Captured (4 page)

“I know nothing. He was simply a member of our household one day and gone the next. Quite mysterious really,” Lillian lied through her even white teeth. “I can’t say I ever saw him quarrel with my brother, though they were a rakish pair. Of course, with Curtis now working with father at the bank, you would never believe that he was such a rapscallion in his youth.”

“Indeed! He’s been practically stuffy with me the last two times he’s come to dinner. Phillip says it’s because he’s preparing to court Miss Elizabeth McBiddens, but I simply can’t believe that. Nothing against Miss McBiddens, but really—”

“Pardon me, Marjorie darling, but the clams are nearly ready and I wondered if you wanted me to fetch you a plate.” Phillip’s voice was as soft and even as always, but his sudden presence at the edge of their blanket still made Lillian jump. She was a bundle of nerves today, a state she didn’t see improving until she made contact with Zander. She had never expected to see him so soon, as his appearances at social functions were few and far between, but she couldn’t waste this opportunity to take her plan to the next level. “Darling, you are the sweetest,” Marjorie said, reaching up to squeeze one of her husband’s hands in her own, her smile brighter than the sun reflecting off the white sand. Her love for her short, square husband was obvious in every word she spoke of him and in every interaction between them. For just a moment, Lillian wondered what it would be like to be in the midst of such a lifetime love affair. “Will you get a plate for my sweet

cousin as well, I think she—”

“No, please don’t bother, Mr. Drake. I feel the need for a bit of exercise before eating. I’ll take a walk and then fetch my own plate.” Lillian smiled as she rose to her feet and fetched her parasol. Margaret had insisted she bring the thing, determined as always to keep Lillian pale as long as possible. “Wouldn’t want you to get a reputation for catering to too many women at once.”

“It is no trouble, Miss Thomas. I’ll gladly bring a plate for you as well,” Phillip said, not making eye contact with her as he spoke. The man was positively timid, a drastic foil to his gay, chatty wife.

“Yes, stay Lillian. I was so enjoying catching up with you. And you know I’ve been dying to talk to you about the Ladies’ Arts Society Luncheon. It’s my first time hosting an event and I would feel so much better if I had your ear before I started making the final arrangements,” Marjorie pleaded.

“Cousin, what do I know of that sort of thing? I’ve never—”

“But you’ve been part of the Arts Society for years. At least you know what’s been served in the past. I’ll simply die if I have Cook make quail and that was on the menu last season.”

“Very well.” Lillian sighed, insanely distracted as she watched Zander’s dark hair disappear over a dune. He was walking toward the lighthouse, but if he got too much of a head start she’d never catch up. “I’ll call on you next week and we can talk quail and pheasant until your mind is put thoroughly at ease. Good day, Phillip.”

Lillian broke away from the couple before Marjorie could speak another word. A bit rude of her, perhaps, but her cousin should be used to her odd ways by this point in their acquaintance. Lillian was the peculiar spinster of the family, a role she would have a long time to perfect if this afternoon went as planned. Now, if she could just manage to make contact with Alexander without making it seem she was chasing him along the seashore like some desperate wanton…

•

Alexander had been certain she would follow. Her gaze had been on him all afternoon. As soon as she thought he wasn’t looking, he’d felt it, the heat in her deep blue eyes enough to keep him in a permanently half-cocked state. He’d made sure she saw him leave and had walked slowly enough that even if she’d decided to crawl across the sand on all fours she should have reached him by now.

Crawling across the sand on all fours
. Now there was an image that did nothing to ease the ache in his loins.

The last two days had been the longest of his life. Never had he been so desperate for a social event as this damned clambake. His aunt had assured him that Lillian and several of her relatives were on the guest list, and even gone out of her way to ascertain that the lady in question was planning to attend. His poor Aunt Tessa was so thrilled to see him interested in a woman,
any
woman, that she hadn’t batted an eyelash when the name Thomas entered the conversation. She knew of his rift with William, but Tessa was the sort who believed true love could conquer all.

True lust is more like it.

