Читать книгу Tall, Dark & Irresistible: The Rogue's Disgraced Lady - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 13

‘You look perfectly lovely this evening, Juliet.’ Helena beamed at her approvingly as Juliet stood in front of the cheval mirror, studying her reflection.

Her cousin, restless from being confined to her room for two days now, had this evening insisted that she was recovered sufficiently from her fall to come downstairs and help Juliet prepare for dinner. Juliet knew she should have insisted that Helena rest her ankle further, but she had nevertheless appreciated her cousin’s help in dressing and arranging her hair. She wanted to look her best this evening.

Following her candid conversation earlier today with Dolly Bancroft, she had decided to give Sebastian St Claire the opportunity in which to make his apologies to her, at least. The rest of Dolly’s advice she was less sure about!

Unfortunately there had been no opportunity to see or speak with Lord St Claire after talking to Dolly. He had gone out riding late this morning, and had not returned until much later in the afternoon. So this evening would be the first available opportunity Juliet would have to see him again. And for him to see her.

Dolly had advised that Juliet take Sebastian as her lover. The question was, did Juliet wish to take a lover? Not if, as she had always thought, all men were as brutish as Crestwood had been! Dolly’s description of her own relationship with William Bancroft seemed to imply that they were not, but still Juliet felt uneasy—

She was getting far ahead of herself!

After their two fallings out there was absolutely no reason to presume that Sebastian still wished to become her lover ….

Sebastian paid little attention to his fellow guests as they gathered in the drawing room before dinner, his mood not improved since that morning, despite riding for an hour across the countryside in order that he might pay an unexpected call upon Lucian and his bride of less than one month at their own Hampshire estate.

The recently married couple had welcomed him most warmly; it had been Sebastian’s own distraction that had prevented him from enjoying the visit. Within a few minutes of his arrival Sebastian had known that he should not have gone there. Lucian was so obviously happy with his bride, and Sebastian’s word to Bancroft prevented him from discussing with his brother any of the conversation of this morning in any case.

There was no one, it seemed—not Lucian, not Gray, not Dolly—with whom Sebastian could talk about the web of intrigue in which he now found himself entangled.

The fact that Juliet Boyd looked breathtaking and innocently lovely as she entered the drawing room at that moment did not improve Sebastian’s temper. To such an extent that he realised he was actually scowling across the room at her as she fell into conversation with the Duchess of Essex.

Juliet’s gown this evening was of cream satin and lace that complemented perfectly the pearly translucence of her skin, its low neckline revealing the full swell of her breasts. The darkness of her hair was arranged artfully in tiny curls about the beauty of her face and nape, the green of her eyes made all the deeper by a fringe of thick dark lashes and her mouth a full and sensuous pout.

Sebastian stiffened as she turned and seemed deliberately to meet his gaze, leaving him with no other choice but to make an abrupt bow of acknowledgement before turning immediately away again, his hands clenching tightly at his sides.

This was going to be so much harder than he had imagined if he could not even bring himself to relax when Juliet was only in the same room as himself. How on earth would he get close enough to her to ascertain her innocence if he did not get a firmer grip on his emotions? After all, he was ultimately doing this with the intention of proving her innocence to those who seemed all too ready to believe in her guilt.

‘Good evening, Lord St Claire.’

For the first time in their acquaintance Juliet Boyd had approached him! Yesterday Sebastian would have rejoiced in that fact. Today he could not rid himself of the weight of duplicity pressing down upon him so heavily.

‘Can it be that you are still angry with me, My Lord …?’

Juliet felt nervous, and not a little foolish, as she attempted to flirt with Sebastian. She had watched other women do it for years, of course, but it was a different matter entirely to behave in such a fashion herself. There had been little occasion for her to do so during her one and only Season, and Edward would have dealt with her most severely if he had so much as suspected her of flirtation during their marriage.

But if she and Lord St Claire did not talk to each other, how was he to be persuaded into making his apologies to her?

He looked so very handsome this evening, too, in a tailored black superfine, snowy white linen beneath a waistcoat of the palest silver, white pantaloons fitted quite shamefully to the long muscled length of his hips and thighs, and polished black Hessians.

