He waited until he had reached fifty strokes and he felt the tension seeping out of her bones. He really would have to ask.
“Shall you be coolly polite as if to a distant acquaintance or pretend you don’t know him at all? Shall I set some of our larger stagehands to refuse him admittance to your dressing room? For if I can read a man at all, that one will not be able to resist coming back here. I’m sure as a small boy he poked sticks in anthills. I think it very obvious attending your performance was not Redsayle’s idea. I may have to have a word with darling David about these shockingly underhanded tactics. Are you ready?” Sean met her eyes in the mirror with one eyebrow raised.
“Oh Lord! He won’t come back here will he?” she sighed. “I can’t pretend to not know him. It would be considered odd and quite suspicious if I pretend not to know a neighbor I grew up with. Sebastian’s mother has never spread about all that happened before I left. Every day for seven years I’ve expected her to bring this world of mine down by labeling me her son’s jilted and cast off whore,” the bitterness was too raw in her voice and she resented that.
“My sweet, how little you understand. Not to be rude, but you just don’t comprehend conniving people. She’ll never tell even if she did guess. You are the daughter of a Peer of the Realm and what he did was not good ton. If they knew the real reason you fled your home and ended on the stage his name would be a byword. You were not some loose kneed milkmaid after all,” he paused for a moment, “You would look darling in a milkmaid costume, I will have to ponder a plot line I think.”
“I’ll have you know that being a milkmaid doesn’t mean one isn’t virtuous Sean!” She reprimanded him lightly. “Besides, he’s a man, he can do what he pleases without society so much as blinking. Milkmaid or lady the fault falls on the woman. I’m an actress now, whatever I was before.”
“I think that even the ton would look down on a man who seduced and left a girl almost as soon as her father died. A man, by the way, who had arranged an understanding with you. You were engaged for goodness sake! That awful woman, as you call her, will not take any chances. She would move heaven and earth to avoid her precious being thought of poorly by their kind. She’ll never speak of your relationship, trust me.” He continued to brush out her hair as he spoke.
“Earl or no, he is still liable to public opinion. Your public would hate anyone who tried to hurt you, or has hurt you. Not to say there aren’t some jealous tabbies out there but, you were an innocent and in mourning too. They don’t know him, only his rather wicked reputation with an assortment of foreign women. He had better watch his step. I have half a mind to write a play about it all, changing the names, but making clear exactly which lord plays the villain. He’ll have street urchins pelting him with rotten fruit.” As he knew it would, that last statement made her laugh. Her sense of the ridiculous was one of the things he liked best about her.
And with those words he began to help her with her laces as he had since Caroline, Jessy’s dresser, had gone on her wedding trip. No one thought ill of their relationship and its intimacies. All the theater going world knew that, in the vernacular, Sean was a molly. More politely one would say he preferred the company of men. So, after one look at Sebastian, Earl of Redsayle, he knew he was looking at one of the most desirable and dangerous men to ever grace London.
Too bad the man only preferred women or Sean would have a mind to toy with him and break his heart like Redsayle had broken Jessy’s. He’d never heard the man liked to play with both skirts and trousers or he could do it too, he thought. Sean, while not overly conceited, was well aware and confident of his looks and skills. He’d needed to be to compete in the London theater world.
Humility, in his experience, did not pay or play well.
Now that was a daydream, Sean smiled to himself. Revenge for a friend and pleasure for himself he sighed. No wonder Jessy was still not over the man. Oh, she insisted she was, but who could be after a taste of that tall, dark and dangerous?
CHAPTER THREE
Jessy was down to her chemise when a firm knock sounded on the door, and without waiting for a response, a tall form stepped into the room.
“I don’t recall saying enter my lord,” she looked coolly at the intruder.
“My lord this is not the green room, but a lady’s dressing room. I think that Mrs. Powers would prefer you wait outside,” Sean had straightened up with a steely look in his eye. Tall and broad shouldered Sean did not cut a figure other men took lightly.
Sebastian St Just merely eyed the two of them and then made himself at home on the damask covered chaise along one wall. Negligently he lounged, long fingers playing with his quizzing glass. God, but with that black hair and sinful mouth he really did look like the devil’s invitation to sin, Sean unconsciously licked his lips. He collected himself and put a damper on his wayward thoughts.
“Shall I remove him Jessy?” Sean asked.
Jessy was tempted to see his lordship thrown out but was wise enough to know she had been properly cornered. Large as Sean was, she had no doubts that Sebastian would not be leaving if he didn’t want to. A scene involving her and the Earl would be on the lips of every drawing room gossip by breakfast, and that was the last thing she wanted.
“No Sean, I shall give his lordship a few moments of my time, I’m sure neither of us shall require more.”
“I shall be nearby if you need me my sweet,” Sean kissed her hand gently and made his way out the door. She knew he would be as good as his word. More to keep anyone from witnessing or eavesdropping on the visit than any fear for her safety. Sean knew the ways of the beau monde too well. She also had a loaded pistol in her vanity drawer and could expertly use it. Access to her dressing room, her safety and her reputation and been carefully guarded as her career blossomed.
