by Ashley March
“I don’t suppose you can run away now, can you?” he asked softly.
Leah stiffened at the quiet, murmured threat. “Sebastian?”
“There have been many ways that I’ve thought about telling you this—”
In her mind, she saw Ian bent at Angela’s breast again. Leah gripped the bench at either side, waiting, unsure what he would say, but staggered by how much greater the pain was this time.
“—and many times as well, but I never felt like it was the right time.” He looked down at the water, brought a hand up to scrub the length of his jaw. “In truth, I don’t think it will ever feel like it’s the right time.”
“You don’t want me anymore.” That was the most obvious conclusion; easy enough to believe after the way he’d left her bedchamber earlier that evening.
His hand dropped away and he stared at her. “I love you, Leah.” Even in the faint light from the moon, his expression was one of torment.
“I—I—” She stammered, and she suddenly felt hot all over, then cold. Then, because even though she had tried to escape her background, and because politeness was still ingrained into her very core, she said, “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” He laughed, an incredulous sound. “Thank you?”
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, lowering her gaze.
He didn’t say anything, either, and when she finally looked up after a long moment, she found him studying her, one corner of his mouth drawn into a tight, sad smile. “I made a mistake, didn’t I? I was right at the beginning—I never should have asked you to marry me.”
She clasped her hands together, hid them in folds of her cloak as she wrung them. “I . . . enjoy being married to you, Sebastian. I truly do. And I adore Henry—”
He cut her off, slashing his hand through the air angrily. “This isn’t about Henry,” he said. “This is about you, and me, and the fact that you will never forgive me.”
“I have nothing to forgive you for—”
“You will never forgive Ian—”
“I have already forgiven him!” she shouted.
The boat rocked, the lake lapping little waves at the side. Despite her flushed cheeks, Leah was suddenly colder in the silence, and she huddled further into her cloak. “I have,” she repeated. Then, feeling the need to defend herself, she said, “It’s never been about Ian . . . well, at least, not all of it.” She stared at her hands, clasped so tightly together in her lap that her knuckles turned white. She inhaled deeply, then released a sigh. She looked up, met his gaze, then looked away to the moon’s reflection on the water. “It’s always been Angela.”
As she watched, she saw a ripple in the reflection of the moon. She thought it was a fish, but then another ripple marred the surface and she felt wetness splash against her cheek.
“Angela?” he asked, and although he didn’t raise his voice, she could hear the bite of impatience, the confusion.
Leah examined the sky. Another raindrop, then another, spattered over her cheeks, landed right below her eye. “It’s raining,” she said, glancing at him. “We should go back.”
“No. It’s only a little drizzle. You’re not running away this time.”
Before he could even finish the sentence, a rumble of thunder poured from the sky, and at its pronouncement a sheet of rain fell from the heavens. “Fine,” Sebastian said, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. He glared at her, as if she’d been the one to start the storm. “I’ll row back, but we’re not finished talking.”
She nodded, relieved at least to have a momentary reprieve.
He unhooked the oars. “How do you mean it’s about Angela?” Apparently he didn’t intend on waiting until they returned to the house.
She thought about pretending she didn’t hear him, but he only said her name louder.
“Leah? What do you mean—”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She, too, raised her voice to be heard over the sound of the rain cascading down, repelling against the lake.
“Well, you did, so finish it.” He glanced over his shoulder to steer them. His cloak gaped, revealing the front of his shirt already plastered to his chest by the rain.
“It’s only—I’m not her, Sebastian.”
He whipped his gaze around, fastening on her. He opened his mouth, but the boat ran aground, jerking her forward. Wind sent the rain slipping inside her hood, trailing down her cheeks and inside the collar of her dress. Sebastian climbed out, pulling the boat farther onto the shore, then waded into the water. Leah stood and held out her hands, but he picked her up by her waist and then cradled her, one arm behind her back and the other beneath her thighs as he carried her to dry land. As soon as he stepped on the soil, she said, “Put me down.”
This time, he didn’t refuse, but held on to her wrist when she would have pulled away. “I know you’re not Angela,” he shouted above the wind.
She shook her head. “From the beginning, you’ve compared me to her. I didn’t smell like her, I didn’t act like her.”
He pulled her closer, not seeming to notice her resistance. “I apologized—”
“Yes, you did. But can’t you see? You loved her. Ian loved her. She was everything I’m not.” He tried to tug her to his chest, to wrap his cloak around her, but she wrenched free, her hood falling open. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be the wife that you need.”
She turned and ran, slipping in the sand now turned to mud.
“I don’t care that you’re not Angela,” he called from behind her. “I’m glad you’re not her!”
Now tears were pouring down her face, mixing with the rain as she struggled forward. “It doesn’t matter! She’ll always be there, between us. Just as she was there with Ian. You might not think it now, but you’ll realize it soon. You’ll wake up and miss her, wish that it was her with you instead of me. You’ll—”
A hand caught her shoulder, twisting her around. Leah cried out as she lost her balance, but Sebastian caught her. Steadied her.
“Goddamn it, woman!” he shouted above the wind and rain. “Listen to me! It will always be you.” Thunder roared again. His hands shifted from her waist to her shoulders. “You, Leah!” From her shoulders to her neck, cradling her head between his palms. “You!”
