A Promise of More

by Bronwen Evans

  Beatrice tried to twist round in the tub but his arms held her where he wanted her. “But you promised we would do that together.”

  He continued to stroke her breasts, pressing soft kisses down her neck before he said, “I’m going to visit Clarice Hudson, Doogie’s mistress. I can’t see how I can take you with me. It would be most inappropriate and we don’t want to alert anyone who may be watching that we are onto them. Besides, I think it could be dangerous. I’m unsure of the reception I’ll get.”

  He watched Beatrice bite her lip and consider his words. Finally she nodded. “All right. I trust you. I will go to the ball. But I will be waiting for you. I want to know everything when you get home.”

  He kept up a gentle caress. With light pressure, he began massaging, making small circles with the tips of his fingers. The flesh beneath his touch rippled under her skin. Her body was one massive knot, no doubt from the lies she told. “Just try to relax and feel my touch,” Sebastian murmured. “Let the water’s warmth seduce you.”

  He heard her exhale as she surrendered to his ministrations, and he earnestly set about his task, using his fingers to work the strained, tight muscles in her shoulders, his thumbs pressing more deeply into the worst knots. When he struck a particularly painful spot, she arched in protest, but made no sound. Eventually he shifted lower, moving over the silken skin of her lower back, slowly kneading down her back with his fingers, pressing with the heels of his hands. Finally, she gave a low moan.

  He covered every inch of skin, the silken texture stirring his own ardor. He could feel her shoulders slowly soften, the tension easing from her body as his rose, desire spearing to his gut. The soft, silky-smooth flesh beneath his fingers seemed suddenly hot.

  Slowly he let his hands slide down her back again, his palms molding to her curves, the silky softness. She must have sensed the difference in his touch, for he felt a sharp tautness in her body at his intentional caresses.

  He felt her hesitation before she slowly turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the tub. His heart beat in an erratic pulse as she looked at him. She was aroused. He recognized the signs in any woman. The molten heat in her gaze only heightened the wild urges rioting within him. How could he want her so when she could be deceiving him?

  Holding his gaze with her passionate intensity, she said, “I have an hour before I have to dress for the ball. Did you have something on your mind?”

  He leaned forward and ran a finger down her breast, circling the tip of her stiff nipple. “I’m sure I can think of something to while away the time.”

  Her lips parted and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, making his erection twitch. “Why is it that I’m the only one looking flustered then?”

  “You’ll enjoy it more if I stay in control. But you do affect me—powerfully. Feel.” And Sebastian took her hand and put it on his erection.

  At her moan, he drew her down to him, trapping her so she lay fully against his hard length while his arms came around her.

  His mouth almost touching hers, he brought her even closer, pressing her lower body against the rigid, swelling flesh at his groin, letting her feel his arousal.

  “We can’t make love here,” she said in an embarrassed voice.

  “I could make love to you anywhere,” Sebastian whispered hungrily, and he realized he meant the words. His warm breath caressed her lips when he spoke. “I want you now.”

  He didn’t give her any chance to answer. His mouth covered hers, the kiss hard and fervent, demanding and desperate at the same time. He felt a dark need in him as his tongue slid urgently into her mouth.

  He hadn’t lied. She did have a powerful effect on him. He pushed the concern out of his mind—she shouldn’t. He focused solely on her, naked in his tub, and he wanted her thinking only of him.

  Betrayal flashed in his mind when he thought about the hackney trip that she had taken this afternoon. They would talk later tonight and he would learn why she lied.

  A moan sounded deep in her throat and her fingers clutched reflexively at the taut muscles of his shoulders. He let his mind release his darker thoughts and focus on the present, on the feel of the woman in his arms.

  His hands came up to cup her breasts, his palms pressing against her hardened nipples, the fullness filling his hands. A streak of fire shot through Beatrice and she let out an instinctive whimper.

  She could feel Sebastian’s determined control as he brushed kisses soft as butterfly wings against her lips, along her jaw, the skin of her throat. One time she would like to see his control dissolve. Would she ever be the type of woman that could drive him wild with lust?

