Home For The Holidays Part 2

She should have known better than to fluff it off, when Thomas was being groomed, even at his young age, to take over their father's company someday. "Be that as it may, this happened all across Europe. The Winds s.h.i.+ps showed up in every port that ours did. Rather easy to conclude that it was deliberate, that they were specifically following our line to obtain our cargoes. And that's why Father sailed so far from home. He couldn't compete with The Winds, which was paying unheard-of prices, or he would have made no profit on the cargoes."

Thomas frowned. "I think this is where I don't understand. How was that other s.h.i.+pping company going to make any profit if it was paying so high for its cargoes?"

"They weren't. They apparently had money to throw away on this particular tactic. Secure the market first, then worry about getting the prices back to reasonable later. It was merely a ploy, and one that worked. Father couldn't risk sending his s.h.i.+ps back to the same merchants, only to have the same thing happen again, so in that, The Winds line won; they now have those old markets."

"Do you think Papa was able to find new markets, then?" Thomas asked.

"Certainly," she said, trying to sound confident. "And he had planned to expand to the West Indies eventually. So this may turn out to be a very good move in the end."

"Though forced on him before he was ready."

Often she wished Thomas weren't so smart and would just accept an explanation when given as most children did at his age, rather than question and point out all the flaws in her logic. "Would you like me to tell you what I think?"

"Do I have a choice?"

She smiled. "No, you don't. I think this is going to turn out very well in the end. I doubt The Winds line will survive very long, and when they go under, Father will be able to get back his old contacts, and with the new ones he gains from this trip, why, he'll probably have to buy new s.h.i.+ps to keep up with it all."

"And I think you're just hoping The Winds will go under, when they aren't likely to, if they had such deep pockets to begin with, to get away with what they did."

"Oh, I'm not talking about their finances. I'm talking about the bad will they've spread, starting out in such an unethical manner. Consider, the merchants who sold to them for the huge profits know exactly what they were up to, and anyone that underhanded can't be trusted. But many of the goods involved are perishable, in need of timely delivery-and trustworthy captains to arrive on time. If The Winds line is late in the future, the cargoes could spoil before they are even picked up, and of course, they won't be bought spoiled. Do you see what I mean?"

"So you're thinking that Father's old contacts will want to deal with him again, because he's well established and, of course, trustworthy?"

"I think they will prefer to, yes . .. and will you look what we've done. We've put Mara to sleep with all this talk of business that she doesn't find the least bit interesting. But no wonder, it's time for your nap as well."

"I'm not tired," he complained.

"I saw those eyes drooping."

"Didn't," he grumbled.

"Did, too. And besides, you need the rest whether you sleep or not. When your fever is completely gone, then we can negotiate an end to these naps."

He conceded. He loved to negotiate, which was why she'd mentioned it.

She headed to the door. But he stopped her there with one last question that she really wasn't prepared for.

"Where are we going to put the Christmas tree this year, Rissa?"

It wasn't the question, but the quaver she heard in his little voice as he asked it. It was her undoing. She hadn't even thought about spending Christmas without her father. She hadn't thought that far ahead, couldn't, because there was too much grief awaiting her down that road.

"It's too soon to think of the tree, this early in the month. But we'll have one, Tommy, even if we have to share the Baron's-"

"I don't want to share, I want to put on the decorations we've made. You did bring them with us, didn't you?"

No, she hadn't. They'd been stored in the attic and had gone with the other furnis.h.i.+ngs to wherever Lord Everett had had them taken.

"They'll be here when it's time," was the best she could offer him at the moment. "So please don't worry about it. Just get better, so you'll be able to do some of the decorating yourself."

She had to get out of there. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, which she didn't want him to see. It wasn't going to be a normal Christmas for them this year. She was afraid, so very afraid that they would be spending it without their father.

CHAPTER 5.

Larissa wasn't sure how she found the bedroom that she had been given, when she could barely se through her tears, and no one had answered any c the knocking she had done on all the doors be tween hers and Thomas's, so she'd had to peek int each room. But she finally did spot her trunl piled at the foot of the bed in one of the last tw rooms at the very end of the hall, a much long distance from her brother than she cared for.

Had she thought Thomas's room was immens compared to his old one? The one she had bee given was even grander. There was even a separate dressing room attached to it, with a large bathroom off of that, and another connecting door led to still another bedroom, which, to her shock, she realized was the baron's bedroom. She'd been put in the lady's half of the master bedroom suites. Good heavens, why? Surely a house this size had other rooms for guests, and hadn't she just pa.s.sed at least a half dozen in the hall?

This wouldn't do, must be a mistake, and she would have to tell the housekeeper-just as soon as she could manage to stop crying. To accomplish that, she sat down on the edge of the bed and gave in to all the emotions that were crowding in on her. Oddly enough, a few of those emotions were new to her and took over, drying up the well.

