through the curtain she could make out numerous pillows and the flickering of more candles. She took a step closer then gasped as a dark figure emerged from behind the waterfall.

  "You are not naked, Jane."

  She took a deep breath and prayed she was taking the right path. "I am not all that confident, my lord."

  "I know."

  Her belly tightened and her pulse leapt. What would he do to her? He was looking at her in a way that made her uneasy. It was so hard to know what thoughts ran through his mind. She had never had to guess what Archie was thinking--he had never failed to tell her. But this man was different. He was secretive and mysterious and Jane didn't know how to proceed with him.

  "Come," he commanded, beckoning to her. When she was standing before him, he tipped her face up to meet his eyes. "That is the second lie you've told me, Jane."

  "I only wanted to please you." And it was the truth.

  "Why did you have to lie, when I already told you that you pleased me?"

  She shrugged and hugged the edges of the gown closer to her. "I did not want you to have cause to end our association before it had begun."

  He traced her bottom lip with his finger and goose bumps erupted on her flesh. "I shall not be the one to end it, Jane. Unless of course, you lie to me again."

  She nodded, understanding that he meant what he said. From now on he was in complete control and she was at his mercy.

  He took her by the hand and guided her to the tent. "Tell me why a woman such as yourself is not confident. You have the world at your feet. You're rich--titled. What is it that makes you think less of yourself?"

  "I do not know...." She trailed off as she stepped into the tent and came face to face with what a harem really must look like. She watched as the viscount sat on a thick cushion, then stretched out his long length against the jewel-colored pillows behind him.

  Motioning for her to join him, she sat on the cushion next to his thigh. He reached for her hand, drawing her near him and positioning her to lie beside him. Brushing her hair from her face, he peered into her eyes. "You never knew the pleasures of the marriage bed with your husband, did you, Jane? He never caressed you and sung you
r praises. He never told you that your skin reminded him of fresh cream, or that your eyes are wonderfully large and dark. A man could drown in eyes like yours, my shundori."

  "Tell me what that means," she asked, delighting in the exoticness of the word on his lips. There was something so powerfully mesmerizing in his voice. The foreign language combined with the way he said her name was making her melt in a way she had never experienced before.

  "It means my beauty. That is what you are in Bengali."

  Her breath caught, and when she shook her head in protest, he stopped her with the barest touch of his finger. "Exuberance and confidence are the first two things to draw a man's eye, Jane. A woman thinks she must be beautiful in order to attract a man, but that is not so. Beauty is different for every man. What one finds attractive, another finds only pleasing. There are many facets of beauty, Jane, remember that. Now then," he murmured, smoothing her hair back over her shoulder and allowing his finger to graze her chin. "Tell me why you are unable to bare yourself to me." She stiffened as his finger edged the gown away from her throat. "Tell me why you would not allow me to view your nakedness?"

  "I am ... fuller in places than I wish to be."

  "Is that so?" he asked, slipping his hand inside the velvet so that his warm palm rested on her waist. "I am sorry that you denied me the pleasure of seeing you. Unlike your husband, I prefer the attentions of women, not girls. I like voluptuousness in women." She squirmed beneath his touch as his hand slid up her side to graze the underside of her breast. "Tell me, Jane, are your breasts full and large?"

  She nodded and closed her eyes. Lord, he was wicked and if he didn't soon touch her, she would die of sheer torture waiting for the feel of his hands on her.

  "Allow me to judge." Nipping her lips he soothed them with flicks of his tongue. Then he parted the velvet, letting the one side slide over her hip and buttock exposing the left side of her body to his gaze. "They are indeed," he said, gazing up at her from beneath his sable lashes. "From what I can tell, Jane, you are not a bit too full. You are exactly what I wish you to be."