by April Moran
Sebastian’s breathing turned harsher as if desperate to retain his self-control. “Surrender to me, Countess…and …do…not… make…a sound….” With each syllable, his finger plunged, pacing word to action, punctuating one with the other as he deliberately unraveled her.
His mouth fastened on a sensitive area where her neck met the curve of her shoulder. Even without the muttered order, Ivy was incapable of speech. His teeth held her in place, and she could only shudder. His thumb nestled into her folds, pushing against a hidden point of flesh so sensitive it seemed to be aflame and Ivy saw stars. Waves bore her upward, tilting madly before cresting unexpectedly. Dragged under, she felt herself plummeting, drowning and just as suddenly soaring, flying high above the earth and the heavens.
Despite the warning to remain silent, a choked sob of stunned pleasure escaped the walls of her lungs. In great defiance, it skittered about the foyer, the cry of fairy princess released from a dungeon, bouncing noisily off the gleaming stone floors and tall marble columns.
Sebastian swallowed the musical sound, crushing her mouth while the inner channel of her body pulsated and clenched his fingertip. With hard hands, he held her aloft when she sagged, his kiss one of restrained brutality. As seconds passed, as sensations throbbed over and through her in glorious waves, he abruptly shoved her against the wall. There was the vague realization of his free hand going to the buttons of his breeches. Ivy waited complacently, making no attempt to move away. She welcomed his ravaging kiss, meeting his tongue in innocent mimicry.
There was more Sebastian could do. He could join his body with hers; push into her until he filled her. If the silken steel rod confined by the Irish wool barrier of his trousers were to somehow come inside her, all sensations currently flooding her would be magnified a hundredfold. How she knew this, Ivy did not know, but she was acutely conscious of things as never before, her eyes suddenly opened. Whatever Sebastian wanted to do to her, she welcomed it. Whatever he wanted from her, she would give it. She ached for him…for it, whatever it was.
At the opposite end of the oval foyer, an elaborately gilded clock began to chime the hour. The melodious peals fired a volley of two cannonballs into the dark stillness. A death knell to a magical interlude.
Sebastian tore his mouth away. With the same hand used to intimately invade her flesh, her skirts were jerked back into place. A desolate moan at the sudden abandonment escaped before Ivy could swallow it back.
Knees wobbling with newfound awareness, her fog of lethargy disappeared as the cool air of the foyer invaded the warmth created by the closeness of their bodies. The earl…oh God, he had come dangerously close to making love to her. In her own front hall. And she would not have stopped him.
His lips brushed over hers. It was a gentle kiss redolent of regret and frustration, with nothing remaining of the heated passion moments ago.
Ivy hated herself for it, but she wanted the other, the wild, burning kiss that made her forget who she was. Clinging to Sebastian, she tried to find it while he disentangled himself, dragging her arms from around his neck.
“Good evening, Countess.”
Before she could jerk the scattered pieces of herself back together, before the delicious spasms within the deepest part of her had even subsided, Ravenswood departed in a swirl of black, the front door clicking with subtle finality.
Ivy slumped against the wall, fingers drifted up to her bruised lips. A sob escaped as she traced their tenderness.
Dear God. She would deny him nothing.
Chapter 8
The night he left Ivy standing in her foyer, soft and boneless from a rocketing climax, his neck warm from her breath, his fingers warmer still from her heat, Sebastian knew what he must do.
Distance. He needed to distance himself. At least temporarily. The taste of her mouth, the feel of Ivy in his arms, none of it was conducive to his plans of ruining her. Somehow, during their time together, during waltzes and suppers, and afternoon teas, he began regarding her in a different fashion. Not as prey, but as an incredibly desirable young woman he was developing an increasing fascination for.
The roads to Kent were in good condition and bore no reason for his delay this afternoon. Three broken harness straps on his matched gray geldings. Three. It was foolish to ignore his coachman earlier when the man protested pushing the beasts to greater speeds. Once the leather snapped, forcing them to limp to a nearby inn, the older man looked at Sebastian and simply shook his head in exasperation, as if to say, ‘I told you so.'
Sebastian did not elaborate on the reason for the breakneck speed he demanded. Instead, he barked orders to repair the damn harness quickly so they could continue on to Bentley Park.
