Sebastian stared at her. Even in her present muddied, grass-stained, disheveled state with her long curls dripping wet, Gwen was ravishing and he was enjoying playing doctor far too much for his own good. His throbbing loins told him so.
His great coat slipped off her shoulders and Sebastian’s arousal hardened at the sight of her wet, transparent shirt clinging to her breasts. Rounded, half hidden by her corset, the rosy tips of the globes surrounding her nipples could be seen through the wet, clinging fabric.
He was certain she had no idea how much she was revealing however he remained acutely aware as he moved his examination upward. He stroked her shoulders and she shuddered.
“Does this hurt?” He asked in a husky voice, glimpsing her bosom swell then fall with every breath she took.
“No. I felt a chill,” she whispered in a shaky voice.
His hands continued their exploration down her shoulder to her arm as he checked elbow, wrist, and fingers, inspecting every last inch of her until Sebastian moved to her other arm and repeated the process. From the corner of his eye, he caught her breasts once again, her chest heaving up and down.
He shifted his gaze to her creamy neck, noting the wet mahogany ringlets clinging to it.
His attention returned lower to her breasts, where he was certain that her nipples were at the heights of attention for him. He longed to free Gwen of her corset and confirm his suspicions. He touched her ribs under the pretense of seeking a break.
A throaty moan escaped Gwen’s lips.
Sebastian jerked his hands away. “Have I hurt you?” he asked, his tone rough.
Gwen remained silent, as if she couldn’t find her voice. A bright pink blush crept over her cheeks as her intense gaze locked with his.
He was fighting his inner demon. His conscience demanded he escort her home immediately yet his hands ached to continue their perusal. Gwen had ignited an inferno within his body and he sensed the passion he had kindled within her.
Sebastian longed to explore her alluring curves. He longed to kiss her luscious lips. It was madness to do so but he wanted to feel – no he needed to feel – her lips against his just this once.
After all, what harm could possibly come from one innocent kiss?
Spreading his hands wide atop her ribs, Sebastian bent forward to kiss her. He heard a catch in her breath as his lips covered hers in a soft kiss, which deepened upon her lack of response. He moved his palms upward, over Gwen’s ribs then her breasts as a barely audible moan escaped her throat. He sensed that the simple touch had sent shock waves throughout her body.
It thrilled him. So much so that he withdrew his lips from hers to witness the passion emanating from her eyes. She then leaned into him and it was almost his undoing.
As Sebastian brushed his lips over hers again, joy swelled in his heart. She tasted as sweet as he imagined.
Reading Gwen’s acceptance, he traced the outline of her heart-shaped lips with his tongue before prying for entry. Her lips parted, his tongue making contact with hers. She shuddered at the exchange and arched into him as a surge of desire united them both.
Sebastian used all the strength he could muster to fight the urge to remove her blouse and explore her breasts. Even in his present state of seduction, he knew Gwen deserved better than some romp in the rain.
The fact that Sebastian fought against the urge to take her virtue proved that he wasn’t the man he used to be. Years before his mother’s death, he would have done so without looking back.
He was no longer that man.
Sebastian’s thumb stroked her cheek. He was teasing her senseless and Gwen trembled with excitement.
Dear God she yearned for more.
Gwen knelt before him as she inched her hands over the wet fabric of Sebastian’s shirt, his muscles twitching in immediate response to her delicate touch. Her fingers then crept higher and settled into the slick raven hair at the nape of his neck while his tongue continued to explore her mouth. First slowly, then his pace quickened.
She had never been kissed like this. How was she supposed to respond? Her instinct told her to follow his lead and use her own tongue, as he was doing. Tentatively, she explored with her own and it felt extraordinary.
His embrace tightened, as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. Sebastian then placed his hands on her buttocks and raised her onto his lap, confirming her suspicions. Gwen straddled him as his hands massaged the damp nape of her neck. Gradually, he traced the length of her spine with his fingertips and she quivered with delight beneath his touch.
