One Tempting Proposal

by Christy Carlyle

  Somehow he managed to make none of his rosy perspective feel like false assurance. Indeed, Sebastian seemed unable to speak anything but the unvarnished truth. No ambiguity. No polishing his sentences to make them more appealing. No couching his meaning in similes or metaphors.

  “You don’t know my mother.” She glanced down at the list resting on her thighs. “The first obstacle is location. Many churches can’t be scheduled on such short notice. There’s Sunderly, our home in Suffolk, but Mama and Papa don’t like to return to the country before the season’s end.”

  “What about Roxbury?”

  “That would impress my mother.”

  She’d heard of the estate, had even seen an etching of it in a book on English country houses. By all accounts, the structure had been built on a grand scale and situated on one of the most breathtaking pieces of land in Cambridgeshire. Not at all the house for a plain-­speaking mathematician. Hattie would find the notion of a country house wedding romantic.

  “Then it’s settled.”

  The ease with which he made the gracious offer took Kitty by surprise, especially considering his initial resistance to the scheme.

  He finally eased back into the chair he occupied, though he still sat with his feet planted firmly on the ground and a hand on each arm of the chair, a bit like a monarch perched on his throne. Pleased with himself, that’s what he looked, and Kat allowed him a moment of satisfaction before moving onto the next item on her list.

  “You’ll need to . . .” The words stuck in her mouth like toffee. She’d convinced the duke to go along with her plan, but dictating his actions seemed a good deal more daunting. “You’ll have to court me. And as publicly as possible.”

  She prepared herself for resistance. He’d said she risked her reputation, but he would have to risk his too. More so, since he would be the jilted suitor when all was said and done. The more publicly they conducted their engagement, the more public the judgment when it crashed. Yet it would be the only way to convince her father and their circle of friends.

  Instead of anger, Sebastian seemed amused. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs and clasping his hands in front of him. She was grateful for his clasped hands, having promised herself to insist on less touching.

  “Then you’ll have to help me, Kat. Tell me how you like to be wooed.”

  “I’ll play my part, I assure you.” He didn’t like that, whether it was the reminder of the falseness of their connection or the flippant tone in her voice, his brow creased and he leaned back in his chair, moving away from her.

  “Shall we get started?”

  “Now?” He looked as miserable as when he’d left her father’s study.

  “Mmm. I thought we’d start with a ride in Hyde Park.” The park where she’d first suggested their engagement seemed a fitting spot for their first outing as a betrothed ­couple.

  “A carriage ride? Why not a walk?” he suggested.

  The paths would be crowded with riders at this time of day. The duke had to be aware of the tradition of a morning ride through Hyde Park.

  “I prefer a horseback ride. You can borrow Harriet’s horse, unless you prefer to return with your own.” She stood, not giving him time to protest. “I’ll go and change. Perhaps you can peruse my list while you wait.” She handed him her little leather journal, keeper of her many lists.

  “You have a list?” From his frown, it seemed he wasn’t looking forward to any of it.

  “We’ve only just begun, Sebastian. There’s much more to come.”

  “YOU’RE STARING AT my hat.” At first she assumed the duke couldn’t take his eyes off of her, that he was as enthralled as he’d seemed at his aunt’s ball. But every time she glanced over, his gaze was locked on her head.

  “I’m not the only one.” He turned to take in the groom and others assisting in the Clayborne mews. “I do believe everyone is looking at your hat.”

  “Nonsense.” Kitty looked around to make sure he was, in fact, teasing. “It’s the latest fashion.”

  He lifted both brows before glancing again at her feathers.

  She stiffened her spine and lifted her chin in defiance as he studied her. The feathers were rather long, and perhaps a bit too numerous, but their excess would make her stand out among the crowd. So what if she had to tilt her head a bit to the right to balance the weight? The milliner’s creation made her feel tall and regal. And no one could deny the iridescent lime, tan, and turquoise shades of the peacock feathers looked fetching with the dark green velvet of the hat.

