“Go back to bed,” Margaret urged her. “I’ll send for you if Creighton doesn’t quiet for me, but of course, he will quiet for his aunt Margaret. I’m his favorite aunt, after all.”
Penelope gave her a weak smile. “You are his only aunt.”
“See? Now don’t argue with me and go get some sleep.” She pushed Penelope toward the stairwell but then realized what she was doing and stopped. “I’m not sending you away because I don’t want to be with you! Oh, Penelope. I am so sorry. I never meant—”
Penelope put her hand up. “I am more than happy to be shooed away on this occasion. You will send for me if he seems overly warm?”
“Of course,” Margaret reassured her. “And, Penelope?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.” It was about time Margaret acted like a proper sister-in-law.
“You are quite forgiven but as I am your dearest of friends, tomorrow I will be feeling quite myself again, and I’ll likely demand that you tell me exactly what you were doing in Rockingham’s chamber.”
And with that, Penelope disappeared into the stairwell.
“You’re certain this is the place?” Margaret stood with her hands on her hips as she perused the wide swath of grass and wildflowers all around them.
Sebastian was already pacing methodically over the grass, head down, his gaze scanning the ground for the ring. The ring that had been in his family for nearly three centuries. When he paused to glance over at her, he couldn’t help but appreciate how the breeze caught her gown, giving him glimpses of her lush figure. “Fairly certain.”
In all honesty, he hadn’t paid close attention to their surroundings. He’d been somewhat distracted at the time.
“How much do you think it is worth? The ring, that is?” She was walking bent over and despite the pounding in his head from too much drink last night, Sebastian paused again, this time to enjoy the pleasant view of her heart-shaped derriere.
She turned around and seeing where his gaze had settled, narrowed her eyes. “Sebastian? Do you have any idea how much the ring is worth?”
Oh, yes. The ring. Likely she wouldn’t want to hear the answer. But of course, it was a part of the collection gifted to one of his ancestors before the gentleman fell out of King Henry VIII’s favor. The king had demanded the gift returned and Sebastian’s ancestor had declined. He was beheaded shortly after.
Sebastian would omit relaying such information to Margaret. She was already quite worked up about the damned thing. “It is, ah… priceless.”
Margaret winced and renewed her efforts. “I was afraid of that!”
“You needn’t have the ring, you know, to break off the betrothal.” Although, he did understand how it might be a smidge awkward. In addition to that, his uncle was already experiencing fiscal troubles.
Sebastian frowned. Surely, Uncle George would not use the loss of the ring to force her hand? Sebastian focused on the ground, redoubling his efforts.
“You never answered my question,” he commented after they’d both been searching for several minutes.
“What question?” She arched her back. “It would be easier, I think, to crawl around on the ground but I cannot do so because of my gown. Perhaps we are missing it. The blades of grass might be covering it now.”
“The one I asked you last night in my chamber… I asked if you thought that the two of us, together, would be good.” He dropped to his knees and began crawling over the section he had just walked, allowing the grass to slip through his fingers. “Hitch your skirt up and get down here and help me.”
She scowled at him. “Together how? That would be absurd.” He wasn’t sure exactly which of his suggestions she was saying was absurd, but it was likely the first because she then lifted her skirt just enough to allow the briefest glimpse of very pretty ankles and calves and knees before she dropped to the ground on all fours.
He crawled in her direction, feeling predatory, and before she could stop him, in one swift motion, flipped her over so that she lay on her back, staring up at him so that he saw every fleck of green in her eyes from where he hovered above her.
She protested weakly and then laughed. But when he pinned her hands to the ground above her head and lowered his body onto hers, the laughter died on her lips.
“Not absurd,” he contradicted her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. But she must know.
He pressed himself against her abdomen. Her eyes flew open. Ah, yes, she knew. He thrust himself against her again, finding satisfaction in doing so despite the clothing between them.
Her eyes darkened, and her lips parted, and so he slid his body lower, his cock stiff and urgent. “We cannot.” But her voice came out breathy, and she dropped her knees open, allowing him to settle at her core.
“But we can. You are soon to be a free woman.” He dropped his mouth to taste the skin at the tiny dent between her neck and shoulders. “So good.”
“It is but..” Her hands were in his hair now. “So good.”
“You want this, Maggie.” He trailed his lips up her neck, and she made that little mewling sound she’d made the day before. “You were made for this.”
“But…” She lifted her hips and ground against him. “What about the ring?”
He laughed and at the same time covered her breast with his hand. He craved seeing them again. He craved tasting them. He wanted to do so much with this woman.
“We cannot,” she said again, still writhing beneath him.
He pulled away and sat back on his knees, his unexpected withdrawal leaving her eyes looking more than a little dazed. She wanted this as much as he did. But she was right. He could not make love to her while she was engaged to his uncle. The notion was distasteful.
They needed to find the damn ring so she could officially end her engagement.
She pulled him back down to kiss her.