Sebastian returned his hand to her neck, stroking her creamy flesh as he lessened the kiss. By the time their mouths separated, both were gasping for air, breathless from their shared passion.
He held her on his lap, stroking her neck, for an inexhaustible amount of time, listening to the last few droplets of rain now falling from the canopy of leaves above them.
Gwen rested her head on his shoulder. Her previous courage to explore Sebastian’s mouth abated as anxiety and guilt over her lack of self-restraint seeped in. She quickly became fearful of what he must think of her. Ladies didn’t behave in such a manner, especially ladies betrothed to other men!
“Why were you riding by yourself?” Sebastian asked, his rich baritone interrupting her silent flogging.
She turned to face him, certain her cheeks must be a brilliant shade of pink. “I needed time away from my father and since Tristan has returned to London, I went riding alone.”
“Sounds innocent enough,” Sebastian drawled, offering her a slight smile before his sarcasm set in. “You did, however, almost kill yourself maneuvering that hill.”
It was time to admit the truth.
She averted her gaze but only briefly. Her pride dictated she face him. “My father has arranged my betrothal to a man I don’t wish to marry and I have been unable to dissuade him. Being cooped up in our manor, listening to his blind devotion to Keir, the man he insists I marry … I felt like I was going insane. The only thing I thought that I could control was my horse. Instead I allowed my emotions, my desire to escape, override my common sense with disastrous results.”
“Let me see if I understand this.” Sebastian caressed her shoulder as he spoke. “Your father wants you to wed a man named Keir?”
Gwen nodded in agreement.
“What’s his last name, dare I ask?”
“Dunlop.”
Sebastian feigned indignation. “Why would your father ever want you to marry a man with such a ridiculous name?”
“He is a Scot,” Gwen retorted.
“That explains the ridiculous name,” he smirked, causing his dimples to deepen. “But my original question remains: why does your father want you to marry him? And why is it that you don’t wish to marry him, all qualms about his ridiculous name aside?”
He’s not you. She bit the inside of her lip to avoid speaking the words. “He’s a longtime friend of my father’s and Papa loves Keir like a son. I suppose that’s why he thinks it is a splendid match, along with the fact that Keir is Scottish. My father is loyal to his ancestry. Did I mention Keir is an earl? That is another possibility.”
Sebastian’s brow creased, “Why the hurry to see you wed?”
“Papa’s health has been deteriorating. It’s his wish to see me wed before his passing.”
“This is a fine mess you have made for yourself, Miss MacAlistair.” Sebastian’s voice was calm, his gaze steady, as he placed a curl behind her ear with his fingers. “A Scottish earl fiancé and yet here you sit upon an English duke’s lap.”
The heat in her cheeks intensified as the full weight of Gwen’s shame anchored her to reality.
“Perhaps,” he added in a low, husky voice, “here is where you ought to be.”
As Gwen struggled to assimilate his words, Sebastian shifted her onto the ground then stood, offering her his hand.
“I must take you home this instant, before your father organizes a search party.”
Despite her objections, Sebastian nonetheless escorted her home. Back to being a lady of her standing, she tied her hair back and dusted off what mud had already dried on her clothes. With Sebastian’s agreement, she wore his great coat, fully buttoned, so no one would notice her disheveled clothing.
Gwen extracted one more promise from him, that Sebastian wouldn’t mention her fall, since her father would never let her go riding again if he knew of it.
On their way, Sebastian devised a story close enough to the truth without being a complete fabrication. He would say that he found Gwen caught in the rain, offered her his great coat and waited out the storm with her before returning her home. After all, gentlemen did not leave ladies alone during a driving storm. To do so would be bad form.
They arrived at Ainsley amidst an uproar.
“Where in the hell have you been, Gwendolyn?” Gwen’s father thundered. “I gave you no permission to go—”
Upon seeing his daughter’s companion, Lachlan stood slack-jawed for a moment before gathering his manners. “I apologize, Your Grace. I wasn’t aware that you were present.”