Two weeks had passed since seeing Ivy, and his hunger was sharp. Time could not dull the memory of her smile, or the sparkle of her eyes when amused. Distance did not explain his inability to concentrate on estate matters. Or why the purchase of five racehorses paled in comparison to her lips and their sweet taste of oranges and honey. Even when he worked to the point of exhaustion, images of her silky flesh filling his hands crept into his dreams every night, denying him the black oblivion of sleep. His thoughts overflowed with her and Sebastian hated that fact almost as much as he knew he should hate her.
“Remember Timothy.” The mantra was often repeated. Revenge was a messy, ugly business. Glowing eyes and sweet, sweet lips should not sway him.
Two hours idle waiting on repairs ought to have provided additional time to steel his resolve. It only allowed his emotions to simmer. Reaching Bentley Park, Sebastian’s temper seethed just below a deceptively calm surface.
It mounted by degrees when Ivy was unseen among the sixty guests gathered at the estate. Hot, dusty, impatient, Sebastian straddled a razor’s edge to see her. The irritation experienced when she was not immediately available to soothe his senses was vastly disturbing.
Inquiries revealed her location on the west lawn where several guests gathered to try their hands at archery. Sebastian nearly sprinted down the oak-shaded lane toward the range until, with a muttered curse, he forced himself to a more dignified stroll.
Gathered in the slope of a small valley, a group of brightly dressed gentlemen and ladies mingled. Ivy and Sara stood at a marked chalk line, holding bows notched with arrows. A young man, slightly pudgy and earnest of face, hovered at Ivy’s side. She listened intently to him, brow furrowed in concentration.
Alan, watching the girls with a slight frown marring his brow, caught sight of Sebastian. Waving a hand in greeting, he excused himself from a cluster of men observing the proceedings with unusual interest.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian’s approach, but there was no smile of welcome. The line of her mouth tightened, her attention flicking back to Lord Kessler as he repositioned her fingers upon the string.
There was no ignoring the twist of excitement in his stomach, even with her obvious dismissal. It was damned difficult to tear his eyes away from her. Why did he stay away for so long? Whatever the reason, it was a mistake.
“Glad you could make it, Seb.” The two men shared a brotherly embrace. “I was beginning to think we might not see you at all.”
“Broke three harness straps. I stopped at the Red Lion for repairs.”
“Racing the Devil himself…that’s not like you,” Alan said before adding with a faint scowl, “now that you’ve arrived, you can assist in an important matter. I’ve not had a blasted moment alone with Lady Sara since her arrival yesterday.”
“You require my help in this, of all things?” Sebastian’s brow lifted. “You’re lord and master here. Arrange a rendezvous in the library or a drawing room. You’ve never had difficulties before coercing women into darkened corners.”
Alan’s gaze fixed on Sara while they strolled some distance away to discuss matters in a more practical manner. “Her oldest cousin accompanied the girls to act as chaperone. But where Lady Burkestone proves lax in her duties, Lady Ivy takes up the reins. And the
re’s a damn maid capable of snapping out of a dead sleep the instant I come within twenty steps. Between them all, there’s not been a single opportunity to make so much as an inappropriate suggestion. You will be a welcome distraction, for one of them at least.”
“I’m of no help with a bothersome maid.” Sebastian’s eyes snapped to Ivy when she laughed at something Kessler said. “And I cannot promise a miracle with Ivy.”
Alan shot him a questioning look. “She’s not once mentioned your name. Where the hell have you been? I heard you went to Scotland.”
“After four years abroad, my attention was required at my estates. And yes, I was in Scotland. Those racers I purchased were at Hawick and I went to retrieve them.” Sebastian nearly growled his response.
Bentley snorted in disbelief. “I’m glad you could forgo your responsibilities. For this weekend, at least.” Nodding toward Ivy and Kessler, he said, “She’s charmed everyone. Away from the Pack, out of London, and she’s a different person. Relaxed, and with a devilishly engaging sense of humor. Half the men here are mad for her. I don’t believe her fortune even factors into their affections, and there’s been no mention of that rather scandalous wager. Do you find that odd?”
