by April Moran
Slanting Ivy a wicked grin, he seized her about the waist. “Why, Countess, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She gripped the reins even tighter, eyes flashing with determination she would not be plucked from the mare’s back. “You-you are running out of excuses to justify your despicable actions.” When his hands lowered, her sigh of relief was audible.
How amusing she underestimated the depths of his resolve to be alone with her.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the single stirrup of the sidesaddle was unfastened. Ivy’s heel slid free as the iron separated from the leather. Her mouth dropped open in horror.
“Go on ahead,” Sebastian called to the others, his eyes raised and locked with hers. He grabbed her ankle, preventing her from furiously kicking him in the chest. “This damnable stirrup has come completely apart. It will take more than a minute or two to repair it.”
Sara watched them in tight-lipped disbelief and for a moment, Sebastian believed she would gallop straightaway to attach herself to Ivy. But Alan quickly reached to take the lady’s mare by the bit, murmuring something before letting her go. With one last worried glance over her shoulder, Sara wheeled her horse around.
Sebastian flashed Alan a grin of thanks as the others reluctantly moved away from the spring. When the last of them disappeared through the meadow and into the thick of the woods, he turned to Ivy.
“Now that they’re gone…” Swinging her down in a flurry of skirts, he ignored her gasp of frustration, enjoying how she squirmed with the energy of an angry kitten. He did not release her even when her toes finally touched firm earth. Keeping her molded against him, one arm encircling her waist, his thighs pressed hard to hers.
While she was off-balance and struggling, he tipped her chin with the palm of his hand to claim her mouth with a voracious hunger. Ivy’s attempts to push him away continued unabated, and Sebastian allowed her to twist and writhe. When she finally stilled in defeat, he bit her lower lip, swollen pink from his kisses.
“Arms around my neck, Countess.”
Ivy scowled but did as directed.
Immediately the kiss melted to something soft and fluttering, rewarding her acquiescence to his stern command. Under the urging of his fingers, her riding jacket opened, the proper ascot coming unwrapped with alarming ease. The tiny pearl buttons of her lawn shirt slipped one by one from their moorings as though commanded by unseen forces. As the cool morning breeze drifted over them, he backed her into the concealing shadows of the grove until she was caught between the sturdiness of an elm tree and the warm hardness of his body. A low growl rumbled through him.
Time for the countess to surrender another piece of herself.
Sebastian’s hands skimmed past rows of petite ruffles lining her chemise, playing, testing, tugging at the silk ribbons holding it all together. The edge of the garment eased down, slowly, before Ivy even realized what was happening to stop him. His lips closed with unerring purpose over a rose petal nipple. God, never had he had tasted anything so sweet, so fine, as her soft flesh.
Ivy choked in surprise as his tongue swirled and licked her. Her gloved hands moved to his head, sliding through his hair. She may have thought about yanking him away. Her hands clenched in the soft waves with a sudden ferocity just as Sebastian, with a wickedness long ago perfected, raked his teeth over the hardening bud of her flesh.
It wasn’t fair. He knew that. She would forget to struggle, to protest. To breathe. As expected, Ivy drew him close. He held her nipple, caught fast between his teeth, and flicked his tongue back and forth over the contracted tip with a merciless intensity. With a moaning shudder, she pulled him even closer still.
It was heaven. Or, maybe it was hell. There was no guarantee such pleasure could continue forever. Ivy Kinley tasted of oranges and the freshness of spring. Damn, he couldn’t get enough and he feasted until her head tilted against the rough bark of the elm and she began arching into his mouth. Trailing his tongue over the valley between her breasts, Sebastian began anew with the other peak, savoring every nuance of her. When he pulled back, her eyes snapped shut with the sharpness of abandonment, and a sob of protest rang out in the little glade.
“Ivy.” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse. She was boneless in his arms, as if she was melting into him. If he must sell his soul to the Devil, he would do it, just to have her. “Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”
She focused on him, her eyes heavy, now more green than blue, the thick eyelashes sweeping across the upper curves of her cheeks. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each golden one. “Sweet, sweet Ivy,” he breathed, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “Christ, you are destroying me.”
