She pushed him towards the door. Sebastian caught her hands, pulling her tight up against him with a groan. ‘Oh God, Caro, I did not mean to cause you pain.’ He ran his finger down the line of her cheek to rest on her lower lip before leaning in to her, brushing his lips to her cheek.
‘No,’ she exclaimed. One word, meaning nothing and everything to her. No, don’t go. No, you’re not sorry. No, I do not want you. No, I do not love you. ‘No,’ she said again, meaning this time no, I will not give in. But desire, longing, and the ache of imminent loss washed over her. ‘No,’ she whispered, twining her arms around his neck, pressing herself against the hard wall of his chest. His mouth was just inches away from hers. His eyes were dark with desire. Heat seemed to smoulder from her skin. Or was it his? ‘No,’ she said, as his lips touched hers, and she thought only yes.
Gently, he nibbled the softness of her bottom lip, licking along its length, then into the corners of her mouth. His hands slid around her, one round her back to pull her into him, the other up to stroke her hair. With a tiny gasp, she kissed him back.
He traced the shape of her mouth with his tongue, kissing, the lightest of kisses, tantalisingly touching, brushing, tasting. She ran her fingers through the short silkiness of his hair, tracing the line of his neck above his neckcloth. Skin. Sebastian’s skin.
His tongue brushed hers, her mouth opened wider, and his kiss changed. Deep, slow, an utterly satisfying kiss that left her ravenous for more. He kissed her again. Deeper. He tasted of fire. Their tongues touched, tasted. She arched against him, brushing the hard length of his manhood, and he moaned, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her bottom to pull her tighter.
Her blood felt as if it were boiling, yet her fingers were icy. Inside her, low inside her belly, tension knotted. His mouth was feverish on hers, his breathing fast and shallow. She felt dizzy, light-headed, desperate, as they stumbled together, using the wall to brace themselves. His hands stroked her arms, the soft flesh at the top of her gloves, brushing the curve of her breast, then feathering over the edge of lace at her décolleté.
Her nipples hardened. Sebastian stilled, then released her abruptly. Breathing hard, his eyes heavy-lidded, a dark flush colouring his cheeks, he gazed at her with something akin to horror and swore under his breath, using a word she had never heard before. ‘Forgive me.’ He swore again, viciously. ‘He was right. I am not fit to be in your company. What was it your stepmother said—once a rake. You have all the proof you need of that now. I am sorry, Caro. It is better for everyone that I leave London. I am fit only for my own company. I wish you—I wish you well.’
He was gone before she could stop him. Stunned, she stumbled over to the fireplace and slumped down in a chair. What a fool she had been. She had almost convinced herself that she loved him. As well that she caught herself in time. No, she was not in love, she was in denial, living out a silly little fantasy, and it was time that she faced reality and got on with her life. Sebastian was no more her knight errant than she was his maiden in distress. She did not need rescuing. The time had come for her to play the role for which she was destined.
Caro reached for the decanter. Cheap brandy was better than no brandy, right now. She poured herself a glass and swallowed it in one bitter draught. It didn’t help in the slightest.
Crag Hall—1830
Caro dreamt she was dancing, waltzing in a crowded ballroom with Sebastian’s arm around her waist. Light filtered in through the bedchamber curtains causing her to slowly awaken. She squeezed her eyes tight shut. She didn’t want to wake up, she wanted to stay for ever her younger, innocent self, safe in Sebastian’s arms, the future awash with glittering possibilities, but the sun was persistent.
Donning a wrapper over her nightgown, she wandered through to the adjoining room. Like the bedroom, the boudoir was richly decorated, with rococo gilding on the cornicing and green damask hangings at the windows. The walls were covered with a number of portraits. A white-marble mantel was carved with cupids. It had once been a very beautiful room, but like every other part of the house was now in a sad state of neglect.
