Tutoring Lady Jane Read online

  He didn't want a wife. He didn't want children. Why would he bring children into the world to suffer the stigma that he had suffered? He wouldn't do it. He would not subject an innocent babe to the taunts of bastardy and savage blood.

  He had made the decision and never given it another thought. So why today, when he was watching Jane with another man did he imagine her carrying his babe? How had an image so vivid and clear invaded his waking mind?

  He knew the reason. He refused to credit it, but it lingered nevertheless. He wanted to mean something more to Jane than just a tutor in the sexual arts.

  A snort sounded from the bridal path, sending Rama's ears flickering. Before anyone could happen upon him, he motioned Rama around and headed back to the path. As he emerged from the trees he was met with a pair of lovely grey eyes.

  "Good day," Lady Catriona Hamilton smiled invitingly. "I thought I saw you there. There's no mistaking you, after all, is there?"

  Gavin stopped his mount and blinked. Lady Catriona was looking him over like a prize ham at the butchers.

  "Good day, Lady Hamilton," he nodded, removing his hat and inclining his head.

  "Your mount is extremely beautiful," she said, coyly appraising Rama. "He is a stallion?"

  "He is."

  "So broad in the shoulders," she murmured, assessing the width of him in his riding coat when she should have been gazing at his mount. "I'll wager there is no end to his stamina, is there?"

  "He is very strong," he said with lack of interest.

  Catriona smiled and moistened her lips. "Why don't you come closer and introduce your stallion to my mare? I think he's already caught the scent of her, don't you?" She flicked her eyes along him, letting her gaze rest at the juncture of his thighs. When her eyes came up to meet his, they were sparkling with amusement and desire. "Yes, I most definitely think your stallion is eager to meet my mare. I can see," she said, boldly returning her gaze to his breeches, "that you might think it just the thing to join the two of them together."

  The double entendre made him grow cold. The lady's intention could not be more blatant. And contrary to what she might think of the bulge in his breeches, it had nothing to do with her flagrant suggestion or her very lovely person. But it did have everything to do with the woman sequestered behind him, the image of her smiling and naked beneath him still flashed through his mind making him swell uncomfortably beneath his fawn colored breeches.

  "I'm afraid I must be going," he muttered, nodding once more. "Enjoy your ride, my lady."

  "I'd enjoy it much more if you were sharing it," she said huskily, reaching for Rama's reins as he nudged the horse forward.

  "I have an appointment."

  "Yes you do," she purred, before leaning forward and whispering to him. "Tonight, Lord Grayson, in my bed. I'm looking forward to finding you there."

  And then she cantered off, headed toward the bridle path to join the rest of her party. A husky laugh invaded his shock, and he realized that he only had to think of Jane in order to be aroused. Not even the notion of sleeping with Lady Hamilton, the woman acclaimed to be the most beautiful in the ton, could arouse him as thoroughly as Jane's innocent laughter.

  The devil take it, he was in a bad way. Perhaps he should take her ladyship up on her offer. Maybe a night spent between Catriona's thighs would rid him of the niggling anger he felt at seeing Jane with another. But when he closed his eyes and envisioned a night spent in dissipation, the only person he saw was Jane, her plump thighs spread for him, her arms welcoming him, her smile warming him.

  Good God, what had the chit done to him?

  Chapter Seven

  Jane steadied her hand, careful not get a drop of red punch on her gown. Her hand was shaking so severely she thought she might disgrace herself by spilling the entire contents of her glass. It was all because of him, she muttered to herself.

  "Look at that," Emily Beaumont, her very good friend whispered to her. "Lady Hamilton has done everything but offer herself on a platter to the man."

  Jane took a delicate little sip of her punch and willed her stomach to stop churning. What was the matter with her? It wasn't as though she hadn't seen Gavin cavorting about ballrooms with women before. Good Lord, she'd watched him more times than she cared to admit as he danced and strolled about with his conquests. She had even spied on him with his doxies, for heavens sake. But it had never felt like this. Like having a sword slowly thrusting through her heart.

