by April Moran
"I didn't encourage you to challenge me…and I did try to give you the win.”
"I would not have claimed victory if you gifted it to me upon a silver plate. But, I would have given you the kiss no matter who reached the tree first,” Ivy admitted.
Charmed by her unexpected playfulness, Sebastian seized his prize as soon as her face lifted to his.
At noon, they reached a large meadow dotted with sweet yellow flowers and inhabited by a herd of black and white sheep and several new lambs. A low stone fence covered with wild red and white roses enclosed the meadow with a rustic wood gate providing entrance. Sebastian indicated an old trail led into the woods on the backside of the field and they would follow it after lunch.
At the top of the rise stood a small grove of ancient oaks and while Sebastian took care of the horses, Ivy unpacked their lunch, setting everything out on the edge of the shade trees.
“Annie is absolutely wonderful,” Ivy exclaimed. “Look, she had Chef include strawberry teacakes. My favorite.”
“The teacakes were Annie’s idea.” Sebastian grinned, plopping onto the grass beside her.
“And the wine?” She held up a bottle, brow raised at the inclusion of the beverage.
“Mine, of course. I intend to get completely intoxicated so you are better able to take advantage of me. You may have all the lemonade you desire.”
Ivy giggled. “And if I prefer wine instead?”
“We’ll work something out.” He winked.
Chef had also packed thick, salty slices of ham, fluffy biscuits, and a mixture of cut up fruit. Pickled cucumbers provided a tart compliment to the salted meat and the teacakes were a sweet finish to the meal. While they ate, a small herd of sheep ventured close, the baby lambs curious to explore the strange creatures invading their meadow. The sweet little dears wobbled closer until finally, Ivy got upon her knees, stretching a hand to touch the wooly softness of one bi-colored lamb. Tottering forward, it collapsed in her lap, a tangle of spindly limbs, as its mother watched, ready to take action if necessary.
“You darling thing,” Ivy crooned to it as Sebastian refilled their wine glasses. “I've never touched one before. It's so soft.” Ivy took a sip of wine then set the glass down in the grass so she could better cradle the lamb. Gazing out over the meadow, her expression turned wistful. She was silent for a few moments then sighed. “I do wish we could stay at Beaumont forever.”
"The endless balls and soirees in London no longer hold any appeal?"
"I enjoy the dancing, but usually not the company.”
Grimacing with mock pain, Sebastian held a hand to his heart. "You wound me, love. I thought the times we waltzed were as precious to you as they are to me.”
Ivy lightly slapped his arm. "I am not referring to you and you well know it. I’m sure I appear quite besotted by your attentions. Anyone with eyes could see I despised dancing with anyone other than you.”
Sebastian could not stop the flash of memory from the last ball they attended, when he so grimly watched from the shadows while Ivy whirled in the arms of countless men. Jealousy - bitter and ugly - darkened his features. Thankfully, Ivy did not see it as she nuzzled the lamb’s neck.
She’d been far from happy during those awful weeks of their separation, suffering as much as he. At the mercy of those who took advantage of her weakness and sorrow. Men like himself.
What would Ivy think of the ruthless plans he recently set into motion? He had carefully plotted to bring significant financial burdens to a particular set of predators. Those pursuing her at the Faringdon Ball deserved a great deal of discomfort, worry, and angst. Would the exhibition of her husband’s malice please her? Or disturb her?
Sebastian had neither forgiven nor forgotten those involved that night. While the gentlemen would not be completely destroyed, their losses would prove devastating. It would become blatantly obvious who orchestrated those monetary damages when the Earl of Ravenswood gained from their misfortunes. Sebastian did not desire anonymity. He wanted them to know. Only the future Duke of Richeforte danced beyond Sebastian’s reach.
Ivy laughed as the lamb softly butted her in the chest. She did not know Sebastian was engaged in a complete analyzation of that night once again, counting friends and enemies. Reluctantly, she untangled the baby’s ungainly legs, setting it in the direction of its bleating mother.
“It's breathtaking here. Like a fairy tale. Or a dream,” she murmured, watching as the herd gradually began to move away. “With all these roses, you would have held the advantage in London this past month.”
