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‘Are you not being a little over-hasty, Lady Boyd?’ His tone was pleasantly cajoling now. ‘I believe Dolly told me that this is your first venture back into Society since your time of mourning came to an end. Is that so?’
After the awkwardness of this evening it was likely to be Juliet’s last venture into Society, too!
She liked Dolly immensely, and had always found the other woman a complete antidote to the formality of the stuffy rules that so often abounded at any occasion attended by the ton. But if Dolly believed she was doing Juliet a kindness by casting one of her own lovers into Juliet’s path, then she was under a serious misapprehension. The attentions of a man such as Sebastian St Claire—a renowned rake and a flirt, and moreover several years her junior—was the last thing Juliet needed to complicate her life. Now or at any other time.
‘I do not consider my decision any of your business, My Lord.’
‘No?’ He quirked mocking brows. ‘You do not think it would cause embarrassment for Dolly if you were to leave so soon after your arrival?’
Juliet raised a cool eyebrow of her own. ‘On the contrary, My Lord, I believe I will be saving Dolly from further embarrassment by removing myself from her home at the earliest opportunity.’
‘So your intention is to run back to the safety of your estate in Shropshire at the first hint of opposition?’ Sebastian needled.
Juliet gasped. ‘You go too far, sir!’
He appeared completely unruffled by her anger. Instead he leant forward to place his hand on her gloved one as it rested on the tabletop, his lips a mere whisper away from the pearl-adorned lobe of her ear as he whispered, ‘My dear Countess, I have not even begun to go too far where you are concerned!’
Juliet felt the colour come into and then as quickly fade from her cheeks as she looked up and saw the flirtatious intent in that whisky-coloured gaze. How dared he talk to her in this familiar way?
‘You are causing a scene, sir,’ she snapped as she deftly extricated her hand from beneath his. ‘I believe it might be better, for both our sakes, if you were to refrain from talking to me for the rest of the evening.’
He gave a wicked smile. ‘Will that not look a little strange, when we have seemed to be getting along so well together?’
‘Seemed is the correct word, sir,’ Juliet assured him frostily. ‘This conversation is now at an end.’ She moved slightly in her seat, so that her shoulder was firmly turned against him, and began to converse with her host about the expectations of the weather for the forthcoming week.
She had never before met a man such as Sebastian St Claire. A man so forthright in his manner. A man who refused to listen to or accept the word no.
Juliet had always accompanied Edward to London in spring for the Season, attending such parties and balls with him as he had deemed necessary, and giving a ball herself towards the end of the Season, to which all suitable members of the ton had been invited. Lord Sebastian St Claire had not been amongst her guests.
St Claire’s eldest brother, the haughty Duke of Stourbridge, had several times been invited to dine privately with them, and Juliet could see a certain resemblance between the two brothers in colouring, and in that inborn air of arrogance. But young rakes such as Sebastian St Claire had not entered into Edward’s lofty circle of acquaintances, nor consequently, Juliet’s own.
Even as she continued to talk to the Earl of Banford, their conversation soon including his mother, the Dowager Countess, Juliet found her attention wandering as she wondered what Edward would have made of the young Lord St Claire.
He would not have approved of him.
No, he was too young. Too irresponsible. Too rakish. Too everything that Edward had disapproved of.
Suddenly that realisation was enough for Juliet to want to make a friend of St Claire, in spite of her own reservations!
The candle was still alight in Juliet Boyd’s bedchamber when Sebastian stepped out onto his balcony to enjoy a last cigar before retiring to his bed, but the lace curtains once again made it impossible for him to see the occupant of the room, and whether or not she was already abed.
It had certainly been an interesting evening, if a frustrating one. That frank, almost intimate conversation with the Countess had been enjoyable, but it had been followed by the irritation of having her completely ignore him for the rest of the meal—as she had stated she intended doing. Even more frustrating, she had disappeared completely by the time the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, after enjoying several glasses of excellent port.
Would she carry out her threat to leave in the morning?
Sebastian had come to realise this evening that in her acceptance of Dolly’s invitation, and by placing herself at the very centre of Society, which had judged and condemned her a year and a half ago, Juliet Boyd was being an exceptionally brave woman—but he had not expected her to be quite such a stubborn one, too!