Lust—that was the only word for what he was feeling. He was consumed with lust for Lillian, and every minute without his hands on her body, his cock between her thighs was an eternity of torture. He could tell she felt the same, could see the wild desire in every soft curve of her body as she’d fidgeted upon her blanket.

So why hadn’t she followed him? Why in God’s name wasn’t she already here, by his side, letting him take her hand in his and lead her behind the lighthouse where they could get more intimately acquainted?

“Damn and blast it,” he grumbled through gritted teeth.

Could he have been wrong? Could he have somehow mistaken the look in her eyes? “Even if you did, there was no mistaking the intent of the photographs.” He spoke

the words aloud and immediately felt foolish. This was why he needed to attend parties, regardless of his quest to corner Lillian in some private space where they could have their way with each other. He spent far too much time in his own company. The solitary life was starting to make him strange, unfit for the company of his peers.

As if you care for their company, or they for yours.

With a sigh of frustration, Alexander headed back toward where the picnic tables had been arranged for the first clambake of the season. Miss Cara Barrow’s mother and father were hosting the party. They’d both been dear to his parents when they were still living and he owed it to them to be at least a bit sociable. Maybe he’d take a few pictures of the event and send them to them free of charge, as thanks for—

“Damn it all!” The frustrated female voice sounded from his left. He turned to see

her
, his Lillian, squatting between two dunes, behind a camera mounted on a tripod. “Lillian, good day.” Dear God, was that the best thing he could think to say? There

she was, cheeks flushed, hands on her hips, looking at him like some naughty schoolboy, while thoughts of her nude body and small white hands between her legs filled his mind, and all he could think to say was “good day”?

“Zander Darian, it is not a good day. You’ve just completely ruined my last chance at what I’m sure would have been quite a photograph.” She brushed her hair out of her

eyes with a casual wave of her hand and smiled at him as if there were nothing between them but an old fondness. “But no matter, I can attempt to capture the waves at a later date. How have you been? It’s been so long since we’ve had the chance to speak as friends.”

“I’m well, quite well. And yourself? You look…quite well.”

Damn you, man! The photographs! She just mentioned taking a photograph, an excellent lead into something clever and seductive about the ones she sent you. What’s wrong with your head?

“Oh, I am well. As well as can be expected in my unfortunate state.” She smiled and winked at him then. A small wink, but a wink nonetheless. What in God’s name was she meaning? Her state? The state of a lustful young woman yearning for sexual fulfillment? Or something else altogether?

Damn him, but her friendly, casual demeanor was not at all what he expected and he wasn’t sure what to think, to say.

“I’m to be officially betrothed soon, you know,” she added, sparing him further speculation.

“Is that so? And who is the lucky man?” And why did he suddenly want to wring his neck until death? Whoever he was, Alexander knew he would rather see him dead than allowed to bed Lillian—
his
Lillian—freely for the rest of his life.

“A friend of my father’s, but I fear he will not be so lucky.”

“Dearest Lillian, any man who won the pleasure of your company would be a lucky man indeed.”

There you go, man. You’ve got her blushing, it’s only a matter of time now. Keep your wits about you, show that you’ve earned that rakish reputation of yours.

“Oh please, Zander, let’s not play those types of games. There’s no need for double entendre between friends. Arnold Halewater will not be a lucky man because I simply refuse to be married off to him. Even if I did obey father’s wishes, I’m sure I would make the old dear absolutely miserable with my wild ways and far from biddable nature.”

“I haven’t heard of any scandal attached to your name, Lillian. Surely your ways can’t be so very wild.”

“Zander, I think we both know how wild I am.” She walked slowly closer, the look of a confidant siren mingling with the humor on her face. “Did you like them?”

“Like what?” Alexander struggled to appear as detached as she seemed, though she stood close enough for him to feel the gentle puff of her breath against his lips, the heat of her body warming the front of his own.

“The photographs, of course. I knew you were the only one I could trust to develop them for me, the only one I could trust to help me win my freedom.” She brought her hand to his in a simple little caress that made his body ache. “Will you help me, Zander? Will you, once more, be my partner in crime?”

