Too Scandalous to Wed (15 page)

“Happy New Year, Henry.”

He whispered the words.

Her toes curled.

And then he kissed her soundly.

T
he sweet taste of champagne on Henrietta’s warm lips had a besotting effect on Sebastian. Not the buzz from the guests, nor the music in the anteroom distracted him from her balmy kiss—only the sharp cut of her teeth was rather jarring.

He let her go and licked his lips, tasting blood. The wily chit. She had snatched away his bachelorhood by writing that scandalous letter, and now she had the brass to bite him—her betrothed. “Is that any way to greet your fiancé?”

“Why did you kiss me?” she hissed, breathless.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Isn’t it the way I’m supposed to greet you?”

Henrietta lifted her darling chin, took in a deep breath, and said quietly, “Go to the devil.”

Sebastian quirked a mordant grin.

The feisty little hoyden. He was going to thoroughly enjoy bedding her. Already, looking into her rebellious eyes, absorbing the energy of her defiant spirit…aroused him.

“You look bewitching tonight,” he whispered, eyes dropping to the sweeping cut of her fashionable frock. “Red suits your passionate nature.”

“And black suits your dark and twisted heart.”

“Touché, Henry.”

“My name is Miss Ashby.”

How very formal, the appellation. Cold and haughty, too. She had pestered him for years to call her by her nickname, and now she preferred their former, proper rapport? Very well, he would play along—at least until he got the fiery chit into his bed.

“I apologize, Miss Ashby.”

“Rot!’ she snapped. “You’re late.”

“Am I?” He glanced at the clock. “So I am. How dreadful. I hope I didn’t cause too much of a stir.”

The deep swell of her lush breasts was hard to miss. She was trying to keep a cap on her temper. Had he ruffled the chit’s feathers with his tardiness? Capital. He was determined to wrest back some control of his miserable life. And since he could not choose his bride, he was damn well going to choose what time he showed up for the engagement party.

“Where have you been?” she gritted. “That vile club of yours?”

The chatter around them had dwindled. Many meddlesome guests circled the couple, eavesdropping. But there was still the lively music in the anteroom—and the duo’s hushed voices—to keep the curious onlookers at bay.

He lifted a brow. “Jealous, Miss Ashby?”

“What rot!”

He had never liked her possessive tendencies before. But now…now he was not quite so averse to them. She had to care for him—even a little—to be jealous. And he liked the thought of that, as well.

“I rather think you’re jealous,” Sebastian murmured with a wolfish smile.

“I rather think you’re a scoundrel.”

“I am, Miss Ashby.” He lifted his hand to brush the smooth texture of her rosy cheek. “And you are jealous.”

“I loathe you.”

She shivered under his touch, indicating otherwise, warming his blood. He had prepared himself for the chit’s contempt. But now to feel the quiver of her arousal did his roguish heart much good.

“I’m flattered, Miss Ashby.”

“I’m tired.” Henrietta turned her cheek away. “I’m going to bed.”

“Would you like me to join you?”

She gasped. “Why, you rotten—”

“Something the matter, Miss Ashby?” He slipped his arm around her waist and caressed the low curve of her back, insensible to the spectacle he was making in front of the guests. “You and I are about to be married. And since you’ve welcomed me into your bed before…”

“I will
never
welcome you into my bed again.”

“Is that so?” he drawled, unconvinced.

“Our marriage will be in name only. I will never let you touch me, Ravenswood—ever!”

Sebastian frowned. He delved deep into her bay brown eyes, searching for truth. And he realized the chit was serious!

Now he was
really
livid.

“What about an heir, Miss Ashby?”

“Peter’s will do just fine.” She bumped his hand off her midriff. “You’ve always said so yourself.”

The muscles in his jaw and neck stiffened. “And if Peter doesn’t have an heir?”

She looked perplexed, as if she hadn’t thought about that possibility. But she quickly gathered her features to say, “Why don’t we wait and see what happens in the next…oh, five years? If there is no heir by then, we’ll discuss the matter again.”

Five
years
! Did she think to keep him from her room—her bed—for that long? Even the whole of their marriage?

Like hell! It was already insufferable, being forced to wed. But he damn well wasn’t going to marry a cold fish!