He kissed her. Hard. Leah dug her nails into his wrists to hold on against the onslaught of his mouth. He was savage, ruthless. Gone was the gentleman who’d pleasured her so thoroughly; gone was the understanding husband who’d held her all night in his arms. He demanded, and she gave; he pushed against the seam of her lips, and she opened, welcoming him. He was like a wave assaulting her senses, sweeping her under, away with the tide.
Leah couldn’t think. The rain slicked her hair to her head, forcing her to close her eyes and simply feel. The warmth of his hands holding her head steady for his plunder, the heat of his body as she stepped forward and burrowed into him, unable to get close enough. The bruising of her mouth as he bit her lips, the tender give of his flesh as she bit his.
She tugged at his cloak, his shirt, great soaking handfuls of cloth that fought her attempts to strip them away. Her fingers fumbled at his waist, and he moaned against her mouth. She gave up, and stroked him through his trousers, molding her palm against the hot, rigid length of him.
His hands fell from her neck, but his mouth stayed. He continued kissing her, his tongue warring with hers as he touched her breasts, her stomach, tugged up her sodden skirts to her knees, then her thighs.
Leah broke their kiss, gasping. “Sebastian.” He captured her mouth again as his finger filled her, and she sank onto the pleasure. He went with her until they were kneeling on the ground, streams of water running past. She lay down, tugging him with her, bucking her hips as he inserted two fingers, then withdrew. Again and again. She tossed her head and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him toward her, over her. She succeeded in loosening his trousers and filled her hand with his cock, hot and heavy in her grip. He broke away from t
heir kiss, his fingers halting their slick slide inside her.
Leah opened her eyes. He was above, staring down at her, water dripping from his face. Looking into his gaze, Leah shoved his arm away and spread her legs, offering herself to him. Not a soulless offering to a man who didn’t want her, but a willing sacrifice to a man who did. She lifted her hips even as she felt hot tears escape from the corners of her eyes. “I love you, too,” she said, then sealed her mouth to his.
He didn’t move. Not until she repeated it against his lips, and urged him against her, and then he was filling her, stretching her, pushing her, heavy and fast. Her hands moved frantically over his back, his head, down to his waist. She clawed at his trousers, urging him to go faster.
He ran his mouth down her neck, burying his head at her throat, and she tipped her head back, caught in the rush of ecstasy as her hips rose again and again to meet his thrusts. She saw the lightning flash across the sky, felt him lift his chest away from her. She tried to pull him back, but he pushed his hand between them, stroking, stroking at her flesh. Leah cried out, wrapping her legs tightly around him, and her scream was quickly followed by his own cry as he found his release, his hands gripping her waist with his final thrust.
She held him, sheltering his head against her neck, her hand keeping the rain away from his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she let the air fill her lungs, let it push her closer toward him until there was no question that they were one, the rapid beating of his heart matching hers.
Sebastian lifted his head and looked down at her. Suddenly shy, Leah tried to glance away, but he cupped her cheek and directed her gaze back to his. Then he smiled, the most breathtaking, devastating crook of a smile that she’d ever seen.
Lightning seared the black sky, turning the entire world white. The roar of thunder soon followed. And he kissed her again.
Chapter 23
How I wish that he were yours, that I had met you first . . .
Leah sat on the floor in Sebastian’s bedchamber, toweling her hair dry before the fire. She heard the soft thuds of his footsteps as he walked toward her. He sat behind her, his legs stretching out on either side of hers, and tugged the towel from her hands.
He eased her back against his chest, then wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head as they watched the fire burn and let the heat soak into their skin.
Leah relaxed gradually, allowing his strength and warmth to comfort her. Each muscle loosened, from her calves to her shoulders, until she lay against him, boneless. Trusting.
He shifted, trailing the ends of her hair through his fingers. He spoke into her ear, his breath stirring the tension of awareness back into her body. “This is what I’ve wanted for so long,” he murmured. “Just to hold you. To have you trust me.”
Leah tilted her head back until she could meet his eyes, lifted her palm to his jaw. “But I did. It was myself I didn’t trust.”
A glimmer of humor shone in his eyes, and stubble scraped the flesh of her palm as he smiled. “You mean to say that I was too much for you to resist? Is being irresistible another one of my flaws?”
“Yes.” Her own mouth curved, and she twisted until she knelt in the circle of his arms, locking her arms around his neck. “I knew you wouldn’t allow me to do as I wanted, to stay locked away inside myself. I was afraid to touch you, afraid if I gave you any control, there would be nothing left of me.”
His smile faded, his hands gentle, almost tentative as he bracketed her ribs. “And now?”
She sifted her hand through his hair, traced her finger over his forehead, across his brow, down his nose. She parted his mouth with her thumb, and when he sucked on it, biting down softly with his teeth, it wasn’t fear that made her pulse race and the rush of blood pound in her ears. “I’m touching you now,” she whispered, “and I have never felt more powerful.” She leaned forward, brushing her mouth across his cheek, teasing the soft flesh of his earlobe with her lips and teeth. “You give me strength.”
