by April Moran
Taking a deep breath, Sebastian brought her hand to his lips, kissing it over and over, a man begging for alms. “I’m probably not making much sense, but I love you. Do you understand, Ivy? I love you, I can’t live without you. Hell, I cannot breathe without you and I’ve no wish to. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I cannot tell you how many nights I drank myself into oblivion, but even that was not enough to erase your memory. You haunt my every waking moment, you invade my dreams, my nightmares, and when I wake, I want you in my arms. Ivy, Ivy, damn it to hell, I’m in absolute misery without you.”
He leaned forward, breathing against her pale lips. “Please. Marry me….so I may spend the rest of my life taking care of you, spoiling you, cherishing you. Worshiping you. Adoring you. I want to make love to you. Have you angry with me, and then smile at me in forgiveness. I want to wake beside you so I can kiss you every morning.” A desperate kiss pressed to her mouth. He licked her bottom lip, soothing the cut Basford inflicted in his cruelty. “Marry me before I lose my mind. Before I go insane. Goddamn it, marry me because I love you, because somewhere, hidden deep down inside your soul, you still love me too. Marry me because the next time the world crashes down around us, I might be too late to save you and that would utterly destroy me.”
Ivy did not fall into his arms and confess her love in return. Tears streamed down her cheeks. A thin, brittle shell of ice encased her. His determined gentle tapping was hardly enough to shatter the frosty exterior.
“Dear God, don’t cry,” Sebastian whispered brokenly. “Don’t cry because of me, little butterfly. I cannot bear it.”
“Sebastian, do not ask this of me. Can’t you understand? Don’t you see? Someday, you will discover this is a mistake. Then, you will hate me for being your wife…” Ivy’s voice cracked. “What you feel right now, it’s not real. It’s not real. We both know you will change your mind.” She stiffened as his arms wrapped around her. He would not allow her to retreat behind a fortress of icy indifference. He trailed tiny, soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and her chin until Ivy squirmed in silent protest.
“I will spend the rest of my life proving how precious you are to me. You do not have to love me right now; it’s enough that I love you. In time, you will trust me again.” Cupping her jaw, tipping it until her distrustful gaze collided with his, his thumb rubbed the delicate curve of her cheek. “Say yes, Ivy. Let me protect you and take care of you.”
Ivy sighed, her eyes fluttering shut as his words entranced her. She wanted to give in. She wanted to so very badly. Sebastian kissed her again, and she moaned, a weakness within her that she must hate beyond all reason. She could not resist him forever. The opium laced laudanum made everything so much easier as he pushed his will upon her.
“I told you once I am a patient man and I’ll prove it to you, if you say yes,” Sebastian murmured, folding Ivy close so all she could hear was his heartbeat. He wanted her lulled into a warm cocoon of security she could not bear to give up. “I can wait for you to trust me. I can wait for you to love me again. Forever, if I must.”
Chapter 23
The dark blue topaz, the size of a bluebird’s egg, surrounded by a halo of diamonds and accented by a separate thin gold band weighed Ivy’s hand down. The Ravenswood heirlooms. Delivered from London on his orders and arriving by special courier just the day before.
The ceremony was brief but memorable, mostly for the sense of entrapment gripping her when Sebastian slid both rings onto her finger. His voice was steady when repeating his vows, hers trembling and weak – especially when she vowed to obey her new husband. Those words nearly stuck in her throat. When the minister declared them married, instructing the earl to kiss the bride, Ivy was faint from the contradictory flood of emotions bombarding her.
Ivy expected a quick peck on the lips, a perfunctory nod to tradition. Nothing prepared her for the searing possession of Sebastian’s mouth. His new status as husband evidently pleased him. His arms snaked around her waist, crushing her to him in full view of God and everyone. She endured it, breathing deep to steady her nerves when the kiss ended.
“Sorry, butterfly. I could not resist.” His amused murmur tickled her ear when he finally allowed her to glide away.
