“Why were you so restless, Miss Ashby?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
He moved to the other end of the table, his dark blue eyes on her. “I had a very distressing problem to solve.”
“About what?”
“Shopping.”
He was funning with her. No man thought about shopping, especially a rake like Ravenswood. He only thought about vice.
“And you, Miss Ashby?” He scored another point. “What kept you awake?”
The relentless attention of one dashing rogue, she mused, still piqued. But she wouldn’t tell him that. Instead she decided to have a bit of fun herself.
“A mouse,” she said.
“How dreadful.”
“A rat, really. I tried to shoo the pest away, but he just kept coming back. Stubborn little bugger.”
Sebastian missed his shot.
Henrietta lifted her brows. “Oh, is it my turn?”
She swished her hips and moved to the other end of the table.
She could feel Sebastian’s hot gaze on her back the entire time. It seared her right through her clothes.
Concentrating hard, Henrietta struck the red ball. She missed Sebastian’s cue ball, but still, one more point for her.
“A rat, eh?” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t scream.”
She snorted. “I’m not afraid of a wee rodent.”
“That’s very unusual—for a woman.”
“Rot!” Another score. “I would never make such ungodly racket.”
“I’ve heard you make ungodly racket before, Miss Ashby.”
She stiffened. The dark timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine. He was alluding to the wicked night she’d spent in his arms; the cries and groans of sweet passion that he’d ripped from her throat.
Memory of those sinful encounters, so full of pleasure, stormed her weary mind. She tried to shoo the haunting sentiments aside and concentrate on the game, but alas, it was fruitless. She missed her shot. Drat!
He said in a soft voice, “I see it’s my turn again.”
Henrietta meshed her lips together. How could the rogue still affect her so? How could the sound of his watery voice still make her sweat and her body ache?
Sebastian made his shot. Two points for him.
She pinched her lips even more. He was trying to make her lose, the blackguard. She had to get ahold of her scattered wits. She had to win this wager if she wanted the bounder to keep away from her.
“Yes, my lord, you are very familiar with ungodly ways, aren’t you?”
Sebastian made his shot. He nicked her cue ball. Another two points for him. But he did not return to the game right away. Instead he propped the end of his cue stick against the ground and rested his hands over the tip.
Henrietta could feel the caress of his eyes. Her flesh warmed; her bones trembled. She tried to still the rampant beats of her heart, but the long stare he gave her only made her even more jittery.
“You and I are about to be married, Miss Ashby…Perhaps I intend to reform my ungodly ways and start anew.”
“A rogue cannot reform his ways,” she countered, her breath a bit uneven. “Those were your words, my lord.”
“And you believed me?”
She huffed. Was he funning with her again? It was deuced hard to tell when he set his smoldering eyes on her like that. She had the profound impulse to pick up the hem of her skirt and start fanning herself.
“I believe you are a scoundrel, Ravenswood.”
“I was, true…but I think it’s time for a change.”
At last he broke away from her eyes.
Henrietta let out a little sigh, for another moment more, and she’d be reduced to a pile of cinder.
“And why change now?”
Sebastian made another shot. One more point for him. Drat!
“Well, we are about to wed, Miss Ashby. A change seems fitting. A fresh start for both you and me.”
She didn’t believe him, but wondered anyway, “And how do you intend to change?”
“Ah, that is the difficult part, so I will need your help, I’m afraid.”
Henrietta widened her eyes. “Why do you need my help?”
“Well, I cannot go it alone, Miss Ashby. I need someone to be my moral guide.”
“Rot! If you want to change your wicked habits, you can do so by yourself.”
He lifted a brow. “You mean the way you seduced me without any instruction?”
Her breath hitched. “I never…”
His head cocked. “You tried.”
Henrietta gathered her garbled words. “That was different.”
“How so?”
“It was a foolish mistake. I should never have gone to see Madam Jacqueline.”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. It was a terrible blunder, very imprudent.”
Was he berating her about inappropriate conduct? The hypocritical knave! “How dare you!”
“Is something the matter, Miss Ashby? I was only agreeing with you.”
Henrietta clamped her lips shut. She squeezed the cue stick hard.
After a moment of repose, she gritted, “And what will you do once you’ve reformed your ways?”
Sebastian took another shot. “Oh, I don’t know. Take on the role of straitlaced husband. Have a brat or two…Oh, never mind about the brats. I’m not to touch you—ever. But I’d like to give the ordinary, respectable life a try.”
The urge to slam her cue stick over the billiard table was hard to tamp. The miserable wretch! He was spouting everything she’d wanted to hear from him in the past. But it was all a lie. He was a devious sort. For some nefarious reason, he wanted her to believe him, to lower her guard.
Well, she’d do no such thing. She refused to believe a man like Ravenswood could change. It was impossible. He was too much of a scoundrel to ever reform. And even if he ever changed, the transformation would be short-lived. In a few weeks or months he’d tire of the “ordinary, respectable” life. He’d go back to his vile club and surrender to his old degenerate ways. And she was not going to be the wife left behind in tears. Never! If the rogue wanted to dabble with respectability, he’d have to find some other poor woman to play house with.
