It took all night for Tess to decide that Heath Bartlett was the link to all the answers. Oh, she’d come to it quite quickly, but then had talked herself out of it a thousand times before realizing that she wasn’t just motivated by a thirst for revenge. She didn’t simply hunger to use him as he’d used her. She didn’t only want to hurt him as he’d injured her. Nay, since he was investigating her, he would know the underlying reasons for it, who had ordered it, if anyone beyond Dagwood was instigating the nasty business. He would also know who else might be under the scope of the investigation.
She should’ve known that there was more to Heath’s attempts to join the society than a stupid little bet! He was spying on her. No wonder he’d followed her into the countess’s bedroom! That whole business about worrying that she was meeting a lover had been a ruse! Oh, the actor! He should be on Drury Lane!
So this was why Heath had suddenly showed up in her life again after ten long years! Had the meeting at Andersen Hall Orphanage been a charade? Was he supposed to play on their childhood relationship? Or perhaps on her guilt for having had his father sacked? Had any word that had dripped out of his forked tongue been remotely true? She wanted to scream for the indignity of having cried her heart out to the knave! Wanted to die for having allowed him to touch her as no man had done in years!
For the thousandth time she tried to shove away the mortification eating at her like a parasite. She forced her mind to focus. Heath Bartlett was the link to all the information she needed. She just had to break him.
But how to find out everything without him knowing he was disclosing the facts? How to uncover his information without him appreciating that she knew what he was about?
The first golden rays of dawn had speared through her chamber’s curtains before the truth struck her with an intensity that had her popping straight up in the bed.
Passion. It was his weakness. It caused him to lose his head. He’d admitted so himself.
When it came to desire, he wasn’t able to keep his eyes on his goals. When it came to matters of the flesh he was as weak and malleable as a newborn pup.
She would use this against him. Twist and bind him until he knew not which way he was headed.
And as a bonus, at the end of the matter, she would ensure that everyone knew of their affair. It would be the scandal of the season. It would destroy everything he’d worked for. His precious reputation would be in tatters. The priggish Miss Penelope Whilom would reject him. Hell, if Tess did a really bang-up job, his boss might actually sack him. His prized political career would be in the jakes.
The possibilities left her positively giddy!
Wheaton would be pleased.
The thought gave her a moment’s pause. Wheaton was a cold-hearted bastard. Could she be the same? He was in a tough business. He’d been through countless challenges that she knew little about, except for his vague allusions. She supposed that it was the situations that had forced him to harden his heart, to stiffen his spine.
Well, she had no choice but to do the same.
An investigation by officers of the Crown was a serious matter. And it was personal. Heath had said that he was looking into her business affairs. Hers. And the fact that the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females was involved raised the stakes. Aunt Sophie, Janelle, Ginny, Edwina, Lucy…Too many people could get hurt.
It was up to Tess. Was she up to the challenge?
She had to be.
She had to be willing to do anything…
Anything…
Tess inhaled a shaky breath. Intellectually she understood that this meant seducing or allowing herself to be seduced by Heath. But in her belly, anxiety coiled like a viper. She was attracted to him. Annoyingly so. He was a good kisser…all right, a great kisser. Better than Quentin had ever been. And Quentin had been pretty darned good.
And those magical fingers…
Her insides stirred just thinking about them and what they’d done to her.
But still, could she pull it off? Now that she knew that he was a lying knave, could she suffer his touch without trying to scratch his eyes out?
Tilting her head, she considered the options.
Perhaps she should get foxed? That might ease her inhibitions. Shaking her head, she pushed aside the idea; she needed to keep her head clear. She could get him drunk. That was a nice possibility. Or better yet, what if Heath thought she was in her cups, but she actually wasn’t? He would ask her questions and she would know what he wished to know.
Still, it all felt so…lewd and Delilah-like. It went against the grain, and she really didn’t know if she was up to it. But she had to do something!
Rising, she called for her maid and prepared to dress. She would check on Fiona today at Andersen Hall Orphanage and see if anyone had been asking questions, and if so, about what. And while there, she would look into why Heath had been named as a trustee. An excellent start.
Was Andersen Hall involved? At this point, Tess wasn’t willing to dismiss any possibility, no matter how remote.
Being there would also give her some time to think. Knowing Heath, he would likely try to speak with her this morning. Well, she would be conveniently absent. Even though it was infantile, the idea pleased her just the same. Heath Bartlett definitely brought out the devil in her. Oh, how she’d love to stab him with a trident right in the rear!
She couldn’t imagine how she would act, what she would say when she finally faced him. All she knew was that she was mad as hops and Heath Bartlett was going to pay.
