A Little Bit Sinful

by Adrienne Basso

  He found her mouth again, and she felt the tenderness, as well as the passion, in his touch. Things were just starting to get interesting when a loud knock sounded on their bedchamber door.

  “My lord, I apologize for disturbing you,” a male voice on the other side called out.

  “Then don’t,” Sebastian shouted at their butler. “Go away.”

  There was a slight pause. “I will, naturally, do as you bid, but first I must know what to do with a delivery from London that has just arrived.”

  Sebastian looked down at Eleanor. “Did you order anything from Town?”

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

  “Lady Tinsdale has not ordered anything from London. Whatever it is, send it back at once.”

  There was the distinct sound of feet scuffling, then a white folded sheet of parchment was shoved beneath the closed door. “This note accompanied the delivery. And might I add, my lord, ‘tis a very large cart and a very, very large crate.”

  Grumbling with annoyance, Sebastian leapt from the bed. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, must I do everything around here?” Eleanor turned on her side to admire the view as her naked husband retrieved the note, broke the seal, and began reading it. “It’s from Atwood. Apparently he and Lady Dorothea have sent us a wedding gift.”

  Eleanor sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare breasts. “And it required a cart to deliver it?”

  “A very large cart, if our butler is to be believed,” Sebastian emphasized. “I’d best go down and investigate or else we’ll never get any peace.”

  “Wait, I’m coming too. After all, a wedding gift is meant for both parties.”

  Sebastian threw on a pair of breeches and a shirt while Eleanor hurried into a simple day gown. Sebastian obligingly assisted with the hooks at the back of her dress, though he insisted on pausing every few moments to press kisses on her neck and shoulders. Finally presentable, they descended the stairs together, Sebastian’s warm hand on the small of her back guiding her through the foyer and out the front door.

  Once outside the house, they didn’t have far to travel. There was indeed an enormous crate awaiting them, one that took five men to lift from the cart and set down in the middle of the drive. Eleanor watched with growing curiosity as the boards were pulled off and the straw packed around the item pulled away.

  “Hellfire and damnation!” Sebastian yelled, before he broke into laughter.

  Eleanor moved closer for a better look, tugging away more of the straw. “Isn’t that the fountain from Lord Atwood’s garden?” she asked.

  “The very same,” Sebastian replied. “And it’s even more hideous than I remember.”

  Eleanor tilted her head to the side for a better view, trying to find something to compliment. But there were too many spouting statues, too many columns and shells and trailing vines, too much marble, too much of everything to appreciate the craftsmanship. “I had not realized it was so …”

  “Ugly? Gaudy? Enormous?” Sebastian circled around it slowly, his face wreathed in amusement. “The first time I set eyes on this monstrosity, I knew Atwood would eventually find a way to get rid of it. But I never imagined this would be how he’d do it. He’s a damn clever man.”

  “Well, we obviously have to keep it. Atwood is one of your closest friends. No doubt he and Lady Dorothea will come to visit one day. It would be horribly rude if their wedding gift was nowhere to be found.”

  “We could say it was broken on the journey,” Sebastian suggested, taking a hammer from one of the footmen.

  “No, wait!” Eleanor cried, as he swung his arm upward. “Though I appreciate and value your newfound maturity and sense of responsibility, never let it be said that marriage has turned you into a priggish, stuffy man. I have heard a great deal about them from your friends, yet have not witnessed one of your infamous fountain swims.”

  “And you won’t, at least not until the weather warms.” Sebastian slowly lowered his arm. “Still, I fear your good taste will be soundly questioned if we prominently display the fountain.”

  A burst of laughter caught in Eleanor’s throat. “This is a very large estate. Surely we can find a secluded spot somewhere. Then, when the mood strikes …” Her voice trailed off and she lifted her brow suggestively.

  He smiled broadly, then slid an arm around her shoulders. “If I swim, you go with me,” he whispered. “Without wearing a stitch of clothing.”

