A Matter of Sin

by Jess Michaels

  “I thought you were checking on your sister, that that was why you couldn’t dance with me,” he drawled as he leaned back against the barrier that now separated them from both propriety and the safety of other people. He cocked his head. “I don’t see your sister here. Unless she is hiding behind the drapery.”

  Isabel folded her arms so he wouldn’t see her hands shake. “Of course not. I simply needed a moment to myself.”

  “So I am intruding?” Seth asked as he took a long step toward her.

  Isabel forced herself to take one of equal distance back. “It is your home and you can go wherever you like, of course, but yes, I would prefer to be alone.”

  “But you weren’t alone tonight,” he said, his tone low but somehow still accusatory.

  Isabel shook her head, truly confused by that statement. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he pressed. “You were anything but alone.”

  “I don’t understand. I stood with Serena a while and Grace, but—”

  “You danced,” he interrupted. “And you have been surrounded by men, leering, wanting men, for the entire evening.”

  Isabel’s eyes went wide. This was the one conversation she had never thought to have. “I-I beg your pardon?”

  “You told me you wouldn’t dance with me because you were here as a chaperone to your sister,” he pressed, moving forward again. “But you danced with at least three other men who I counted.”

  Isabel swallowed. He had been counting her partners? Why, that implied that he was every bit as jealous of her evening as she had been of his.

  “You are one to talk,” she managed to squeak out. “I did not go so far as to count your partners, but there were a great many women who took a turn around the ballroom floor in your arms.”

  A lie. There had been fifteen. She had been counting.

  Seth’s shook his head. “Every woman I danced with had some purpose. Either she is a potential bride or a chaperone whose good graces it is imperative I court.”

  Isabel stared at him a moment. “How very romantic of you, sir. To dance with all those women with a purpose.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And are you saying the dances you engaged in had none? Were you not looking at the men who partnered you, the ones who brought you punch, who all but drooled all over you, as potential lovers for when your sister’s situation is resolved?”

  Isabel’s mouth dropped open at his statement and she drew back slightly. “How dare you, Lord Lyndham? When I made that slip of the tongue in your garden and told you I was thinking of taking a lover in the future, it was told to you in confidence. I never thought you would throw it in my face later in order to soothe your somehow ruffled ego.”

  Seth continued to advance on her and his face was growing increasingly angry. “So you admit that you were considering them as lovers?”

  She folded her arms. She hadn’t been doing anything of sort, of course. Sir Gregory and Lord Monthaven were very nice gentlemen, but they stirred no interest whatsoever in her. However, she had no intention of telling Seth that.

  “And why shouldn’t I consider them?”

  He threw up his hands in apparent disgust. “Great God, Isabel, you could do leagues better than either of those old men. Just because your husband was well your senior doesn’t mean that you should find some brittle old coot to warm your bed now.”

  Isabel turned her face, stung just as strongly as she would have been if he had slapped her. The heat of embarrassment filled her cheeks.

  “That was incredibly ungentlemanly of you,” she whispered as she edged past him in a move toward the door.

  He didn’t allow for her escape, though. As she stepped by him, he caught her arm and dragged her closer, holding her gently but steadily as he looked down into her eyes. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. Within his gaze there was an intensity of both feeling and desire, and she couldn’t help but shiver despite her anger at him for his brutish behavior.

  “You are correct,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It was an ungentlemanly way to behave. As is this.”

  With that, he dropped his head and for the second time in as many nights, Isabel felt his warm, firm lips against hers. Last night, they had been gentle, seductive and coaxing. Tonight it was different. There was a stronger demand to the way his fingers curled around her arm, the way his tongue breached her lips, the way he deepened the kiss almost instantly.

  Isabel tried quite desperately to cling to her frustration and anger with him. To recall all the very good reasons she had to deny him and this and all the dangerous places the embrace could lead.

  Unfortunately, she failed. As soon as his tongue touched hers, as soon as she tasted the whiskey and the desire on his lips, all rationality and reason floated away. She lifted her hands up to grip his arms. She arched into him with a muffled moan of relief that was as lost within his mouth as she was.

  His fingers loosened their grip on her arms and instead found their way around her back. He cradled her against him, rocking her forward until her body molded against his, his chest to her chest, hip to hip. She gasped when she felt the hard angle of his erection pressed firmly against her abdomen.

  It had been years since she felt that kind of reaction in a man… She had forgotten how powerful it made her feel. How womanly.

  Her knees wobbled, and Isabel held tighter to Seth’s arms. He finally broke their heated kiss, though his lips remained close to hers, close enough that their breath mingled and his heat wrapped around her.

  “Let me,” he whispered as he guided her backward until she felt the settee behind her knees. She sank down without argument, and he settled onto the narrow couch beside her. Once they were positioned comfortably, his mouth returned to hers.

  Now that she no longer had to think about staying upright, Isabel trembled. She was so hot and shaky and needy that she feared there would be no relief from those sensations, that she would exist like this forever. She arched against Seth hopelessly, reaching for deeper pleasure, for release of any kind.

