But despite the pain throbbing in her foot, a different kind of throbbing gripped her heart…her loins.
With bated breath, Henrietta watched Sebastian lift her wrist to his lips. She thought her heart would stop, the anticipation was so great.
And when his warm mouth tickled her skin, sending shudders of pure delight scampering along her limbs, she closed her eyes and sighed in total fulfillment.
Soft lips moved over her wrist in feathery kisses. He flicked his tongue over her thumping pulse, then gently sucked at the sensitive spot, making her shiver and coo.
He was doing to her what she had done to him the other night. And he was very good at it! Henrietta ached inside to hold him. So many years of longing had culminated in this erotic moment. But Sebastian was determined to be a tease.
Slowly he pushed up the sleeve of her wrapper, pressing kiss after warm kiss to each patch of skin he uncovered.
When he reached the hollow of her elbow, and his dark locks grazed her tender breast, her heart thundered even more, the wild beats deafening echoes in her ears.
“Ravenswood,” she whispered, and stroked his curly black hair, beckoning him closer.
He obliged her.
Shifting from the chair, he moved to the edge of the settee.
The dark fire in his eyes forewarned of heady passion. Her sisters had advised her he was a dangerous man. But Henrietta was too aroused to quail under the viscount’s scorching look. Besides, she trusted the man. However much he desired her, he would never hurt her. She was faithful in her belief.
Sebastian trailed a finger along the parting in her wrapper, widening the woolly garment.
Her breathing deepened.
“You’re not a little girl anymore, are you, Henry?”
He whispered the words, a dark timbre.
Henrietta placed her palm over his hand, and in a shaky voice said, “No, Ravenswood, I’m not.”
She pushed his hand to her beating heart, the swell of her breast fitting into his large palm.
He lifted his eyes, such a stormy pair of eyes. “Do you want me to touch you here, Henry?”
Henrietta was having a devilishly hard time keeping her voice steady. Months of training with Madam Jacqueline had prepared her to flirt, but she’d yet to feel a man’s hand on her body. That Ravenswood was the first to caress her in such an intimate way made the moment all the more wonderful—and made her all the more giddy.
“Yes,” she whispered, taking in a shuddering breath. “Touch me.”
His fingers splayed to take in the entire mound of her breast. He cupped the flesh in his sturdy palm, and gently squeezed.
Henrietta closed her eyes and dipped her head back, thrusting even more of her aching breast into his masterful touch.
Heavens, what a delicious torment!
“Oh, Ravenswood,” she breathed, her nipple puckering under his languorous caress. “Don’t stop.”
Sebastian kissed her throat, the spicy scent of him filling her lungs.
“Say my name, Henry.”
She gasped when he nipped at her neck, then soothed the bite with the flick of his hot tongue.
Henrietta shivered. “Kiss me.”
He lifted his lips to graze hers ever so softly. “That’s blackmail, Henry.”
“A fair trade,” she whispered instead, breathless.
Pulse throbbing, Henrietta waited for his reply.
Sebastian delved deep into her eyes, probing. His fingers still rubbed her breast in tantalizing motions, making her head spin and her belly dance. But it was a kiss on the lips she wanted more than anything else in the world.
His hand moved away from her breast. “Say my name first.”
Henrietta wanted to whimper at the loss of his balmy touch, but she soon sucked in a sharp breath when his hand started to rove to other more intimate places.
Sweat gathered between her breasts, her knees trembled, as he slipped his hand beneath the blanket and under her night rail.
The rogue!
Henrietta stared, mesmerized by the hand rubbing along her leg.
“Say it, Henry.”
Robust fingers caressed her calf, making the blood pound in her head—and other places, too.
The flesh between her legs started to throb. A moist heat gathered at her apex. Henrietta didn’t want to say his name. She was more curious to see where his hand was going to end up.
He nuzzled her cheek. “Say my name, Henry.”
Her lashes fluttered at the heady sound of him.
But she quickly cried out at the sudden firm pressure between her legs.