Yet, if anything, that stubbornness—the way the sting of her anger had brought the colour to her cheeks and given her eyes the appearance of glittering emeralds—had only succeeded in deepening Sebastian’s interest in her ….
Dolly would have to talk to her, somehow persuade her into staying ….
The faint click of a door catch warned Sebastian that he would soon cease to be alone. He dropped his cigar and ground it beneath his shoe, then moved back into the shadows mere seconds before the doors of the Countess’s bedchamber opened and she stepped out onto her balcony.
Sebastian’s breath caught and held in his throat as she moved forward to stand next to the balustrade and look up at the bright starlit sky.
This venture out onto her balcony before retiring had been one of pure impulse, Sebastian had no doubt. She was prepared for bed: her hair—those glorious dark curls that he had earlier imagined cascading over her creamy shoulders and down her back when it was released—actually reached the whole length of her spine to rest against her shapely bottom. It was stunning—so thick and dark, and bathed with silver by the moon shining overhead. She wore a robe of pale green silk over a matching nightgown, but with the moonlight shining down so brightly even the two items together could not disguise the fullness of her unconfined breasts beneath, nor the gentle curve of her waist and temptingly rounded bottom above long and slender legs.
She was desire incarnate.
A goddess …
‘Who is there?’
Sebastian had no idea what he had done to give himself away. Drawn in an unconscious breath at the sight of her beauty? Or perhaps made a movement forward towards the temptation she offered so innocently?
Whatever it had been, it had alerted Juliet Boyd to his presence, and she turned in the moonlight to look at the exact spot where Sebastian stood so silently, watching her from the shadows of the house behind him.
Knowing further concealment was now ridiculous, Sebastian stepped forward to make her an adroit bow. ‘My Lady.’
Juliet gave a gasp, and raised a startled hand to her throat as she easily recognised the man standing so large and formidable on the balcony. ‘What are you doing here?’ She sounded breathless.
And indeed Juliet was breathless! She had already had cause to remark upon this man’s audacity once this evening, but even so she had never suspected that he would later attempt to enter her bedchamber uninvited!
She stiffened in outrage. ‘How dare you presume to invade my balcony in this way, My Lord?’
He gave every appearance of being completely unruffled by her displeasure as he drawled nonchalantly, ‘You are mistaken, My Lady.’
Juliet drew herself up indignantly. ‘I cannot mistake the evidence of my own eyes, sir!’
He gave a twisted smile. ‘That was not the mistake I was referring to.’
She eyed him frowningly. ‘What, then?’
He shrugged those broad shoulders, instantly drawing Juliet’s attention to the fact that he appeared to have removed his black frock coat and cravat, revealing a silver brocaded waistcoat that was tailored to the flatness of his stomach. His billowing shirt was now unfastened at the throat, revealing a light dusting of dark hair upon his chest.
Juliet quickly averted her gaze from this glimpse of his bared flesh, even as she became aware of her own state of undress. Helena had come to Juliet’s bedchamber earlier, to remove the pins from her hair before helping her into her night attire—the pale green silk and lace gown and robe that were all Juliet was wearing now, as she engaged in conversation with the disreputable Sebastian St Claire!
Sebastian could almost see the panic of thoughts rushing through Juliet’s head as she gathered her robe about her and prepared herself for flight. ‘I merely meant to point out that the door behind me leads into my bedchamber, and therefore I am standing upon my own balcony rather than yours.’
She hesitated. ‘Your own balcony …?’ Her gaze moved to the open doors behind him, before lowering to the space between them, her eyes widening as she obviously saw the low ironwork that separated the two balconies but was concealed amongst the potted plants placed either side of it. Her throat moved convulsively. ‘It appears that I owe you an apology, Lord St Claire.’
‘Do not be over-hasty with that apology,’ Sebastian drawled, before stepping lithely over the ironwork that separated them. ‘There. You see. An apology is no longer necessary.’ He gave an unrepentant grin as he now stood only inches away from her.
Juliet trembled slightly. Despite being married for so long, she had little experience upon which she might draw in order to deal with this man’s outrageous behaviour!
