“Were you?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Pardon me.”
“No need.” He waved her off. “Actually, I had. My father had stills that nobody knew about and every now and then, I’d sell barrels to smugglers. I didn’t know anyone knew that I’d actually had any part in selling it, but either your father knew or he was a great bluffer because it put enough fear in me not to go back for a while.”
“I imagine it did.” Even if Lord Clearcreek was an earl and Sebastian a viscount, the charges they’d face for having the stills and selling whisky were too high, not to mention adding more scandals on their family.
“That’s when I decided to leave. I’d tracked down the physician in the village who’d been attending to you and paid him for details. He was stingy with them but I knew all I needed: you’d live.” He closed his eyes for an extended blink. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out of the man if you’d have a very satisfying existence or not—”
“Which is why you left without signing the papers,” she finished. His father had been right. He’d wanted to make sure she’d been taken care of—even if it irritated both of their families he did so.
“I wanted to make sure you were taken care of,” he explained, paying her no mind.
“If you didn’t make it back,” she supplied.
“There’s that, but I was more concerned if—” He swallowed hard. “If your recovery left you an invalid. I-I was never told the extent of your injury, Belle. I could only assume the worst because of all that blood and the way your body was contorted.”
He took a deep breath, but when he spoke again, his voice was harsh and raspy. “I wanted to do the right thing. Even if I couldn’t be there. Had word reached me that you were left a cripple or in some other way unmarriageable, I would have petitioned the courts to demand my husbandly rights and taken you home and made sure everyone knew you were Lady Belgrave, a viscountess. I—I didn’t want you to be cast out or shunned because of me. That was never my intention.”
Her heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice and the power of his words, but she still didn’t fully understand. “Then why did you stay away so long?”
“Because I wasn’t ready to face you yet.” He lowered his lashes. “I know, that’s the cowardly answer, but it’s the only one I have. I wanted so badly to spare you being a pariah if the results of your injuries would have left you disfigured, but when I was informed you’d recovered better than anyone had expected and were more beautiful than before, I didn’t think I could face you. I don’t know what memories you’re able to recall from that day, but I hadn’t been a very good friend, let alone a good husband. I’d been so irritated with you for withholding the truth from me until it was too late that I’d snapped at you each time I spoke and had agreed with Abrams not to stop for lunch when you requested it. I was just trying to be an ass and because of that, you got hurt.” A faraway look filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Belle, I never meant any of what I said, I—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Shhh. My memory isn’t quite as clear, but if I remember my part correctly, I wasn’t acting a very good wife—or friend—either. I can’t remember exactly what I’d said, but I do remember that I was so excited that I’d been right about the marriage registry or something like that that I was purposely trying to provoke you.” She blushed. “If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t have been too keen on granting any of my wishes, either.”
He didn’t look too convinced. “I should have. And I’ll forever feel guilty about not.”
She froze. Guilt. That’s it. That’s what all of his actions had been about. Guilt. All of his kindnesses toward her had been because he felt bad for his role in her injuries, not because he was her friend. He just wanted to assuage his guilt. He’d even said something about it that last night at the house party, she’d just been too shocked by his announcement that they were still married she hadn’t been able to really put everything into perspective. She swallowed the bile that burned the back of her throat.
“That’s why you came to visit me, isn’t it? Because you felt guilty for the accident,” she asked for clarification, inwardly congratulating herself on holding a straight tone that belied the new round of angry emotions that were overtaking her.
“Yes. I wanted—”
“And that’s why you never signed the papers,” she cut in, pushing at his hold and moving to stand.
“Yes, I—”
“And, it was also why you wanted to help me find a husband. Because you felt guilty for making me a social pariah.”
He nodded.
Isabelle suddenly felt very cold and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. There was one final question. Though she already knew the answer, she had to ask. Then she could leave and never think of him again. “Is that why you signed the papers, Sebastian?”
“No.”
“No?” she echoed. Had she heard him right?
“No.” He reached for her and she pulled back. He reached for her again, this time, standing and taking a step toward her. “I signed the papers because I realized I had no right to hold you back from your own happiness. I might love you to a distraction, and I might hope that you feel the same for me, but it wasn’t fair of me to use our existing marriage as a means to keep you as my wife. I wanted one last chance to do things the right way to make things right between us.”
She knit her brows. “I—I don’t understand.”
He chafed her hand between his larger ones, a hint of a nervous, boyish smile took his lips. “I know you were angry with me last week when I told you that we were still married, but I hope you won’t stay that way, for I’d like the chance to court you.”
All of her blood drained to her toes. “Court me?”
“Yes. If you’re agreeable, that is. I’d like to court you.” His smile grew a fraction, melting the remaining ice that she’d encased her heart with to keep it safe. “I’d like to claim your first—and last waltz at every ball, race you on Rotten Row, send you a bouquet or two, call upon you and fawn over you in the drawing room with poetry and trinkets. Everything. I want to marry you proper this time.”
“Y—you want to marry me? Forever, this time?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I want to marry you again. But first, I need to court you.”