At Andersen Hall Orphanage Tess was relieved to discover that no one had been asking Fiona about her business. The young assistant had been so shocked by the notion that she would ever discuss Tess’s affairs with anyone that it had taken well over thirty minutes to soothe her injured feelings.
Tess felt exhausted by the exercise. But she’d still called on Catherine Dunn, Headmaster Dunn’s daughter-in-law and now the mistress of the orphanage. Tess was motivated by more than her admiration for Mrs. Dunn, which was quite genuine. She wanted to know how Heath had been named to the orphan-age’s board of trustees.
The visit had been positively excruciating for Tess. She realized that her emotions were raw, like the frayed edge of a rope. Catherine Dunn was so madly, passionately in love with her husband, Major Marcus Dunn, that she positively glowed. It was utterly disgusting.
Tess knew that it was all an illusion set to burst at some point or another. But Major Dunn was a good sort, Tess had to admit. And so was his wife. Tess couldn’t quite believe the sacrifices she’d made for Andersen Hall. In fact, Catherine Dunn’s example gave Tess a nice idea for a small way to help out Andersen Hall Orphanage…
A feeling of goodness lifted her sprits a bit. Maybe charity was the way to help diminish her anger? But Andersen Hall was run by the all male board of trustees, Heath Bartlett among them! The conniving, manipulative bastard!
Catherine Dunn had known nothing about Heath’s appointment to the board, leaving trustee matters to her husband.
Men. Why did they always have to be so blasted territorial? Often they acted more akin to wild dogs than civilized adults.
Her father shouldn’t have taken out his rage on his innocent daughter. Quentin shouldn’t have been a lying, cheating knave who stole her inheritance and left her penniless! He was beyond worthless—he was destructive! And that shamefully opportunistic Heath Bartlett! Grasping for more, using her to elevate his standing at the solicitor-general’s office.
Tess made her way down the path toward the stables to take her leave.
Wears scandal like a second skin! She harrumphed, then tripped on the edge of her skirts.
Righting herself, Tess recognized that she was boiling mad, and as such, a bit unstable. Catherine Dunn had seen it and had asked what was wrong. Even the not very astute Fiona had noticed and asked if Tess was having difficulty with her “monthlies.”
My monthlies! As if I don’t have any other issues to challenge me! Nay, I couldn’t possibly be dealing with a lying betrayer who rouses my passions and makes my insides melt like hot butter!
As the stables neared, Tess’s heart began to race and her palms to sweat. She wasn’t ready to face Heath, or anyone else for that matter. She needed to cool her emotions, find a way to steady her nerves. She needed to be alone, and find that inner calm that had always rescued her in times of need. For at the end of the day, she was the only one she could truly depend upon.
As if of their own volition, Tess’s footsteps turned to the left and headed into the woods. There would be no reminders of Heath or her past or her father or Quentin in the quiet forest. There would be only Mother Nature welcoming Tess into her bosom and giving her the haven that she so desperately required.
Her boots made no sound on the blanket of moss and Tess listened to the birds chirping in the trees. A raven squawked. The air was crisp, but clearly spring was trying to gain a toehold on these woods. The trees were flush with buds and a hint of pine filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of earth.
Tess scowled. Why couldn’t Heath use one of those fancy scents like otto of roses or Hungary Water that smelled anything but natural? The man vexed, even out here in the copse!
Stepping onto the gnarled roots of an old oak tree, Tess leaned back against the rough bark and inhaled a deep breath.
I need to be calm. There will always be someone to knock me down or put me out. The key is to be impervious. Not to allow anyone or anything to unsettle me. To accept and forgive myself for how I am and for whatever I’ve done, and ignore the lot of them. No one shall bother me. I am calm personified.
Slowly she sank onto the thick limb and stretched her legs out before her. Crossing her ankles, she inhaled a deep breath, then another. She closed her eyes.
Her heart slowed and her muscles relaxed. Her mind drifted, then cleared, like clouds splitting to reveal the glorious blue sky. A small smile teased her lips. She felt good. Calm. Powerful. In control once more. She wasn’t going to let anything or anyone trouble her.
“There you are!” a familiar voice called.
Tess’s eyes flew open.
Heath came storming down the path, his muscular legs eating up the distance between them like an invading army. His presence was authoritative, a commanding general leading the charge. His gray cape fluttered behind him like a standard, and his dark hair flew like ribbons.
As his black Hessians stomped up the path, he chatted idiotically, “Your butler informed me of where you’d gone and Mrs. Dunn saw you walking this way. It’s a lovely day for a stroll, don’t you think?”
Anger crashed over Tess like an avalanche. All thought of calm and steadiness evaporated like mist after a summer rain.
