The Devil Earl (23 page)

“Perhaps, we can take this opportunity to…explore,” Sebastian said, in a soft voice that sent chills up Prudence’s spine. Suddenly, the companionable atmosphere that had settled after the meal was gone, to be replaced by the heightened awareness that she so often knew in his presence. Her pulse paced, her breathing increased, and her heart hammered in her chest.

“What would you care to see first?” he asked.

“Well, I…” Prudence began, uncertain. “Perhaps where James disappeared.”

Sebastian’s mouth curled into a scowl. “That might be better seen in daylight. Let us not pursue our little mystery tonight.” He lifted his head to settle that gray gaze upon her in a manner that roused her senses to a fever pitch. “After all, we must take advantage of this wonderful atmosphere, Prudence dear. How about the long gallery, or the Devil Earl’s chambers…or the tower room?”

“The tower room, by all means,” Prudence blurted out. At her answer, Sebastian smiled slowly, his lips curving wickedly, and she felt her blood surge in reply.

“The tower it shall be, then,” he said, setting down his glass. Moving silently and gracefully to her side, he took her hand. Then, tucking it in the crook of his arm, he lifted a candelabra and escorted her out of the dining hall.

Although Sebastian walked without hesitation through the abbey’s rooms, Prudence was soon hopelessly lost. It became obvious that, though part of the original structure
had been built with high, vaulted ceilings, other parts were little more than narrow tunnels, where her tall companion was practically forced to duck. Some areas seemed dreadfully cold, too, and damp, and the corridors twisted in incomprehensible directions, past jutting doors and shadowed archways that veered off into darkness.

Prudence was fascinated.

Finally, they came to a corner stairway so narrow that she could reach out and touch both sides at once. They were forced to mount the steps singly, and Sebastian urged her upward, while behind her the candlelight wavered, casting giant phantoms along the walls as they neared the top.

The stair ended abruptly at a huge old oaken door studded with metal. Its heavy bolt, rammed home, faced them. Prudence felt her excitement soar as she realized that the lock was meant not to keep intruders out, but to keep the room’s inhabitant imprisoned. After all these years of watching and wondering, she was inside Wolfinger at last, and about to view the infamous tower.

Prudence held her breath as Sebastian lifted the bolt and swung the door wide. Immediately, her senses were assailed with sharp thrills as a rush of wind threatened to extinguish the candelabra and an ominous banging noise greeted them. Sebastian, apparently unmoved by the bizarre sound, stepped forward, gracefully making his way to where a loose shutter rattled in an eerie rhythm.

While Sebastian secured the window, Prudence gazed about her curiously. The walls were curved, which gave the whole place an odd cast, but the area was larger than she expected, with a high, beamed ceiling that made it seem even more spacious. The furniture was sparse, however, and the bed, compared to the enormous gilt creation in the state bedroom, looked oddly plain, bereft even of any hangings. It was large, though, and looked remarkably clean.

Prudence reached out to touch the smooth surface of the bedding and lifted her fingers in surprise, for it was practically
free of dust. Glancing up into the shadows, she saw no cobwebs, either, and, sniffing, she noted that there was no musty smell, only the clean scent of sea air coming through the window.

Considering how Mrs. Worth complained about being unable to tend to the huge abbey herself, the state of the abandoned tower room was rather unusual. “It seems to be amazingly well kept,” she commented.

“Yes, well, I had told them to open the house earlier, but then I changed my mind.” A note in Sebastian’s voice made her look at him, a dark figure standing tall and straight beside the window. “And then I changed it back,” he said softly, and something in his deep tone made her shiver.

He stepped forward, fixing his gray gaze upon her. It was stormy with the promise of untold secrets, and Prudence felt her blood rise and pulse through her at an alarming rate. He had this way of manipulating her perceptions and her senses in a fashion that she found both splendid and astonishing.

Unable to respond, Prudence simply stared at him, while her body thrummed with awareness. The very air seemed to tingle with anticipation, as though something were going to happen—and then, suddenly, it did. The door behind her slammed shut with a startling thud, nearly stopping her heart with its force. Was that the Devil Earl, or a gust of wind…or the doing of Sebastian himself? For one giddy moment, Prudence imagined that he had somehow worked his will upon the forces of nature.

