The Seduction of Sebastian St. James (14 page)

“Servants talk.”

Sebastian cursed aloud. Why hadn’t he thought of that? With the right amount of blunt, it would have been easy to bribe any one of the downstairs maids. Were they not cleaning up the morning meal when Sebastian had made his little announcement?

Rawlings sneered. “I would never openly threaten you, Tempest.” His tone was mocking. “Do you think me mad? No, I merely wanted to report the news since you plan on leaving first thing in the morning. I wasn’t sure if you would want to make other preparations considering the circumstances.”

The room darkened along with Sebastian’s mood. “I thank you for your forthrightness and concern.” He stood up and pushed off the leather chair. “Now, I shall escort you out.”

“Of course.” Rawlings scowled. “Wouldn’t want such an unsavory character as myself gracing your doorstep at midnight. What would people think?” Rawlings paused. “She isn’t yours…Not yet.”

“Leave,” Sebastian ordered.

Rawlings made his way to the door. Turning, his mocking grin faded and a serious expression replaced it. “It didn’t have to be like this, Seb.”

Rawlings hadn’t used Sebastian’s first name since that day. For some reason it only fanned the flame, making him more furious with Rawlings for putting him in the positions he had over the years, furious at himself for not pulling Rawlings out of his own pit of despair, and angry that Rawlings would allow himself to go down such a path of destruction. The man was anything but happy. The only thing he had to offer society was his rakish reputation and his title.

“You chose this, Phillip.”

Rawlings inclined his head and left. The room was heavy with emotion, some coming from the retreating form of his former friend, but most stemmed from Sebastian’s own heart as he again felt the need to battle old demons.

The sooner he could put this whole house party business behind him, the better. Emma was plaguing his days, and now, thanks to those glorious kisses, his nights. Rawlings seemed to have something odd up his sleeve, and Nicholas was still trying to get Sebastian to deal with his past as he had so readily dealt with his own.

In fact, on more than one occasion Nicholas had tried to get Sebastian to talk with him about his past. Men didn’t speak of such things, which Sebastian rudely reminded his friend. But Nicholas kept pressing. Granted, Sebastian had seen a remarkable change in his friend’s attitude toward life, but he himself was not yet ready to deal with things that had happened so long ago, not when more important things were bothering him.

Like the way Emma’s body felt pressed against his.

Or the way her eyes challenged him when they talked.

Or the fact that she—the only woman he wanted in his arms, in his bed—was to be picking from the flock of the
ton
, trying to find him the perfect wife.

He let out a bitter laugh.
She
did not exist.

But the perfect woman? He had a good idea of the name of the woman who fit that description rather handsomely.

Chapter Fourteen

The minute the ducal carriage pulled up to Renwick House, Emma was filled with dread. And so began the count down until the only man she had kissed would soon be engaged to another.

Aggravated, she pulled off her bonnet, feeling the need to pout just a bit. Nobody ever said life was fair, and Emma’s life had been anything but fair. It was frustrating to think the only men she could pair with were the ones who fell asleep while dancing at the ball or had no teeth to chew their own food. Her mind immediately went to the three gentlemen at the first ball she had attended. Was it rude to wish they would meet their demise sooner rather than later?

What a terrible thing to think!

“Emma? What are you doing?” Sebastian came up alongside her and pointed at the bonnet in her hand. “Are you trying to murder your poor bonnet? What did it ever do to you?”

Releasing it, she let out a nervous laugh. “Yes, well, it was too tight on my head.”

“Ah, that explains it. Your head is rather large for a woman. Say, do you have special bonnets made?”

“Ha, ha,” she mocked, and then put out her foot as he tried to walk by her. He barely missed it. Would it be so wrong for the perfect duke to fall flat on his face and get his white breeches dirty?

Sebastian swore. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be like this the entire way to Rawlings’ estate.”

“Better than being drooled on by a man twice your age,” Emma mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Sebastian helped her into the carriage. “I don’t believe I drool, nor am I twice your age.”

“Not you…the man you’ll most likely choose for me.” Emma crossed her arms and leaned her head against the back of the seat.

The carriage door closed, leaving the two of them in the tiny space. At least they were sitting opposite of one another.

“Emma, I have no idea what’s put you in such a mood, but I doubt any men over the age of sixty will be in attendance at Rawlings’ house party He is known for lively events. Men older than thirty might even have a hard time keeping up, if you know what I mean.”

The carriage jerked into motion, carrying them down the busy street. It seemed to fit that rain began pouring the moment they left London. Emma tried to have a good attitude. She honestly desired to. It was just that every mile they traveled she felt sicker over not spending more time with Sebastian. When had she become so attached?

When he kissed you.

When he danced with you.

Perhaps when he smiled?

“Stop!” she yelled.

Sebastian panicked and grabbed her by the wrists. “Emma, what in the blazes is wrong!”

Emma felt her face flush. “I, uh, hadn’t…meant to say that…out…” She gulped. “Loud.”

“Dear me, are you so nervous about a tiny house party?” Sebastian’s warm breath fanned her face. She leaned in and nodded.

He reached his hand out to push her fallen hair away from her face. “Chin up, my dear. You will be just fine, I promise.”

Closing her eyes, she nodded and imagined what it would be like to have him as hers and only hers.

And then it hit her, figuratively, that is.

Why not pretend? Why not enjoy the time they had left? Sebastian would never marry her anyway. Why not try to seduce him to have one time with him as the duchess had suggested? Granted, it was somewhat of a selfish notion, but it would be the only time in her life she could actually feel something for a man. The only time she could trick her heart into believing she would have a happily ever after.

