Seduce Me, If You Dare by Alyssa Clarke

Chapter Six

Brushing aside that whimsical question, Oscar guided Prue out of the path of three running children.

“How many lamps do you think are here? I cannot conceive that there could be so many.”

“I read once it was over twenty thousand.”

“Astonishing! It is also ingenious of the designer to use such beautifully colored lamps. It creates a magical feel to the air.” She cast him a sideways glance. “Do you come here often, Oscar?”

“No,” he replied, “The last time was years ago with my family.”

“What made you decide to visit here tonight?”

He hesitated slightly. “A good friend, Lord Trent, mentioned attending, and I thought you would like the entertainments.”

“I am really glad you invited me.” She lifted her face to the sky, inhaling the cool night air. “What do you admire most about the pleasure gardens?”

“The cascade. An artificial waterfall that is grand and lovely. There will be a showing in the next fifteen minutes. Let’s see it together.”

His countess expressed her joy by stretching up on her toes to press a very brief peck against his jawline. So boldly improper. Yet for Oscar, the pleasure that rocked through him at that small touch of her mouth to his skin was profound. He swallowed, unable to utter a single word for precious seconds. He felt like a damn fool. How could such a simple caress render him damn near insensible?

A look at his wife showed the curve of a mysterious smile about her mouth. The shadows and the light from the garden lamps touched upon her skin almost lovingly. The lace at her throat parted, and the hollow of her neck filled with soft, inviting shadows. The arch of delicate throat moved ever so slightly as she swallowed, and the sudden urge to run his mouth along there, tease his tongue over her rapid pulse surged through him. He was so damn tempted to lean down and lick right at that spot.

Walking arm in arm, it took several minutes for them to reach the cascade. The crowd there was eager, the anticipation rife in the air. A bell sounded, and a few minutes later, the show started. A dark curtain was drawn up, showing a natural view of a bridge, a watermill, and the cascade. His wife jolted, gripping his arm when the thundering sound of a waterfall filled the air. Awe settled on her face when the sheets of tins and special effects lighting created a most extravagant display that looked like a gushing waterfall set in the backdrop of lush vegetation and landscape. At the same time, coaches, soldiers, and other figures were exhibited crossing the bridge.

“It is striking!”

“It is considered one of the most original exhibitions of the gardens.”

The show lasted for ten minutes, and his countess’s attention did not move from it once. They spent the next two hours strolling along the various walks and observing the entertainments. A soft rumble came from his wife’s stomach, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“I am mortified,” she said. However, she was laughing.

“I’ve neglected to feed you.”

She nodded sheepishly. “I am famished.”

Oscar led her to an elegant supper box, and attendants quickly laid out a repast of finely sliced ham, cold meats, salads, tarts, and dainties that pleased his wife. He watched, amused, as his countess ate several servings before she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “I have really enjoyed this night, Oscar. Thank you for bringing me.”

That odd feeling of shame burned through him once again. Hell.

“I have been busy with matters of parliament and the estates,” he murmured, taking a sip of port. “I fear I have neglected you. I would like to take you to see the opera and perhaps you might enjoy a boat ride along the Thames before the season ends.”

“I am sure I would enjoy that with you, my lord,” she said with the sweetest of smiles.

“I admit I’ve thought a few times about inviting you up from the country estate to join me in town. Then I would recall how painfully shy you are and decided to give you some more time.”

She straightened her spine. “Shy?”

“I gather I read that wrong as well.”

“You most certainly did, my lord!”

Oscar settled against his chair in a relaxed pose. “Then why did you avoid meeting my eyes whenever we spoke? You would always blush and would hurry from my presence as if I were the devil incarnate. I am intrigued by this new side of you, and I wonder at the change.”

His countess’s eyes widened, and her cheeks became pink. “I avoided looking at you directly, for I feared you would see the truth in my eyes.”

“And what truth is that?”

She looked away briefly, white teeth sinking into a plump bottom lip. When their gazes met, there was a decidedly nervous look in those lovely eyes. His wife lifted her chin. “I did not want you to see that I was uncertain…about everything. We did not court or have any tender moments before marrying. I fainted on our wedding night, and whenever I saw you, my lord, you were so frigidly polite. Though I longed to be brave and unruffled and confident, I knew that you would see my nerves and uncertainty once you looked at me. I did not want you to regret choosing me as your countess. I did not want you to see that I find you terribly handsome and wanted your…your kisses. I was afraid for you to see all that in my eyes, and I was just as petrified to see the indifference in yours.”

Every nerve he had went taut at that soft confession. “I was never indifferent to you. If you saw my eyes, Prue, your sensibilities would have been ruffled, for you would surely have glimpsed the need I battled to….”

An unreadable emotion touched her gaze for a fleeting moment. “To what?”

He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving it hopelessly disheveled. Oscar had not thought their conversation would have taken this turn. “To take you to my bed.”

Her cheeks burned a brighter red, but his wife did not look away from him but allowed her lips to curve once again into that beautiful, mysterious smile.

“Ah, consummation at last?” that bit was said with amused mockery.

“That is not what I said, countess.”

He was aware of her watching him, studying his expression and body posture. Humor lit up her eyes with a rare beauty.

“Afraid of bedding me, Oscar? I assure you I’ll not faint again.”

That sultry promise slid wickedly against his senses, stirring something raw and possessive inside Oscar. “Why did you change?” he demanded abruptly.

“Growth and self-awareness are simply a part of life,” she said pertly.

Oscar sensed there was more to it, but he would not press her. There would be ample time to unravel this lovely creature before him.

