Just a Kiss

by Ally Broadfield

  After finishing his set with the princess, he made his excuses and headed toward the terrace to clear his head and remind himself of his priorities. Gran deserved to see him settled, and perhaps even meet a great-grandchild. He would do his duty and choose a bride who would enhance the title he had been entrusted with.

  Ashdown intercepted him at the threshold to the terrace and followed him outside. By tacit agreement, they proceeded to a secluded area near the corner of the house.

  “Is something amiss?” Ashdown asked. “You don’t seem yourself tonight.”

  Sebastian trusted him implicitly, but he had no desire to share his conflicted emotions with anyone. He rubbed his hands together and focused on the contours of the dark garden. “I fear I’ve grown blasé about the season.”

  “Your disinterest doesn’t seem to extend to Miss Lightwood.”

  He turned toward Ashdown. “I beg your pardon.”

  Ashdown took a step toward him, arms crossed. “You couldn’t take your eyes off her while you were dancing with Princess Tarasova.”

  Sebastian opened his mouth to defend himself, but Ashdown stopped him with a raised hand. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know you too well.”

  Sebastian kicked at the gravel on a path that led deeper into the garden. “If you must know, I am fond of Miss Lightwood, but I think you misunderstand my intentions. I am hoping my feigned interest will attract other suitors for her.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Does she know that’s what you’re about?”

  “Of course.” Sebastian ran his fingers through his hair. “We are acquaintances. Nothing more. She has no particular regard for me.” He almost convinced himself it was true.

  The weight of Ashdown’s stare forced him to look up. Ashdown raised his brows. “All the same, do tread carefully. I shouldn’t like to see her hurt.”

  “Nor would I.”

  “On that, at least, we are in agreement.” Ashdown turned to head back toward the brightly lit ballroom.

  “What is your interest in Miss Lightwood?” Sebastian called after him.

  He turned back. “I am simply trying to look out for her interests, since her family is inadequate to the task.”

  Sebastian raised his chin. “As am I.”

  “Very well then. We shall both act as her protectors until she secures a suitable match.” Ashdown’s feet crunched on the gravel as he headed for the ballroom.

  Sebastian paced toward a fountain, deeming himself unfit to rejoin the party. He had been so consumed with his own feelings, he hadn’t considered Charlotte’s. Unlike Ashdown, she had known about their arrangement from the beginning, so surely she would not be affected when their fabricated courtship came to an end. He wished he could say the same for himself.

  He took a deep breath and returned to the house.

  While scouring the ballroom for Charlotte, Sebastian was caught unawares for the second time that night.

  “Good evening, Lord Marley.” Lady Wilson curtsied. “You remember my daughter, Lady Lavinia.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said. The girl curtsied, and he bowed. He still hadn’t spotted Charlotte. “If you will excuse me—”

  “But my lord, Lavinia was hoping you might be free for the next set,” Lady Wilson said with a feral gleam in her eyes. The girl smiled inanely.

  The audacity of the woman. Did she think trapping a gentleman into dancing with her daughter would net an offer of marriage? And she had trapped him. He could hardly avoid asking her to dance now. It would be a cut direct, and the poor girl didn’t deserve that, no matter how predatory her mother might be.

  He fisted his hands, digging his nails into his palms. “Lady Lavinia, would you care to dance?” It came out a bit more like a growl than he had intended.

  “Why thank you, my lord. I would be honored,” she said, as if he was genuinely interested in dancing with her.

  He led the daft girl to the dance floor, and they took their places for the quadrille.

  “We’re having very fine weather,” she said.

  “Indeed.” He would suffer through dancing with her, but he would not force himself to engage in awkward conversation. After what seemed like hours, the infernal music stopped. He rushed Lady Lavinia to her mother and left, not bothering with the expected pleasantries.

