A Wedding Wager (24 page)

“Never.” He drew her into the parlor, where the fire
burned brightly. “You could never anger me that much, although …” He grinned. “I will say you’ve come close to it on more than one occasion.” He unclasped her cloak and dropped it onto a chair, taking her hands and pulling off her gloves one at a time, dropping them beside the cloak.

Serena laughed. “I can do this for myself.”

He shook his head. “You’re not going to do anything for yourself that I can do for you. For the rest of today, that’s how it’s going to be. Understood?” He caressed the line of her cheek with a long forefinger.

Serena felt a little shiver of excited anticipation, and a surge of desire jolted her belly, moistened her loins. She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips but said nothing.

“Understood?” he repeated softly, running his fingertip over her mouth.

She nodded. “If that’s what you wish.”

“Oh, yes, that is exactly what I wish.” He bent his head and kissed her, gently at first but then with increasing pressure. His tongue demanded entrance, and her lips parted for him, her own tongue dancing with his in a delicious fencing match that made her remember anew the glory days of their early liaison, before the world had intruded. She moved against him, her loins pressing into the hard bulge of his penis, and his hands went to her buttocks, pulling her yet closer to him, kneading the rich curves beneath her gown.

He finally raised his head, his breathing rather ragged
as he smiled. “Oh, my sweet, how I have missed you.”

“And I have missed you,” she murmured, stroking his face just as the door opened behind her.

“Oh, I beg your pardon. I didn’t realize Lady Serena had arrived already.” Peregrine bowed to Serena. “Forgive the intrusion, ma’am.”

She could sense immediately that Sebastian’s brother did not approve of her presence. There was something stiff, almost cold, in his manner, despite the impeccable courtesy of his greeting. She smiled as warmly as she could as she curtsied. “No, ’tis I who must ask forgiveness, sir. ’Tis brutally uncivilized to disturb a man before he has breakfasted.”

“Nonsense,” Sebastian declared heartily, giving his twin something akin to a scowl. “Perry knew you would be here early and is perfectly happy to share the breakfast table with you.”

“Indeed, ma’am.” Peregrine bowed again. He moved in front of the fire to the table set with breakfast dishes. “Allow me.” He pulled back a chair.

Serena glanced uncertainly at Sebastian, who said calmly, “Sit down, Serena. Even if you have already breakfasted, I’m sure you’ll be glad of coffee.”

Serena hesitated, then, with a tiny lift of her chin, took the chair Peregrine still held for her. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I own some coffee would be welcome.”

Sebastian nodded and pulled the bell rope. When Bart appeared, his interested gaze flicking between Serena and the brothers, Sebastian told him to bring
breakfast and coffee for the lady. He took his seat opposite Serena and wondered how to defuse the tension. The previous evening, Peregrine had made no overt objections to Serena’s visit when Sebastian told him to expect her the following morning, but neither had he seemed overjoyed. Sebastian knew his brother’s hesitation was out of concern for himself, but he was beginning to find it annoying. Perry ought to know by now that Sebastian could in general manage his own affairs. And he was damned if he would allow Perry to make Serena uncomfortable.

Bart brought in a covered dish of veal cutlets and another of eggs. He set the coffee pot on a trivet in the hearth and put a jug of ale for the gentlemen on the table. “That be all, sirs?” He still couldn’t take his eyes off Serena.

“For the moment.” Sebastian waved him away, saying as the door closed on the boy, “I can’t blame him for making cow’s eyes at you, Serena, but it is a little irksome.”

“He’s but a child,” Serena observed. “And I’m sure he’s just intrigued at what is, after all, a rather uncommon situation.”

“That’s true enough,” Perry agreed. “May I serve you some eggs, Lady Serena?”

Serena considered the offer, regarding Peregrine thoughtfully. “I would hate to put you off your own breakfast, sir.”

Peregrine looked at her, startled, and then a touch
of color bloomed on his cheekbones. Lady Serena had effectively tossed the ball into his court, challenging him to candor. And so be it. “As you said, Lady Serena, ’tis a rather uncommon situation. I would be more than happy for your presence at the breakfast table to be a regular occurrence, if that pleases both you and my brother. If, on the other hand, this is simply a case of ships that pass in the night, I would like a little advance warning of any impending shipwreck.”

