Romancing the Countess (33 page)
She kept her eyes closed—perhaps if she didn’t open them, she wouldn’t have to admit to what she was doing—and lifted her chin, her mouth grazing over his jaw, across his cheek, settling like a whisper on his lips.
He exhaled harshly, his arms leaving the wall beside her to crush her against him. It was like the force of a tide, surrounding her and pulling her under, a sweet, heady rush.
Yes, this is what she wanted. To open her mouth, to touch her tongue to his. Here there was no fear, no weakness. It was only Sebastian and the comfort of his touch, the realization of his desire for her that left her legs shaking and filled her head with a wild, dizzying rush. With a soft, pleased sound, she slid her arms up over his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders. Before she could link her hands around his neck, he broke free, lurching back. His chest heaved as he held their hands between them, his gaze tormented, wild, bewildered.
“Do you want me, Leah?” he asked. His voice rasped across her senses, turning her skin to gooseflesh.
She tugged her hands from his grip and rubbed her arms. “I . . .” She wanted him. She knew that without a doubt. Sebastian. She wanted him to continue talking in that voice, the one that made her come undone, that made her feel as if she were something to be worshiped, a siren who made him lost control. She wanted to hear him laugh, to share his smiles, to soften her heart while he played with Henry. She wanted to stare into his eyes and realize, without trying to deceive herself that it was something else, that he told the truth when he said he desired her.
She wanted Sebastian. But did she want this? Could she handle giving him everything; could she risk not knowing whether she would ever gain it back?
Leah shook her head. “I’m sorry—”
He took another step back, his gaze shuttered, then pivoted and strode to the window. “Then go,” he said. “Go right now, before I make the mistake again of testing my own strength.”
“Sebastian—”
He looked over his shoulder, his mouth twisted. “Go, Leah.”
She faltered, unable to move. Lifting her arm, she opened her mouth and reached toward him, but he had turned around. Ignoring her. Whirling, she did as he asked. She fled.
From that day forward, Sebastian determined to treat Leah as simply another member of his household. She would be a wife, but only as she’d wanted: one that shared his name but not his bed, someone to be a mother to Henry but who was free to come and go about the grounds as she pleased.
If they were ever in the same room alone, Sebastian found a reason to summon a servant or leave to see to some sort of business. Often the business entailed hours of staring down at ledgers his steward submitted to him while thinking about Leah, or pretending to read a book in his bedchamber while thinking about Leah, or half listening to James during one of his regular visits while thinking about Leah.
Perhaps if it was only desire that kept him tied to her, it would have been easier to dismiss this obsession. But it was more than the lush curve of her upper lip and the slender sway of her hips. It was the humor in her eyes as she discussed politics with him and James over dinner, the intelligent arguments she made when she was certain she was right, and then after she won a discussion, the easy manner in which she turned the conversation back to Sebastian as if she wanted to know what he would say next.
Angela, too, had been intelligent and kind. But if he tried to compare her to Leah, he could see now that Angela had always let him win their discussions; her kindness had actually been a means of placating him, her laughter meant more for his satisfaction that her own enjoyment.
Like Angela, Leah also had an air about her that she was trying to contain herself, to be as others expected. But where Angela had maintained that mask perfectly, Leah’s continually slipped. More and more, her polite smiles were turning into grins, her sedate strolls into strides.
One day when frost layered the grass, he caught her dancing in the fields with Henry although she had said they were to go pick the late-blooming flowers.
Leah held Henry to her chest, one arm about his waist while her other hand clasped his, keeping a flower tucked inside his fist. As Sebastian strolled nearer, he could hear her humming a waltz as she danced across the field which served as their imaginary dance floor.
“What flower?” Henry asked, staring at their joined hands.
“I’m not sure. I believe it’s a chrysanthemum, although we’d do better to ask the gardener. I know plenty about roses, but not much else.”
Then she swung him in a tight circle—once, twice, three times as Henry let his head fall back and giggled at the autumn sky.
That made her laugh, and the sight of them together, hearing his son’s laughter tangled with hers—if Sebastian wasn’t certain he loved her before, there was no way he could deny it now.
Sebastian stopped a few feet away, hiding in the shadow of a large oak. Leah stopped spinning, and they weaved back and forth for a moment as she seemed to catch her balance.
“I must say, my lord Henry,” she said breathlessly, “you are a very accomplished dancer.”
Henry smiled at her and leaned over, pointing at the ground. “Flower.”
“Yes, a few more flowers.” Leah put him down, and took the flower he gave her from his hand before he bent to pick more. She crouched beside him, her hand brushing across his hair before settling at his back. Their voices were too low now; only murmurs came to Sebastian’s ears as they studied the flowers and the grass.
Pushing away from the tree, Sebastian clasped his hands behind his back and walked forward. “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, deliberately focusing his gaze on Henry.
Henry’s head jerked up, his face brightening as he pointed at the ground. “Bug, Papa! Spider!”
“Ah. A spider is it? I thought we were looking at flowers.” Sebastian glanced at Leah with a rueful twist of his mouth, telling himself not to notice how her face seemed to brighten at his presence, too.
She shook her head and stood to her feet, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Apparently spiders are much more interesting than flowers, my lord. Eight legs? And they crawl? What little boy wouldn’t be fascinated?”
“Indeed.”
Leah withheld her sigh and forced herself to smile wider. Sebastian wasn’t rude or unfriendly. He was simply . . . aloof. Distant. She could tell he struggled with it—probably didn’t want her to feel lonely, no doubt—but for all the times that he invited her opinion on something or flirted with her, there were an equal number of times that he allowed his gaze to drift away from hers when they were talking until they both fell silent, or found a reason to excuse himself from her presence when only a few minutes had passed in the same room together.
