by April Moran
Light from the late afternoon sun spilled through oversized windows, dancing about the large room to bath Sebastian in gold. He could be a pagan lord from another time, with his raised brow and wickedly sly smile. His fingers hovered over the fastening of his breeches and in slow motion, the buttons slid from their holdings, his eyes holding hers as the fabric shimmied down his hips and lower, revealing the vee-shaped indentations above his hipbones. When the breeches dipped past the point of indecency, Ivy gave a muffled cry, whirling to present her back.
A sharp bark of laughter echoed behind her. “It’s not anything you haven’t seen, or touched before.”
There were the rustling sounds of Sebastian redressing in fresh clothing. She heard him pulling back on his boots, the slide of fabric against fabric as he tucked the shirt into his breeches. Ivy closed her eyes, heart pounding, blood thrumming through her veins. As if a charge of electricity jolted her, she tingled from head to toe. The image of his chest, the ripple of muscles, the leanness of his hips as the fabric slid lower and lower. It all burned into her brain until she wanted to shake her head to dislodge it.
Sebastian gripped her shoulders, spinning her to face him. It startled her when he released her just as fast, stepping away as if he did not trust himself to touch her an instant longer than necessary.
“Sleep where you will, either my bed or in your own. But understand this.” He paused and Ivy swallowed hard, pinned to the spot by the heat of his gaze. “You have experienced the act of lovemaking twice. The first I forced upon you. The second, you were so damned intoxicated that I can’t imagine you remember much at all, although the night of the Faringdon’s Ball is forever burned into my brain. I know you found your pleasure; however, I assure you, the full experience of it, minus the fog of alcohol, is something you cannot comprehend. And you won’t, not until I show you.”
Wordless, pale, hating the memories crowding her mind, Ivy stared at him. Sebastian was wrong. She remembered. Every moment. Like a silky web, his words wrapped about her, holding her in place. A tiny victim waiting to be devoured.
“I shall convince you that my bed is where you belong. I will not force you. However, I will use every weapon I possess to persuade you. To draw you to me. To prove you belong to me.” Leaning closer, his face mere inches from hers, Ivy had nowhere to look other than his stormy eyes. “I will entice and seduce and tempt you until you surrender. Eventually, you will beg me to take you. You will beg to become mine in every sense of the word. You will beg to have me inside you, plead for me to taste you, to caress you, to discover every hollow and curve of your body with my tongue and fingertips…”
Swallowing hard, his voice dropped to a husky whisper, “While patience and desire war with each other, my temper is another matter entirely. I would never physically hurt you, nor could I bear to seek another’s bed, but I am merely a mortal man. Not a bloody saint.” Sebastian brushed past her, jerking the door to the suite open. Giving her body one last scorching sweep of a glare, he exited, slamming the door with enough force to shake it on its hinges.
Ivy involuntarily jumped at the violence of his departure, tears stinging her eyes. His voice echoed from the hall, barking orders at the little army of servants gathered there before his angry footsteps stomped away. There was no time to regain her composure before the door cracked open to reveal Annie’s weathered face.
Moving to the window, Ivy stared blindly over the perfectly landscaped grounds, not wanting the housekeeper to see her tears.
“Milady?” Annie let herself in, motioning for Lizzie to enter as well. Two footmen hovered in the hall, waiting to see if the trunks would find a home in the countess’ apartments or be left in the middle of the earl’s bedchamber. They whispered to each other.
“Still slamming doors,” Annie chuckled, bustling about the room, retrieving discarded clothing and the used towel. “Drove his mother to distraction, it did, God bless her. Don’t you go bothering your lovely self about it, my dear. Milord doesn't hardly mean anything by it, and I vow, when you see him next, he’ll have forgotten why he was banging things about in the first place.”
Ivy stared at the housekeeper over her shoulder, choking back a laugh when Annie gave her an audacious wink.
“Ah, a smile. That’s better, it is.” The older woman grinned. “The best way to keep a man’s interest is give him a reason to slam a door. “Giving a man something to slam doors about is the best way to keep him interested.”