“I don’t care if they are all hopelessly in love with her,” Sebastian’s expression was sullen. What had he lost during his absence? “I am pursuing her.”
The two girls both readied their aim and let loose the arrows. Sara’s landed close to the bullseye while Ivy’s arrow hit the outside rings. Several guests clapped. Kessler gave a hoot of admiration for Sara’s aim. In quick fashion, they notched a second round of arrows, and again, the young lord stepped behind Ivy, this time fitting his body to hers. Guiding the bow to a better position, he gripped her elbow, situating it slightly higher. When she drew back on the weapon, her wrist located next to her ear, Kessler’s mouth hovered there as he imparted advice.
When his hand drifted to casually rest on the swell of Ivy’s hip, holding her flush alongside him, fingers flexing tight enough to leave indentations on her silk skirt, Sebastian’s shaky temper reached a flashpoint.
“Bloody hell.” The curse whistled out before he could bite it back.
“Careful, Ravenswood,” Bentley laughed as Sebastian stalked away. “She is armed, after all.”
Even before Sebastian appeared on the hillcrest, with that fierce expression on his stern face, Ivy knew he had arrived. Maybe it was a change in the wind or the way the back of her neck prickled, the hair standing on end. An electric charge, like that the air carried just before a summer thunderstorm, rolled through her and she just knew.
He’s here.
Conflicting emotions swelled in her heart as Sebastian stalked down the hill, the breeze playfully tossing his raven-dark hair about. She wanted to run to him. Throw herself into his arms and beg him to never let her go. She wanted him to kiss her. Hear him say he missed her. And she wanted to strike him until his handsome face turned red from the heat of her palms. He should know he meant nothing to her and she did not care if she ever saw him again.
She did none of these things. When she threw Sara a helpless glance, she mouthed back a clear directive, “Ignore him!”
Swallowing her heart, which was for some reason lodged in her throat, Ivy did just that. She allowed Kessler to position her fingers on the bowstring, his instructions a meaningless drone in her ears. She could not even see the target. It blurred in her vision as all senses tuned to Sebastian. Alan greeted him, the two men walking some distance away for a low, murmured conversation. When Lord Kessler situated her for the second shot, she became vaguely aware of his hand applying a light but steady pressure just above the curvature of her hip.
Sebastian is coming. The air positively vibrated with waves of possession. Ivy fumed. Did he think he could reappear and his absence be forgiven? There wasn’t even a note explaining where he’d gone. It was only because of a conversation overheard between two women, former mistresses no doubt, that she learned he’d gone to visit a number of his estates before traveling to Scotland, of all places. Scotland.
The earl’s low growl held the power to freeze a lion in mid-pounce.
“Step away, Kessler.”
Scotland. I was forgotten in favor of the desolate barrenness of Scotland. Ivy swung about, the arrow leveled at Sebastian’s heart.
Kessler, a red flush staining the round cheeks up to the tips of his ears, scrambled a good ten feet away from her backside as a collective gasp swept the crowd. With a litany of choked curses, two gentlemen landed flat on the ground. Others simply knelt low enough to stay beneath the arrow’s range.
“Your assistance is not required, Lord Ravenswood.” She held Sebastian squarely in the bow’s sights.
An agonizingly long moment passed. Realizing their souls were safe, the two men hoisted themselves from the lawn. Sweeping bits of grass and dirt from their breeches with brisk slaps, they ignored ladies tittering behind upraised hands and tilted parasols.
“For God’s sake, woman,” Sebastian hissed, immobilized by Ivy’s unblinking gaze and steady aim. “Must I be sacrificed as a demonstration of your inexperience?”
Pinning him with a steely glare for a brief second, Ivy suddenly whirled, prompting another flinching wave to ripple through the crowd. The same two gentlemen, plus three more, dropped like stones.
With the barest of consideration, the arrow flew.
No one saw Ivy’s satisfied smile when the weapon hit dead center of the distant target with a satisfying thump. Sara’s muffled snort of amusement filled the astounded silence.
“I say,” Kessler said hesitantly. “I’m a far better tutor than I thought!”
