“Good evening, my lord.” Dr. Dandridge inclined his head politely towards the Earl of Ravenhurst upon entering the room fully.
“Good evening, Doctor. I will leave you to your examination, but please attend to her well. She is my betrothed.”
Dr. Dandridge’s small eyes widened at that statement. “Of course, my lord,” he huffed excitedly, and hurried further into the room. He set his black bag on the end of the bed. He turned and rubbed the circulation into his thick hands before examining the patient. “I will do everything in my power to ensure she is able to wed you very soon, yes, very soon indeed.”
“Thank you.” Sebastian said, wondering about the good doctor’s sudden enthusiasm. If he did not know better he would think the good doctor was aware of his intimate relations with his wife, and was more than happy to hear that Sebastian was going to be occupied elsewhere soon.
Sebastian would have to agree since Annabelle had been even more eager and demanding in bed than usual. Looking at the good doctor now, he could see why.
THE DANDRIDGE’S LONDON TOWNHOUSE
The moment he walked into her room, Annabelle gave him one of her hungry stares.
“What took you so long?” She shrugged out of her robe. The frothy pink material pooled on the ground at her feet. She stepped out of it with only her stockings and slippers on. Her wild red hair was swept up in a messy coiffure and her blue eyes were smudged with makeup. If he did not know better he would think she had been crying.
“Take off your clothes.” She lifted her leg onto the chair and made a show of adjusting her stocking. With a wicked little smile, she turned slightly, and ran her hands up her body. Her hands cupped her breasts and she toyed with her already taut nipples.
Sebastian, watched. Normally, her little display would have evoked an immediate response. At the very least, he would have found it amusing, but not this time.
“What is taking you so long?” she cooed sweetly and leaned forward. “Adam will be home soon.”
Sebastian did not move. He was suddenly wondering what in the bloody hell he was even doing here.
Annabelle frowned. “Sebastian,” she whined and dropped her leg from the chair. “Take off your clothes, now!”
He cocked his brow at her, not liking her tone.
“I am getting cold,” she said sweetly, coating her earlier outburst with sugar. She shivered for effect and slowly made her way over to him. She stepped closer, so her breasts were pressed against his chest. Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck and slid her hands over his breeches and squeezed.
He stood there, letting her toy with him, but he was unresponsive. “Annabelle,” he exhaled, “perhaps this is not such a good idea after all.” He placed his hands on top of hers.
“Oh, do not be silly.” She smiled wickedly. “It is merely cold in here,” she breathed. “I will warm you up in no time.” She rubbed him faster.
Sebastian noticed the worry in her voice, the trepidation. He had to admit he felt a little bad, but after Marguerite left him, something changed. He changed, he supposed.
Annabelle was not easily deterred though. She leaned forward and unfastened his breeches. Not even bothering to remove his boots she pulled down his breeches. Smiling coyly, she pushed him backward into the chair. She knelt down in front of him. “See is this not better,” she said and pulled the pins from her hair. The length tumbled over his bare thighs, tickling them.
Leaning forward, she kissed the trail of dark hair just below his navel down his taut stomach and then she took his length into her mouth.
He inhaled sharply, and gripped the chair. “Yes, that is it.”
Some of the stress he had been feeling began to fade away and he closed his eyes as she coaxed him to life with her tireless ministrations. Increasing the pressure with her lips, she suckled his length, teasing him with her tongue.
He threaded his fingers in her hair. “Hmmm, that’s right love,” he urged and his jaw clenched as she took him further into her mouth. Reaching out, he brushed her hair back and helped her move her head up and down. She took him to the back of her throat. He inhaled sharply. “Yes, that is it.” His jaw clenched, and he held her head in place… he was so close…
She knew it too. She jerked her head back. “Sebastian!” She stood up. “What about me?” she pouted.
He cracked a lid open. “What about you?”
