The Seduction of Sebastian St. James (House of Renwick)
Author: Dyken, Rachel Van
Date: 2011-12-22 00:00:00+08:00
Keywords: Romance; Historical Fiction; Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Rachel Van Dyken; The Ugly Duckling Debutante; Kindle romance; Sensual romance; Astraea Press; London; Regency London; Under 3.00 Kind
Description: When the angelic Duke of Tempest, Sebastian St. James, appeared unexpectedly at his boyhood friend’s home, he had but one goal: Find a suitable wife as soon as possible. However, his impeccable reputation made him a prime target for ambitious mothers of debutante daughters. He needed a plan. Help came in the form of an unlikely alliance with Miss Emma Gates, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy viscount, who has deemed herself on the shelf, and only wants to marry in order to appease her parents. Together they could sort through the mire of would-be mates to find their perfect matches. That is,
Publisher: Astraea Press

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

THE SEDUCTION OF SEBASTIAN ST. JAMES

Copyright © 2011 RACHEL VAN DYKEN

ISBN 978-1-936852-86-4

Cover Art Designed by Paragraphic Designs

Edited by Kim Bowman

To my Grandpa, who has always supported and encouraged me to follow my dreams. I love you! Smooches!

Prologue

Essex, England

Miss Emma Gates loved to dance. Not that she would ever share this private information with anyone but her dear sister, who was easily bribed and young enough not to care. No. A lady was entitled to her secrets and this was one of hers.

It wasn’t just any kind of dancing she was fond of. No, because dancing with the gentry was quite acceptable for a girl getting ready for her come out. The dancing she enjoyed was more passion-filled than waltzing, although she had to admit waltzing was another favorite.

For some time, she had been practicing the dance of the gypsies. In her heart she knew it was wrong to spy. But every so often a traveling gypsy family would be allowed to stay near their large estate.

One night a few months ago, Emma had been absolutely dying with curiosity as she heard the foreign music glide through her windows. Carefully, she rose from her bed and tiptoed to her door. Looking out the hallway, she took a steadying breathe and made the decision to sneak out of the house. Always accused of being too inquisitive and adventurous for her own good, Emma had told herself this would be the last time she would do something rash before her come out this Season.

Nearing the campground, fire light glowed in the distance. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched in utter fascination as the bronze-colored girls danced with jewelry trilling on their ankles and hands, swishing their fingers this way and that.

It was powerful and fascinating.

Men were captivated, drawn in by the sensual sway of their hips and promise of desire in their eyes. How could they not be? There was something so alluring about the way the gypsies danced, as if they held some secret nobody else in the world knew about. Men weren’t just full of desire for the women, though she could see plenty of that in the way their gazes seemed to follow every sway of the gypsies’ hips. The way the gypsies danced transported Emma and all those who watched to a place of mystery and enticement.

It made her wonder what it would be like to be able to deliver a siren call without speaking at all. To communicate without words. The gypsies’ music spoke to her like nothing else. The idea that she could express her deepest desires through such movements had her bewitched.

The first night she had been too nervous to show herself to the crowd, worried someone might recognize her and tell her parents.

The second night she had ventured out and sat near the edge of the campground.

And the third night, a young girl had approached and offered to teach her, asking for nothing in payment, merely the enjoyment of seeing Emma learn something she obviously found so much delight in.

Emma had been dancing ever since.

She promised herself she would quit once she had a Season, but the temptation was too great. Soon after she made the decision to stop, her fingers and legs would twitch with excitement, begging to be set free by the dance of the gypsies.

Life had a way of making more sense when she could dance. The troubles of the world, of her current betrothal seemed to melt away with the sway of her hips.

Being betrothed was another reason for her current fascination with all things adventurous and forbidden. Her life was over before it started. The man she was betrothed to was a good man, if one could call him a man. At one and twenty he was two years her senior and in a terrible state to be a husband. Having only just finished at University, his only goal in life was to warm the beds of courtesans and gamble away his inheritance. With striking features and a rakish grin, he could easily get away with all seven of the deadly sins and come out unscathed.

So in one last fit of going against the demands of society and her parents, she snuck away to dance. It was the last night before they were to leave for London. After all, the Season would start soon, and although she was betrothed, her parents wanted her to attend. They hoped she would gain some friends, considering most her time would now be spent in London, once the wedding was completed. Not wanting to take any chances of getting caught, she would often practice in the small hunters lodge next to the stream. It was only a mile from her house, close enough for her to feel safe but far enough away she felt she wouldn’t be discovered.

Laughter bubbled out of her as she reached the cabin and slammed the door behind her. The air was charged with excitement. Emma made sure to lock the large wooden door, as was tradition, and then turned to start the fire.

After lighting the nearest lamp, she began swaying her hips. The rhythm started slow and sensual as she lifted her arms above her head and snapped her wrists. And as her hips continued to sway, she allowed her hands to twist and turn, convulsing her body into the familiar rhythm taught to her by her Romany friend.

A loud thump jolted her out of her haze.

She shrieked as a cloaked figure walked toward her.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

His voice sounded gentry. Too much like a gentleman, but there were no gentleman in the area she knew of, other than her betrothed and his family.

She swallowed and slowly walked backward toward the locked door, her mind a jumble of ways she could escape without the man grabbing her. How could she have been so stupid to come out her alone? Yet she had done so for the past two months without disturbance.

“Aw, my pet, do not run away from me just yet. I have something special planned for you.”

“No thank you.” Her voice was weak. Quickly, she turned the notch to unlock the door, but the man's hands pushed her against the wooden frame.

“Oh, you won’t be leaving. There is no way out.”

He slammed her body into the door and began rustling with her skirts.

This was not happening; it could not be happening.

She tried to scream but was immediately silenced by his large hand.

The other hand continued to frantically grab at her skirts. She kicked him in the shin and tried for the door again.

“Okay, pet, now you’ve made me angry.”

With a guttural growl, he ripped open her dress, revealing her bodice, and leered at her breasts. Her corset and chemise still covered her body, but she felt horribly exposed and dirty.

“So you like to tease, do you? You little witch, I should have known you would want me like this. You’ve been begging for months. I almost had you so many times, but now I’ll have you as much as I want. I know you want it too. If you scream it will just make it better for me.” He leaned in so she could smell the reek of brandy on his breath. “Nobody will want you now. Nobody will have you but me.”

Her pulse raced as she fought frantically to free herself from his grasp. Her prayers were answered as the door she was leaning against began to move wildly behind her. Shouts were heard on the other side of the wooden door.

The man cursed and pushed her down before opening the back window and escaping. Utterly exhausted and weak she fell to the ground in one giant heap alternating between sobs and choking.

The door opened revealing her father and their nearest neighbors the Rawlings and, to her horror, the man she was betrothed to. Naturally all they saw was a young girl with her clothes torn, alone and crying.

Nothing needed to be said, because no matter how many times she tried to explain what had happened, nobody believed she hadn’t invited advances from a man. Not even her own parents, and especially not the man who had earlier that year pledged himself to be her husband.

Emma never danced again.

Chapter One

London, England

Four Years Later

Nicholas was convinced his wife of five years had gotten used to his habit of pacing when he had something on his mind. Yet back and forth he went as the clock on the wall chimed noon. He felt it in his skin, in his bones.

She was going to protest.

They’d both been in his study since he brought the suggestion to her ears, and her expression in those past few hours hadn’t changed to anything more agreeable than it was at this moment.

“What exactly do you mean when you say he’s already here?” she inquired, the slight rise in her voice giving away that she was a little more annoyed than he had previously guessed. In a span of five seconds, her mouth was open to ask another question, and he silenced her with his hand.

Usually their arguments went the other way around. All she needed to do was flash a smile in his direction and he would buy the blasted moon, if it would make her happy. But today the tables were turned, because it was he who was asking the favor.

And it was obvious she had more self control than he did, which oddly enough wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances of their marriage. Naturally he assumed it was because she was a woman, but mentioning that around her wasn’t good for his health, which meant he kept his mouth good and shut. Yes, compromising his dear wife before she had any chance to protest had turned out to be the best mistake of his life.

He flashed one of his most genuine and sensual smiles, and noticing the breath steal from her lungs, he leaned over and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

“I did give you his title, did I not? The Good Duke of Tempest? Or as some call him The Angel Duke? He isn’t the sort of rake people describe him as,” he mumbled against her already swollen lips. “Furthermore, I don’t think he’s here to create scandal. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He placed a hand on her cheek. “Need I add he wasn’t nearly as wild as I was in my—" He stopped short of finishing that sentence when he noted the flash of anger on Sara’s face.

“Admittedly, not the best reasoning I could come up with,” he confessed teasingly. “But you must trust me on this.”

****

She shook her head, wise enough not to speak for fear she might kill him with her pointed words. Her expression did the talking as she widened her eyes and tilted her head for more. A better reason was expected, this was Nicholas Renwick speaking. He had a purpose and excuse for everything, God bless him.

Sara cleared her throat, and Nicholas bit his lip and looked away. The tension in the room was enough to send her over the edge of sanity, then again most of the strain had to do with the fact that Nicholas had been denied access to Sara’s bed for the past week on account of being away at their country estate.

Now that he was in the city, it was hard to think of anything else but having her husband in her arms again. It was obvious he shared her feelings, considering every time he looked at her she felt vulnerable enough to blush. The man made no apologies for the way he looked at her. He merely raised an eyebrow and winked in her direction as if that would solve the argument.

Nicholas got up to pace again then stopped and grabbed Sara by the shoulders. “Sweetheart, Seb’s reputation is spotless. His own grandmother even tried to trip him up on account of he’s too concerned for his reputation. Like I said, he’s harmless and quite the uh…gentlemen once you get to know him. I don’t see why letting him stay here will pose a problem for us or for our guest. Do you even know why his reputation is so famous? It’s not because he was a rake of the first order. It was because nobody could seem to catch him.”

Sara let out the breath she had been mindlessly holding. “So he’s an arrogant rake?” Nicholas gave her a warning look. “Well, why doesn’t he just stay in his townhome? He is a duke, and a wealthy one at that.”