I’ll not faint again.

“I believe—”

Her words died, and an inscrutable expression settled on a face that had been enchanted all evening. With a frown, Oscar glanced up and stiffened. Lord Trent and the opera singer trying to position herself into Oscar’s bed strolled gaily towards them. Clarice’s eyes were avidly skipping over his wife before her lips flattened and her eyes narrowed.

Blast Trent to hell. How dare he approach the supper box and his wife with that woman on his arm!

Oscar lowered his napkin and stood.

“Lord Wycliffe,” Clarice greeted, releasing Trent’s arm and dipping into a deep curtsy. Surely one designed to tug his gaze to her revealing décolletage, but he was not in the least tempted.

“Lady Wycliffe,” Trent said, bowing. “I had not expected to see you here. It is a pleasure.”

“Lord Trent,” his countess murmured, dipping her head gracefully. Then she pinned her stare on the woman who had yet to take her devouring gaze from Oscar.

“Oh dear, how unexpected!” Clarice tittered. “Never say you are married?”

Her very tone implied some intimacy between her and Oscar which made her doubt he had a wife. Anger burned through Oscar, and he sent a furious glare to Trent, who had the grace to appear apologetic.

“Miss Wilson—” he began politely.

“Dearest Oscar, will you not introduce me to your darling wife?” Clarice interjected, directing a spiteful stare at his countess, who sipped her champagne with apparently unruffled serenity.

“No, I will not, Miss Wilson,” he said with unapologetic incivility. “Nor are we on familiar terms for you to refer to me by my given name. Do not let it happen again.”

Clarice flushed a violent red, and Trent grimaced. They did not linger but hurried to another box to greet their cronies. When Oscar looked back at his wife, she was drinking another glass of champagne and peering at him over the rim of the glass. Her expression was decidedly bland.

“Forgive the unpleasant intrusion,” he said.

She lowered the empty glass to the table. “It was no fault of your own,” Prue said graciously. “I would like to retire for the night.”

Oscar regretted that the light in her eyes had dimmed, and now her expression was inscrutable. He held out his arm, and she stood, taking it. An enticing waft of honeysuckles teased his senses. Had his wife always smelled this wonderful? They strolled in silence for several minutes, and for the first time since Eton, he struggled to find words.

“I have never dishonored our vows.”

Her steps faltered, and her fingers dug into his arm. “Thank you, Oscar,” she said softly.

Instead of the knot around his chest loosening, it tightened even further. He felt like a damn bounder. It was evident she had thought him an unfaithful cad for all the years he had ignored her. It also gutted him she would believe him to be a man of such rank dishonor that he would betray vows made before God and his wife.

I cannot blame my wife for not knowing me.

And at that moment, he wished their marriage would never revert to the polite and frequently cold civility of the past. Oscar couldn’t bear the thought after experiencing the warmth of her smile, the beauty of her sparkling eyes, or the pleasure of her laugh.

Several minutes later, he assisted his countess into the parked carriage. She settled on the seat opposite him with a gusty sigh. Tipping her head back against the swabs pushed her breasts out and bared the arch of her lovely neck.

For a wild moment, he wondered if his wife was trying to entice him. She had stormed into his room a few nights back and kissed him. Though it had been a brief caress, which aroused his senses, he had felt the anger in it.

After months of frustrated longing, maybe a kiss or two was what they needed to explore their compatibility as man and wife.

“Prue?”

She shifted her gaze to his. “Husband?”

“A few nights ago, you opened that connecting door between us for the first time in years.”

Her eyes suddenly sparked with a brilliant light. “That I did.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to be a wife in more than name,” she said huskily.

His heart started to beat a swift tempo. “You are certain of this desire?”

“Yes.”

He did not understand it, and while the change in her enticed him, it also perplexed Oscar. What was responsible for his wife transforming from a shy miss who stuttered and could not meet his eyes, who would faint at the thought of bedding him, to this daring creature who held his stare without blushing or lowering her lashes?

“I am a man of varied sexual experience,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and watching her from beneath lowered lashes. “Since you fainted on our wedding night, I determined I would wait until you were…more mature before I considered bedding you. Your shyness and anxiety were the reasons I stayed from your bed, countess. I realized you were simply too young for the demands I would make on your body.”

A slight frown drew her brows together, but she made no reply.

“I promise you countess…they are explicit and strenuous demands which would be shocking to a lady of your profoundly delicate sensibilities.”

“How exhilaratingly phrased,” she murmured with provocative humor glinting in her dark-green eyes.

Perhaps I need not wait anymore to consummate our marriage. The thought slid darkly tempting against his senses.

“You are very different than the girl I married.”

That girl had been unable to look at him without blushing.

“The woman before me seems as if she yearns for adventure…passion…there is nothing at all shy about her.” I like it a lot.

To Oscar’s undying shock, she lifted a foot and slowly rested it beside his right thigh, the motion dragging the skirts of her gown up to her shin. Then she lifted the other foot and placed it beside his left thigh. The fragrant scent of her surrounded him, seducing Oscar.

Bloody hell. He blinked, but the scintillating and provocative vision did not dissipate. He was perfectly positioned between her spread legs with her dress ridden up to reveal silken stockings. If he were to grip her ankles, tug them at the same time he bore down on her, his cock would fit perfectly against her quim. “Prudence—”

He had to stop speaking, for his voice was a damn croak.

“Do I seem shy and stuttering to you now, husband?”

“No.”

“Then what are you waiting for…,” she slowly blinked her thick, black lashes, “to ravish me?”