She trembled and ached under the deft strokes of his thick fingers tickling and teasing the oh-so-sensitive folds of flesh.
“Say it, Henry,” he beseeched again. “Say my name.”
A finger slipped deep inside her wet passage.
“Oh, Sebastian!”
She almost choked on the words, the pleasure was so intense.
He kissed her then. A hard kiss that pinched her breath and made her dizzy with delight.
Moisture pooled in her eyes, between her fingers. She cupped his cheeks in fervid desire, drinking in the rich taste of him, the spicy scent of him.
“Say it again,” he breathed, and thrust a second finger inside her wet passage.
She groaned. “Sebastian.”
“And again,” he said roughly, pumping his fingers deep inside her, kissing her between commands.
She sensed he wanted her to make up for all the times she’d called him by his title. And she would gladly oblige him.
“Sebastian!” she cried again, and again, and again.
Between hot kisses and wanton strokes, Henrietta sensed a deep, thrumming tension winding in her belly. The pressure was so great, demanding release, she wanted to scream. She didn’t dare, though. Instead she groaned, telling Sebastian she was on fire, that she needed to be doused.
Blessedly, his fingers worked their magic.
The muscles in her womb shuddered, the spastic pulses taking away the tight knot of thrumming need, dazzling her senses.
Henrietta couldn’t move. She was a blissful lump on the settee, so sated, so full of joy.
Sebastian didn’t seem able to stir much, either. And it was a long, breathless while before either one of them could say a word.
He kissed the tip of her nose softly. “I think you owe me something, Henry.”
Dazed, Henrietta said, “Thank you?”
He chuckled. A deep, rumbling sound that made her feel all fuzzy and warm.
“I appreciate the gesture, Henry, but it’s not what I had in mind.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Then what?”
He gave her a roguish smile. “I do believe you owe me your baby toe.”
“Oh.” She had made that promise the night of Papa’s masquerade ball, hadn’t she? Well, if the man wanted her toe, he deserved it. She stuck her bare foot out from under the blanket. “Take it. It’s yours.”
He looked at the foot, bent down, and kissed the baby toe.
Henrietta smiled, devilishly pleased with his romantic gesture.
“Come.” He scooped her up in his arms, blanket and all, and collected a candle. “I’ll take you back to your room.”
With a sigh of contentment, Henrietta rested her head against the groove of his neck and closed her eyes.
It’d been perfect, the kiss. Everything she had ever dreamed. She was now surer than ever that Ravenswood was her mate in life. And after tonight’s passionate encounter, she was just as sure he’d ask for her hand before Twelfth Night.
Chapter 13
Sebastian set the light aside before he placed Henrietta on the bed. In the sultry shadows she looked a wanton sight. Hair rumpled. Eyes moist. Lips plump, still swollen after a sinfully delightful kiss.
His body throbbed with impotent lust. He ached to touch her; to finish what they’d started in the library. But he fisted his palms instead. He couldn’t ruin the chit. He’d have to
marry her then. And he damn well wasn’t going to do that!
He bent down to buss her brow. “Good night, Henry.”
She cupped his face in her soft palms and squeezed. “You don’t have to go, Sebastian.”
He was tempted. So very tempted by her seductive offer.
It baffled him, the intensity of his desire for her. He was a jaded wastrel. How could an innocent flower bewitch him so? There was something about Henrietta that inflamed the darkest recess of his soul. Her innocent beauty, her goodness, engaged him. Made the rogue within him stand up and take notice.
Sebastian settled on the bed beside her. He stroked the long and silky strands of her auburn hair scattered across the bedspread. In the candlelight, the russet locks glowed like the fiery streaks of a sunset. Her eyes, too, blazed in the smoldering light, perusing him with heady passion.
“You’re so beautiful, Henry.”
She lifted her lips to his. “So are you.” And kissed him softly.