  Still nuzzling, he eased her legs on either side of his hard thighs. The heat of his gaze never faltered as he surveyed her wet, glistening flesh. His brazen scrutiny made her cheeks flame. When his hands molded to the swelling curves, they seemed warmer than the water.

  He drew out his caresses, as if determined to arouse her until she lost her mind.

  The slow, languid motion was unbelievably sensual coupled with the caress of the water. She tensed, preparing herself for the rush of feelings she knew would come when he bent to capture a nipple with his mouth. Her breath fled as he suckled her. Heat flooded through her, while a nearly unbearable ache curled low in the pit of her stomach and between her thighs. For long minutes, his lips and tongue aroused her. It was tantalizing, intoxicating, sending thrills of sensation to every nerve in her body.

  His hands stroked down her back, tracing the curve of her hips, her buttocks, making slow, kneading circles. Her head fell back with contentment, and she sighed at the sweet pleasure of his touch. Finally his lips left her breasts and traced a blazing path back up her throat. His breath was hot in her ear when he asked, “Do you like this?”

  “Only with you.”

  His eyes grew darker, if that was possible. He seemed enthralled and fascinated by her response. Her response seemed to intensify his hunger. She felt the same. She felt beautiful when he looked at her like this.

  A drugged, dreamy languor filled her as his hands slid down her body again, sensually caressing. Slowly his palm moved under the water, over her thigh to her belly, then lower to the curls at the juncture of her thighs. When he found the most tender, vibrant part of her body, Beatrice shivered. He cupped her, stroking, then one finger slid slowly into her, making her gasp aloud. His face smiled, but his eyes remained heated and fixed on her. He went on exploring, arousing, his teasing fingers gliding inside her … lingering … withdrawing … only to begin all over again.

  At his rhythmic assault, desire swelled dizzily within her, along with a wanton excitement. Beatrice couldn’t help arching against him, her breasts seeking closer contact with his naked chest.

  Once again, he guided her hand to his loins, to the male member that swelled so rigidly erect against her abdomen. Even in the heated water, it felt hot, throbbing to the touch. She heard him breathe deep. His eyes burned as his hands went to her hips and lifted her up, centering her over his engorged phallus, only to gently lower her again.

  His entry was infinitely slow and careful. Her body responded with a slick feminine need. Even so, she felt every inch of him as he impaled her. Sitting atop him, she felt stretched and penetrated almost to the breaking point.

  His warm lips touched her fluttering eyelids, her cheeks, her lips; so gentle but with a masculine strength behind each touch, the contrast driving her desire even higher. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her either, and his hands closed over her hips and he drew her the slightest degree nearer, lifting her and then slowly lowering her.

  The pleasure kindled and erupted into flames that made her shudder. He repeated the action. When she felt his hard, masculine flesh press deeper, filling her, she could do nothing but move with him. Soon she caught his rhythm and she used her thighs to grip him and she actually rode him like a horse. Never had she enjoyed such a wild and wanton ride.

  His mouth went from earlobe to throat,
sliding down to her bare collarbone, then farther. He was suckling her breasts again, this time more strongly, his tongue rasping and licking, setting off a hot, urgent clamoring inside her. Whimpering, Beatrice melted helplessly against him, pushing her quivering flesh hard against his searing mouth. She was trembling with sensations so vibrant, if not for the water splashing all round them, she thought she might burst into flame.

  Then his wonderful hands slid down once more between their bodies, his thumb finding the slick bud hidden within her feminine folds. She tried to move faster, but one hand clamped on her hip while his other fingers stroked the engorged nub. He kissed her again, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, just as his rampant member was doing to her body.

  The dark waves of pleasure built relentlessly until the ache was almost intolerable. Beatrice writhed with the wild sensuality of it. Her fingers bit into the corded muscles of his arms as the molten fire engulfed her, and she bit down on her lip to stop from screaming.