“No, you don’t.” She reached her trembling hand into the inside pocket of her hooded frock and withdrew a folded stack of papers. She flashed him the direction on the front of the papers and tried not to laugh at his look of astonishment.
“Where did you get those?” he breathed.
“I came to see you last week, but you weren’t here. Your father met me—”
“My father,” he said in a hard tone.
Isabelle nodded. “He met me and told me you were out for the day, but that I could be on my way, you’d signed the papers.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows knit. “And then he gave them to you?”
“No.” Isabelle’s mouth went dry. “I stole them.”
Sebastian’s face went blank, then suddenly his lips started to twitch. “You stole the annulment papers. Why?”
“Because I love you. I—I know I was angry when I first learned the truth, but the real truth is that I love you and I don’t want an annulment.”
“I love you, too,” he whispered, closing the space between them. “I signed those papers because I loved you and wanted to do things right this time.”
He’d already said that and apparently he was bent on it. Impulsively, she flicked her wrist in the direction of the low-burning fire and sent the papers sailing into the hearth. “I don’t want you to court me, Sebastian. I want you to claim me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Claim you?” Sebastian winced at the raggedness of his own voice, forgetting all about how she’d gotten those papers.
She nodded. “I don’t need any of that other nonsense, Sebastian. Just you.”
“Hopefully you don’t think I’m nonsense,”
he teased, lowering his lashes. “Are you sure this is what you want? Once we…” He cleared his throat, his blood turning to fire in his veins at the very thought. “I won’t let you go again. Are you certain this is what you want?”
“Are you certain this is what you want?” she countered, taking a step back. A seductive smile played on her lips as she idly reached for the sash of her hooded frock. She quickly slipped the knot free and let it fall open, exposing another of those silk nightrails she had—except this one was red. “Because if you aren’t, I might need to return home.” She moved to close her frock and he reached his hand out to stop her.
“The devil you will,” he growled, gripping both sides of her frock and pulling it open further. He swallowed, then cast a glance to the fire that had just consumed their annulment papers. “I suppose it’s plenty warm in here now that six years of our past has burned.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, shrugging out of her frock.
He released his hold and let the garment fall to her feet. He didn’t know whether to drool over the luscious sight that presented itself in front of him or be furious she’d traveled to his house wearing something so enticing.
As if she’d read his mind, she said, “I couldn’t sleep until I had my answers, but I didn’t think it’d be considered appropriate to wake my maid and ask her to help me dress so I could go sneak into my husband’s bedchamber in the black of night.”
He nodded. “Do you always sleep in—” he gestured to her delectable form— “this?”
“No.” She tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Only when I think my husband might see.”
He took a step toward her, cocking his head to the side, “Oh, so you came here tonight bent on seduction.”
“No. I came for answers.” She narrowed her eyes a little above his left shoulder. “You have something in your hair.”
He blinked. What the devil did that matter? He mindlessly swatted at his hair. Did she find it repulsive that there was a little fuzz or powder in his hair? Why would she even bother to bring up such an inconsequential matter at a time such as this?
“Allow me,” she said; her pink tongue poked out between her lips, moistening them.
He froze and watched her lips as she closed the gap between them, bringing her barely covered breasts flush against his bare chest, then came up on her toes, dragging her plump breasts up his chest as she went. Instinctively, he put his arms around her and held her there, then bent his head down and captured her lips with his.
***
Her plan had worked. Partially. She’d hoped to spark his desire a little by pressing herself close to him. She’d never imagined he’d kiss her in response.
His tongue traced the seam of her mouth and she parted her lips for him, gasping when his tongue brushed past her teeth and touched her tongue. He lifted one strong hand to cup the side of her face and she wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his soft, brown hair.
He murmured her name against her lips then pulled back.
“Did you get it?” he said hoarsely; his eyes dark and intense in a way that set her blood to simmering.
“I’m not sure.” Rotating her body just so that she’d brush his groin with her hip, she moved her fingers to the side of his hair and removed an imaginary piece of string, then slowly returned her heels to the floor, going slow enough to drag her body along the rigid bulge in the front of his trousers. “It’s out now.”
“No, it’s not, but it will be,” he muttered, tightening his hold and pressing her against his solid erection. He’d clearly caught onto her game.
Not that she minded. She certainly didn’t, especially if that meant he was about to play the game with her. He released his gentle hold on her face and trailed his fingers down her cheek and jaw, then to her neck and finally to her shoulder. He traced her collarbone with the fingertip of his index finger. His lashes were lowered and his eyes appeared to be fixed on her breasts. A thrill shot through her. She never would have thought she’d have this affect on Sebastian, nor him have this strong of affect on her.
He slowly skimmed his callused fingertips along her skin, taking the strap of her nightrail with it. He reached the end of her shoulder and lowered his warm lips to kiss his way across the path his fingers had just made. When he reached the tip of her shoulder, he planted one last kiss, then pressed openmouthed kisses back across her shoulder and to the plane of her chest. He stopped when he reached that dip at the bottom of her throat and flicked his tongue in the hollow. She shivered.
