He didn’t mean to tease her, but he suddenly realized how alone they were. An entire ballroom of people was just behind them and God only knew who had trickled out into the garden, but right now, it was just he and Louisa on the terrace, and he realized with a start he was enjoying himself.
He loved to watch her fire, reveled in the way her ebullient nature turned into an inferno when sparked. Just as when her little sister’s future was threatened. Just as when his mother had appeared before them.
She’d become a blaze because of him.
It frightened him at the same time it sparked a fire low in his belly. God, he wanted her. All of her. The line between physical and emotional disappeared, and he teetered on a dangerous precipice.
Her frown was swift. “A lady is not beastly. She is determined.”
“Couldn’t the same be said of my mother?”
“Your mother is a—” Her words stalled as if striking an impasse, but he leaned forward, anticipating her finish.
“Say what you wish, my lady. It’s not as if stopping now will right anything.”
“Was she like that when you were a child?”
It was not what he’d expected her to say, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he considered her.
“Fortunately, she was absent a great deal of my childhood. She preferred country parties to spending time with her family. I hardly saw her more than a handful of times a year.”
His response did not seem to satisfy her as she worried her lower lip. He felt a tightening in his gut at the gesture, and he wanted to soothe her lip with his kiss. He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and turned away.
He had to find a solution to this. He could not let himself give in. He knew he would lose all control if he did.
He turned back, and horribly, he found her just as enticing as before.
“Do you have any other prying questions about my family?” His tone was harsh, fueled by the war he fought inside himself.
He watched as her features folded, her eyes narrowing with hurt, and he hated it. Hated himself for causing it and even more, for being so selfish as to seek his own peace at the cost of her happiness.
Perhaps when they were safely wed, he could bundle her off to a country estate, never need lay eyes on her again.
It would kill him more surely than his unending lust for her.
She was in front of him before he realized she had even moved.
“I know I trapped you into this marriage, and I understand now why you are so hard. But would it be so difficult for you to treat me with a measure of decency?”
At her words, the fire that had kindled inside of him roared in defiance.
She smelled like almonds. The scent was pure and innocent and enveloped him in a quiet fog of his own desire. For as his brain connected with the scent, it conjured up an image of her tending to her toilette, almond oil in hand as she pressed it to her naked body.
He hardened just standing there in the cold air of the terrace in the middle of their betrothal ball arguing with an intended he never meant to have, and he wanted to hate her for it, but instead, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.
“I find decency to be tedious.”
He enjoyed the flash of annoyance in her eyes, and it only served to stoke the fires within him. He should not be encouraging this. If he had any shred of sense, he would end this conversation and return to the ballroom where all of London would be witness to their actions, holding him in check.
“You’re insufferable.” She was very close now, so close he could see the sparks of gold in her irises.
“You’re beautiful.”
He hadn’t meant to say the words, and he wasn’t sure whom they startled more. Her lips froze on another accusation as she stared up at him, and he flexed his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her.
“Did you just tell me that I’m beautiful?”
He nodded. “I did.” Whether or not he liked this line of conversation, he was not a liar, and right then, she was stunning.
“You’re still insufferable.” She said the words like a shield, as if they held the power to deter him.
“You’re still beautiful.”
She chewed her lower lip, but he could only stare into her eyes. They’d gone dark with passion, and even in the dimness, he could see her warring with a decision.
“I can’t love you,” she whispered just before she pulled his head down, and her lips slammed into his.
Chapter 4
She had expected an explosion, heat and fire, and passion.
But as Louisa was coming to learn with Sebastian, nothing was quite as she expected it.
Because instead of a fiery, passionate kiss like they’d shared in the Lumberton drawing room, this one was something else entirely.
He cupped her head in his hands, one at the back of her head, the other along the side her neck, so he cradled her, and the kiss was like something priceless. His lips were firm yet soft, his touch gentle yet exact. Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket as she yearned for more.
She wanted his arms around her but instead he traced a hand down her arm, trailing his fingers ever so briefly over the exposed skin between the sleeve of her gown and her glove so that her body sang in response, pulsing toward him. Soon that hand found the small of her back, pulling her just the smallest of degrees closer to him. Her heart raced when she realized how perfectly they fit together, and a sense of inevitability washed over her.
His lips left hers, and she whimpered, the sound plaintive and childish, but she didn’t care. He soothed her with small kisses along the line of her jaw.
When his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, she bucked against him, her hands going to his shoulders as if to hold on, for surely she was falling. That was the incredible sensation that swarmed her then, cascading through her body as she let her head fall back to give him better access.
The press of stone against her back alerted her to the fact that he had moved them back into the shadows along the house. No one could see them now unless they searched carefully. The intimacy of the moment, knowing they could be caught at any instant, the sounds of conversation, music, and laughter from the ballroom behind her, all combined into a heady mix of anticipation and daring.