Pulling off her riding gloves, Sebastian flung them to the side along with his own. He shrugged out of his coat and removed hers as well, tossing the garments carelessly to the ground. Taking her hands, he placed them on his midriff, silently telling her what he wanted her to do.
Ivy faltered, then slowly pulled his shirt free of the confines of his breeches, unfastening buttons until the hot flesh of his stomach was exposed. Drifting with purpose, her fingers smoothed the fabric aside. When she finally touched bare flesh, Sebastian’s groan vibrated through them both.
The dips and elevations of the muscles lining his abdomen seemed to fascinate her. She explored his ribs, the slabs of muscling constructing his back and bunching along the line of his broad shoulders. Her hands skimmed over his flat, dark nipples, a wordless murmur escaping her when they contracted to hardened points and stabbed at her palms. When she traced the swirl of dark hair below his navel with a fingertip, Sebastian’s teeth clenched so hard he thought they might crack. She was a witch. Driving him to the brink of utter madness.
He captured her wrist when she fumbled with the top button of the breeches. Filled with confusion and desire, her eyes lifted to his.
“Don’t,” Sebastian growled. “I won’t be able to stop if you continue…”
A light flared in Ivy’s eyes, a flash of understanding. “But you are so beautiful.” Her whisper was bemused wonder, her free hand gliding along the washboard of his stomach. “I want to touch you...”
A strangled laugh choked Sebastian. Making love in this unguarded, open environment was truly insanity. He needed privacy, the seclusion of a locked room to strip her bare and fill himself with her scent. Fill his mouth with the taste of her. Over and over until he was saturated in her.
With a reluctant sigh, he drew the chemise back into place. With her breasts covered, his thoughts became more rational. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are.” Ivy did not question why he covered her nudity. “I’ve never known anyone like you. I want to know why I tremble when your fingers are on my skin, why I cannot stop thinking of you, day or night. I cannot stop thinking of the last time we were together. I want so desperately to be angry with you, but I have missed you too much. Everything about this feels both dangerous and incredible. Sebastian, help me. Help me understand.” Standing on tiptoe, her mouth pressed to his neck, where the pulse beat so strong in the hollow of his throat. Almost hesitantly, she bit him softly, and then kissed where her teeth marked him.
It undid him, that sweetly wicked bit of a kiss. It ruined him, those heated words of a temptress and the teeth of a tigress. Groaning in surrender, he hauled her against him. Why waste words on the unexplainable? He would show her instead. Even if it was dangerous to do so.
He kissed her repeatedly until she was panting and frantic with need, clutching him, her body trembling. When he lowered her to the ground, cushioned by discarded riding coats and soft green grass, she went willingly. Her chemise was jerked down a second time, her breasts exposed to the cool air only to be consumed in the fiery heat of his mouth. Shoving the skirts of her riding habit high, his hands slid with unrelenting purpose between her thighs. For a sliver of a heartbeat, as on the night of the opera, she clenched against his touch.
Sebastian wait
ed, as he did before, his breath still, his hands still, his heart still. He thought he might explode, waiting, wanting, hating himself. Hating her for his vulnerability to this dangerous obsession.
Ivy relaxed, softening, melting, giving herself over to him. Her stomach quivered as his fingertips coasted through the soft curls at the juncture of her long legs. When his touch dipped to trace the center of her being, she exhaled a sigh of sweet welcome, shaking Sebastian to his core. He could not move, overcome with gratitude. This beautiful, enchanting creature belonged to him, if only for this moment.
Time stood unmoving, only dust motes dancing restlessly in and out of the broken sunshine. The muted trickle of water flowing in the shallow stream and their broken breathing filled the innumerable seconds, the chirping from a robin’s hidden among the elm’s branches creating a cadence backdrop.
“Do you want this, Ivy?” His hand collected her need, giving it back in slow, sweet glides that left her soft and damp. “If this continues, we will never go back to what we were before. Do you understand? Do you understand what I want from you?” If she told him to stop, he was unsure what his reaction might be.