Seeming encouraged by her reaction, he slid the other strap of her nightrail to the edge of her shoulder, this time following it with parted lips and the barest hint of his tongue.
When he reached the ball of her shoulder, he lifted his head and kissed her lips, then let go of the fabric, letting it make a silk and lace puddle at her feet. He brought his hands to her sides, his palms covering her ribs and his thumbs resting just below her breasts. He held her close to him and deepened their kiss. Her hardened nipples pressed into the warm, smooth skin of his chest, her breasts swelling in response.
He skimmed his hands down her sides, then back up, brushing his palms over the sides of her breasts. Her breath caught. He’d touched her thus last week, but tonight it felt different. The only way she could think to explain it was his touch then was charged with lust and desire, as was her response. Tonight though, all she could feel between them—his touch, his kiss, his gaze—was love.
He pulled back, ending their kiss; his breathing labored. With a swallow, he let his gaze travel from her eyes to her lips then down to where their chests were still pressed together. He swallowed again and took a step backward, separating them.
“You’re breathtaking, Belle,” he whispered, giving her breasts a gentle squeeze from the side. He reached both of his thumbs up to sweep across the hardened tips.
Isabelle bit her lip to keep from gasping and the insufferable man made another pass, pressing harder this time. Twin sparks flew through her and she was unsuccessful in holding back her gasp, which seemed to please Sebastian greatly, if his hooded gaze was any indication.
Regaining her wits only momentarily, Isabelle reached between them and ran the edge of her knuckle along his erection until she reached the tip that rested just under the fastenings of his trousers. She inched her fingers up to the buttons and began to unfasten his placket. On the second button, his erection sprang free and into her waiting hands. He stilled instantly, his hands still cupping her breasts.
She wrapped her fingers around his length in a firm grip and chanced a quick peek up at his face. His eyes met hers. They were dark and full of a heated promise. She shivered and slid her hand down to the base of his erection. He groaned and moved to cover her breasts with his hands, giving them a firm, yet gentle, squeeze that made her entire body tingle.
She glided her hand back up his shaft and brushed her thumb over the swollen tip, eliciting a groan from him. Which of course spurred her on to repeat the gesture. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then suddenly he slid his hands down her body to her hips and lifted her and carried her to the bed.
Isabelle lost her hold on his erection and gripped his shoulders for support as he set her on the mattress. He murmured something about giving him a moment then he straightened and removed the remainder of his clothing. Isabelle’s mouth went dry. She’d never seen a naked gentleman before for comparison, but no matter what any other looked like, Sebastian was magnificent. His chiseled chest and abdomen full of edges and rounded muscles tapered off to a lean, trim waist. His muscular legs were covered in a thin sheet of black hair that grew thicker near his groin where a dense patch surrounded his thick erection.
Paying her no heed, he climbed onto the bed and came up on his hands and knees, surrounding her. He dropped his head down to her chest and used his mouth to explore every inch of her. Kissing here and licking there. She sank her fingers into his hair to hold him in place as pleasure zinged through h
er and her body arched and bucked on its own accord.
His hand found her left thigh and without pausing in his exploration of her, he guided her legs apart. She was powerless to stop him from doing so. Not that she’d want to stop him. Ever.
A moment later his palm was sliding down her and toward her nest of feminine curls. She sucked in a breath. She remembered this and the delicious feelings it evoked.
“Sebastian,” she murmured when he reached the apex of her legs and brushed his fingers over her delicate flesh.
Sebastian said her name against the sensitive skin just under her left breast and moved his fingers to her opening. She gripped his shoulders a fraction tighter in anticipation. Would it hurt? Would it feel good? Would it feel at all?
She had her answer less than a second later as he eased his finger inside. It felt…different. Almost as if she were being stretched. He nearly withdrew, then pushed in again, this time bringing her a little shock of pleasure. He did it again. Then again; and again. Each time another arrow of heated pleasure shot through her while simultaneously the tension in her abdomen tightened. He sped his pace, his thrusts coming harder and faster than she could keep up with as her entire body filled with an intoxicating pleasure.
Then suddenly he stopped.
Isabelle choked on a sob. The tension just above her waist was too tight, too demanding for him to stop. “Sebastian—” Her words died on her tongue when she felt something else at her entrance. His erection was much thicker than his finger had been and she winced in pain as he slid inside. After the initial sting subsided, she lay still for a moment to get used to his body inside of hers. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but it didn’t feel quite the same as earlier. Was that it, then? Was this the part where he found fulfillment and she tried not to disrupt that?
“Relax,” he murmured as he brushed a kiss on the edge of her ear. He moved his lips to her jaw then to the back of her ear before going to her neck. She sighed and lolled her head to the side to give him more access—which he took. He dragged his slightly parted lips along her neck and slowly started moving on top of, and inside of, her. Though some of the tension in her midsection had eased, there was still some there that was coiling much faster and tighter than it had before. The friction between their bodies lessened and he sped his movements, stoking some sort of inner fire in her abdomen and sending sprays of hot sparks through her. Pressure and excitement built higher and higher with each thrust until it threatened to consume her.
Love Regency Style Page 194