“Perry, you have no right …” Sebastian half rose from his chair, indignation throbbing in his voice.

But Serena raised a hand. “No, Sebastian, wait. Your brother
does
have a right. You and he share a roof, and a deal more than that, I’ll wager. He’s entitled to fair warning if there’s thunder on the horizon.”

Sebastian looked at his brother and was astonished to see that Peregrine was now smiling. Perry reached a hand across the table. “Well said, Lady Serena. And I thank you. ’Tis always better, I believe, to speak out to avoid any misunderstanding. Now, may I serve you some eggs?”

Sebastian shook his head, saying drily, “I’m glad you’re both in agreement.” He took the plate from Peregrine, ladled eggs, forked a cutlet to go beside them, and placed the plate in front of Serena. “Coffee?” He reached for the coffee pot.

“Thank you,” she said with a placid smile.

For the next half-hour, it seemed to her that they were existing in a suspended bubble, or at least she and Sebastian
were. They ate and talked over a range of unimportant subjects, Peregrine playing his part as congenial fellow diner admirably, but Serena was ever conscious of what was to come, even as she found herself enjoying the postponement that merely enhanced anticipation.
And just what is to come?
Serena knew Sebastian had some plan, but he gave no indication of it, seemed so relaxed, so completely comfortable, as if nothing could spoil his pleasure in the moment, that she allowed herself to be lulled into a most unusual feeling of careless enjoyment. What would be would be.

Peregrine, if he was conscious of the current of suppressed anticipation in the room, didn’t show it. He had clearly decided to let matters run their course and made amiable small talk and discreetly failed to notice the covert glances, the half-smiles, that flew between his table companions.

Finally, Sebastian sat back, replete, and drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table, watching Serena. She put down her fork. “Are you in a hurry to do something, go somewhere, Sebastian?”

“When you’re ready,” he said. “Take your time.” His tone completely lacked conviction, and she laughed.

“I am ready now … for whatever it is.”

He sprang to his feet. “I ordered the coach for ten. It should be outside now.”

“Coach?” Peregrine raised his eyebrows. “Where did that come from?”

“Blackwater House,” his brother informed him succinctly.
“Jasper was perfectly happy to lend me Baker and the coach for the day. You know how little he uses it himself.”

Peregrine nodded. “Yes, he much prefers that curricle of his … can’t say I blame him.”

“No,” Sebastian agreed. “And unfortunately, our esteemed brother, generous to a fault though he is in most things, is adamant that he won’t lend anyone his horses. So Baker and the coach it has to be.”

“Where are you going?”

“Yes,” Serena said. “Where
are
we going?”

“Oh, you’ll find out when you get there.” He seemed immensely pleased with himself. “Come along now.” He urged her into the hall, where he draped her cloak around her shoulders, fastening the clasp, then took up her gloves, carefully easing them over her fingers.

“Oh, let me do it,” she said with a laugh, trying to take her hands back. “I’ve been putting on my own gloves since I was three years old.”

“Keep still,” he commanded, tightening his grip on her hands. “There now. All done.” He opened the front door and stood impatiently holding it. “Hurry, Serena. We have quite a drive.”

More than ever intrigued, she went past him to the street, where a rather old-fashioned coach and four stood, the Blackwater arms on the panels, a groom at the horses’ heads, a liveried coachman at the door.

“Morning, Baker.” Sebastian greeted the coachman, whom he had known most of his life.

“Morning, Mr. Sebastian.” The coachman touched his forelock, with a bow. “Morning, ma’am.” He let down the footstep and held open the door.

Serena smiled her own good morning as Sebastian handed her up into the carriage. She settled into a corner, arranging her skirts becomingly on the rather faded, rather worn velvet squabs, while Sebastian had a lowvoiced conference with the coachman before climbing in to sit opposite her. The coachman closed the door, enclosing them in the dimly lit space.

Sebastian leaned back, stretching his legs across the narrow aisle between the seats, and regarded Serena with the same possessively complacent smile.