Ordinarily Juliet knew she would not have noticed how perfectly a man’s clothes were tailored to him. That she did so now where Sebastian was concerned was due, she had no doubt, to the candidness of Dolly Bancroft’s conversation that morning.

Juliet felt warm just looking at him as she recalled that conversation. She was totally aware of the width of his shoulders and muscled chest. The flatness of his stomach. The promised power of his thighs …

Oh, dear Lord!

Juliet flicked her fan open and wafted it up and down in front of her face in an effort to cool her burning cheeks.

His gaze was narrowed as he looked down at her. ‘I believe it is you who were angry with me, ma’am,’ he pointed out rather curtly.

Juliet tried to remember how, over the years, she had seen other women behave in the presence of such an attractive man as he.

A glance from beneath lowered lashes, perhaps?

No, that had only made him scowl all the more!

A mysterious little smile that hinted at invitation?

No, that had only made him narrow his gaze on her questioningly!

Perhaps she should just be herself, after all? Sebastian had seemed to find that attractive enough yesterday evening, when he’d made love to her so illicitly.

Juliet snapped her fan closed and gave up every pretence of flirtation. ‘We both know I have good reason to be angry with you, Lord St Claire.’

‘Then I wonder you have troubled yourself to seek me out,’ he retorted.

Her smile was brittle. ‘I did not “seek you out”, as you call it, Lord St Claire. I was merely passing this way in order to talk to Lord Grayson, and it would have been rude of me not to have acknowledged you at least. If you will excuse me …? My Lord!’ she exclaimed sharply as Sebastian reached out and grasped her wrist, so that she could not escape without drawing attention to the two of them. ‘You are hurting my wrist, sir!’ Her eyes flashed up at him warningly.

Sebastian would have liked to do more than hurt Juliet Boyd’s wrist—he wanted to wring her damned neck! First she threw him completely off balance by approaching him. Then she seemed almost to have been flirting with him, before transforming into her usual waspish self. This woman was such a tangle of contradictions she had Sebastian tied up in knots!

He gave a hard smile. ‘Take my advice, Juliet, and stay well away from Lord Grayson.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

She looked so outraged. So indignant. So hurt … Yes, this woman was a mass of contradictions that promised to drive Sebastian quietly out of his mind!

His grip on her wrist gentled and he pulled her slowly towards him, watching as her eyes opened wider and wider as he pulled her ever closer. Until she stood so near to him their bodies almost touched. Until he could see the quick rise and fall of her breasts. The trembling of her slightly parted lips. Feel the softness of her breath against his throat.

God, he wanted to crush Juliet’s lips beneath his own. Just as he longed to rip the gown from her body before making love to her until she screamed out in pleasure. Until she screamed out her innocence!

The image of making love to her formed so vividly in his mind that Sebastian felt his thighs hardening. Throbbing. Aching …

His jaw clenched. ‘You are playing a dangerous game, my lady!’

Juliet blinked her confusion. ‘Game, My Lord? I have no idea what—’

‘I am sorry to interrupt, but it is time to go into dinner.’

Juliet turned blankly to look at Dolly Bancroft, where she stood beside them, smiling. The Duke of Essex stood to one side, waiting to escort their hostess in to dinner, but otherwise the drawing room had emptied of the other twenty or so guests.

Leaving Sebastian once again to escort Juliet into dinner ….

Something she was sure neither of them desired after this latest heated exchange.

Far from feeling remorse at the wrong he had done her this morning, Sebastian seemed almost angry with her. Coldly, remorselessly so. And Juliet had seen far too much coldness and remorselessness during her marriage to Crestwood to tolerate any more of it.

‘How kind of you to wait for me, Your Grace.’ She stepped away from Sebastian to place her hand upon the Duke of Essex’s arm, thereby allowing him to escort her into dinner. The Duke was far too much the gentleman to point out that she had taken Dolly Bancroft’s place.

Sebastian’s eyes blazed deeply golden as he turned from watching Juliet’s departure on the arm of the Duke of Essex. ‘Do not!’ he grated, as Dolly Bancroft would have spoken as he offered her his arm. He had no intention of discussing her husband’s conversation of this morning with her. Or indeed anything else!