“You are correct, but you’re forgetting that his sister and her cousins are staying there for the Season. It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be in a house full of unmarried ladies. It would be more comfortable for him to stay here instead of a house full of green girls. His grandmother is chaperoning them for the Season.” Nicholas knelt next to Sara. “And I haven’t seen him in years. It would be nice to have him near. Don’t we have enough space to accommodate ten families if we desired?”

It was true, Sara thought. Renwick House was one of the larger mansions in Mayfair, bigger than the duke’s own home, which was almost blinding to look at it was so massive. And Nicholas hadn’t seen his friend in so long…

Yes, it would probably be best for Sebastian to stay with them. But what of her cousin? She was to arrive any minute. She was also coming to town for the Season. Her cousin was two years past a marriageable age and while not desperate, needed to secure a husband before her return to the country estate.

Her cousin Emma was of good birth and breeding. Honestly she just didn’t want the infamous rake to gain wind of the scandal that had taken place with her dear cousin. Even Nicholas wasn’t aware of the girl’s sordid past. Although she loathed keeping things from her husband, this was one secret that wasn’t hers to tell. It would be up to Emma whom she would deem worthy of her tragic tale.

Sara had been wondering for months how the girl had faired after such an ordeal. Hopefully the emotional scars did not run too deep. Obviously she felt ready for marriage or she would not have asked for Sara to chaperone.

Resting her head on her hands, she sighed as her husband continued with reasons why the duke must stay with them.

“Sara, he’s looking for a wife, not a mistress,” Nicholas argued.

She had only caught the last part and nodded.

The mention of a mistress sent Sara’s blood to boil. Nicholas took note and grinned wildly before he said, “Do you trust me?”

“No.” She crossed her arms and scowled.

“Liar,” he whispered in her ear. The air around her face tensed as he trailed hot kisses down her neck. “I’ve missed you.” He moaned into her hair before kissing her ear, alternating between licking and biting. She closed her eyes in ecstasy.

His mouth soon found hers. Minutes later she was splayed across him, absolutely wrung with pleasure. Drat the man and his seduction abilities.

“Fine,” she mumbled as she fixed the front of her dress. “He can stay.”

“Ahem.”

Both Sara and Nicholas turned toward the door, scurrying to straighten their wrinkled clothing.

****

Sara was too focused on her own embarrassment to take in the man who had interrupted them, until the maid walked in and promptly dropped the refreshments on the floor. With a blush, she fell to her knees and began cleaning up the mess. Sara watched utterly puzzled as the maid frantically stacked the china onto her tray. Within minutes she had finished, albeit loudly as china moved around the tray, and with a squeal scurried out of the room.

Sebastian had been turned toward the exiting maid, and then his gaze was back on Sara.

Her mouth dropped open.

Nicholas leaned in. “It’s not polite to stare, m’dear.”

Her eyes widened in shock. Next to her husband, the man standing before her was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on.

A warning label should come with such men. Not that it would have kept her away from Nicholas, but still.

From his rakishly charming smile to his haunting blue eyes, the man was a force to be reckoned with. His dimples ran deep connecting with a firm jaw line and aristocratic nose. His eyes, while clearly blue, were so large it was almost uncomfortable to look at him directly.

As if reading her thoughts, the golden-haired Adonis smiled, making Sara immediately close her eyes and shake her head. His perfectly straight teeth and dimples added to the already devastating effect.

“Sara, are you unwell?” Nicholas asked, concern lacing his voice. “Here, why don’t you sit down?”

She shook her head, then glanced between the two men, mumbling under her breath, “I don’t even want to know. I truly don’t.” It was impossible to imagine what the two men had done to the ladies of the ton in their day.

Sebastian and Nicholas grinned at one another then embraced.

“Both of you were launched into society at the same time?” she asked.

Nicholas nodded while Sebastian winked. And though she didn’t think it possible, his dimples became more pronounced, making it blasted hard not to smile back.

Sara took a steadying breath and smiled for the first time at Sebastian. “Your grace, words cannot even begin to describe how interesting I feel the next couple of weeks will be.”

“My sentiments exactly,” he murmured, kissing her outstretched hand.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m going to go make sure our maid is still breathing. Good day.” She curtsied and floated out of the room.

Sebastian was still staring at her disappearing figure when Nicholas cleared his throat.

“Catching a cold, my friend?” Sebastian teased.

Nicholas shook his head in warning at Sebastian’s obvious interest in his wife.

Sebastian grinned. “I was just taking in the beauty of the only woman who was brave enough to shackle you.”

Nicholas grunted. “Be that as it may, I would like you to keep your appreciation of my wife’s many charms to yourself, if it’s not too much to ask.”

Sebastian chuckled. He’d always liked Nicholas. Correction, he loved Nicholas. They were like brothers. It still pained Sebastian that he hadn’t been in the country when Nicholas had been going through such a rough time in his life. The guilt, although small, still ate at him when he thought of not being able to offer the support Nicholas had so obviously needed.

Sara was apparently the balm he had needed to his soul, and for that reason, Sebastian would always be grateful. Because the woman had brought back the man he had always admired, brought him back straight from the grave.

“So,” Nicholas said, walking over to the liquor cabinet. “You need a wife?”

Sebastian took a seat on the nearest chair, trying his best not to laugh at his friend’s bluntness. “You could say that.” He had been searching for a future duchess for many weeks now, but no woman in his acquaintance even held a candle to the beauty of Nicholas’s wife, or to her spirit. It was going to be deuced hard to find a woman who would hold Sebastian’s attention.

As if reading his thoughts, Nicholas interjected, “You can’t have my wife, so I would greatly appreciate you wiping that ridiculous grin off of your ducal face before I lose my patience. Considering, she is firmly out of your grasp, to your utter sadness, I can see.” Nicholas shook his head. “I believe I am more than capable of helping you find a woman who caters to your…needs.”

“They’re so young,” Sebastian groaned, ignoring Nicholas’s warning speech. “And boring, and although I am painfully aware I do not need to continue to complain, have you seen what I’m up against out there? Vultures, all of them. Say, why don’t you and Sara just pick one?”

“Just pick one?” Nicholas repeated slowly, raising his eyes heavenward. “You are aware we are not out shopping for horseflesh but attempting to find you a future duchess? Do keep that in mind, old friend.”

“It’s the only thing on my mind,” Sebastian said, greedily taking the glass of brandy from Nicholas’s hand.

Lifting his eyes, he scanned his old friend. Nature had been good to Nicholas. Then again nature had been good to both of them. Each of them were in their early thirties, but neither of them looked a day over twenty-five.

In his rakish days, Nicholas had had many of the mamas of the ton hiding their daughters from his penetrating gaze. Some said that a look from Nicholas would cause even married women to sway. His appearance was positively sinful. Everything about him was dark, from his hair to his black as night brows. The only light on his face seemed to come from the icy blue of his eyes. It was assumed that associating with Nicholas would cause any woman to sin or worse, send them to Hell. Sebastian never had that issue with women. While women were captivated and a bit frightened of Nicholas, they were mesmerized by Sebastian.

While Nicholas had been labeled as sinful, Sebastian had been labeled as beautiful.

Far too beautiful, if you asked him.

In fact if another woman called him beautiful, he was going to inflict pain on someone, or something. It was blasted hard being a beautiful man, not that it hadn’t given him some pleasure in his earlier years.

While Nicholas walked around with his devilishly dark features, Sebastian had always strolled around with a glowing effect to his features. Add in his dimples and all around joyful attitude and voila, a perfect recipe for young debutantes and forward mamas.

It obviously had never occurred to any of the females in Sebastian’s acquaintance how blatantly rude they were being when they literally could not find the strength to tear their eyes away. In fact, many women thought he wanted to be called beautiful, but as a man, the last thing he wanted to be labeled with was the same word he used to seduce women.

Sebastian took a long sip of brandy and sighed.

The sigh was not lost on Nicholas, who right away started pouring him another drink.

"You do realize it’s not as if I have to marry for a purpose other than presenting an heir," Sebastian complained mostly to himself, although Nicholas gave him a head nod to acknowledge he was listening to the lamentation pouring forth from Sebastian’s lips. "Furthermore, I don't see why every single debutante has to be so stupid."

"Here, here,” Nicholas said, lifting his glass. "I do understand."

"Spare me." Sebastian shook his head in protest. "At least you have a beautiful wife to dote on whose voice doesn't shriek the way some girls do."

Sebastian felt a sudden headache coming on. What he needed was an arranged marriage where he could get an heir and also have a mistress on the side, but those days, as he told Nicholas, were well behind him. And although he would die before admitting it, he did want to get married. Call it curiosity or maybe insanity, but he felt it was time to settle down and actually have a family, a real family. He owed his parents at least that much.

Sebastian watched Nicholas as he went and looked out the window. The poor man probably had a terrible time keeping his hands off his wife. What would it be like to have a companion you both lusted after and loved? His mind was incapable of imagining it.

A maid entered, carrying a note. Nicholas offered an apology before stepping out of the room, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts.

Sighing, he leaned his head back against the chair, all the while swirling the amber liquid around his glass. It wasn’t that he considered himself an unhappy man. Indeed he felt content and overall satisfied with his life. Women often commented on his optimistic demeanor, thinking it a ruse to get them into bed. But to Sebastian it had always seemed that most men wasted valuable time being upset or angry when they had it within their capabilities to fix their situation in the first place. Was life not meant to be lived to the fullest?

Most of his existence had been less than charmed. In fact, if anyone had anything to be bitter about, it was Sebastian. He had inherited his title at the early age of one and seven.

Both of his parents had died in a carriage accident, leaving his grandmother to finish raising him on her own. If one could call bossing the staff around on how to treat the Duke of Tempest raising.

He did love his grandmother. It wasn’t her fault his parents had died, nor was it his, as she had reminded him that fateful day.

“Sebastian, my boy, you could not help what happened,” she had said, petting his yellow curls. “It is in the Lord’s hands, dear boy. Bad things happen, and we must trust in Him.”