  She clung to him, shaking helplessly, her cries shattering the small bathing chamber as the inferno consumed her, so powerful, so devastating, it left her senses reeling. What this man could do to her …

  Completely satisfied, she collapsed on his chest, her heartbeat loud in her ears as he cradled her in his arms.

  It was only then that she noticed he was still hard and buried deep within her.

  “I haven’t finished with you yet, my sweet.”

  “Promises.” She gave a husky, disbelieving laugh.

  His hands cupped her buttocks once more, and he began to rock her gently against him.

  His eyes held hers as he surged slowly into her. Beatrice sensed his control. Why did he never let go? Was it only with her that he refused to lose a part of himself? She wished he’d fly free the way she did. She didn’t want him to be contained with her. It was as if he were afraid to let go. To let her see the real Sebastian …

  She watched as his face grew taut, his jaw rigid, while his breathing became as tortured as hers had been.

  She tightened her inner muscles and was pleased to hear the groan he emitted. She felt his desperate need when his mouth blindly sought hers, heard it in his voice as he whispered against her lips, “Look what you do to me, my darling.”

  Her arms came around him tightly and she returned his fervent kiss with all the yearning she had kept from him the last few days, for in this moment she would give all of herself and hold nothing back. She suddenly realized that Serena was right. A man like Sebastian responded to only one thing, and that was pleasure. If she could win in their bedchamber, if she could make him desire her above all other women, then perhaps she would have a chance at winning his heart.

  She was not blind to the monumental task that would be. No other woman—and his previous bed partners were rumored to include the most beautiful and sensual women in the world—had succeeded. Fool!

  Sebastian flung his head back and his body arched up, sending him deep within her as he found his release, without her this time. She watched him, concentrating on the vision of masculinity in the throes of passion, the image purely male. So beautiful she could watch him all day and night.

  He lay back against the side of the tub, eyes closed, his chest heaving with each deep breath. She lay her head on his chest, wanting to continue their connection. His heart was racing, and she silently listened as it began to slow to its usual steady beat. His arms came round her, hugging her close, and she knew nothing could be so perfect.

  “Do you really need to go to the ball tonight?” He kissed the top of her head. “Perhaps I’ve a hunger to take you to bed and never leave the house this evening.”

  She pushed up to look at his face. “I’d like that. Let’s stay in. I won’t go to the ball if you won’t go to Miss Hudson’s.”

  “I’m very tempted. What a pity I already have an appointment with her. Inviting though my suggestion is, however, we have to push on. We have no leads yet and I for one am getting impatient. I’m also worried. The longer the culprit roams free, the more likely someone will be hurt.”

  “You made an appointment? You’ve already talked with her?”

  “Yes. I can’t just arrive on her doorstep—that would look odd. I’ve let it be known I’m looking for a mistress. We are meeting tonight to … discuss terms.”

  “You’ve let it be known?” The ton would know that within a week of their marriage he was already looking for another woman. No one would find this odd. After all, he’d married Henpeck Hennessey. Jealousy raised its ugly head. Unused to the emotion, she couldn’t help a peevish outburst. “It’s almost as if you are eager to attend Miss Hudson.”

  A strange look passed over his face. He silently considered her and she couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he’d see the emotion within. Emotion he didn’t want. Emotion he’d made plain had no place in this marriage. All he wanted was her body, minus her heart. Suddenly what they had just shared in this tub seemed cheap.

  Like a mistress, she was bought and paid for. She had one role to perform, that of breeder. But that’s what you agreed to.

  He set her back from him, his warmth disappearing like the steam as the water cooled, and rose from the tub like a Greek god, the water streaming over his chiseled body. Still ignoring her, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his hips before turning to address her.

  “I don’t what to be cruel, Beatrice. I genuinely would like us to be friends, but we have had this conversation before. I don’t want to have to keep repeating this disagreement because of your insecurities. I’ve already told you I want no other woman. We have a deal. One I will honor. I will look after your family and treat you as part of mine.”

