Scandal's Daughter Page 6

  "Tell me you'll be here again tomorrow," he said, stepping closer to her as he placed her hands against his chest. She looked up at him and nodded before she could even consider the answer. She ought to run, she knew she should. She could throw away her whole life if anyone discovered her here with him. She would be ruined beyond saving. He smiled, obviously pleased that she would come, and why shouldn't he be. He was risking nothing, just enjoying a dalliance with a sweet country girl before he left and went back to London and the glamorous life he lived there. He ducked his head and pressed one last sweet kiss against her mouth and then whispered to her.

  "Maid of Athens, ere we part, give, oh give me back my heart. Or, since that has left my breast, keep it now, and take the rest."

  She threw back her head, laughing and he gave her an offended look. "Well I see there is no pleasing you! You accuse me of having no heart and an unromantic soul and when I spout poetry as every fair maiden would desire, you laugh in my face!"

  She covered her mouth with her hand, by now quite unable to stop herself as he looked increasingly torn between amusement and vexation.

  "Oh, do forgive me," she managed, wiping her eyes. "That was unforgivable, and after you said it so prettily too."

  "Well now you're just patronising me!" he said with a huff. He gave a dispirited shake of his head, though she could still see the laughter in his eyes. "I shall never declare myself again."

  "No," she said, still smiling, though for her at least the humour of the situation had vanished as she had no such illusions about the validity of his words.

  He frowned, sensing the change in her demeanour.

  "What is it? You think I play you false I suppose?"

  She shook her head and then reached up and kissed his cheek. "I think there is much you would give me, my Lord," she said, her voice quiet. "But I am not fool enough to believe your heart is among them." She cast him one last smile before turning her back and walking away.

  "I will see you tomorrow," he called out to her, though she offered him no reply, just walked back the way she had come with her own heart full of apprehension and turmoil.

  ***

  Sebastian watched her walk away from him and wondered what in the name of God he was playing at. He had never taken his own position lightly or used it to abuse others. Seducing a well bred young lady who was clearly intent on landing herself a duke was not beyond him, but taking the innocence of a sweet girl who knew well he had no intentions of ever offering her marriage, that was quite another.

  He should have never begun this dangerous game. Yes she had more to lose than he did of course, but he couldn't pretend that he was in no danger. He had never been so captivated by a woman before and he couldn't precisely say what it was about her that appealed so strongly to him. Perhaps the way she laughed and teased him and refused to be flattered. Maybe it was her forthright way of putting him in his place and showing she was unimpressed with his romantic declarations, believing them to be nothing more than part of the scenery set for her own seduction. He wondered what she would say if she knew he had meant those words?

  ***

  The next three days followed much the same pattern, though Sebastian tried his hardest to be a gentleman and take things no further than he had before. But damn it was a hard thing to do. They talked of course, they spoke about so many things. In fact he couldn't ever remember finding anyone so easy to converse with. And yet in the end words couldn't be enough and he found himself lost in her kiss. It was after one such afternoon that he returned to find Jeffries waiting for him in the stables as usual.

  He had already grown used to the ragging from his friends who gathered he had found some lusty wench nearby who had attracted his interest. He just grinned at them and let them believe it, better that than tell the truth - whatever the truth might be. Instinctively he shied away from it, not wanting to look too close. But Jeffries had known him since he was a baby and there was something in those shrewd eyes that told him he was found out.

  He tossed his jacket over the side of the stall in a manner that would make his valet weep, before rolling up his sleeves and getting to work rubbing down his horse, Azor. Although he could easily have left the work as being far beneath him, and indeed he didn't always volunteer, Jeffries had instilled a work ethic in him from his earliest days. If he wanted to know about horses, to really know, then he need to know everything, not just toss his reins to a waiting groom the moment he was done.

  If he had hoped to distract his old mentor from his purpose, however, by pleasing him in such a way, it was soon clear he'd fallen short of the mark. The man's stony silence was a sure indicator that there was something on his mind, but Sebastian knew him well enough to know he'd say nothing unless he was invited to. Jeffries would never speak out of turn to his master, oh no. He'd just bludgeon him into submission with his silent scowl until Sebastian was begging him to tell him what the problem was.

  "Alright, out with it," he said, dropping the curry comb and reaching for a soft brush. He glanced up to see real concern in the older man's eyes and hesitated. "Really, Jeffries, what is it?"

  Jeffries ran one large, calloused hand through his hair and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I don't know, your Grace. It's ... well it's not my place to say is it?"

  Sebastian snorted and began to brush Azor with long, firm strokes. The horse whickered and twitched appreciatively, turning his head to nudge Sebastian with his silky muzzle. "Well it's never stopped you before to my knowledge."

  To his surprise Jeffries stepped closer to him and Sebastian watched as he reached out and plucked something from his linen shirt. It was a long, fine hair.

  "Red," Jeffries said, looking at it and shaking his head with a troubled expression.

  Sebastian laughed, wondering what on earth had got into the man. "You have something against red heads?"

  "Aye," he said, his tone bitter. "As it was a red-headed bitch who ruined your father, that I do."