He still had trouble processing his grandmother’s wise words. He knew them to be astute, but that didn’t make them easy for him to put into practice. In fact, she had a horrible time dealing with him. It was no wonder she was constantly bossing everyone around trying to gain some semblance of control over her defiant grandson.

But he had been mourning. Men struggle trying to understand why things happen the way they do. Adolescents who are not yet fully grown have an even more difficult time, especially when it’s their fault the people they loved the most in the world had to perish. He took another sip of brandy as a melancholy fog rested on his broad shoulders.

He hadn’t thought about his childhood in a long while. He must have drunk more brandy than he originally imagined. Then again, Nicholas was good at refilling his glass when he was brooding. Something Sebastian was hardly ever guilty of.

Maybe his grandmother could shed some light on his marriage situation. After all she was the one breathing hot coals down his neck about reformation and forgiveness. It wasn’t even as if he had lived such a terribly rakish life. In fact he was known as the angel duke by quite a few of the gentry. It wasn’t necessarily his heavenly and joyous demeanor, though it did seem to help. No, in truth he had been given the title after rescuing a small girl from near death. It also didn’t hurt that people had a hard time attaching any sort of scandal to his name. Oh he had done his fair share of taking mistresses and sowing wild outs across the continent, he was just remarkably talented at keeping people quiet, giving more credence to his reputation that no woman could seduce him.

He’d like to see them try.

The one woman ever close to succeeding only did so because she was foolish enough to make it her goal for an entire year, and even then he knew what she was about, finally giving in just so the poor thing wouldn’t run headfirst into the nearest street.

Unfortunately it was becoming clearer as he aged that women were easy to read and extremely similar in their dispositions. Having a wife would be, in his mind, akin to having a nice pet. A creature you dress up when it was time for fancy dinners and reproduce with to gain an heir. Anything outside of that was relatively pointless. He had his gentleman friends for lively conversation and his grandmother for nagging.

Yes, although part of him was jealous of Nicholas’s good luck, another part of him was terrified he would find someone who had the ability to take such a strong hold on his heart that he would be in constant terror of losing her. Such a woman did not exist, and even if she did, she was probably boring and ugly, leaving him to feel again quite good about his decision to let Nicholas help him pick out a bride.

Although Nicholas had been joking, it was quite like picking out a horse. He needed to leave his heart out of it and use his head. What he required was a young happy woman who would bear his children and be a good duchess.

What he should do was write a list. Yes, a list explaining the characteristics he required of his future bride. Surely it would help Nicholas out.

Getting up, he walked around to the large desk and sat in the chair. He heard a tiny giggle. Pausing, he looked around the room and shrugged. Must be his imagination.

And then something grasped his leg. A loud curse escaped his mouth, echoing through the room.

“My father says that’s a dirty word. Is it a dirty word, your grace?” interrupted a smaller version of his old friend, hiding beneath the desk with mud on his face and some sort of jelly on his fingers.

Perfect, he only hoped he wasn’t acting as the child’s napkin.

“Does your dad use that word?” Sebastian fired back with a question of his own.

The little boy giggled then crooked his finger for Sebastian to lean closer. Like an idiot, he fell for the trick just as the little boy’s hands firmly grasped the crisp folds of his cravat. “My daddy says not to tell my mama. Sometimes he says it when he is angry. Like the time I brought a frog to church. That was fun!”

You know what else is fun? Washing one's hands.

“There you are!” Nicholas said from the doorway.

Samuel sunk behind the desk again. Sebastian closed his eyes, hoping the jelly stains on his perfectly white cravat would somehow disappear as well.

“Samuel.” Nicholas’s voice took a warning edge, making Sebastian feel the need to adjust the cravat for more air. Devil take it, even he started to sweat when he heard Nicholas’s voice turn threatening. Sebastian stole a glance at Samuel, who shook his head and crossed his arms.

Not the wisest of choices, young fellow.

Instead of taking the smart option of apologizing, the boy decided to take the road less traveled and ran.

Bless him, he didn’t get far. Nicholas’s trained hands darted out and grabbed the boy’s shirttails just as he was passing the doorframe. He let out a screech so mind-blowingly loud that Sebastian was convinced hearing loss would soon follow.

Fully caught red handed, or in Samuels case jelly handed, he did what any young boy of his age would do.

He smiled.

And Sebastian’s heart clenched.

How Nicholas could even punish the young cherub was beyond him. Yet Nicholas did just that, giving the boy a firm, yet loving, sit down. At the end of the lecture he demanded Samuel apologize to Sebastian.

Just don’t turn those giant blue eyes on me.

And the boy circled toward him. Alligator tears slowly dripping down his red cheeks.

Deliver me, Lord.

“Y-y-your grace?”

Sebastian got down on one knee and put out his hand for Samuel to shake. It seemed even at a young age boys knew how often things were fixed by the firm shaking of one’s hand. His face immediately brightened as he shook Sebastian’s hand then saluted him as if he was royalty.

He had no option but to salute back.

Samuel ran off, leaving Sebastian’s face still in a smile, until he met Nicholas’s brooding gaze.

“Uh, it was nothing.” Sebastian dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“He shouldn’t be spying,” Nicholas clipped.

“He’s a boy.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Don’t discourage him from being so carefree. Boys should grow up to be—”

“I’m sorry, it sounded as if the Duke of Tempest, sworn bachelor, was just contemplating giving me parenting advice.” Nicholas lifted an eyebrow in shock.

Sebastian scowled and crossed his arms. “I was merely going to say he deserves room to grow.”

Nicholas snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’ll just enjoy rubbing this conversation in your face when you produce a tiny replica of yourself and that replica decides to hide frogs in your bed.”

You have no idea how tired of waiting I am. Sebastian dismissed the thought, feeling suddenly uncomfortable that it was in his head in the first place. Something was seriously wrong with him. Taking a mistress, getting foxed, and gambling, those were the things that should be in the forefront of his mind. Not chasing jelly handed children around the house.

Being surrounded by married friends was obviously playing with his normally calm and cheerful demeanor. He needed another drink. Or had he already had a few? Obviously his memory had been affected as well. The sooner he wrote the deuced list and chose a bride, the better.

As if reminding himself, he announced rather loudly, “I’ve decided to write a list of things I would like in a wife. Then you and Sara may choose the best fit.”

“Why is that not surprising?” came the sarcastic remark from behind him. Only the words did not come from a male voice, no. They came from a voice that would haunt him for the rest of the night. Slowly he turned to see what defiant creature belonged to such an irresistible voice.

Sweet Lord.

Chapter Two

Emma Gates pretended the air hadn’t escaped her lungs the minute the Duke of Tempest turned around to face her. She also pretended her pulse hadn’t jumped wildly as she watched his hands clench into fists beside his muscular body. In one last effort to conceal her absolute shock that the rumors of this attractive duke hadn’t even begun to do him justice, she pasted a smile on her face that would have sent a priest to confession…and waited.

All in vain.

He didn’t seem the least bit affected.

Odd, she had once been told her smile made men weep.

No tears.

Drat. She’d lost her touch.

She shrugged her shoulders and did a little curtsy out of respect.

“Emma, allow me to introduce you to the Duke of Tempest.” Nicholas took a gallant step forward and kissed her outstretched hand. Years ago Nicholas would have been the least likely person to save her from social disgrace. Now he and Sara seemed to be her saving grace daily. They were only too kind in allowing her to stay with them for a season. Desperate to leave the choking presence of her parents, she nearly offered to travel over night in order to arrive sooner.

Nicholas turned toward Tempest and grinned. “Your grace, I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting—“

“Miss Emma Gates, your grace.” Emma curtsied lower this time and allowed her eyes to boldly scan the muscular stance of his legs. The curve of his thighs molded into firm calves tightly bound in hessian boots. His legs were sinful. He was sinful.

She hadn’t allowed herself to actually entertain thoughts of the opposite sex in some time. Ever since…the incident. Then again, it had defined her. She was better off not noticing how attractive other men were. It hadn’t been a problem before. Not until now.

She found herself cursing him all over again as he bent his wickedly angelic head over her hand and brushed his soft lips across her knuckles. It was the most proper of kisses, yet she felt positively heated as the feel of their momentary touch lingered on her person.

Recoiling, she stepped sideways and took a seat on the nearest chair. Naturally it wasn’t because she needed to. No, it was because at any moment she was positive she would swoon, and Emma Gates never swooned.

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Miss Gates?” The duke’s low baritone caressed her body.

Shivering in response, she answered, “Why, your grace, I should think that would be obvious.”

“Is it now?” He seemed perplexed. “I await with baited breath. Please, do share.”

“I’m to be married.”

“To whom?” He took a seat next to her, eyes riveted on her face.

Saints above! Did the man blink? Since squirming in her seat was out of the question, considering gentle bred ladies did not shift, she clenched her dress between her hands and managed to calm her nerves. His eyes seemed to read her soul. She should have prayed before entering the room.

Always known for her bluntness, she admitted, “I haven’t yet chosen him. Never fear, I’ll be sure to notify him before the wedding. Naturally.”

The duke coughed to hold his laugh in, failing miserably. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous, dear girl?”

“Not at all!”

“How do you figure?”

“Well.” She shrugged and watched in fascination as his eyes scanned the curve of her neck as she did so. She should be outraged. Instead a feeling of pleasure descended on her. Warmth pooled in her belly. Looks like his were what cause innocent debutantes to abandon their chaperones.

Angel duke indeed.

“Do you mean to tell me men attend all of the Season's balls for the sport of it? No, sir. I hate to disagree, but men go for the same reasons women do. They too need to find a mate. So I should say any man would be thrilled to get it over with as soon as possible. I find myself doing them a service.”

His eyes flared for a minute. Looking away he swallowed slowly, muscles tensing in his classically lined jawbone, before answering, “A service, of course.”

Whatever he meant by that comment was obviously lost on Emma as she focused her attention on Sara, who had just entered the room.

Bringing in an heir of sensuality and sweetness matched by no one in Emma’s social circle, she embraced her as if they were more than cousins. Sisters, in fact. If only that were true.