  He looked down at her, his face taut with tension, as if he were pondering this action…this indiscretion. The wanton in her trembled as she prayed he would come to the same needy conclusion she had.

  Finally, he gave her what she desired and returned his mouth to hers. He slid his fingers down her throat and lower, pausing to cup one soft, rounded breast. As pleasure mobbed her, Isabel let out a small cry and her back arched further.

  He groaned at the response and slid his hand down further until he found the hem of her silken gown. Slowly, he inched the fabric up, up until he settled his trembling fingers against the warmth of her stocking-clad knee.

  Isabel started. Now that he touched her so intimately, she realized what a position she was in. Sprawled across a settee in a public room of Seth’s estate, his body partially covering hers, her skirt around her waist and his hand gliding upward in slow, steady strokes—if they were caught it would be devastating.

  Her mind gave her one last option to end this. To recall duty and reason. But she couldn’t. She had come so far now that she couldn’t think of getting up. Her legs might not support her even if she wanted to run.

  So instead, she looked down. She was mesmerized by the image of Seth’s dark hand against her body. He stroked upward to her inner thigh and his skin met with her bare skin for the first time. She gasped at the sensation, and her sheath clenched in preparation for more. She was shaking, on the edge, and she wanted to fall over it more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life.

  Seth gave what she desired. He cupped her sex, and now it was he who gasped when he found she wore no undergarments. His hooded gaze snagged hers in question and she flushed.

  “The gown is fitted such that undergarments look wrong beneath it,” she explained.

  He smiled as he settled his hand to cover her swollen lower lips. She twitched at the warmth of his fingers.

  “Do you mean that all night you have been bare like
this beneath your dress?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear. He pressed a hot kiss behind it and sensation rocked through her body until she couldn’t hold back a deep, low moan. “How marvelous. Had I known, I would have chased you into a parlor sooner.”

  Isabel shivered and her hips lifted slightly. Seth stopped smiling and she felt his finger trace her entrance, lightly marking out the path he would take to breach her. She felt the ridge of his nail drag gently against her sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t help a second moan of pleasure.

  He spread her open and then his finger brushed the length of her sex, hesitating when he found the pulsing nerves that made her clitoris.

  “Wet,” he murmured against her ear. “Wonderful.”

  Isabel couldn’t take anymore. She felt her orgasm ready to explode—she knew if he touched her just right, she could have that pleasurable release and be satisfied, at least for a while.

  “Please,” she begged, her breath short. “God please, please help me.”

  He nodded against her skin, and then he stopped teasing. Stopped toying. Two thick fingers glided into her aching sex and he covered her clitoris with his thumb. She had barely had time to marvel at the feeling when he began to move in wonderful, expert strokes. Over and over, setting a rhythm that she couldn’t deny and met with her hips.

  Release crashed over her almost without preamble. One moment she was lifting to meet his touch, the next she was utterly undone, her back curving, her sheath trembling and coating his fingers with wetness, her breath gone as she bit back a cry of pure relief.

  Seth stroked her a few more times, milking extra tremors of pleasure from her weak body, and then he gently slid his fingers from her clenching channel. They lay on the couch together for a few quiet moments, their breathing matching gasps.

  Isabel was unsteady as she finally sat up. She looked down at herself with a blush and pushed to her feet in order to smooth her skirt down over her hips. Without looking at Seth, she turned toward the mirror above the fireplace. She tried to fix her tangled hair and smooth her gown in the hopes she could mask some of the wrinkles.

  “Isabel,” Seth whispered from behind her.

  She turned. She could plainly see the evidence of his desire for her. His erection strained against his fitted trouser front. To her surprise, just the sight of him made her want to remove her gown completely and straddle him, pleasure him as he had pleasured her.

  She covered her hot cheeks with her fingers. “My—my sister will wonder where I am,” she stammered. “People will notice you are gone.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “That is probably true. But returning together will cause talk galore. Why don’t you go back first?”

  She blinked. Although she had brought up the ball, she wasn’t certain she was ready to face everyone and pretend she hadn’t just been pleasured quite thoroughly.

  “Why me first?”

  He glanced down at his erection with a wry smile. “I will need to give myself a moment, take care of my…desire before I am fit to face others.”

  Isabel’s eyes widened at the idea that Seth would take himself in hand when she left. How she wished she could watch him do so. How she wanted to see him strain toward pleasure just as she had.

  She shook her head to clear her mind of those troubling desires. “Of course,” she said, trying not to look at him. “I will leave you.”

  He watched her as she crossed the room, but he didn’t speak. And Isabel fled in the hopes that she would be able to clear her mind of what had happened between them.

  Chapter Nine

  “Allow yourself to be opened, like a flower toward the sun.”—The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  Teatime had always been one of Isabel’s favorite parts of the day. She liked sitting down with a group of friends or fellow partygoers and engaging in small talk. She had managed to make a great number of good friends over tea, including her two best ones, and heard the most interesting facts about strangers.

  Today, however, the gathering was nothing short of torture, for Lady Lyndham had suggested the ladies take their refreshment in the parlor off the ballroom.