Chapter 26
Sebastian poured a healthy splash of bourbon into a tumbler and swallowed it in one gulp. He poured another.
Then another.
Gabriel watched impassively, brown eyes flickering with amusement. While Sebastian sipped the third ration, he acquired his own, and glass in hand, took a seat in one of the oversized leather chairs situated in Sebastian’s study.
The earl paced before the fireplace in agitation.
“I assume milady has not adjusted to the idea of being your countess,” Gabriel remarked dryly. “Or your wife.” He amused himself by counting how many times Sebastian completed the pattern on the expensive rug.
Sebastian halted just long enough to throw a black scowl at Gabriel. The stalking resumed for several more minutes before he flung himself into the chair behind his desk. “Damned if she’s not going to drive me to drink.” The two men, in a masculine salute to exasperating femininity, clinked glasses across the massive desk.
“A wifely duty, some people say,” Gabriel noted.
Sebastian sighed, frustration with his reluctant bride easing a bit as the bourbon unknotted him. It had been a long day. Restraining his desire would surely test the limits of his sanity from time to time. Raising the glass to examine its amber-hued contents, he said, “I hope to not make this a nightly habit. I’ve done too much of drinking lately as it is.”
Gabriel chuckled in agreement then turned to a more serious subject. “Basford has yet to appear in London. Indeed, his family is most tight-lipped regarding his absence. They’ve spread the tale that the viscount was seriously injured in an accident outside the city and now recuperates in an undisclosed location. To better facilitate his recovery.”
“Alan has been to Basford’s estate twice. His staff claims he’s not in residence. Perhaps he is at a smaller family estate elsewhere.” Sebastian toyed with the cut glass tumbler held loosely in his hand. “We’ll need to determine for ourselves if he is indeed holed up in Staffordshire.”
Gabriel grimaced. “I thought you might say that. I have a man watching the estate. You still intend to go through with the duel?”
Sebastian hesitated, his first instinct to say yes. He was quickly realizing the reluctance to disappoint Ivy. She made no secret of her disgust with his methods of dealing with her abductor. “I am not sure. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to persuade him to leave the country instead. Although I must admit, I have relished the idea of killing him.”
“No duel and you find yourself in milady’s good graces, is that it?”
“An avenue to consider. The countess has no wish for the duel to take place. Much depends on Basford himself…he must be agreeable to leaving.” Would Ivy be pleased? By this restraint? Sebastian considered her assertion a duel would create a scandal, casting a shadow on their new marriage. He did not wish her touched by any hint of gossip. It was very hard to admit, but maybe she was right. “It may be the best course, as much as I am loath to concede my wife’s good sense in pointing it out.”
“It appears in a few days we shall travel to Kent in search of the elusive viscount,” Gabriel stated jovially. “But for now, a toast to celebrate your discovery of such an intelligent woman. How you managed it is a true mystery.”
Dinner was strained, but eventually, the conversation settled into a safe discussion of Beaumont and its history. Neither Sebastian nor Ivy mentioned the contentious incident earlier that day.
Ivy wore a gown the color of dark gold doubloons, the shade accenting the chestnut of her
hair and deepening her eyes to a shade of luminous green. The hue favored her, drawing attention from the fading bruises on her wrists and the purple welts in the shapes of fingers on her upper arms where Brandon gripped her so tightly.
Sebastian’s eyes touched on the marks. Their presence seemed to disturb him. Did evidence of another man’s cruelty serve as a reminder to restrain his own? But she needn’t worry. Annie's prediction proved accurate. The earl was attentive, charming and one would never guess their exchange of harsh words only hours earlier. Ivy nervously toyed with her dinner, drinking far more wine than she intended. If he noticed the tendency for her glass to be filled often, he did not comment. Their conversation remained agreeably neutral, more like their old exchanges before the terrible night that ruined things between them, changing their relationship into something hurtful and dark.
"Tell me of Gabriel,” Ivy prodded when the final course of cherry tarts and fresh clotted cream was served. "He is very intriguing. How did you come to meet him? How does he owe you his life?"
