Authors: Wendy Soliman
“We are only pretending,” she replied, trying for a quelling glance that probably wasn’t very convincing.
“Indeed we are.”
His eyes gleamed with unsettling intelligence as they regarded her with absorbsion. Abbey’s response to the momentary longing she thought she saw in his expression registered somewhere in the most sensitive part of her core. That expression told her there was something he desired. And he was not, Abbey instinctively understood, referring to the pantomime they had agreed to enact.
In a blinding flash she understood he had turned away from her the previous day because his passions had been as aroused as her own. A surge of triumph ripped through her. She felt empowered, ready to conquer the world. That she had managed to attract this elegant sophisticate, albeit temporarily, gave Abbey’s self-confidence a timely boost. She wasn’t foolish enough to think the attraction would endure, at least on his part. It had only happened because he was bored, or because he had no mistress conveniently at hand…whatever the reason, it supplied her with the courage to see this game through. She glanced at him and his responding smile was both pure predatory male, as though proving a point that required no further explanation.
“Even so, we must put on a convincing show,” he said. “Whatever I do, I pride myself on doing it well.” He lifted a long curl from her shoulder and ran it through his fingers. She snatched it away from him, discomposed by his annoyingly coercive charm, against which she appeared to have few defences.
“We are not in public now.”
“Maybe not, but we shouldn’t waste the opportunity to practise?”
He reached out a hand and traced the outline of her cheek. Abbey couldn’t seem to move out of range, even though she definitely wanted to. She absolutely did. Her voice also deserted her as the stimulus of his skilled fingers delicately skimming across her face caused her insides to turn summersaults. Oblivious to the presence of Sally, who had looked up from her work and was watching them with eyes agog, he progressed slowly towards her lips, brushing his fingers against them just once and then moving on to her neck. That enjoyed a more detailed examination as he slowly explored its length with a touch that threatened to scorch. His fingers barely made contact with her flesh, swirling in lazy circles before continuing upon their tantalizing quest, but Abbey reacted as though she was on fire. Bewildered, she looked at him through eyes muddied by passion, wondering how the nascent pleasure he was giving her could possibly be created by his fingertips alone.
She didn’t want this to end but knew it must, and immediately. She couldn’t seem to move or summon her voice. His fingers moved to a new location and her eyes widened with shock. His touch, even lighter than before, traced the outline of her breast through the fabric of her gown, circling it with lazy disregard for the murmur of disapproval she managed to cobble together. His eyes were locked upon hers, smouldering with a challenge she was powerless to resist. Never before had she imaged feelings of such exquisite sensitivity existed. She had managed to convince herself that what he had made her feel in the garden yesterday had been occasioned by her own curiosity. It was impossible to continue with that lie now.
With each touch of his fingers, scintillating thrills surged through her with a searing intensity that took her breath away. If such ambiguous ecstasy went by the name of passion then perhaps the poets had been right all along. But she had more pressing matters than poetry to occupy her mind. Somehow she must find the strength to end Sebastian’s amusements and get him to tell her what else he had learned about last night’s attack. She was sure there must be something. Why else would Hodges have cultivated Miss Forbisher’s friendship? Perhaps he was only districting her like this because he didn’t want to tell her.
That thought should have brought Abbey to her senses, but desire overwhelmed reason and she still couldn’t find her voice. Her arms appeared to have slipped around his neck, quite without her having noticed, and she stupidly wondered who could have put them there. Her fingers were buried in the thickness of the curls spilling over his collar. She met his gaze and found herself spellbound by the close proximity of his lips. What was happening to her? All those years of training appeared to have flown out the window. Abbey was uncomfortably aware that were it not for Sally’s presence, there was no telling where this might end because ending it was quite simply beyond her.
So much pleasure from just the simple contact of his fingers, rioting with the guilt she felt at permitting him to overstep the bounds, eventually brought her to her senses. As if emerging from a daze she blinked twice and found the courage to look into his face. She didn’t recognise what she saw there. His gaze was locked upon her features, his expression earnest and quite without artifice, which only caused the conflicting emotions within her to intensify. Drawing a ragged breath she somehow managed to find her voice.
