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‘As you wish, my dear.’ The Earl stepped forward to place a hand lightly beneath her elbow. ‘Tea for two, Groves,’ he instructed the butler lightly, before guiding Juliet down the hallway to his study.
Much to Sebastian’s chagrin, for once in his life he was completely at a loss to know what to do next where a woman was concerned.
He had allowed his desire for Juliet, when holding her aloft in his arms this morning, to overrule his awareness of that guardedness he sensed inside her, and had subsequently paid the price for that miscalculation when she’d walked off and left him. There had been no opportunity to see or speak to her since then.
Consequently, he sat broodingly at the dinner table that evening, watching Juliet down its length as she conversed easily and charmingly with Gray, sitting on one side of her, and the elderly and courtly Duke of Sussex on the other.
Sebastian’s censorious glance towards his hostess for this arrangement was met by a pointed glance in her husband’s direction, telling him that the Earl was the one responsible for the distance between Juliet and himself at the dinner table.
That Juliet had somehow succeeded in charming the Earl of Banford came as no surprise to Sebastian. Nor the fact that Gray and the Duke of Sussex seemed equally as enchanted by her company. What man could look at her—dressed this evening in a deep green silk gown, her hair an abundance of ebony curls, several of those curls temptingly loose against the long length of her creamy throat—and not be charmed?
Certainly not Sebastian. He found his hooded gaze shifting often in her direction as she chatted softly with her dining companions—whilst his own meal seemed to progress with excruciating slowness, and culminated in his imbibing far too much wine and not eating enough food.
If this continued he would be foxed before the meal even came to its painful end!
Even as Juliet responded to the polite dinner conversation of Lord Gideon Grayson, she was aware of St Claire’s dark and brooding gaze fixed upon her whenever she chanced to glance up.
‘Do not be too hard on him, Lady Boyd,’ Lord Grayson drawled, after one such irritated glance. ‘I assure you Sebastian is not usually so marked in his attentions,’ he added dryly as Juliet looked at him enquiringly.
She frowned her annoyance. ‘You are the second gentleman today to leap to his defence, sir!’
Gideon gave a rueful shrug. ‘Sebastian is a capital fellow.’
‘So I am informed,’ she said, obviously unimpressed.
‘But you still doubt it?’
Of course Juliet doubted it; so far in their acquaintance St Claire had tried—and failed—to seduce her at every opportunity that presented itself!
Lord Grayson raised his brows at her censorious expression. ‘Has it not occurred to you that perhaps you should be thanking Sebastian rather than cutting him so cruelly?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Thanking him for what, pray?’
‘Has your time here not been a little easier today? Your fellow guests a little less … cool in their manner towards you?’ he asked.
Juliet thought of the picnic lunch she had enjoyed earlier today—a picnic lunch that her tormentor had been noticeably absent from! Surprisingly, several of the ladies had included her in their conversation as their party sat in the shade of one of the oaks beside the river that ran through the extensive grounds of Banford Park.
‘I am sure you must be aware that Sebastian is considered something of a setter of fashion,’ Lord Grayson continued lightly. ‘If he has decided it is time to welcome you back into Society, then you may be assured the rest of the ton will quickly follow his example.’
‘And I suppose you are telling me that Lord St Claire was demonstrating that “welcome” earlier today, when he did not even have the good manners to introduce us properly?’ Juliet pointed out.
Lord Grayson looked at her for several seconds before answering. ‘No, I cannot claim Sebastian had your own comfort in mind at that time …’
‘Then—’
Lord Grayson looked rueful. ‘I believe I have already said too much.’ He lifted his wineglass and silently toasted her, before sipping some of the ruby-red liquid and turning to engage the young lady seated on his other side in conversation.
The Duke of Sussex took advantage of the younger man’s distraction to begin conversing with Juliet on the deplorable state of the country since the war against Napoleon had come to an end. Something the Duke seemed to assume Juliet had some interest in—possibly because of her husband’s involvement with the War Cabinet in the years before his death. Whatever the elderly man’s reasoning, his comments did not require any input from Juliet except for an occasional polite nod or smile. Giving Juliet ample time in which to ponder Lord Grayson’s last remarks to her.