His hands fell away and he leaned back, bracing himself against the floor. “Tell me what I should do, Leah.”
She ran her gaze down his chest, pausing at the skin visible above the edge of his dressing gown. She continued further, past the breadth of his ribs, the flatness of his stomach, the jut of his arousal. Lowering her hands, she knelt back and placed her palms on his ankles, then leisurely swept them up his calves, savoring the crisp texture of his dark hair against her flesh, the warmth of his skin against hers. “Let me give you pleasure,” she said. Pausing, she reached up to her own dressing gown and drew it off her shoulders, baring her breasts. His eyes darkened, his chest rising sharply. “For now,” she added.
Her fingers perched on his knees, then climbed upward, pressing into his flesh, her thumbs skimming the insides of his thighs.
He growled a curse as his hips jerked beneath her touch. Leah smiled and untied the belt of his robe. When he tried to lean forward and nuzzle at her neck, she indulged him, but only for a moment while she pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders. She didn’t know which pleased her more: knowing that Sebastian was now fully naked before her, or the wondrously wicked things he was doing with his lips and tongue at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Probably both.
She couldn’t resist; she balanced herself against his shoulders as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, into the valley between her breasts.
“This is not me pleasuring you,” she said.
“No?” His lips brushed across the swells of her breasts. “Then I fear I must beg for your forgiveness, for this is what pleases me.”
The control which she’d sought for so long unraveled completely; it was impossible not to give to him, impossible not to take pleasure from his caresses. Selfish and selfless, both strong and vulnerable—there was no room for control when she was in Sebastian’s arms, simply the understanding that she was his and he was hers. There was no loneliness here.
Leah sighed as Sebastian leaned forward to cup her buttocks, moaned as he bent his head to draw her nipple into his mouth—the sounds of her own pleasure almost as arousing as the hot, supple texture of his tongue. She rocked forward, teasing both of them as she pushed against his cock.
“You told me your fantasies, Sebastian,” she murmured, then broke off into a mewling approval as one of the hands cupping her buttocks moved, a long finger inserting itself into her from behind. She arched back, lengthening his stroke, then slid forward again. Sebastian’s mouth turned rough, biting her nipple before soothing it with the flat of his tongue. “However”—she panted around a particularly exquisite thrust of his finger—“I . . . I never had a chance to tell you mine.”
Cool air streamed over her breast as he blew onto her skin, making her ache for the warmth of his mouth again. “Anything, my love.”
“After the house party, when you returned to London and proposed, do you remember that carriage ride we took around the park when I agreed to marry you?”
“Of course.”
Using one hand on his shoulder for balance, Leah slid the other down his chest. She reached between their bodies and folded her fingers around him. Sebastian closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. “I might not have wanted to desire you then, but I did. And I thought about this.”
Holding him tight, she stroked up and down, fascinated by the play of passion across his expression, the way he seemed to be trying to steady his breath by inhaling and then exhaling slowly.
“Let me tell you my fantasy,” she whispered in his ear.
Sebastian groaned at the firm grip of her hand around him. He turned his head, seeking her mouth, only to have her press a quick, hot kiss to his lips.
“In my fantasy,” she said, her voice that of a temptress, “I imagined lifting up my skirts there on the seat beside you in the carriage.” Her thumb slipped over the tip of his staff.
Sebastian arched into her hand. “Leah.”
“I imagined you kneeling before me as I wrapped my legs over y
our shoulders. And you kissed me . . .” She sighed, her face flushed by her own desires, and Sebastian had never seen anything so arousing. “You kissed me down there.”
Sebastian altered the tempo of his finger, slowing down, circling her clit until he barely touched her. She gave a little cry of despair, and he rewarded her by sinking back into her fully, thrusting hard and deep.
She released him and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back until he was no longer sitting, but lying against the rug. “What happened then?” he asked, then gritted his teeth as she moved over him, straddling his waist, positioning him at her entrance.
She bent down and kissed him, teasing him with the slow, seductive pressure of her lips and tongue. “Then, before I could come, you moved up from the floor of the carriage, brought my legs to your waist—”
She captured his gaze as she gripped him again, her eyes half-lidded and hot. Then she sank down, impaling herself on his cock. Only the greatest amount of self-restraint kept Sebastian from coming at that very moment. She was so tight and wet.
“—and then you fucked me.”
She bit her lip and lowered her gaze, almost as if she were uncertain of saying the word. But he wouldn’t let her be ashamed—not here, not with him. Holding her hands, he urged her to use him for balance as he lifted his hips, pushing more deeply inside, experimenting with a rhythm until he found one she seemed to like—a hard, steady pace that had her parting her lips and throwing her head back with abandon. Her breasts bobbed up and down, the hardened tips of her nipples teasing him, causing his body to tighten even further. The pleasure built almost to an unbearable crescendo. Sebastian released her hands and gripped her waist, his anchor as he sent them both spiraling closer to ecstasy.
He groaned when her muscles clenched around him. His fingers dug into her skin. “Did you like it when I fucked you, Leah?”
She opened her eyes and stared down at him. A slow, pleased smile pulled at her lips. “God, yes.”