Louisa did not do things like this. She was always so careful. She was always so sure. She always put others’ happiness first, so she didn’t know what happiness could be waiting out there for her.
For surely this was it. This was what it felt like to have someone’s attention wholly on you. And it was glorious.
One hand came around her back to shield her from the rough planes of the stone while the other explored freely, cupping her hips, her waist, his long fingers trailing over every dip and curve.
Unexpectedly, she realized she wanted more. Parts of her burned for his touch, wondered what it would feel like to have his lips where his hands were. She didn’t know how to tell him. All she could do was show him.
She arched against him, pressing her body into his, and the moan that escaped her lips was unplanned and guttural, so base it almost frightened her.
But he seemed to understand.
His lips captured hers as his hand finally cupped her breast. She jerked against the touch, her stomach tightening in response. Oh God, what was happening to her? She still wanted more. She pulled at him now, her hands desperate to keep him going.
“Sebastian,” she whispered against his lips.
“Shhh.” He pressed kisses at the corners of her mouth. “We wouldn’t want to be discovered now, would we?” His tone was playful as they had already been discovered.
Only that time hadn’t mattered. Not like now. Not when her body burned for him.
“Sebastian, I want…I don’t know what I want.” How was her voice so breathy? Was that even her who spoke?
“Let me show you what you want.”
His tone had changed, deepened and turned gravelly, and low in her stomach
a fire sparked in response. She became aware of a pulsing between her thighs, deep in her most sacred part, and she wondered again what was happening to her.
But his hands were already moving. The fingers that played at her breast traveled up, slipping her thin sleeve over her shoulder. Her bodice shifted, giving him room to plunge one hand inside.
Her eyes flew open, but the darkness was nearly complete where he had tucked them against the house. Only a sliver of moon broke through, and it illuminated the white of his hand where it touched her, stroked her, freed her from the confines of her gown.
He’d removed his glove.
When his callused skin touched her breast, she shivered, her knees weakening until only his arms held her up. The pulse in her belly grew until it tortured her.
“Please,” she moaned.
She couldn’t hold on to him any longer. Her fingers clutched at his jacket, but the strength escaped her with every one of his touches.
That was when he dipped his head. She watched fascinated as he brought his lips to her bare shoulder, lower along her collar bone, down to—
She bucked as his lips closed over her exposed nipple, pleasurable pain shooting through her.
“Oh God, Sebastian.” The words were hardly decipherable, her head thrown back against the stone.
He didn’t stop. He sucked and licked, pleasuring her until she almost couldn’t bear it.
“Sebastian, I need—” But still, she didn’t know what she needed.
Vaguely, she became aware of her skirts moving against her legs and soon cold night air rushed up her legs, washing over her with much needed relief. But not for long. His hand was at her thigh, exploring the ribbons of her garter, teasing her bare flesh with the briefest of touches.
“Sebastian, what—”
But he stopped her with a kiss so ardent, she clutched at his shoulders to keep herself steady. His fingers, though, kept exploring, moving higher until they pressed into that part of her that ached the most.
“Ah, God, Louisa,” he moaned against her mouth.
She let her body relax, the harsh plane of the stone at her back and Sebastian’s hard body to her front wrapping her in a blissful cocoon that contained only the two of them. The rest of the world fell away. Her worries for her sister, her long-held guilt, her remorse at what she’d done—it just disappeared. Here there was only taste and touch and…pleasure.
His fingers moved, parting her folds so he could explore further. She’d only ever touched herself down there in her bath, and she couldn’t imagine where it was he sought to go, but with each stroke of his fingers, her muscles convulsed involuntarily in anticipation.
Finally, a single finger stroked her, and her body sparked. She came up off the stone, her body arching into his.
“Sebastian.” She spoke his name with troubled passion, and he captured her lips in a kiss.
“Shhh, my sweet. You don’t want to be caught now. Not before I’ve pleasured you.”
His words, so raspy and mysterious, burned their way through her like his touch never could. Just the sound of his voice had her aching, and she pressed into his hand, urging him to continue.
His laugh was soft against her ear.
“Do you like that, Louisa?”
She could only nod, her body wound so tightly, she knew she could endure only so much more.
“Tell me.”
His fingers stopped in their exploration, and her body hung suspended on the brink of something no longer coming.
She opened her eyes, captured his gaze. In the moonlight, she could see only so much, but his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, shone through the darkness. He didn’t smile. He didn’t smirk at the power he held over her. His jaw was tight, his expression earnest.
He really wanted her to tell him she enjoyed it. Somehow it mattered to him.
She laid a single hand against his cheek, the scrape of his beard rough against her palm.
“I love it when you touch me,” she whispered.
And as if her words were an incantation, his fingers stroked against her, his head coming down to capture her in the passionate kiss she had expected earlier but which he’d withheld, knowing instead how he’d tease her into a greater frenzy of want.