“Well, Miss Ashby, it looks like I’ve won.”
Too engrossed with her distressing thoughts, Henrietta had lost track of the game. But it appeared the bounder was right. He’d scored the most points.
Why did she keep losing every wager?
Sebastian set his cue stick across the billiard table. “And for your challenge loss, I request your presence…in my bedchamber.”
Chapter 22
Henrietta stared at Sebastian’s closed bedroom door.
He’d retired from the billiard room ahead of her, she needing a moment to gather her scattered wits. She just knew he was a villain, no matter the gallant pretense. He was going to woo her, she was sure. Try and coax from her a sexual favor of some sort. That’s probably why he’d agreed to stay at the house in the first place; to have his way with her. He was privy to the months she’d spent under Madam Jacqueline’s tutelage. He likely wanted to see for himself just how much she had learned from the courtesan. Surely he believed he had a “husbandly” right to do so.
A reformed rogue, indeed.
She took in a deep breath, a jumble of jitters in her belly. The bounder might have bid her to join him in his bedchamber, but she’d no intention of submitting to his wicked charms. Certainly not. She was going to honor her challenge loss by coming to his room. But that was all she was going to do.
Fingers trembling, Henrietta rapped on the door.
“Enter.”
He had such a booming voice.
She quelled a shiver and pushed open the heavy barrier. She stepped inside the room.
The scent of cologne greeted her. Henrietta inhaled the spicy fragrance and tried to ignore the heady effect it had on her.
“How good of you to join me, Miss A
shby.”
She snapped her attention to the viscount.
He stood by the bed, shoulder propped against the ornate bedpost in a very suggestive pose. To make matters worse, he wasn’t wearing his coat; it was flung over a chair in a careless manner. Only the crisp white of his shirt was stretched across the taut muscles of his strapping chest. It was open, too. Just a tad. The white fabric parted at the neck, a tuft of dark curls evident.
Henrietta was in deep trouble.
She licked her lips. “Of course I came. Are you suggesting I would dishonor my word?”
The smoldering look in his eyes made it hard to sound petulant. It made it hard to breathe, too. She had an absurd urge to wriggle free of her warm and confining corset. The man really was a rogue. One smoky look and he had her wanting to shed her clothes. Blast it!
“I have the utmost faith in you, Miss Ashby.” The deep rumble of his voice tickled her spine. “You would never break your vow.”
Henrietta ignored the patter of her heart to affirm, “That’s right. I’m not a coward, you know?”
Sebastian moved away from the bedpost. He sauntered toward her, each deliberate step provocative, mesmerizing.
Henrietta could feel the nerves coil in her belly. She didn’t budge, though. The door was open behind her. She was safe. Really.
“I know, Miss Ashby. You are very brave.”
The husky drawl of his voice made her toes curl. He paused in front of her, the rich musk of him swirling around her, making her a bit dizzy with giddy euphoria.
Her words trembled, “Why have you summoned me here?”
Eyes dark and intent, he pressed his thumb to the swell of her cheek. “I have something for you.”
Her breath hitched at his tender touch; her pulse tapped hard and fast. “You do?”
He stroked her cheek in an oh-so-gentle caress. “Something I think you’ll like very much.”
He was going to kiss her. She could sense it. Every nerve inside her was fluttering. Well, he was going to get a sound smack for his impudence. Maybe even a bite on the lips, the bounder.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
Hypnotized, Henrietta’s lashes fluttered closed. She was woozy on her feet. Her lips pouted…and something nestled in her hands.
“Open your eyes, Miss Ashby.”
She blinked. A black velvet purse with golden cords rested between her palms. “What, no kisses?”
Drat! Had she said that aloud again?
“No kisses, Miss Ashby.” Mirth sparkled in his delft blue eyes. “I am a gentleman, remember? I will honor your sincere wish. I will never touch you in that way again.”
She twisted her lips. “What is this?”
“A Christmas present.”
“Christmas was last week.”
“And I apologize for my belated gift,” he said, voice contrite.
She wrinkled her brow. “But why are you giving me a present?”
“Can’t a man give his betrothed a gift?”
She made a moue.
“Go on,” he said. “Open it.”
With a sigh, fearing this some sort of trick, Henrietta slowly opened the little velvet purse and reached inside the blackness.
Her fingers struck something cold. Glass?
Carefully she removed a small glass globe, perched on a wooden stand. Inside the globe were two figurines, intertwined…dancing. She shook the globe; the water inside swished and little bits of white resin swirled together like snow.
It reminded her of the engagement party, dancing with Sebastian under a tender snowfall.
Her heart pinched.
“Do you like it?” he said, eyes intent upon her.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. And if anyone but Sebastian had given her the present, she would have been touched.
But knowing it came from him, knowing it came from the one who’d crushed all her girlhood dreams, made it bittersweet.
