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

by Rachel Van Dyken

  An hour went by before the light in the blacksmith’s was lit. Sebastian didn’t waste a moment knocking on the door and pleading his case.

  Arrangements were made within the hour, and he whistled the entire way back to the inn. Only to stop dead in his tracks as he watched Emma plead with Rawlings to take her home.

  Rawlings, poor chap, looked caught between telling her the truth that she was, in fact, going home not as Emma Gates, but as the Duchess of Tempest and just plain running in the other direction.

  Coward.

  “Emma, what has you out so early? I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

  She refused to make eye contact, only bit her lip and kept her eyes focused on Rawlings, who chose this moment to kick a rock and look up to the sky. Poor chap.

  “Rawlings, if you’ll just excu—” Sebastian didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Rawlings had tipped his hat and turned on his heel toward the inn.

  Emma’s face followed Rawlings’ retreating form, her fists clenched, and as much as Sebastian would love to see her unleash all that pent up anger on an unsuspecting Rawlings, he had better plans.

  “Shall we?” Extending his arm, he waited in vain for her to take it.

  Instead she fell into step beside him with her arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Emma looked up at him with a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “For what?”

  “For a great many things, but most of all, for letting you down when you needed me the most. For being a coward when I made you believe I wasn’t falling in love with you, and most of all, for waiting until now to tell you how desperately I need you. Will you marry me?”

  ****

  As far as proposals went, it had to be one of the better ones Emma had ever heard. And yet, she doubted him. No, that wasn’t true. She doubted herself, doubted that he would in fact love her—all of her, including her soiled reputation.

  “You don’t understand, Sebastian. I can’t marry you, for reasons you yourself displayed ever so plainly to me upon our first meeting. You desire a woman of consequence, someone without stain or blemish, and that is all I will bring you. A stain. A blemish. Nothing but heartache and a reputation that will forever be attached to your family’s good name. So, no. For as much as I love you, I could never do that to you.”

  She pulled away but was crushed by the heavy weight of his arms. And then he was kissing her. She tried to fight, to push him away as her heart shattered into a million pieces inside. To kiss her, to give her one last taste was the cruelest of tricks.

  “Emma,” he said against her lips. “I know, Emma. I know everything.”

  The fight left, replaced by anger, and then confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “Rawlings. He told me everything. I make my offer of marriage knowing full well who I attach myself to. Miss Emma Gates, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, honest, adventurous though it might be the death of me and give me gray hair. And dare I say quite possibly the most delicious dancer I’ve ever known? Emma, I want you, all of you. Reputation and all.”

  “Truly?”

  Sebastian growled as he pulled her in, kissing her hard on the mouth. “If you say no, I’ll come after you. I’ll never stop. I may even ruin my own reputation in the process.”

  “You wouldn’t!” Squirming in his arms, she laughed. “I love you.”

  He stilled and then tilted his head toward hers. “And I you. Does that mean yes, sweet Emma?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes as she nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.”

  “Perfect. Let’s be on our way then.” Tugging at her arm, he pulled her down the street.

  “Sebastian?” Looking around, Emma thought it was possibly a trick. Did he truly mean now?

  “Oh yes, left that part out, my apologies. We’re getting married now. I already have the vicar waiting, Rawlings will be present, good fellow he is. Did you know he thought I was playing with your heartstrings?”

  So Rawlings had truly been trying to protect her as well as win her as his own bride. It left her wondering what he would do now. He seemed happy enough though as stubborn as ever, not letting her leave the inn until Sebastian returned.

  Emma felt like she was walking on clouds. Each step she took with Sebastian seemed to get faster until finally she felt like running. The only thing that kept her at a normal pace was years of training on how a lady should present herself in public.

  In the back of her mind, she wondered how much her reputation would harm Sebastian, but the fact he loved her despite it was enough to push it even further into her mind.

  Because in less than an hour, she would be his wife.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Sebastian had half a mind to pay the vicar to merely sign the marriage certificate so he could be Emma’s husband and have the whole situation done with. He craved her, needed her, and was tired of waiting.

  As the vicar finally pronounced them man and wife, Sebastian, unable to control himself any longer, pulled Emma into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth in front of God and Rawlings.

  Rawlings snickered and turned away. Sebastian lifted his eyes as Rawlings waited at the door. The man tipped his hat and was off. He had only stayed to be a witness in case there needed to be one and now he was gone.

  The friendship once so tattered and broken had begun to heal, just one more thing Sebastian was thankful for.

  It was too late for them to travel back so soon, and Sebastian wanted a night with his new duchess before he was to meet the faces of the ton and that of his grandmother, though he knew she would be pleased. He had already told her of his intentions.

  Although he still couldn’t figure out why the woman had winked and patted him on the back as if she had anything to do with it.

  Sebastian watched in fascination as his bride walked ahead of him into their bedroom. The innkeeper had managed to find them a larger room, and Sebastian had also arranged for a bottle of wine as well as a bath for his bride.