She reached up and wiped the spittle from her mouth. “You are not funny.” She leaned forward, pressed her hands against his chest, and climbed on top of his lap, straddling him. Reaching down, she guided his length inside her body. Leaning forward, she licked his neck and ear.
“Sebastian,” she sighed in exasperation. He kept slipping out. Again, she reached down to guide him back inside her body but he was losing his rigidness fast. “What’s the matter with you?” she whined.
“I do not know,” he said. “I guess I am not in the mood any longer.”
Her eyes widened. “What? You can not mean that. This is the only time I will be able to see you for at least a month.”
“I guess I can see you after then.” Although if the truth were to be told, he was not too worried about it.
“Please, Sebastian,” she begged and then leaned forward once more. She kissed his chest and neck. Her fingers caressed the slippery wetness as she squeezed and moved her hand faster over his length.
“Annabelle…” he breathed exasperated. He reached forward to still her hand. “You are rubbing my skin off.”
“Oh do not be silly.” She ignored him, rubbed her breasts against his chest, and kissed his stomach eagerly.
He ran his hands through his hair and uttered an expletive under his breath. “Annabelle… sorry, love, but this is not working.”
“You just need a little of Annabelle’s sugar and you will be right as rain.” Reaching out she grabbed hold of his length again and squeezed harder.
In sudden pain, his breath hitched. “Sorry, sweet. I just do not see this happening tonight.” He placed his hand over hers and pushed her back.
“Nonsense Sebastian,” she whined. “Try to clear your mind, I know I can make it work.” Her face twisted in an angry pout and she stood up. Walking over to the bed, she twitched her bare ass back and forth and made a big show of climbing up on the bed.
Sebastian stood up and refastened his breeches. He walked over to the bed.
She smiled up at him and reached down between her legs to toy with herself.
He watched her for a moment. Nothing. He felt nothing. There was no inclination whatsoever to take her up on the invitation she was so blatantly offering him. “I think I am going to go.” He buttoned up his shirt.
“You are leaving?” She sat up. Anger flashed in her eyes. This time, she did not attempt to mask her frustration.
“Yes, Annabelle, I believe I am,” Sebastian said without hesitation, surprised by his own candor.
“Well, take a good long look because if you leave now, this is the last time you will see me,” she warned vehemently, fuming. “Do you understand?”
Sebastian pulled on his waistcoat. “Well if that is the way it has to be.”
Her face twisted up with bitter indignation. And still, he felt nothing. It was funny. Should her remark not evoke some feeling from inside? But there was nothing. No sadness, anger, or remorse.
“Goodbye, Annabelle,” he said and then turned on his heel and walked away. Her angry screams followed him out the door.
‡
His mind came back to the present. He looked back over at Marguerite lying on the bed. How sweet and innocent she appeared. Yes, he believed the good doctor was right… he may have someone else to occupy his time after all.
KEY TWO
Sebastian watched from the window as Dr. Dandridge hoisted his heavy form into the waiting carriage. The footman closed the door and the carriage pulled away.
The prognosis was clear. Marguerite had a mild concussion and should be right as rain in no time at all. Dr. Dandridge e
ven went so far as to say that he saw no reason why Sebastian could not wed her within the week. And if the good doctor had an ulterior motive, he did not outwardly show it. Sebastian wondered briefly if the good doctor would pass the news of his betrothed’s return on to his wife. Knowing Annabelle, she would be livid. Well, such was life. He really did not care.
Turning away from the window, he strode toward the library, intent on getting a drink of his finest. He was barely inside the doors when he pulled up short in his progression.
“There you are, de Winter,” Devlin said, turning fully around. He was holding an overfilled snifter of brandy. “I wondered where you had gotten to.”
Sebastian quelled his irritation, watching Devlin Renquist, the new Lord of Hawthorne, his Aunt Isabelle’s rakehell of a husband, sip his finest in his stead. The aged liquid sloshed over the side of his glass and spilled onto the carpet.
