She cast him a mutinous look. “What makes you think you can stop it? And you know how all the rakes will act once they learn for certain that I’d been a very naughty girl. Witness how
you
behaved after you learned about the kidnapping. You felt free to kiss me and touch me—”
“That had nothing to do with it. I kissed you because I wanted you. I would have kissed you if I’d met you under perfectly proper circumstances.” That she could lump him in with those scoundrels in London infuriated him. He didn’t know which was worse—her thinking him an inept imbecile, or a heartless seducer.
Especially when he’d already proved she didn’t mind his attentions, no matter what he was. “It’s not as if I was alone in all that kissing and touching, either,” he snapped. “You know very well that you welcomed it.”
With a haughty little sniff, she turned her head. “That’s absurd.”
Anger boiled up through him. After yesterday, that she could still pretend—“I didn’t imagine it, Juliet, so don’t think you can return to telling me how ‘adequate’ my kisses are. I remember your eager mouth. I remember your soft sighs of pleasure. That isn’t how a bored or offended woman behaves. Have you forgotten kissing me back? Sliding your hands inside my coat? You can no longer deny that you want me. Yesterday I
proved
that you do.”
“You proved nothing.” She moved away from the door. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.” He caught her arm when she tried to pass him. “Your actions spoke well enough.”
“I was merely…caught up in the moment,” she whis
pered, though she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “But if you think that means anything—”
“Blast it all, it means everything, and you know it. It means you care for me. I dare you to look me in the eye and deny it.”
Juliet knew she was on shaky ground already, but it got shakier when she made the mistake of doing as he demanded. Goodness gracious, but the man could rock the very floor beneath her feet with just a look. Such a magnetic gaze, such a brooding stare…It made her want to throw herself into his arms. Or run. He’d eyed her like that yesterday in the drawing room—as a starving sea serpent eyes the virgin tied to the rocks just before he strikes and devours.
His all-consuming need scrambled her already quite muddled thoughts, and that was the last thing she could afford in this secret winter Eden.
Without answering, she jerked her arm free and hurried down the three marble steps into the conservatory’s center. Looking for a door to the outside, she strode along the circular path around a huge marble pedestal upon which reigned an impressive potted begonia.
It was no use. She felt him stalking her, felt his lambent heat behind her in the musky damp of the room. “You can’t deny it, can you?” he rasped. “You may not like being attracted to the brother of your kidnapper, but you are.”
She gritted her teeth against the urge to protest that he and her “kidnapper” were one and the same. She refused to confront him until she had him inescapably trapped. “It’s not an attraction. You’ve merely misunderstood—”
“That you want me? Have I?” Without warning, he slipped his arm about her waist and dragged her back against his rock-hard flesh. “So you don’t want me to hold you like this?” he murmured against her hair. “You find it disgusting?”
Dear me, if only she did. “Sebastian, don’t—”
“Hold you? Kiss you? Want you, too?” He nuzzled her upswept hair, then pressed a delicious kiss to her bared neck. “Why not?”
She couldn’t speak or think or…or anything. Not when his lips were dancing kisses over her skin, awakening it to a world of sensual possibilities.
“Tell me you want me to leave you alone,” he prodded. “Say it, and I will. I swear I’ll never touch you again if you say the words.”
Such a small request for him. Such a huge request for her. Because the longer he held her, the more addicted she grew to his embrace. To the firm, masculine feel of his unyielding upper torso imprinted on her back and derriere. To the warmth of his body curling around hers. His hold immobilized one of her arms, yet he exerted very little force. She believed he really would release her if she asked.
She didn’t ask.
“Is that what you want—for me not to touch you?” He brushed his parted lips over her ear, and a luscious shiver swept her skin. “I’ll make it easy for you.” He lifted his gloved hand scant inches to place it squarely—scandalously—upon her breast. “This, sweeting, is an ‘improper advance.’ Feel free to chide me for it.”
She opened her mouth to do that very thing. Then he began rubbing in exquisitely slow, tempting circles, and she couldn’t form any word or thought that didn’t involve him continuing that intriguing motion.
“You like that, don’t you?” There was triumph in the words whispered hot against her ear. “You like having my hands on you. Say it.”