  Kitty loved her new hat. Absolutely adored it.

  “Is it comfortable?”

  “No, but it’s beautiful.”

  If comfort were the criteria for fashion’s value, she’d happily burn her bustle and divest herself of every corset in her closet. None of them were anywhere near as pretty as her new hat.

  He grunted and smirked at the same time. “Hmm . . . the color suits you.”

  “Quite the concession.” Kitty grabbed Majesty’s reins and allowed a groom to boost her up. The horse dipped its head for a scratch and she reached out to brush her fingers through its mane.

  When Junia, Harriet’s horse, scraped a hoof against the path, the duke sidestepped away from the animal’s side.

  “You don’t like horses.” The realization stunned her. She’d never met a gentleman who didn’t take his horseflesh seriously.

  “I have little experience of horses. Most I’ve known spent their time drawing a carriage.”

  “But you have ridden before?”

  He opened his mouth and stood staring at the animals a moment, but no explanation came.

  “Sebastian?”

  “Once before.”

  She couldn’t help staring. She consciously locked her lips so her mouth wouldn’t stand agape. One horseback ride. One waltz. The man seemed to like his experiences in the singular.

  “It didn’t go well?”

  Glancing down at his upper arm, he twisted his mouth. “The horse bit me.”

  “Why did you let him bite you?”

  “I don’t recall giving my consent,” he said, throwing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest slightly. “He nudged my arm. I thought he was being friendly.”

  She couldn’t quite imagine how his brawny arm ended up in a horse’s mouth. She stared, wondering if a scar still marked the spot.

  He bristled. “I was a child. No one told me a horse who nudges you is considering whether to take a bite.”

  She chuckled under her breath, then put a finger to her mouth to stay the laughter. “I suspect horses are like ­people. Some are more apt to bite than others.”

  Casting a wary gaze over Harriet’s horse, he asked. “And this one?”

  “Junia’s never bitten anyone. Though it might be difficult, I’m sure she can resist having a bite of you.”

  “Very reassuring.”

  He tilted his head to catch the horse’s eye, and then lifted a hand to grasp near the saddle’s pommel. Sunlight glinted off his polished boot when he slipped it into the stirrup iron, and Kitty couldn’t manage to avert her gaze from the firm muscled line of his thigh as he flexed to lift himself into the saddle.

  Junia flicked her head and took a single step forward, nearly pulling him off his standing leg. Releasing his grip on the saddle and untangling his foot, Sebastian hopped back, crossed his arms, and offered Kitty an endearingly peeved frown.

  “She’s rejected me.”

  “Nonsense. She’s testing you.” Nodding her head at him encouragingly, Kitty added, “Don’t be so indulgent at the start. Take the reins firmly in hand when you mount.”

  He turned his head slowly and gazed up at her, his mouth tipped in a beguiling grin. Voice low and seductive, he assured, “I shall certainly keep that in mind.”

  She caught her
breath as the sunlight caressed the arch of his high cheekbones and the faint stubble at the edge of his jaw.

  His words felt like a stroke down her back, a hot breathy whisper at the base of her neck. Kitty shivered.

  When he approached Junia again, Kitty gripped her reins so tightly her own horse neighed and tipped her head in protest.

  “Grasp a bit of her mane rather than the pommel.”

  He nodded and swung himself into the saddle. For a man who’d only ridden once before, he sat a horse well and controlled the reins masterfully. He was more insistent than Harriet, and the mare responded as if she appreciated a rider who knew how to take the lead.

  As they trotted toward Hyde Park, she reflected how the duke had been the same when he waltzed with her. Other gentlemen stared at her too long and lost their footing, and some were so abysmal at ballroom conversation that she forced the lead from them in protest. But the Duke of Wrexford had been unexpectedly sure-­footed, and she’d been as supple in his arms as that silly horse. Letting him guide her, trusting him to lead.