  "He is outrageously handsome, isn't he?" Emily sighed. "That hair, it's so black and shiny. Like silk, don't you think?"

  Jane nodded and took another sip. If felt like silk, too. She remembered the feel of it sliding through her hands. Recalled how he had looked with it unbound as he pleasured himself. It was unbound tonight. He had defied every polite dictate of dress and wore his hair long and untied.

  Her gaze flickered to where he stood in the corner of the room where Catriona Hamilton monopolized his attentions. He looked breathtaking dressed in gold silk breeches and a black velvet frockcoat with a restrained amount of gold threading around the cuffs and collar. While other men wore coats heavily embroidered with gold and gems in glaring shades of pink and green and lace cuffs as thick as hers, Gavin looked regal and subdued in black and a minimum of lace.

  "He really does have the most intriguing eyes, don't you think?" Emily whispered. "His gaze has a queer intensity to it, like he's undressing you and seeing what's beneath all the corsets and petticoats." Emily took a sip of her punch and licked a drop from her lips. "He's looking at you, you know."

  Jane promptly choked and began to cough. Gavin was looking at her? He hadn't even glanced her way all evening. Discreetly she tilted her head in order to see him better. Their eyes met over the pink plume perched in Lady Hamilton's white wig. His expression was implacable, unreadable. His green gaze was hooded but she felt the heat from his eyes cutting into her. Was he undressing her? Was he recalling just how unfashionable she was when she was naked in his arms?

  And then he very slowly lowered his gaze to his companion's face and smiled. The glass slipped from Jane's hand, shattering into thousands of twinkling shards beneath the candlelight. He had never smiled at her. The thought reminded her of just how undesirable she truly was.

  "Good heavens," Emily gasped, pulling her out of her shocked state. "Jane, are you well? Jane?" she asked again, shaking her arm.

  "What have I done?" she whispered, coloring profusely as people began to stare at her. "I don't know what happened," she muttered, lowering herself to her knees.

  "For heavens sake, Jane," Emily hissed, grasping her elbow. "Don't pick it up, everyone is watching."

  Was he watching? Or was his gaze still firmly fixed on the outrageously beautiful Lady Hamilton?

  "Come with me," Emily said, leading her to the refreshment table. "Act as though it slipped from your hand and you're returning for another. Smile, Jane," her friend commanded.

  Pasting a false smile on her face, Jane allowed Emily to manoeuvre her to the buffet. She darted her eyes to the corner where Gavin and Catriona had been standing seconds before, but they were no longer there. They had probably left, searching for an empty room to carry out their amorous congress. The thought made her feel ill. She wanted to be the only woman in Gavin's life, but how did she stand a chance against someone as perfect as Catriona Hamilton?

  "Here," Emily commanded, shoving a plate in her hand. "Put something to eat on this and pretend that nothing is wrong."

  She reached for a pastry, filled with rich cream and smothered in chocolate. The delightful morsel would do the trick. Food had always comforted her when Archie would not. Surely it would soothe her now. Her gloved fingers reached for the pastry at the same time a pair of dark fingers did. She pulled back and looked up into a pair of familiar jade eyes. They studied each other and Jane felt the beating of her heart in her throat.

  "Oh, let her have it," simpered Catriona who stood beside him, batting her lashes and fanning herself.
"I don't eat sweets. Look what they do to you."

  Jane felt her face flame and she automatically dropped the éclair back onto the silver platter. His lips parted, as if he were about to say something but then he closed them, remaining silent. Jane lowered her lashes and blinked away the tears that were steadily forming behind her lids. She went to snatch her hand away when Gavin reached for it and pressed her fingers in his. He kissed her hand then, a polite, solicitous kiss before slowly raising his gaze to hers. "My apologies, madam."

  She watched him closely, wondering who he was apologizing for, himself, or the ignorant doxy who stood beside him heaving her bosom and her fan.

  "Accepted, sir," she said, forcing her lips to stop trembling. She really needed to leave the room before she disgraced herself. She didn't want to cry before the ton, and she most especially didn't want to cry in front of Catriona. To let Lady Hamilton know her comment had achieved its mark would be unbearable.