Sebastian reached for her hand. This grove of trees grew on a slight swell, making it easy to see much of the land stretched between them and the manor. The sun had burned off the early morning mist, and now, puffy white clouds drifted lazily across the blue of the sky. Combined with the light and dark greens of the grasses, the low, stacked stone fences, and the cascading profusion of red and white wild roses, the huge house far off in the distance resembled a work of art.
“You’ve never told me why you dislike roses so much,” he remarked quietly.
Ivy ducked her head. “I don't mind them so much anymore. My previous aversion to them is difficult to understand.”
“I'd like to try.” Sebastian settled closer to her. “If you do not wish to…”
“No, I don’t mind telling you.” Ivy took a deep breath. “My father had the habit of sending roses whenever he and my mother were at odds. When she fell ill, and later, when she was dying, he sent them every day. Even if he was out of the country. Now, I understand what the roses meant. To her. To him. I used to think them a paltry, sympathetic gesture, something he sent from guilt. But I was wrong. Those roses gave my mother a measure of comfort and reminded her of their love.” She smiled at Sebastian. “And of his sorrow in his failings of our family. Every time he sent his roses, he begged Mother’s forgiveness and reminded her that he loved her. But, I only saw them as a symbol of death. Betrayal and pain. Loss.” Her aqua blue eyes sparkled with tears. “I don't see it that way anymore. Father explained how things were...and then there you were, with your endless bouquets, and I realized how silly I was for hating a simple flower. Especially knowing your own mother loved them too.”
“I'm very glad you changed your mind about them,” Sebastian breathed. “Because you are astoundingly breathtaking wearing rose petals and nothing else.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
“Scoundrel,” Ivy gave him a light push. “I won’t fall for it, you know. Not out here. No matter how many rose petals you might cover me in.”
“Pity. I must imagine you then, on this hillside, in the deep, green grass, blue skies overhead. White and red petals covering you, while I decide what to uncover and what parts of you to kiss.” His eyes blazed, sweeping her body with such heat her clothes should have caught on fire.
Ivy’s breath was decidedly quicker as she admonished him. “You, my lord, are wicked.”
“Hmm, one of my better qualities, don’t you agree?” Taking mercy on her, Sebastian reclined on an elbow to gaze over the countryside.
"Shall this be our residence when we are not in London?" Ivy asked a few moments later.
"Do you wish it to be?" He was still contemplating making love to her there on the hillside, thoughts of her naked firing his imagination. He knew she was worried about their return to London, but was unsure of its reason. "This is the closest of my residences to Town. I have an estate near the border of Scotland and a plantation in the Caribbean, should you ever desire to visit the tropics. As well as a small chateau on the southern coast of France.”
"Is this why you are brown all over? From visiting the tropics?"
"Why, my dear countess,” Sebastian teased. "Have you been peeking beneath the covers?"
Ivy's brow arched. "It's difficult not to notice when you refuse to wear a stitch of clothing to bed.”
"I did warn you our first morning here, remember?"
“You’re not answerin
g my question.”
He chuckled and with Ivy’s help, began packing up the lunch items. With everything gathered, she followed him to the horses and watched as he secured it all to the back of the back of Raven’s saddle. They walked down the hill to a second gate, the horses held loose by their reins. As they traipsed through the yellow flowers, the same lamb, which before sat so contentedly in Ivy’s lap, stumbled away from its mother. With a plaintive baa’ing it attempted to follow them, Sebastian and Ivy watching in bemusement before the mother ewe emitted a distinctively stern sound that made the little thing turn back.
After passing through the gate and remounting the horses, they turned to the path leading deeper into the woods. Sebastian resumed their conversation.
"Before I returned to London by way of Paris, I spent nearly a year at Rosethorne. If I was not working the plantation, I lazed the days away on the beach. You cannot imagine the color of the water, Ivy, it’s such a beautiful blue-green. Your eyes are nearly its exact shade, you know, and the sand is so white, it's almost blinding. It’s very hot, although it rains nearly every afternoon to cool things off a bit. When the sun sinks down over the water, it’s such a gorgeous sight, you wonder how God could create so many colors.”