“Sorry, de Winter,” Devlin said absently and took another drink. “This is good stuff.” He lifted his glass, and more of the liquid spilled onto the carpet.
Ignoring the mess, Sebastian took a breath and walked over to get a drink of his own. “So, Renquist, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” He really did not care for the man at all. However, he had been supportive when Marguerite disappeared, so Sebastian supposed he could afford him some kind of allowance. “What finds you out and about at this hour?”
“Oh, I was out for my evening ride and decided to take a moment to check on you.” He tugged on his jacket, smoothing a wrinkle. “I wanted to see how you are faring in these difficult times and all that.”
“How considerate of you.” Sebastian was not buying it. “But surely you did not ride all this way simply to check on me?” Hawthorne Manor bordered his property, but it was at least a good hour’s ride away.
Devlin brushed his hand over the sleeve of his jacket, smoothing out another nonexistent wrinkle. “Oh, you do read me so well. I hate to admit, but with your Aunt Isabelle and my sister Judith both in attendance, the walls of Hawthorne have a way of closing in on a man.”
Sebastian splashed brandy in his own glass and lifted it up. He shook his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, although I do love my aunt dearly, well, let’s just say, better you than me.”
Devlin chuckled and shook his head in agreement. “Touché. Really, old boy, how are you faring? It has been quite some time since her disappearance.”
“How am I faring?” Sebastian placed his glass on the mantel and stared down into the flames of the fire. “Funny you should ask.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Devlin. “It seems my elusive bride has returned to me.”
Devlin coughed and spewed a good deal of his drink on the carpet again.
Sebastian did not mind the spill that time. He stepped forward and patted him on his back until his coughing fit subsided.
Devlin pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. “You have got to be kidding me? I am telling you, de Winter, I had no idea you had such a sick sense of humor.”
Sebastian took a drink and lowered his glass. “I am absolutely serious. She is upstairs… resting.” He walked back to the fireplace. Perhaps, resting upstairs, was not quite the right turn of phrase.
All color drained from Renquist’s face.
Sebastian walked over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and smirked into the darkness. It served him right. “Unconscious is better.” He turned from the window and took a deep breath. “Yes, Renquist, she is abed, upstairs, completely and totally unconscious.” He dropped the curtain and walked back over to the mantle. Lifting his glass, he turned and sat down heavily in one of the winged chairs in front of the fire. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes.
Renquist followed his lead and sat just as heavily in the neighboring chair. “Bloody hell.”
Sebastian lifted his glass in a silent salute and bade him a “Bloody hell,” as well.
LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING
HAWTHORNE ESTATE * VICTORIAN ENGLAND
“THAT Bitch!” Judith Alexandra Beauchamp rubbed her forehead, as if it caused her great pain to utter the next question. “Will she never die?” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and paced the length of the study, which made her dark blue, silk skirt, swirl out around her ankles.
“Calm down, love,” Renquist said, trying to soothe Judith’s temper. Casually sipping his brandy, he watched her display of outrage while admiring her petite frame and delicate features, silently hoping her small, but well- proportioned breasts, would soon escape their confines.
People on a whole were so gullible. They believed what they wanted to see, and although he and Judith shared slight similarities in their coloring, he would not have bought for a moment they were brother and sister. Isabelle, his newly acquired bride, was one of those people. Lucky for him—mayhap not too lucky for her though.
Judith stopped pacing and stared at the elegant blonde man in front of her. He was tall in stature, but on the thin side. He leaned against the mantel in a nonchalant pose, staring at her with the most penetrating black eyes.
“In all likelihood, she will not even remember what happened,” he said casually. “You did say her back was turned. We can always spin the story to our satisfaction and say the bump on her head caused her to think things happened, which really did not.”
“I certainly hope for both our sakes that is the case, Devlin. If not, let me remind you, should she indeed remember, we will be ruined. Ruined, Devlin! Do you understand?” Judith nearly screamed out the last.