“Maybe you are right,” she said, flashing him a devastating smile.

Sebastian’s grin faded. “Are you trying to trick me by placating to my egotistical side? The side which needs to be right regardless of the consequences?”

Emma’s answer was to shrug and smile. Knowing full well she had his attention, she placed her hand across her chest, directly above the low cut of her gown. Her leather kid gloves felt soft against her skin. If she was trying to seduce herself, she was doing a marvelous job. An uncontrollable shiver ran down her spine as Sebastian’s eyes boldly took her in. Starting where her hand was placed and slowly looking up to meet her eyes. He said nothing.

Leaning in, he brushed a kiss across her forehead. A sigh escaped her mouth before she could stop it.

Then his hand carefully cupped the bottom of her chin, thrusting it forward. “If you don’t stop, you will find yourself in a compromising situation and have to marry me. You don’t want that, do you?” Did his eyes have a shred of hope in them? Leaning forward she boldly placed her hand on his chest.

“I guess that depends, Sebastian.”

He gulped. “On?”

“I doubt a compromising situation would do much, that’s all.”

Sebastian leaned forward. “Emma, a woman’s reputation is everything. It is her currency, all she has in this world, don’t you think?” As he said the words, he leaned dangerously closer.

Emma wasn’t sure on how to answer, how precisely had she gotten herself into this predicament? The minute her glove came into contact with his chest, she lost all thought. Streaming together a complete sentence seemed foreign to her. And then he had said those awful words. Why did everything come back to reputations?

Sebastian’s eyes locked on her lips. His vision turned lazily seductive as they nearly closed. And then he very gently pushed her away. The look on his face indifferent.

Emma flinched, feeling the blow to her pride. She pulled her hand back to the seat of the carriage and held on, allowing the blood to drain from her hand. Maybe she shouldn’t clench the seat so hard. It wasn’t his fault. He had no idea how much his words had stung. No thought in his pretty, perfect little head that she was already compromised, already ruined, and utterly imperfect for someone such as himself.

“Now.” Sebastian leaned back into the seat as if the bloody world hadn’t just turned on its ear and smiled. “If you look at me the way you did a few minutes ago, before I talked some sense into both of us, we’ll do quite well at the house party. But if you glower like you are right now—don’t glare at me, you know you’re pouting—people won’t believe I’m utterly besotted with you.”

The man had a point. How was she to seduce him if he had the self-control of a saint? The dowager duchess had hinted that it took more than a pretty face and surprise attack to turn him on his ear.

Rain began pouring even harder onto their carriage. Emma looked out the window before answering. “Fine, but you have to spend time with me.”

“And what would you call this, my dear?”

Emma would have liked to throw something at Sebastian, and her eyes darted around their small space looking for an object light enough to make a mark but not kill the smug man.

Gathering her wits and much needed patience, Emma answered, “Time together, Sebastian, as in we need to be partners during all the games, you must be my escort to dinner, and at the end of every day, we shall go riding together.”

Sebastian frowned.

“Riding together so we can share what we’ve learned about our…candidates.”

“You mean victims.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are right. Victims, in the sense that they have no idea what’s coming.”

Sebastian’s grin faded as he eyed her from head to toe. “They don’t stand a chance.”

Emma ignored his compliment and held out her hand. “Do we have an agreement, your grace?”

“Agreed.” He took hold of her, hand but refused to let it go. He yanked her closer so their foreheads almost touched. “But we mustn’t let on that we aren’t in love. Nobody must know the truth, or you, my dear, will be absolutely ruined.” His concern was obvious from the seriousness of his voice and the penetrating look he gave her.

Unable to speak, she merely nodded, all the while thinking,
It’s too late for some things.

Over the next hour, Emma was silent as the grave. Sebastian had fallen asleep after their talk and now had a pathetic grin plastered on his face as he most likely dreamed of women and horses and, well, whatever men of his position dreamed about.

Bored, she decided to get a closer look at his angelic face. She carefully leaned closer to his side of the carriage and watched the slow relaxed intake of breath.

Smooth, his skin was so smooth. What use does a man have for such kissable skin? Better God bless a woman with polished skin than waste it on a man. Though looking at him was most definitely not a waste. Dark eyelashes, nearly longer than her own, rested against his high cheeks. Scowling, she leaned in closer. Would it be too much to ask for the man to have a flaw? Thinning hair? Possibly a gambling problem? Or better yet, a drinking problem? Yes, that would make him much more real.

Just then Sebastian shifted, scaring Emma nearly out of her wits as she tumbled back to her seat and crossed her arms, careful not to breathe too loudly lest she wake up Sebastian. The only thing she knew how to be was herself, which was entirely inappropriate, given the circumstances.

She wanted to dance, she wanted to gallop, and blast it but she wanted just for once to feel what it would be like to be desired by a man. She was already ruined, might as well do it thoroughly. Pretending to be in love with Sebastian would be the easy part.

Seducing him? There was the rub.

Maybe she should practice enticing smiles? Hadn’t she overheard some of Rawlings’ friends and him included that her smile could cause a nun to swear? And hadn’t that same smile been the one that had brought her so much trouble? Or was it the dancing? Or possibly the need to be adventurous on her own? For as much difficulty as her looks had gotten her into, she wasn’t entirely sure how to use them to her advantage. She knew that men’s eyes were naturally drawn to where women touched themselves.

So maybe she would often bring her fingers to her mouth. She experimented by letting out a small gasp and touching two fingers to her lips as she gave a come-hither look across the carriage. She nearly doubled over in laughter from her own silliness.

Batting her long eyelashes, she whispered, “Why, Sebastian, you sly fox. I could just—”