Ivy’s head tilted as she regarded him with a contemplative eye. "How lovely. Still, it does not explain why you are so tan.”
Laughing at her determination, Sebastian confessed, "Because I swim as I sleep. The Caribbean sun is quite strong; it bronzes the skin quickly. The same would probably happen to you, my little English butterfly, ruining that rose and cream complexion of yours. I'm afraid you’d turn color of a walnut. Then I’d have to call you my little brown moth.”
"I would hardly be running about on the beach with no clothes on, Sebastian.” Ivy blushed. “Someone might see.”
Sebastian saw little sense in mentioning that he and his mistress spent hours cavorting on the beach and in the surf and no one ever violated that privacy. That other woman, he could not recall neither her face nor her name.
A silent promise was made in that moment to take his wife to Rosethorne one day. They would spend their days swimming, making love, on the soft white sand and in the jade green sea. All memories of any woman before her would be forever blotted out until only his butterfly countess existed.
"No one would dare intrude,” Sebastian replied softly, his eyes glowing with half-made plans. "And yes, we may reside here at Beaumont, if you wish. My parents did.”
"I would like that. We would be close to Lord Bentley and Sara after their wedding, should they choose to reside at Bentley Park. If you’ve no objections, I would like it a great deal.”
Bringing Raven to a halt, he leaned over to press a kiss to Ivy’s lush mouth. She tasted of tart strawberries, wine and cool lemonade. “You only need ask, my sweetness. I will grant your every wish.”
"I'm pleased to hear it.” The grin she gave him was cheeky. "For the moment, however, I shall settle for another kiss.”
Sebastian happily obliged.
Chapter 35
This corner of Beaumont was dense, almost primeval, with dark, cool woods and hilly terrain, but as the afternoon passed, even the forest’s coolness did little to combat Ivy’s discomfort. Removing the smart little jacket of her riding habit was necessary. Soon, even the long-sleeved shirt beneath became uncomfortably warm.
"Will you melt?" Sebastian asked. Sunlight filtered through the tree canopy and Ivy sighed with visible relief every time a shady patch appeared.
"I should hope not.” The heaviness of her apparel exasperated her. "I don’t know what Molly was thinking by not packing my summer riding habits.”
"We can go back if you like.”
“No, I'm enjoying this immensely.” She slanted him a glance. "If I rode in breeches it would be a great deal cooler.”
"And a great deal more dangerous.”
"Dangerous? For whom?”
Sebastian’s brow rose. "For you. Myself. The mere thought of you in breeches does horrendous things to my sanity. I would ravish you before you stepped foot outside our bedroom. Should you make it downstairs or - God help me - outside, well, I have a vast appreciation for those I employ. To slaughter a man because his eyes lingered on you would greatly disturb me.”
Ivy waved her hand in disbelief. "You exaggerate, of course.”
He gave her an odd half-smile. "Do I?"
Unfastening three ivory buttons on the delicate shirt, she closed her eyes in delight when a slight breeze discovered the newly exposed skin. "Nevertheless, were it any warmer, I would happily risk your displeasure to defend the poor servant, whomever he might be.” Smiling, eyes still closed, Ivy swayed in cadence with Spring’s even gait. “I’d visit you in the Tower before you swung for murder and plead very prettily for your life.”
When no response came, her eyes opened to see Sebastian leaning forward in the saddle, his gaze bright with speculation and riveted on her bare skin.
"I have the solution.” He grinned.
"Unless you’ve an extra pair of breeches and a shirt hidden somewhere, I fail to see this situation improving. I cannot believe how warm it is. We barely had a spring.” Ivy squinted up at the sun from under the brim of her hat.
"My intention is that you remove articles of clothing. Now, the path is around here somewhere...” Sebastian studied the trail ahead, considering trees and the vegetative twists in the overgrown path. Ivy watched in bemusement as she rode silently behind him.
A gnarled, century-old oak tree with low, sweeping branches brushing the ground grew about twenty feet from the path, served as the landmark for their unexpected detour. "Come along,” he directed, nudging Raven into the overgrowth.
