Seduced: The Scandalous Virgin. Deborah Hale
words had scarcely left his lips when his coat came hurling back at him and a strangely familiar voice addressed him in a tone that conveyed more scorn than gratitude. “I know who you are, Mr. Maxwell, and I will thank you to keep your coat and your hands to yourself!”
Blade looked up into the flashing hazel eyes of Genia Vernon, the only woman who'd ever seriously tempted him to break his rule about not seducing virgins. Her blazing glare warned him he would never get that opportunity with her.
The sight of Blade Maxwell on the deck of the Hartwell sank Genia's spirits even lower than they were already. She had thought nothing could make her voyage of exile worse. The presence of a far-too-attractive charmer who'd spurned and humiliated her would make the coming months at sea very much worse, indeed.
“Why, M-miss Vernon.” Lifting his gaze to her face at last, Blade fumbled the coat she'd thrown back at him. “What an unexpected—” he seemed to grasp for a word that would not be too obviously insincere “—surprise.”
His momentary awkwardness rendered the man even more attractive than the usual easy charm—drat his hide! The roguish twinkle had faded from his silvery-gray eyes, making him look rather lost and in need of something part of her yearned to give. He appeared leaner than when she'd last seen him, and his patrician features had a chiseled look.
“I never heard of a surprise that was expected.” Genia seized a blanket offered to her by a crewman and covered herself with it, all the while trying to stifle her body's wanton reaction to Blade's touch. “If you will excuse me, I must retire to my cabin to change clothes before I catch a chill.”
In truth, her wet gown felt quite refreshing, but it provided a good excuse to get away.
“Of course.” Blade Maxwell made a graceful bow that seemed to mock her bedraggled state. His well-practiced charm overcame his momentary embarrassment at seeing her again. “We will have plenty of time to renew our acquaintance in the weeks to come.”
Did he think she was too stupid to see through his twofaced pretence of courtesy?
“Alas, I fear you are correct, sir.” With as much dignity as she could muster, Genia swept away.
She managed to maintain her brittle composure until she'd been shown to her little cabin off the roundhouse. Even once inside she did not dare vent the full force of her feelings, for fear of being overheard through the flimsy deal walls. The best she could manage was a violent dumb-show, shaking her fist in the air and muttering curses under her breath.
When the handsome Mr. Maxwell had arrived in Madras eighteen months ago, she'd been instantly smitten with him. The pulse-pounding attraction had been a most welcome diversion from her lingering grief over the death of her dearest friend and infant goddaughter. Desperately eager to seize any fleeting pleasure, she had flirted with him shamelessly, determined to leave him in no doubt that she could be his for the asking.
He had responded by going out of his way to avoid her. When circumstances made that impossible, he treated her as if she were some ancient dowager, rather than one of the most sought-after belles in all of India. To compound the insult, he embarked on an affair with a vapid officer's widow twice her age. Her social circle in Madras had been too small for his conduct to go unremarked. He had made her a laughingstock.
That wasn't true, Genia's conscience forced her to admit as she gazed out the port window toward the retreating coastline. She had humiliated herself with her heedless behavior, just as she'd brought about her own disgrace and exile. But was she not being punished enough for her imprudence? Must she also suffer several months in the company of the man who'd spurned her, so he could now gloat over her downfall?
She only hoped Blade Maxwell would make as strenuous an effort to avoid her on the Hartwell as he had during their first acquaintance. If she did likewise, the next few months might just be bearable.
Genia took great pains to repair her appearance before her first dinner at the captain's table. Unfortunately, her toilette made her so late that the only vacant chair was the one beside Blade Maxwell. Stifling a groan, she stammered her apologies and slipped into her seat.
Her hopes that Blade might ignore her were quickly dashed when he turned toward her with a smile that would have thawed an iceberg. “Your drenching doesn't appear to have done you any harm, Miss Vernon. I hope you found your accommodations satisfactory.”
“I believe they will do very well.” She took care to avoid his gaze. A glimmer of well-feigned interest in those silver-gray eyes might tempt her to let down her guard.
Her heart began to flutter in the most ridiculous manner when he leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Make certain to keep your cabin door locked at all times.”
“Why?” Genia cast a glance around the table at their fellow passengers. “You cannot suppose anyone would have designs on my person?”
He gave the most maddeningly infectious chuckle. “You need have no fear on that score. All the unmarried gentlemen are lodged on the deck below. You should be more concerned about the designs certain crewmen might have on your possessions. Some would consider an unlocked cabin an open invitation to pilfer.”
“Of course.” A fierce blush blazed in Genia's cheeks. “Thank you for the warning.”
Was Blade Maxwell deliberately trying to bait her into making a fool of herself again? What had she ever done to him but make her attraction too obvious?
She sought to ignore him by turning her attention to the elderly gentleman her father had asked to watch over her on the voyage, but he was deep in conversation with the captain.
Blade persisted in quizzing her. “What takes you back to England, Miss Vernon?”
Genia nearly choked on a morsel of Bengal mutton. Blade Maxwell was the very last person in the world she wished to know the truth about what awaited her in England.
“I am going to live with my father's aunt,” she replied once she'd cleared her throat. “She means to make me the heiress to her entire fortune.”
It wasn't altogether a lie, Genia tried to placate her protesting conscience. Great-aunt Millicent might leave her a small legacy, though not likely enough to live in any comfort.
“A most enviable situation.” Blade took a deep draft of his wine. “I congratulate you.”
The newfound respect in his tone went to Genia's head. “Yes. I shall be quite independent, able to live in perfect freedom without the encumbrance of a husband and children.”
Was she only professing to disdain what she had no hope of getting? Genia asked herself as she strove to resist Blade Maxwell's disarming charm. No, it went deeper than that. But she was not about to confide her most intimate feelings to a rake like him.
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