St Claire had stared at her so boldly, so familiarly earlier this evening, when she’d first entered the drawing-room on the Earl’s arm. After their introduction he had chosen to bandy words with her, before proceeding to flirt with her during dinner—until Juliet had made a sharp end to it.
Finding herself alone with him now—on the balcony of her bedchamber, the hour late, the moonlight shining overhead, wearing only her night attire—could be considered scandalous!
No, it was scandalous, Juliet recognised with a sinking feeling—and it was exactly the sort of behaviour the ton were so avidly seeking in order that they might condemn her all over again.
She put out a shaking hand. ‘You must return to your own balcony this instant!’ she ordered.
‘Must I?’
He was suddenly standing much too close to her. So close that Juliet could smell the freshness of his cologne and the faint aroma of cigars that clung to his clothing. Worse, his eyes, those warm, whisky-coloured eyes, were gleaming down at her in the moonlight as he easily captured and held her gaze.
Nevertheless, she must stand firm against all temptations … ‘Yes, you most certainly must!’ Juliet averred firmly.
He gave her a considering look. ‘Why?’
‘Because we cannot be seen here alone together like this!’ she gasped.
‘That is hardly likely, now, is it, Juliet?’ He gave a pointed look at their surroundings, to indicate that no candles glowed in the other bedchambers to show that any of the other guests had yet retired to their rooms for the night.
No doubt they were all still downstairs in the drawing room, Juliet surmised impatiently, discussing the scandal that the presence of the notorious Countess of Crestwood in their midst represented!
‘I have not given permission for you to address me by name.’ Her chin rose challengingly. ‘And I trust you are aware, Lord St Claire, of the reason the ton labelled me the Black Widow?’
Sebastian frowned slightly at the mention of that name once again, discovering that he took serious exception to it. ‘For the main part, I choose to ignore malicious gossip.’
The Countess arched dark brows. ‘And what if on this occasion it is not merely malicious? What if it is true?’
His gaze became fixed on those clear, unblinking green eyes as she continued to meet his gaze in challenge. ‘Is it?’ he asked quietly.
She gave a humourless laugh. ‘I have no intention of answering such a question!’
‘I am glad of it,’ he replied simply. ‘It really does not signify what I or anyone else believes about your husband’s death.’
‘It—does—not signify?’ she repeated incredulously, those green eyes now flashing angrily.
‘No,’ Sebastian reiterated, and he reached out to lightly clasp the tops of her arms and pull her slowly, purposefully towards him. ‘As I have absolutely no interest in becoming your second husband, it is doubtful you will ever have a reason for wanting me dead.’
He was wrong—because Juliet had never felt more capable of inflicting physical retribution upon another person in her life as she did at that moment! ‘There you are mistaken, Lord St Claire.’ She snapped her indignation as she attempted to pull away from him. ‘At this moment I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than to see you consigned to the devil, where you so obviously belong!’
He gave a husky laugh, refusing to release her despite her struggles. ‘You believe my past misdeeds are serious enough to send me to the pits of hell?’
‘You do not?’ Juliet gave him a scornful glance.
‘It is a possibility, I suppose,’ he conceded, after appearing to consider the matter closely. ‘Drunkenness. Gambling. Debauchery. Hmm, it does seem more than a possibility, does it not …?’
The lowering of his head towards hers slowly blocked out the moonlight overhead, and Juliet became very still as she stared up at him. ‘What are you doing?’ she breathed unsteadily.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘As you seem to believe I am going to the devil anyway, I cannot see that one more indiscretion is going to make the slightest difference to my hellish fate!’
‘You—’ Juliet had no more chance for protest as Sebastian St Claire’s mouth laid claim to hers.
That arrogantly mocking mouth, which never seemed far from a smile. That firm, experienced mouth. It parted Juliet’s lips to deepen the kiss even as he pulled her closer against his body, in order to mould her much softer curves to the hard contours of his muscled chest and thighs.
