The Seduction of Sebastian St. James (House of Renwick)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  ****

  Emma appeared a million miles away. Her face stone as she gazed across the countryside. Sebastian didn’t want to interrupt whatever thoughts were plaguing her, and he would be of no help if he asked her to share.

  His original intent had been to find out just how well she knew Rawlings. But looking at her face now, he realized it wasn’t for him to ask, it was for her to share, when she was ready. And this was not the time.

  Head down, she let out a sigh then faced him.

  “You wanted to speak with me, Sebastian?”

  Emma’s eyes were void of emotion. If he didn’t know her, he would think she was merely bored, but he knew. It was pain that filled those normally vibrant eyes, and for some reason, he felt he was behind that aching. He watched with concern as she swallowed and, hands shaking, pushed an escaped piece of hair away from her face. Crossing her arms, she gave him the impression she was trying to hug herself, or protect herself from some sort of emotional turmoil.

  Music from the salon drifted out onto the terrace. Someone must have decided dancing would make the party livelier.

  “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand.

  Sebastian didn’t think it possible, but Emma’s face seemed to pale even more in the moonlight. She looked toward the doorway then back at him.

  “I don’t dance.”

  “You did before,” he said skeptically.

  “Not really.” Emma turned away from him. “It was impulsive of me to try to dance with you at the first ball we attended together. Forgive me. Now I must take my leave.”

  “Emma…” Sebastian tried to stop her, but Emma was already out the door. He knew whatever he had said had rubbed her the wrong way. Confused, he stayed out on the balcony. One minute the girl was ready to take any challenge he set before her, the next she seemed as frightened as a tiny mouse. Her emotions alone were enough to drive any man to drink.

  Cursing himself for, yet again, making her uncomfortable and for avoiding the topic of Rawlings, he let himself back in the room, walking slowly to the study where the rest of the men were most likely meeting.

  His rotten luck continued as he noticed the only man still sitting by the fire was Rawlings himself. Taking a cheroot from the butler, he lifted his coat tails and sat on the furthest seat away from his sworn enemy.

  “Tempest,” Rawlings ground out.

  Why did it always have to be so tense? Granted, he despised the man, but couldn't they at least be civil?

  “Rawlings, has your night been agreeable?”

  The only response given him was a grunt from Rawlings and a motion for another brandy, which Sebastian was immediately jealous of considering he himself felt the need to inebriate his body with spirits after his terse conversation with Emma.

  “She was mine once,” Rawlings began.

  Devil take him, this was not going well.

  “Mine,” Rawlings said.

  Sebastian felt the sudden urge to pull out his pistols. Unfortunately he wasn’t carrying any, so he was left with the uncomfortable task of listening to Rawlings, drunk as he was, lament over the loss of some chit.

  “Miss Emma Gates, the prettiest girl in the country,” Rawlings continued. “You knew we were one betrothed, did you not?”

  The smirk on Rawlings’ face was enough to make Sebastian want to hang him. The man should learn his place.

  “Oh, don’t get your feathers all in a ruffle, Tempest. I’m merely making polite conversation. Wouldn’t a healthy competition be good for you, my dear fellow?” He smiled and lifted his cup in a toast. “We knew each other well. And before you get that deuced awful scowl on your face, you should know I don’t mean in the Christian way. We were both too young for that, not that it mattered later on. I can’t even imagine why I am telling you this.”

  “Too many spirits?” Sebastian offered.

  Rawlings ignored him. “Can’t say that it matters though, she’s ruined now. Can’t believe you even offered for her, what with her reputation. It’s only a matter of time before the ton gets wind of her many sins. Did I say many? I mean one, but it’s not for you to know. Only myself.” Rawlings voice continued to mumble until a loud snore came out.

  Sebastian waited in anticipation. What in the blazes was this man talking about? What did Rawlings know that Sebastian didn’t? Unsettled, Sebastian waited for Rawlings to say more. Odd that he would hint at any sort of scandal with Emma. But Rawlings was also drunk. If Emma had any black marks attached to her name, surely Nicholas would have said something. His friend knew how important his reputation was to him. He wouldn’t jeopardize that for someone who was merely related to him by marriage.

  Just as he was getting ready to kick Rawlings in the shin and demand an explanation, a second snore came and Rawlings’ glass fell to the floor. What information Rawlings was keeping from him would obviously not be revealed tonight. Not with Rawlings so deep in his cups and Emma as skittish as a church mouse. Reluctantly, Sebastian pushed off the plush chair and took the stairs to his room.

  Pure torture engulfed him as he realized just how close Emma’s lush body was to his own. One door was all that separated them. One tiny, flimsy piece of wood and he could see her. What would she be wearing? Would she be sleeping peacefully? Would she be—

  Sebastian yelled a string of curses as he stepped into his fire lit room. Emma was sitting in the chair next to the fireplace, twirling her long locks in her fingers. Of all the scandals, this had to be the worst.

  “What in the blazes are you doing here?” Unfortunately Sebastian’s body was already aroused after thinking of Emma in her nightgown. Now that he saw her in the flesh, he was ready to throw caution to the wind and take her in the quickest way possible.