"It’s not a very noble story, I’m afraid. We met in a rather disgusting alleyway behind a house of ill repute in Paris.” Sebastian held up his hand at her opened mouthed surprise. "I was merely playing a game of cards with an acquaintance of mine when a disturbance took place. It seems a woman had been ill-treated and Gabriel came to her defense. He and the lout abusing the female were tossed from the establishment. And as these matters usually go, the troublemaker, along with three of his friends, decided to take their displeasure out on the one deemed responsible for their removal.”
Sebastian frowned, remembering the scene that night. "It hardly seemed fair to allow the four of them to beat one man to death so naturally, I stepped in. Although Gabriel was holding his own, he would not have lasted much longer. They nearly got the better of him. My friend was always ready for a tussle, so he and I easily routed three of them. Drunk as they were, it was really no contest. But Gabriel and the initial agitator were locked in a struggle far beyond fists. The other man had a knife and was atop Gabriel, trying his damnedest to slit his throat. I grabbed the first thing I could find, a piece of wood from a rubbish pile. Knocked the scoundrel over the head with it. When the others saw their companion was unconscious, they scattered.”
"Then you cared for Gabriel and his injuries.”
"He was in terrible shape. Busted ribs, broken nose. He’d suffered several stab wounds, and his eyes were swollen shut.”
“Is that where he got the scar?” She leaned forward in her chair with barely concealed excitement. “The one on his forehead?”
Sebastian grinned. “No, that he already possessed. And I never had the courage to ask how he obtained it. But, getting back to the story, had I left him in that alley he most likely would have died. I took him to the chateau I was leasing at the time, called in a physician to patch him up. I tasked a few servants with tending to his needs and went about my business. A couple of weeks passed before my guest recovered enough to remind me of his existence. He was an Englishman, the bastard son of a nameless lord who saw fit he received an education and the scratch to make a start in the world, but little else. Gabriel had no one. No family, few friends. In exchange for saving his life, he vowed to serve me, although I assured him such devotion was entirely unnecessary.” He shrugged as the tale came to an end, "Gabriel has been with me more than five years. I consider him as close a friend as Alan. Indeed, they are both like brothers to me. The man’s loyalty is unquestionable.”
Ivy swirled the wine in her glass, considering this side of her husband; the compassionate nature which did not hesitate to come to the aid of an unknown man. She knew of few in their social circle who would dare do the same, placing their blue-blooded necks at risk for someone they did not know, much less someone of a lower class.
"Why have I not met him before today?” A yawn was stifled behind her hand. The wine and the soothing tone of Sebastian's voice left her relaxed and drowsy.
“I’ve kept him very busy with important matters.”
“What important matters?”
He chuckled, helping her rise from her chair. "That is none of your affair, my curious little wife. Now, you are exhausted and understandably so. It’s been a long day. Much has occurred since this morning when you first woke.”
Ivy leaned into him, yawning again. Their wedding seemed to have happened a century ago. He’s so warm. I wish his arms were around me. I wish he would hold me. I wish… She wanted to feel secure. Loved. In a rational portion of her brain, she knew her fatigued state and the wine she consumed left her vulnerable to such dangerous sentiments and tender emotions. Still…she wanted his arms wrapped tight about her.
"You are right, of course,” she conceded. “It’s been a long day.”
"Will you find your way all right?"
"Yes, thank you.” As difficult as it was to ask the next question, she had to know. She tried her best to sound nonchalant. "Are you retiring too?"
"No.” Sebastian smiled. "My head won’t find a pillow for a while. Sleep well, Countess.” Pressing a quick, cool kiss to her unsuspecting lips, he left her standing alone in the massive hall.
Sebastian made his way to bed and only then because he was utterly exhausted. He attempted to work on some neglected estate accounts, but the figures merged and swam. Adding the same column incorrectly for the third time, he conceded it was time to retire.
