A Matter of Sin (8 page)

To Seth’s never-ending annoyance, Isabel blushed and smiled at the other gentleman. “You are too kind, sir.”

“He only speaks the truth,” Foxfire inserted swiftly. “Any man would be lucky to take the dance floor with you. Perhaps I could add my own name to your dance card.”

Seth moved forward and took Isabel’s arm. “Very good, but I believe the lady owes me the next. Good evening, gentlemen.”

He moved off, guiding Isabel with him, but to his surprise, the moment they were out of earshot, she extracted herself from his grip with another dark glare.

“My lord, you must be mistaken. I never agreed to dance with you,” she hissed beneath her breath so that no one else would hear the exchange.

He blinked. “What?”

“You asked me to dance, but I never said yes. In fact, I
said
I needed to check on my sister. Now if you will excuse me, Lord Lyndham.”

With that, she turned her back on him and walked away. Seth watched her go in stunned silence. He didn’t think a woman had ever refused him before. Certainly not one whom he had kissed not even twenty-four hours before.

Isabel made her way through the crowd, but to Seth’s surprise she did not make a turn toward her sister. Instead, she left the room and headed down the hallway and out of sight.

Jason’s voice rang in his head as Seth stood there.
Get her out of your mind
. Well, there was only one way to do that.

Follow her.

Chapter Eight

“A man’s hands are telling instruments.”—
The Ladies Book of Pleasures

Isabel stumbled into the first parlor she came to and finally allowed herself to stop moving. Her heart raced and she clutched her hands over it, ringing them together as she struggled to calm down. Her emotions were out of control and she had behaved quite foolishly because of that. She blushed when she thought of what she had said and done and worse…
felt
.

Even after their frank discussion earlier that day, she had been unable to control her jealousy as she observed Seth at the ball. Watching him chat with other women, dance with them, smile at them,
court
them… It brought out a strange possessiveness in her.

Strange and foolish, since he in no way was bound to her. In fact, they had agreed that any attraction they felt for each other was one they had to ignore. He could do that. Quite easily.

But it turned out she
couldn’t
. That desire taunted her and followed her and made itself known in the worst and ugliest ways. So she found herself angry and out of sorts.

Denying Seth his request for a dance was the only childish way she could express those unwarranted feelings. Even if it didn’t reflect well upon her to be so peevish.

She smoothed her hands over the silky fabric of her gown as she drew in deep breaths. A few more moments to collect herself and she would return to the ballroom and carry on as if nothing had happened. Later, perhaps, she would apologize to her host and that would be the end of it.

She heard the door behind her close and spun toward it with a gasp of surprise. One she repeated when she saw that the person who had intruded upon her moment of self-reflection was Seth.

“I thought you were checking on your sister, that that was why you couldn’t dance with me,” he drawled as he leaned back against the barrier that now separated them from both propriety and the safety of other people. He cocked his head. “I don’t see your sister here. Unless she is hiding behind the drapery.”

Isabel folded her arms so he wouldn’t see her hands shake. “Of course not. I simply needed a moment to myself.”

“So I am intruding?” Seth asked as he took a long step toward her.

Isabel forced herself to take one of equal distance back. “It is your home and you can go wherever you like, of course, but yes, I would prefer to be alone.”

“But you weren’t alone tonight,” he said, his tone low but somehow still accusatory.

Isabel shook her head, truly confused by that statement. “What?”

“You heard me,” he pressed. “You were anything but alone.”

“I don’t understand. I stood with Serena a while and Grace, but—”

“You
danced
,” he interrupted. “And you have been surrounded by men, leering,
wanting
men, for the entire evening.”

Isabel’s eyes went wide. This was the one conversation she had never thought to have. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“You
told
me you wouldn’t dance with me because you were here as a chaperone to your sister,” he pressed, moving forward again. “But you danced with at least three other men who I counted.”

Isabel swallowed. He had been
counting
her partners? Why, that implied that he was every bit as jealous of her evening as she had been of his.

“You are one to talk,” she managed to squeak out. “I did not go so far as to count your partners, but there were a great many women who took a turn around the ballroom floor in your arms.”