Why was he doing this to her? she wondered. He wasn’t acting like a rogue. He was acting like the hero she had always wanted him to be. But she knew it was a lie, a façade. And she didn’t understand why he was being so cruel.
A muffle of female voices filled the house just then, her sisters. Shouts about “flowers” and “water” echoed throughout. The blooms from the hothouse must have arrived.
“You should go, Miss Ashby, before your sisters discover us together. We don’t want to cause another scandal, do we?”
It was growing dark. Sebastian journeyed across the snowy land, looking for Henrietta.
She’d disappeared from the house a short while ago. He wasn’t alarmed, though; he suspected her whereabouts. But he was confused.
Earlier that day, he’d made the chit tear up with his gift. That was a good thing, right? A lass often wept with joy, so she must have liked the present…Then why was she still avoiding him?
The viscount grimaced. Henrietta was so unlike an ordinary lass. It was deuced hard, reading the whimsical chit sometimes: a quandary he had never faced before. It had always been so easy for him to see a woman’s thoughts in her eyes. Not so with Henrietta. He sensed many conflicting sentiments whenever he looked at her. She clearly wanted his kisses, he thought with a grin, but sometimes it also seemed as if she wanted to jab her cue stick into his eye.
Sebastian’s smile faded. Evidently the girl was still miffed with him. The gift had somehow failed to impress her. So what was he going to do now?
Sebastian could hear the steel blades cutting the ice. Soon the pond came into view…and a lone shadow skating over the icy surface.
He stood back for a minute, watching Henrietta, thinking about the time he had skated in her arms. She was so determined to be different. So stubborn, too. And she was a feisty sprite. Bedding her would be bliss. Now if only he could convince the chit life under the covers with him wouldn’t be so abysmal.
Sebastian ambled over to the pond’s edge. “It’s late.”
Henrietta skated to a stop. In the twilight, it was hard to see her eyes, but he could feel her fierce stare.
“What are you doing here, Ravenswood?”
“I’ve come to escort you back to the house,” he said. “It’s almost dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She skated off, the willful chit.
Sebastian glared after her. He couldn’t follow her onto the ice; he had no skates. He had to find some other way to coax her off the frozen pond.
“Miss Ashby, I cannot leave you alone on the ice.”
He had to raise his voice; she’d skated to the pond’s other edge.
“And why not?” came the indignant retort.
“Because I am a gentleman, Miss Ashby, and I cannot abandon you in the wilderness.”
She had beguiled him once with just such a rejoinder. Now he had used her own words against her. Apparently she didn’t appreciate that, for he heard her snort across the pond.
He said, “Your father would have my head if I let you get eaten by a bear.”
Was that a “good riddance” he’d heard?
Sebastian sighed. She was going to be very obstinate, wasn’t she?
“It’s getting dark,” he tried next. “You won’t be able to find your way back home.”
“I can see the lights in the house just fine from here.”
True. Blast it! It appeared he didn’t have any other choice but to go after the mulish girl.
Sebastian tested the ice with the tip of his boot. He didn’t fare too well with skating blades. Perhaps he might fare better without them.
He would soon find out.
With a tentative step, he rested one boot on the ice.
Still standing.
He took another step.
Again, he was still standing.
Encouraged, he slid one boot in front of the other.
Big mistake.
Sebastian landed on his rump with a wicked thump.
A bit dazed, he took a moment
to hear the lyrical laughter.
So the little vixen took pleasure in his foolery? Funny, but he didn’t mind. Making her laugh, that was. Hearing the musical chortle was rather infectious, and he found himself grinning, too. Good thing it was too dark for her to see. He didn’t want her to think he enjoyed making an ass of himself.
But as long as she wasn’t crying or cursing him, he was content to let her have her fun.
“I’m glad you are amused, Miss Ashby.”
“Encore!” She giggled.
Staggering, Sebastian tried to regain his balance. “Didn’t you once promise to catch me if I fell?”
“And you believed me?” she quipped, using his words against him this time.
In the end, Sebastian surrendered to the ice and sat down, the cold, wet surface chilling his arse.
“It looks like I need your help, Miss Ashby.”
“Rot!”
“I need you for balance, I’m afraid.”
She humphed.
“Really, Miss Ashby, I’m stranded without you.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Just crawl back to shore.”
“The devil I will! A man of my station on his hands and knees? Outrageous.”
She skated to the center of the ice, but no farther. “You would rather a mere chit assist you?”
“I would rather my betrothed assist me.”
She was silent again.
“You have a way of getting into trouble, Ravenswood,” she said after a brief pause.
As do you, he reflected, but thought it prudent to keep the sentiment to himself.
“Does this mean you’ll help me, Miss Ashby?”
She huffed. “I suppose so.”
A loud crack.
Sebastian scrambled to his knees. “Henry, don’t move!”
Henrietta froze.
But it happened again, the splinter of ice.
“Sebastian!”
“Henry, be still!” he cried. “I’m coming!”
With care, Sebastian started to crawl across the ice. His heart throbbing, the most vile hurt hacked at his breast, taking his breath away, his very wits.
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