Emma’s own sister despised her. It wasn’t always that way, but after the incident, her parents had felt so responsible for not keeping an eye on her that they were positively insane when it came to the youngest of the family. Abigail, her sister had not been pleased that during the year that was to be her come out, her parents had decided the eldest, Emma, should be launched first. After all, it was only proper that the eldest get at least one Season, even if it was in vain. The last thing they had wanted was whispers of scandal concerning the oddity of having a younger sister out before Emma was even presented to society. And Emma could only feign illness and staying with her grandmother for so long before people became curious as to her situation.

Embarrassing as it was, it became apparent that in order for her sister to be a success as well as scandal free, Emma needed to go to London first.

Either way, Abigail was not pleased. She had cried for days until Emma had promised she would quickly find someone to marry this Season and be done with it. Besides, Abigail was still one and seven—young for the marriage mart to be sure. She was also the favorite. Emma was fortunate her parents still chose to feed and clothe her after everything that had happened so many years ago. It hadn’t mattered that nothing had taken place. What mattered were people’s impressions, and because of appearances, she was now forever stained with ruin. All before ever receiving her first kiss.

Emma watched as Sara went over to Nicholas and whispered something in his ear. His darkly handsome face glowed with contentment, Emma sighed. What would it be like to have a relationship where both people respected each other so much? It was a dream that would never be her reality. It was better for her to steel herself against affairs of the heart. She would only end up disappointed, for her parents had reminded her several times that tied in with her dowry was their version of the truth of what had happened. And with that, any person who proposed would know of her disgrace. Only after they married, so they would be stuck with her. She would never do that to someone she cared for. Attach herself to their family name, making it impossible to get out of the marriage without even more scandal.

Her eyes fell on Nicholas, someone who was all too familiar with scandal. It gave her hope that one day she might find peace and happiness. With a bow, Nicholas excused himself, mumbling something about his youngest getting jelly all over his nanny.

The duke’s laughter jerked Emma back to reality as she noticed him shake his head in amusement.

“Do you find something amusing, your grace?” Emma inquired.

“Smiling about your fate are you, dear friend?” Nicholas paused before exiting the room with Sara. “It seems he and you are in town for the same reason, dear girl. The duke must find a bride this Season, and you must find a husband. Although bets are on you landing a husband before he even sets foot at his first ball. He has the uncanny ability to repel any lady of class within miles.”

“Guess I deserve that for encouraging young Samuel,” Tempest said gloomily.

“Yes well…” Nicholas bowed before finishing. “He’s now playing Mr. Duke in the front of the house and has decided life would be much more fun if he wiped jelly on his nanny and threw caution to the wind.”

Tempest nodded seriously while Emma tried to cover up her laughter.

“What exactly do you mean by—” The duke didn’t get a chance to finish because just then Samuel ran by screaming and stark naked.

“Good day,” Nicholas said, exiting the room at a dead run with Sara following close behind.

“Well, that was more excitement than I had hoped to see this afternoon,” Tempest joked as he rose from his seat.

Emma noticed an envious twitch in his eyes as he straightened his already perfectly smooth jacket.

“Leaving so soon, your grace?”

His pensive gaze traveled across her face before settling on her lips. She hadn’t even had time to lick them as he approached her.

“What would you have me do? Sit in my best friend’s drawing room with his wife’s cousin? Alone? Unchaperoned? Whatever would people say?”

He was openly mocking her, and for some reason, it sent a chill down her spine. He was exciting and she had missed excitement in her life for the past few years.

Gathering her wits, she reached toward an escaped curl on his forehead and pushed it back. “Why, your grace, I have to admit disappointment.”

Without moving he asked, “Disappointment?”

“Of course.” Her hand now rested on his shoulder as she provocatively leaned in. “One would think your reputation was all a ruse. I find myself saddened to see that others’ opinions of you decide with whom you associate and when.”

“Are you implying, dear girl, I should stay and chat like one of your gossip-ridden girl friends?”

“Gossip, no. But ride? I could go for one of those.”

His face blanched. “I’m sorry?”

“A ride through the park, silly.” She slapped him on the shoulder and sauntered away. “That is, only if it does not make you uncomfortable, your grace. After all, I do have a care for your opposition in spending time with a gossip-ridden lady of the ton.”

Emma was on fire. It was exhilarating. The Duke of Tempest wasn’t a man to be trifled with. Yet a part of her was saddened he had never once been the type of man to let his hair down, emotionally that is. Of course, he was known for being the most captivating and joyful of the peerage.

The man couldn’t breathe without the gossip mills finding out about it. She assumed he used his confident and easy-going personality as protection from those who would love nothing more than to see the man fall off his high horse.

Emma, having already fallen off her high horse, felt sympathy for him. It was easy living a life where people put no expectations on you, for your only choice was to keep climbing up. But those who were already the toast of the ton, they were the ones who lived the truly maddening lives. They had to stay in the newspapers and among the gossip during the Seasons affairs, at all costs.

The Duke of Tempest had always been well liked and respected, even among the mamas of the ton. Oh it was common knowledge he’d had his affairs, but the gossips never mentioned courtesans. No, the only women tied to him were the widowed who openly engaged in an affair with him, at least that’s the only information she had heard of him over the years. His reputation was to be spotless. It all started when he saved a small girl from drowning while he was at Eton. The next week he stopped a runaway carriage. The following year he saved the prince himself from a fall down the stairs. Which wasn’t all that heroic, except it saved embarrassing the royal family.

People were ready to have the duke sainted after all those incidents. So, he came to have the nickname “The Angel Duke.” Surely he thought it was silly, but Emma found it odd how easily it fit.

She swallowed and gloomily looked down at her hands. If he only knew what spending time with her would do to him. Well, he would most likely shout at everyone within distance, all the while pushing her in front of the first oncoming carriage.

Her secret was like a disease, making it impossible for her to keep anyone close no matter how badly she desired it.

Adventure was her only companion now, and her body ached for it the way it used to ache for dancing. If she could feel the wind against her face, the sand between her toes, water dancing on her skin, only then did the memories of that night seem to fade away. Adventure was to be her lover.

Love for Emma Gates would never happen. Love was saved for pure girls. Girls with little to no scandal.

“Just a short one then,” the duke answered gruffly.

“A short?” she asked confused. Apparently they had been in active conversation the whole time. Emma cursed her tendency to woolgather.

Tempest grinned. “A ride. That is if the offer still stands. I find myself curious as to your riding abilities, Miss Gates.”

Licking her lips, she bit back a smile. “I daresay they more than trump your own.”

He shrugged as if conveying a message of humility. “I gather we shall see about that. Meet me at the front in an hour. It should give you adequate time to change into a habit while I ready the horses.”

She exited the room only to hear him call after her.

“Shouldn’t you ask Sara to accompany us?”

“For what reason?” Emma turned back as he approached her.

“It isn’t at all proper for a lady to go about without a chaperone? I daresay you’ve been in the country far too long, Miss Gates.”

Emma grinned. “Oh, I see. You’re frightened to be alone with me.”

He cursed in answer then ran a hand through his hair. “I am a man.”

“I see, and were you confused about your sex before our little talk?”

Emma shocked herself with her bluntness.

Sebastian turned away laughing. “As amusing as you might be, I have a care for your reputation.”

“Don’t.” Emma fought to keep her voice even as she met Tempest’s calculating gaze. “I assure you, I’m not a debutante out to seduce you, nor will my reputation be in question, your grace.” Difficult for a reputation to be in jeopardy when it’s already been destroyed. “Now, would you rather discuss chaperones and propriety or go for a ride?”

Emma fought the desire to look away as Sebastian’s piercing eyes continued to question her as if trying to figure out what had brought on her answer. Finally he shook his head and held out his hand.

The air stilled as she put her hand in his. Warm lips caressed her knuckles sending a thrill down to her toes, “A ride through the park, of course.”

“Good, I’ll just be a minute then.”

Chapter Three

Sebastian paced in the entryway, trying his best to look casual as he heard footsteps tap lightly across the marble staircase.

With each step his fist seemed to get tighter and tighter. As if the person’s footsteps had a direct connection with the tension he felt all over his body.

He was still perplexed at her offhand comment concerning reputations. Didn’t every girl worry about reputations? And why wasn’t Nicholas yelling at him for taking the girl out on her first day in London? It wasn’t necessarily frowned upon to take a lady for a jaunt in the park during the fashionable time of the afternoon. But he wasn’t so ignorant to believe that tongues wouldn’t be wagging after they were seen together. Self preservation told him it would be best to attach himself to Miss Gates in a brotherly way. After all, they were staying at the same house, which was cause enough for scandal. But if he could attain that they were as close as cousins, well then, there should be no problems for either of them in the near future.

It both bothered and intrigued him how easily he had fallen to her little challenge. But it wasn’t a crime to want to spend more time with her. Surely all the marriage talk wasn’t affecting his normally sound mind when it came to passing the hours with women? And even he was self-assured enough to know he wasn’t falling for a woman he barely knew merely because she challenged him at every step. The female race as a whole was provoking. It was their curse and a man’s burden.

He stole another glance to where Miss Gates had disappeared; would she be such a burden? His mind treacherously replayed images of her smile, her almost violet eyes, and beautifully adorned hair. The odd color seemed almost unreal—long velvet locks with shots of read framed her face.

Swallowing the lust that was building inside, he tried to think of anything but the way her mouth curved mischievously when she was verbally sparring with him, or how she bit her plump bottom lip when she seemed to be thinking of an intelligent answer to a question. Groaning he briefly contemplated canceling the trip, considering his body was already responding to the thoughts of her lips and the way she would look beneath—

Cursing, he didn’t finish the thought.

One thing he was sure of, Miss Emma Gates was trouble.

Plain and simple.

Where did Nicholas keep his whiskey again?

“Are the horses ready?” came a chipper voice behind him.

Turning he braced himself for what he knew would be a devastating blow to his already frayed wits. He held out his arm to escort her to the waiting horses.

“Ah, Miss Gates, I was beginning to wonder if you had backed out of our little jaunt to the park.”

Taking his arm, she rolled her eyes. “Sir, I never back down from a challenge.”

“Oddly, I don’t find that hard to believe. Shall we?”