His fingers were wicked against her, flicking over the small nub she had discovered once that she knew gave her great pleasure. Back and forth he rubbed it until the fire in her belly grew to be too much. He never relented, only shifted to slip a single finger inside of her. She bucked at the intrusion, at the sudden wave of ecstasy that crashed over her.
“Sebastian.” This. This was what she had wanted. She hadn’t known, but he had, and he gave it to her now.
Her hips moved of their own volition, her mound rubbing against his palm as he continued to stroke. Her pleasure grew focused, pointed, and she knew something had to happen.
And then it did.
The wave broke over her in a kaleidoscope of sounds and colors and sensations, her whole body seized with a pleasure so great she knew it could suffocate her. But she rode it, rode through wave after wave of beautiful color until there was only the sound of her ragged breathing, the pounding of her heart in her ears.
Sebastian still held her, his fingers stilled against her mound as if they contained the pleasure he had just given her. Her body vibrated, exhausted and yet charged. Sebastian’s lips pressed against her temple, and his arm secured her to his body as he slipped his hand away from her, cold air replacing his warm touch.
Her eyes fluttered open as he stepped back, gently releasing her so her skirts fell back into place around her. With a sure hand, he slipped the sleeve of her gown back onto her shoulder, her bodice finding its way around her as if she hadn’t just been ravished at all.
She didn’t know how long they stood there, each watching the other so carefully as if one of them might shatter into a thousand pieces at a single whispered word.
Something had changed. Something fundamental about who they were to each other. They were no longer acquaintances, but they were not yet lovers. There was a reluctance she could feel pulse between them as if each could not figure out the other. Confusion separated them as surely as a closed door would have.
“Sebastian—”
She stopped as he moved, but it was only to draw the single glove he had removed from his pocket. He slipped it on with the coolness of certainty, so very like him and yet not quite himself.
He had stepped back enough that the moon illuminated his face now, and she found it softer, the hard expression he usually wore somehow absent. There was a humanness to him, and she gasped almost imperceptibly as she realized she was likely the only person to ever see him like this.
Finally, her eyes met his, and in them, she saw that unfathomable darkness, and once again, she thought of all the secrets he must carry with him. But now, having met the woman who had given birth to him, his secrets didn’t seem quite so mysterious. They just seemed human.
“Sebastian—” She stepped away from the wall, standing once more on her own two feet, a single hand raised as if to touch him.
But he stepped back and now the golden light of the ballroom struck him full in the face.
His eyes were flat, his jaw firm.
The Beastly Duke stood before her now, and a coldness replaced the pleasure that still simmered within her as if it never existed.
“We should return to the ball.” His words were clipped, and he didn’t wait for her response. He merely turned and strode back into the ballroom, swallowed up by the crowd that lingered within its walls.
She didn’t know how long she stood in the darkness alone, but it was long enough for her to understand what she’d seen in his eyes.
Fear.
The Beastly Duke was afraid of something.
* * *
The only thing keeping him from getting outstandingly drunk was the memory of his father’s dead body sprawled at his feet.
As imagined, it was an upsetting enough im
age to keep his behavior in check, if not his emotions.
He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt as he awaited the arrival of his bride in the small room at the front of the church. It wasn’t exactly appealing, the idea of being married in a church, but as Louisa had already had very little say in her wedding, he gave her that one small thing. Although he had a suspicion it wasn’t even what she wished as a church wedding had all the connotations of the Duchess of Margate. He was beginning to learn that Louisa made very few decisions based on her own pleasure.
She was marrying him after all, wasn’t she?
He wanted to pummel that stupid Devlin boy. Did he have no idea how his actions had ruined a young girl’s life? He needn’t have finished what he’d begun. The whisper of it alone was enough to ruin everything for her. Why Sebastian felt the need to right that wrong was preposterous. He should have left as soon as he’d taken care of the matter and left Louisa to her fate.
Even as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t do it. Not to Louisa. Anyone else maybe…
He scrubbed a hand over his face, turning to the wall of the small room so no one would see the gesture. His body still ached from their encounter at their betrothal ball. It was a stark example of the very thing he had tried so hard to avoid.
His emotions had overcome him, and he’d taken advantage of her. He knew she had been upset by meeting his mother, and he’d goaded her anger until she had erupted. It was entirely his fault. He was doomed to repeat the mistakes of his father no matter how he tried to stop it from happening.
There was no other thing for it. He must remain apart from his wife. He couldn’t trust himself. Emotions made people do stupid things, and love was the most dangerous of all emotions. Hadn’t he proven that night he couldn’t separate the physical from the emotional? It was his heightened emotional state that had driven him to what he’d done.
But God, the way she fit in his arms was like coming home.
He drew a deep breath and turned swiftly, nearly knocking Dax into the wall as he did so. Sebastian had been so caught up in his own torment he hadn’t heard the man approach. Now he stared guiltily, and a small knowing smile appeared on Dax’s face.
The Duke and the Lady Page 5