Sebastian closed his eyes with a faint groan. He slipped his hand beneath her head to support her, fingers curled in her rich mane, giving her freedom to ravish his mouth. She tasted so sweet, a lemon-scented, soapy perfume. He breathed in the citrus fragrance, let it tease and enchant his senses.
“So beautiful,” he breathed against her lips. “So good.”
She opened her mouth for him. He slipped his wicked tongue between her teeth, stroking her. And when she moaned, a deep, feral moan, blood rushed through his veins, pulsed in his head, and pounded in his groin.
“Oh, Sebastian.”
He deepened the kiss. He wasn’t going to bed the girl. Really, he wasn’t. He’d bring the kiss to surcease. Soon. He just wanted to taste her a little longer; to feel the warmth of her body. It both soothed his soul and rankled his lust, to have her pressed beneath him, writhing in sensual pleasure.
“Touch me,” she bade.
Sebastian groaned again. Did she have to sound so sexy, his little despot? How was he supposed to wrest himself away from her if she beckoned—ordered—him to touch her? He damn well couldn’t resist such a sultry invitation. And he was beginning to think she knew it.
Enchanted by the bewitching minx in his arms, Sebastian stroked her waist, rubbed her plump hip.
Henrietta cupped his hand and pushed it down. “Touch me lower, Sebastian.”
The look of lust in her eyes made the blood pound in his cock. He was shaking, deuce it! Shaking like a virginal mooncalf. Henrietta was just so warm and sweet and so full of passion. He could stay in her arms forever. It was true bliss…It was a frightening thought.
Sebastian fixed his eyes on Henrietta’s flushed features. He didn’t dare look down, as she raked the train of her night rail over her knees. He’d lose every last ounce of resistance, he was sure. Instead he let her guide his hand to the moist crevice between her thighs; let her steer his fingers over the folds of her feminine flesh in any way that she wanted.
Sebastian dropped his brow to hers, pressed his lips to hers, breathing in the wanton sounds of her desire. He was sweating and trembling. He wanted nothing more than to tear the blasted shirt off his back, unfasten the buttons of his trousers, and slip between Henrietta’s warm and creamy thighs.
“Henry, you vixen.”
He kissed her hard, stroked the petal-soft skin between her legs at her behest.
The sweat dripped off his brow. He ached to bury himself deep inside her. It burned within him, the need to bed her.
In the passionate tussle, Sebastian’s hand moved under her pillow—and knocked something hard.
He fingered the peculiar item. “What is this?”
Breathless with desire, but still curious, he yanked the heavy object from its hiding spot.
A book.
Henrietta reached for it. “No, Sebastian!”
In the struggle, the tome landed on the bedside rug—and opened.
Sebastian bristled.
There, under flickering candlelight, was an image of fornication.
Dazed, Sebastian sat up. Lust still raged in his groin, but the bewildering picture spread out at his feet captivated him.
He picked up the book and moved away from the bed. Taking in deep and steady breaths to soothe the desire in his belly, he leafed through the tome.
But erotic picture after erotic picture flipped before his eyes—and inflamed his passions even more.
“Where did you get this, Henry?”
She sat up, hair and wrapper rumpled, eyes wide. She curled her legs under her chin, and pulled the blanket up to her knees. “Well, I…um…”
“Tell me!”
She flinched.
He quickly regretted his clipped tone. But devil take it, he was stunned. What was the girl doing with such a wanton tome?
“It was a gift,” she said, breathless.
The lust still thrumming through his veins ebbed away, a simmering rage coursing through him instead.
“A gift?” A profound need to snap the impudent man’s throat overwhelmed him. “From who? Tell me, Henry. Are you having an affair?”
“No!”
“Is he trying to seduce you? Give me his name. I’ll kill him.”
“There is no one, Sebastian. I swear.”
He was breathing hard, ragged. “Then who gave you the book?”
“Madam Jacqueline.”
She whispered the name. A woman’s name.
Sebastian’s mind raced. He had heard that name before. But where? And then it came to him. “The courtesan?”
Henrietta nodded.
“But why did you accept a gift from a prostitute?”