The fact that he was a close friend of the irritating St Claire indicated to Juliet that his judgement lacked impartiality; as far as Juliet was concerned the arrogant and ridiculously self-assured Lord St Claire was the very last man in need of her gratitude or understanding—or indeed anyone else’s!
Certainly Juliet felt no such softening of her regard as she watched him approach her after dinner, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room. Juliet was not sure, but it seemed to her, by the reckless glitter in that whisky-coloured gaze and the slight flush to his cheeks, that His Lordship had imbibed far too much wine and port this evening to allow for even his usual questionable caution.
Indeed, that concern was borne out by the way he took a firm hold of her arm the moment he reached her side and urged, ‘Walk out onto the terrace with me, Juliet.’
‘I believe you would find it more beneficial to your current mood if you were to retire to your bedchamber, My Lord,’ she insisted in low icy tones, but her outward demeanour was one of smiling graciousness as she sensed they were once again the subject of curious eyes.
He arched dark brows. ‘Was that a proposition, Lady Boyd …?’
Juliet drew her breath in sharply. ‘You must know it was not!’ She gave him a warning glance from beneath lowered dark lashes.
‘One can but live in hope,’ he drawled, with a noticeable lack of concern.
The serene smile Juliet bestowed upon him was not matched by the angry glitter in her eyes. ‘Release me at once, sir, and cease this licentious behaviour!’ she hissed.
Sebastian frowned down at her. Juliet truly believed him to be foxed?
Admittedly Sebastian had been imbibing rather too freely during dinner, but he had put an end to that the moment he’d realised he felt a strong desire to stand up and walk the length of the room before grasping Gray by the throat and squeezing the life out of him—just because he, and not Sebastian, was the one sitting beside Juliet, and the recipient of one of her rare and beautiful smiles.
Strangling the life out of one of his best friends had not seemed to him to be a rational idea!
Sebastian felt no qualms, however, at the thought of using the fact that Juliet believed him to be foxed if it gave him the slightest advantage …
‘Only if you will agree to help me to my bedchamber …?’
She looked disconcerted by the suggestion. ‘You know that is not possible.’
He shrugged. ‘Then I will remain here and endeavour to dazzle you with my wit and charm.’
‘I assure you at this moment you do not possess either wit or charm!’
Sebastian grinned unabashedly at her vehemence. ‘Implying that I might when I am not foxed …?’
‘Implying that—’ Juliet broke off to eye him in utter frustration. ‘I really think it advisable if you retire to your room now, My Lord—before you do or say something you might later regret.’
‘And what might that be?’ He raised dark brows. ‘Kissing your hand, perhaps?’ He raised her gloved fingers towards his lips, but instead of the courtly kiss she was expecting, at the last moment Sebastian turned her hand and kissed the delicacy of her wrist, his fingers tightening about hers as she gasped and tried to pull sharply away. ‘No, I feel no regret,’ he murmured, after considering for a moment. ‘Perhaps if I were to take you fully into my arms and—’
‘I have reconsidered, Lord St Claire,’ she cut him off in alarm. ‘If you wish it I will see that you are safely delivered to the privacy of your bedchamber!’
He gave a seductive smile. ‘Oh, I most certainly wish it, my dear Juliet.’
‘Just remain here—endeavour to try not to get into any more mischief while I am gone!—and I will make your excuses to Lord and Lady Bancroft.’
‘And your own, dear Juliet,’ Sebastian advised softly.
Her mouth tightened. ‘I will be but a few minutes.’
Could it really be so easy? Sebastian wondered, watching as Juliet gracefully crossed the room to talk quietly with their host and hostess. Of course she did believe him to be more than slightly the worse for drink, and so perhaps incapable of attempting her seduction once they were alone … A completely erroneous assumption—as the rapid hardening of Sebastian’s thighs just at the thought of making love to Juliet testified only too well!
Not that he would seduce her before he had apologised for his behaviour this morning, of course. One should not even attempt to make love to a woman who was as displeased as Juliet still appeared to be.