He’d had a carnal taste of Henrietta once before. She was a feisty little wanton in bed. It was the only perk to the whole blasted affair. And if she thought to deny him her charming curves, her plump breasts…well, Sebastian wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Good evening, Ravenswood.”

Rankled, Sebastian smoothed his features into a bland smile. “Good evening, Baron Ashby.”

The baron stretched out his hand in greeting. “How fare your business affairs, Ravenswood?”

Sebastian accepted the offered hand and wrinkled his brow. “My business affairs?”

“The reason you were detained, my lord,” said Henrietta.

“Ah, yes, my business affairs.” Was that what the devious chit had told everyone about his tardiness? Very clever of her. “All in good order, Baron Ashby.”

“Glad to hear it, Ravenswood. Glad to hear it.”

The baron was stiff and formal and so unlike his usual cheerful self. Well, Peter had warned him the baron was cantankerous. After all, Sebastian was stealing away the man’s “darling boy.”

But Sebastian didn’t have time to comfort a malcontent Baron Ashby. His betrothed had just uttered a ghastly vow, and he was determined to set her right on the matter. A marriage in name only? Not if he had anything to say about it!

First, though, Sebastian had to pacify the baron and send him on his way.

“Baron Ashby, I understand you have leather-tip cue sticks?”

Henrietta offered him a quizzical look.

“Why, yes, Ravenswood,” said the baron. “Yes, I do.”

“We must play a game of billiards, my lord.”

The baron’s eyes brightened. “What a capital idea, Ravenswood!”

“Splendid!” Sebastian smiled. “How about a game tonight?”

The baron beamed. “A game? Tonight? Why, yes, Ravenswood. I would be delighted.”

Henrietta pinched her lips and crossed her arms under her breasts. The baron was an easy man to cajole. She might not appreciate that, but Sebastian did. He had other, more pressing matters to attend to, and the sooner he appeased every angry Ashby at the party, the sooner he could upbraid his betrothed for even suggesting he steer clear of her bed.

And speaking of every angry Ashby…

“Good evening, my lord.”

The baroness came to stand beside her husband. There was something cold about the woman. Her stiff deportment, her cutting glance. Sebastian intended to mollify her, too.

“Good evening, Lady Ashby.” He bowed. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said crisply.

To win over the icy baroness, Sebastian gathered all the flirtatious charm he had mastered over the years, and smiled. “My lady, I have a favor to ask of you.”

The baroness opened her fan with a snap. “Yes, Ravenswood?”

“You must take my place at the Royal Pavilion in Brighton.”

Lady Ashby’s fan flickered fast. “The Royal Pavilion, my lord?”

“It’s in a month’s time. I’ve been invited to an assembly by the King himself. And you are family, Lady Ashby, so I insist you take my place. I shall be engaged elsewhere, I’m afraid.”
Bedding my wife
. “So I must beg you to go in my stead.”

Eyes glistening, lips twisting into a smile, the baroness—so besotted with pomp and presentation—quickly said, “Why, I’d be honored, Ravenswood.”

“Splendid!”

Sebastian knew for a fact the baroness had never been invited to one of the royal assemblies. She had lamented the slight for years. Surely she would never be cross with him again for orchestrating the invitation.

The baroness beamed at her husband and took him by the arm. “Come, Nicholas. We have guests to entertain.” She nodded to Sebastian. “Lord Ravenswood.”

Sebastian bowed again. “Lady Ashby.”

The baroness dragged her husband away.

The baron whispered in flight, “Billiards later, Ravenswood!”

Sebastian watched the quirky couple wend through the crowd and disappear. That was two Ashbys thoroughly stroked, flattered, and appeased. Now he need only placate the sisters…

Aha! He’d have the finest lace and ribbon and fringe in all of France delivered to their door. That should exonerate him nicely.

Now to throttle his betrothed.

Sebastian slipped a firm arm around Henrietta’s waist and steered her to a more private nook. “We have a matter of business to discuss, Miss Ashby.”

She smacked his hand away. “We have nothing to discuss, my lord. I will not be so easily mollified. You cannot offer to play billiards with me or drag me off to Brighton to dance with the King, and expect me to forgive you.”

“Forgive
me
?” he choked. “For what?”

“You bandied that letter all over London and ruined me!”

He growled, “I did
not
bandy that letter. And might I remind you,
I
, too, was ruined by the scandal. I never intended to wed, Miss Ashby. It’s done my reputation a terrible blow, the news of my pending nuptials.”