Sebastian had avoided her all day yesterday, leaving her to dine alone in that shabby little salon of his. She ought to apologise to him, but she would not. She was tired of apologising. Her whole life had been an apology. Sebastian, on the other hand, never apologised and never explained, he simply moved on. He had left Crag Hall for London to get away from his father. He’d swapped his rakish haunts for the ton because he was bored. He’d left England for the Continent when he’d become bored with her—for she never had believed that high-minded nonsense about protecting her reputation. And now Sebastian had come full circle, hiding himself away here at Crag Hall because...
Caro shook her head, exasperated. She had no idea why Sebastian was playing the recluse here, and she didn’t care one whit. She had more than sufficient problems of her own to resolve, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. In fact, it was far better if she and Sebastian’s paths crossed as seldom as possible while she was lodged here. Far better. She did not need his company and he obviously did not want hers.
She dressed herself in a gown of white muslin, with a triangular bibbed front edged in satin. Piped satin bordered the woollen embroidery around the hemline, which was worked in a design of ferns and acanthus leaves similar to an evening gown she had worn once on a most memorable occasion.
The bedchamber opened onto a long dark corridor panelled with wood. The window at the far end was shuttered. She made her way cautiously to the staircase, struck afresh by the neglect. The huge oriole window of stained glass which lit the corridor would filter the light spectacularly, but it was covered in leaves and moss on the outside. Below her, a large square atrium-like room, the doors all firmly closed, guarded the formal chambers which must lie beyond. Why? The question nagged her, despite her resolutions. Abandoning the elegant staircase, she made her way to the service stairwell, which was lit by oil lamps, and thence to Sebastian’s room. As she suspected, it was empty, though the table had been freshly laid for breakfast. For one. The master of the house had obviously already eaten.
Caro buttered a bread roll and took it outside. Sunlight slanted across the stables and the paddock. Turning her face to the warmth, she breathed in the delightful smell of grass, fresh hay, horses and summer. The air was so sweet here, she had quite forgotten.
Sebastian was leaning against the paddock fence gazing off into the distance. He was dressed in what was obviously his habitual attire of breeches, riding boots and shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show off tanned forearms. The leather of his breeches stretched taut over his derrière. He still had a very nice derrière. Not that any lady should notice such things. Though Caro, according to the scandal sheets, was no lady. She continued to stare, and was still staring when Sebastian turned.
Surprise, the beginnings of a smile, then wariness, she noticed as she made her way over to him. ‘Good morning. To what do I owe the privilege?’
‘I wondered what became of Burkan,’ she replied. ‘And I wondered what had become of you too. You’ve been avoiding me.’
‘Burkan is in the long meadow with some of the mares.’
‘Lucky Burkan! A stallion after his master’s heart. Can there be such a thing as a rakish horse?’
‘Horses are far too noble to be rakes.’
‘Unlike men, you mean?’
‘Exactly. He is earning his oats, that’s all. It’s what I do now, in addition to playing the lord of the manor, I breed horses.’
‘Which explains why you favour the garb of a stable hand. No, don’t take offence, I like it. I remember the first time we met you were dressed just like this. I took you for a groom at first.’
Sebastian grinned. ‘A groom with too much of a penchant for the whip, as I recall.’
‘I thought you were going to use it on me,’ she replie
d, smiling back at him.
‘You are not serious. I would never...’
‘Of course I’m not serious. I’ve never been afraid of you. Your anger always has just cause, even if that cause is frequently rather opaque. You can be extremely defensive when provoked, but you are never aggressive or malicious,’ Caro broke off abruptly, staring at her finger, which still bore the indentation left by her wedding ring.
When she looked up, Sebastian was staring at her with an oddly arrested expression. Hiding her hand in her skirts, she summoned up a bright smile. ‘Have you had much success? With your stud farm, I mean.’
Sebastian ignored her. ‘Did he hurt you?’
Her mind went quite blank. She could feel the panic forming like a swarm of angry wasps in her stomach. ‘Naturally,’ she said, striving for a lightness she was far from feeling. ‘The lies he told in those scandal sheets were really quite uninventive. If only he had asked me, I am sure I could have come up with something better than a boot boy.’
