Romancing the Countess

by Ashley March

  She cried again, missing the strength of Sebastian’s embrace. Her future with him was clear: she either chose to continue giving in to her vulnerability and the fear of losing herself again, or she chose him.

  That evening, Leah met Sebastian in the drawing room as was their usual habit before dinner was served. She’d taken special care in her choice of gown: a dark rose-colored dress which sloped at the shoulders and curved at the middle of her chest. It was a modest dress in terms of evening gowns, but the way the material moved against her body didn’t insinuate innocence as much as sensuality. There were few times in her life Leah had ever dressed for the sole purpose of attracting a man’s attention. Tonight was one of those nights.

  She smiled and chatted with him as he escorted her into the dining room, and she tried very hard to focus on each course of the meal, but in the middle of pushing around the duck with turbot sauce, she realized Sebastian had ceased talking. And apparently he’d been staring at her for quite some time.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Leah set aside her fork and folded her hands in her lap. Biting her lip, she looked at the servants. Sebastian dismissed them with a motion of his hand.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said.

  “Are you ill?” he asked, a frown creasing his brow.

  “No. I’d like to go to my bedchamber.”

  Although he still appeared bewildered, Sebastian stood as she rose to her feet. She stared at him.

  “Leah?”

  “I . . . I would like for you to go with me.” They were only words, and yet once they were said, she felt as if all the strength had been drained from her body.

  He didn’t understand. She could tell by the way he came swiftly to her side, as if she might faint at any moment, wrapping his hand around her upper arm. “Shall I send for a physician?”

  “No,” she said, then straightened her shoulders as she drew in a breath. “I’m inviting you to come to my bed.”

  His fingers tightened on her arm, and his eyes lowered, concealing his reaction.

  “Of course, I might shut you out at the door,” she jested, and smiled when he looked up.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes,” she said, her answer barely more than a whisper. “Yes,” she repeated, her voice stronger, firmer.

  He nodded and led her out the room, down the hall, and up the stairs. When they reached her bedchamber, he paused, and she knew he was waiting for her to change her mind.

  “Open the door,” she said. He did, sliding his other hand down her arm to twine his fingers with hers. He pulled her inside.

  They faced each other at the foot of the bed, and she could hear his breathing, equally as loud as her own.

  “Shall I undress you?” he asked. She nodded, and turned her back toward him. His hands were sure as he unfastened the buttons, steady unlike the faint trembling of her legs, and soon the gown gaped at her waist, her bodice dipping forward from her chest. Leah withdrew her arms from the sleeves and closed her eyes as she felt Sebastian reach low for her skirts and pull the gown over her head.

  She kept her eyes closed as he continued to undress her. First her corset, her petticoats. Her shoes, her stockings, her drawers. Her chemise. Each article of clothing fell to the floor beside her, and she only moved at his direction.

  “Lift your arms.”

  “Bend your knee.”

  “Move your foot.”

  He made his commands, and she obeyed him, imagining each order as if it came from her lady’s maid. She didn’t try to cover herself but retreated mentally, focusing on the darkness behind her eyelids, not speaking a word.

  Then his fingers were in her hair, plucking out the pins, and heavy locks began to fall over her shoulders, down her back, across her naked breasts. She could feel him move around until he stood in front of her.

  His hand cupped her cheek, warming her skin as he tilted her face upward. “Leah.”

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring directly into his.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  And she closed them again, for they were the echo of Ian’s words, repeated by Sebastian’s voice.

  “I’m not going to do anything more unless you tell me to do it.”

  She nodded.

  “And I won’t do anything you tell me to do unless you look at me. It’s me, Leah. Sebastian. I’m not Ian.”

  “I know,” she said, and looked at him. It was a lie, however, for even though her eyes told her differently, her heart and mind were convinced that it would be just as it had been before, with Ian.

  He stepped forward, not close enough that they touched, but enough that she could feel the heat of his body warming her own as he bent his head. “And I promise you,” he murmured in her ear, “I want you more than he ever did. Much, much more.”

  “I believe you.” Another lie.

  He moved back and removed his evening jacket, his waistcoat, his cravat, his shirt. He held her gaze until he stood before her, bare to the waist. “Do I look like Ian?”

  Leah allowed herself to admire him, to let her eyes trail over the carved contours of his shoulders and arms. A fine matting of dark hair covered his chest and spread downward across his abdomen which was defined by even more muscles. He was broad where Ian had been narrow, thick where Ian had been lean, dark where Ian had been golden.

  “No.” She returned her gaze to his. “You don’t look like Ian.”

  “Touch me,” he said. “Put your hand over my chest.”

  She did, placing her palm in the center, over his breastbone. The hair was surprisingly soft, and his hand was hot as he moved hers, until she could feel the beating of his heart.

  He held his hand over hers, imprisoning her. “Do you feel how it pounds? How it races? Being this close to you is nearly unbearable. It’s difficult to breathe, difficult to look at you, knowing that you don’t desire me as I do you.”