“Sebastian, we really shouldn’t take this too far,” she said, trying to sound unaffected and probably failing miserably.
“Why not?” He whispered the words in her ear, his swirling tongue targeting the skin just below it, causing a fresh wave of pleasure to lance through her. “You are enjoying it and so am I.”
“You are taking advantage of my indisposition, which isn’t very gentlemanly.”
“Yes, I am.” His smile was entirely unrepentant.
“Sebastian!” She tried to sound disapproving but, judging from his responding chuckle, made poor work of it. “You told me yesterday I shouldn’t—”
“That was yesterday. Circumstances have changed. Besides, I am providing you with an opportunity to become acquainted with your passionate nature before you settle down and marry Evans. You really ought to thank me, and so should he.”
“I’m not…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I haven’t agreed to marry Lord Evans.”
“Not yet you haven’t, but you will.”
“I don’t see how you can possibly know that for a certainty since I haven’t made up my mind.”
“No, but you are so anxious to please your uncle that you will do whatever it takes to earn his respect.”
What the devil is he trying to say to me? Can it be..
. “You think you know me but—”
There was a tap on the door. By the time Sally had opened it to admit Abbey’s aunt, Sebastian had resumed his seat and a respectable six feet of daylight now separated them. Abbey suspected her cheeks were still flushed. Her heart was definitely beating at twice its normal rate. Hopefully Aunt Constance wouldn’t notice and ask awkward questions.
“Abby my dear.”
“Good morning, aunt.” Abbey lifted her face to receive her aunt’s kiss.
Aunt Constance greeted Sebastian warmly as he stood up and bowed over her hand.
“Lady Bevan,” he said.
“And good morning to you, Lord Denver. Thank you for keeping my niece company.”
“It is entirely my pleasure.”
Aunt Constance seated herself, not seeming to think there was anything untoward about Sebastian being virtually alone with Abbey.
“How are you today, darling?” she asked Abbey. “How does your poor ankle feel?”
“A little better, thank you, Aunt.” Abbey wondered how her voice could sound so normal after Sebastian had reduced her to a hopelessly confused mixture of frustration and guilt. “Mrs. Burton’s herbs have worked their usual magic and I already feel much more comfortable.”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
Except for the removal of an unconscionable rogue who makes my pulse race and causes me to forget who I’m supposed to be
. “I have everything I need.”
The door opened again to admit Beatrice. Perversely, Abbey was now unsure whether she was glad of the reinforcements or regretted not having the opportunity to submit to just a little more of Sebastian’s tutelage. Be that as it may, she greeted Bea warmly and answered the same questions as her aunt had just asked her.
“Well, my dear,” Aunt Constance said after half an hour. “If you’re quite comfortable then I ought to see Mrs. Burton about the menus.”
She kissed Abbey again and Sebastian stood to open the door for her.
“I have no pressing engagements,” Beatrice whispered as Sebastian showed her aunt out. “But if you would prefer me to leave you alone with—”
“Don’t you dare!”
Please leave
.
Beatrice smiled, as though able to read Abbey’s mind, and remained where she was. A pack of cards was produced and when Mary put her face around the door an hour later, she was greeted with howls of laughter. Sebastian was teaching the girls how to cheat at piquet. Abbey was rather proud with the speed at which she had mastered the art of dealing from the bottom of the pack.
Mary hovered for a moment or two but when she wasn’t invited to join the game she used her children an excuse to leave again. Abbey could see that Sebastian was observing her closely, while not appearing to take more than the mildest interest in her. She was reminded then that she hadn’t yet asked him what discoveries Mr. Hodges had made. With Bea in attendance she still couldn’t do so, which was presumably his intention when instigating the game, the wretched man!
It was time for luncheon, giving Abbey further cause to be frustrated by Sebastian’s growing assertiveness. She wanted to remain in her chamber and have something sent up on a tray but it seemed that didn’t fit in with his plans.
“A change of scenery will do you good, Lady Abigail,” he said. “I would urge you to take luncheon in the dining-room.”