  "May I?" Gavin asked, taking her plate and motioning to the platter the éclairs were on.

  "Thank you, no," she said, smoothing her hand down her bodice. "I fear I have lost my appetite. Please excuse me," she mumbled, wishing she could run from the room before he noticed her tears. "I believe I require some fresh air."

  "Would you like me to join you?" Emily whispered.

  "No, I just need a few minutes," she whispered back before heading off for the safety of the terrace.

  Once outside, she lifted her skirts and ran for the maze that loomed opposite the terrace. She would have all the privacy she craved amongst the immaculately trimmed cedars.

  Nearly blind with tears, Jane rounded the corner and found a bench. She sat on the cold marble and stared impotently up at the moon. Why did she let comments like that from Catriona hurt her? She'd heard thinly veiled insults before and had brushed them aside with ease and the knowledge that the person was an ignorant fool. But she could not brush aside Catriona's insult because it had been said in front of Gavin. And that, Jane admitted, as the tears began to roll down her cheeks was what was so painful. In some wistful part of her heart, she had pretended that Gavin's agreement to tutor her stemmed not from his rogue appetites and his desire to corrupt her as he had so straightforwardly put it, but rather he had agreed because he had desired her. Because he found her beautiful and voluptuous and because he wanted to bring her to his bed. And Catriona's ridicule had dashed away all hope that Gavin would remain ignorant of her shortcomings.

  "Jane." The warm hand on her shoulder was his. She turned away from the concern she heard. "Look at me, Jane," he said quietly as he sat down on the bench next to her. She lowered her head, fighting back more of the tears. She didn't want him to see her this way, weak spirited and self-conscious.

  "Don't do this, shundori." He hooked his finger beneath her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. His eyes softened when he saw a tear roll out and trickle down to her lip. "Jane," he said tenderly, wiping the wetness from her mouth. "Let me take the pain away."

  Then his lips were soft against hers, his fingers strong as he wrapped them around her nape and brought her closer to him, deepening the kiss. Her mouth parted on a protest, but he took it as an invitation to slide his tongue inside. His kiss was slow, thorough, drugging in its intensity. Slanting his mouth against hers, he deepened the kiss. His tongue became more forceful, and he groaned.

  She didn't want him to kiss her out of pity. She was not so lost in passion that she forgot his words seconds before his mouth descended to hers.

  "Don't run away from me, shundori," he commanded, bringing her closer so that the tops of her breasts grazed his lace cravat. She tried to pull away again, but he anchored his fingers on her neck and tilted her head so that he could penetrate her mouth deeper.

  "Don't," she whispered, wrenching free of his embrace. He held her tighter, refusing to let her move away from him.

  "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Jane. Surely you haven't forgotten that."

  And what beauty had he beheld tonight? It certainly wasn't hers. No, it all belonged to Catriona Hamilton. How would she ever compete with her stunning beauty? How could she ever rival her for Gavin's attentions?

  "You have something she will never have, Jane. You're kind and thoughtful. You bring joy to people's lives."

  "Those are qualities that you would attribute to a faithful dog," she spat, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill that hung in the maze. She had never before considered herself vain, but damn him, she wanted to be more to him than kind and loyal. "I don't need your empty attempts at consolation, my lord. Nor do I desire to be kissed out of pity."

  "I wasn't kissing you out of pity," he said, rising from the bench and pulling her up against him. "I kissed you because I wanted to."

  "You cannot possibly look at me and tell me you desire me over ... her."

  "You would not believe me even if I did."

  She knew it. She couldn't compare to Lady Hamilton, and he had tried to salvage her ego by turning the tables on her. She was a fool to have entered into this bargain with him. How could she believe that after evading him for two days that he would come to her on bended knee? That he would be on fire for her. Desire her? All this time she had thought she was being so clever. What a fanciful simpleton she was. He hadn't been yearning for her, because he'd been slaking his desires with Catriona.

  "I must leave."