  He wasn’t thinking Emma would necessarily need a bath, but knew it might comfort her before the night ahead. He didn’t pretend to know how women’s minds worked, he merely knew it would be better for her to relax.

  Closing the door behind him, he walked toward Emma, telling himself repeatedly he needed to take things slow, when all he wanted to do was rip her dress in half and devour her.

  Romance, she deserved to be treasured, cherished. Stifling the array of curses that managed to make their way to his lips, he watched as Emma began taking off her bonnet, the pins in her hair and then—

  “Sebastian?”

  Clearing his throat, he answered, “Yes?”

  “Could you help me? I can’t manage the buttons on my dress.”

  Innocent? Hardly. The coy smile on her lips was telling enough, the minx. Approaching her, he pulled at her shoulders to turn her around, all the while telling himself to breath in and out.

  As his fingers brushed the buttons lining the back of her dress, he had to pause in order to keep himself from taking out a knife and cutting it off of her. One button and then two, he had to keep repeating how many she had, lest he continue to be tempted beyond what he could bear. After all, his wife needed his assistance, and this was now something he could help her with.

  Once the last button was reached, he cleared his throat and watched in utter horror as she let it drop to the floor.

  “And the corset as well,” his wife purred.

  “Of course,” he croaked.

  If she was going to continue to taunt him, one bottle of wine would not be enough while he waited for her to bathe.

  His hands reached again to the corset. Loosening the stays, he found himself utterly fascinated that he was so aroused. Never had undressing a lady once appealed to him. It was all about what happened underneath the clothes. But watching as his wife undressed, as he helped her, had to be the most sensual experience of his life.

  When the last pa
rt of the corset was loosened, he waited. If the room wasn’t still so chilly, he’d be sweating. He would lose his mind if this woman continued to torture him.

  Words failed to come. Open-mouthed, he watched Emma strip down to her chemise and turn to him. Part of his mind told him he should twist away, the other yelled at him to attack his wife. After all, she was his, wasn’t she? And why in tarnation did she feel the need to put him through such utter torture?

  “I think I shall take a bath now, Sebastian.” Emma smiled.

  Sebastian cursed and then nodded his head in approval.

  “Will you help me with my stockings?”

  Sebastian fought to keep his rising irritation and arousal under control. “Is there anything else you shall need my help with, or would you rather I summon one of the ladies from downstairs?”

  “Oh no, I think you shall sufficiently be able to strip me of my remaining clothes and help me bathe.”

  Putting his hands on his hips, he looked away. Then ran his fingers through his hair, leaving one hand curiously behind his neck. “You want me to help you bathe? Are you mad?”

  Emma lifted her eyebrow in teasing before putting her leg on the chair next to him and pulling up her chemise. The woman was trying to kill him. Up the chemise went until her entire thigh was exposed, slowly, she rolled down her stockings then flashed him a glance. “This is what you get for making me think you didn’t care.” Dropping her leg, she shifted and lifted the other to the chair, repeating with her other stocking. “And this is what you get for not telling me you love me.”

  And then she was in front of him. In a whisper she said, “And this is what you get for rejecting me last night. Though I know why you did it, I had no idea what you were planning today. So, punish you I will, until you’re begging me to stop. Now, Sebastian, would you check the temperature of the bath?”

  He wasn’t sure how he found himself within the next minute doing exactly that, except he hadn’t discovered the words to fight her, not when she had so many elegant points and not when she was touching parts of her body he ached to kiss.

  “It’s a little hot, Emma, would you—“

  He couldn’t finish his sentence as his eyes fell on Emma. The water nymph was standing directly in front of him, sans clothes, only a smile on her beautiful face. “Thank you, husband.” She stood up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He kept his arms firmly planted next to his body. Not because he didn’t want to grab her and have his way with her, but because he was so utterly paralyzed by her brazenness, her beauty, and frankly by the fact that she had so magnificently stumped him.

  Using his body as an anchor, she lifted her delicate foot into the tub, then the other. Like a man in a trance, he watched until her entire body was covered in the hot water. Her hand was extended toward him. Thinking she was asking to be touched, he reached out, but she cleared her throat and pointed to the soap.

  “Right.” He sighed

  “Thank you, my sly little fox.”

  Shaking his head, he was about to take his leave. Meaning he was just about ready to go drink the entire contents of the wine bottle when she cleared her throat again and then in a light beautiful voice asked, “Aren’t you going to help me?”

  Of course, and then I’ll drop dead because, if she touches me one more time without doing anything, my body will cease all normal functioning.

  “Yes, let me just…I’ll just take off my jacket, shall I?”

  “And your shoes, don’t forget your shoes, Sebastian.”

  Perplexed, he took off his shoes.

  “And your cravat, you can take that off as well.”

  Sebastian put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Emma, what else would you like me to take off?”

  Wrong question.

  With a wink, she motioned with her little finger for him to approach. Things were taking a turn for the worse, and he was quite sure his body had met its limit.