  “Emma?” he asked again, trying to soothe his arousal.

  The minx motioned for him to sit and took a drink of wine she had apparently brought to his room. Lovely, more spirits to dampen his focus.

  Emma hadn’t moved from her seat. The lines of her beautiful face were illuminated by the fireplace. Never had there been a better setting for seduction.

  On cue, her robe fell off her shoulder, revealing a creamy white expanse of skin just begging to be touched.

  Sebastian cursed and looked away. “Emma, by your presence in my room I can only deduce you want to speak with me about something that’s on your mind.” Strain was evident as he spoke every word. It was a chore to act normal when the room was ripe for seduction.

  Surely he would be sainted if he survived this.

  He opened his eyes just in time to see Emma lick her lips and sigh.

  Wine. Where was the wine?

  Slowly, methodically, he poured himself a glass then walked to where Emma sat and joined her in the across facing chair. He lifted the red liquid to his lips, closing his eyes as the wine trickled down his throat. Unfortunately it wasn’t high enough in its alcohol content to numb the raging lust he was feeling.

  Emma turned to him. “You were going to ask me something tonight.”

  “Was I?”

  Emma gave a weak smile. “You’re being kind by avoiding the subject, but I’m ready to share some of what has been plaguing me.”

  “Emma.” Sebastian set his glass down and leaned in. “It is none of my business. If it pains you, I only wish to know so I can help alleviate the hurt and share the burden. But do not tell me if it will make everything worse for you. I do not desire to be another reason for your pain.”

  Splendid speech for only having used half his head. The other half was too busy thinking ungodly things.

  Turning her face once more to the fire, she closed her eyes. Had he never seen true beauty before? The shots of red in her hair seemed to glow. It was nothing more than a terrible tease to see only part of her body exposed. It was actually worse than her being unclothed, because at least then he wouldn’t be imagining what the rest of her looked like. But now, his eyes greedily scanned the expanse of skin below her neck. The illusion of her body made hi
m believe in its supple softness.

  “Then it’s settled, isn’t it?” Emma pushed away from the chair and approached him.

  His throat went dry as his eyes greedily took in her illuminated form. “What’s that?” he inquired, taking another long gulp of wine then setting the goblet on the table next to him. Sebastian folded his hands and leaned forward as she stopped right in front of him.

  Waves of heat brought on by her exposure to the hot fire billowed toward him in a combined scent of jasmine and burning wood. Clenching his teeth, he managed a grin.

  “Both of us are too stubborn to back down. I can see by the look in your eyes you want to help, but Sebastian, my past with Rawlings is…complicated, to say the least. It wouldn’t bode well for you to get involved. You do have your reputation to think about.”

  “My reputation?” he repeated. “Your past has nothing to do with my reputation, and even if it did, my dear girl, you forget, this is all a ruse.” Even as he said it, his body screamed in protest. He wanted Emma, every part of her. It seemed the only person who refused to believe the lie was the one who had created it in the first place.

  Emma tilted her head to the side. “A ruse.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, my sly fox, you aren’t the least bit interested in what I have to offer?”

  “Offer,” Sebastian stuttered then adjusted his cravat. “You are a little minx, aren’t you? What game are you playing at?” Not that he was, by any means, complaining. Her shoulder was still exposed to fresh air giving him the intense desire to reach out and stroke the white skin.

  “My services, of course.”

  Sebastian lost all ability to speak.

  Emma obviously had not. Leaning down, she brushed a kiss across his cheek. A low moan escaped him, embarrassing him to the tips of his ears. What duke allowed himself to be seduced by a mere peck on the cheek?

  This one.

  Emma bit her deliciously ripe lower lip and winked. “You did ask that I help you pick out a suitable bride, did you not?”

  Blast, blast, blast!

  He cleared his throat. “Of course, so those would be…the services you are, ahem, referring to, naturally.”

  Spoken with the grace of Byron himself.

  Disgusted, Sebastian met Emma’s twinkling eyes one last time.

  Her face was merely a breath away from his. Licking her lips, she replied, “Your grace, you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” Slowly, she curtsied and bid him goodnight.

  As the door shut quietly behind her, he let out the breath he had no idea he’d been holding. Unfortunately a good night was to be impossible, since his mind was already working on all of the activities one could do in the dark. How in the devil was he supposed to sleep with his body still painfully aware that a beautiful woman had just been in his bedroom? Lucky for them the rooms were adjoining, so nobody would know. But what exactly had been her purpose in coming to his rooms so late? If it was to torture him, she did a splendid job, leaving only thoughts of her soft body pressed up against his in his all too vivid imagination.

  He knew sleep would not come, so he dedicated the next few hours to exactly what he had come to the house party for. Not for Emma, but for a wife, to bring honor to his family, and finally redemption to himself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Emma’s heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest as her feet calmly took her back to her rooms. The last time she had felt this alive, she had been dancing. The memory seemed less painful than before. Maybe taking a chance with Sebastian was what she needed. A fresh start.

  It would be possible if Rawlings weren’t so closely involved.