Swallowing the lump of surprise in her throat, Prudence walked as calmly as she could to the door and tried the handle, but the heavy oak would not move. In an instant, Sebastian was beside her, his lean but muscular body pushing against the wood, but he could not get it to budge, either.

“The outside bolt must have dropped into place,” he said finally. Then, turning toward her, he rubbed a palm across
his chin and chuckled. ”Well, Prudence, it appears that you are not going to make it home tonight.”

Prudence watched his amusement with no little fascination, for the situation appeared far from humorous to her. They were locked in an all-but-abandoned room, far from the main body of the abbey, with a single housekeeper as the only other member of the household.

It could be days before they were discovered! All the horrible fates that Prudence had concocted for her characters rose to haunt her more forcefully than the Devil Earl ever could. Starvation and dehydration loomed ahead as very real possibilities, making both Wolfinger and its tower room lose their romantic luster.

For the first time since meeting the earl of Ravenscar, Prudence began to feel a bit of unease about assuming the role of one of her helpless heroines, and she realized that living out a gothic novel might not be quite as wonderful as she had thought.

Her little adventure might well be the death of her.

“This is a dreadful coil!” Prudence exclaimed.

“Do you think so? I find it rather appealing,” Sebastian answered smoothly as he walked toward the bed.

“But we might be trapped here forever, never to be found, our bones the only evidence that we have been here!”

Sebastian’s lips curled wryly. “Now, Prudence, I know the place is understaffed, but let us hope that the room would not lie that long between airing.” He leaned over the covers, turning them down neatly. “When it is light, I shall find a way out.”

His arrogant confidence made Prudence realize that he spoke sensibly. There was no need to panic…yet. Meanwhile, they might as well make themselves comfortable, she thought, glancing about the room. When her eyes strayed back to Sebastian, her mind finally registered his actions, and she felt oddly giddy.

“What are you doing?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

He straightened and turned around, the candelabra casting shadows upon his tall form, and his smile was as wicked and tempting as some rich chocolate confection. “I believe, Prudence dear, that we might as well accept our fate and…enjoy it.”

As she watched, dumbfounded, he removed his jacket and slung it on the back of one of the chairs. “You must realize that I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you, despite the warnings of the conscience that you, alone, seem able to resurrect. Now, as they say, I believe it is out of my hands,” he said, with a quirk of his mouth. He tugged at his neckcloth until it fell open.

“We have all night, Pru, just the two of us, to do whatever we will,” he said in a whisper that sent chills dancing up and down her spine. Thoughts of expiration were forgotten as a new threat presented itself: Sebastian himself. As he said, they were entirely alone, trapped together, for this night, at least. Prudence swallowed hard as the full import of his words sank in. She tried to steady herself, but her blood was already racing to embrace the promise implicit in his husky tone.

He took another step forward, so that the candlelight danced across his face, and fixed her with a gray gaze so fraught with intent that she felt impaled by it. She stood there, breathless and helpless, while he unbuttoned his black waistcoat, and the excitement that thrummed through her had nothing to do with Wolfinger or the tower room, and everything to do with its tall, handsome master.

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Sebastian tossed the garment aside, and Prudence made a small sound of surprise. “Are you…are you going to take off…everything?” she managed through her suddenly tight throat.

With his usual grace, Sebastian dropped into the chair, the flickering light catching a ghost of a smile upon his shadowed face. “I find it is usually better, especially at first, if
both parties divest themselves of their clothing,” he said, pulling off one of his boots. It fell to the floor with a thump.

Still he held her gaze, as if daring her to negate his plans or stop him undressing, but Prudence could no more deny him than she could cease taking in air. He was everything she had ever dreamed of, and yet more potent than any fantasy come to life.

While she watched, he took off his other boot and his stockings and rose to stand before her, his feet bare upon the worn carpet. Since Prudence could not recall ever having seen anyone’s toes but her own and Phoebe’s, the sight was rather startling—until he lifted his arms and took off his shirt.