  They’d ridden for only a brief time and were just approaching the banks of the Serpentine. A breeze kicked up and swept the lake’s surface into a dancing bed of diamonds, rippling waves sparkling in the sunlight. They drew near a tree and the wind funneled around them, lifting tufts of the duke’s bronze hair.

  The duke turned to her, his expression grim. “How long must we do this?”

  “You’re not enjoying it.” She didn’t need to be as discerning as her father to recognize his dissatisfaction.

  He flexed his fists around the reins and tried for an expression more pleasured than pained.

  They might not look like London’s most besotted ­couple, but their outing hadn’t gone unnoticed. Kitty looked around them and noticed a young woman she’d met during her first season. The lady looked on from horseback and whispered to her companion, the Earl of Chessick.

  Craning her neck, she noted other glances. They weren’t quite making a scene, but perhaps they were making an impression that would set a few tongues wagging. If others remembered them at all, they’d probably recall her unique hat. She’d count that a victory, whatever Sebastian thought of her fashion sense.

  A strand of loose hair caught at her neck, tugging a few pins free. Before she could fix it back in place, a breeze kicked up and snatched the hat off her head, sending it dancing like a whirling dervish above her head.

  “My hat!” As it flitted on the air behind her, Kitty reached back, arms wheeling to grab it. Majesty startled at the awkward movement and pranced forward, shaking Kitty off-­balance. Frantically grabbing for purchase, she rolled her hips and slid out of the sidesaddle, legs akimbo, and finally ended up bent across the horse, her backside pointing in Sebastian’s direction.

  All she could do was watch as her hat sailed past, landing on the banks of the Serpentine. It bobbed in the shallows, plumes standing tall like an extraordinary ship’s topsail.

  She heard Sebastian’s cough behind her, and then felt his hands at her waist as he settled her safely back in the saddle.

  “What are you doing?”

  He handed her Junia’s reins along with Majesty’s. “I’m saving you from further embarrassment and fetching your hat. You do want it, don’t you?”

  Just then the wind caught the feathers and heaved the hat along, a forlorn little boat skipping on the water’s surface.

  “It’s gone in too far now,” she said, trying to keep the whine from her voice. “You’ll ruin your boots.”

  “At least it got me off the horse.”

  He removed his overcoat and handed it to Kitty.

  Rolling up his shirt cuffs as he marched toward the shore, he stopped when the toe of his boot dipped into the water’s edge.

  Kitty swallowed hard. Where had a mathematician acquired such muscular thighs? And why was she staring at the man’s thighs at all?

  He turned back to her. “I hope they’re watching. Whoever we’re supposed to be convincing.”

  Yes, of course. Being seen as a ­couple was why they were here in the first place, not for her to study the firm planes and sinewy swells of his body. Why was the man so muscled? The mystery of it gave her an excuse to stare longer.

  No doubt he was one of those sporting gentlemen, preoccupied with running across fields or thwacking balls with bats. Men who talked of nothing but sports put her to sleep.

  “You’re quite fond of sports, aren’t you?”

  He’d just waded in, the water rushing up the length of his boots, then higher, pasting his black trousers to those thighs she shouldn’t be so interested in.

  “Is that what you wish to discuss now? While I’m . . .” He waved his hand ahead of him in the general direction of her doomed scrap of millinery. One determined peacock feather still poked its head above the water.

  “I’m curious.”

  He inhaled deeply, lifting his inexplicably contoured chest, and peered back at her over his shoulder.

  “I was on the rowing crew at Cambridge and have a passing interest in other sports. I can swim, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Rowing? That explained the width of his arms and the strength in his legs. Perhaps some sports weren’t so bad after all.

  When she said nothing more, he continued treading water, releasing a hiss as a wave crested his thighs, swelling up over his shapely backside, and higher still until the sky blue shade of his waistcoat turned an inky dark indigo.

  “I told you it was deep.”

  “Very helpful. Thank you,” he called back drily.