  She pulled back to eye him, her face warming at his sensual expression. Life with Sebastian was many things, but it was never dull. “Why, my love, I think that’s a simply marvelous idea!”

  Epilogue

  An agony-filled scream pierced the late afternoon stillness. Sebastian cringed, the sound reverberating through his entire being. Swallowing hard, he adjusted the brush in his hand and resumed the rhythmic stroking of his horse. Standing just outside the stall, Lord Waverly paused, bit his bottom lip, then resumed his pacing.

  Sebastian struggled to keep his mind blank, to ignore what was happening inside the manor house, in his own bed, knowing if he pictured Eleanor’s suffering he would surely go mad. Twelve hours. For twelve hours she had been laboring to bring their child into the world and still no results.

  Good God, how much more of this can she endure? Can I endure?

  “I heard the Tories’ plan to introduce an agricultural bill in this next session of Parliament. Do you think it’s worth considering?” Waverly asked.

  Sebastian scowled. Waverly was doing a heroic job trying to distract him, but there was nothing anyone could say that would ease his torment. And while he appreciated the effort, Sebastian had long since passed the time when he even bothered to reply.

  He was, however, glad of the company and he knew Eleanor was grateful to have her sister by her side. She had initially protested when Bianca announced she would attend the birth. Though married, Bianca was not yet a mother and Eleanor expressed her worry at her delicate sister witnessing the still unknown mysteries of childbirth.

  Lord Waverly had voiced a similar concern, especially after the couple revealed they had recently learned that Bianca was also expecting a child. Yet Bianca refused to budge on the matter and stubbornly insisted until she got her way. Apparently, the sweet, shy, accommodating Bianca was maturing into an opinionated, strong-willed woman.

  Another cry, louder, longer, shriller than the others, sounded through the air. Sebastian felt his knees weaken. Enough! Not caring that he had been thrown out of the chamber three times already, Sebastian stormed from the stables, tossing the brush in the corner as he ran.

  There were four women in the bedchamber—well, five including Eleanor. One maid, the midwife, Aunt Jane, and Bianca. He was turning soft if he couldn’t manage his way past that group, even if the midwife’s arms were thick and beefy.

  “Wait!” Waverly shouted. The younger man grabbed his shoulders and hauled him back. “I was instructed to keep you away from the bedchamber. Bianca will have my head if I fail at my task.”

  Cursing, Sebastian turned, fists flying. “Damn it, Waverly, what will you do when it’s Bianca brought to bed in childbirth?”

  Waverly paled, then slowly released his grip. “Will you at least tell her I tried to stop you?”

  For the first time in many hours Sebastian smiled. “I’ll say you nearly ripped my arm from its socket.”

  Waverly nodded. “Good luck.”

  Unencumbered, Sebastian stormed into the manor and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the way he passed several servants, their faces lined with worry. They love her too, he realized, though in his heart he knew he should not be surprised. Eleanor was a kind, fair mistress who appreciated the good work they did. She had turned their Yorkshire estate into a home that made them all proud.

  Throwing open their bedchamber door, Sebastian marched inside. Bianca turned the moment he entered, a wide smile upon her face. “Sebastian! We were just going to call you. Look, you have a son. Isn’t he beaut
iful?”

  She held the babe out proudly, but Sebastian barely glanced at her arms. Ignoring her, he strode forward, his gaze locked on Eleanor. She lay pale and motionless in the center of the large bed, a sheet drawn to her neck.

  “Why is she so still?” he croaked, dropping to his knees beside his wife. Fingers trembling, he lifted Eleanor’s hand and pressed it to his cheek.

  “She’s exhausted, my lord,” the midwife said. “Birthing is hard work.”

  “She’s sleeping?” he ventured as he smoothed the damp tendrils of hair off her forehead.

  “Yes,” Aunt Jane replied. “It has been a very long, hard ordeal for Eleanor. You need to let her rest.”

