Page 108 of The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Caroline gazed up at the plump amorini romping on the plasterwork ceiling. “We should have known that Jane had something devilish in mind when she balked at the fitting for her trousseau. She never wanted to entice Nigel.”

“How could we have known?” Miranda drew a bride holding a bouquet of weeds and droopy roses in her sketchbook. “Would you ever consider sabotaging your own wedding?”

“I’m going to elope,” Caroline said. “If I ever meet the man of my dreams, I shall carry him right to the altar myself.”

Chapter 27

Patience was one of the few virtues Grayson had cultivated between his vices. If Jane desired courtship, he would oblige her. In their game of love, he had no doubt who would emerge triumphant. She might tease him to death, but in the end the male would dominate. He would gladly wear his heart on his sleeve to prove to her and the world that he adored her.

Yet if he was confident of his ability to win, he did not take much else in life for granted. Jane had challenged him emotionally and intellectually from the moment they’d met. Until they stood before man and God at the altar, he would continue to pursue her. Even if only to prove his devotion. To prove that while seducing her had been sublimely pleasurable, it had not been his sole aim.

He was utterly serious when he told her he needed her help to handle his family. What a wildling bunch they had become. He sensed in Chloe a revolution brewing, a deep unhappiness that, if not thwarted, could only lead to disaster. Heath also appeared to be headed for some enigmatic, undoubtedly dangerous course.

The worry did not end there. His prim and proper sister Emma had lost her husband, and, as a widowed viscountess, stood in a vulnerable position in society, even if she refused to see herself that way. Drake and Devon had always been restless souls, drawn to trouble time and time again. And brave young Brandon would never be coming home to bedevil them again.

The Boscastle line needed Jane’s strength and cunning to survive the perils of another century. Grayson needed her for his own survival.

He called formally that same evening at her house to escort her family to the opera. The two of them stood alone together in the drawing room for several minutes. Grayson, in elegant black evening wear and gleaming boots. Jane, in an off-white satin gown draped across her soft shoulders like the petals of an exotic lily.

They went so well together. What other woman in the world aroused and tamed his demons at the same time?

He circled her slowly, a lion examining his prey. “That dress,” he said in a low voice, “looks a little too nice on you.”

“Do you like it? You should. It is one you picked out for me, the only selection from the mistress wardrobe that I could wear in public.”

He stopped, leaning down to rub his chin on the enticing curve of her shoulder. “I think I had a private affair in mind when I chose it. Did the drive back from Brighton give that devious mind of yours a rest?”

“Indeed, my lord. And your devious mind?”

He pressed a kiss on the arch of her throat, murmuring, “Plotting all over the place to have you to myself again. I miss you, Jane.” She shivered lightly as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “How long do we have to wait?”

“We can’t get married until after Cecily is married, and one simply can’t throw a wedding together in a week.”

“Elope?”

“Except, Grayson, I do have my heart set on a proper ceremony, a wedding to remember. . . .”

“You had one as I recall.”

“Well, I thought this time I might invite the groom.”

He sighed. “When is Cecily’s wedding?”

“A fortnight from now, in Kent, at her father’s manor. Are you coming?”

“Why not? The last wedding you and I attended was certainly entertaining.”

“My family will be there,” Jane said, warming at the thought of showing her rogue off to the rest of her relations. “You can frighten my sisters with your appalling manliness.”

“I suppose I shall have to get used to these family affairs,” he said quietly. He turned her around to face him, drinking in the sight of her satin-draped curves. Was she carrying his child? Had that delicate waist begun to expand the tiniest bit? They had certainly made love enough in Brighton to make it a possibility. He ran a finger beneath her throat. He felt very protective of her all of a sudden. “I want to set a date.”

“A date for what?” she asked with a smile.

His fingertip teased the underside of her breast. He watched in satisfaction as her breathing quickened. “For baking Christmas pudding. What do you think?”

Jane lifted her face to his. “Wasn’t that part written into the clandestine contract?”

“Despot that I am, I neglected that important detail.”