After the Abduction

by Sabrina Jeffries

  S ebastian knew he was in trouble when he awakened the next morning to a rampant erection. Devil take it.

  Sleep well, the teasing minx had said. Ha! Had she guessed he’d spend the night churning his sheets, his rest riddled with fitful, alluring dreams?

  No, she’d never guess that, since he was too “proper” for such passions. Her and her blasted notions about men.

  And what was wrong with his kissing, anyway? Adequate, she’d called it. Adequate! As if he were some elderly dullard who didn’t know how to rouse a woman! Meanwhile, she’d nearly brought him to his knees with that mouth of hers, damned near brought him to the brink of insanity. Angelic little Juliet, of all women!

  Then again, this wasn’t the old Juliet, the romantic girl pining for love like a hundred other well-bred misses of eighteen. Two years ago, convincing her to believe his tales had been easy. Although resisting her charms had taxed his self-restraint, he’d kept reminding himself she was barely out of the schoolroom. That had effectively kept him from putting his hands on her.

  Until the very end and that last kiss…

  He swore under his breath. This mature Juliet was far too clever for her own good. The impertinent baggage had smoothly tried to trap him into telling the truth—first, by dictating her arguments like a little Napoleon, and then, when that hadn’t worked, by pretending that “his brother” had debauched her.

  Ah, but he’d had his revenge, hadn’t he? He’d shown her up for a liar…and made things worse in the bargain. What idiot kissed a woman to prove that he wasn’t who she thought he was? Instead of staying away from her?

  By thunder, she knew precisely how to provoke him, with her intelligent dissection of his past and her innocent observations about his prowess with women…Not to mention a body created for the express purpose of driving a grown man full out of his wits, a mouth so luscious he could have fed on it half the night long…

  He scowled down at the appendage turning the bedclothes into a tent. “See what you made me do, you blasted, whoremongering—”

  Devil take it, now he was talking to his penis. What next?

  He glanced to the window, relieved to see that he’d slept unusually late and the sun was high. With any luck, Juliet and her pesky relations were already heading for London. Of course, with the way his life had gone lately, that was probably too much to hope.

  Grumbling about the plagues of women, he left the bed and went to splash cold water on his face. Though he ought to be splashing it on his unruly John Thomas.

  He glared down at his bulging drawers. “What the devil are you thinking?” The unrepentant portion of his anatomy bobbed mindlessly. “You’ve never been one to stand to attention for every pretty face—why must you do it for her, of all women?”

  He knew why: because she’d grown into a delightful armful. But any man who marched to the beat of his John Thomas was marching straight into disaster.

  Fine. Naive, adoring Juliet had grown up. She’d changed from a child playing at being a woman, to a woman playing at being Delilah. That didn’t mean he should let her practice her newly acquired feminine wiles on him.

  Though she’d finally seemed to believe him last night, one slip of his tongue could still change her mind, so he had to be careful, keep on his guard. He must remember that the innocent angel who’d taken his every word at face value had grown up into a devious, calculating…tempting…seductive…

  There went his randy John Thomas again. “Stop that!” he growled at it. “You are only making everything worse.”

  “Milord?” came a voice behind him.

  Blast, he hadn’t heard his valet enter. “Nothing, Boggs. I was thinking aloud. And when the devil did you stop knocking, anyway?”

  “My apologies, your lordship. I thought I heard you call for me.”

  No, I was talking to my willful cock. He could hardly say that, could he? “It’s of no matter. Fetch my clothes, will you?” He needed a moment to regain his control.

  “Are we dressing for pistol designing today, milord? Or for entertaining guests?”

  Sebastian kept his back to the valet. “Surely the guests have left already.”

  “No, milord. There was a heavy snow in the night. ’Tis a foot or more, too heavy for the carriage to manage. It’ll take a day or two to melt.”

  He groaned. “Which means my guests are staying until it does.”

  “Don’t see as they have much choice. They can’t travel to London in that mess.”