  She had made the choice to visit Sebastian’s rooms out of sheer determination. Once she had been excused to her rooms, she sat for at least a half hour contemplating how she was to seduce Sebastian without anyone finding out, especially the object of her seduction. The thing was, she had no idea how to go about it. All she had been promised was this one week, and then, he would be married and the ruse could not, no, would not continue.

  Desperation made her enter his room.

  Passion made her strong, and determination made her immovable in her decision to experience the joy of being with someone as good as the duke just once in her life.

  Naturally, she would have to conduct her decision without the watchful eyes of the gentry pouring into Rawlings’ estate over the next day. Surely it was safe for her to visit Sebastian at night, to talk with him. It was not lost on her how tightly wound she had made him. More than once the man shifted in his seat and over-indulged with the wine.

  They affected one another. Yes, it was unfair they could not be together, that her scandal would keep them apart.

  But for the week, he was hers.

  As she lay her head down on her pillow, she smiled, a real smile, for the first time in years. Dreaming of all the ways she would seduce Sebastian St. James, refusing to remember that after the seduction came loss, and after the loss, a life forever watching the Duke of Tempest being seduced by his wife.

  ****

  Emma awoke the next day refreshed. The men were to go on a hunt while the women had a casual ride and picnic. She donned her smartest looking riding habit. Dark green outlined with heavy black velvet fit her perfectly, albeit considerably tighter than she remembered it. The desired effect would be reached. Although low, it also showed off the generous curve of her hips, something that would peak Sebastian’s interest, she hoped.

  As she made her way outside to the stables, Sebastian was waiting for her. A hungry look passed over his face. Almost as soon as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes.

  “Ah, my dear, I’ve decided on a mount for you.”

  “Have you?” Skeptical, she looked at the horse he held. The midnight black Arabian stomped his hoof and snorted.

  “This is Boxer.”

  “Does he live up to his name, your grace?”

  Sebastian handed her the reigns. “A more talented female rider I’ve never laid eyes on. I’ll let you be the one to make that decision, my lady.” Sebastian bowed over her hand and walked to his own horse. He paused slightly and turned to add, “And, Emma, no racing.”

  “Ah, I see you’ve been busy giving away my best horses this morning.” Lord Rawlings trotted up on his own horse, smug grin still in place.

  Emma wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face. Given the liberties he had already taken with her, it seemed a natural response for any woman.

  “Lord Rawlings.” She curtsied then, without any help, managed to mount her horse and take off in a full gallop.

  Emma laughed as the breeze whipped across her face, leaving her dizzy with exhilaration.

  Out of nowhere a horse appeared on her left, Lord Rawlings riding atop it. Her first response was to ignore him and push harder, but the fact that he was keeping up with her was impressive. She slowed to a trot. Boxer neighed and kicked before finally pulling to a stop.

  “You followed me.” Emma led her horse to a nearby stream.

  Rawlings let out a laugh. The same laugh she remembered him using so long ago when they were friends.

  “Yes, I thought it would be good to humble you a bit. Seems you’ve pulled that stunt before with the duke?”

  Emma bit her lip, refusing to answer, even though a slow smile spread across her face. “In the middle of Hyde Park, to be exact.”

  “And did he or did he not give you a sit down about the rules and regulations befitting a lady of your station?” Rawlings joked.

  “He did.”

  “Ah, he should let you be wild, Emma.”

  Rawlings seemed to be purposefully making a point by using her first name. It was not at all proper.

  Ignoring his presence behind her, she dismounted and set forth on the impossible task of finding a smooth stone to skip in the river.

  “Do you remember when we used to go hunting through the wood over yonder?” Rawlings wa
s standing next to her, looking toward her father’s land.

  “Yes.”

  “You hated being told to stay behind, always wanting to play with the boys, to race, to hunt…I wonder where that Emma has gone off to? I fervently hope one of these days she will return and start taking chances again.”

  Rawlings picked up a smooth stone and threw it in her direction. “My lady,” he said, bowing. Then he mounted his horse and took off in a gallop, leaving Emma more confused than before.

  Was he merely being polite or trying to conjure up images of her jaded past in order to gain her allegiance?

  It was most likely a question that would not be answered by skipping stones.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sebastian waited in vain for an hour, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Emma returning from her dangerous gallop. In that time he came to the decision to finally do right by her and attempt to choose a suitor from among the arriving guests, someone who would be good enough.

  Each one seemed to have something wrong with him.

  Lord Rayne had a gambling problem.

  Viscount Richards was missing several of his teeth.

  And each of Lord Ambry’s wives had somehow met their demise while married to him.

  It seemed his only hope was the last two men to join. Both were good friends of Rawlings and entirely out of the question, if Sebastian had anything to do with it. But they were the only two left, so he waited patiently for the last two guests to arrive all the while wondering if Rawlings had caught up to Emma in the woods.

  Hope came in a tall figure clad with blond hair and brown eyes. Sebastian turned his head in disgust. He was a mere child!

  “Lord Smythe, delighted to see you!” Belverd took the man’s hand within his own, shaking it wildly before patting him on the back and turning him toward a curious Sebastian.