She inclined her head. Waltzing—or what looked like waltzing—in the direction of her horse, she let out another shot of laughter, making Sebastian all the more uncomfortable with her brilliant idea. Why was it that every movement she made gave him the impression she was dancing? Or gliding? It appeared her grace was more than natural. Every action, even that of getting onto her horse, spoke of a deep-rooted sensuality and grace.

Two characteristics many women of his acquaintance lacked.

What did she possess that set her so far beyond those he knew?

He shrugged off the wandering thought and mounted his horse. Naturally the people of the ton were going to go mad with delight when they saw him with a woman in the park. They would surely wonder who this comely creature was. He could only hope they didn’t take imagination too far and assume her to be another one of his mistresses. The poor girl didn’t need that type of reputation, if she was to be launched into society this year.

“Your grace!” Belverd exclaimed, as they entered the park on horseback. Turning, he acknowledged the man who had shouted and looked to his right where Miss Gates had been waiting. Her eyes taunted and twinkled—

And then, she was gone.

Giving a curt nod to Belverd, who was busy watching with a horror-stricken look as Miss Gates’ horse disappeared over the hill, Sebastian took off at a gallop to chase down the obviously suicidal woman.

Was she insane?

At the speed she was traveling, all her horse needed to do was trip and she would be dead. He cursed loudly as his horse neighed an outburst of displeasure at him.

“Just a little further…” he said to himself.

She reached the water and stopped, turning to face him, her face red with exhilaration.

Sebastian struggled to keep his voice even. “Do you have any idea how dangerous your little ride was?”

Her face brightened with laughter.

“You weren’t concerned were you, your grace?”

“Of all the stupid little…”

This was probably the first time he had scowled in years. His anger seeming to increase with each word he spoke.

“Young ladies do not gallop through the park on horseback, Miss Gates. I assure you no husband will want someone so…so…damaged.”

Her face registered immediate anger and shock.

“Damaged?” she repeated, fists clenched. The light in her eyes had dissipated, and in it’s place was darkness and pain.

Sebastian’s patience had already gone out the window. “Yes, Miss Gates, damaged. Your husband hunting abilities will take quite a hit if you fall off your horse racing in the park!”

Swallowing, she nodded her head thoughtfully. “Thank you for your suggestion, your grace. I can see the ride is over.”

With that she turned back toward Renwick House, inclining her head briefly in his direction, before digging her heels into the horse and trotting away.

What just happened? He watched her tense frame get smaller and smaller as she made her way back to the house.

“She looks angry,” a tiny voice said.

What in the?

Nobody was standing next to him.

Perfect. Madness had finally caught up to him. How fortunate.

“Maybe you should draw her a picture.”

Sebastian felt a tug on his pants and looked down.

Samuel, now jelly free thanks to a bath, was standing next to him with his arms crossed, revealing wisdom beyond his years of living.

“What, may I ask, are you doing here, Samuel?”

“Walk.” He smiled.

“Walk,” Sebastian repeated, knowing Nicholas would surely have his son’s hide…again.

“There you are, Master Samuel!” The nanny was running quite wildly toward them.

“I’ll cover you if you want to make a run for it,” Sebastian teased.

Samuel let out a huff of air and rolled his eyes. “I told her we were playing tag. She’s just too slow.”

“Right.” Sebastian had to agree as he watched the nanny awkwardly fumble toward them as if she hadn’t run a day in her life. It might be wise to notify Nicholas that a younger nanny would better suit.

Chapter Four

Sebastian brooded about Miss Gates’ odd reaction the entire way to his townhome. He was utterly exhausted and had only moments to make sure things were prepared for his sister’s arrival before returning to Renwick House. The last thing he needed was three green girls and their shrill-like laughter reverberating through the halls while he tried to calm himself after his confrontation with Miss Gates.

To make matters worse, upon returning, Nicholas had scolded him in front of Samuel as if it was his fault the boy had lost his nanny.

In an effort to protect the small boy from more punishment, Sebastian had taken the blame on himself and was next properly “grounded” from taking rides in the park. Later Nicholas said it was all for show so Samuel would see that even dukes had consequences for their actions.

It was in that moment Sebastian fully took Samuel’s side.

It was not a pretty sight. At the end of the conversation, Samuel and Nicholas had gotten into their second argument in one day over parenting. Obviously Sebastian hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, but considering he was already at his wits end because of Miss Gates, he couldn’t control his raging emotions. Suffice to say, it was why when he left he slammed the door behind him, cursing the entire way home.

The normally joyful Duke of Tempest was obviously on holiday. Replaced with the raging and angry Duke of Tempest who managed to scowl and yell at his best friend over something that wasn’t his business to be discussing.

To make matters worse, as punishment, Nicholas told—not asked, told—Sebastian he was to pick Miss Gates up promptly at eight for her first ball.

It didn’t help matters that in his mind he had already seduced her repeatedly.

By nightfall he had raised his voice at his valet, accidently tripped over a stray dog, and bruised his right knee after slamming his large frame into the carriage door.

Thoughts of Miss Gates ran rampant through his mind. A long night full of shrieking young misses and advantageous mamas was ahead of him. And the worst of it all was the very idea he had to escort Miss Gates and pretend not to be staring at her bee-stung lips. Donning black and white evening attire, he took one last look at himself and gathered his gloves.

Earlier in the day, to his utter dismay given the circumstances, he had brought most of his clothes and belongings to Renwick House. Staying under the same roof of Miss Gates guaranteed him one of the longest seasons of his existence. His only prayer was either she beat him to the altar or Nicholas miraculously find him a proper wife, and find her soon.

He glanced at the clock and swore; it was a minute past eight. He had tried his best to stay in his room until the time came for him to escort the girl. He steeled himself against the lust and anger shooting through his body and reached for his hat. Surely she couldn’t be any lovelier than early today.

Since returning to Renwick House, it seemed the only thing he could think about was Miss Gates and the location of her bedroom. As he walked down the hall, he began preparing himself for her appearance.

He waited at the bottom of the stairs, restlessly twirling his hat in his fingers. A door slammed in the distance and moments later Miss Gates descended the marble staircase. Delicate hands smoothly traced the cherry wood railing. Gaining enough curiosity, he looked at the rest of her and accidently cursed out loud.

Dresses should be outlawed. In fact, it would please him greatly if any woman of at least above average beauty revolted against modern fashion and decided to wear giant loose fitting dresses. Dresses that covered more than hugged. Noticing the sway of her hips as the material seemed to cling and then dance next to her thighs, his eyes swept upward, his only saving grace was that the thick shawl seemed to cover the more appealing parts of her body. He mouthed a prayer of thanks and smiled as she took his outstretched hand and dipped in a low curtsy.

“Why, Miss Gates, you look positively ravishing.” Teeth clenched, he managed to only get out one sentence before gaping again at the cut of her gown. His height gave him the advantage as his eyes scanned beneath the opening of her shawl.

“It’s not for your benefit, so stop staring,” she retorted with a smirk. “I’m supposed to be husband hunting, remember?”

Brazen hoyden! Did it matter that he was staring when every other man in attendance would be doing the same? What prim and proper girl said such things? And to a duke no less! Nicholas needed to keep a closer watch on this girl, if he desired for her to last more than a week without being led out into Vauxhill gardens by the first rake who took a liking to her charms.

Blind fury took over as he clenched her outstretched hand. It irritated him that such a tiny flippant comment would even upset him. Pasting the coolness on his face years of breeding had taught him, he whispered into her ear, “How could I so easily forget my place? Apologies.”

Emma’s eyes squinted at him before she turned and waited for the door to be opened. The ducal carriage was waiting just outside to take them to the ball. Sebastian watched in fascination, it seemed everything she did was graceful. He found himself watching every move as if trying to decipher why the woman had so much fluidity in her motions.

Sebastian heard Nicholas and Sara approach, both of them giving final instructions to the nanny before they left, as well as consequences for Duncan if he again tried to sneak out.

Poor Duncan was back from boarding school and none too pleased to have to stay home while the adults had all the fun. He was also positively smitten with Miss Gates, not that Sebastian blamed the youngster. Then again he was eight by now, so his loyalty was easily swayed. Miss Gates had complimented Samuel on training his dog all by himself. After commending him, he was convinced she was the best thing that had happened all year.

Once everyone was snug in the carriage, he hit the top and they were off. The silence was a welcome distraction from the perfume he could smell wafting from Miss Gates. Sitting by her had been the obvious choice. Now he regretted it.

Sara cleared her throat, demanding attention. “Now would be an excellent time for both of you to explain why you felt the need to yell at one another this afternoon over a silly little misconception at the park.”

Miss Gates’ eyes widened. Sebastian shook his head. Obviously she had no idea he was grounded from riding because of Samuel, not her.

“He’s being an arrogant and ungrateful cad,” Nicholas interjected, crossing his arms.

“And he’s being stubborn and pig-headed!” Sebastian bellowed. He never bellowed.

Where was the whiskey again?

Sara threw up her arms in exasperation. “You men have been friends for years. Even I can’t say I’ve known my husband that long. Whatever it is that has both of your feathers ruffled—deal with it. Or I shan’t speak to you ever again.”

Her eyes were on Sebastian as she made the threat, then she turned and acknowledged her husband. “As for you…You may find a different place to sleep tonight. I’m sure Samuel left remnants of jelly on his bed.”

“My apologies for our earlier spat, Seb!” Nicholas shouted nearly taking the roof off with his volume. Obviously he had been spending too much time with his mother-in-law Lady Fenton, whose loudness trumped in comparison.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Accepted. I too apologize for giving advice that wasn’t mine to give, just don’t be so hard on the little boy. He only acts like his father.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Nicholas huffed. Sara grabbed his hand and kissed it.

“Was that so hard, my love?”

Nicholas immediately softened and kissed his wife firmly across the mouth.

Miss Gates looked away and sighed, bringing Sebastian’s attention back to the curve of her mouth.

Who was this girl?

Her hair was adorned with several tiny crystals making the shots of red shimmer. Vixen. That would be the only word to describe her. He had to avoid her at all costs, lest he compromise her and force her into a marriage neither of them wanted.