Sebastian’s gaze narrowed with displeasure as he watched his host stroll the length of the room to his side, whilst Juliet remained in conversation with Dolly Bancroft.
The Earl raised mocking brows. ‘Lady Boyd seems to feel you may be indisposed, St Claire?’
‘Lady Boyd is—’ He broke off, his mouth tightening in frustration at the neat way Juliet had outmanoeuvred him.
‘A very beautiful but equally mysterious young lady,’ Lord Bancroft finished for him, not even attempting to hide his amusement at the other man’s predicament.
Sebastian’s gaze focused on his host. ‘Mysterious …?’
The older man gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘There are certain inconsistencies to the Countess that I find … questionable, shall we say?’
Sebastian’s unhappiness with this conversation increased. ‘Is it not impolite of you to discuss one of your guests in this way?’
‘Do not attempt to tell me how to behave in my own home, St Claire!’ The usual good humour had left Lord Bancroft’s eyes, and his gaze had become steely. ‘Considering your own continued interest in the Countess, you and I perhaps need to talk further,’ he stated. ‘Would ten o’clock in my study tomorrow morning suit you?’
Sebastian looked irritated. ‘What is this all about, Bancroft?’
‘Not here, St Claire.’ The cordial smile returned to his host’s lips, and the tension left his shoulders as he once again looked his usual amiable self. ‘Dolly is about to propose a game of charades. I suggest you join us,’ Lord Bancroft said lightly, before leaving to return to his wife’s side.
Sebastian, as any man who valued his reputation as a gentleman of fashion, would as soon take a walk to the gallows as engage in a game of charades. Besides, he was too disturbed by Bancroft’s strange behaviour just now to concentrate on such inanity.
Juliet, Sebastian noted, also remained as a spectator to the game rather than a participant. She had moved to stand near one of the sets of French doors that had been opened out onto the terrace to allow the warm evening air into the drawing room, completely ignoring Sebastian’s existence as she gave every appearance of enjoying the fun as their fellow guests made complete cakes of themselves.
So intent was Juliet’s attention on the party game that she did not even notice when Sebastian slipped out of the matching set of doors further down the drawing room and made his way silently across the terrace to where Juliet stood, chuckling at Gray’s antics as she leant against one of the velvet drapes.
Totally oblivious of Sebastian standing directly behind her ….
This second evening at Banford Park had definitely been easier to bear than the first, Juliet decided. She was enjoying watching the game of charades—not taking part, but certainly not feeling excluded, either.
Because, as Lord Grayson claimed, St Claire had set the example he wished his peers to follow by making her socially acceptable once more?
Grateful as she was for a slight melting of the frost that had previously been shown to her, it was not quite within Juliet to allow that the outrageous Lord St Claire and his marked attentions towards her were indeed responsible for that change. Even if they were, he need not have been so persistent in his interest—especially as she had given him every indication that she wished him to cease all such attentions. Besides, there had been no one else but themselves present when he’d intruded onto her balcony yesterday evening. Or when he’d invaded the privacy of her bedchamber this morning.
Juliet became very still as she felt something touch the exposed nape of her neck. A fly, perhaps? Or possibly a bee …
‘Do not turn around, Juliet,’ Sebastian St Claire urged huskily, just as she would have done so.
Juliet stiffened. St Claire was standing directly behind her, in the shadow of the curtained doorway. Juliet’s wide-eyed glance about the room showed that none of the other guests seemed in the least aware of his presence.
He was standing so close to her that Juliet could feel the heat of his body through the thin material of her gown. As she had yesterday evening, Juliet also smelled the sharp tang of male cologne and the cigar he must have smoked earlier with his port.
The fact that he was standing so close to her implied that the feather-light touch she had felt against her nape had very likely been St Claire’s fingertips against her bare flesh …!
She flicked her fan open, bringing it up in front of her mouth so that their conversation would not be visible to the other guests. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ she whispered fiercely.
‘Something I have been longing to do since Dolly interrupted us yesterday evening,’ came St Claire’s unapologetic reply. ‘Did you know that your skin is as soft as velvet?’ Once again those fingertips caressed the length of her nape.