  She moved her fingers, smoothed them over his skin as much as his hand would allow. “I do desire you,” she said, staring at his chest.

  “Do you?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks, and she tried to pull away, but he held her fast. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t.”

  “I see. It’s not a test, then, to see how far you can push yourself?”

  “No.”

  He released her hand, and it dropped back to her side. For the first time, Leah became fully aware of her nakedness, the aloofness and isolation she’d tried so hard to maintain suddenly disappearing. She would have attempted to cover her breasts and the juncture of her thighs, but he was watching her, his gaze knowing, as if he understood her better than she did herself.

  “I said I wouldn’t do anything unless you told me to,” he said. “Tell me to touch you.”

  She lifted her chin, refusing to retreat from his challenge. “Touch me.”

  He started at the base of her throat, moving downward to her collarbone, then lower, circling the areola of one breast before going to the next.

  “I suppose Ian touched you here?” he said, his gaze holding hers captive.

  Leah frowned. “Yes, but I don’t want to—” She gasped as he caught her nipple between his finger and thumb, tugging gently, then pinching.

  “No, you don’t want to talk about him. But I know you’ll be thinking about him when I touch you, comparing us.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” Even as she said it, her mind conjured an image of Ian leaning over her, the canopy beyond his head.

  “Yes, you will. But after tonight, I promise you’ll never think of him again when I’m with you. It will be only you and me.”

  “And are you thinking of Angela when you touch me now?”

  “No.” His eyes met hers evenly. “You’ve long ago chased away her memory, Leah.” He paused, as if letting his words sink in. “Is there anything you and Ian didn’t do together?”

  Leah flushed. “I—I don’t believe
so.”

  Sebastian’s eyes darkened. He knelt to the floor before her and braced his hands on either side of her hips. Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue against one nipple, then another. “Did he kiss you?” he murmured, then captured the hardened peak between his lips, biting softly, pleasure and pain melding together until he laved it with his tongue. His hand rose from her hip and cupped her breast, scalding her as he held her still while he sucked, his tongue continuing to lick at her.

  Leah’s hands hovered over his head, then dropped back to her sides.

  Sebastian leaned back, looking up at her. “Did he kiss your breasts, Leah? Did he take your nipples into his mouth?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  He trailed his mouth down her stomach, nibbling a path toward the crease at the top of her thigh. He moved slowly, torturing her, and Leah wanted to scream for him to hurry, to get it over with. To not make love to her like Ian had.

  He pulled his mouth away, and his fingers touched the hair between her thighs. “Black,” he murmured, tilting his head to give her a crooked, wicked smile. “I was wrong.”

  Leah couldn’t contain her moan this time, and as if of their own will, her legs parted, waiting. But he moved on, teasing her as he smoothed his hands over her thighs, her calves, her ankles. He bent over, placing hot kisses on the insides of her legs, rising as he nibbled at the sides of her knees. She had to steady herself by putting her hands on his shoulders when he kissed the insides of her thighs, her mind succumbing to the heavy, languorous pull of pleasure as she realized he was acting out his fantasy.

  Her legs slid farther apart. A silent plea.

  When he pulled away once more, she nearly cried out in frustration. But his hands moved where his mouth should have been, soothing her dampened flesh with his fingers.

  “Leah.”

  Her name was a command, and she obeyed, bending her head to see the flame of need in his eyes, the sulky want of his mouth.

  “Did Ian touch you here?” he asked, and his thumb rubbed across the tender peak of her flesh.

  “Yes,” she choked out, clenching his shoulders. He pushed his middle finger inside her, and Leah whimpered.

  “Did he put his mouth to you? Did he kiss you here? Did he lick and suck and bite you?”

  “Goddamn you,” she cried out, her knees beginning to buckle. “Yes, goddamn you.”

  His thumb worked steadily, his middle finger sliding in and out. “And did you come for him, Leah? Look at me,” he ordered when her lids fell, their weight heavy as she tried to concentrate on the movement of his hand. “Answer me.”

  She glared at him. “Yes! I came. Over and over and over again.”

  “Then do it for me. Come for me now,” he said softly, and with a flick of his thumb, she bowed over, every muscle stiffening, quivering, her hips jerking against his hand as he lightened his touch, bringing her down gently.

  Leah’s arm wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder, her breast pressed against his cheek. She panted. She might never be able to suck in enough air again. She felt Sebastian turn his head and place a kiss on the side of her breast; then he stood and scooped her into his arms.

  “I don’t like you,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest.

  He laid her on the bed and pulled the counterpane over her as she turned on her side. “That’s all right,” he said. “We’re married. Sooner or later I’ll convince you otherwise.”

  He moved away, and she heard the rustle of her gown as he picked it up off the ground.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “No.”