Chapter Five

Emma sighed longingly out the window of the traveling carriage. She took great pains to keep her emotions inside, trying to always laugh and live the adventurous life she knew she deserved. Yet at times she couldn’t help the sadness that crept up in moments of tenderness. What Nicholas and Sara had was beautiful.

She was envious because the love they shared would never be hers.

For a moment she was alarmed that they had caught wind of her and the duke’s argument in the park. His swift nod told her otherwise.

Shocking how one little word can destroy a person.

“Damaged” was how he had put it.

Unfortunately it defined her life and her future perfectly. It was the one word her father had used repeatedly when describing the incident to the rest of the family.

And the word her betrothed had spat under his breath when he explained to her father why their marriage contract was officially annulled. Rumors had run rampant throughout their country estate. Her only saving grace was that somehow her father had paid off enough of the servants. The ton hadn’t caught wind of her scandal. God willing, they never would.

Thoughts of her betrothed and her ruination always stole her confidence and lust for life, never mind that men often took women of ill repute to their beds. Apparently a woman of good breeding who only appeared to have met with a man privately was more dirty and less clean than even the most wicked of prostitutes. It hadn’t helped that the day after the incident, her sister had announced to her already furious parents Emma had been sneaking out at night and dancing with the gypsies. It was the final nail in her social coffin, sealing her fate as the daughter who’d let the great Gates family down.

Just keep it inside, she chanted as the air in the carriage seemed to thin by the second. Finally they came to a stop answering her silent plea. Rising to get out, she took a shaky breath. Just a little further and she would have fresh air. Her eyes blurred until she only saw a look of concern in the duke’s eyes, and then things went completely black as her knees gave way.

****

“Emma.” The voice sounded thick and hazy.

Suddenly her eyes fluttered open. Apparently she had fainted.

This is where letting your emotions fly uninhibited gets you. Flat on your back in the middle of a carriage with the most eligible duke of the realm staring down at you as if you’d tossed your brain outside with the bath water.

“I must have…” She shook her head, then realized the duke wasn’t actually looking down at her, he was holding her.

Was it so wrong to enjoy the feel of his hands on her face as he looked in her eyes with concern? It was an obvious brotherly concern, but still, a girl could dream.

“Emma,” he said again.

Wasn’t he most improper, calling her by her Christian name? Something warm and tingly squeezed her heart, and in that moment, she knew he could call her anything he desired, as long as he didn’t let her go.

And then his hands moved across her neck, examining to see if she had hit anything during her tumble.

“We should go inside, but we can wait until you are ready.”

“What happened?” Slowly she looked around the carriage and noticed it was empty.

Tempest lifted her onto the seat and placed her skirts around her ankles for propriety’s sake. “When the door opened Nicholas and Sara took their leave. I turned around to ask you if you needed assistance down, and as you rose, you fainted. Are you normally this—”

“Weak?” she finished. “No, your grace. I’m sorry for any trouble I might have caused you. I assure you, I’m fine.”

Apparently keeping her thoughts and emotions inside had caused her to faint.

****

Emma flashed him a brilliant smile and leapt from the carriage. He followed suit and offered his arm as they entered the ballroom.

A resounding hush descended soon after they were announced. What in the blazes? Confusion set him to look at the faces of those around him. All eyes were trained on the lady next to him. He looked down.

Her shawl was off.

Alarms went off in his head. Devil take it, her shawl wasn’t on her body.

Her dress was…well, originally he had only seen parts and he had been ready to rip it off of her.

Now—well now he felt like he was naked instead of her. The dress wasn’t scandalous. It was…without compare.

And absolutely magnificent.

The fabric wound tightly around her chest then seemed to get looser as it neared the floor. A small train attached to the back boasted of several different shades of white that eventually met in the middle at the bodice. The gown was completely off her shoulders, leaving creamy soft skin in its place.

Curse her modiste.

Pasting a smile on his face, he closed his eyes and took three calming breaths. He was the Duke of Tempest. He could escort her without tripping over himself. And surely he could keep his hands firmly placed by his sides, the only other option being ripping her bodice completely off her body sealing both of their fates. Replacing the worry and, to his great irritation, lust on his face with one of his usual smiles, he urged Emma forward.

“Ah, and this is our lovely hostess for the evening, Lady Walters.” He kissed her hand then asked, “How does your daughter fair this evening, my lady?”

Lady Walters was still staring openly at Emma but managed to snap out of her rude gawking when she heard the mention of her own daughter.

“Oh, your grace, I didn’t think you’d remember!” She swatted him playfully with her fan and chuckled again. “She’s fine, out exploring in France, I’m afraid. She’ll be sad to have missed you.”

“Pity.” He shook his head longingly. “I should have liked to discuss her recent art work. Does she have anymore I could take off her hands, by chance?”

Lady Walters beamed. “His grace is too kind. Yes, I will have it sent to you straight away.”

“Excellent. Shall we?” He turned toward Emma and grasped her gloved hand again.

****

Each time they stopped by another couple, Emma felt more and more at ease. Her original assumption of the duke’s character was sound. He was an angel. Albeit a fallen-looking one. Nonetheless he treated everyone with respect and in return he was adored.

Her stomach did a tiny flip-flop as she noticed him pick up a tiny girl and swing her in his arms.

“Your grace! Your grace!” she squealed, throwing her head back. “Again!”

Her mother stepped forward. “I’m sure his grace has many more things to get to tonight, Laura.” The girl pouted then pulled Sebastian’s face down to hers and kissed it.

Was that envy Emma felt in the pit of her stomach or something much worse? Flares of attraction continued to invade her as she looked for the quickest escape route. The man was charming, attractive, and sinfully charismatic. She needed to get away and fast, before she started begging like Laura.

“Dance with me,” he said next to her.

She had just turned to walk away from him. But it was too late. Now she was caught. Her chest tightened. Oh, how she wanted to dance. She hadn’t danced since the incident, unable to bring herself to relive it again. Best she keep the desire and memories locked away forever then deal with what had happened so long ago.

“I do not dance, your grace.”

Breaking free of his hand, she quickly moved through the crowd. Spying her prey by the refreshment table, a smile formed on her lips.

“Sara!”

Her cousin whirled around. “Goodness, Emma, you gave me a fright. Where’s Sebastian.”

A masculine laughter shook behind her. “Oh, preying on young women as usual. Only this one managed to run away from me without an explanation of why she rejected my offer to dance.”

Sara’s punch shook in her hand as she struggled for composure. “You see, your grace, Emma hasn’t yet been introduced to Lady Fenton, it has been years since they have seen one another.”

“That’s right!” Emma cut in. “I hope she won’t be put out that I have waited this long to say hello. Of course you understand, don’t you your grace? One simply cannot greet family members when in Town.” She winked and again walked off, leaving a confused duke behind.

That was close, she thought then promptly bumped into a man.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” She met his eyes and froze.

It was like looking into the face of a predator. A large, menacing predator. The air whooshed out of her lungs in one fast heave. Staring back at her was Lord Phillip Rawlings, the sole heir of the deceased Lord Rawlings and the only other person besides Emma’s family who knew of the incident that had happened so long ago.

Memories of that night came flooding back. Rawlings had torn the marriage contract in half, and with it every last shred of hope Emma had left. He was a few years older than Emma and had been not only her friend, but her future husband. But that was before the incident. Afterwards, his father had told him he could never pursue someone with such a soiled reputation or wanton ideas. Emma hadn’t cared much for marriage at the time. After all, she was still so young, as was Rawlings. But the devastation that a once loyal friend would also turn on her had been heartbreaking.

Breathtakingly handsome, his whole attitude toward her downfall had been rather selfish. Never once did he ask for her side or care to hear it. The day after she’d been ruined, he took off for London, but not before publicly denouncing their association and friendship.

Rawlings’ reputation was anything but spotless. Last she heard, he had been after Sara himself before Nicholas beat him to it. Yet another reason Emma envied men. They had no consequences for their actions. Rakes were to be praised, yet if a woman was caught in a compromising position, she was thrown out without a trial, with nothing except the job of picking up the broken pieces.

No, the only thing men worried about was money. Something Rawlings definitely had loads of, unless he had gambled away his entire fortune, which was highly unlikely.

“Ah, Miss Gates, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? Might I say you look positively delightful.” Lord Rawlings bowed over her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. The touch of his lips threatened to send her into hysterics. Rawlings had the power to destroy her with one word. The gentry had no idea the real story or her background. Her parents, with the help of the Rawlings family, had spun a tale about her wanting to spend time with her ailing grandmother before having a season. Never mind that her grandmother was as healthy as an ox.

Playing calm, her lips managed a smile, though speech would be impossible, given her inability to string any sort of thought together.

“Allow me to introduce my half brother John.”

Emma’s eyes fluttered to the man on Rawlings’ left. There was something vaguely familiar about his large hands and square nose. His eyes held no brightness. Naturally a woman interested in predatory men would find him handsome. Emma found him frightening and not at all safe. In fact both men seemed like they were spawns of the devil himself. Rawlings had changed, and not for the better. His gaze rested again on Emma. It seemed he wanted to say something, when he suddenly froze and, in place of his smile, a cool mask of indifference formed across his face.

“It seems you’ve evaded me again,” came her savior’s voice.

She felt Tempest’s warmth behind her and was half-tempted to fall into his large frame and cry tears of joy. Turning toward him, she offered a cheerful smile hoping to squelch out the blinding fear she felt at Lord Rawlings presence. What would Rawlings do? Would he say something? Would he leave her be? What possible interest could he have in her affairs? No, if he said something it would be out of pure selfishness, only to ruin Emma and her chances at making her parents proud or at least redeeming herself.

“Rawlings, I thought you were living in the country now. Surprised to see you rubbing shoulders with the lot of us tonight.”

“Yes, well…there was something that needed my immediate attention. Did Miss Gates happen to tell you of the closeness of our families?”

Emma gauged Tempest’s reaction and was relieved to see him promptly ignore Rawlings and give him the cut direct.