  What a catastrophe. Two days of Juliet’s blithe comments and Knighton’s probing questions, and he’d be offering his own neck to the noose just to escape them. Besides, what if Morgan arrived while they were here? That would be sheer disaster.

  Wait until he got his hands on his troublemaking uncle. When Sebastian finished with him, Uncle Lew wouldn’t be so quick to offer shelter to dangerous strangers.

  Boggs cleared his throat. “Milord? Your clothing?”

  “Right. Do I still have that morning suit of superfine you drool over? The one with the patterned velvet waistcoat I never wear?”

  “Oh yes, milord, you do!”

  Boggs had always been eager to put his master in a “proper suit of clothes,” as he called it. The poor man never got to demonstrate his talent as a valet. Half the time, Sebastian went around in fustian. It didn’t stain like the finer materials, so he didn’t ruin a suit of clothes every hour.

  “I’ll wear the superfine then.”

  “And the silk stockings?” Boggs said hopefully.

  He suppressed a smile. “Yes, Boggs, the silk stockings.”

  “We might have trouble with the cravats,” Boggs mused aloud as he hurried off into the dressing room. “It’s been so long since I tied an elaborate one that it may take a few tries. But you must have at least a mathematical or perhaps a Gordian knot. Those are impressive enough, I think, for the superfine, although…”

  He ignored Boggs’s dithering, relieved that discussion of his clothing for the day had not only preoccupied his valet, but subdued his reckless John Thomas. By the time Boggs returned with the suit, he was presentable for company again.

  It took a good hour for Boggs to dress him, but Sebastian endured it for once. Today of all days, he must look the part. He wasn’t sure how much his wealth influenced Knighton, but anything would help.

  Then there was Juliet. His dull attire yesterday had probably contributed to her absurd perception of him as some inept country bumpkin lacking any knowledge of how to please a woman. This would remind her of his position and its responsibilities, which precluded the sort of “reckless” behavior that had attracted her before.

  He sobered. It would remind him as well—of his duty to his family and his estate. It might keep him from losing control the next time he was around her.

  As soon as Boggs finished, Sebastian headed for the breakfast room, but he’d arisen so late that no one was there. Thank God. He needed time to plan. Might Juliet have told her relations of her conversation with him last night? He didn’t think so, for she’d be loath to admit that she’d met a man alone. And he couldn’t imagine her revealing those kisses they’d shared. Those wholly unwise, incredibly erotic kisses…

  He must stop thinking of that! Or of her blasted opinions about it afterward. He scowled. All right, so he hadn’t precisely cut a swath through the available women in society during recent years; that didn’t mean he couldn’t kiss perfectly well, thank you very much.

  Besides, he was also the one who’d kissed her the first time, the one who’d “made her heart race and her bones melt.” She’d merely trumped up the memory like females were wont to do. In her mind, “Morgan” became a reckless adventurer sweeping her away with passion, and the respectable brother couldn’t begin to compare.

  Next time he had her in his arms, by thunder, he’d show her what a respectable gentleman could do when he set his mind to it.

  He released a groan of frustration. What was he thinking? He wasn’t going to
have her in his arms again, for God’s sake. He had to steer clear of her—that was absolutely imperative. Why, if Knighton even got wind of any kissing…

  Sebastian gritted his teeth. Her family was bound to prove an enormous nuisance, no matter what he did.

  The servants brought in his morning toast and jam as usual, and he devoured it, washing it down with a few swallows of tea. Then he strode to his study, hoping to bury himself in work. The sight of Knighton already ensconced there only further dampened his mood. Did the man have nothing better to do than lie in wait for his enemies?

  Reining in his agitation, he walked to his desk. “Good morning, Mr. Knighton. My valet informs me that you may be forced to stay a few days at Charnwood Hall.”

  At least Knighton looked none too happy about it. “I apologize for the imposition, but my coachman tells me that navigating even the road into town is impossible for the nonce. We must trust to your hospitality awhile longer.”