  After circling the ballroom twice, he finally came upon Charlotte at the refreshment table, attempting to dislodge her dance card from underneath a large vase. Amused by her antics, he stopped to watch. She worked the card back and forth, apparently hoping it would slide out, but when that didn’t work she gave up and wrenched it free, sending the vase tottering. He rushed to her aid, slipping an arm around her to pull her against his chest while he steadied the vase. He closed his eyes, marveling at how perfectly she fit against him. The loud clearing of a throat brought him to his senses, and he lifted his lids to find Lady Paddon staring at him, brows raised in censure.

  Ballocks.

  Chapter Eight

  Sebastian released Charlotte so abruptly she nearly fell to the floor. Still dazed from the jolt that shot through her at the intimate contact with him, it took a moment for her to register Lady Paddon’s stern countenance.

  “Is something amiss? I will not tolerate roguery in my ballroom,” Lady Paddon said in an imperious tone.

  Not wanting to sound like a complete fool, Charlotte decided to share an abbreviated version of the incident. “I’m afraid in my clumsiness, I nearly toppled your lovely vase.” She glanced toward Sebastian. “Thankfully, Lord Marley came to my rescue.”

  Lady Paddon blinked once and continued to glare at them. Sebastian unclamped his lips. “In order to save the vase, I had to steady Miss Lightwood as well. My apologies for the disturbance, my lady.”

  Lady Paddon opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, opened it, and closed it again without uttering a word.

  Their salvation arrived in the form of Lord Paddon. “My dear, I believe you promised the next dance to me.”

  She shot them one last venomous glare and allowed her husband to tow her away. Charlotte smoothed her skirts and waited for Sebastian to say something. Anything. Finally, she took matters into her own hands. “Why, thank you, my lord. I would be honored to dance with you,” she said loudly.

  Sebastian jumped to attention and led her onto the dance floor. As he swung her into a waltz, the warmth of his body enveloped her. She inhaled his familiar scent and was disconcerted to discover how at home she felt in his arms.

  “I thought perhaps you’d left the ball. Where have you been?” Charlotte smiled at Anna as she waltzed by.

  “I was busy conducting reconnaissance,” he whispered.

  “You were what?”

  “Searching for a private place to meet,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

  She bit back a smile. “I see. Were you successful?”

  “I believe I’ve found the perfect location.”

  Her stomach dropped. Excitement warred with trepidation within her. “How are we to escape without Elizabeth discovering what we are about?”

  He frowned. “I’m saddened by your lack of confidence in my abilities.”

  Charlotte became lost in his deep blue eyes and promptly forgot what she was about to say. When the dance ended, he led her to the refreshment table, but Mr. Oldham approached before they had a chance to collect themselves.

  “Miss Lightwood, I believe we are engaged for the next dance.”

  “Yes, of course.” Charlotte glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian. He scowled, clearly impatient, but she could hardly refuse to dance with Mr. Oldham on the grounds that it would make her late for her secret rendezvous with Lord Marley.

  While she followed Mr. Oldham, Sebastian approached Lady Grey, the only daughter of a wealthy lord. Her stomach hardened, and she couldn’t seem to draw enough air. A few moments later, he and Lady Grey joined their set for the Scotch Reel. Lady Grey was constructed as perfectly as a porcelain doll, with a delicate grace that was the
ideal complement to Sebastian’s natural elegance. She was as wealthy and well-bred as Anna. Charlotte was none of those things. As they circled through the movements, each glimpse of her perfection served as a reminder that Lady Grey and Anna were the just the sort of women Sebastian should be courting.

  When the dance ended, Mr. Oldham led her back to Elizabeth, but Sir Wakefield claimed the next dance before Sebastian managed to maneuver his way toward her. Sebastian tracked her through the ballroom as she danced with Wakefield, reminding her of the way the hounds focused on the fox during a hunt.

  This time Sebastian was waiting for her when Sir Wakefield deposited her with Elizabeth.

  “I believe the next dance is mine.”

  Elizabeth stepped forward. “My lord, it is very kind of you to show your favor to Charlotte so she doesn’t have to stand alone and watch others dance.”