  "Why, Jane?"

  "I have something to do."

  "Is it that irritating obligation again?" he asked mockingly. She ignored him and raised the hem of her skirts before stepping around him. He reached for her arm and held it firmly in his grasp. "Winterbourne is not the sort of man you want, Jane."

  She glared at his hand around her arm, then met his gaze. He was right. Winterbourne wasn't the type of man she wanted. There was only one man for her, and he couldn't be further from her reach.

  "Winterbourne is an insolent pup. The lad is so green behind the ears that he couldn't organize a piss up at a Public House."

  She steeled herself against his mockery. "He is young, but what does that matter, he's still able to give me what I need."

  "Oh?" he asked, his voice lethal. "And what would that be, Jane?"

  "He gives me something you never could."

  His eyes narrowed and his fingers bit into her arm. "Why don't you explain that enigmatic statement, Lady Westbury?"

  "Every time I'm with him, he gives a piece of himself. He is not afraid, Lord Grayson. And that is all I desire."

  Chapter Eight

  He is not afraid. He gives a piece of himself to me and that is all I desire.

  Jane would never know how her words had haunted him. He had spent the last week in agony, pondering her statement and chastising himself for not being what Jane had needed the night Catriona Hamilton slighted her.

  Bloody hell, he was an ass. Why couldn't he have comforted her and told her what she needed to hear? Why was it so bloody hard for him to let her glimpse his desire for her?

  Bloody right it was difficult. She might discover what truly lay in his heart, and that he could never allow. She could never learn that in his cold, unfeeling heart she had warmed and softened a corner and made it just her own.

  As he stalked along Oxford Street without any thought of where he was going or what he was about, Gavin allowed himself to remember the night he had held a crushed and weeping Jane in his arms. She could have no way of knowing that his kiss had been heartfelt and the only time he had ever pressed his lips to a woman's mouth without expecting anything in return. In his own awkward and inexperienced way, he had tried to comfort her. How was he to know that Jane was beyond his miniscule skill? Why hadn't he seen that kissing Jane had only ignited the rampant insecurities that coursed within her?

  If there was one thing he was an expert at, it was women and their emotions. He had learned to read the signs and retreat when he didn't like what he saw. There was not a woman out there who made him unsure of his skill. But Jane had. He h
ad missed the fact that what she had needed was more than his kiss, or his hand against her breast. She had needed words and words were admittedly something he didn't do well.

  She was right, he was afraid.

  If he told her how he felt about her, she would hold too much power over him. While he knew Jane was kind and for the most part not conniving, the fact still remained she was a woman, and women were the masters of emotional manipulation. He had never been in danger of succumbing to their wiles, but he had come damn close when he had seen tears spill from Jane's lovely eyes.

  He stopped and looked around at his surroundings, taking stock of where he was and just how far he had wandered from his home in Portman Square. He looked up and saw the black and gold sign of Thompson jewellers. He'd travelled a great distance with only his thoughts of Jane for company.

  He looked at the sparkling gems shining in the window and then he saw her, a more brilliant diamond than any displayed in the glass cases. His body tightened and his eyes hungrily scoured her from head to foot. He could not stop himself from stepping into the shop.

  "Good day, Jane."

  Jane hid the tremor that lanced through her when she heard the viscount's deep and melodious voice address her. Replacing the lapis lazuli bracelet she had been admiring back into its nest of white silk, Jane turned and smiled politely. "Good day to you, Lord Grayson. Out for a stroll?"

  "Indeed." He grinned, but it was not warm, it was rather forced and tight on his beautifully sculpted lips. "And you?"

  "Oh, just waiting for Lord Winterbourne and his sister," she said, motioning to where they stood talking with the shopkeeper. "It's their mother's birthday and they are buying her a pair of ruby earrings."

  She watched as he turned his head to study the pair, noticing how his eyes turned a frostier shade of green when his gaze raked Lord Winterbourne. "And you prefer lapis?" he said turning his gaze back to her, then picking up the bracelet and watching as the gold streak in the stones flashed in the sunlight.