“Why must I go down?” she hissed, watching Beatrice as she exchanged a few words with Sally before leaving the room.
“To keep up the charade,” he replied. “The gentlemen are all on the hunting field, it’s true, but none of the ladies have ridden to hounds today. If we flirt over luncheon the gentlemen will receive a full account of our behaviour when they return which is, of course, the point of it all.”
‘”So it is,” she replied, tossing her head because it hurt to be reminded she meant nothing to him.
“Obviously, it will only be possible for them to hear of our growing regard for one another if we are actually
seen
together.”
Annoyingly she could find no fault with this logic and conceded the point with a reluctant nod.
“Very well. If you give me your arm, I can probably walk—”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence, mainly because she no longer had sufficient breath in her body to do so. She felt it draining out of her as she was quite literally swept off her settee by a strong pair of arms.
“I can walk!”
“No, better for me to carry you.” His grin was positively lethal. “I have deliberately ensured we make a late entry so all the ladies witness me carrying you in. Naturally I shall hold you far closer than is strictly necessary.”
Abbey rolled her eyes. “Naturally!”
“We need to be convincing.” He cocked his head to one side and sent her a taunting smile. “Do you think you will be able to endure the experience?”
“Harrumph! You, my lord, are overdue for a good setting down.”
Sebastian chortled, a deep throaty sound which she could feel vibrating through his chest. “Tighten your arms around my neck, sweetheart.” His mocking tone was surely designed to try her patience. Her moue of distaste only seemed to amuse him further, his chuckle turning into a rumbling laugh. “And, let me see, what else?”
“Now what?” she asked impatiently.
“I’m not precisely sure, but something’s lacking. You are far too pale. You should be looking animated, your eyes should have additional sparkle and you skin should be glowing. All as a direct result of my attentions, naturally.” Seeming not to notice the most unladylike snort which she expelled, Sebastian continued to regard her intently. “Now, how can we put that right?”
Abbey could feel herself blushing scarlet. “You are enjoying this!” she cried accusingly
“Immensely.” His wink and corresponding smile could have melted stone. She lost the battle to prevent it from affecting her and contented herself with a lofty glare. “That maidenly blush is most becoming. Very convincing, but there’s still something amiss.”
“I cannot help the way I look,” she said peevishly.
“It is your lips, I think. They need to look as though they’ve been thoroughly kissed.”
She understood what he meant to do and became genuinely distressed. It was one thing kissing him in the garden when no one was around to see her resulting disarray, but deliberately giving the impression that she had been free with her favours was going too far.
“Sebastian, don’t do this! Please, you can’t possibly. Not here. Not now.”
But, of course, he could. And he did. Ignoring her very real distress he paused at the head of the stairs, angled his head and captured her lips with all the assuredness of a man who fully expected his overture to be welcomed. She struggled against him, this really was too much. But he was so much stronger than she was, the expression in his eyes so persuasively compelling, that her struggle ceased almost before it had begun. Besides, just the feel of his lips upon hers was enough to send a vortex of desire spiralling through her all over again, leaving her quivering with anticipation and ill-equipped to resist his demands.
Her eyes fluttered to a close as his tongue probed, asking for and receiving her complete capitulation, Abbey no longer cared that she was engaged in a most unseemly embrace with a rake of the first order in a public place where anyone might come upon them at any time. In fact she no longer cared about anything at all, other than that Sebastian should continue to kiss her.
He couldn’t do so. It had to end and he broke the kiss before Abbey was ready for it to end. She was mortified when a tiny moan of protest escaped her mouth.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as he commenced their journey down the stairs. “I promise to make it up to you later.”
“Don’t imagine I enjoyed that,” she hissed. “I was merely playing a part.”
“Very convincingly, too.” Holding her closely against him, he examined her face. “That’s better. No one will have any doubts about how we’ve been occupying our time now, but a gesture from you as I carry you into the dining-room wouldn’t go amiss. Perhaps you could tangle your fingers in my hair.” He tiled his handsome head, as though considering the matter. “Yes, that would be just the right touch. Ouch! Tangle, I said, Abbey, not tug.”