  Logically, Sebastian knew she was right. Yet he also knew there was no force on earth strong enough to wrench him away from his wife’s side. He pressed a gentle kiss onto her palm. The steady beat of her pulse reassured him, yet he wished she would open her eyes.

  Almost as if she were aware of his dilemma, Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. “Sebastian, where’s the baby? Where is our son?”

  Her voice was hoarse, raw from hours of screaming. It pained him to hear it. He signaled to his sister-in-law and Bianca came forward, placing the small bundle she held in the crook of Eleanor’s arm. Then she and the other women discreetly exited the room, leaving the new parents alone.

  Eleanor stared down at the child while Sebastian continued to gaze at her. Her face was pale, nearly ashen, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, knowing he might have lost her, realizing it would have been impossible to go on without her.

  “There are tufts of dark hair on his head,” Eleanor muttered in awe. “And look, he has a strong brow and square chin.”

  With an audible swallow, Sebastian looked down at the child. There was something vaguely familiar about the infant’s features, a likeness that caused Sebastian’s memory to stir. The infant took a shuddering breath, then opened his eyes.

  Sebastian gasped. The resemblance was unmistakable and nothing short of remarkable.

  “Oh, Sebastian,” Eleanor cried. “He looks just like—”

  “Your father,” Sebastian finished, his lips breaking into an ironic grin.

  “Dear Lord.” Eleanor shifted, clasping the babe closer to her breast, her protective mothering instincts emerging. Sebastian wondered at the fates that were so determined to test his measure, so intent on seeing him fall, and decided that retribution for past sins clearly came in many forms.

  There was no way he could not respond to the wary plea in Eleanor’s eyes. Taking a determined breath, he once again observed the child. Fuzzy and unfocused, the baby nevertheless managed to meet his eyes with unfailing accuracy. The initial shock started to fade and in its place Sebastian felt a warmth blossom inside his chest, softening his heart. The child was a miracle, rare and precious, someone to nurture, cherish, and protect.

  “I believe I’ve just fallen in love for the second time in my life,” Sebastian whispered, his voice choking with emotion.

  Reaching out, he stroked his finger along Eleanor’s brow, then gently touched the baby’s cheek. The infant blinked in response and flailed his fists, nearly striking Sebastian on the chin.

  “Manners, young man,” Eleanor cooed. “You must be respectful of your papa.”

  Papa. Sebastian closed his eyes. He was a father! “I love you with all my heart, Eleanor. Thank you for my son. He is a beautiful baby.”

  “He is rather perfect, is he not?” Eleanor sniffed, a single tear falling down her cheek.

  “He’s damn brilliant,” Sebastian insisted. “Oh, my love, don’t cry.”

  “I’m so happy, Sebastian. And relieved.”

  Sebastian understood. Though he had tried not to show it these past few months, it had worried him also. How would he react when the baby was born? Would he truly be able to unselfishly love a child who carried the earl’s blood?

  “It doesn’t matter that he looks like your father,” Sebastian said calmly. “Honestly. He could look like my bloody horse and I’d still want him, still love him. Because you are his mother.”

  Eleanor gave him a watery smile. “Though I’m not thrilled at our son’s resemblance to the earl, I am relieved he doesn’t look like your horse.” She kissed the top of the infant’s head, nuzzling him close. “Aunt Jane told me that babies change a great deal as they grow. Perhaps the resemblance will diminish.”

  “It might. Either way, it doesn’t matter.” Sebastian’s heart lightened and a rush of optimism flowed through his veins. “He’s ours, Eleanor. All ours. We will share our love with him, teach him right from wrong, show him how to be strong and honorable. I have no doubts he will do his mother proud.”

  “And his father.”

  “Yes.” Smiling broadly, Sebastian leaned forward and sealed that promise with a kiss, pouring all the joy and love he felt so keenly into it.