‘Did I not initially try to persuade you from your interest in Juliet?’ Dolly nevertheless attempted.

‘Before you saw that my interest could be to your husband’s advantage?’ Sebastian scorned. ‘Perhaps one day I may be able to forgive you for this, Dolly—but it is certainly not going to be today!’

‘Life cannot always be a game, Sebastian.’ She sounded wistful.

Sebastian looked down at her bleakly. ‘When all of this is over I think it best if you and I do not meet again for some time.’

The hurt she felt was reflected in the deep blue of her eyes, but the inclination of her head was as gracious as always. ‘As you wish.’

What Sebastian wished was that he had never seen Juliet Boyd. Never desired to bed her. Never come to Banford Park in pursuit of her. More than anything else he wished he could just leave here today, now, and forget he had ever been told of the suspicions harboured against her.

But Sebastian’s sense of fair play, his honour, his loyalty, said that he could do none of those things. That, no matter how Juliet might one day despise him for his actions, he owed it to her to see that she was given every opportunity to prove herself innocent of Bancroft’s accusations.

Or not …

‘Are you feeling unwell, Juliet …?’ Helena hovered behind her as she sat in front of the mirror. Juliet had dismissed her cousin once she had helped her out of her gown, wishing to be alone when she removed the pins from her hair, but Helena’s glance at her reflection showed Juliet’s face to be exceedingly pale, the green of her eyes the only colour, and there was a frown of tension upon her brow.

Altogether it had not been a successful evening. Yet another unpleasant exchange with Sebastian St Claire had occurred. Followed by a lengthy dinner when Juliet had found herself seated between two gentlemen who wished only to converse on fox hunting and their hounds. She had then been persuaded into partnering Lord Grayson in a game of whist, all the time aware of Sebastian as he sat at the next table, partner to the beautiful Lady Butler. Juliet’s distraction at the other woman’s obviously flirtatious manner had been such that she and Grayson had lost miserably. Juliet had been relieved when she could at last excuse herself and retire to her bedchamber.

The greatest disappointment, of course, had been the way Sebastian had seemed too preoccupied to notice her. For the first time in her life Juliet had deliberately set out to see if she could attract the attention of a certain man, and the man had shown her nothing but indifference!

‘I have a slight headache, that is all,’ she assured her cousin ruefully. ‘But I am perfectly capable of taking down my own hair. It would please me if you would go back upstairs and rest your ankle.’ She smiled encouragingly, knowing that she wished only to be alone to lick the wounds to her pride.

She maintained that smile until Helena turned and left the bedchamber, only relaxing into dejection once she knew herself to be completely alone.

What Juliet would have really liked to do was go out onto her balcony and breathe in some of the warm summer air. But she was loath to do so after the last time she had done just that. It would be too humiliating if by chance Sebastian happened to find her there once again. If he were to assume that she was deliberately trying to attract his attention.

Not that it was particularly likely; if Sebastian had already retired to any bedchamber then it was probably Lady Butler’s!

Sebastian was sprawled atop the bedcovers in a state of disarray, drinking brandy copiously, when he heard the first scream.

It had not been easy to turn down Lady Butler’s obvious invitation to retire with her to her bedchamber, without causing offence, but somehow Sebastian had managed it. As he had also managed to procure a decanter of brandy and a glass from a footman, before mounting the staircase two steps at a time and then striding to his bedchamber to close the door firmly behind him.

Watching Gray’s solicitations to Juliet Boyd for two hours had induced a need in Sebastian not to see or speak to anyone else this evening. He had thrown open the doors out onto his balcony before undressing down to his pantaloons, his intention to lie down upon his bed and get roaring drunk before hopefully falling into an unconscious stupor.

The fear and desperation he heard in Juliet’s scream wiped all thought of sleep from Sebastian’s mind, and he slammed his glass down on the bedside table before jumping to his bare feet.

It did not even occur to him to use the door out into the hallway. He rushed out onto his balcony to vault over the top of the ridiculous barrier before throwing open the door to Juliet’s room, fearful of what or who he might find there.

