Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

E lwood was pleased with the scene he'd carefully prepared. It was ideal for seduction, and with the enticing figure Miss Newton presented in that dress, which hinted at those luscious curves and made him imagine that she were lying in a field of wildflowers, ripe for the plucking, he was eager for the day to begin.

However, all of that changed when he saw the resilience on her face. He admired her determination to push him away, but at the same time he despised it. No other woman had dared to resist him, nor had they wanted to do so. Dare he say it pricked his pride?

Clearing his throat, he straightened and waved a hand at the covered silver dishes in front of him. "I thought we might dine a bit more casually."

She chose a seat diagonally from him and sat so stiff and primly that he wanted to smile. "Did you prepare this yourself?"

He laughed. "Hardly. I told you that there are servants about if I am in need of them."

"And when you're not?"

He lifted the lid to find a vine of grapes. He grinned, and then popped one into his mouth. There was a small vineyard on the property that was carefully cultivated. Although it didn't produce much wine, the harvest was mature at this time of year. He'd nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed them. "They are carefully absent until I do." He allowed the second grape to hover near his mouth as he added, "Are you scared to be alone with me, Miss Newton?"

"With Prospero?" she asked with a glint of mischief in her gaze. "I should think not."

He smirked as he gently bit into the fruit and juice exploded in his mouth. He licked his lips, savoring every bit of it, and then swallowed. He picked up the plate and handed it to her. "You shouldn't miss out on such a delight. These are grown on the property." She eyed the offering warily, until it prompted him to say, "There is nothing to fear from such an innocent treat."

"It's not that." She hesitated as she plucked one from the vine. "I've never had a grape before."

He stilled, because he had to have heard wrong. Every single lady of his acquaintance had enjoyed grapes, as well as the elusive pineapple. Since this woman claimed to have not, either she had led a rather sheltered life, or she wasn't actually gentry. He found the latter difficult to believe, since she appeared to be well versed in conversation and manners.

He was considering the prospect when she slipped the grape between her teeth. All of a sudden, Elwood's attention was riveted on her reaction. Her eyes closed and as she chewed, he was quite certain he'd never beheld anything more erotic. The most practiced courtesans couldn't invoke that sort of innocent demeanor, no matter how hard they tried. It was the unreserved reaction that could only belong to someone who was being introduced to something new.

His cock immediately responded, because again, he had the feeling she was new to most everything and he would love to teach her the most carnal actions he could contrive.

When she opened her eyes and that enticing pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, Elwood was quite certain he was going to lose his self-control. But he managed to shift his gaze away long enough where his cock might cease its persistent throb.

"It was wonderful. Much better than I imagined. Might I have another?"

He wasn't sure he could withstand it, but he practically shoved the plate into her hands. "Have as many as you want," he returned gruffly, and then he did his best to busy himself with the rest of the cook's generous offerings, as opposed to engaging in any further torture.

Ham, eggs, bread, cheese, scones—they were just a few of the delights that were laid out before him. It was a perfect selection to tempt any pallet, and what he had requested since he didn't know what sort of food Miss Newton preferred. Some of the ladies of his acquaintance had been known to be rather particular, but to his surprise, she took a little of everything that he offered and appeared to appreciate it all.

He wished it might be so easy to convince her to accept him as it was to tempt her with what was on the tray, but he told himself to be patient. It wasn't as though he hadn't faced a challenge before. The first day had yet to fully pass. He would have to earn her trust first, and then it should be easy enough to gain more.

"Shall I pour the tea?" she asked.

"Cream, but no sugar," he replied.

He watched as she carefully picked up the teapot and poured. She served him first, and then she selected sugar but no cream for her own cup. He wondered if she always preferred her tea thus, or if she just wanted to ensure she was different from him.

Silence enveloped them as they ate. It was as if they had embarked on a mutual agreement. But as soon as Miss Newton sat down her plate, she wiped her mouth with her serviette and looked at him, and he knew the inquisition was about to begin.

"Shall we start the interview, my lord?"

The corners of his mouth lifted, because he had to admit she didn't waste any time reminding him of her sole purpose for being there. He decided there wasn't any harm in humoring her. For the moment, at least. Folding his hands over his midsection, he said, "Why not?"

With a nod of her head, she reached into a pocket of the skirts and withdrew a sheet of paper. He was curious at first, but when he recognized the snippet from the paper, he wanted to groan. "Let me start by asking you this, my lord. If you are innocent of any wrongdoing, why shouldn't you want to clear your name as one of these notorious rakes?"

He lifted a curious brow. "Who referred to it as wrongdoing? I didn't see that in the article."

She blinked. "How might you claim any different? It is mentioned that you went to a ball and engaged in certain—" She broke off and colored slightly. "—activities."

When she paused, he prompted, "And?" He shook his head. "Surely you aren't referring to those activities as wrongdoing?"

"You wouldn't?" she gasped. "There is mention of a… whip." She nearly whispered the word, as if to speak it aloud would condemn her as well. "It sounds like some sort of torture to me."

He smiled tolerantly. "I can assure you that everything that happened was consensual."

She seemed unable to comprehend this. "But?—"

He leaned forward. "My dear, Miss Newton, as a lady who is untried, there are some things that your virginal mind cannot yet understand, but I can assure you that such implements of torture, as you call them, can be quite pleasurable for everyone involved."

Meliah tried to tell herself that she was horrified by the prospect of such ill treatment when it came to the bedchamber, but in truth, she was oddly curious. When Meliah was old enough to dare to ask her mother about what transpired between married couples behind closed doors, she had been very vague. The only explanation she offered was that men had certain needs that were required to be met and their wives were there to fulfill them. And that was it.