She had let Thomas distract her, purposely, since she knew he could. It was why she had raced to his room. But she was alone now, her thoughts once again disturbed by that strange luncheon she had shared with the baron.

She didn't know what to make of him, but he had fl.u.s.tered her beyond anything she had ever experienced. It wasn't that he was so very handsome that he had taken her breath away for a moment, when she'd had her first good look at him there in the bright hall. At least it wasn't just that.

Tall and broad of shoulder, Vincent Everett has one of those athletic-type bodies that could, if the man didn't have a meticulous tailor, make him look stuffed into the current fas.h.i.+ons. The baron's tailor was obviously of the meticulous sort though, since he cut a fine, das.h.i.+ng figure instead despite his excess in muscular limbs.

So much, the snow and his greatcoat had concealed from her last night. Black hair, not jus black, but darkest pitch, angular cheeks, a strong decisive chin, a narrow nose, features that fit to gether so perfectly, it was amazing just how hand some he was.

Still, that was only a small part of what had so rattled her. What had been most disturbing wa: those golden eyes of his that seemed to talk to hei Unfortunately, everything they said was naughty-Good G.o.d, how fanciful. He really had disturbec her beyond rational sense-yet his eyes did seen to be expressing things that weren't proper. A mere trick of the light, no doubt. Certainly not in tentional. He probably didn't even know the impression his stare gave others. And it was probably her own heightened emotions that caused her to imagine more than what was really there.

What had been merely a simple business deal for him, just another boring financial transaction, had been a calamity for her in the loss of her home. She couldn't help the antipathy she felt toward him for that. But that strong emotion was probably why everything else he made her feel was much more exaggerated.

As she'd eaten, she had had trouble swallowing each bite. There had been so much churning going on in the region of her belly that she had feared she was going to heave right back up what little food she got down. And yet he had continued to stare. Most rude. Most nerve-racking. Yet because he had done so nearly the entire time she was with him, she had to conclude it wasn't deliberate, wasn't meant to discompose her, was probably just a normal, if rude, habit. Perhaps even a business tactic he had perfected and now unconsciously used in every aspect of his life.

She had seen one merchant try such a tactic on her father once, staring pointedly at him in an effort to cause enough doubt that the price they were negotiating might be raised before verbal commitment was made. It hadn't worked on her father, but it had been amusing to watch.

It took several knocks before the sound broke through Larissa's troubled thoughts and she rose to open the door. Vincent Everett stood there. She had just been hoping that she might be able to avoid any more encounters with him while she was here, yet there he was. And standing so close that she could smell the musky scent of him, feel the heat that he radiated-or was that the heat of her own embarra.s.sment?

She thought to step back, would have run to the far side of the room if it wouldn't point out clearly to him how much he disturbed her. The little s.p.a.ce she did gain made no difference, though, because he was doing it again, staring. And such heat in those amber eyes! She had the impression of being completely stripped for his perusal. And the embarra.s.sment was the same as if she really were standing there naked before him.

"Your jewels."

She wondered briefly if he'd just said it, or was repeating himself. She wouldn't be the least surprised.

"Excuse me?"

"I was afraid you might forget." And the look he gave her now said he'd been right, she was a complete scatterbrain. "But I don't want to be indirectly responsible for causing you any more distress, which would be the case if your jewels turn up missing."

That jogged her memory. "Oh, yes, the new servants that haven't proven themselves yet. Just a moment."

She moved quickly to her three large trunks, which had been stacked neatly like a pyramid at the foot of the bed. Rummaging through the one on top didn't reveal her jewel box, but unfortunately, it was the heaviest trunk, since it contained her personal books. This would have been no problem if she had time to unpack it first. But with the baron waiting at the door, it was necessary to move it out of the way to get into the two trunks below it.

She knew very well she couldn't lift the thing herself, but she could drag it off the top with a little effort, and started to do so. But the baron's arms were suddenly on both sides of her, reaching for the handles on the ends of the trunk to move it for her.

He should have said he would do it. He should have let her move out of the way first. Her hear slammed in her chest. She was trapped between him and the trunks, could feel his chest against he back, his breath on her neck. She was going to faint, she knew it, knew it, was going to expin right there on the spot.

"Sorry," he said after an unbearably long moment, and he moved one arm to let her out of his trap.

Again her instinct was to bolt to the other side of the room, far, far away from him. She desperately wanted to, but she refused to let him thin she was afraid of him, which was what he would surely think. He was the enemy, after all. And she wasn't afraid, not really. What she felt was far more disturbing than fear.