In the whole of her thirty years Juliet had never known any other man’s kisses but Edward’s. And they certainly hadn’t prepared her for the warm seductiveness of Sebastian St Claire’s lips as they parted hers, or for the way the tip of his tongue delicately moved in exploration against them before sweeping into the heat beneath as he deepened and lengthened the kiss.
Was this arousal? Juliet wondered, slightly dazedly.
There was an unaccustomed warmth between her thighs as his mouth continued to plunder and claim hers. Her breasts had firmed, and the nipples tingled achingly where they were pressed so firmly against his brocade waistcoat. His hands caressed the length of her back, the movement causing the tips of her breasts to stroke against his body, and Juliet groaned low in her throat at the sensation that this caused throughout her body.
What was happening to her? Juliet wondered wildly.
She had never experienced any of these sensations on those occasions when Edward had pushed her nightgown up to her chin before he thrust the hard thing between his legs painfully inside her, his member so long and thick that the first time he had taken her Juliet had actually fainted as Edward ripped through the barrier of her innocence.
It had been the same every time Edward had come to her bed—he took her in a cold, silent way—and Juliet had always had to fight to keep the tears from falling, knowing that her tears would only anger Edward into making her suffer even worse degradation.
So Juliet had suffered the pain as Edward had thrust himself between her thighs, eventually giving a grunt and collapsing heavily on top of her, rather than suffer the verbal and physical retribution that would rain down on her should she attempt to refuse him.
Thankfully Edward had not come to her bedchamber quite so often during the last few years of her marriage, but on the occasions when he had done so no amount of pleading on her part had succeeded in softening his demands. She was his wife, he had told her coldly, and as such it was her duty to lie back, open her legs, and give satisfaction to his physical needs—whenever and whatever they might be.
The memory of those miserable nights with Edward was enough to kill any possibility of Juliet ever finding pleasure in any man’s arms—even Sebastian St Claire’s!—and she wrenched her mouth free of his before pushing him away, her hands held out defensively in front of her as she backed away from him.
Edward was dead, Juliet reminded herself desperately. She was free of him at last. Not just free of him, but of all men. Juliet had promised herself after Edward’s death that she would never again suffer the torment of belonging to any man.
‘Do not come near me again!’ she warned harshly. She knew by the raising of his hand that St Claire was about to do exactly that.
Sebastian had meant only to cup the side of Juliet’s face, to lay the soft pad of his thumb soothingly against lips slightly swollen from his kisses. But his hand fell back to his side, and his gaze became searching as he saw the wildness glittering in the deep green of her eyes. Like those of a rabbit cornered by a bigger and stronger predator ….
Who was responsible for causing this look of desperation in such a lovely and delicate woman?
Chapter Three
Sebastian had no idea quite what he would have said or done next, as a loud knock on the outer door to Juliet’s bedchamber preventing him from doing anything.
‘Perhaps you should go and answer that,’ he advised softly, as Juliet continued to stare up at him rather than respond to the persistence of a second knock.
‘Not before I am sure you understand it is my wish for you to stay well away from me in future!’ Her hands were clenched.
‘I understand.’ He gave her a terse inclination of his head.
Juliet gave him one last narrow-eyed look before turning sharply on her heel to enter her bedchamber, the softness of her slippers making little noise as she hurried across the room to open the door.
Sebastian stepped back into the shadows. No matter what Juliet might choose to think of him, it had never been his intention to involve her in the sort of scandal that his being found with her on the balcony of her bedchamber was sure to incur.
His brows rose as he saw that her late-night visitor was Dolly Bancroft ….
Juliet’s legs were still trembling as she quickly opened the door, and her breasts were quickly rising and falling in agitation from her time in Sebastian St Claire’s arms—on her balcony, of all places! So disorientated did Juliet feel that she could only stare blankly at Dolly as she stood in the dimly lit hallway, still dressed in her evening finery.
Her hostess looked slightly flustered. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Juliet, but there has been a slight accident.’
Was it Juliet’s imagination, or had Dolly Bancroft given a swift glance behind Juliet before speaking? As if she had suspected—no, expected!—that Juliet would not be alone in her bedchamber?
Dolly Bancroft was the person responsible, Juliet felt sure, for giving Sebastian St Claire the bedchamber next to hers. With those adjoining balconies!