“I found Gwen under a tree that borders our properties,” Sebastian began the dialogue they had rehearsed. “It was during a bout of pouring rain and I waited out the storm with her. I thought it only proper that I ensure she returned home safely.”
“Thank you for escorting my daughter home,” Lachlan replied.
Sebastian gave the man a reluctant grin. “I’m happy that I could be of service.”
“Please join us for dinner tomorrow evening,” Lachlan suggested. “I also extend the invitation to your sister, Your Grace. It is the least I can do to repay your kindness toward my daughter.”
Although her father’s tone was steady, Gwen couldn’t help but feel his words were somewhat forced and that his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.
No one else seemed to notice, at least not that she could discern.
“We would be honored to attend,” Sebastian replied, about to take his leave. He reached for Gwen’s hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “Please hold onto my coat. I’ll retrieve it tomorrow evening.”
Gwen blushed at the mention of removing his coat while her pulse quickened as Sebastian’s lips brushed against her hand, his breath warming it. She was certain that no matter how long she lived, the memory of his passionate kisses and the sensations they awakened within her would never fade.
Immediately following his departure, Gwen’s maid asserted herself. “You’ll catch a death of a fever if you don’t warm yourself, Miss.”
The irony was that Gwen felt quite warm whenever she thought of the Duke, which was almost every minute since their encounter in the rain.
Gwen spent the remainder of that evening and the following day on tenterhooks until the dinner hour when she would again see Sebastian. Each and every time she shamefully reveled in the sweet taste of his lips and the warm, gentle touch of his caresses, her memories were accompanied by a deep sigh of disappointment because such events would never happen again. She was betrothed and Sebastian now knew of it.
Still she found herself wondering where all of his amorous advances would have led if she weren’t promised to another man and she found herself struggling to find a viable way out of her unwanted betrothal. Try as she might, no solution offered itself to her – at least none that wouldn’t endanger her father’s delicate health or fracture her family’s reputation.
In spite of her demure wardrobe, Gwen was determined to look her most attractive for this evening’s guests. She chose a violet gown with a high neckline and small violet buttons trailing all the way down her back.
Jane tightened Gwen’s corset until she flinched. When Gwen stood before her reflection in the mirror, she had to admit the pain was well worth it, for her petite waist looked glorious.
The gown was so snug that it showed off all of her curves and, if she dared admit it to herself, she looked rather seductive in spite of her lack of bare skin.
Her determination to please Sebastian overrode all else, yet a small voice inside kept asking why was she going to all the effort when nothing would come of it?
She wanted to see him smile at her the way he did when they were alone, that unguarded and appreciative gaze she adored to distraction.
Gwen coiled an unruly curl back into place. Her long wavy tresses flowed down her back, tied at the nape with an antique violet-colored clip. Dangling from her earlobes were amethysts that had once belonged to her mother.
Upon final inspection in front of the mirror, she was quite pleased. Holding her arms out, Gwen twirled. “What do you think?”
Misty-eyed, her maid whispered in awe, “You’ve never looked so beautiful, Miss.”
Gwen grinned before rushing downstairs to join her father and Tristan, who had returned from London that afternoon. While descending the staircase, she halted in mid-step, delighted to see a pair of piercing indigo eyes watching her from the foyer. The expression on Sebastian’s face was one of open admiration causing her heartbeat to quicken in immediate response.
His was just the look she’d been hoping for.
Sebastian met Gwen halfway up the stairs then offered his arm. As she placed her hand upon it, he leaned toward her the said in a husky whisper, “You look exquisite.”
She was at a loss for words. Somehow, a mere “thank you” didn’t seem sufficient. Instead she offered Sebastian a warm smile.
Gwen felt time stand still until her brother cleared his throat to garner their attention. Sebastian escorted her to the foyer where they joined their siblings.