Ivy arched into his hand in response. “Yes, Sebastian. Yes. Show me, tell me how to please you.”
Sebastian’s eyes flamed hot. Shifting his body, he braced himself up on one elbow to unfasten his breeches. He grasped her wrist, dragging her hand to the space between his thighs and although she appeared mystified, he did not let go until her fingers closed upon his solid length. The thrill of it threatened to unman him as he filled her palm, his flesh straining.
“Here, sweet, touch me here, like this.” Words filled his throat, choking him. The pleasure was excruciating. Soft and hesitant, her touch was an exquisite fire, her fingers quickly learning the shape and size of him.
This sweet innocence was a gift from an impressive arsenal. The façade was appealing, a welcome change from any other woman in his orbit. It made the game of pursuit and capture infinitely more stimulating. Ivy enjoyed it too. What else explained the flashing grin she threw him sometimes, the one that said, “Oh! Isn’t this fun?” whenever he won a kiss from her? What a treasure she was. Tailoring responses to a man’s enjoyment. Having never seduced a virgin before, he liked the illusion too much to destroy it. For now, he would play her games. Even if it were all a facade, unreal, it was still incredibly arousing.
When her touch became bolder, Sebastian’s hand drifted to the core of her body to resume his measured assault with clever fingers.
Ivy knew just how to squeeze him, when to stroke faster, and softer, all of it interspersed with a butterfly touch as she gently explored his straining erection. She possessed the delicate artistry of a skilled courtesan, but Sebastian feared he lost the conquest of the moment. She tied him into knots with her magical fingertips. He could not allow this. He must shatter her first. Her heart won by the conquering of the flesh under his hand.
The tempo of his fingers increased, swirling over and into her soft wetness as she mirrored the actions upon his body. He had no idea how close she was to climaxing until a muffled cry escaped her. The knowledge she flew apart on the tips of his fingers flung him over the edge as well. Groaning with satisfaction, he fused their mouths in a blistering kiss as the universe splintered apart in a kaleidoscope of sensation. Pleasure wound tight about them, stitching two imperfect halves together to form one unbroken piece.
An eternity passed before they drifted back to the cove of elm trees where a carpet of deep, fragrant grass cushioned their bodies and a lazy, winding stream sang so sweet.
Chapter 10
Molly settled a ball gown of deep green emerald silk over Ivy’s head. Cut square across, the harsh lines of the bodice dipped low before narrowing at the waist and flaring into wide, graceful skirts. Ivy ignored the matching satin gloves, hoping Sebastian would forgo the formal items as well. When he took her in his arms, she wished to feel his hands on her, skin to skin.
Swallowing past the catch in her throat, she wondered if it were possible no one saw the effects of the miraculous events of this afternoon. Was she not visibly branded in some way by Sebastian’s touch? She should be, after the liberties she allowed him. Only his discretion kept matters from progressing any further in the secret cove of trees today. He could have tossed her skirts and made love to her several times over. Beneath the onslaught of caresses, the burning, rough silk of his fingers, she practically begged him to do so. She wanted him to touch her, wanted his hands on her, around her, his fingers inside her.
Ivy shifted, an inarticulate sound of agitation earning a questioning glance from Molly as she placed matching slippers on her feet. How could she forget his choked groan of release and her own shattering response? She could not, for it seared into her brain. Somehow, that sleek, heavy part of him was supposed to fit inside her, the fluid expelled into her palm meant to be inside her. None of which seemed remotely possible. Sebastian’s finger barely fit, stretching her almost painfully, before a delicious sense of yielding overcame the discomfort when he stroked her. Something even larger burrowing into her body was unimaginable.
The discovery he had hair down there too, only much coarser and more abundant, amazed her. Ivy wondered what he looked like completely unclothed. Blast it, the entire interlude left Ivy with a litany of unanswered questions. If only her explorations could have continued. If only Sebastian had not seemed to tremble on the very narrow edge of his self-control. Perhaps, it was for the best things ended as they did.