He set the heavy upper trunk aside, probabl; could have done so with one hand, it seemed so ef fortless to him. And he didn't move back to th< doorway="" as="" would="" have="" been="" proper.="" they="" wen="" alone,="" after="" all,="" completely="" alone,="" in="" a="" b.l.o.o.d.y="" bed="" room="" no="" less,="" which="" went="" beyond="" improper,="" was="" ii="" the="" realm="" of="" compromising.="" so="" she="" dove="" into="">< next="" trunk="" as="" soon="" as="" it="" was="" cleared,="" the="" sooner="" to="" get="" him="" out="" of="" there,="" and="" thankfully="" came="" up="" with="" the="" narrow,="" wooden="" jewel="" box="" this="">

"There are only these few pieces that were my mother's, and her mother's before her," she said as she thrust the box at him. "They are valuable, but the value is more sentimental to me than anything-"

She gasped instead of finis.h.i.+ng. He had placed his hand over hers on the box to take it from her, probably because he hadn't taken his eyes off of her long enough to glance down at what he was reaching for. It was a shock to her, staring into his eyes as his warm palm slid over the top of hers, slowly, too slowly, before he finally took the box from her. She was totally undone again, blood racing so fast she really did think she would faint this time.

That touch they had just shared, which had completely shattered her composure, meant absolutely nothing to him. He glanced down as he flipped open the box to look inside at the long strand of pearls and the pearl and ruby b.u.t.terfly pin therein.

"I understand," he said tonelessly before looking up at her again with gold eyes that seemed even hotter, though it was probably just the light again that made them seem so. "And these?"

Before she realized what he was referring to, or going to do, he flicked one of the earrings she was wearing with his finger. His other fingers brushed against her neck as he did so, an accident surely, yet she felt the s.h.i.+ver clear down to her toes. She swayed as her knees started to buckle. She forgot how to breathe. In a desperate effort to regain control of her senses, she closed her eyes-and heard a groan. His? Surely not.

She focused on the subject, or what she thought was the subject. It took several long moments to dredge it up. The slamming of the lid on the jewel box helped, startled her enough to open her eyes again too.

"The earrings are always with me, either worn or resting beside my bed when I sleep."

"I'm not taking any chances where you are concerned. Give them to me."

It was a harsh order or seemed to be, since his voice had gone quite raspy. Did he mean the earrings? She wasn't sure. She couldn't think clearly again. But just in case, she yanked them off and thrust them at him, then nervously let them drop before his hand actually got close enough, too afraid that she might end up touching him again. It was too soon, though, and he wasn't quite quick enough to catch them before they fell to the floor.

Embarra.s.sed that her nervousness was so very obvious, she thoughtlessly dropped to one knee to pick the earrings up, overlooking the fact that he might do the same. They b.u.t.ted heads on the way down. She lost her balance, ended up sitting on the floor. And before she could recover on her own, he was helping her up.

This was truly her undoing. She was rendered speechless by the shock of it. Instead of offering his hand, which she most certainly wouldn't have taken-he must have known that-he lifted her up, grasping her beneath her armpits, as one would a very small child. It should have been impossible, at least from the floor. But he used his own chest for leverage. And in those brief seconds she felt his palms near the sides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, felt those b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed firmly to his chest before he let her go. Mere seconds. Yet the impressions would last her an eternity.

The pearls hadn't been picked up yet. He did that now, as well as retrieving the jewel box he'd set down while a.s.sisting her. The earrings h closed tightly in his fist rather than put them i the box. For once, he seemed as agitated as she but it was only a brief display, gone so swiftly, sh figured she must have imagined it. He did tur toward the door, however, his errand complete eager to be gone.

She wouldn't have stopped him. It was cruci; that he leave before she fell completely apart. Bt her mind simply wasn't in its proper workin order, and with the trunks still in her view, she re called . . .

"Oh! I was going to find your housekeeper . . . seem to have been put in the wrong room. I should be closer to my brother-"

She would have said more, but he interrupte her. "You were situated correctly. I usually hav guests over the holidays, and these particula guests can't be made to think they are being give: special treatment, you understand, when they ar business a.s.sociates. And rather than move you-i you are still here at that time-it was much easie to just place you here now. Is there a problem wit! the room?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Good, then think nothing of it."

He continued out the door before she could argue further. The second the door closed, she collapsed on the bed. She was visibly trembling. Her nerves were so frayed she felt like screaming. Her heart was still beating erratically. Good G.o.d, what had that man just done to her?

CHAPTER 6.

He closed himself in his study, where he could be a.s.sured of no interruptions. His staff was well trained, knew not to bother him with incidentals when his door was closed, his secretary being the sole exception. His bedroom would have guaranteed no interruptions at all, but his bedroom was too close to her.