Still in that spirit of ‘kindness’, perhaps …?
Her mouth thinned. ‘An accident?’ she enquired.
‘Your maid.’ Dolly reluctantly drew her attention from the bedchamber back to Juliet. ‘Her name is Helena, I believe?’
Juliet drew in a sharp breath at this mention of her cousin. ‘What has happened?’ she asked anxiously.
Dolly sighed. ‘The silly girl seems to have fallen on the stairs and injured her ankle.’
Was her cousin in pain? How badly was she injured? More importantly, had a doctor been called?
‘A footman has carried her up to her room, and one of my other guests—Mr Hallowell—is a physician. He has gone up to examine her even as we speak,’ Dolly Bancroft answered Juliet’s question before she even had the chance to voice it.
‘I must go to her,’ Juliet said.
‘I am sure there is no need for you to trouble yourself, Juliet.’ Dolly frowned at the suggestion. ‘Mr Hallowell is perfectly competent, I assure you.’
‘Nevertheless, I intend to go and see my—Helena for myself.’ Juliet turned to pick up a candle to light her way up the stairs to the servants’ quarters. ‘Surely it would have been better for you to have sent one of the servants to inform me, rather than abandoning your other guests?’
Dolly pursed her lips and her gaze no longer quite met Juliet’s. ‘I thought it best, in the circumstances, if I came and informed you myself.’
‘Circumstances?’ Juliet repeated dryly. ‘What might those be, Dolly?’
‘I—You—’ Dolly Bancroft looked uncharacteristically flustered. ‘I simply thought it best,’ she repeated briskly.
‘Dolly?’
The other woman was suddenly every inch the Countess of Banford as she paused to turn in the hallway and look at Juliet down the length of her pretty nose. ‘I really must return downstairs to my other guests now, Juliet.’
‘Of course.’ Her own manner was just as haughty. ‘In that case you and I will speak again in the morning, Lady Bancroft.’
Some of the starch left Dolly’s expression. ‘Why all this fuss, Juliet?’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Surely you must agree that St Claire is devilishly handsome?’ She laughed softly. ‘And, not only that, he is the lover that all the women of the ton secretly wish to have as their own!’
Juliet drew herself up to her little over five feet. ‘Then they are welcome to him!’ she announced.
‘Most of them would be only too happy if they could get him. Unfortunately they are not the object of Sebastian’s current interest.’ Dolly gave her a knowing look.
Juliet’s gaze faltered a little and her expression became wary. Was Dolly saying that it was she, in particular, whom St Claire desired? That actually, it was he who was the instigator of their adjoining bedchambers?
Of course Dolly was not saying that, Juliet instantly chided herself; she and His Lordship had not even been introduced until this evening, and the allocation of the bedchambers for the Bancroft guests would have been made long before that.
‘Lord St Claire’s interest in me is not particular,’ she informed the older woman frostily. ‘He is simply an opportunist. A man who sought to use my—my discomfort earlier this evening to his own advantage.’ Juliet’s eyes flashed as she recalled the way the young lord had invaded her balcony only minutes ago and dared to kiss her.
And he was probably on the balcony still—no doubt listening to every word of this conversation!
‘Lord St Claire is a renowned rake. Nothing but a seducer of women!’ Juliet added for good measure.
Sebastian was eavesdropping on the conversation between the two ladies with increasing displeasure. But he’d had no other choice than to remain, trapped as he was outside on the balcony of Juliet’s bedchamber. Any attempt to step back over the dividing ironwork would clearly display him to Dolly’s gaze. Yet this last accusation of Juliet’s was almost enough to make him step forward in protest—and in doing so give away his hiding place to the already suspicious Dolly.
Something Juliet would definitely not thank him for!
But the captivating Countess had to know that Sebastian was still outside on her balcony. Just as she must also be aware that he would overhear her every word. No, her every insult …
Sebastian had no idea at that moment whether he wished to soundly spank Lady Juliet Boyd’s delectable bottom, or just kiss her until she was weak and wanting in his arms! Or whether doing either of those things would bring that trapped look back into her eyes. The same expression Sebastian had seen and questioned a few minutes earlier ….