Before Emma could pull away or apologize, Rawlings grabbed her hand and laid a fervent kiss upon her fingertips. “It seems I’ve been asked to leave. Until next time, my sweet.”

Emma shuddered as Rawlings’ brother John’s eyes locked on hers. A devilish smile crossed his face as he too bent his head in her direction and walked off. “I don’t know if I’m fond of either of those men.”

“He doesn’t even like himself. As for his brother—well, one hears things. I don’t know your association with Rawlings, but he isn’t the type of fellow with whom you should be associating, if you desire a spotless reputation. Now, would you please stop trying to escape me? I won’t make you dance if that’s what you’re afraid of, but I did promise Nicholas to look after you, and I find it deuced hard to comply when you’re constantly turning your back on me. I doubt I’m that disagreeable to look at.”

Emma giggled. “Your grace—”

“Sebastian,” he stated, sounding bored that she would even bother with using his title.

“Fine. Sebastian.” She leaned in so only he could hear. “I think if we were to sit here and discuss the effect you have on women, we would be whispering all night, and those same women you are trying to marry would think us entangled. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Of course not. Married to a girl who nearly kills herself every time she rides a horse? No, thank you. I don’t want to live in constant fear of your next suicidal jaunt.”

Emma felt immediately at ease. “My apologies, your grace. I only took off because I thought we were racing. Can I help it that I crave the feel of the wind against my hair? Is that so wrong? Or are young, genteel-breed ladies not to utter such things?”

“My dear, you may utter whatever pleases you, as long as I’m on the receiving end of your little confessions.”

Emma laughed heartily as she took his arm. “What if my confessions are improper, then what will you do?”

Bringing his hand up to her cheek, Sebastian flashed a devious smile. “Then, my dear, I will take it upon myself to alleviate any impropriety you may possess.”

Emma gulped. “In what way, your grace?”

“Any way necessary, my lady.” He lifted her hand effortlessly to his lips and bestowed a wicked kiss on her fingertips, reluctantly releasing her only when they were, yet again, approached by a panic-stricken Nicholas.

“Ah, there you two are,” Nicholas said louder than necessary. “I need both of you to pretend you’re in deep conversation with me, and don’t look behind you less I start crying tears of outrage at the unfairness of my current situation.”

Confused, Emma looked to Sebastian for help. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned to Nicholas and slapped him forcefully on the back. It was then Emma noticed Lady Fenton heading their way. Earlier that evening before leaving, Nicholas had received a glorious set down by his mother-in-law regarding his punishing Samuel. The argument, it seemed, had not yet been settled. Smiling, she looked back to Sebastian, who cleared his throat for attention and spoke.

“Good of you to come so soon, my lord. We have matters to discuss. Emma and I were just conversing about my intention to marry and—”

The room seemed to hush as Sebastian’s words echoed off into the great ballroom. Several pairs of envious eyes darted in her direction, nearly burning her with jealous rage.

“Ah, yes. I forgot about the list!” Nicholas’s voice reverberated off the walls.

Oh splendid, thought Emma. All the women of the ton needed to know was the Duke of Tempest was keeping an actual list of ladies he was potentially interested in. Selfishly she wondered if she was on it, but that was silly. Of course she wouldn’t be on it. She was merely the daughter of a wealthy viscount. Sebastian was more than likely looking for a princess or the daughter of a duke. Maybe even an heiress, not that he needed it. He was richer than Croesus.

“The names?” Nicholas asked, interrupting her thoughts. She looked at Sebastian.

“Yes, I nearly forgot.” Sebastian’s hands smoothed the front of his perfectly fitting jacket. His fingers fumbled along the inside for something.

He pulled out a piece of paper in triumph. “It’s all here. I even wrote down a few debutantes.”

“May God save us all from such a future,” Nicholas mumbled. Emma caught his wink in her direction.

The timing had been perfect, for just then several twittering girls walked by, giggling in unison. They donned frightfully boring white dresses and feminine fans. None of them looked appealing. In fact, Emma had the sudden urge to throw her punch on their dresses just so she could see them scatter to and fro like a group of wild hens. She stepped forward, eyes gleaming, but was caught by a strong hand.

“Leave them be, Emma.” Nicholas’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“But how did you even—”

Nicholas led her away from where Sebastian was standing, now surrounded with more women than she cared to count.

“Let’s just say I know where that pretty little head takes you sometimes.”

****

Curse her and the protective entourage that seemed to follow her every move. Lord Renwick was easy enough to manipulate. But the duke was an entirely different question. The duke was known as a fair man, but in no way did that mean he wouldn’t have a person hanged if the man in question mistreated his friend. The argument that kept parading through his mind was this: was Emma just an acquaintance, or was she something dangerously more?

He swore viciously when he saw the duke yet again extend his lips to Emma’s creamy hand. That was his hand. She was his property. He had made sure of that long ago. If only she would have stayed in the country where she belonged.

Where he could have kept her…and dealt with her. She would be the missing key to the unfairness of his life. Her dowry, her connections, he needed her now more than ever.

No matter. He would take care of the situation soon. For who would want to marry or even associate with a gypsy dancer who gave it to every man she came in contact with.

Jeering, he plucked a glass of wine from the passing servant. Yes this would be enjoyable indeed. All he needed was a plan, and someone desperate and loyal enough to help him carry it out.

Chapter Six

Sebastian couldn’t help but grin when he watched Emma. Her lips in a tight smile, her eyes crinkled, but not in a full enjoyment. She was miserable, her smile was forced. Why it amused him, he couldn’t say, except he knew exactly how she felt. It was something akin to being a new toy. When the ton caught wind of a girl in town for the marriage mart, they just had to see what she was like.

Fortunately for Emma, she would take remarkably well. With that pile of beautiful hair and gorgeous pout…It would be criminal for her to spend life without someone to share it with.

A young miss with curly brown hair wearing a white dress passed in front of Emma and giggled. Sebastian noted the irritated expression on Emma’s face. The poor girl looked like she was ready to throw a punch at the first debutante who crossed her, which, on second thought, might be quite entertaining if he allowed it.

Shaking the thought from his head, he motioned for her to follow him outside. Normally women only accompanied him to darkened balconies when he was promising a different type of entertainment, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. A point that actually bothered him. But what he wanted most in the world at this moment was to enjoy the Season’s first ball with Miss Emma Gates and to wipe the silly cynical frown off her face.

He held a finger to his lips, motioning her to be quiet as they stepped onto the outside balcony.

It took some persuading, but eventually he convinced her it would be in her best interest to crouch closer to the ground so she was nearly sitting on the cold hard marble. None too enthusiastic, she finally relented, rolling her eyes as she leaned in, throwing him a skeptical look. Satisfied, he reached into his pockets and withdrew a few grapes.

“You took me away from that fabulous good time to eat grapes? On the dirty ground? In the dark?”

Her voice held an abnormal amount of irritation, amusing him all the more.

“Why, of course. I thought to myself anything would be more fun than that!” He pointed back in the general direction of the doors and grimaced. “But to answer your previous question, no. We are not going to eat grapes on the ground in the dark. Nor am I going to compromise you. Oh, wipe that scowl off your face, or I’ll have to reevaluate my decision to do so. And you know that won’t do any favors for either of us.” He braced himself against the railing and grinned. “We’re going to throw them.”

“Throw what?”

He shrugged. “The grapes, of course.”

“At?”

“Well, we could throw them at trees, but I had people in mind. Moving targets are so much more fun, wouldn’t you agree?”

Emma bit her lip as if contemplating what would be the wisest course of action. Then without pausing any further, she grabbed some grapes from his hand. “If I hit anyone in the head, I get five points.”

“A body hit is one point.”

“And if you miss, you get a point taken away,” she whispered, crouching closer to the edge of the balcony.

Sebastian couldn’t hold back his grin if he tried. He was living up to his reputation tonight. He hadn’t smiled this much with a woman in years. “Winner gets a kiss.” He hoped the sudden tension between them was from anticipation not repulsion. One never knew where women were concerned. Many of them being the most unpredictable and annoying creatures ever created.

“But…” He could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. “That means either way, one of us gets a kiss from the other.”

“Glad you see it my way. Shall we?” he urged, holding a grape in front of her face.

Emma rolled her eyes, snatching the grape out of his hand. Without warning, she took a shot, but missed the man in front of her by a large distance.

“My arm got caught in this blasted dress,” she explained, rubbing her elbow.

“Says the girl with no points,” Sebastian muttered, taking position and fighting to ignore the shot of lust that went through his veins the minute Emma began rubbing her skin. Focusing on the game at hand, he threw and hit the target right in his forehead, sending his hat backward onto the ground.

“Who’s there?” the man yelled and stomped his foot, then he picked up his hat and cursed. Apparently, this had not been a good night for him.

“That’s five for me, and how many for you, Emma?”

“Pride from a duke? How shocking.” With that, Emma threw not one but two grapes at the next two passersby, hitting one in the foot and the other in the head. Miraculously. He was convinced her throws were based on prayer and pure luck.

“Ha!” she gloated “I believe that gives me six points, and how many for you, Sebastian? I’ve lost track.”

“Finding it difficult to count with me standing so close to you, m’dear?”

“Foul!” she yelled. “If you’re going to sit and insult those who beat you—” Quickly his hand reached out to cover her mouth. Her raised voice had nearly given them away.

When they were in the clear, he released his hand and motioned for her to step back as he took his turn launching the grape toward the young man sitting on the bench.

And promptly missed.

She had just won. She didn’t even need to hit her target. Yet she reached up her arm for another throw then turned and, without warning, threw it right at Sebastian’s face. He ducked, but he wasn’t quick enough. The grape ricocheted off his nose into his eye.

“My eye, oh no! My eye!” He covered his eye and cursed.

Emma blanched. “Oh no. Oh!” She braced his face with both hands. “Let me see. Maybe I can help. I feel horrid! I didn’t mean for it to hit your eye. If you would have just—”

Naturally, Sebastian was faking it. And he should have felt guilty, but instead he was exhilarated. He could smell faint delights of wine and berries on her breath as it brushed across his face. He was going to kiss her.