Juliet was instantly aware of that quivering sensation once more as those fingers ran the length of her spine. Just as she had the previous evening, Juliet wondered whether it could be pleasure she was feeling. Certainly no one else had ever made her feel such a warmth and tingling in her body before. It was not an unpleasant feeling, and nor was she repulsed as she had always been whenever Edward had touched her.
On the contrary, that warm and tingling sensation was now spreading across her shoulders and down into her breasts …
‘Has anyone ever likened your hair to the colour and texture of sable?’ he murmured, and she couldn’t suppress a tiny shiver as the warmth of his breath moved the curls at her nape.
It was strangely disturbing to have him standing behind her like this and for no one else in the drawing room to be aware of it. Again, this was not an unpleasant feeling—more of a deliciously wicked one that Juliet could enjoy without feeling any regret or embarrassment.
‘Does your skin taste as good as it feels, I wonder …?’ he whispered.
Juliet gasped, and her back arched involuntarily as she felt the softness of his chiselled lips against her nape, those quivers down her body increasing in urgency as she felt the gentle rasp of his tongue against the bareness of her flesh.
‘Mmm, it tastes even better than it feels,’ he murmured appreciatively as he alternately kissed and licked a heated path down the length of her spine. That path came to a halt as he reached the top of her gown. ‘May I …?’ he asked huskily.
Juliet was too hot, too confused by the strange clamouring of emotions she was feeling, to immediately comprehend his meaning. By the time she did understand what he was asking Sebastian had already unfastened most of the buttons down the back of her gown!
‘I ask that you do not turn around, Juliet,’ Sebastian reiterated as she once again made an attempt to do so, placing his hands firmly upon her shoulders to accompany this reminder as he held her in place. ‘I wish for you to remain exactly as you are so that I might … explore.’
Juliet’s gaze moved wildly about the drawing room, but no one was paying her—or consequently him, where he stood hidden by the drapes—any attention. They remained engrossed in their party game.
Having Sebastian touch her in this way was so sinfully wicked that Juliet could not possibly allow him to continue. Could she …? Yet with her gown unbuttoned down her back did she really have any choice but to remain standing exactly as she was?
Did she even want a choice?
Juliet could not deny that she felt a curiosity. A wanting. An aching to know if the sensations she was feeling really were pleasure.
Juliet gasped again as she felt the heat of Sebastian’s hands about her waist. Only the thin material of her silk chemise separated those hands from her bare flesh. That gasp became a tiny moan as his hands shifted beneath the loose material of her high-waisted gown to move caressingly upwards to just below the pertness of her breasts.
‘Shh, sweet …’ Sebastian murmured soothingly.
How could Juliet possibly remain silent when those hands touched her so intimately? When she could feel her nipples become engorged in anticipation of caresses yet to come?
She felt a warm flooding between her thighs as Sebastian continued to touch her just beneath her breasts. A hot dampness in her most secret place. A clenching spasm deep inside her as Sebastian’s hands trailed a slow path from her breasts down to her waist and then back again.
‘You must stop, Sebastian!’ she protested agonisingly from behind her fan. Her knees seemed in danger of buckling beneath her.
His only reply was to tighten his hands about her waist as he held her more firmly in place and his lips explored the bareness of her shoulder, licking, gently sucking.
Juliet was in no doubt now—this was pleasure!
Unimaginable, indescribable pleasure.
It was a sensation unlike any Juliet had ever known before.
A sensation she wanted to continue ….
Sebastian knew that he should stop. That he must stop soon or risk exposing them both to a scandal that the ton would never forgive or forget.
But finally being able to kiss Juliet, to touch her, to feel her pleasure in his caresses, to hear her little panting breaths and feel the response of her body, was feeding his own desire, so making it impossible for Sebastian to do anything other than continue the wild, illicit caresses.
Her skin smelt of spring flowers and tasted like silken honey as he continued to explore its smoothness with his lips, feeling the arch of Juliet’s back as he ran his tongue down the ridges of her spine. Her bottom was pressed against him, and the hardness of his throbbing, aching arousal fitted perfectly against her.