  The very parlor where Isabel had shared her tryst with Seth.

  The room seemed different in daylight. Sunshine streamed through the big windows Isabel, in her passion, hadn’t even noticed the night before. Heat filled her cheeks and she couldn’t help but let her gaze move to the settee across from her.

  That was where she and Seth had indulged in sinful pleasures. Where he had touched her so intimately and made her ache and moan with release.

  Today one of the ladies and her charge sat on the cushions, completely oblivious to the shocking acts that had been performed there so recently.

  She dragged in a ragged breath and turned her face. This had to stop. She had been reliving those imprudent moments since she left this chamber last night. She had even woken in her bed with her own hand between her legs, aware she was dreaming of Seth’s touch.

  Grace leaned closer. “Are you all right, my dear? You are very pale.”

  Isabel shook off her thoughts, grateful for the interruption that brought her back to reality. She glanced at her friend. She hadn’t told Grace what had happened. She wasn’t certain she ever would, for she was certain her friend would have strong opinions on the matter.

  She forced a smile. “Oh, I’m fine, thank you. But I think I shall go browse some of those delectable cakes on the sideboard.”

  Without waiting for her friend’s response, Isabel got up and moved across the room. She stared at the pretty little cakes with unseeing eyes, praying some kind of propriety and focus would return to her.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Avenbury.”

  Isabel turned to see who had approached her, and her heart sank. Standing just a step away was Lady Lyndham, a plate in her hand and a wide, generous smile on her face.

  “Lady Lyndham,” she forced past dry lips. “What wonderful food you have provided for us today.”

  The other woman smiled. “We have the best cook in the country, I would dare anyone to deny it. And I asked her to prepare all my favorite tea items since I only rarely share my refreshment in a group like this.”

  Isabel sighed. This, at least, was a benign topic. “Do you? Is there a reason?”

  The other lady nodded. “I more often take my tea in my private chamber, as a way to allow my family to have a moment with me. But with Seth out with the men on their ride this afternoon and my daughters not in attendance—one is out of the country with her husband and the other has retired to spend her third confinement in the countryside—I thought I would break tradition.”

  “That is a lovely tradition to have, my lady,” Isabel said.

  The other woman smiled. “I suppose once Seth marries, it will be one I no longer indulge in.”

  There was a sudden sadness to Lady Lyndham’s face that Isabel tended to understand.

  “You mean because he will be settled and no longer require your counsel?” she asked.

  Lady Lyndham nodded.

  “I think I understand your feeling, my lady,” Isabel said. “Marjorie and Serena weren’t my children, but I raised them for many years. Although I wish for their happiness, the idea of both of them being grown and on their own does sometimes bring a sting of sadness.”

  The other woman looked at her in surprise. “You know, my dear, you are still so young, it is odd for me to think that you might understand my feelings, but you have summed them up perfectly. But we mustn’t be melancholy, after all there will be nieces and nephews soon for you and more grandchildren for me once I see Seth married.”

  Isabel swallowed, once again picturing Seth as a happily married man with children playing at his feet.

  Some other woman’s children.

  “And perhaps one day you will marry again,” Lady Lyndham continued as she laid a gentle hand on Isabel’s.

  Isabel looked at the other woman. As kind as she was being, there was no question that she saw Isabel
as more of a peer than a potential mate for her son. This conversation, though not by any design by her hostess, was a painful reminder of how far removed Isabel was now from the frivolity of courtship and the thrill of not knowing what the future would bring.

  She smiled as she withdrew her hand from the other woman’s. “Oh, I doubt I shall marry again.”

  “Don’t say that,” Lady Lyndham said with a frown. “You lost your husband, but I know from personal experience that time, unfortunately, marches on. I would hope someone so young as you are will not truly close the door to the idea of companionship.”

  Isabel smiled at the other woman’s passion on the subject. She supposed Lady Lyndham did know a great deal about grief. She had lost a husband and a son in relatively close order. Now she put all her hopes in Seth.

  “I am very sorry for the loss of your husband and your son, my lady,” Isabel said softly.

  Lady Lyndham nodded, but there was a sudden sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Thank you. It was a tremendous heartbreak for us all, but Seth has carried on admirably. He has a great deal to bear on his shoulders, but I hope that a bride will help him with some of it.”

  Isabel swallowed. “Indeed.”

  “Now I should go say hello to a few of my guests. I see Lady Saunders and Mrs. Robertson have sat next to each other and everyone knows they will feud if they are not managed properly. Excuse me.”

  Isabel laughed as Lady Lyndham smiled and moved toward the circle of women a few steps away, but when she was gone, Isabel’s smile fell.

  The other woman’s words about the burden Seth had to bear had struck home for her in ways she hadn’t expected. This thing between them only complicated both of their duties. And she wouldn’t want to cause him pain or grief because of their strange attraction.

  Last night when she had returned to the ball, she had fully intended not to ever speak to Seth of what they had done. But now she realized that wasn’t the proper way to handle this delicate matter. They would have to talk, they would have to face what they had done.