  Sebastian stilled. He knew well enough the story of his father's demise. Knew the name of the woman who had seduced him away from his wife and only son, and ultimately led him to his death. He hadn't known what she looked like though, other than that she was a beauty of course.

  "I see the look in your eyes," Jeffries said, as foreboding prickled over Sebastian's skin. "He looked like that when it began. Like he needed her to breathe, like he couldn't sit easy in his own skin unless he was with her."

  "Don't be foolish, man," Sebastian replied, returning to his job and trying hard to consign Jeffries words to some distant place where he needn't consider them. "Just because the girl has red hair it doesn't mean I'm about to fight a duel over her. Neither of us is married for one." Damn. He hadn't meant that information to escape him. He sighed and looked up, meeting Jeffries' eyes. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But I will be gone from here soon enough. It is simply ... a pleasant dalliance, nothing more." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue but he hadn't quite realised how untrue it was until the words had been forced from him. How in God's name was he going to leave her? The idea made his gut clench.

  "I was there that night, your Grace. I was there the night he killed Baron Dalton and had to flee with that woman. He made me swear to protect you, to always look out for you and dammit I've tried my best and I'm trying now. Let's us leave this place today. Go back to London," he urged. "Or home to Marlburgh, wherever you like, only get away from her because I have a bad feeling about this."

  Sebastian turned and looked at him, laughing and forcing a smile, both of which felt utterly fake. "Superstitious nonsense, man," he said, clapping Jeffries on the back. "I have no intention of following in my father's scandalous footsteps, I assure you. Now do stop fretting like an old woman and help me rub this fellow down as I'm half starved and I need a drink."

  "Aye, your Grace, whatever you say," Jeffries said, frowning. "But you mark my words, lad, nothing good will come of it."

  Chapter 8

  "Wherei
n hearts, minds and the future become tangled."

  Sebastian ignored Jeffries’ dark look as he left the stables the next day, but the warning was harder to dispel. He'd considered not going to meet Georgiana today, and dismissed the idea a bare second later. He couldn't. He would have to say goodbye to her very soon in any case. He wouldn't hasten the day. The very idea of leaving and never seeing her again made an ache bloom in his chest that he was having trouble identifying. He'd never had a problem ending love affairs before. Why it should suddenly become a problem now, he couldn't fathom.

  He drew Azor up and looked over the rugged view spread out before him. He liked the landscape here, as uncompromising as it was. It had a harsh beauty that appealed to him, and now, all dressed in autumn colours, it was the perfect backdrop for his fiery Georgiana.

  He felt that strange ache in his chest again and rubbed at it with the heel of his hand. If only she was from a better family. He could have overlooked her lack of fortune, he had wealth enough after all. But he couldn't ignore the responsibility he bore the family name. In any case his mother would have one of her spasms and probably never recover if he had the temerity to bring home a mere doctor's daughter. The dowager duchess had already given him a list of eligible women, it was what had driven him to try and make a list of his own. In the end, however, he had been forced to concede that the next duchess would likely be as plain and dull as she was well bred. Their kind didn't marry for love though, for power and land and money, but never for love. It was his duty, a duty that had been driven home to him since he had been old enough to understand the concept, and he wouldn't shirk it. No matter if it made him sick to the stomach.

  But anticipation stirred in his blood as he arrived at their meeting place and he leapt down, loosening Azor's girth and leaving him to crop the grass while he paced, waiting impatiently for Georgiana to arrive. Looking up at the soft sound of footsteps he watched as she appeared out of the tree line. With red tinted leaves tumbling around her and the countryside glowing copper and gold, she looked like the goddess of autumn with her Titian curls framing her face. He felt his breath catch, and as she walked closer with Conrad bounding around her feet and barking with joy, he felt he would forever remember this moment, a memory caught in amber that he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

  He held out his hands and she ran to meet him, holding out her own, but when she drew close he swept her up, laughing and spinning her around. When he put her down she stumbled, dizzy and delighted as he pulled her close. Staring at those hazel eyes so full of laughter, and her cheeks prettily flushed and with the faintest scattering of freckles, he knew leaving her would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

  "What is it?" she asked, reaching a hand up to his cheek. He leaned into it, turning his head to kiss her palm and shaking his head.

  "Nothing."

  "It's not nothing," she said, her voice quiet. "You were thinking that you must leave soon."

  Her quiet acceptance of it made his heart clench. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, surprised at how gruff he sounded.

  "I don't want to think about it either," she said, and he could hear the sorrow in her voice. "But you will go, and ... and I won't see you again. I know that ..."

  "Don't!" he cried out and turned away from her, running a hand through his hair.

  He felt her hand on his shoulder, felt it slide down his arm, until her soft fingers wrapped around his.

  "Come, Beau. I will weep for a long time after you've gone I promise you. But there is no point in pretending it will be otherwise. We knew it from the start after all. A Marquis has no business marrying a girl with no name and no fortune. You must go and find yourself a wealthy heiress, and I will content myself with the idea that she will be dull and ugly."