“Oh, my!” Prudence said. She backed up against a chair and sat abruptly, overwhelmed by the bold lines of his naked chest. He was broad-shouldered, but lean and taut, muscles running beneath his skin like smooth cording, both hard and supple. Hair as black as that upon his head lightly covered his chest, before narrowing to a fine line that led over his flat stomach and into his breeches. His body was so very different from her own, and yet so appealing that Prudence was transfixed, enthralled again by his dark allure.

His hands dropped to the waistband of his breeches, and for a moment, Prudence thought he was going to take them off, too, but, apparently, he thought better of it, for his arms dropped to his sides and he stepped forward with that silent grace she knew so well. Without covering, his upper body moved sinuously, the muscles sliding beneath his skin in a gentle rhythm that both teased and enchanted her.

Dropping to his knees in front of her chair, Sebastian lifted her foot, removed her slipper and slid his hands up under her gown. Prudence shivered as his fingers brushed against her leg before taking hold of her garter and rolling down her stocking. His actions were exquisitely slow, as if he were savoring every moment, and Prudence felt herself grow light-headed at his touch.

Afraid she might swoon if she saw him groping beneath her skirts, Prudence kept her eyes upon the top of his dark hair. The room itself faded from her awareness, along with the giant shadows cast by the flickering candles. Outside, the wind howled eerily, the rain lashed and the thunder roared, but she could hear nothing above the pounding of her own heart.

All the thrills of her beloved Gothic scenes paled in comparison to those brought on by the man before her. Sebastian became the center of her attention, the focus of her very being. Although he had laid aside her stocking, he made no further move, but sat back upon his heels with her foot in his palm, looking down at it intently.

“Good Lord, even your feet are beautiful,” he muttered. Startled, Prudence glanced down at her foot, a part of her body in which she had previously taken little interest. It was long and slender, with fine ridges running along the top. “It looks rather bony to me,” she observed.

Sebastian laughed, a deep, seductive sound. “Do not attempt to reason with me, Prudence, for I am beyond that.” He looked up at her, and the intensity of his gaze was daunting. “What I feel for you has nothing to do with reason or sense or anything…tangible. I no longer try to understand it myself.”

Although he spoke the words lightly, Prudence knew he had never been more serious, and she knew that her own emotions were just as deep and disturbing. Tentatively she lifted a hand to his cheek, her fingers grazing its roughness while she released her pent breath in a low sigh.

Sebastian caught her hand roughly and pressed a hard kiss into her palm. She could feel his breath against her skin, quick and harsh, while he paused, as if to gain control of himself. “Slowly, Pru,” he whispered. Then, with a wry smile, he dropped her hand and searched underneath her gown for her other stocking.

It came off more quickly than the last, and when Sebastian set it aside, he put his palms upon her calves, easing her skirts up as he caressed her skin. “Such long legs,” he murmured, his hands gliding higher. “Long and smooth and lovely,” he drawled, dragging out each word and flavoring it with awe.

His hands continued their gentle climb, until finally her gown and slip and chemise were bunched up at her waist and Sebastian knelt, poised, between her thighs. His position was rather startling, considering that her lower body was bared to his view, and Prudence opened her mouth to protest. But she was silenced by the tight grip of his fingers upon her flesh and the intense look upon his face that spoke of some inner struggle she could not comprehend. Then, suddenly, he made a low sound of surrender and kissed her knee, parting her legs as his mouth moved inward.

“Sebastian!” Prudence protested, for her most private place was before him, uncovered by her garments and opening to him as he pushed her thighs wide. Her cry only seemed to inflame him further, however, because his hands slid around to close over her nude buttocks, drawing her forward toward his dark head.

“Sebastian!” She wriggled, but he held her fast and kissed her. There. “Oh, my!” Prudence whispered, as awareness shot through her, obliterating all else. Sebastian. Hot. Wet.
There. With his mouth!
His fingers dug into her skin, while his tongue moved over her, stroking, probing, exciting beyond belief, and she no longer tried to move away, but pressed herself forward. Closer.