“To what do I owe this honor my lord Redsayle? How do you find England after your absence? It must be six or more years since last we met. I hope your mother is well?” Jessy asked with sweetness over the acid. He was really here again, some small voice in her head kept repeating. Maybe if it stopped she’d feel like she could breathe properly again. Seven years she thought. She’d know the months, days and minutes too if she allowed herself to think about it. The last time she had seen him was clearer in her mind than her own image in the mirror. He had climbed the tree outside her bedroom window, hair tousled, smiling, kissing her passionately, and making promises equally fervently. Her portmanteau had been packed and hidden, and then left waiting, and waiting.
Sebastian took a moment to answer. To say he had every clear thought tossed from his head by the picture of her with her hair down wearing only her chemise was an understatement. Like a man with no will of his own he had found himself walking back stage. Confronted with her sensual beauty he felt so many conflicting emotions he wished he could just get up and walk out. He really had to wonder about himself and his priorities.
Right now he was angry at himself for coming in here and angry at her for being so damned desirable. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but certainly not this unreasonable thirst to lay his hands on her. From the moment she had walked on the stage it had been like all the air had been sucked from the theater. Damn her for not waiting for him. Damn her for being an actress of all things. Everyone knew what that meant.
“Mrs. Powers you don’t give a damn about my mother and do you make it a habit to let men undress you after your performances? Oh yes, silly me, you’re an actress. Of course you do. Your life is very different from that of the gentlewoman you were raised to be. ” And he smiled that evil and old familiar smile she had hoped never to see directed at her. He obviously thought the married name was the usual token handle so many actresses awarded themselves without the inconvenience of a husband. She realized he was every bit as in the dark about her life in England as she was about his life in Celtica. Well, other than the salacious gossip that somehow made its way to London despite the embargo between the two countries.
It cost
her to match smile for smile before she turned her back on him, “I only let one man, at this moment undress me. It’s a selective position. Sean Powers is my brother in law and friend. Lord Carvell approves him so you certainly have no right to cast judgment.” She turned slightly to better see him reflected in the mirror and gave a slight moue of consideration. “Clearly my lord you are laboring under some misapprehensions, you’ve been from England a long while. You might consider a little study before inserting yourself back into affairs. You may find things not to be as you expect…”
He inwardly cringed at himself. He had never been so blatantly rude to a woman; his energies were more like to be focused on charming them. Why did he have such an urge to shake her until her teeth rattled and make love to her at the same time? After all these years and dozens of other women why did she get instantly under his skin again? Who was the man she had married? Why hadn’t he thought to pick David’s brain before confronting her? Where was the man she married? Lurking about back stage, setting up her assignations like so many husbands of actresses, more procurer than loving protector?
“Where might this husband be then while I visit in your dressing room?”
He leaned back clearly making himself quite at home.
“I am a widow my lord,” she stated simply. She’d be damned if she would sit here and discuss Michael with this man. She bent to take off one satin slipper, the chemise dipping low and revealing a generous view of her breasts. She caught his eyes focused like a cat on a bowl of cream and realized what she had exposed. It was truly her undoing, as the evil imp in her rose up and took over. Once she had felt herself nearly a slave to his power over her heart and body and oh wouldn’t it feel good to have him in hers? Even just for a few moments?
He found himself surge at the word widow; truly was there a more magical word? First he found out she was an actress, then that she had married and almost immediately that she was a widow. His head already spinning, he was unable to take his eyes from the slender hand that proceeded to roll down one silk stocking over a creamy and shapely calf. Certain, up until an hour ago anyway, that he would feel no compulsion to touch her, that the past would be the past, it was shocking how such a little thing could send the blood raging hot through his body. He had quickly gone from a volatile mixture of guilt and anger to pure, brainless lust.
She knew how to play the temptress. Oh she knew. How many times on stage had she played such a character? Albeit, she had always played a less obvious and less exposed one. Her only thought in the moment was to step into a role that was in control, not vulnerable. She had seen the fire that lit his eyes when she said “widow.” Such a typical man! She was the farthest thing from a whore, but it was obvious that in his mind actress, widow and whore were interchangeable words meaning available. So let him think it until he learned better and let him want what he would never have again! She wasn’t ignorant. She had heard the rumors of all the women over the years. While no regular mail passed between Celtica and England, news still managed to make it to
London. Gossip could not be stopped by any force on earth.
The first dozen times it had ripped her heart to bloody shreds. It couldn’t be clearer he hadn’t wasted a moment missing her or experiencing any regrets for their parting. She had once played into his hands, now let him play into hers.
“You’ll have to excuse me my lord, but I do have an engagement this evening and must get ready. We can converse as I dress if it won’t offend you.” And the smile came easier this time as she became her role.
“I’m quite comfortable, carry on as you please. I simply thought that we should acknowledge each other and ease the moment since our parting all those years ago. It could be a bit embarrassing to us both not to make certain we have put our youthful indiscretions behind us.” He had to move to try and ease the almost painful pressure of the erection the look of her and the familiar scent had given him. He stood and pretended to survey the artwork on her walls and made the mistake of noticing what the vanity mirror reflected as she stood at the wash basin.