  He heard the catch in her voice, heard the effort she was making to be light hearted, no doubt thinking that he would be disgusted if she wept over him and pleaded for him to stay. Indeed, if she had been any other of his lovers she would have been perfectly correct. But now he wanted her to cry and beg him to stay, because he wanted to do it, foolish as it was. He wanted to stay so badly that it frightened him and Jeffries' words came back to haunt him all over again. He wished, apart from anything else, to hear her say his name.

  How foolish he had been to want to be Beau, to want her to know from the outset that he wouldn't care for her, that he would likely ruin her and move on. Not that he was doing anything other than that, he was toying with her life, her future. If he truly cared for her he would go away now, before he did any more damage. But he was far too selfish after all.

  He turned around and saw sadness glimmering in the pretty hazel eyes that stared up at him.

  "I will never, never forget you," he whispered. "I swear it."

  She smiled and stepped closer to him, one hand pressed against his chest. "I'm glad, for I could never forget you either. I ..." She stopped with a blush staining her cheeks and looked down.

  "What?" he demanded, tilting her head back to look at him, wanting her to say it, even though it was selfish and cruel to take any more from her.

  She shook her head and smiled at him, though it was forlorn. "No," she said, and the teasing look he loved so well gleamed in her eyes now. "You are quite conceited enough I think, without giving you another victory." She gave him a coquettish look before walking away a little, glancing at him over her shoulder. "It's not as if you don't know it."

  He ran after her and tumbled her down into the grass as she laughed and pretended to fight him off.

  "Release me, you fiend," she huffed, pretending to be cross with him as he pinned her down and desire rose through him like a tide. She stilled, seeing the truth of it in his eyes.

  "No," she whispered, reading him with ease. "You know I cannot."

  He didn't pretend to misunderstand her, or to argue the fact. He simply ducked his head and kissed her, relishing the way she responded to him, knowing that she kissed like she did because he had taught her well. The idea that she would one day practise such skills on another man made fury and jealousy ignite in his blood and he held her tighter. Forcing her knees apart with his own he settled between them, letting her feel the weight of him as he kissed her with rising need, as though he would cease to be if he stopped now. He moved his lips from her mouth and trailed a path down her jaw, down her neck, hearing her breathing coming fast and hot against his skin. His mouth moved on, restless, seeking, as he found the soft swell of her breasts and trailed his tongue over the silky mounds.

  Dropping one hand he gathered up the soft muslin of her dress in his fingers and tugged it higher, exposing her skin until her skirts revealed one shapely thigh. His hand slid over her knee, moving over her skin and slipping under the fabric as she caught her breath.

  "No," she murmured, sounding troubled and restive as she writhed beneath him, pushing his hand away. "Please, Beau."

  Sebastian, he raged inwardly, my name is Sebastian. Though he didn't stop but shook off her grasp and allowed his questing fingers to explore beneath her skirts, shifting his position until he sought out the little thatch of curls between her thighs as she gasped in shock.

  "Please don't," she whispered, clutching at his arm as he looked down at her, seeing desire in her eyes just as fierce as his own. If he was any kind of gentleman he would stop now.

  "Please, love," he begged, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Let me touch you."

  She swallowed and stilled, and though he hated himself he was driven to continue, seeking out the tiny nub of flesh that would bring her pleasure. Caressing, touching her so, so gently, he felt her breathing hitch as he returned his lips to hers, kissing her again. Tenderly this time, he explored the silky warmth of her mouth as her breathing grew more ragged, as her body twitched and shifted beneath him.

  "Do you like that?" he whispered against her mouth as he slid one finger inside her, caressing still with small, careful movements.

  "I ..." she began and stopped, staring
up at him, fear and desire tangled together in her eyes. He watched her as the pleasure began to build, as her eyes grew hazy and she moaned, small, urgent sounds that made his own body tighten further.

  "Let go," he urged, desperate to see her pleasure. He would have this much from her at least, before he left. "Let it take you over." He spoke the words against her skin as he slid another finger inside her and felt her body respond. She was slick and hot and he was so desperate to sink inside of her and find his own release, but he continued to stroke and caress as her body sang with tension. She clutched at him, one hand pulling at his hair as her head tilted back and she arched beneath him. Her body clenched around his fingers as she bucked and gasped and cried out and desire sang through him as he watched her come apart in his arms.

  ***

  Georgiana fought for breath, gasping as pleasure and panic rolled over her in equal measure. She no longer knew what kind of creature she was. She felt betrayed somehow by her own skin. She had known he was going too far, taking too much and yet her flesh had demanded that he continue as he invaded her most intimate places.

  She knew now, how it was he had gained such a reputation. For even as every argument for good sense had been put forth by her poor, desperate mind her body had rejected them with no more than a feeble protest passing her lips. Even now, with the traces of pleasure still fizzing in her veins and her body languid and sated, it wasn't enough.

  There was a strange, dull ache inside her, a hollow feeling that hungered for more, for him. Instinctively she knew this was ground she could not set foot upon if she didn't want to end her days alone. If she gave herself to him she would be ruined and no matter that the desire to do just that burned like a brand inside her. That she couldn't do.