  Sebastian blinked several times, perhaps unable to devise a reply that could be voiced in so public a forum. “Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out to Charlotte.

  Sebastian’s disagreeable mien left no room for argument, so she quickly devised an excuse to leave the ballroom. “My lord, if you will excuse me, I must first visit the retiring room.”

  “Please allow me to escort you.” He offered his arm again.

  Not at all sure his offer was appropriate, Charlotte looked to Elizabeth for direction, but she didn’t seem to think anything was amiss. Either that, or she didn’t care.

  As they neared the retiring room, Sebastian whispered, “Exit to your left and meet me in the corridor.” His warm breath caressed her cheek as he spoke, sending a shiver through her. She rushed inside and to the washroom, locking the door behind her. A study of her image in the looking glass revealed flushed cheeks and wide eyes. What was she thinking when she agreed to meet privately with Sebastian? If they were caught, she would be ruined, left forever captive to Elizabeth’s whims. She splashed cold water on her face and took several deep breaths to calm her fluttering stomach. After exiting and walking to her left as instructed, she nearly shrieked when she was seized from behind. The whiff of sandalwood and accompanying rush of excitement pulsing through her assured her it was Sebastian who pulled her into the dark chamber.

  Charlotte held her hand to her heart. “You startled me, my lord.”

  Sebastian lit a taper. “I didn’t know it was possible to startle you, Miss Lightwood.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and took in her surroundings, illuminated by candles. They were in Lord Paddon’s library. The musty scent of books was overlaid with lemon furniture polish and the fragrance of the newly lit candles.

  “I nearly expired of boredom while you were enjoying yourself on the dance floor. Why didn’t you tell those men you were unavailable?”

  She ran her fingers down the spine of a book, wishing she had access to a library of this size. “Surely you understand I can’t afford to alienate possible suitors.”

  “Rubbish,” he said with a huff. “Wakefield is far too old for you, and Oldham is far too simpleminded to keep up with you.” He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.

  He clearly wasn’t accustomed to being kept waiting. She’d never seen him behave so irritably and rather liked the discovery that he had at least one fault.

  “Did you bring the calling cards?” he asked.

  She pulled them from her reticule and held them out to Sebastian. His fingers skimmed over hers and caressed her palm before he grasped the cards. The tingle from his touch flowed through her.

  Charlotte frowned while he spread them on an empty corner of the desk. She knew she should prepare to share secrets about Anna with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would be devastating enough to watch him with another woman without adding resentment of her closest friend to the equation.

  Sebastian shuffled quickly through the stack. “We’ve already eliminated Wakefield and Oldham,” he said, moving their cards to the side.

  She arched a brow. “We did?”

  He moved on without bothering to respond. “Carlisle is a dolt, and Sunderland hasn’t enough money to provide properly for you.”

  She leaned over the desk. “Any money would be preferable to none at all.”

  He stopped shuffling through the cards. “Trust me. You’d be better off on your own than married to man who is unable to provide for you.”

  Charlotte drew a line on the carpet with her slipper. He might be correct, but of course he didn’t know that her default option was marriage to Horace. Anyone would be better than Horace, and she had to be honest with herself. Sebastian would never be hers. She took a deep, steadying breath. Wouldn’t it be better to see him settled with Anna than one of the predators of the ton?

  “I meant to tell you, Princess Tarasova mentioned how lovely the bouquet she received from you was. She enjoyed the lilies in particular. You seem to have a penchant for choosing just the right flowers.”

  He looked up. “Does that mean you liked your bouquet?”

  “Oh, yes. It was gorgeous and required only one small adjustment. Even Elizabeth exclaimed over it until she discovered it was for me.”

  He sent her a lopsided smile and went back to the cards. “Ravensdale is a rake. Leathersby won’t do.”

  Charlotte sighed in exasperation. “There must be one among them who would suffice.”

  He turned to face her and studied her as if he could see right through her. “None of them are worthy of you.”