“You want me to develop pictures for you?” Surely that couldn’t be all?

“Yes, and photograph me in the nude, as well. If that’s agreeable to you. I don’t have much money to pay you, but I’d hoped—”

“You want me to photograph you in the nude? Surely you realize the scandal—”

“No one will ever know! I have a friend in Paris who will sell them for me and wire the money to my account. Once I’ve sold a few dozen, she assures me that I’ll have enough money to strike out on my own.” She took a deep breath and uncertainty crossed her features for the first time. “Please, Zander, I can’t bear to marry that man. I desperately need your help. You’re the only one I can trust.”

“Are you sure about that, Lillian?” There was anger in his tone as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. Whether it was anger at her for leading him to believe she wanted more than his professional services, or anger at himself for being so profoundly disappointed, he couldn’t say.

“Zander, what are you—”

“Surely you didn’t believe you could send such images to a man, any man, and not have him expect certain things?” Alexander let his hand smooth up the side of her waist, firm against the bones of her corset until he reached her breast. There he paused, just beneath, and watched her eyes grow wide and her breath come faster.

“Please, I…”

“If you mean to make your way in the world alone, Lillian, you have several lessons you need to learn.” He cupped her breast in his hand and captured her nipple through the thin fabric, squeezing until she cried out. Then he dropped his mouth to hers, swallowing the sound. Her lips were warm, despite the cool ocean breeze, and the softest thing he’d touched in ages.

But soon mere lips were not enough. Alexander swept his tongue across the seam of her mouth and gained his first intimate taste of Lillian Thomas. Behind the hint of lemonade and the salt of the sea air was a darker flavor, an exotic spice that was pure woman, pure passion. She melted into him, meeting his tongue with her own, running her hands down his back, and he knew in that instant that they would be magic together. The intensity of her response, the innocent fervor of her every touch betrayed that she wanted so much more than his photographic skill.

Lillian wanted him in her bed, buried inside of her sweet cunny. He would simply have to enlighten her to the fact.

“But I will make sure that you learn them.” He released her as suddenly as he had taken her into his arms, flicking a casual finger across her hardened nipple before turning and walking away. “Be at my studio tonight. Your lessons begin at nine o’clock sharp.”

He didn’t wait for a reply or turn to see the look on her face. She would be there. He’d bet his career on it. Hell, he
was
betting his career. If word got out that he’d seduced one of Boston’s innocent daughters and taken pictures of her in the nude, he would be ruined. An affair here or there with a married matron was one thing, the ruination of an unmarried miss quite another. His time as a portraitist to the wealthy would be over.

Too bad he didn’t have the sense to give a damn, and that his aching body would settle for no less than the complete sating of his lust upon Lillian Thomas. He would help her, but he would also have her, of that there was no doubt. Nothing came without a price, as Lillian would learn in lesson number one, beginning tonight.

“Let the sheet slide off your other shoulder, expose the other breast now.” Alexander’s voice was muffled by the camera he stood behind, but Lillian had no trouble hearing his directive. She did, however, have a great deal of trouble resisting the urge to tell the bastard exactly what he could do with his overbearing attitude.

“Of course.” Her voice was remarkably calm, considering the mix of rage and maddening desire that thrummed through her body as she obeyed his command.

“Not so much. Try to
tease
, not simply bare yourself.” Alexander sighed, but snapped a picture all the same. “We’re looking to seduce the viewer, Lillian, not merely give him a refresher course on the female anatomy.”

She wanted to kill him. No, on second thought, she wanted to lay him naked on a hill of fire ants, let them sting his flesh for hours, and
then
kill him. Instead she forced a seductive smile.

“
He
might also be a
she
, Zander. We women do enjoy erotic photographs, as well.” Lillian shifted slightly on the settee and tried to think sensual thoughts rather than homicidal ones. She rearranged the sheet until only the barest hint of each nipple was showing and her long braid hung down over one shoulder, nearly covering the aureole of her left breast.