A lie. There had been fifteen. She
had
been counting.

Seth’s shook his head. “Every woman I danced with had some purpose. Either she is a potential bride or a chaperone whose good graces it is imperative I court.”

Isabel stared at him a moment. “How very romantic of you, sir. To dance with all those women with a
purpose
.”

His eyes narrowed. “And are you saying the dances you engaged in had none? Were you not looking at the men who partnered you, the ones who brought you punch, who all but drooled all over you, as potential lovers for when your sister’s situation is resolved?”

Isabel’s mouth dropped open at his statement and she drew back slightly. “How
dare
you, Lord Lyndham? When I made that slip of the tongue in your garden and told you I was thinking of taking a lover in the future, it was told to you in confidence. I never thought you would throw it in my face later in order to soothe your somehow ruffled ego.”

Seth continued to advance on her and his face was growing increasingly angry. “So you admit that you were considering them as lovers?”

She folded her arms. She hadn’t been doing anything of sort, of course. Sir Gregory and Lord Monthaven were very nice gentlemen, but they stirred no interest whatsoever in her. However, she had
no
intention of telling Seth that.

“And why shouldn’t I consider them?”

He threw up his hands in apparent disgust. “Great God, Isabel, you could do leagues better than either of those old men. Just because your husband was well your senior doesn’t mean that you should find some brittle old coot to warm your bed now.”

Isabel turned her face, stung just as strongly as she would have been if he had slapped her. The heat of embarrassment filled her cheeks.

“
That
was incredibly ungentlemanly of you,” she whispered as she edged past him in a move toward the door.

He didn’t allow for her escape, though. As she stepped by him, he caught her arm and dragged her closer, holding her gently but steadily as he looked down into her eyes. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. Within his gaze there was an intensity of both feeling and desire, and she couldn’t help but shiver despite her anger at him for his brutish behavior.

“You are correct,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It was an ungentlemanly way to behave. As is this.”

With that, he dropped his head and for the second time in as many nights, Isabel felt his warm, firm lips against hers. Last night, they had been gentle, seductive and coaxing. Tonight it was different. There was a stronger demand to the way his fingers curled around her arm, the way his tongue breached her lips, the way he deepened the kiss almost instantly.

Isabel tried quite desperately to cling to her frustration and anger with him. To recall all the very good reasons she had to deny him and this and all the dangerous places the embrace could lead.

Unfortunately, she failed. As soon as his tongue touched hers, as soon as she tasted the whiskey and the desire on his lips, all rationality and reason floated away. She lifted her hands up to grip his arms. She arched into him with a muffled moan of relief that was as lost within his mouth as she was.

His fingers loosened their grip on her arms and instead found their way around her back. He cradled her against him, rocking her forward until her body molded against his, his chest to her chest, hip to hip. She gasped when she felt the hard angle of his erection pressed firmly against her abdomen.

It had been years since she felt that kind of reaction in a man… She had forgotten how powerful it made her feel. How womanly.

Her knees wobbled, and Isabel held tighter to Seth’s arms. He finally broke their heated kiss, though his lips remained close to hers, close enough that their breath mingled and his heat wrapped around her.

“Let me,” he whispered as he guided her backward until she felt the settee behind her knees. She sank down without argument, and he settled onto the narrow couch beside her. Once they were positioned comfortably, his mouth returned to hers.

Now that she no longer had to think about staying upright, Isabel trembled. She was so hot and shaky and needy that she feared there would be no relief from those sensations, that she would exist like this forever. She arched against Seth hopelessly, reaching for deeper pleasure, for release of any kind.

He looked down at her, his face taut with tension, as if he were pondering this action…this indiscretion. The wanton in her trembled as she prayed he would come to the same needy conclusion she had.

Finally, he gave her what she desired and returned his mouth to hers. He slid his fingers down her throat and lower, pausing to cup one soft, rounded breast. As pleasure mobbed her, Isabel let out a small cry and her back arched further.

He groaned at the response and slid his hand down further until he found the hem of her silken gown. Slowly, he inched the fabric up, up until he settled his trembling fingers against the warmth of her stocking-clad knee.