God in heaven but this woman had him tied in knots. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, delighting as hers sparred with his.
Surrendering to his need and hers, he pushed down with his hips at the same time she clasped her legs around his waist. The desire he had for her went beyond physical lust, and he ought to be scared to death by this. Because he had feelings for her. Affection. He’d hated what the damned ring had done to her finger. Knowing she’d suffered even a little, he’d wanted to rail against his uncle.
From the moment he’d met her, she was never far from his mind. He craved her body, but he also craved her presence, her smile, her opinions, her laughter.
It would not be easy to leave her, but he would.
She clutched at his back, so tightly that her fingers dug into his skin through his jacket. She gasped and he groaned.
She wasn’t a woman who shared herself easily, but she was willing to share herself with him.
He moved against her, excited but also pained knowing he couldn’t bury himself in her warmth. Not today. Not yet.
And so, aroused as hell, he imagined her lips encircling his girth, taking him deep. Her scent surrounding him.
He settled between her thighs, rubbing against the heat of her core, unable to stop.
“Maggie.” He was going to come in his breeches—like the randy youth she already thought that he was.
But she was right there with him, urging him closer, touching him all over. Her softness beckoned to be touched. He’d discovered the siren behind her façade.
With his face buried between her breasts, he reached one hand between them.
That was it. Damned if he didn’t spend the moment his hand touched the wet heat between her thighs. As waves of satisfaction gripped him, he pressed himself against her hip, thrusting and grinding until the pulsing subdued.
“Maggie,” he rasped, allowing at least half his weight to settle atop her, a boneless heap of worthless man. An army bigrade could charge at them from over the hill and he’d be unable to even move to defend the two of them.
“Ummm?” she answered.
“Just that… Just Maggie,” he mumbled against her face.
If this was good, how good would it be with neither of them wearing any clothing?
They’d left the manor just after dawn, but as he lay there with her, eyes closed, the warmth of the sun caressed his back. Birds squawked overhead, and the wind stirred her hair so that it tickled his skin.
“I ought to be somewhat embarrassed.”
She lifted her hands to his hair, gentle fingertips playing over his scalp and then onto his face. “But you are not,” she murmured, kissing his jaw.
When her mouth found his, she placed the most tender of kisses on his lips, so very different than those from only moments ago. Sebastian slid onto the ground beside her, relieving her of his weight.
He right away saw concern flicker in her eyes.
“If you cannot locate the ring, I will tell him you gave it to me and that I was the one who lost it.” He did not want her to worry, nor did he want her to draw George’s wrath any more than her change of mind already would.
“I won’t allow you to do that. Besides, we have a week left to look for it.” She snuggled deeper into his arms, sounding drowsy.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” He couldn’t remember what time she had come, nor what time she had left.
“Not a wink. My nephew is teething, and his mama needed some rest. But I am not complaining. I love my time in the nursery. I imagine you have a pounding head if you are anything like Hugh after he’s spent a night deep in his cups.” Her fingers trailed through his hair again. Something about her touch gave him comfort he hadn’t known for some time. Made him feel like he belonged. Like all was right with the world.
“It is. This is nice.”
“Ummm,” she agreed.
Which was the last thing he was aware of for some time. He drifted off to sleep, holding this woman on a hillside, in the sunshine.
Margaret came awake slowly and pondered her situation before opening her eyes to face the reality of her most undignified behavior. She lay in Sebastian’s arms, out in the open beneath a warm autumn sky and did not know how long they had slept.
She ought to be panicking about everything—about the ring, her betrothal, about the fact that anyone could have come upon them at any moment. But she did not want to move. She wanted to enjoy the feeling of being cared for, protected… desired.
None of her behavior over the last week even remotely resembled choices she would have made any time during the past decade of her life. Why wasn’t she more shocked with herself? Had she suppressed such yearnings for so long that they’d demanded fulfillment at the first opportunity?
Lawrence had loved her, and she had loved her husband in return. And she had found enjoyment in their lovemaking. She had! It had been comforting. It had reaffirmed life, somehow. It had reaffirmed the fact that they were a married couple and shared something special.
On a few occasions, even, she had experienced the most elusive and unexpected occurrence between English married couples: The Petite Morte.
But it had been nothing like this. What had Sebastian said about the two of them? He’d said that it was good. You and me, he had said. Together they were good.
This, she thought, feeling his arms around her, was what he’d been talking about. Not to mention the explosive, unstoppable passion that ignited whenever they touched one another. Would they have discovered it if she’d not mistakenly crawled into his bed that first night?
He was handsome and young. Would he have looked at her twice, let alone struck up a friendship with her? He had said that he would, but he was also a charmer and a flirt.
“Tell me what you are thinking about so hard.” The words, spoken against her forehead, caused her eyes to fly open. He had not moved, nor had he opened his own eyes. He lay still as though sleeping.
She contemplated fabricating something believable and respectable but settled on the truth instead. “It is good. You and me.”