‘That’s not what I meant, Caro, as you know perfectly well.’
‘Perhaps if he gets wind of the fact that I had to be carried unconscious from an opium den he will divorce me,’ she said flippantly.
‘If it’s divorce you wish for, you merely have to inform him that you have taken up residence in the home of the notorious Heartless Heartbreaker.’
‘Oh, but that sounds far too mundane. Now, if you were to invite some of your Paphians along, perhaps a few other rakehells, and throw a spectacular orgy, that would be something I doubt even my husband could forgive.’
‘Does he want to forgive you, Caro?’
‘He believes I have a lot to be forgiven for.’
‘Enigmatic. That is not like you. Let me put it another way. Do you wish to be forgiven?’
‘No.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘I won’t go back, Sebastian. I know it is what everyone wants, what everyone will say I ought to do. It is the law, after all, as his wife I am his property, but...’
He caught her hand, pulling her towards him. ‘When have I ever urged you to do the right thing, Caro? None of that matters a damn, it is what you want that counts. I don’t know what went on between you and have no wish to know, but you can rest assured, I’m on your side.’
He hadn’t shaved this morning. His stubble gave him a raffish look. She was close enough to smell the familiar scent of him, soap and hay. There was a smattering of hairs at the opening of his shirt. His throat was tanned. His eyes, in the bright light of the summer morning, seemed more amber than brown. She could not doubt the sincerity she saw there, and found herself unexpectedly on the brink of tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said in a low whisper.
Sebastian touched her cheek, smoothing away the single tear which had fallen with his thumb. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
‘I know, it’s silly, it’s just that it’s been so long since—it’s just nice to know that there is someone on my side.’
‘I said it because I meant it. If there is anything I can do, you need only ask.’
She managed a watery smile. ‘I’ve already told you what you can do.’
‘Hold an orgy in your name?’ He smiled, pushing her hair back from her face. ‘I have been hiding away here for so long, I’m not sure that I would know where to start. With the guest list I mean!’ he added quickly, noting her sceptical look.
His arm was resting lightly on her waist. Her skirts were brushing against the leather of his buckskins. The very nearness of him was sending her pulses skittering. ‘I can’t believe that you are so out of touch. I do not expect diamonds of the first water nor even rakes in the first flush of—of rakedom,’ Caro said. ‘With only a boot boy and a few servants in my repertoire, I have not your exacting standards.’
His hand tightened on her waist. ‘Indeed, it seems to me you are singularly lacking the experience to attend any orgy. Perhaps it would be better if we made the guest list more select. Restrict it to two, say.’
Sebastian’s other hand was resting on her shoulder. His fingers stroked the bare skin at the nape of her neck, under the heavy fall of her hair. Did he know what he was doing? Did he know what it was doing to her? ‘Can two people have an orgy?’ Caro asked, trying to keep her voice level.
‘Oh, I think so, if they are inventive enough. I may be out of practice, but I can assure you that my experience is second to none,’ Sebastian replied, pulling her tight against him, and kissing her.
She was so shocked that she lay pliant in his arms for a few seconds. Then the heat of his mouth on hers, the heat of his body hard against hers, charged her senses. It had been such a long time since anyone had kissed her. And no one had ever kissed her as Sebastian kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her, feeling the soft silkiness of his short-cropped hair under her fingers. She was pressed against the paddock fence, she could feel the slats jabbing into her back. Sliding her hands down his back, she felt the ripple of his muscles under the soft linen of his shirt.
His kisses were like velvet, hot and soft and all-enveloping, so much more decadent here in the bright, bright sunlight. His tongue licked along her lips, touching the tip of hers, making her shiver. She gave a little moan, digging her fingers into the soft leather of his breeches, feeling the hard, taut muscle of his buttocks. His kiss deepened. The world darkened. Heat shivered through her veins. And then the kiss slowed, stopped. Reluctantly she opened her eyes.