Ivy gave Spring her head, allowing the mare to delicately pick her way through the soft underbrush and knee-high dark green grass. "Where precisely are we going?"
"You'll see.”
They passed the huge oak, the terrain growing steeper the further they ventured into the forest. Very soon after locating the trail Ivy heard rushing water. The mare’s ears pricked up in confirmation just as the woods opened to reveal a wide stream. It did not seem deep but the water plunged from a much higher rise of huge rocks and boulders, the fall creating a crystal clear pool which appeared bottomless. The stream meandered to the banks, snaking between larger boulders gleaming ghostly white in the sunshine. The water was quite shallow and gentle around the boulders then gained momentum to tumble noisily around the bend. Where it flowed from there was beyond Ivy’s view.
A mixture of elms and river oaks hugged the banks along with clumps of wildflowers and lilies, the blooms a mixture of buttery yellow and white. In a broad swath of sunlight, a bleached sand beach stretched like a glittery ribbon. A few of the boulders in the middle of the stream were flat enough for two or more people to climb up and lay on.
Ivy slid from Spring’s back, giving Sebastian a pleased smiled. "You own a magical, secret water garden?”
"I’ve heard it said fairies cast love spells from such places. This looks as though such creatures might reside here, doesn’t it?” Dismounting, Sebastian took the reins from Ivy’s hands to lead the horses a few feet downstream. He allowed them to drink their fill before tying the mounts to the low branch of an oak. As he removed the saddles, he glanced back at Ivy. "I thought you would want to wade in the water. Take off your boots, sweetheart. There’s no one to see you other than myself.”
“I couldn’t possibly…” Ivy stammered.
The heat in Sebastian’s stare interrupted her protest more than his response. “Of course, you can. Take off your boots.”
Dropping to the soft grass, she did as he asked then ventured into the water, the coolness of the stream swirling around her ankles eliciting a sigh of pure pleasure. "Oh heavens, that feels good.”
Sebastian chuckled, tossing his own boots aside. A second later, his shirt landed on a low tree branch, his fingers already working the buttons of his breeches.
"W
hat are you doing?" Ivy’s voice trembled.
“Cooling off. Remove your clothes too, Ivy.”
"You - you're going to be naked?" She squeaked. “Outside?”
"It is as remote now as it was when I last swam here. Do you recall my mention of a stream I hoped to show you one day? I promise, my vision did not involve you wearing so many damned clothes. Now, do as I say and remove that hot, scratchy riding habit.”
Toes wiggling in the stream’s sandy bottom, skirts bunched in her fists to keep them high above the clear, cold water, Ivy shook her head. "I'm feeling refreshed, thank you.”
Sebastian peeled his breeches off and Ivy felt pinned to the spot when he swept her with a heated glance, from head to bare toes.
It was so very hard to gaze at the blatant, male beauty of her husband without thinking of him making love to her. To recall the touch of his hand on her skin, thinking they might make love by this stream was dangerous. It was reckless, wondering what it might feel like to make love in the warm sunshine...
Her husband waded into the water then dove with graceful precision toward the emerald pool where the waterfall pounded and splashed the rocks in an unsteady rhythm. Ivy watched as he swam through the current, his golden shoulders bunching and lengthening with movement. Reaching the falls, he hoisted himself onto a submerged ledge. With the water hitting behind him, his head tilted back so it could drench him.
Tearing her eyes away from his perfect form was impossible. When he slicked his hair back from his forehead, Ivy admired the muscles rippling in his arms and along his chest. Spellbound, she stared as the water ran over the slabs of his ribs, down the muscled bisection of his abdomen, trailing in tiny individual streams across the chiseled leanness of his hips and thighs. Her face flamed hot and suddenly, the cold stream did not feel invigorating anymore. It felt surprisingly warm, as though the heat of her flesh somehow caused the water’s temperature to rise.
Sebastian shook his head, causing water to fly in glistening drops. "Remove everything but your chemise, Countess. Keep it, if you require some semblance of modesty.”