  The force of his movements pushed a surge of water ahead of him, which set the hat weaving along at a faster clip. With one long arm extended, he reached out to snatch the frippery from the lake. It looked like a pathetic bird that had crashed to a watery end, its feathers sodden and limp.

  Sebastian hoisted the little hat with a victorious pump in the air as if he’d just pulled Excalibur from its stone.

  Kitty lifted a fist to her mouth to stifle laughter, but she heard a giggle and echoes of throaty female delight erupting behind her. A throng of women had gathered at the lake’s edge to watch Sebastian walk out of the water with his treasure. One lifted up a kerchief as if she considered throwing it out for him to retrieve, but most simply stood agog, watching water sluice down his long muscular legs, his painted-­on trousers leaving little to the imagination. Water had seeped up his waistcoat and soaked the white shirt beneath, fabric clinging lovingly to each hard muscle as he moved. He was a gentlemanly Poseidon emerging from the Serpentine depths, and few seemed willing to miss a moment of the display.

  When he finally stepped out of the water, a dainty applause broke out and then grew. A few gentlemen had drawn near and added their approval. Sebastian sketched a deep bow, waving her hat as if he’d just doffed a feathered cap at his gaggle of admirers.

  He glanced down at her now ruined piece of headgear and frowned.

  “It might be all right once it dries out.”

  “No, it’s ruined.”

  “I’m sorry, Kat.” She’d never seen more sincerity in a man’s eyes than when he handed her the bit of drenched fabric.

  “Help me down.” He frowned at that and a twitch started at the edge of his jaw when he reached for her. She expected him to offer a hand to lean on, but he grasped her waist instead and took all her weight as he lifted her off Majesty and settled her on the ground, careful not to allow her body to brush against his wet clothing.

  “We’ve attracted a good deal of attention.” She opened her mouth to instruct him to bow over her hand or whisper in her ear, to take some action to seal their romance in the memory of their sizable audience.

  The duke needed no direction.

  He released her waist and reached for her hand, but he wasn’t content to place a chaste kiss on the back of he
r glove. Turning her hand palm up, he snaked his fingers up to her wrist, peeling back the edge of her leather riding gloves and finding the bare patch of skin below her jacket cuff. He rubbed her flesh with his thumb, drawing all the sensation in her body to that single spot. Then he bent at the waist to kiss her there on the inch of territory he’d staked for himself.

  It wasn’t a simple kiss. His tongue darted out to wet the spot, then his hot breath teased against the dampness before she felt the firm warm press of his lips.

  Her thighs quivered as if the ground below her feet had begun trembling and might not hold her up.

  When he stood and looked down at her, eyes searching for her reaction, she bit her lip to stifle the moan pressing at the back of her throat.

  He hadn’t released her hand, but for once she was grateful for his touch. The strong wall of his body steadied her, reassured her. Then she glared up at him. His far too tempting touch was the reason she needed steadying in the first place.

  Tugging her hand from his, she took a step to put distance between them.

  “I think we’ve made an impression.” He skimmed his gaze over a few ladies clinging tenaciously to the patch of grass near the water’s edge, eager to catch his attention, or wishing she’d fall in, no doubt.

  They’d made an impression all right. She could easily imagine some gossip rag scribbler preparing the next broadsheet in which her hat debacle featured prominently. But that wasn’t the impression that still made rational thought a challenge and her skin tingle where he’d kissed her. The shape of his mouth seared into the sensitive skin of her wrist—­that was the impression that kept her thoughts stumbling.

  “Can we walk the horses back?”

  “I suppose you’ve earned that.”

  As they walked and the horses clip-­clopped behind them, ladies turned to watch their progress. Or, rather, his progress. He still hadn’t replaced his jacket, and she noted how their eyes wandered to all the places she’d perused so brazenly.

  Kat clenched her teeth.

  “Are you embarrassed to be seen with a soaking wet man?” For a gentleman who made his own emotions so apparent, he had a shockingly poor ability to read others.