She knew he could see her. She reached up to loosely catch her hair on top of her head, the thin material of the chemise tightly molding against her breasts. Bent over the basin to wash away the cosmetics, a fine view of her rounded bottom was outlined through the delicate muslin. Dipping a cloth in the water she stood up and languorously drew the damp cloth down her neck and across the tops of her breasts into the shadowed valley. The water dripped down, dampening the material. Reaching up to remove the heavy necklace from the play, it was easy to pretend she couldn’t manage to release the clasp.
The devil must have truly been in her then. She walked over to her dressing table and sat back down, trying again to release the clasp of the necklace and gave a little sigh of exasperation.
“My lord it would be kind of you to assist me with this. I just can’t seem to get this undone!” She met his eyes in the mirror and found herself drowning in amber as he slowly walked up behind her. She could not have looked away if she wanted to and in her role; the temptress never gives up the power. She would play it out come hell or high water. She’d make him want her so she could do the rejecting this time. He spoke of parting as if he had not slunk away in the dark of night without a word!
Warm fingers were at the nape of her neck and one finger trailed across her spine raising the fine hairs. The clasp came loose but Sebastian did not bother to catch the necklace. It slipped between her breasts. Their eyes met in the mirror and she knew she was in trouble the second those warm fingers slid down to retrieve the necklace. Caressing and doing far more than pulling the necklace out of her cleavage, his fingers caused her breasts to swell and heat against his hands. Her head fell back and she found herself looking into his eyes and not their reflection.
Her lips appeared to part without her volition, and a pink, moist tongue swept her lush bottom lip. He lost all control. That cascade of rose gold hair, full lips only inches from his own and the feel of her in his hands was more than a man should be required to resist. Her eyes and lips smiled at him and there was no protest as he continued to tease the nipple that had tightened enticingly between his fingers. She still wanted him it was clear and he would take. Why shouldn’t he? And that was his last coherent thought as he bent down, drawn irresistibly to taste that luscious mouth. She still tasted of summer cherries, pungent and so heady. Soft, warm and firm all at once. He filled his hands with her breasts, pushing down the chemise and tugging harder at her nipples as his tongue slid into her hot, silky mouth. He heard a groan and realized it was him. She was more abundant, soft in the fullness of her womanhood and he relished the change.
Their bodies remembered each other, ignited for each other and a chaise was so close. He lifted her and turned, guiding her to the couch. She fell back with abandon, her hair a waterfall raining down over naked breasts, her legs invitingly spread. She would make a spectacular mistress he decided. Childhood and childhood dreams were behind them. They were who they were now. He would offer her carte blanche. He could still have her. There was no reason to deny himself. She was an actress, a widow and he was rich. It was a good plan for both of them. They weren’t starry eyed children; they could still have a relationship, just not the one they had hoped for all those years ago.
What happened next was not in the plan.
One elegant foot rammed itself in his midsection as he began to join her. He looked down a bit confused and then looked up into cat green eyes that did not look heavy with desire but something else that his brain was too fogged to identify.
“Don’t you think we should discuss an arrangement before the dénouement my lord?” her voice practically purred.
Of course, he was an idiot. No woman of Jessy’s fame and beauty would lay down for any man without a monetary arrangement. Any woman with any sense would want some security against her future and the possibility of becoming with child. He thought as fast as his blood depleted brain would allow, hurrying his word
s in his eagerness to satisfy himself. He hadn’t been this lacking in sophistication in years!
“I shall arrange for a good house of course, a generous monthly stipend and enough jewelry to satisfy any woman. From now on have your milliner bills sent to me. An exclusive arrangement. I will be your only protector from now on.”
“Ah the carte blanche in effect.” She smiled slowly and with clear satisfaction.
Sebastian lowered himself toward her feeling nothing but hunger and impatience to plunge himself into her. Would she feel like she had years ago?
But suddenly he found himself falling, possibly tripping? What? To the couch.
Jessy had rolled off the couch and now stood smiling down at him where he sprawled inelegantly. What the deuce was going on here? As he looked up into her eyes he felt a wave of hot anger wash over him. He knew that look and it wasn’t the one he was wanting or expecting. The vixen!
“Oh I know that color my lord. You are very angry. Figured it out? You thought I would just fall back into your arms after all that occurred between us, the humiliation you put me through in the past?” She, rather violently, pulled the chemise back up over her breasts, “Once you asked me to be your wife, and now I should take the title of mistress? You are an arrogant, ridiculous man. Tidy yourself up sir and let yourself out.” She turned away and sat down at the vanity before casually looking back over one ivory shoulder, “When I take a lover my lord, it will come with marriage, and one with,” her eyes roved down his body to the bulge still evident through his form fitting trousers, “much larger assets.”
ROOK AND RAVEN: The Celtic Kingdom Trilogy Book One Page 3