Meliah was given to understand it was a one-sided affair, and that the woman never enjoyed the act. Now, if the earl could be believed, he made it sound as though both parties were involved quite energetically. And with certain… accoutrements.

If anyone might tell her the truth on this particular subject, it would be Lord Belmont. "Are you telling me that satisfaction can be achieved this way? For a woman as well as a man?"

He eyed her steadily. "Indeed, Miss Newton. You are correct. There is a fine line between sexual gratification and a certain degree of pain. It tends to heighten the sensations within."

"How?" The word emerged before she could stop it. Immediately, her face warmed with embarrassment, but he didn't mock her. Instead, he was rather forthcoming, as if eager to reply. Although this wasn't the interview that she'd had in mind, it was certainly going far to prove that he was the unrepentant rake that "The Belle" had mentioned.

"Emotions are running high," he began, and Meliah found she was riveted on every word he spoke. "There are times when the pleasure almost becomes too much to bear. It's as if you are on a spinning wheel and it is turning you in several different directions. When a touch of pain is introduced, it magnifies all those feelings, until you are in a state of pure euphoria."

Meliah didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until she released the air in her lungs in a sharp exhale. "Oh. I…see."

His eyes glittered. "Any time you should like a demonstration, I would be willing to engage my services."

She swallowed, but there was a slight swirl of heat that touched her midsection and traveled down lower, so that she wanted to press her thighs together to ease the ache. "I'm sure you would," she murmured. She straightened. "I think that is enough for now. I shall take a walk about the grounds, if you don't mind."

"Of course." Those blue eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and mischief. "Fresh cool air is probably a good idea." He rose to his feet when she did. "I believe I shall join you."

Lord Belmont held out his arm and while Meliah was reluctant to accept, she didn't want to be rude when she still needed more information to write her article, so she slipped her arm through his. The cords of his muscular arms were evident through his shirt and she wished that he were wearing a jacket, so it wouldn't be so noticeable. When they stepped outside and found the day to be rather mild for the season, she wondered if it was actually the temperature, or the earl's heat that kept her warm.

Her body was still humming with interest over what Lord Belmont had told her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to entice him, as she'd originally planned. He might decide to call her bluff. With visions of whips rushing through her mind, she wasn't sure she was prepared to take things that far. As he'd stated correctly, she was a virgin, and such thoughts weren't just scandalous, they were foreign. Perhaps if she knew what the act of lovemaking was like, it might not be so shocking, but she wasn't sure such knowledge would still her pounding heart, only increase it.

Desperate to change the subject to more neutral ground, she asked, "You said earlier that your parents had a marriage based on love, but that you found it distasteful. Might I ask why when you seem to like… activities born of the same?"

He glanced at her and shook his head. "Lust is not love. The foolishness that poets spout, and the connection that my parents share is far removed from my preferences. I enjoy making love, but not being in love. It is wise not to confuse the two."

She frowned, because while the difference made perfect sense, his aversion to the kind of love that seemed to last, that her parents also shared, did not. "Why shouldn't you wish to give your heart over to the single person that fills you with joy? I should think most everyone aspires to find that sort of lasting bond."

"Prison does not appeal to me, and that is what I consider that sort of entanglement." He gave a mock shudder. At least, she assumed it was fabricated. Perhaps it was another truth. "If something dreadful should happen to my father, my mother would surely be destroyed by her grief, and the same if something were to happen to my mother for my sire. I don't want to give anyone that sort of power. What good is love if it can be stripped away, leaving nothing more than a shell of a wasted experience?"

Meliah considered his words for a time. "I would be inclined to agree, but wouldn't it be worse never to have known such a powerful passion?"

He paused their stroll and stood directly in front of her, so close that the light behind him was blocked by his towering height as he looked down into her eyes. "Passion comes in many guises. You will find love is unnecessary to engage the passion of one's body."

When he reached out and cupped her cheek, Meliah stilled. She was certain that he was about to kiss her. That would certainly prove that he was a rake of the first order, but when his lips touched hers, there was no demanding pressure. Instead, it was the lightest of kisses, but it made her head spin nonetheless.

She had to fight the urge to lift up on her tiptoes and deepen the embrace. She had expected a bit more from him, but it caused her toes to curl in her slippers, so perhaps it was perfectly right.

It wasn't until he straightened and dropped his hand that she found fault with his actions—and his words. "You have a lot to learn, my dear, Meliah."

Stung, she was sure that she'd heard wrong. Was he truly insulting her innocence? "I search only for the real Lord Belmont, my lord," she snapped. "That is all I need to know."

She spun on her heel, intending to leave him where he stood, but he grasped her arm and pulled her back against his chest. "In that regard, I implore you to join me in my chamber tonight and judge my actions for yourself. You might find yourself pleasantly surprised."

Meliah told herself that she ought to be furious at the blatant suggestion in his tone. Instead, she found her body fluttering with the awareness that was coursing between them. However, since she couldn't let such a slight stand, she lifted her chin. "You go too far, my lord. Your crass speech tells me that I have enough information to prove you are the rake that everyone believes you are. I shall have to search for inspiration elsewhere. Good day."

Meliah removed herself from his grasp and returned to the house. She nearly stomped up the stairs and had to refrain from slamming the bedchamber door behind her as she removed the muslin dress. She heard a rip at one point, but she was too blinded by a mixture of frustration to care. Surely, he couldn't believe that such callous behavior worked to charm anyone. If that was what women of his acquaintance found appealing, she was grateful she wasn't part of the nobility.

She slipped the pink dress that she'd arrived in over her head. Although it was slightly wrinkled, she did her best to smooth the material as she headed back downstairs.

She'd had enough of Lord Belmont in the past hour to last her a lifetime. She was going back to London by whatever means necessary. To stay was courting disaster with such a man.