  Knighton certainly didn’t act as if Juliet had put him on his guard. So she must indeed have kept silent, something to be thankful for.

  Sebastian smiled as genially as he could manage. “It’s the least I can do. My house is yours, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Or until I can get rid of you.

  Hoping that the conversation was at an end, Sebastian sat down behind his desk, but no such luck. Knighton continued to stand there. With a sigh, Sebastian gestured to a chair. “Please, sir, do tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Stiffly, Knighton took a seat. “I have a request, Templemore. I’ve no right to tell you how to behave in your own house, and after my hasty actions yesterday—” He gave a rueful smile. “After yesterday, I’ve no right to tell you much at all. But as Juliet’s present guardian, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay away from my sister-in-law while we’re here.”

  The man was nothing if not direct. “Certainly. Whatever you wish.”

  Relief shone in Knighton’s face. “Not that I expected you to be running after her. It’s just that all this is difficult enough for her as it is. Despite our interview with you yesterday, she was still insisting that you’re Morgan Pryce last night before dinner.”

  “I can’t say I blame her,” he stated coolly, though the weight of impending disaster hovered over his head. Even if she hadn’t told her family of last night’s discussion, she’d apparently tried out her arguments on them beforehand.

  Knighton waved his hand dismissively. “No matter what my emotional young sister-in-law may think, I’m not so foolish as to believe that a man of your consequence needs to practice kidnapping. But Juliet…” He shrugged. “This situation has greatly upset her. Seeing the very image of the man who wronged her has brought it all flooding back, and since she can’t witness your brother brought to justice, she wants to use you for that purpose instead. So she deludes herself that you are he.”

  “An understandable reaction.” For the child that Juliet once was. But not for the new Juliet. No, she knew precisely what she was about. Or at least she’d known when she’d come to his workshop last night. Fortunately, she’d been swayed by his “adequate” kissing, blast her.

  But that was merely a temporary solution. Eventually, they’d all learn the truth—if only when Morgan returned. When that day came, it would be best to be prepared. To know precisely how angry Juliet was and how far she might carry matters. “You might explain, however, why Lady Juliet is so bent on revenge. From what you’ve told me, my brother didn’t actually hurt her, and he left her chaste.”

  A grim guilt suffused Knighton’s face. “We really don’t know what he did.”

  Did the man feel responsible for the kidnapping? After all, it was revenge on Knighton that Crouch had been after.

  Knighton went on coolly. “We can only rely on her word for the tale, and while she insists that your brother never touched her, I find that hard to believe.”

  Sebastian stiffened, all the more because Knighton was right to be suspicious. “My brother’s a gentleman, sir.”

  “He kidnapped her. That’s not gentlemanly behavior in any society I know of.”

  “True,” Sebastian admitted, the word eked out from a tight throat. “Tell me something. If by some chance my brother returned to England—”

  “You said he went down with the Oceana,” Knighton interrupted, eyes narrowing.

  “And I have no reason to believe otherwise. You saw that letter. But as a man of trade, you know that people do return from sea after years abroad, after their families have relinquished hope of seeing them again. Records are wrong, information is lost…We still haven’t given up hope.” When Knighton’s expression softened to sympathy, he felt a quick stab of guilt. “So if Morgan should return, what will you do?”

  Knighton’s sympathy vanished. “Why do you ask? So you could hide him away from us? Warn him off?”

  “No, indeed. You have every right to seek reparation. I merely want to know what form such reparation will take. To prepare myself, as it were.”

  The gentleman’s blue gaze sharpened to steel. “I’d like him to stand trial for kidnapping.”

  Sebastian could feel the noose closing around his neck—by thunder, the man had a vengeful temper. “That would mean a scandal for your family and Juliet.”

  “As I said, that’s what I’d like. But she’d have to give testimony, and that would ruin her. Especially once it became apparent that she left Stratford of her own volition.”

  He relaxed. “Then what else is left to you?”

  “I could always call him out. That would put a swift end to it.”