“How dreadful for you.” She smirked, then said, “But if you didn’t show the letter all over Town, then who did?”

“I have no idea, but I can assure you, Miss Ashby, I will throttle the culprit as soon as I find him.”

“Or her, my lord. You do have so many lovely ‘nuns’ in your life. Why, one might have thought she was doing you a favor, spreading the letter all over Town. Or better yet, maybe a ‘nun’ was jealous and decided to thwart you. Women can be so devious, my lord.”

Devious indeed. Imagine trapping a man into marriage, then denying him the marriage bed. It was a bloody sin!

“Let’s not forget who wrote that blasted letter in the first place,” he gritted.

“Oh, I won’t forget. And I will pay for my folly all the rest of my days—with my marriage to you!”

She flounced off. A bit shaky in her step, but still, she had made her feelings perfectly clear—she hated him!

“Evening, Seb.”

“Go to hell, Peter.”

Peter looked positively tickled.

Sebastian looked beyond his brother’s annoying head to see a gaggle of protective sisters surround Henrietta. Devil take it, how was he supposed to get close to his betrothed with all those harridans buzzing about?

He sighed. “I’ve come to marry her, Peter.”

Peter rocked on his heels, gleeful. “’Course you have.”

“But it looks like she loathes me.”

“’Course she does.”

“So you, brother, are going to help me win her back.”

“’Course I will.”

“You’ll take care of the sisters?”

“Already on it.”

Peter strutted off, a light spring to his step.

Sebastian glared at the sexy little hoyden from across the room, waiting for the ideal opportunity to be alone with her.

The nerve of the chit to deny him—her soon-to-
be husband—that deliciously tempting body of hers. Well, there was only one thing left to do. He was going to have to seduce the willful Miss Ashby.

The night was still. Henrietta stood by the terrace edge, gazing at the starry sky. It was cold, too, but she did not have a wrap. Too eager to get away from the festivities—and Ravenswood’s smoldering kisses—she did not think to fetch one.

Alone, for her sisters had been summoned to the nursery—the children were in an uproar of some sort—Henrietta let the chill of winter nip at her nose. Maybe it would nip at her heart, too. Something had to cap the bubble of emotions roiling in her breast.

The dastardly knave! Ravenswood had strolled into the parlor at the stroke of midnight, tried to charm his way into
her
bed, and then had the gall to look stricken at the thought of being denied his marital right.

She humphed. Was she supposed to ignore his foul behavior, pretend he wasn’t a degenerate? He had smashed her heart to bits that night at the abbey; he had exposed his true and wicked self to her. She didn’t trust the man, she didn’t even
like
the man anymore. And she would not let him near her heart or her body again. She’d pelt him with rocks first.

However, there was one misfortune she had not anticipated: the lack of an heir. In her steely determination to be rid of Ravenswood’s touch, she’d for
gotten about a babe. If she barred the viscount from her bed, she would never be a mother.

There was a sharp pang in her breast at the thought of being childless. She knew firsthand the grief it caused her sister Penelope. But Henrietta quickly dismissed the ache. It was better for her to remain fruitless. Peter and Penelope might still have an heir to secure the estate. Henrietta need not bring an innocent babe into Ravenswood’s sinful world. The viscount would make a terrible father, teach their child to indulge in vice. And she could not bear to witness the degeneration of her own son, the corruption of her own daughter.

Henrietta bristled. A warm coat slipped over her shoulders, the scent of rosemary and lemon stirring her senses.

Drat! She didn’t have any rocks.

“You’ll catch a chill, Miss Ashby.”

Oh, that gruff male voice! Did it have to make her quiver so?

She didn’t dare turn around. “I’m not cold.”

“You’re shivering, Miss Ashby.”

Sebastian rubbed her shoulders in slow and sensual caresses, making her heart tap and the sweat gather between her breasts. Did he think to beguile her with his gallantry? Henrietta had more fight in her than that.

“What are you doing here, Ravenswood?” she snapped.

“Can’t I visit with my fiancée?”

Oh, now he wanted to spend time with her? It had suited him just fine, deserting her for most of the engagement bash, but now he was ready to cavort with her? Did he want more kisses?

That did it. Henrietta whirled around.