Ivy lowered the bow. Everyone commenced to chattering all at once. The five men, rising to their feet, sheepishly chuckled amongst themselves. Alan, with an exasperated glance at Sebastian, brushed past to take Sara’s bow.
“Lady Sara, would you accompany me for a stroll around the lake? I’m sure your delicate hands need a respite and I, for one, would enjoy the exercise.” His joviality sounded forced when he turned to Ivy and Sebastian, now glaring at one another with enough heat to set the surrounding trees ablaze. “Lady Ivy? Will you join us? For propriety’s sake, of course.”
“An excellent idea!” Kessler exclaimed as Ivy silently ripped off the gloves protecting her fingertips. “I’m happy to escort you, Lady Kinley-”
“Like hell you will,” Sebastian snarled. Shoving past the man, he reached Ivy in two strides, yanking bow and gloves from her to toss them aside. She gasped at his rudeness while Kessler shot back as though scalded by hot water. Ravenswood’s open hostility froze the young man with uncertainty.
Not averse to digging heels into the gravel should her protection be required, Sara gave Ivy a wink and cheerfully stated, “It’s a foolish man that underestimates Lady Ivy Kinley, Lord Ravenswood. She’s full of surprises. Why, just last year…”
Sebastian and Alan exchanged glances, a subtle, mutual nod passing between them. Then Alan tugged Sara toward the distant lake, cutting off whatever else she might have said.
Three young women surrounded Kessler, insisting on gathering up the discarded items for him. Their conversation quickly turned to requests for tutorage in archery. Watching for a second, Ivy went to join them but found her arm within Sebastian’s unyielding grasp. When she tried to struggle free, he gave her an invisible, warning jerk and turned her toward the path.
Sara threw a distressed glance over her shoulder while Alan inexorably marched her at a quick clip until they were several paces ahead. In contrast, Sebastian walked slower than a snail as they followed behind. Not one of the guests seemed inclined to rescue either girl. Even Lady Burkestone, after a considering frown, turned back to the cakes and lemonade table set up in the shade of a huge oak tree. The banter of those at the archery targets faded as the gravel walkway bent and thick trees concealed them from view. Alan and Sara moved so far ahead it was assured all conversations would remain priva
te.
“You had no need of Kessler’s tutelage.” Sebastian sounded abnormally calm.
Ivy shrugged. “I’ve had instruction since the age of five.”
He looked as if he might grind his teeth to dust. “Why the charade? Do you enjoy tempting him?”
She frowned. “What, pray tell, is tempting about archery? I had no wish to embarrass Lord Kessler with my level of expertise.”
He snorted. “Why should you give a shilling about that?”
Jerking her arm from his grasp, Ivy’s pace increased until he gripped her elbow again. He pulled her to a stop while Ivy folded her arms to stare straight ahead. She would not look at him…not while he was being so damnably unkind.
“I asked you a question. Why should you care? About embarrassing him? He means nothing to you.”
It is obviously beyond your comprehension.” Ivy bit out.
“Try me. Although I find I am more curious why Kessler thought he could touch you. His hands were all over you…”
“Why do you care where he places his hands?” She hurled the words at him. “I mean nothing to you.”
“Do not play games with me, Ivy.”
Ivy wanted to throw her hands in the air in exasperation but she stood her ground. A strange spark flickered in Sebastian’s gaze as he stared down at her. He was turning her words over to find a chink in the armor he obviously did not expect. Did all his female conquests welcome him with open arms when he disappeared from their lives for weeks on end, without a word of explanation? If they so, they were weak, foolish chits with jelly for backbones. She felt sorry for the faceless women, suddenly afraid to be counted among their numbers.
“Some of the guests were discussing Lord Kessler’s lack of attributes when it came to outdoor pursuits. Lord Bentley mentioned the archery range, and I noted Kessler’s enthusiasm. I requested his assistance to bolster his confidence. And it worked, before you so rudely yanked me away. Three of those same ladies begged his assistance.” Her tone was acid sweet. “Whatever is the matter, Ravenswood? Jealous if you are not the center of all female attention? Are you that cruel to begrudge poor Kessler just a tiny bit of adoration from the fairer sex? You’ve more than a fair share of it, you pompous ass.”