Isabel started. Now that he touched her so intimately, she realized what a position she was in. Sprawled across a settee in a public room of Seth’s estate, his body partially covering hers, her skirt around her waist and his hand gliding upward in slow, steady strokes—if they were caught it would be devastating.

Her mind gave her one last option to end this. To recall duty and reason. But she couldn’t. She had come so far now that she couldn’t think of getting up. Her legs might not support her even if she wanted to run.

So instead, she looked down. She was mesmerized by the image of Seth’s dark hand against her body. He stroked upward to her inner thigh and his skin met with her bare skin for the first time. She gasped at the sensation, and her sheath clenched in preparation for more. She was shaking, on the edge, and she wanted to fall over it more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life.

Seth gave what she desired. He cupped her sex, and now it was he who gasped when he found she wore no undergarments. His hooded gaze snagged hers in question and she flushed.

“The gown is fitted such that undergarments look wrong beneath it,” she explained.

He smiled as he settled his hand to cover her swollen lower lips. She twitched at the warmth of his fingers.

“Do you mean that all night you have been bare like this beneath your dress?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear. He pressed a hot kiss behind it and sensation rocked through her body until she couldn’t hold back a deep, low moan. “How marvelous. Had I known, I would have chased you into a parlor sooner.”

Isabel shivered and her hips lifted slightly. Seth stopped smiling and she felt his finger trace her entrance, lightly marking out the path he would take to breach her. She felt the ridge of his nail drag gently against her sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t help a second moan of pleasure.

He spread her open and then his finger brushed the length of her sex, hesitating when he found the pulsing nerves that made her clitoris.

“Wet,” he murmured against her ear. “Wonderful.”

Isabel couldn’t take anymore. She felt her orgasm ready to explode—she knew if he touched her just right, she could have that pleasurable release and be satisfied, at least for a while.

“Please,” she begged, her breath short. “God please, please help me.”

He nodded against her skin, and then he stopped teasing. Stopped toying. Two thick fingers glided into her aching sex and he covered her clitoris with his thumb. She had barely had time to marvel at the feeling when he began to move in wonderful, expert strokes. Over and over, setting a rhythm that she couldn’t deny and met with her hips.

Release crashed over her almost without preamble. One moment she was lifting to meet his touch, the next she was utterly undone, her back curving, her sheath trembling and coating his fingers with wetness, her breath gone as she bit back a cry of pure relief.

Seth stroked her a few more times, milking extra tremors of pleasure from her weak body, and then he gently slid his fingers from her clenching channel. They lay on the couch together for a few quiet moments, their breathing matching gasps.

Isabel was unsteady as she finally sat up. She looked down at herself with a blush and pushed to her feet in order to smooth her skirt down over her hips. Without looking at Seth, she turned toward the mirror above the fireplace. She tried to fix her tangled hair and smooth her gown in the hopes she could mask some of the wrinkles.

“Isabel,” Seth whispered from behind her.

She turned. She could plainly see the evidence of his desire for her. His erection strained against his fitted trouser front. To her surprise, just the sight of him made her want to remove her gown completely and straddle him, pleasure him as he had pleasured her.

She covered her hot cheeks with her fingers. “My—my sister will wonder where I am,” she stammered. “People will notice
you
are gone.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “That is probably true. But returning together will cause talk galore. Why don’t you go back first?”

She blinked. Although she had brought up the ball, she wasn’t certain she was ready to face everyone and pretend she hadn’t just been pleasured quite thoroughly.

“Why me first?”

He glanced down at his erection with a wry smile. “I will need to give myself a moment, take care of my…
desire
before I am fit to face others.”

Isabel’s eyes widened at the idea that Seth would take himself in hand when she left. How she wished she could watch him do so. How she wanted to see him strain toward pleasure just as she had.

She shook her head to clear her mind of those troubling desires. “Of course,” she said, trying not to look at him. “I will leave you.”

He watched her as she crossed the room, but he didn’t speak. And Isabel fled in the hopes that she would be able to clear her mind of what had happened between them.