“I-I can’t…” Because then he’d win. She couldn’t stand letting the wretched liar win.
Yet she also couldn’t wait to see what outrageous thing he’d do next, what naughty touches he’d use to sway her. Why
not
see? At least then she’d
know.
She’d get to taste
the forbidden fruit he’d dangled in front of her two years ago, then snatched away. After that, she’d have a perfectly good reason to slap him and thrust him away. And she would. Afterward.
As if he read her very thoughts, he stripped off his gloves, then slid both bare hands over her clothed breasts to engage in the most daring caresses. His palms fondled her artfully, his fingers squeezed and thumbed and stroked through the muslin until she wanted to die from the thrill.
He made her want things, unbelievable, wicked things…He made her ache to tear her clothes off to feel those expert hands on her naked skin. On her nipples, yes, and her belly and…
My oh my oh my. She ought to stop him. Really. Now…
“You like having me touch you, my naughty angel. Admit it.”
“Sebastian…” she whispered, trying for a protest, but managing only a demand.
He chuckled. “I know why you can’t admit it in words. Why you’ve been toying with me all this time, refusing to admit you want me.”
She froze. Had he guessed what she’d been trying to do? “Wh-why?”
“Because of what my foolish brother did to you by gaining your affections and then abandoning you.” He nibbled her earlobe. “But I won’t abandon you like Morgan. If he’d had an ounce of sense, he wouldn’t have either. He’d have ridden off with you when he had the chance and carried you straight to Gretna Green. He was a fool not to.”
His words trickled into her consciousness, rending the sensual haze of his caresses. Drat him for saying such things now, when it was too late! How dared he maintain the pretense, thinking he could make it all right with a few kisses and sweet words?
She wriggled out of his too tempting arms and turned to face him, eyes blazing. “Yes, ‘Morgan’ was a fool. You’re right about that. And it cost him his chance with me.”
The sheer force of his will glimmered in his midnight black eyes. “But it won’t cost me
my
chance.” He reached for her. “I won’t allow it.”
“A pox on you, Sebastian—”
He stopped her with a raw, needy kiss, his hands gripping her arms to hold her still. Angry resentment pounded through her, but though she fisted her hands against his chest and tried to shove him away, he didn’t let go. He just kept his clever mouth on hers, wearing down her resistance, twisting her fury into something more fiery, more dangerous. By the time he backed her against the marble pedestal and deepened the kiss, she’d completely forgotten why she shouldn’t let him.
So of course, the devil took full advantage. With a groan, he drove his tongue into her mouth, demanding a response. And he got one, too. She clung to his lapels like a woman drowning in treacherous waters. The marble edge of the pedestal dug into her back, yet all she felt was his hungry mouth feeding on hers.
When he had her weak-kneed and limp, he drew back. Watery sunlight filtered down from the glass ceiling to light his yearning expression. Tugging loose the fichu tucked into her bodice, he tossed it beyond her reach when she made a grab for it. “Admit that you want me, sweeting. Or you’ll force me to take extreme measures.”
A thrill coursed through her. “Like what?”
His eyes darkened. “Like this.” He skimmed his knuckles lightly over the swells of her breasts, then had the audacity to dip one finger beneath the bodice to graze her nipple, back and forth until it grew tight and hard.
“Stop that!”
“Not until you confess. You have two choices—tell me
you despise me or admit that you want me. Either choice will gain you your freedom. Otherwise…”
“O-otherwise?” she stammered, intrigued despite her better judgment.
“More extreme measures, of course.” Flashing her a dark smile, he reached behind her to remove the potted begonia from the wide marble pedestal. Like an idiot, she just gaped at him as he set it on the floor. Then with no more warning than that, he straightened and lifted her onto the marble.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, taken by surprise. There was probably dirt on top of this thing, and bugs and—
He pressed into the gap he’d created between her legs, opening them so he could lean into her and pin her skirts to the marble. Within seconds, he had her trapped. “I’m putting you on a pedestal, Aphrodite. Where every goddess belongs.”
“I am
not
a goddess, drat it!” She shoved at his chest, but it was as unyielding as it was infernally broad. “If I were, I’d already have had my minions banish you to the underworld, where
you
belong!”