That morning, after leaving her side and returning with his silk handkerchief cold and damp from the icy waters of the brook, she did not understand. Suffused with embarrassment, she allowed him to clean away the evidence of his passions from her palm. With gentle fingers, he refastened the buttons of her blouse and helped her to stand, tugging her skirts back to a decent state. His hand held her steady at the elbow when her knees wobbled. Retrieving their coats from the ground, he shook them out; muttering under his breath to discover the mud stains on his and the wrinkles on hers. Assisting her into the fashionable jacket, his palms smoothed out the creases with impassive firmness, over her shoulders, down her chest and her back while Ivy sucked in quick breaths of heated joy.
When he swung her onto the mare’s back, Sebastian had yet to utter a word directly to her, but his eyes, when Ivy stole a glance at him, glowed with the tiniest bit of victory.
This cursed infatuation left her achingly vulnerable, in danger of becoming one of his many conquests. Her calm prudence fled with distressing ease when she was with him, for he intoxicated her. The lateness of the hour nor too many glasses of champagne could not excuse her wantonness. Not this time. The admiring whispers of the women pursuing him, scrabbling for any crumb of affection tossed their way all made perfect sense. The realization should be chilling, now that she was one of their number.
But it did not. And probably would not. It would surely bring heartache, but she was in love with Sebastian.
A devastating diagnosis. If Sara’s glum prediction evolved, Ivy knew her ruination was imminent, and if his reputation proved true, the earl would quickly lose interest in her.
She had two options. Maintain a measure of distance from him, resulting in a state of absolute misery, or, revel in Sebastian’s attention and glory in the dizzying pleasure while it lasted.
Ivy sighed. Either way, when things came to their sad, inevitable end, she was doomed.
Sebastian smoothed his ebony-hued evening jacket, cursing softly under his breath. The failure to exploit Ivy’s flagrant invitation that morning had his nerves stretched taut as piano wires. He possessed the devil’s own temper since returning from the ride, snarling and snapping, earning curious glances and muttered whispers from others. His new valet, William, hired during his last trip to Scotland, was already accustomed to his employer’s turns of ill mood. The elderly man sidled out of the way as Sebastian debated the wearing of formal gloves, only to toss the things aside with a mutter
ed curse.
Why? Why did he not take Ivy? He ought to have parted her pale, creamy thighs, unbuttoned his breeches and slid deep inside her. At the very least, part of his revenge would be fulfilled. Ivy would be his. He could have had her, quenched his thirst for her. When he overcame her half-hearted resistance, she proved quite willing, damned near driving him crazy with that flirtatious exploration of his body.
The interlude by the stream was all too brief. Sebastian’s teeth clenched, remembering how he erupted within her silky grasp, every bit of it orchestrated with the finesse of a seasoned courtesan. It was damned difficult not to take her right there on the ground in a flurry of heated need and impatient lust. She knew he would not succumb to such temptation, but it certainly did not stop her from trying to manipulate him.
Soon, his moment would come to claim her. It would be at his leisure, with no threat of interruption and not on the hard, cold forest floor. In the privacy of a bedchamber, he would take Ivy Kinley as many times as needed; slake his thirst until she no longer fascinated him, taste her as often as he liked, over and over until she was out of his blood. He planned to make love to her until they were both wrung dry, sweat dripping from their bodies in mingled rivulets of passion. He would fall asleep to her sighs of contentment ringing in his ears. Then, he would roll atop her, kiss her awake and begin anew. She would be unable to escape. He would make damn sure she did not want to.
The smile Ivy gave Sebastian from across the room was so radiant, it pierced him like an arrow. Unlocking her arm from Sara’s, she waited patiently for him to come to her.
Alan stood closer to the two girls, claiming Sara quickly, lifting her off her feet in his enthusiasm. She laughed in delight as he twirled her before pulling her into a remote corner where they proceed to laugh and whisper to one another. Sebastian was further away, in conversation with Lady Caroline, but he abruptly excused himself as the lady shook her head in bemusement.