He didn’t respond right away but seemed to hold her more tightly. When he did finally speak, his reply surprised her again. Although it should not have. “We ought to enjoy it. While given the opportunity.”
He meant an affair. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t love.
She’d never imagined herself entering such an arrangement. She was a lady. Ladies married. If they were not married, they were… lonely.
Nonetheless… “I cannot risk it,” she answered. Hugh and Penelope and the twins would suffer the social repercussions for years to come if she was to be discovered carrying on like this. Her own reputation would be damaged beyond repair. Her mother was likely turning in her grave.
But that was not all.
“You cannot risk it.” If she was to wind up in a vulnerable condition, he’d either feel compelled to offer for her and sacrifice all of his dreams or else he’d be a rogue of the worst kind and abandon her to deal with the consequences alone.
She longed desperately to be in such a vulnerable condition but under far different circumstances.
“There are ways we can prevent repercussions.” His answer reminded her of the French Letters she’d discovered in his pockets.
And what they had just done all of a sudden felt horribly sordid.
She turned and touched his face wistfully but then pushed herself out of his arms to sit up. She should not be dwelling on this right now. She needed to stop acting like a naïve young girl and make some hard decisions regarding her life.
She pushed herself to stand and brushed at her skirts. They were wrinkled. She must look like a harridan.
“You’re beautiful, you know.” He remained on the ground but was sitting now and was squinting up at her, one hand shading his eyes so that he could see her properly. “You will change your mind.”
“Please. Do not.” She turned to stare across the field. “I shall return tomorrow to look again. But I cannot stay away from the manor much longer. George will be wondering where I am, as might a few other curious guests.” She hugged herself and shivered as he rose to stand beside her.
He took her hand though, and then raised it to his lips.
“I’ll walk you down and return to look alone. We’ll find it, Maggie, and like I said, if not, I shall take the blame.”
“I hope so and you absolutely will not.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “We shall see. With any luck, it won’t come to that.”
He went to walk beside her, but she held out a hand, stopping him. “It’s better if I go down alone.”
For an instant, his ever-present confidence seemed to waver, but then just as quickly returned. “If that’s what you wish.” He nodded and she turned to go.
“But, Maggie?”
She halted but did not turn back to look at him.
“You will change your mind,” he taunted her.
She shook her head, dismissing his mocking prediction.
Of course, she would not change her mind. She was a practical, logical, widowed woman who was entering her fourth decade.
So practical, it seemed, that she’d spent the morning rolling around in the grass with a man who, although most affectionate and charming, had not one honorable intention where she was concerned.
“Don’t wait too long,” he called from behind her. “We do not have forever.”
His voice echoed behind her as she strode away, twisting her hands in front of her. He didn’t seem to understand. It was she who didn’t have forever. He had all the time in the world.
17
Dithering
The lawn behind the manor presented a beehive of activity when Margaret returned. The nursery staff and their charges, along with Penelope and Mrs. Spencer and a few of the other guests with children, milled about playing games and enjoying what may be one of the last warm days before winter set in.
“Margaret!” Penelope waved and walked briskly to greet her, carrying one of the twins in each arm. A little over one-year-old, they were practically toddlers now.
Margaret took hold of Creighton without hesitation when she arrived.
“You have a little more color today,” Margaret commented. In fact, her sister-in-law hardly resembled the woman from late last night.
“A little sleep does wonders. Did you find it?” Penelope asked without any preamble. “I realized that must have been why you were in Rockingham’s chamber last night. And why else would you disappear at the break of dawn?
Margaret could not help smiling when Creighton’s tiny fingers attempted to locate her teeth. “We did not.”
“We?”
“I,” Margaret corrected. “I did not.”
Narrowed eyes studied her closely, but Margaret chose to give all of her attention to the cherub in her arms.
“You seem to be feeling much better today. Look at that smile!” she cooed.
“Da da da da da da,” Creighton chanted.
“Louella can say ‘mama’ quite distinctly, but my boy is a traitor.”
Creighton was beautiful, and he was going to look just like Hugh. Although Margaret’s heart always ached just a little, she loved being an aunt to these two darlings and was enjoying this visit with them immensely.
“Hugh says that if you cannot find it, we will simply pay him off,” Penelope offered, speaking in low tones.
“Rockingham says it’s priceless,” Margaret said without thinking, distracted as she kissed the baby-soft skin of her nephew’s cheek.
“He hasn’t told George, has he?” Penelope asked. “It is his family’s ring, after all.”
“He has not. He won’t. He is sympathetic.”
“I hadn’t realized the two of you had grown so close.” Penelope raised her brows. “When did this come about?”
But Margaret was saved from answering when Mrs. Spencer approached holding the hand of a little girl, only slightly older than the twins.
“Who is this?” Margaret dropped to her knees, still holding Creighton.
Lady and the Rake (Lord Love a Lady Book 6) Page 16