Tristan kissed his sister on her cheek before whispering in her ear, “Don’t you look lovely. Who might you be trying to impress this evening?”
Even through his whisper she recognized his teasing manner. She responded in kind by mumbling, “You would know if you had remained here with me, now wouldn’t you?”
She then turned to Sebastian’s sister. “You look absolutely beautiful, Victoria, but when don’t you?”
Tori reached out and hugged her tight. “I’m not near as radiant as you are tonight.”
“Father is waiting in the library,” Tristan announced, offering his arm to Gwen. They then led their small party into the library where the elder MacAlistair awaited them.
The room was furnished in varying shades of burgundy while rosewood bookshelves adorned each wall. Sebastian crossed to one of the bookshelves and read some of the titles until a vivid watercolor painting above the fireplace mantle drew his attention. It featured a shimmering lake and bright pastel flowers. He studied the scene, and Gwen’s words while at the edge of his lake came back to him.
I think I’ve seen heaven.
As if reading his thoughts, Gwen joined him and whispered, “I wanted you to see our library for that very painting. It reminds me of your lake. Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s almost like seeing heaven,” he murmured.
Victoria approached them, interrupting Sebastian’s quiet moment with Gwen. “What beautiful art.” She turned to her brother. “Doesn’t that look just like our lake?”
Gwen began to explain who the talented artist was before her father startled everyone by intoning in a rather abrupt manner, “It is time for our meal. Everyone into the dining room, please.”
He ushered the group to the dining room, uttering indistinguishable words under his breath in a low tone.
After they were seated, Tristan and Sebastian conversed about the young MacAlistair’s law business. Their conversation bored Lachlan and he refused to join in. Instead, he studied his guest, noting with disgust that he resembled the late duke.
Lachlan fought to keep his expression neutral, his mind racing.
You shouldn’t have brought her back here.
Had he miscalculated? He’d been forced to flee his home in Scotland until after Gwen’s wedding. It was the only way he could ensure the marriage would take place without disruption.
But he failed
to predict how events here would unfold, with Tristan showing up at all the wrong times and the presence of the Duke, who rarely tore his gaze from Gwen.
Fearing that he had indeed miscalculated, he silently fought to calm his taut nerves. After all, it didn’t matter. Even if Davenport was smitten with his daughter, Lachlan wouldn’t allow her to back out of his contract with Keir. He’d worked too hard at it to see it all crumble around him.
Lachlan rose from his chair determined this evening would be the last time Gwen saw the ninth Duke of Davenport.
Placing a hand on his forehead as if feigning a headache, he said in his most feeble of voices, “If you’ll excuse me, I am feeling ill. I’m afraid I must retire for the evening.”
“I will help you upstairs, Papa,” Gwen offered, just as he suspected she would.
“Gentlemen,” Lachlan fought to hide the contempt in his tone before adding, “Lady Victoria, I apologize.”
He then offered a frail bow, and as his daughter arrived at his side, Tristan stood.
“Here, Father, let me take you upstairs. Gwen, you entertain our guests.”
“No, Tristan, I require your sister’s attention,” Lachlan said, his tone terse. He paused, and as if all was settled, he added, “Enjoy your meal. Your Grace, Lady Victoria, goodnight.”
As she exited the dining room with her father, Gwen sent a look of apology to Sebastian.
“I was unaware that your father was ill, Tristan. I hope we didn’t impose too much.” Victoria then asked Tristan in an alarmed tone, “Will he be all right?”
Tristan stared at the door as he returned to his seat, his controlled tone flat. “I believe my father will be fine now.”
Gwen attempted to leave several times; however, during each instance her father requested something else of her. After what seemed like a lifetime had passed, he allowed her to leave his side at last.
Because she had been gone so long, Gwen was certain their guests had already left so instead she traveled downstairs in search of her brother. Following the tinkling chimes of random pianoforte keys, she found Tristan at last. Their guests, to her great surprise, had remained.
Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) Page 6