With an outrageous grin, he reached behind her to unclasp her gown’s top button. “You can’t. I’m Hephaestus, remember? Goddesses can’t banish gods to the underworld.”
“Sebastian, desist at once!” she protested, grabbing hold of his arms. But among the many traits he had in common with that blasted smithy god was strength and nimble fingers. She felt her gown give way a little even as she pushed at his too brawny arms.
He paused in unbuttoning her gown to smile roguishly. “Tell me you want me.”
She tipped up her chin. “No.” Because if she did, he’d most certainly press his advantage. Besides, he was only
bluffing. At heart, Sebastian was a gentleman. He wouldn’t actually do anything truly wicked to her, would he?
Another button came loose.
Perhaps he would, after all.
“Come now, sweeting,” he prodded. “It’s just four words. ‘I want you, Sebastian.’ Very simple. And you know it’s true.”
“It is not!” she protested.
“Stubborn minx.” He slid her gown off her shoulders.
This called for different tactics. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible twin, the one who restored Charnwood on his own, the one who looks after old women and rascal brothers—”
His mouth closed over hers, wild and angry now. He kissed her until her head reeled, and when he drew back, she gazed at him through slumberous eyes. It took several moments for her to clear the cobwebs from her brain, but when she did, it was to find him untying her chemise.
His fierce gaze swept her face. “I’m tired of being the responsible twin. What has it gained me? A monk’s life in a mansion full of servants who fear me. And the one woman I desire won’t admit she desires me unless I prove as much a rascal as Morgan. Very well, if it’s the reckless adventurer you want, then by thunder, you’ll have him.”
Suddenly, he pulled the edge of her gown and chemise down enough for one breast to spring free, then bent to flick his tongue over her nipple.
She gaped at him in pure disbelief. “That is not…proper,” she choked out.
He chuckled. “No. And neither is this.” Then his mouth closed around her breast.
“Oh…my…word…” she whispered as he began to suck and tease and do the most amazing things to her nipple with his tongue. “Goodness gracious…you shouldn’t…you mustn’t…have you lost your mind?”
He tore his mouth free long enough to grin up at her.
“Absolutely. I’m operating purely on instinct now. You should try it.”
She didn’t
dare,
not when instinct produced such tempting sensations. She gathered breath to protest, but it was too late. His mouth had returned to caressing her naked breast in the most delightful fashion.
Hardly daring to move, she stared down at the unreal image of his head at her breast. All her half protests died in her throat. He looked so very blissful with his eyes closed as he sucked and tongued her flesh. How intimate this was, as intimate as she’d wanted him to be two years ago. And much more exciting than she’d imagined in her vague and formless dreams.
While she watched in utter fascination, he slid his hand inside her chemise to free her other breast, then fondled it shamelessly, rolling the nipple gently between his fingers as his teeth tugged at the other. A thrill of expectation coursed right down to her belly, startling an ache between her legs.
He straightened to stare at her, his free hand taking over for his mouth on her breast. “Morgan may have been the reckless one, but I’ll wager he never did this, never touched you like this.”
“You know he didn’t,” she breathed.
“He was a fool. To have a goddess in his hands and throw her away…an utter fool.”
She tried to summon up her earlier anger at him, but the regret in his words was so palpable, so genuine that she couldn’t.
“I’ll make you forget what happened back then, sweeting,” he whispered. “I’ll make you admit that it’s me you want.
Me,
Sebastian.”
Poor man. Couldn’t he see that she wanted both? God help her, but she was just that greedy. She wanted the dependable Lord Templemore
and
the reckless Morgan who’d carried her off.
Despite Morgan’s actions. Despite Sebastian’s lies.
“Because God knows I want you,” he added.
Was that all a lie, too? “Why? Why do you want me?”
“Because you’re soft. And sweet.” He bent to skim his open mouth along her jaw. “You make me forget I’m supposed to be responsible and respectable.” One of his hands left her breast to drag her skirt and petticoat up her leg. “Because when there’s nothing but winter all around, with you it’s always spring.” His hand swept her thigh, and she quivered everywhere he touched.