In the tiny vestibule, Jonathan Kinley pulled his daughter into his arms. With cheeks suspiciously wet, he said, “You are so beautiful, sweetheart. You look so much like your mother today.” Ivy held onto her father as long as she dared, until he stepped away, complimenting her gown. For a wedding dress, she wore her coming out ball gown from last season. The virginal white flattered her, but she could not help think how hypocritical it was to wear it. How far from virginal she truly was…
Sara flew at Ivy, embracing her fiercely, so overcome she both laughed and cried with happiness. Ivy gave her the small bouquet of red roses and sweet pea she carried while Lord and Lady Morgan offered their congratulations, politely hiding their curiosity for the full story behind this hasty wedding.
“You won the race to the altar after all, Ravenswood,” Bentley joked, placing a resounding kiss to Ivy’s flushed cheek. “With such a beautiful bride, who’s to blame you?”
“You are closing in right behind me, with your own lovely treasure.” Sebastian winked at Sara. “And you’ll be damned lucky to have her running your life.”
Just outside the chapel, Brody and Molly waited to greet the new couple, along with William, Sebastian’s rather somber valet. It surprised her Sebastian invited the two trusted servants, as well as his valet, to attend the private ceremony. As much as she hated to admit, it almost endeared her new husband to her. Brody, in particular, seemed befuddled by the earl’s invitation.
Accepting congratulations from the men, as well as Molly’s curtsy and quick embrace, Ivy was astonished by Brody’s announcement.
“We will be situated at Ravenswood Court, milady, before your return to London. Molly and I are grateful for the opportunity to continue to serve you.” A familiar, audacious wink accompanied the formal words.
Ivy turned an unconsciously tender gaze to Sebastian when he slipped an arm about her waist. “Is this true?”
“Yes, my dear. Jackson, our own butler, has hinted for years he’s ready for retirement. Your father had no objections to my stealing Brody away, and I believe no one better qualified to safeguard the front door of our home. You require a maid, so I obviously extended the offer to Molly.”
He knew it would please her to see two familiar faces in his household. To put forth such confidence in Brody when he exhibited such cheekiness was an admirable gesture.
Molly, never one to bottle her thoughts, piped up with a brash grin. “Right smart of milord, too. He’s doubled our wages! We’re happy to be comin’ with you, milady!”
Sebastian threw Molly an exasperated scowl, then taking Ivy by the arm he hustled her out into the morning sunlight.
Following the wedding breakfast, Sebastian and Ivy would depart for Beaumont. They would spend the next three weeks there before returning to London for the remainder of the season. Trepidation stabbed Ivy. She was married to the man striding silently beside her. His wife, his wife. The words repeated themselves in her mind. No need to be concerned for propriety’s sake, no need for chaperones or doors shut between them. Soon, she would be alone with him, with nothing to stop him from claiming what legally belonged to him.
“Having them at Ravenswood Court means a great deal to me,” she said.
“I did not bribe them. They were surprisingly willing to be at my mercy.” Sebastian grinned, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “They would have come if I only paid wages in the form of apples and walnuts. They are devoted to you. Your father was especially agreeable to the idea of Brody serving in our household. Once we came to terms on salary and benefits, Molly followed suit.”
“It was a lovely gesture.” Emboldened by his good mood, Ivy considered the best way to approach the subject plaguing her the past three days. She tossed and turned into the wee hou
rs of the morning, the faint circles under her eyes now its direct result. “May I speak with you? Privately?” She slowed until he came to a halt on the pathway.
“Of course.” Calling to the others, Sebastian waved his hand. “My bride requires a moment of my time and her slightest wish is my command.” His gaze lingered on Ivy’s lips and she knew he was thinking of later, much later, when they would be alone without bothersome interruptions and he could indulge his every wish.