A lamp burned on a table in the alcove next to his bed, the low light casting dark shadows. Sitting on the blue tufted bench, he tugged off his boots, tossing them to the side. He gave William leave of his duties for the next few days, so he managed his own disrobing.
It was bizarre, he thought, sliding between the sheets. Ivy's distinctive perfume lingered within the bedchamber. With tired bemusement, he wondered how he would keep from dreaming of her when her scent surrounded him. Especially tonight, their wedding night, for God’s sake. It seemed unfair to spend it alone.
Settling against the pillows, Sebastian threw an arm over his eyes. A sigh of pure exhaustion escaped him. He stretched, yawning, and as the softness of the bed enveloped him, the awareness he was not alone seeped into his consciousness. A sleek figure, with skin scented of oranges and lilies and smooth as silk, wiggled close.
Ivy was in his bed, a tousled, sleeping ball of warmth. Like a kitten seeking a cozy spot, she instinctively rolled from the far side of the mattress, curling next to him, her hand resting on his chest. She wore a cloud of a nightgown, the muslin fabric sliding against his bare skin as she burrowed close to his heat. Pulled into a fat braid, her hair lay across her shoulder, and if he wished, he could grab that silken rope; use it to tug her to him, to hold her still while he devoured her.
Remaining on his back, Sebastian shifted his arm to wrap it about her. Her sleepy sigh of contentment melted him, a sense of fulfillment and peace seeping into his bones. It had nothing to do with desire or lust. He treasured holding her. Drifting off, he realized he’d never fallen asleep with a woman in his bed without first making love to her.
What a novel experience.
Chapter 27
Sebastian faced her, stretched on his side. One arm lay tucked beneath both his head and the pillow, the other rested possessively in the curve of her waist. The weight of that arm held her prisoner, but Ivy did not mind. It was a perfect opportunity to examine him. An unforeseen gift, she mused, her gaze drifting over his features. Her husband’s face was softened in slumber, his eyes hidden behind lush, black eyelashes thick enough to make any woman jealous. The sensual fullness of his lips and the high curve of his cheekbones were complimented by eyebrows dark and full like a raven's wings. She almost reached up to trace one before reminding herself to remain still, altering her breathing to light, shallow breaths so he would not realize she was awake.
His chin bore a dark shading of stubble. He would need a shave soon. Would he ask her to help with that, or would his valet always take care of such things? Did wives typically assist
with such things? Ivy’s eyes dropped to his chest. It was bare, a rippling expanse of hard, bronzed vastness much wider than she remembered. It beckoned exploration, calling her to outline the rigid, dark points of his flat nipples so different from her own, the skin stretching in gleaming sheets over bundles of sinew and flesh.
A vee of rough black hair commenced below his navel before trailing off to destinations better left uncharted beneath the edge of the coverlet. The fabric lay pinned to his waist by the position of their bodies, and for the briefest of moments, Ivy considered tugging it free. Lean muscles lined the slabs of his abdomen along with a long, thin scar, pale cream in color. It snaked across the lower part of his rib cage. Barely noticeable in the dimness of the room, it was damage a rapier or a knife blade might leave. Duels were practically a gentleman’s hobby in France and England. Ivy wanted to trace the length of that scar, to gently press it with her fingertips, as if she could heal any residual pain with a simple touch.
The faint laceration was a sobering reminder of the confrontation Sebastian wished to undertake against the Viscount Basford. Ivy shifted slightly in renewed distress with the thought. Her movement dislodging his arm a fraction of an inch from the curve of her waist and she realized he was awake.
He watched her, the strangest expression stamped across his features. Ivy considered flinging herself from the bed before forcing herself to relax. She had placed herself there of her own accord; she would not flee. As sleep dissipated and desire sparked in Sebastian’s gaze, her chin tilted.
"I'm curious how we came to be in this particular situation. Especially when I recall your strong feelings on this subject yesterday afternoon.” Propping himself up, Sebastian rested his head in the palm of one hand, the other still locked around Ivy's waist. His grip tightened, drawing her closer until mere inches separated them. "Well?" His voice was rough with restraint. "I eagerly await your explanation.”
