Dance with Deception: Scandalous Secrets, Book 1 - Exclusive Edition (Scandalous Secrets - Exclusive Edition) (11 page)

Sebastian cradled her face in his palms, tracing the outline of her lips with his dexterous thumb.

“Kiss me, Gwendolyn,” he said, emphasizing the word “me.”

Tentative, Gwen inched her fingers toward the nape of his neck as she leaned into him, meeting his lips with her own. She then began tracing his lips with her tongue, just as he had done to her lower lip.

He groaned a low guttural sound before crushing her to him and capturing her mouth with his own. Gwen’s hands trailed down over his broad shoulders as her body molded to his. She had long lost her inner battle with her conscience. The sensations he ignited within her made her forget so very quickly.

Sebastian withdrew from her lips then reached up and unpinned her hat. He shook her thick tresses free of their tight chignon and his heart skipped a beat as her soft mahogany curls cascaded over his hands. He’d yearned to do so since seeing her across a crowded ballroom just weeks before.

He sought her hooded gaze. It gave him
permission to kiss her once more. He then eased his lips over hers and teased her with his tongue, lingering at her lips before tracing a fiery path to her temples then to her eyelids. Savoring every moment, he eased back to her lips to taste her.

Would she allow him to deepen his kiss, his exploration of her body? Sebastian took her hands in his and led her down to the lush green grass that blanketed the earth. He struggled to control his passion for her but his arousal became greater as did his need to possess her … body and soul.

His nimble fingers unbuttoned her jacket then untied her chemise. Once open, his hands worked with dexterity to lift her breasts above her corset. When, at last, he felt her soft flesh against his palms, it was as if his hands were being seared.

The catch in her throat told him she felt the magnitude of the event.

She belonged to him now.

Sebastian caressed her milky-white breasts while further exploring her mouth. She tasted sweet and her smooth flesh put silk to shame. He gloried when her nipples responded to his touch, pointing higher, and seeking further attention. His arousal hardened at the thought of his exploring them with his mouth.

He tore his lips from hers and Gwen moaned her disappointment until he traced a path of fiery kisses to her breasts. She stiffened. With his mouth barely inches from them, Gwen took a sharp intake of breath. Her reaction conveyed her innocence.

Sebastian knew he had aroused her inexperienced body. Her skin heated under his
touch, burning with desire.

His loins were in such a state of arousal that it pained him. Dear God, he had to have her, now. His hands slid underneath her skirts, fingers roaming upward towards her thighs in search of her feminine core.

Gwen tensed, her conscience warring with her heart. It was wrong; yet she yearned for him, his touch, so much that she ignored the consequences. Until his fingertips uncovered the sensitive triangle between her legs and her conscience refused to remain silent.

This is wrong!

She clamped her hand over his, halting his exploration. “Please, don’t.” Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.

His chuckle was deep, throaty, as his lips traced a trail of kisses away from her breasts and back to her lips.

The cool air brushed against her bare nipples, dousing what was left of her euphoria. Gwen then hugged her chemise tight against her chest, careful not to meet his gaze. What had she done?

“Don’t become shy now,” he teased, his eyes languorous with desire. He pulled her toward him but Gwen resisted.

“Sebastian, this is wrong.” Her own voice sounded foreign to her. “Please stop.”

He straightened then stared into the depths of her eyes. “This is right and you know it.”

“No, no it isn’t. You’re not my husband.” Gwen clutched her chemise tighter. “You’re not even my betrothed.”

Sebastian studied her with great intensity as she laced her chemise then moved aside as she reached for her jacket and rose.

“Oh, God,” Her voice was fraught with desperation. “I’ve made such a mistake. Oh, my God, what have I done?” Gwen shrugged into her jacket then attempted to button it, her fingers trembling.

Without a word, Sebastian leapt to his feet then straightened his broad shoulders, his heated stare so unsettling that she averted her eyes from his, instead searching the thick grass for her hat and gloves. Why did she have to wear green today? Gwen scooped up her hat but her gloves were nowhere in sight. “How could I have done this to … to …”

God help her. With the maelstrom of emotions she was experiencing, Gwen couldn’t remember her own fiancé’s name!

Clamping his hand on her arm, Sebastian swung Gwen around as his burning gaze held hers. “To whom? To Keir?” he demanded.

She paused for a brief moment. At least Gwen could now remember the man’s name. The sudden thought of her standing at the altar unable to remember Keir’s name caused a rise of panic within her. If she weren’t so vexed at this moment, she’d laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Her eyes surveyed Sebastian’s, noting the unadulterated rage flashing within them. Had it really been mere minutes before that he and his hooded gaze were making love to her?

Shame flooded her at the memory. “Oh, God!”
She tore her gaze away from his and struggled to free herself from his grasp. “I shouldn’t have let this happen. I don’t know how I let this happen.”

“I think a more appropriate question you should be asking yourself is how you can walk away from what we just shared?” His voice was thunderous and she was in too much turmoil to help calm his rage.

Instead, she continued to ramble, “What we just shared was—”

“A mistake, yes, I heard you the first time.” His gaze bore into hers. “Why?”

“I’m marrying Keir,” she whispered.

“You weren’t thinking of your precious Dunlop when you were in my arms.” His grip on her arm tightened as he continued, “Nor were you thinking of him when my lips were devouring every inch of your milky skin.”