  The muffled thud of boots hit the floor, followed by what she presumed to be the removal of his trousers. The room fell dark except for the fire still flickering in the hearth. Her breath quickened again when she felt the slight dip of the mattress. She waited for him to pull her against him, to try to arouse her again, to adjust their bodies so he could enter her from behind. When minutes passed and he didn’t touch her, she rolled onto her back and turned her head toward him.

  He lay facing her on the opposite side of the bed, and she made out the glint of his green eyes by the firelight as he stared at her.

  “Sebastian?”

  He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing over her mouth much the same as he’d done in the garden at Linley Park. “After he made love to you, did Ian stay here with you, or did he return to the master chamber?”

  “He left,” she said, her lips moving beneath his touch.

  Sebastian withdrew his hand. “Then allow me to stay the night, if only to sleep beside you.”

  “You don’t want . . . anything more?”

  “No. Tonight, I just want to be with you.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. She’d been prepared to see to his needs, but he didn’t want anything else. She hesitated, then rolled back to her side and stared into the fire. “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.”

  She watched the fire die down until only embers remained. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn’t fall asleep. She was too aware of him behind her, the memory of his touch and his mouth upon her skin.

  He’d forced her to tell him what Ian had done, how he’d made love to her. But she hadn’t told him that she’d never responded like that before. Sebastian’s touch was different, eliciting something in her that had been far greater than simple pleasure.

  Nothing at all had been the same.

  Chapter 21

  I must have packed and unpacked my valise a thousand times already. Truly, all I need to take with me is my portrait of Henry. Besides that, you are all I need.

  The following morning when Leah woke up, Sebastian was gone. She fought a sense of disappointment as she sat in the middle of the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. She remembered waking up several times during the night and having him there beside her, the comfort and warmth of his arms. While some of her fear and doubts were still present, he’d made it possible to believe in herself a little more. He hadn’t used her, but gave her pleasure without seeking his own. He’d then offered her comfort, when it must have cost him dearly to lie beside her, aching with need.

  Sebastian.

  Leah flopped back on the bed, turning her head toward the sunlight streaming in through the curtains. She smiled.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Leah hurriedly pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Enter,” she called.

  A maid came in, balancing a tray against her hip. “Good morning, milady. His lordship has sent breakfast to you, as he’s already eaten.” She waited for Leah to sit up, then set the tray before her. “And I’m to give you this as well,” she said, handing Leah a note.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, then waited for the maid to leave before quickly unfolding the paper.

  I’ve taken Henry to the village with me today. Rest while you can, for he’s already anxious to see you this morning. We’ll miss you.

  –S

  Leah smoothed the parchment out beside her and reread it repeatedly while she ate. She wondered what matter of importance called Sebastian into the nearby village, and why he’d taken Henry with him. And she wondered if Sebastian had labored over every single word writing it as she did reading, trying to decipher possible hidden meanings. Such as “We’ll miss you.” Had Henry told Sebastian that he would miss her, or had Sebastian simply included him because he didn’t want to admit that he would miss her? The “we” made it seem more impersonal, somehow, although if it were the truth and they both would equally miss her, then that was something spectacular, actually.

  Her husband and her son.

  The thought of them made her chest ache, and already she wished they were home.

  Leah tried to relax that morning—she truly did—but her ears kept listening for the sound of their return. None of the books she chose from the library held her attention, and she changed her morning dress twice, thinking about how Sebastian would look at her when he
saw her again. So much between them had changed, but she was still uncertain where to go from here, or what he would expect from her.

  When they hadn’t returned by the lunch hour, Leah began to worry. Only a little. After all, the village was no more than an hour away, and not very large at that. What could they possibly be doing which would take them so long?

  Trying not to fret, especially when she saw clouds moving in across the sky, Leah went to her writing table in her bedchamber and pulled out Angela’s packet of letters. It had been a while since she’d read any, at least since before their wedding. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to read any more after that, hadn’t wanted to be reminded of Angela when she looked at Sebastian. But it was the only thing she could think of to distract her for a moment, and so she sat on the window seat and untied the ribbon, letting the letters fall into her lap as she glanced out the window.

  Still no carriage.

  Sighing, Leah picked up the first letter from the jumbled pile; she’d been too careless, and now they were out of order. She opened and folded one after another, placed them to the side as she tried to find one she hadn’t read. Soon only one letter lay in her lap.

  Leah picked up the letter and opened it.

  My darling,

  I’ve made the arrangements as we agreed. I haven’t been able to sleep for fear that I will wake up and discover that I am dreaming. Two days! Two days until we’re together. Two days until we never have to part again. Do you know how often I’ve dreamed about being able to wake up beside you? Soon, I will.

  I know one day I’ll see Henry again, and I love you all the more for understanding my anguish. How I wish that he were yours, that I had met you first, that he could be our child. But as the heir, I know it’s more likely for Sebastian not to try to follow us if I leave Henry . . . my dear, sweet boy. I pray that soon I’ll be able to give you a son, and then you too can know this joy I hold deep in my heart. I will send you one more letter when I confirm the time, and then we will be together.