Devlin cringed. He did not take kindly to anyone yelling at him, or in his direction, for that matter. Clutching his drink a little too tightly, his ire rose. “Well, sweet, if you recall, you are the one that fouled up the attempt in the first place.”
“How was I to know she would survive? I hit her as hard as I could! There was blood pouring out of her head. At least—I think that was blood. I really can not say for sure though, with all that hair she always had pulled up into some concoction her maid created.” Judith rubbed her arms for effect. “My arms still hurt just thinking how hard I hit her. It jarred me terribly.” She delicately shuddered as if the memory still caused her great pain. “If Magdalene, de Winter’s blasted housekeeper had not been yelling for her, I would have stayed to make sure my strike was true. But someone had to go in her stead, or else that meddlesome housekeeper, who I might add, oversteps her boundaries quite often, would have come into the gallery. Of course, she would have assumed the worst.”
Renquist chuckled. “Love, as far as the housekeeper assuming the worst, let us be honest, she certainly would have been correct in her assumption. You are the culprit in this. You did do the dastardly deed, remember?”
“Because you would not, Devlin. And if you will recall, I told you to take her riding and dump her in that ravine de Winter’s father fell into.” She stomped her foot. “In addition, I might add, if you could control your most basic urges, she would not have seen us together.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, it was her own fault, if she were not so blasted nosey, none of this would have occurred in the first place.”
“That is neither here nor there,” he said. “I say, you should be thanking me, not scolding me. At least, give me credit for my acting abilities. Do you not realize how difficult it was for me to feign concern? Not to mention having to listen to de Winter persecute himself for her disappearance. I say, I should be given a lead role on Drury Lane after the performance I gave.” Turning, he inspected his reflection in the mirror behind him. Satisfied, he continued, “I must admit to being a bit unsettled with her mysterious return, and getting a blow to her head… it does sound a bit too tidy.”
Devlin paused and crossed his arms across his chest, tapping his chin, contemplating… there was always the legend to consider, stories were told, rumors spread… Ravenhurst was an ominous place to be sure.
What happened to all of those ill-gotten treasures? What blackened the noble knight’s heart? What really happened to the
poor woman? Was it the house itself? Or some other dark force at play?
Bits and pieces of the legend had been swirling about for years and years. Everyone told a slightly different version… some added… some took away parts. No one ever knew the truth of the legend itself, but it surrounded the ancient edifice, just like the heavy curtain of fog that never seems to fade.
Over the years, the legend took on a life of its own… like a living, breathing thing. The only time Devlin ever heard mention of the legend was in harried tones, whispered in dark taverns, or the dim corners of crowded ballrooms. They were always hushed as though someone or something was listening.
Forcing his attention back to Judith, he tried to shake off the sudden unease that spread over him. “I do wonder where she has been all this time. I say, it is a good thing I do not give credence to magic or mystical rubbish, or else I believe we would both be in for a day of reckoning.” Despite telling Judith and reassuring himself, it did not stop him from shivering slightly.
“Well, that is certainly something to think on at a later date. But since we have no answers in the foreseeable future, may I suggest we find something else to occupy our time?” Judith purred. She pulled down most of her bodice to expose herself to Devlin as she made her way across the room. Standing on her toes she leaned into him and ran her hand down the length of his chest to the place she so liked to frequent of late.
Devlin watched her. He knew she was keeping something from him. He could always tell. Nevertheless, he would bide his time, and eventually, find out. In the meantime, he planned to take full advantage of the delectable treat she was offering so freely. She did so aim to please when she had secrets to keep. “Since my dear wife will be indisposed for an undetermined amount of time, may I suggest we continue this particular conversation upstairs?” He smiled and took Judith’s hand, placing it through his arm. “
A Knight Such as This: Enhanced with Interactive Content: (Time Travel Romance) Book 1 & 2 (Ravenhurst Series) Page 5