  A wave of longing coursed through her. “Then who am I to marry?” When he failed to answer, she turned away and fiddled with the flowers on the desk. “Without the advantage of wealth or status, I’m not exactly overrun with prospects like you are.”

  “Perhaps not,” he said softly, “but at least you can be certain the man who marries you did so for love and not because of your wealth or title.”

  Charlotte ceased fiddling with the flowers.

  He walked up behind her and reached around her to pull a dark red rose from the vase. He drew the tips of the rose petals along the nape of her neck where it was bared by her high coiffure. A shiver surged up her spine. Sliding his hands over her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. She was certain the heat from his hands branded her with his imprint. When the rose danced over the curve of first one collarbone, then the other, her pulse reached a crescendo. Charlotte placed her trembling hand upon his shoulder, arching her neck as he pulled the rose up the line of her pulse, along her jaw, and across her lips. Exquisite sensation flooded her as the sweet scent of the rose enveloped her. A tremor she couldn’t contain shook her frame. Before the tingle left her, he followed the path of the rose with his lips. He rained dozens of kisses across her collarbones and up her neck, as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wings.

  Pausing a heartbeat away from her mouth, he met her gaze. She was certain the desire evident in his eyes was mirrored in her own. Her eyelids fluttered closed when his lips brushed against hers. As excruciating as the torment of the rose petals had been, she was totally unprepared for the feel of his lips pressed against her own.

  His fingers slid into her hair while hers moved across his chest. After the initial gentleness, the pressure of his lips grew more urgent. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against him as he deepened the kiss. He parted her lips, and his tongue swept into her mouth. She vaguely registered his groan of satisfaction before all thought ceased.

  Awash in sensation, it took several moments for Charlotte to come to her senses. She slowly pulled away from him and pressed her fingers to her lips. She desperately wanted to stay with him.

  Forever.

  But since that wasn’t possible, she needed to leave before they went too far. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but he was so close. Her pulse raced, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Words were beyond her capabilities.

  Until voices sounded outside the door and a very inelegant word escaped her mouth.

  …


  Sebastian stifled an oath and moved to douse the candles, plunging them into darkness. He grabbed Charlotte’s elbow and pulled her behind the curtains. They were clasped together from chest to knees. Charlotte tensed when the murmur of voices filtered in from the corridor, and her hands trembled as she grasped the lapels of his coat. He put his arms around her and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

  His inability to see her heightened his other senses. Warmth from her body seeped through his shirt, and her hair tickled his nose as its lavender scent surrounded him. Every curve and turn of her body pressed against him. When she breathed deeply, her breasts brushed against his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt and his torture was complete.

  Cocking his head, he listened for any sign of activity in the corridor. Whoever was outside had moved on. He was about to suggest they return to the ballroom when Charlotte rose up on her toes and brushed a tentative kiss against his lips that traveled directly into his thundering heart. He teased the corner of her mouth with his tongue until she opened for him, and that was the end of his control.

  He slipped his hand down and cupped her breast, rubbing the already taut peak with his thumb. She moaned softly and pushed against his palm. Reaching up, he pulled at the sleeve of her dress, freeing her breast to his touch. Charlotte moaned again and touched her hips to his, causing a certain part of his anatomy to protest against the confines of his breeches.

  He pulled her skirts out and thrust his thigh between her legs, the heat of her core quickly penetrating to his leg. While his fingers played over her nipple, he marveled at the way she instinctively rubbed herself against his thigh. He moved his leg up and down in rhythm with her movements. As her breathing grew more ragged, he squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and was rewarded with a louder moan. He set a pattern of squeeze and release that matched the rise and fall of his leg. She gasped, her back arching as she shuddered. He captured her mouth to cover her shout and cursed the darkness that hid her reaction from him.

  He gently lowered her to the floor and helped her right her gown. As his skin cooled and his breathing calmed, he was glad of the cover of darkness. It hid his disgust. He’d never lost control like that before. What had come over him?