Cursing the hot blush spreading across her cheeks, Ivy let him pull her to a white iron bench. In the shade of a young oak, there was barely enough room for two on the seat. The length of his thigh pressed to hers. She desperately inched away as much as possible. They sat quietly while she fretted over the matter until it finally blurted out.
“Bentley went to the Viscount Basford’s estate. You are looking for him, to set terms for this blasted duel.”
“Yes. I told you this would happen.” Sebastian’s response was affable, even as he gave her a glance glittering with a frightening darkness. “They’ve had a devil of a time tracking him down. Basford has decided avoidance to be the best defense.”
Ivy swallowed, meeting his cool silver eyes without blinking. “Please. Do not do this. Can't we forget that night occurred? Do you wish all of London gossiping why you challenged the viscount following our hasty marriage? Call it a wedding gift if you must. For me, for us. Only, do not go through with it.”
She did not realize she held her breath until he smiled. Kissing her hand, Sebastian’s warm breath sent unwelcome shivers quivering through her. That was simple. Too simple. Her heart thumped with relief as he regarded her for a long moment, as though deciding how best to respond.
“No.”
Ivy snatched her hand away. “It is beyond ridiculous. There’s no need for a duel.” What if you are injured… or worse? “Will you enjoy the gossips ripping us to pieces?”
“We should be used to it, but ours is a wildly romantic tale. We shall start a new trend, don’t you think? Elopements with friends and family sharing in the festivities. And whispers we were secretly engaged have already reached my ears.”
“You mock me,” she said stiffly because although the wedding was lovely and sweet and Sebastian seemed sincere repeating his vows, he forced this wedding upon her. To insinuate they were in love, after she endured weeks filled with such heartache, was more than Ivy could bear. Launching herself from the bench, she walked blindly in the direction of the house.
With a muttered curse, Sebastian rose, trailing a few paces behind. Hands clasped behind his back, he followed while she stomped like a furious Clydesdale. When she tripped on some loose gravel, he reached her in two strides to steady her.
Catching her chin between thumb and forefinger, Sebastian tilted her head, forcing her to look at him when she would have jerked away. “I’m not mocking you, but it must be done. Nothing you say, or do, will sway me from it.”
Ivy’s teeth clenched. “Ah! There’s the earl I know…in all his arrogant, heavy-handed glory!”
Sebastian, to his credit, only smiled benignly. “Compliments will certainly not change my mind. Now, shall we try and have a pleasant breakfast with our friends and family? They all wait for us, and I prefer to reach Beaumont before nightfall. Husbandly rights and all that taken into consideration.”
Their trunks were secured in a second coach. Goodbyes were now being exchanged. Sebastian feared his new wife might possibly change her mind when it came time to leave with him. She was pale as she and Sara embraced, sharing quiet words no one else could overhear.
“I would have found a way to destroy you,” Jonathan said, coming to stand beside him.
“I know.”
Jonathan would not have found success in bringing about justice for his daughter, but Sebastian would not have faulted his new father-in-law for trying. He married Ivy because he wanted to - not because he had to. Nothing anyone could have said or done would have forced him to it, had he not wanted her so badly for his wife.
“I hope I’ve done the right thing, not allowing her to refuse you. Considering the circumstances, there was little choice. She’s been so damnably miserable of late.” Jonathan hesitated before placing a fatherly hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “You will make her happy, won’t you?”
“I will. She doesn’t believe me, understandably so, but I do love her.”
Recognizing the sincerity of Sebastian’s somber declaration, Jonathan chuckled. “Your father and I once discussed the possibility of you two making a match. Your mother and Ivy’s dashed that idea rather quickly. Said their children should make their own choices in love. I like to believe they secretly hoped you would find one another.”
Sebastian smiled. There was satisfaction in learning his father would have approved of Ivy as his countess.
“Patience, Ravenswood.” Jonathan watched his daughter accept a fond embrace from Alan. “She’s a headstrong, determined creature. It is damned difficult to puncture that wall of indifference when she puts it up, as I well know. If you love her enough, and are patient enough, when that wall comes down, it will be worth it.”