  And then when his face neared hers, she reached for his shirt with one hand and pulled him in for an earth shattering kiss.

  “You’re forgiven,” she whispered across his lips.

  Sebastian growled. “And you, my dear, have not yet been sufficiently punished.” He picked her dripping body up out of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping her in it. He carried her to the fireplace and, without giving her any time to protest, alternated between kissing her and drying her off.

  Unfortunately, the towel was covering her legs where he wanted to run his hands up and down the smooth pearly expanse of skin. He threw the towel in a frenzy and began raining kisses from her feet all the way up to her knee.

  She squealed; he didn’t stop. He continued upward until he thought she might scream. But she didn’t, instead she pulled at his body, obviously needing more of what he had to offer.

  ****

  Emma was quite literally soaring as Sebastian reached around and pushed the towel away from her.

  The room once so chilly and tense was now a blazing furnace. As Sebastian’s hands dug into her hair, she felt she was finally home where she belonged. If he had taken advantage of her last night, she might have never believed he truly loved her, that he wanted to marry her. She would have easily thought he did it out of obligation. The man was a rule follower, he didn’t do things halfway. He would never compromise a lady and leave her.

  She loved him for that. She loved him for a great many things, especially the way his mouth felt against her feet, and then her calf as he raised it next to his head and began brushing wet kisses all the way up the side of her leg.

  Oddly she wasn’t one bit embarrassed, mesmerized, yes, but no shame accompanied his assault, only excitement and pleasure.

  Large hands dug into the back of her head as he opened her mouth and suckled her tongue all the while dizzying her with passion.

  And then she felt his body leave hers. A sense of emptiness overwhelmed her and then a feeling of burning anticipation took its place. Hastily Sebastian threw down what was remaining of his clothes. His shirt and pantaloons. Fortunately for Emma she had already demanded he remove his clothing, leaving only a few objects to strip off.

  Truly, he was beautiful. Everything women accused him of and more. Knowing that he hated being compared to a feminine attribute, she fought for words to describe the masculine beauty standing in front of her. Hard muscles lined his body giving him the dominance of a modern day Adonis. And then as if amused by her obvious assessment, he winked sending her stomach into a fit of butterflies. Now she was nervous.

  As he approached her, she leaned forward, careful not to stare too wide eyed at everything he represented, and then somehow she was in his arms, being kissed, being awakened.

  Carefully he lifted her onto the bed, still kissing her lips and neck, and then his body was covering hers. Desperate for him to be closer, she clawed at him, moaning for him, needing him more than she needed air.

  He was everywhere, her brain seemed to stop working because all she knew was she was desperate for him, ached for him, and only him, the good Duke of Tempest, Sebastian St. James.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Emma awoke in Sebastian’s arms. The moonlight crept in through the windows, casting an angelic hue across his face.

  Not always so angelic, she mused as her mind went back to the night of passion they had shared.

  Suddenly grateful he hadn’t allowed himself to be seduced by the women his grandmother had thrown his way, she rested her hand across the bare muscled expanse of his back and laughed as she caressed lower and lower until Sebastian, with a moan, grabbed her wrists and had her on her back.

  “Not tired, eh, my little minx?” Nuzzling her neck, he flicked his tongue across her earlobe and continued to kiss her hotly across the sides of her face.

  Emma was ready for more of Sebastian. Her body screamed for release. The love they had, the attraction they shared, it was unique—perfect. Her pain was his pain and his pain hers. In that moment lying in his arms in his bed, she knew ever
ything she had fought for years to keep in—the rejection of her family, of her friends, the loss of her reputation—it didn’t matter, because she had love.

  Laughter bubbled out of her.

  Sebastian tensed.

  “I know this is all new to you, Emma, but it must be said that laughing while a man is trying to…please a lady is not necessarily a boon to his confidence.”

  “I’m so-so sorry.” Emma giggled, finally able to relax. “It’s not you.”

  “Right,” Sebastian grumbled, though he didn’t necessarily push her away.

  “I just figured something out, something about myself that I’ve been fighting for years.”

  Sebastian leaned down until his face was touching hers. “Care to clue me in on what exactly has you in a fit of giggles while I’m trying to remove every memory of your tragic past from your consciousness?”

  Emma was silent. Because what was she to say when the Good Duke of Tempest was talking about removing anything from her body?

  “I just need you. I love you. You make me feel…not so ruined. That my reputation, or lack thereof, wasn’t an obstacle for us.” She shrugged, unable to fully explain her feelings.

  Sebastian sighed. “Emma, reputation or not, you are perfect and I love you. It was foolish of me to think that by having a spotless reputation I would somehow avenge my parents’ death.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Ah, I shall tell you my story, if you tell me yours.”

  Emma nodded and waited. It was only at the end of the story that she realized tears were pouring down her face. “Oh, Sebastian, I had no idea! I’m sorry. So that’s why you and Rawlings...”