At the look on her face, the smile fell away from his lips. “I can see that you’re upset. And understandably so. Dagwood’s interruption was a bit…inopportune…” His smile was self-effacing, and wholly insincere.
Tess jumped to her feet, her hands clenched, her anger at full boil.
He stopped mere inches from her. Too close for propriety.
The presumptuous bastard.
“Look, I know it was…dreadfully embarrassing. And, well, Dagwood wasn’t very politic about it.” He grinned as if he’d said something funny. “Dagwood not being politic. Who’d have ever thought?”
Fury consumed her. His face swam before her in a crimson haze, and she had no thought in her head save for how much she hated him. She actually quivered from the force of the fury pounding through her. Her teeth hurt from gritting so hard and her palms stung where her nails bit into them.
His made a face. “I know it’s not amusing. I’m sorry about that. Dagwood coming in on us was dreadful actually. But it wasn’t really so terrible, now was it?” His hands grasped her arms and he smiled down at her, his eyes questioning.
Her gaze fell to the hands gripping her upper arms. She looked up and snarled.
She felt the stinging burn as her palm met his face.
His head jerked back but he didn’t let her go.
Her hand lifted for another blow, but he grabbed her wrist. “Don’t!”
Struggling against his viselike grip, she raised her other hand for another shot. He grabbed that one, too. Clenching her wrists like iron cuffs, he shook her. “Stop it!”
She growled.
Pulling her close, he hugged her, enveloping her in a prison of his arms. “Come on, Tess! Don’t!”
She was panting, hard. His words and his hard body pressed against hers reminded her of the passion they’d shared. White-hot fury flashed, and she struggled against him.
But his grip was too strong. He hugged her close, his hard muscles encasing her in a cocoon of iron.
“Tess, please!”
She looked up at him then. “I hate you.”
“Really?” he gritted out. “I’m not feeling so well disposed to you at the moment, either!”
“Release me!”
“Have you calmed down?”
“Enough.”
After a long moment, he let her go. She stepped back and punched him in the chest so hard that her fist stung.
“What the blazes is wrong with you?” he cried, his hand pressed to his chest.
“You! I can’t stand you. Or your touch!”
Reaching for her, he pulled her close. “Really?” He raised a brow.
His lips pressed down, crushing hers. It was like igniting a rocket inside her. The violence of her passion exploded, shocking her with its intensity. She quaked, overcome by the force of a primal need that only he seemed able to inspire.
Her mouth opened to his with a groan. Her body flamed. Her head swam. The red haze of her anger was gone, transformed into a scorching flame of desire that enveloped her in its fire.
His tongue delved into her mouth and she welcomed it, demanding more. Growling with the ferocity of her hunger for him, she bit his lip, tasting blood.
He jerked back, staring down at her.
She was panting, glaring at him, daring him to finish what he’d started.
His mouth claimed hers once more. There was no tenderness in his kiss, instead a stirring demand that she submit to their passion.
She clawed at the buttons of his coat, yanking them open and exposing the slit at the opening of his shirt. Closing her eyes, she licked the silky flesh, tasting salt and male.
He gasped. His body hardened to marble.
Suddenly his hands were everywhere, making haste with her coat and tossing aside her bonnet. His fingers raked her hair.
She groaned, wanting more. Much, much more.
Shoving her back up against the tree, he pushed his muscular thigh between her legs. The press of that hard muscle against her core caused a hunger to rise up from deep within her.
Her hands gripped his waist, tugging up his shirt and finding the soft skin underneath. He sucked in his breath. Her hands roamed the silky flesh, teasing, gripping, caressing, and reaching down.
She touched him. He was thick and ready.
The rocket inside her burst once more, and she was overcome by the need to have him take her.
As if he was reading her thoughts, his hands wrenched at her skirts and made short work of her underclothes. She heard rips and tears but couldn’t care. Nothing mattered but removing whatever lay between them.
His hands gripped the tender flesh of her buttocks, lifting her. Her legs spread, wrapping around his waist. Pulling her arms out from under his shirt, she coiled them around his shoulders, hanging on with her thighs and arms.
Somehow he managed to undo his breeches, for suddenly his hot, throbbing member was pressed along her inner thigh.
Eagerly she shifted, opening her innermost flesh to him.
He entered her with a deep thrust.
She hissed at the size of him, feeling stretched and full and so good, her head swam.
Closing her eyes, she was lost to the ferocity of his lovemaking. He plunged more deeply inside her, again and again, carrying her back to that place…
Her cry broke through her lips, shattering the silence.
His body shuddered. She felt his release deep inside her womb.
Spent, she clung to him, knowing that she could not stand, could not move, could not think. She was overcome, shaken to the core by their passion. And by the fact that she’d just made love to a man she despised…and it had never felt so good.