Never in his life had he gotten drunk in the afternoon. Today just might prove an exception. No that the brandy he had poured for himself seemei to be helping. He had hoped that it would caln him, or at least get his mind off of Larissa Ascot long enough for his body to settle down. It was doing neither.

Just as he shouldn't have gone to her door last night, he most certainly shouldn't have sought her out in her room today. And the jewelry had merely been an excuse for him to do so. He had simply wanted to be in her presence again, had been so stimulated by her during lunch that he was loath to stay away from her when she was nearby.

But that had been a mistake. Seeing her with a bed near to hand had brought The Seduction to mind. It was a perfect setting, after all, to begin it. And he'd thought he could handle it, was even progressing nicely-until he got caught in it himself.

He had never felt desire like this, so completely out of his control. It still amazed him, the strength of it, and the overwhelming urge he'd had to toss her on that nearby bed and ravish her in absolute, unrestrained abandon. Not that he knew much about ravis.h.i.+ng, or doing things without restraint, for that matter. But he knew it was too soon to do anything of the sort with her.

She'd been aroused, yes-good G.o.d, how easy that had been-and likely would have offered only a token protest before giving in to that arousal. But that was not what he wanted. He wanted her complete surrender, wanted her begging for everything he planned to give her. Her ruination was going to be her own doing, merely helped along by him. His blasted conscience, which seemed to be rearing its silly head at this late stage in his life, wasn't going to be p.r.i.c.ked when he was done with her.

He had now removed any other options for her as well, leaving her no choice but to accept his hospitality. He had already arranged for her furniture to be "stolen," which was the story he would give her if she mentioned again needing to sell it. Having had anything of value moved to a separate location, he could even take her to the warehouse where it was stored if necessary, to show her that what remained hadn't been worth stealing, so wasn't worth selling either.

And her jewels would be inaccessible for her, the key to his safe unfortunately "misplaced"-for the time being. He hadn't locked them away yet, though, held one of the earrings in his hand now, unconsciously rubbing it along the side of his cheek. He had watched them sway in her nervousness and thump gently against her neck. They'd still been warm when he'd picked them up, her heat in them, and he'd grasped that warmth tightly in his fist on the way out the door, unwilling to let it go, when he had just forced himself to let her go.

It was such a simple plan, this seduction. How in the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l did it suddenly seem so complicated? But he knew why. He hadn't counted on the effect she had on him, hadn't planned on being charmed by her blushes, entranced by her beauty, fascinated by her myriad emotions, nor aroused by an innocent touch and set on fire by her own desire. He was the one who had been seduced, and most thoroughly. And he wasn't sure if he could manage to subject himself to that again, without bringing it to a natural conclusion.

He should distance himself, timewise, at least until he could get these unexpected reactions of his under control. Avoid her completely for a day or two. But there was no time for that. No more touching, then. The touching had been his own undoing. Surely he could conduct this seduction without physical contact. Work on her sympathies instead. Even resort to a bit of natural courts.h.i.+p of the less obvious sort. Seduce her mind first, then her body.

Satisfied with the new plan, Vincent finished off the brandy and didn't refill his gla.s.s. And he was glad of the distraction when the knock sounded at the door now. Since it was only his secretary who ever intruded here, it wasn't surprising to see Horace Dudley enter.

Vincent had forgotten, however, that he might need to be looking for a new secretary. A distinctly annoying thought. But just as stiff of form as he'd been last night when he marched off down that snowy street, Horace carried the promised letter of resignation in hand. Vincent didn't give the little man a chance to present it.

"Put that away, Mr. Dudley. I have already rectified what you found so objectionable, leaving you no reason to desert your position here."

"Rectified? You've allowed the Ascots to keep their house?"

Vincent frowned over that absurd conclusion. "After all the effort and favors I called in to acquire it? No. But the lady is staying here until her father returns, so she won't be sitting on some street corner, huddled in a blanket, half-buried in snow."

Horace cleared his throat. "I hadn't quite imagined such a dire circ.u.mstance, m'lord, but apparently you did."

Vincent's frown took on deeper lines. "Not a'tall, and beside the point," he said briskly. "You will agree, however, that you no longer have reason to look for a new position?"

After the tongue-las.h.i.+ng he had received from his wife last night over his high morals, which wouldn't put bread on the table, Horace was happy to say, "Indeed, and thank you, m'lord."

"Back to work, then. You may concentrate now on those two investments we discussed last week. Oh, and summon my physician to the house."

"You are feeling poorly?"

"No, but let the staff know that he'll be here to take care of any illness or physical complaints they might have."

"You should know they won't come forward, m'lord. Physicians are much too expensive for minor-"

"I'll take care of the charges."

Horace blinked. "That's quite-generous of you. Are you sure you aren't feeling poorly?"