  She shook her head. “No. You won’t treat me as one of your family. You love your family. I’m nothing more than a woman bought and paid for. You want to treat me like Miss Hudson. Everything detailed and wrapped up in financial terms, devoid of any emotion except lust. I won’t stand for it.”

  His expression closed and she knew she’d made a grave mistake.

  “You won’t stand for it?” For a long moment he looked at her without an ounce of warmth in his gaze. “I don’t think you’re in any position to demand anything. You propositioned me—blackmailed me, to be precise—over something I find I was never guilty of.”

  Her heart was cracking. “Are you going to throw that back in my face every time I get too close? I did not take you for a—”

  He made a sharp gesture, cutting her off. “Don’t say another word, you’ll regret it.” His voice was cold, but beneath the anger Beatrice could sense a battle brewing within him. He moved to tower over her at the side of the tub. “I did not believe you deserved the nickname Henpeck. I am not your brother. I won’t argue with you. I won’t have my home disrupted by our disagreements. If you can’t live by my rules, I’ll send you north.”

  Any hope of winning his heart died at his words. She felt stupid and exposed, kneeling naked in his tub with the aftermath of their lovemaking dripping down her thighs. She sank back into the water, whose temperature matched that of her blood. Coldness seeped into her veins.

  She could not bring herself to say anything. She wanted him to go before she disgraced herself and cried in front of him. Her throat felt raw and tears smarted in her eyes.

  He handed her a towel. “You must be cold,” Sebastian said. “I’ll see you after the ball.” Before he turned to leave, she thought she saw a fleeting look of regret flash across his face, but then he was gone without another word.

  Perhaps the regret she’d spied was merely her hopeful imagination.

  Chapter Twelve

  Anger was still seething under Sebastian’s skin as he sat in the carriage on the way to Clarice’s house. Why did women insist on wanting more? Respect, friendship, were enough. He did not want more. He couldn’t predict how he’d react if he fell in love. His father had been brought to his knees by love. His father’s world destroyed. He refused to be put in that position.

 
He realized what the problem was. He’d seen the light in her eyes. Whenever any woman he was seeing looked at him like that, the liaison was over. He walked away.

  But he couldn’t walk away from a wife. This marriage wouldn’t work if she fell in love with him. Love was turbulent and riotous and led to a battleground. He refused to be ruled by his emotions.

  As he walked up the steps to Clarice’s house, memories of what had happened in her boudoir five months ago raced through his head. It was surprising how much a man could change in only five months. Prior to Doogie’s death all he thought about was his own pleasure and what he wanted. Not only had his base desires put Doogie in a position where he’d been killed, he had altered Beatrice’s life and that of his sisters as well.

  Marisa’s and Helen’s reputations and perhaps lives hinged on ascertaining the truth. Prior to his duel with Doogie, he’d not thought once about how his actions affected anyone else. All he’d cared about was what he wanted, when he wanted it.

  Clarice’s discreet butler, Joseph, answered the door at his knock. He stepped aside for Sebastian to enter, stating, “We have been expecting you, my lord.”

  “Is she in the drawing room, Joseph?”

  “No. She has asked me to direct you upstairs.”

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow. It meant only one thing. She was waiting for him in her bedchamber. He didn’t know how far he was going to have to take things tonight, but he had no intention of sleeping with Clarice Hudson again. The image of the tears in Beatrice’s eyes had no bearing on that decision. Liar!

  In fact, he’d never actually slept with Clarice.

  He would try and use his charm to get the information he needed, but if she wasn’t forthcoming he had no compulsion at all about using a little force. He was not going to leave this house until he knew a bit more about the woman behind Doogie’s death and his own subsequent disgrace.

  He slowly made his way upstairs, thinking of how he was going to handle the situation. Charm and flattery would get him much further with a woman like Clarice. At her bedroom door he gave a discreet knock and entered. The sight that greeted him was very becoming and for a moment his resolve wavered.