That Juliet was completely naked beneath her chemise Sebastian had no doubt, and he allowed one of his hands to glide lower down over her stomach, to cup her between her parted legs. He was able to feel her dampness through the thin material that was the only barrier to his questing fingers.
A barrier Sebastian pushed impatiently aside, skilfully drawing the material of her chemise up to her waist.
Growling low in his throat, he was finally able to touch, to explore the soft and downy thatch where the hard bud of her arousal was hidden.
She was swollen.
So swollen.
And so responsive as Sebastian lightly stroked, above and below, never quite touching that engorged nubbin as his fingers became wet and slick.
‘Please …!’ Juliet’s groan was so low and aching that Sebastian felt a leaping response between his own thighs. ‘I want—Sebastian—I need—’
Sebastian knew what she wanted, what she needed, what she craved.
What he craved, too.
But not here.
How could either of them enjoy complete pleasure when they were standing here so publicly?
When anyone in the room might turn at any moment and see them together?
Juliet’s slippered feet no longer touched the floor as Sebastian placed a strong arm about her waist, and she felt herself being lifted, carried backwards out of the room and into the dark shadows of the terrace before he lowered her to turn her in his arms. His mouth claimed hers hungrily.
The new, craving sensations in Juliet’s body caused her to return the hunger of that kiss as she silently pleaded, begged for an end to the tormenting, unbearable ache between her thighs.
Her lips parted to the hard invasion of Sebastian’s tongue, and those moist, rhythmic caresses once again pushed her to the brink of—Of what …?
Juliet didn’t know.
But she wanted to know.
She needed to know!
‘… was most enjoyable. But I am so warm after all the excitement that I simply must go outside and take some air.’
Juliet barely had time to register that she and Sebastian were about to have their privacy interrupted before he wrenched his mouth from hers to place silencing fingertips against her lips. He swiftly manoeuvred her backwards, even further into the shadows.
Only just in time, too, as the elderly Duchess and Duke of Sussex strolled out onto the terrace before crossing to stand at the balustrade.
Juliet looked up in the gloom at Sebastian face, to find the darkness of his gaze glittering down at her.
In laughter, or in triumph?
Chapter Five
‘Personally, I fail to see what is so funny in the two of us nearly being found together in such a compromising situation.’ Juliet stood in the middle of her bedchamber, frowning her consternation as Sebastian, having refastened her gown for her, stood before her, clutching his sides with laughter. ‘Lord St Claire, you must desist!’ She glared at him reprovingly when her previous admonition had no effect.
His laughter finally ceased, although his eyes continued to gleam with merriment as he looked at her, and a grin still curved those sculptured lips. ‘I apologise. I simply found myself imagining how the Duke’s jowls would wobble and the Duchess’s mouth gape open like that of a fish if they had happened to turn and see us as we made good our escape!’
‘That is most unkind, My Lord.’ Although Juliet could not deny that their flight from the terrace had been in the nature of an escape.
The Duke and Duchess of Sussex had stood at the balustrade for several minutes, talking softly together on the success of the evening, before the Duchess had linked her arm with her husband’s and the two had begun to walk down the terrace.
Thankfully in the other direction from where Juliet and Sebastian had still been hiding in the shadows.
An occurrence which had caused Sebastian to take a firm clasp of Juliet’s hand before pulling her down the steps into the garden, to stride around to the side of the house.
And all that time Juliet had clutched at the front of her unbuttoned gown in an effort to stop it sliding completely from her body, her mood one of horror as she imagined what a pretty sight she would look, with her gown about her ankles and wearing no more than her chemise and her stockings!
Luckily that had not happened, and the two of them had been able to find access to the house through one of the servant doors. They had then proceeded to sneak through the house and up the back staircase to Juliet’s bedchamber. Much like two thieves in the night!
Juliet knew she had never behaved in such an undignified manner in the whole of her thirty years. And as for finding the situation amusing, as Sebastian St Claire so obviously did …!
‘Can you not imagine it, my dear Juliet?’ he prompted with an irrepressible smile. ‘The Duke’s jowls a-wobbling and the Duchess opening and shutting her mouth like a fish!’ He went off into another bout of laughter.