Therefore, as they were accustomed lately, instead of looking at each other they turned their gazes and looked at Henry.
Henry, who kept trying to get the spider to walk onto a blade of grass. Finally, ingeniously—he was Sebastian’s son, after all—he plucked another blade of grass and scooped the spider up with the two together. “Look, Papa,” he urged.
Sebastian bent down and put his hand on his chin, studying the small insect which scrabbled back and forth, from one edge to another. Then he gasped. “Look at its eyes!” he exclaimed.
Henry leaned forward, nearly dropping the grass in an attempt to bring the blades closer to his face. “He has four eyes!” he said, then looked at his father, his own blue eyes wide with wonder.
“Hmm. So he does. And look, do you see this black marking at the back?”
Henry nodded even before returning his gaze to the spider, and Leah smiled. How he loved Sebastian, and Sebastian adored him.
Leah had never realized that her dreams of having a child had been unfinished. Now, with Sebastian there, she understood that Ian had always been an addendum to those dreams, not an inherent part of them. But Sebastian—she couldn’t imagine Sebastian not being here, not as part of the picture. She could have been the outsider, but he’d brought her into his family, to have the life she’d dreamed of having. She was now a mother and perhaps—one day, a day she couldn’t foresee, but had hope it would come to pass—she would truly be a wife to Sebastian as well.
Sebastian and Henry studied the spider for a few moments longer. Then Sebastian stood and Henry hurriedly laid the blades of grass and the spider on the ground and lifted up his arms, his hands clenching and unclenching.
With a growl, Sebastian swooped him up and over his shoulders. Sebastian looked at Leah, pretending to ignore Henry’s giggles as he hung upside down over his back. “What say you, my lady? Shall we return to the house?”
Leah bent and picked another flower, then stepped near to Sebastian. Meeting his gaze, she placed the flower in the buttonhole below his cravat. She stepped back, gave him a tentative smile. “Yes, let’s go home.”
Chapter 20
After I danced in your arms tonight, I realized it was the first time I ever remembered feeling like there was hope for us to be together.
“This one?”
“That’s the one.” Sebastian stopped beside Leah and looked up at the oak tree. It was one of the trees on the outskirts of the forest, its lowest branch only a few feet from the ground.
Leah turned to him, her brow lifted. “How kind of you to find the easiest tree for me to climb. I’m sure even Henry could climb it repeatedly without difficulty.”
“Nonsense,” Sebastian answered. “Henry’s only climbed it once.”
She glared at him, and he smiled as she stepped closer to the trunk. True to his word, he’d borrowed a pair of trousers and a shirt from the hall boy. Although the clothes fit her well enough, it was still disturbing—and arousing—to see Leah clad in men’s clothes. When she walked a certain way, taking a full step, the trousers curved lovingly over her backside for a moment, leaving Sebastian’s body aching and wanting.
Leah looked at him over her shoulder. “Shall I start?”
He inclined his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Placing one hand on the trunk, she lifted her foot high until it planted on the low branch, then gave a little jump with her other foot. However, instead of successfully landing on the branch, her first foot slipped. Sebastian leapt forward and caught her as she fell, his arms bracketing her waist.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his lips moving against her hair, his heart thudding hard in his chest.
“I’m fine. You may let me go.”
“I’m not sure,” he said, running his hands along her sides, skimming over her hips.
She escaped from his embrace and whirled to glower at him.
“You’re so small and fragile,” he teased. “Perhaps I should teach you how to climb up on my bed first. It’s a little lower to the ground.”
She narrowed her eyes and turned her back to him, but not before he spied a faint blush rising in her cheeks. As she lifted her first foot onto the branch again, Sebastian stepped beside her, putting his hand at her lower back for support.
“Yes, because that’s very helpful,” she said, not looking at him.
“This time, try swinging your leg completely over. Then, once you’re straddling the branch, you can use the trunk to lever yourself up.”
Her mouth pursed, but she did as he instructed. Sebastian kept his hand upon her as she moved to straddle the branch—first her back, then her waist and her thigh. When she placed her hands on either side of the trunk to stand, the material of her borrowed shirt stretched and pulled, revealing the slight curve of her breast. Sebastian’s hand faltered, slipping from her leg.
Leah stood on the branch by herself and looked down at him. “Are you coming or not?”
It had been a long time since he’d climbed trees, but his body seemed to remember well, giving him the balance needed to straddle the branch then stand up without support of the trunk. He faced Leah. “Impressed?”
“Indeed. Especially since we’ve already established that even a child could climb this tree.”
“Perhaps, but not quite as well.” He pointed upward. “Keep going.”
Leah continued climbing, Sebastian supporting her as best he could. She only slipped once more, when there was a gap a little wider than the length of her leg between two branches. After that, Sebastian made sure he climbed ahead of her, so that he was able to pull her up when she had troubles.
At last they sat upon a branch twenty feet above the ground, the highest one left that would support both their weights. Although it was cold, their exertion from climbing the tree had left them warm and breathing hard, their breath fogging the air as they exhaled.
“Congratulations, Lady Wriothesly. You have now climbed a tree.”
She turned her face toward him, the widest smile upon her lips, wider even than when he’d first mentioned the word “reckless.” “Thank you, my lord,” she said, and leaned into him, her shoulder fitting against his side.
Other books
The Path of the Wicked by Caro Peacock
The Highland Countess by M.C. Beaton
Jessica (Tucked In 2) by Kuhn, N
The Desert Princess by Jill Eileen Smith
El caballero del jubón amarillo by Arturo Pérez-Reverte
The Dragon Wicked by B. V. Larson
Virgin (A Real Man, 2) by Jenika Snow
Faking It by Diane Albert
El prisma negro by Brent Weeks
Once Upon a Gypsy Moon by Michael Hurley