“You don’t understand. I went to see Madam Jacqueline. I needed her help.”
“For what?”
Silence.
“Out with it, Henry. Are you enceinte? Is that why you went to see the prostitute? To get rid of the babe?”
Her fists pounded on the bed. She hissed, “How dare you, you stubborn blackguard! You know there isn’t anyone in the world I want, but you!”
It was a blow to the gut, the revelation. Sebastian looked back at the book; to a picture of a woman straddling a man, dominating him…seducing him.
Nonplussed, Sebastian lifted his gaze to Henrietta. She had studied the book. It was evident in her very manner. She had looked at the pictures, over and over again, dreaming up ways to bewitch him.
But still, she had refined her sexual allure in a short period of time. Even looking at sinful pictures was not enough to shape her seductive ways so quickly. She’d had a teacher.
His nostrils flared. “Tell me why you went to see Madam Jacqueline.”
“Sebastian,” she said more softly, “I needed her to teach me how to…”
“Say it, Henry!”
She huffed. “How to seduce you.”
There it was, the dreaded truth.
“You tricked me,” he breathed, even more bewildered. He had abandoned his home, drifted across the mainland for five months, all in the hope of breaking his bond with Henrietta. And she had plotted and schemed to seduce him the entire time he was away.
“No, Sebastian.” She tossed the blanket aside and clambered to her knees. “I wanted to be with you. I just didn’t know how else to get you to notice me.”
He growled, “You mean you didn’t know how else to trap me into marriage?”
A rush of memories flooded his head. It was all a ruse: her shapely hips and artful looks and whispered words. A bloody sham to enchant him. And she had risked her reputation, the fool girl, to learn the art of seduction. To leg-shackle him!
He slammed the book closed. “All that rubbish about friendship.”
“But I did mean it, Sebastian. I do want to be your friend…and your lover.”
He shuddered to hear her say the word “lover.” She was a charming mess, her hair mussed, her wrapper askew. He could see the round curves of her breasts, her hips beneath the flimsy night rail. Such a titillating sight, designed to entice him. To tr
ap him—the poor, wicked viscount—into matrimony with the one thing he couldn’t resist: sex.
Disbelief roiled in his belly. Wretched grief, too. Henrietta had betrayed him. He’d believed her the last good soul on earth. What tripe! He should have known there was no such thing as an innocent heart. After all, he spent much of his time cloistered amid the dregs of humanity. He understood the fickle human heart, the wily will. And Henrietta was as devious as any other charlatan.
“You’re just like all the other scheming flirts of the ton,” he said.
“Sebastian, please.” She crawled off the bed and limped to the bedpost, clutching it for support. “I did this for you.”
He sneered, “For me?”
“Dash it, we belong together!”
“No, Henry, we do not belong together. We will never belong together.”
She huffed. “Sebastian, I know you’re angry, but listen to me.”
He threw the book across the room. It collided with the fainting couch, the thud muffled.
“I’ve heard enough.” He was fighting hard to keep his temper in check. One roaring word and he’d have the household at the door. Then he’d have to marry the conniving chit. “I’m leaving, Miss Ashby.”
“Sebastian, wait!”
He thundered toward the door, opened it, then hastened into the corridor. It was late, so the passageway was deserted.
He headed for his room, his mind a whirl. He was such a bloody ass! How had he let the sly little chit beguile him like that? She had so wholly bewitched him, he’d kissed her after an eight-year hiatus. Slathered his lips over her, groped her, shoved his fingers in her…
Sebastian paused. He slumped against the cold wall and took in a sharp breath. He was a disgusting wretch. The girl might be a scheming flirt, but she was still an innocent. He had fingered the tightness of her sheath…and cupped the dewy folds of flesh at her apex, the moist curls.
He shuddered at the erotic memory, and pushed away from the wall. He should not have tainted the girl with his vile touch. He should not have put his hands or his filthy mouth on her. And he definitely shouldn’t have enjoyed the encounter so much.
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