“I shall expire of curiosity, Sebastian, if you don’t tell me at once what’s going on.” Serena found the smile both unnerving and strangely thrilling. It made her feel as if Sebastian somehow possessed her. She couldn’t understand why she found the sensation thrilling, when ordinarily she would have fought tooth and nail for control of the situation. It was her own extraordinary response that unnerved her.

“No, you won’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“A good surprise?” she asked cautiously.

“Oh, Serena, for shame,” he chided. “Would I ever have an unpleasant surprise for you? That’s more your style than mine.”

“You know why that happened,” she protested softly. “I explained it to you. Must it still lie between us?”

Sebastian realized that he was in danger of losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. And it was entirely his fault. He should never have alluded to the past. It was just that the hurt was still never far from the surface, even when they were as close as they were now. Or maybe especially then.

He leaned across the aisle, taking her hands, pulling her onto his lap as the carriage slowed, the groom’s horn blowing up for a toll gate. Fleetingly, Serena wondered where on earth they were, but the question slid from her mind without a trace.

“Mea culpa, sweetheart.” Sebastian tilted her sideways so that she lay across him, looking up as he gazed down into her face. He ran his tongue over her eyelids in a moist caress that banished all bad feelings. She reached her arms around his neck, lifting her head to kiss the corner of his hovering mouth.

“It is over,” she murmured. “It is behind us now. We have to go forward. Somehow we have to let the past go.”

“We are,” he promised. The coach lurched into motion again, the horses lengthening their stride. He slipped a hand beneath her head and kissed her, his free hand sliding beneath her cloak to cup the swell of her breasts, to trace the line of her rib cage, the curve of her hip. “I can’t wait to get this wretched gown off you,” he grumbled. He moved his hand down, sliding it up her leg beneath her skirt and petticoat, over the silk-stockinged calf, and up, smoothing over her thigh, reaching higher. She shuddered with pleasure as his fingers probed in a
wicked, knowing caress. She shifted, her body lifting to his touch, which increased in pressure as she responded, until she gave a cry, muffled instantly by his mouth, as her body became taut on the verge of orgasmic delight. When the wave broke, it engulfed her, finally washing her to shore, limp and spent.

Sebastian gathered her against him, holding her steady as the carriage rocked around a corner. He smiled down into her flushed and glowing countenance, and after a moment, her eyes opened and she smiled back.

“You always were a wicked lover,” she said, running a finger over his lips. “But that, I have to tell you, was particularly wicked. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Did you wish to expect it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No … no, that wasn’t what I meant. You know what I meant,” she protested.

“Well, I’ll tell
you
something, my adorable Serena. I have decided that treating you to the unexpected shall be my mission from now on. You’re tight as a coiled spring, my dear, and for today at the very least, I shall make it my business to unravel you. I promise you will never know what surprises I have in store until I spring them upon you.”

This time, she made no mention of good or bad surprises.

Sebastian helped her up and back onto the opposite seat. Then he sat back, resting his head against the squabs, smiling as she straightened her skirts and tried to put herself to rights in the confines of the carriage. Her
hair had escaped in wisps from the knot on top of her head, and her side curls were in disarray. She tugged her fingers through them, but it was fairly futile.

“What do I look like?” she groaned. “What will people think when I step out?”

“There won’t be any people to think anything at all,” he said with a lazy smile. “You look entrancingly disheveled, which is a completely new sight. I like it, so do me a favor and leave everything as it is.”

She gave up. “Oh, well, if you say so.” She rested her head against the back of the bench and regarded him through half-closed eyes, reflecting that he was very different these days, and she found the difference only exciting.

After a few moments, she sat up and drew aside the leather curtain at the window aperture. As she had assumed from the toll, they had left the busy London streets behind and were now driving through a rather pretty village of thatched cottages lining the rutted lane on both sides. Green fields stretched behind them, cows grazing peaceably under the trees.

“Where is this?”

Sebastian sat up and looked out. “Oh, good, we’re nearly there. ’Tis the village of Knightsbridge. Very quiet, very sleepy.”

“So that must have been the Knightsbridge toll we passed. I didn’t realize we were going into the country.” She sounded as surprised as she felt. Sebastian had always struck her as the quintessential London denizen.