The bedchamber was lit by a single candle placed on the dressing table, its reflection in the mirror behind adding more light to the room.

The bedchamber showed only one occupant.

Juliet.

She lay alone in the centre of the bed, her fingers tightly clutching the bedclothes to her chest as she tossed and turned her head on the pillow.

Her eyes were firmly closed.

Sebastian stood very still beside the bed as he looked down at her. That Juliet was still sleeping, probably completely unaware that she had cried out, was obvious.

Her hair was a midnight curtain on the pillow beneath her. Her shoulders were bare, except for the thin straps of a white silk nightgown, and the revealed swell of her breasts was full and creamy.

Sebastian felt the fierceness of his expression soften as he took in how beautiful she looked. How fragile. How utterly—

‘No!’ Juliet suddenly cried out again, her eyes still closed but her features contorted. ‘Do not! Please do not!’ She sat up abruptly in the bed, her eyes wide and fearful as she stared straight ahead. ‘Please!’ she groaned achingly once again, before burying her face in her hands and beginning to sob.

Her distress was unbearable. Certainly more than Sebastian could bear anyway!

He quickly sat down on the side of the bed to reach out and draw her into his arms. ‘You are safe, Juliet,’ he assured her fiercely. ‘There is no one here who shall harm you.’ His arms tightened about her and he held her cradled against his chest.

Juliet froze as she became aware of bare flesh beneath her cheek.

Arms like steel bands were about her, holding her so tightly she could not break free.

Crestwood!

He was here. In her bedchamber. And if he was here it could mean only one thing!

She could not bear it. Not again. Never again could she lie unmoving, silent, while he—

No, Crestwood was not here!

He could not be here.

Crestwood was dead ….

Then who was holding her so tightly?

The skin Juliet felt beneath her breast was smooth and deeply muscled, rather than pale and lined, with no sign of that flabbiness of flesh she had become used to in a man thirty years her senior, and the softness of hair that covered this chest and stomach was dark rather than coarsely grey.

Juliet raised her gaze almost fearfully to the firmness of jaw, and above chiselled lips, a long aquiline nose, high cheekbones, eyes the colour of honey, and dark hair shot through with gold in rumpled disarray onto the broadness of those wide shoulders.

‘Lord St Claire!’ she gasped in recognition, even as she attempted to pull away from him. His arms tightened to prevent her. ‘You must release me, My Lord!’ She breathed unevenly.

‘Why must I?’ His voice sounded dark and mesmerising in the silence of the bedchamber.

‘Because—because—you should not be here, Sebastian,’ Juliet whispered shakily. ‘Why did you come?’ She pulled back slightly to look into the brooding darkness of his face.

Such a handsome face. So sinfully, magnificently handsome …

Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat as he looked into the deep green of Juliet’s eyes. ‘You do not remember, do you?’

Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘Remember what, My Lord?’

‘You called me Sebastian just now,’ he reminded her huskily. ‘And I am here because you cried out loudly in your sleep and I heard you.’ His eyes narrowed as he saw the sudden wariness in her expression before her gaze dropped away from his. ‘Who did this to you, Juliet? Who has hurt you enough that you are plagued by nightmares that make you cry out even in sleep?’

Her face had been pale before, but now it grew even paler. ‘I do not know what you mean, My Lord—’

‘Do not lie to me, Juliet,’ he warned harshly, his hands grasping the tops of her arms as she would have pulled away from him. ‘Did Crestwood do this to you? Did he frighten you in some way? Is that why you—?’ He broke off, his jaw tight.

She raised startled eyes. ‘Why I what, Sebastian?’

She was so beautiful, so utterly desirable as Sebastian held her soft lushness in his arms, that he did not want to think of anything else—to see or feel anything but Juliet. At this moment she was all that mattered.

Juliet knew Sebastian was going to kiss her the moment she saw the hunger in his gaze as it dropped to the softness of her lips. Knew it. And craved it …

She had no memory of calling out in her sleep or of what she had said. But she could imagine what it might have been. She had been dreaming of Crestwood. Of how so often he had hurt her. How there had never been anyone there, ever, to stop him from hurting her.