Sebastian’s gaze slid over Ivy making her way toward them, a tiny grin lifting his lips. Neither she nor her father had any inkling of the incredible depths of his own determination and strength of will. “Don’t worry, Kinley. I love her enough. More than enough.”
Four hours alone with his bride, in the privacy of the coach stretched before them. A tantalizing situation. Once settled into the vehicle, Sebastian extended his legs to the confines of the space. Ivy’s lips tightened as she accepted his presence. It was obvious she wished he would sit on the opposite seat; however, those days were in the past. He would get as close as possible and he would push past whatever barrier she put up. No doubt, it would create a scandal, and it was unlikely he would be able to keep his hands off her, even in the presence of polite society, but he did not care.
Summer was almost upon them, the days already beginning a slow slide into the perfumed idyllic span of warm hours when those born to leisure turned to outdoor pursuits. The London Season would end and Society would retreat to their rural estates, escaping the oppressive heat of the city for refreshing green woods and sprawling fields. It was imperative their reappearance in London go smoothly. The rampant curiosity regarding their hasty elopement would either thrill or tweak the tongue wagglers, and any gossip would surely follow them to the countryside. Sebastian would not stand for Ivy to suffer any backlash. It was his responsibility to protect her.
Sebastian watched Ivy avoid his scrutiny, staring out the window as emerald green pastures gave way to thick forests. She was bone weary, exhausted mentally and physically, the events of the past few days weighing heavily on her, but determined and unyielding, she sat ramrod straight. Until the coach would hit a rut or hole in the road, dislodging her position on the leather seat. Each time she was thrown alongside him and righted herself, every time she emitted a small cry of dismay, Sebastian hid a smile.
Hitting yet another bump, the coach lurched sideways. Ivy jostled, her hand landing high on the inside of his upper thigh. Cheeks flushing pink with mortification, she tried to jerk away.
He ensnared her wrist. “No need to scurry away, love. I won’t bite.” Amusement colored Sebastian’s voice as he kept her pinned tight. “You are exhausted. Why not rest a while?”
Ivy’s glare dropped to her trapped palm pressed against his thigh. “I’ll not place my head there.”
His brow quirked. “I meant only for you to lay your head against my shoulder.” Giving her a sly grin, his gaze was warm and liquid when it rested briefly on her mouth. “Although, your idea has merit and would prove far more fascinating.” Ivy scowled until he relented with a sigh. “My shoulder, then. Should you change your mind, my lap is always available. And I shall remain the perfect gentleman. On my honor.”
She briefly resisted then with an abrupt exhale of defeat, slumped against him. All her energ
y seemed to drain away, sapped by the day’s events, the emotional strain of the wedding, and the previous ordeal with Basford.
Placing his back flush with the silk paneled sidewall of the coach, Sebastian stretched vertically along the length of the seat, moving Ivy until she sat between his legs, her back to his. His arm draped lightly across her shoulder and with rhythmic strokes, he rubbed her upper arm. A moment later, both hands moved to her shoulders; the stroking morphed into massaging caresses.
Ivy melted against him with a tiny moan of contentment, lulled by the magic of his hands. He rested his chin atop her head and angling his cheek against her hair, he breathed deep of its clean scent.
“Mmmm, you always smell so delicious. Like sunshine and spring.”
Ivy stayed perfectly still. Soothed by the warmth of the coach, the cadenced sway of it and her own fatigue, Sebastian realized she was drifting asleep. He moved until she was shifted onto her side, her cheek flush against his heart, his soul in danger of bursting with the tenderness his prickly bride evoked in him.
Chapter 24
Struggling to retain the pleasant state of drifting dreaminess with the jostle and sway of the coach soon became too much to ignore. Or maybe something else woke her.
Lifting her head, Ivy recognized the fire in the depths of Sebastian’s gaze.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice wrapping about her, stroking her, it seemed, from the inside out.