  Blast the man, duels never solved anything. Sebastian’s father had proved that. “You do like to fight, don’t you?” When Knighton bristled, he added hastily, “But couldn’t Morgan serve a penance that wouldn’t require having someone’s head blown off? He could marry Juliet. That would make things right.” Once Morgan was settled, there was no reason for Sebastian himself not to marry Juliet.

  Knighton leaped to his feet in outrage. “My God, man, are you insane? I wouldn’t let that wretch touch her, much less marry her. What kind of penance would that be? To give him the hand of that sweet girl in exchange for his treachery! The very idea is revolting!”

  Revolting was rather strong. Besides, she wasn’t a “girl” anymore, and she could make up her own mind. “She might not find it so revolting herself. She did run away with him once before.” All right, so she’d been singularly unimpressed by Sebastian’s kisses last night—but he could change that. “I’m thinking only of what’s best for your sister-in-law, you understand, and not the blow to your pride.”

  Knighton stiffened. “What’s best for Juliet isn’t that she marry a scoundrel.”

  Sebastian’s temper flared. “Then another penance, perhaps. A financial reparation? Because I’d happily offer that sort of recompense on my brother’s behalf—an ample increase to her dowry so she’d be able to find a husband regardless of any gossip.”

  Knighton drew himself up proudly. “We didn’t come here to extort money from your lordship for my sister-in-law’s misfortune, I assure you.”

  Stung by Knighton’s vitriol, Sebastian rose. “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Juliet doesn’t need any funds from you.” He glowered at Sebastian. “If I ever see your brother again, I’ll take my own vengeance. I’ll make sure he’s ruined—with the navy, in society, in business, in any way I can get at him. And I assure you I know how.”

  Undoubtedly. So much for Uncle Lew’s hope that Knighton might be reasonable.

  “But since he’s unlikely to return and I’m to be deprived of my chance,” Knighton went on, “I must content myself with helping my sister-in-law get past this nasty affair. Which means keeping her away from you. She’s recently begun to show some spirit, but that could vanish if seeing your face starts her dwelling on the past.”

  Sebastian bit back a hot retort. Seeing his face seemed only to embolden Juliet further, judging from her “spirit�
� last night. Her family didn’t know her half as well as they thought.

  Come to think of it, that was why she’d fallen in with his plans so easily the first time. She’d been sick of being coddled and treated like a child. She’d wanted to stretch her wings, and the reckless “Morgan” had let her.

  A pity that the only thing she wanted to stretch now was “Morgan’s” neck. No matter what she said about not wanting vengeance, her anger last night proved otherwise.

  “So will you do your part as a gentleman?” Knighton asked loftily.

  Sebastian gave the barest nod. “I’ll avoid your sister-in-law, if you wish.” Now if only she’d avoid him, he might make it safely through this until they departed.

  “Thank you.” Slightly mollified, Knighton strode to the door, then paused to add, “I regret that we must inconvenience you, but it can’t be helped. I assure you that as soon as the road is clear, we’ll be on our way.”

  Then he left, thank God. Sebastian had heard quite enough from Juliet’s meddling brother-in-law for one day.

  But his torment wasn’t over. An hour later, a knock at his study door presaged the entrance of Lady Rosalind. By thunder, how many people intended to plague him today? Soon Knighton’s servants would be trotting in with accusations and recriminations.

  Trying to subdue his irritation, he put aside an article on sheep shearing. “Good morning, Lady Rosalind.” He stood and indicated the chair her husband had vacated earlier. “May I help you?”

  “I hope so.” As she sat down, she flashed him a blinding smile that lit up her plump face, illustrating what must have initially attracted Knighton to her. “You see…that is…I don’t know how to begin, but I need to speak with you about…well…”

  “Lady Juliet,” he finished as he resumed his seat.

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “Call it intuition,” he said dryly. “You want me to stay away from her during your visit, I assume.” Perhaps he could move this conversation along by simply walking her through her husband’s admonitions.