Not so tonight. Tonight Sebastian St Claire was here. In her bedchamber. Not Lady Butler’s, as Juliet had imagined. And Juliet wanted him to hold her. To kiss her. To caress her. To block out and destroy for ever all those painful memories of Crestwood that so tormented and disturbed her.

‘Juliet …?’ St Claire groaned as she raised her lips willingly to his.

Such a strong and sensuous mouth as it claimed hers. His shoulders were hard and muscled beneath Juliet’s fingers as she clung to him. He felt so firm and smooth, and the muscles rippled beneath the warmth of his skin. Those muscles told her that no one would get past him, that if she wished it he would protect her.

Even from a ghost …

Her eyes closed and her lips parted willingly beneath the gentle sweep of his tongue. That tongue flicked lightly over her inner lip and the small ridge of her teeth before exploring further as it moved teasingly against hers.

Sebastian felt the leap of his body and the hardening of his thighs as Juliet’s tongue began a sensuous duel with his. Moving enticingly forward, before retreating, tempting him deeper still. Her warm curves pressed against him were driving him wild with desire, and he could hold back no longer as he thrust fully inside her mouth, to possess her with his tongue.

It was not enough. It would never be enough with this particular woman. Sebastian wanted all of her. Wanted every part of her to be his!

Even as his mouth continued to claim hers, he slipped the thin ribbon straps from her shoulders and down her arms, moving slightly to let the material fall down to her waist before he pulled her back against him, crushing her bared breasts against his chest. Such softness. Such warm, tempting softness. A softness Sebastian had so longed to touch, to kiss.

He moved one of his hands to cup beneath one of those gentle slopes, testing the weight of her breast against his palm, able to feel if not see the pout of her nipple. Knowing even as he ran the pad of his thumb against that pouting softness and felt it harden that he had to have it in his mouth so that he might pleasure her with his tongue.

Juliet felt bereft when Sebastian pulled his mouth from hers to look down at her with eyes of dark honey-gold that seemed to be asking her a question.

‘Do not stop, Sebastian,’ she pleaded huskily. ‘Please, do not stop!’

Whatever question had been in his eyes, she appeared to have answered it, and his gaze continued to hold hers as he lowered his head to place his caressing lips against the gentle curve between her neck and shoulder. Those lips were feather light as they moved lower. And then lower still.

Juliet gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she realised his destination. ‘Sebastian …?’

‘Let me, Juliet.’ He raised his head to take one of her hands in his and kiss the palm, before placing it down on the bed beside her and then doing the same with its twin. ‘I promise I will not hurt you.’ His eyes looked intently into hers. ‘I will never hurt you. Do you believe me?’

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes wide and apprehensive as she reached to clutch and pull the material of her nightgown up over the bareness of her breasts. ‘What—what are you going to do?’

‘Nothing you will not enjoy, I promise.’ He made no effort to touch her, to use physical coercion of any kind. ‘Do you trust me not to hurt you, Juliet?’

Did she trust him? If she said no would he stop now? If she said no at some later point would he still stop?

Sebastian could read the thoughts racing through Juliet’s mind. Could read them—and wanted to do physical harm to the man who had caused such apprehension inside her. Sebastian was convinced now that it had to have been Crestwood. Even Bancroft, suspicious and accusing, had agreed there had been no other man in Juliet’s life this last twelve years but her husband.

Damn Bancroft! Now was not the time to think of either the man or any of the things he had said to Sebastian this morning.

His hands moved up to gently frame either side of Juliet’s face.

‘Tonight is for you, Juliet. Only for you.’

Much as it might kill him, Sebastian meant to give this woman pleasure—as much pleasure as she could take—whilst taking nothing for himself but the knowledge of that pleasure. Whatever will-power it took, whatever he suffered later, Sebastian was determined to replace that look of fear on Juliet’s face, in the dark green depths of her eyes, with one of joy.

‘Juliet …?’ he prompted gruffly.

Juliet remained unmoving, not even breathing as she looked at him. Her gaze was seeking. Probing. Searching, no doubt, for any sign in his expression that said he lied. Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed and steady on hers.