Sebastian was breathing raggedly, looking, she was relieved to see, as stunned as she. ‘I don’t know about second to none, I have not your experience to compare with, but I will admit, Lord Ardhallow, that you have quite a talent for kissing.’ She was pleased with that. The most important thing was that he didn’t realise the effect he had on her, the memories that kiss had conjured. No, that was the second most important thing. The most important was that she did not allow it to conjure memories nor stupid fantasies about what that kiss might lead to because it could lead to nothing.
Sebastian made a mock bow. ‘I am pleased to have been of service.’
‘You can be of even more service to me now.’
‘How?’
The wary look he gave her almost made her laugh. ‘Take me to Burkan. I’d love to ride him again, for old times’ sake.’
Chapter Five
Caro and Sebastian lay on the grass in a distant meadow beneath the welcome shade of a huge oak tree, their horses tethered by a small stream. She had ridden astride Burkan like a man, unwilling to take the time to change into her habit lest he change his mind, Sebastian realised. It had been exhilarating in a way he had forgotten, watching the ease with which she controlled the powerful Arabian stallion, the graceful way she sat in the saddle, her hair streaming out behind her, glinting like molten copper in the sunshine, her face alight with exhilaration. Her husband and family had stripped her of life. Seeing her vibrant, glowing, made his fists curl at the thought of what she must have suffered. Any reservations he had about bringing her to Crag Hall were dissipated in the pleasure he took in seeing her so restored.
He shouldn’t have kissed her, but he hadn’t been able to resist and he didn’t regret it. That night two years ago had put an end to everything between them. For two years, he had hated her. Seeing her so pathetically fallen, his hatred had turned to pity. Seeing her now, restored to something like her old self, it was a relief to reject it all, and to simply enjoy her company as he had once done. It meant nothing. As he had said, they were two renegades, that was all, but it was nice, for a change, not to have to be a renegade alone.
‘You know, you did once urge me to do the right thing,’ Caro said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘Earlier, in the paddock,’ she added, seeing his confused look, ‘you said that you have never urged me to do the right thing, but years ago, during my first Season in London, you
did just that when you advised me not to go to Crockford’s.’
He laughed. ‘As I recall, my urging you not to visit a gaming hell only made you more determined than ever to do so.’
Caro smiled. ‘Last night, I dreamt we were dancing,’ she said. ‘Waltzing. When I woke I realised I was dreaming of the night of Lady Innellan’s ball.’ She turned to face him. ‘Why did you leave England in such a hurry?’
Sebastian shrugged. ‘I told you. I was tired of my life, I needed a change.’
‘I remember. I also remember how angry you were that night. I never did understand that part of it.’
‘You want the truth?’ Sebastian rolled over on to his side, propping his head up with his elbow. ‘My father informed me that I was ruining you. Your father informed him that he had other plans for his daughter and my attentions were unwelcome. I knew that even though I felt—oh, I don’t know what I felt, Caro, but I knew they were right, the pair of them. You did deserve better.’
She stared at him in utter astonishment. ‘My father? What had he to do with it?’
‘Lord Armstrong was the nearest thing my father had to a friend. When your friend asks you to ensure your profligate son doesn’t spoil his matrimonial plans for his daughter, then you do what you can to remove said profligate son from the scene.’ He spoke flippantly, but the pain of that last interview—that very last interview, as it turned out—was still amazingly raw even at a distance of over six years.
Caro looked aghast. ‘I remember now, Bella told me that she’d spoken to Papa but I had no idea he would—I don’t understand.’ She plucked at a long stem of grass and began to shred it between her fingernails. ‘It’s not as if things between us were ever—you made it very clear you had no serious intentions. I told Bella that.’ She cast the grass aside. ‘All I have ever done is try to do what is expected of me and all I ever get for it is—it is so unfair! I did not once, not once give him a single moment’s worry, yet it seemed he didn’t even trust me enough to—to—he went off behind my back and plotted with your father rather than simply talk to me about it!’
Rumors That Ruined a Lady Page 9