“You bastard,” she whispered.

“Can’t you see that Keir no longer exists? You belong to me, not to him … never to Dunlop.”

“My God, what have I done?” Gwen tore her arm away from him and hurried toward her mare, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes.

Sebastian trailed her, step for step. “Would you like me to remind you?” he bit out.

Her ears were ringing. “Remind me?” Had she heard him correctly?

“Yes. I could begin with the passionate kisses we shared. Then I could remind you of the ardor with which you held me close while my tongue—”

“Stop!” She whirled around, gritting her teeth as she retorted, “I’m in no need of such reminders.”

“Are you certain it has come back to you, then? I’d be happy to relive all of it – the sweet taste of your lips, your moans of desire as my tongue explored your supple breasts.”

“Enough!” Gwen swallowed past the hard lump forming in her throat and untied Majesty’s reins from the low branch. “There is no need to continue, Your Grace. I know all too well of my indiscretions. You need not humiliate me any further than you already have.”

“Humiliate you?” For a moment, Sebastian seemed stunned by the accusation. Then he retaliated. “You didn’t act humiliated in my arms when your body molded with mine.”

Gwen felt the heat spread over her cheeks. She wanted to ride home but since she had no way of mounting her mare by herself, she chose to walk with the reins clenched tight within her fists. “How dare you. Have you no shame?”

Sebastian bridged the distance between them, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Shall I help you mount your mare or would you like me to walk you home again?”

Walk her home? To her father?
Hell, no
. Her conscience screamed in protest, ordering Gwen to mount her horse and leave the man with whom she’d just risked her father’s health.

“I won’t walk anywhere with you.” Although somewhat shaky, she was relieved that her words didn’t reveal her intense fear.

Sebastian helped her onto her horse without much chivalry, infuriating her even further. Gwen resisted the strong urge to slap the smug grin off of
his handsome face by clutching her reins so tight that her knuckles turned white.

“Enjoy this moment all you want because it will never happen again, Your Grace,” she retaliated. “You aren’t Keir! Don’t ever forget that I am his intended, not yours.”

Gwen urged Majesty down the hill, away from Sebastian. She sighed in relief, thankful that he didn’t see her tears spill over her lashes. She would never give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply she was affected by this afternoon.

Although she cried, though her heart was about to split in half, she didn’t look back.

She refused to look back.

Sebastian studied her until Gwen was at last out of sight.

Poor Keir
. The man had no idea what he’d lost and Dunlop had indeed lost Gwen on this day.

Passionate and supple in Sebastian’s arms, Gwen was also intelligent, witty, beautiful, and she made his heart ache to be with her. His resolve was stronger than ever. The Duke of Davenport would indeed marry her.

What else could he do to make her realize what he already knew in his heart? She belonged to him. They’d flirted with the notion since the Stocktons’ ball. After what occurred today, there was no turning back.

Sebastian mounted his stallion then nudged the creature’s flanks. As they sped along the rolling green countryside, a different strategy took flight. Yes, a change of course was necessary. He must now negotiate what would surely be the most
important contract of his life. His philosophy, in both business and pleasure, was simple.

He always played for keeps.

Sebastian wanted Gwen. He wouldn’t rest in his pursuit until he had acquired her.

After her latest encounter with Sebastian, Gwen willed time to slow itself or, better yet, stop all together. Time, nevertheless, failed to heed her wish and the evening of the Duke of Davenport’s ball arrived.

As if facing Sebastian wasn’t enough to fill her heart with dread, the thought of spending the evening with Keir was. On this very night, before Sebastian, his sister and most of polite society, Gwen would be forced to pretend that she wanted to marry the Scottish earl, a man she neither loved nor admired.

The very man she reviled.

Gwen doubted her acting ability would be sufficient to convince those in attendance this evening of her willingness. If, on the other hand, she actually managed to appear wholeheartedly committed to the match, Gwen felt certain that she would appear to be the biggest nitwit in all of England for not even Keir’s title could make the
ton
ignore what an unmitigated arse the man really was.

Her life had turned into one big charade. If one were to add incest or murder, it would quite seamlessly become a grand Shakespearean production.

The more Gwen considered it, she was certain her life had become a Greek tragedy. The only act missing in the plot was the death scene, but she thought with sadness, that final act would come
soon enough for her father.

Gwen surveyed her attire in the mirror. Ironically, she resembled a Greek Goddess. Her bronze taffeta gown shimmered and accentuated the cinnamon highlights of her hair, her thick tresses coiled in curls atop her head.

With the material altered above her cleavage, a small glimpse of her creamy flesh was visible to the naked eye. Although not improper, it was the largest amount of flesh she’d ever revealed.

A pink tinge crept across her cheeks as she remembered the amount of flesh she had revealed to Sebastian. Indeed, he had seen much more of her than he should have been allowed.

Having already dismissed her maid, Gwen wrapped her bronze cape around her shoulders then grabbed her gloves and reticule before glancing one last time at her reflection.

“Let’s get this nightmare over with!” she said aloud, her inner voice warning Gwen that her torment was just beginning.

By the time the MacAlistair carriage came to an abrupt halt in front of Kellington Manor, the humiliating ride caused Gwen to clutch her reticule so tight that her hands were sore. Her father and Keir congratulated themselves on a perfect match so often that she felt like a possession – a prize – being passed about.