Since he had already made the decision, he leaned forward and met her lips with tenderness. Then whispered against them, “Remember, winner gets a kiss.”

He felt her tense beneath his arms. Pathetically, all he could think was, Please, God, don't let her pull away. In all its innocence, it was the best kiss of his life.

Her hesitation ceased once he pulled her firmly into the frame of his body, shielding her from any snooping eyes of the ton.

****

Emma was shaking.

And it was all Sebastian’s fault.

Before the incident, she had dreamed of this moment. Didn’t every girl? Now that her dreams were a reality, she felt like she was living a waking nightmare.

She was trapped against this powerful man. There was no escape. Yet as the kiss progressed, her body began to act in direct conflict with her head.

Everything felt alive.

She was terrified. Her head told her she had to flee. It said if she didn’t push away, something bad would happen again. How was it possible to both enjoy and be petrified of something at the same time?

Her arms treacherously wrapped around his neck as if he was the lifeline to her sanity. The pull between them was like nothing she had ever experienced.

And then as quickly as it had happened, she was pushed away, but not by Sebastian.

“What the—Sebastian! I should kill you!”

Nicholas was standing between the two of them like an angry parent, which, oddly enough, was closer to the truth than Emma would like to admit. Her belly filled with dread as if she had just been caught red-handed stealing something from her father.

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by Nicholas’s fist.

It all happened so fast, Emma wasn’t sure how to play it. Did she throw Sebastian to the wolves or join him?

Maybe it wasn’t too difficult of a decision.

“I have no idea what happened,” she feigned, innocently putting her palm against her fluttering heart. “One minute we were throwing grapes at people and the next he was kissing me!”

“Throwing grapes? Kissing?” Nicholas’s face turned an odd shade of purple as he glared at Sebastian, who was now holding his already bruising cheek.

“They were small grapes! And she is not totally innocent!” He looked ready to call in witnesses, not that there were any.

“On what grounds do you say she isn’t totally innocent?” Nicholas asked.

Sebastian cleared his throat and mumbled, “She cheats.”

“Right.” Nicholas glanced between the two of them, and then turned toward the ballroom.

Emma strategically stuck out her tongue so Nicholas couldn’t see. Sebastian answered her with a threatening glare that would have made her squirm if Nicholas hadn’t been standing right there.

“What am I to do with you two?” Nicholas was facing them and pacing all at once.

“Do you think it’s a rhetorical question?” Sebastian murmured under his breath.

Emma choked on her laugh just in time to meet Nicholas’s searching eyes. Then his mouth turned into a smug grin. She hated it when he got that look on his face.

“I know exactly how to handle this.”

Sebastian shifted his weight and rolled his eyes. The doubt on his face was apparent. Emma couldn’t help but share the same feeling. What could Nicholas possibly do to them? They were adults after all.

“Both of you, follow me.”

Emma wasn’t given a choice as Sebastian urged her forward, leaving an almost searing handprint on her back. The man did wicked things to her. Just a moment ago she had been kissing him like a madwoman. And she did feel mad. For even though part of her was still terrified, another part was delighted and couldn’t help but wonder when or if it would happen again. Not that it would be a good idea. After all, they didn’t want to end up having to marry just because they found each other's kisses more exciting than a ball.

For goodness sake, anything was more exciting than the ball. Especially when one didn’t dance. A girl can only drink so much punch and eat so many bonbons before it starts to show on her figure, sending her into even deeper despair of ever finding a husband.

Emma followed Nicholas blindly into the main room.

“Go along now,” he said authoritatively.

Emma turned to Sebastian for help. He winked.

“What would you like us to run along and do, my lord?” The mockery wasn’t lost on Nicholas. His face grew even sterner. Which, considering the circumstances, was quite a feat.

Suddenly Nicholas smirked. “Pardon my interruption, Lady Fenton!” he announced, voice louder than a man of his stature should possess.

Lady Fenton turned around. “Ah, Nicholas, there you are.”

“Indeed, did you know I’ve just heard the most delightful news?”

Lifting her eyebrow, Lady Fenton leaned in. “What is it? Surely your secret is safe with me.”

“It has come to my attention the Duke of Tempest and Miss Gates are both actively searching for someone with whom to share their hearts. And after careful consideration, they’ve decided to announce at the Fenton ball next week their choices for a companion. After several dances, they will announce their intentions of whom they wish to court. Isn’t that delightful?”

Emma watched in horror as Lady Fenton’s face seemed to brighten with every word. “Will Renwick House be accepting visitors then?”

“Naturally, both Lady Gates and Tempest will be accepting callers.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. Sebastian let out a lovely string of expletives and ran his fingers roughly through his hair.

Torn between wanting to shout and curse alongside Sebastian, Emma watched with dread as Lady Fenton leaned in and whispered a few words to the ladies in her group. This process was repeated until everyone in the ballroom seemed to be a flutter with excitement.

In one sudden movement, people began scattering about looking Emma and Sebastian up and down as if the game had now been set, the pieces laid out, and execution in order.

Feeling trapped, Emma desperately wanted to do more than run as three older gentlemen hobbled her way. Two of them looked like they had one foot at deaths door. Not to mention that they appeared to be suffering from gout. The third suitor was at least smiling, but missing all of his teeth.

Lovely. Maybe she could chew his food for him as well.

Her eyes darted toward Sebastian, sending him a look of utter misery.

She should have known his response would be to greet all three men.

Then offer them a drink.

And his support.

Curse the man.

All because of the kissing and the grapes. Well, he would pay—dearly.

As if sent from God, his ‘payment’ approached. Four green girls in white frilly dresses nervously walked up to him. If their faces didn’t scream ‘desperate for a duke,’ their excitable chatter and posture certainly did.

Emma complimented them on their beauty then promptly told them the duke’s favorite color was yellow.

Earlier she had overheard him complaining about yellow dresses to Nicholas.

The look on his face confirmed he wasn’t even slightly amused at her gesture.

For good measure she added, “A little hint, ladies.”She stepped forward, bringing the girls into her confidence. “He just adores attention. So don’t feel awkward at all about following him to and fro. In fact, the duke loves to feel pursued and desired. Why just this last year a girl stalked him for six months! Once he discovered her true identity, he bragged to everyone at Whites about how desired he was. So girls, it’s up to you to make him feel special.”

Wide-eyed with excitement, they nodded their heads in unison and did as she directed. Like little chicks, they followed him all around the ballroom.

She vaguely remembered she still had the three old men standing next to her. The one without gout, whom she would forever refer to as toothless, had promptly fallen asleep standing up. Either that or he was shielding his eyes from the guests in the ballroom. Safe to say he wouldn’t notice her walking away.

The other two, whom she was now referring to as balding men with gout, were eyeing her like a delicious morsel of food. Impossible to figure out if it was the type of treat one would eat or a sweet morsel one should never think about when staring at old men with gout. Taking into account their girth, it was a question that would remain unanswered. And for that she was eternally grateful.

Shuddering, she pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to research any further.

She made an excuse about needing to fix her dress and ran away.

Well, she walked fast, considering she had been informed repeatedly over the last day that ladies did not run.

Just as she was about to reach the door to her freedom, she was yanked out of the hallway by large hands.

It was Sebastian.

And he was hiding in a closet.

That was what they had been reduced to.

Closet hiding.

It couldn’t get worse.

And then...

“Your grace!” a young girl whined. “I am positive I saw him run over here.”

Sebastian tightened his grip on Emma’s waist in warning.

Like she would say anything to give herself away.

As if a candle were suddenly in the small closet aiding in the temperature increase, her body began to overcharge. Maybe it was the closeness, or maybe the kiss had affected her more than she thought.

Like a magnet, she was drawn to him. Couldn’t pull away if she wanted to. His hands, which had been on her waist, began sliding upwards toward her breasts. His fingers brushed provocatively all the way past them to her neck. Her breathing was laborious as her body leaned into him. Waiting for something. What, she didn’t know. His hands seemed to burn wherever they traveled. A sense of loss descended on her when he pulled one hand away and cursed.

****

Hot desire had descended in that closet. He was on fire for her. Yet this would be the second time in one night he had managed to nearly compromise her. So why couldn’t he find the desire to push her away or even apologize?

The little infuriating minx even had the audacity to lie to Nicholas and then throw him mercilessly into the pit of wandering debutantes.

At the time, he had wondered if she possessed a heart at all.

Then telling the girls his favorite color was yellow, oh yes, and to stalk him. A personal favorite. His butler would have his hide by the morning, considering Emma had left out an important piece of information. That he wasn’t currently in residence.

They needed to join forces, but not in the way that kept happening.

The kissing, it had to stop. It was already complicating things. For example, his view on finding a mate. Now plagued with images of her each time he closed his eyes, it would be that much more difficult when he had to actually find someone he would be attracted to and could stand to be in the same room with for longer than five minutes.

Emma would ruin him forever with her luscious body and challenging antics. Never had he met a girl with a more contagious spirit.

Exactly the opposite of what he needed in the next duchess. But then again, all that was necessary was an heir. However was he supposed to find a legitimate wife with all the debutantes swarming around? It would be impossible to discover if they had any substance at all.

Lost in thought he had almost missed Emma when she had sauntered by. And now she was leaning into him like some bloody wanton.

Oh, how he wanted to give in.

His hands had a mind of their own as they traced upward from her perfectly shaped waist. He only paused when her eyes began to close. Lust pounded through his veins as her smell invaded his senses. Perhaps one kiss. How could it further complicate things? Yes, one kiss, and once the night was over, he would go about finding a suitable bride. But he was a man, and although given the title of angel duke, it was deuced hard not to take advantage of this advantageous situation.

Blood pounded his ears as he watched the way her breathing became laborious. Watched in utter fascination as her breasts strained against her bodice. Just this once then, he would satisfy his desire and hers. Tomorrow was another day altogether.

And then Emma was moving closer, leaning further as his back touched the edge of the wall.

Swallowing the sudden dryness that had taken permanent residence in his throat, he braced his senses for impact. All five of them, for she was mauling him with her scent, her presence, her body…everything about her made him want to cry out in frustration.

“Emma.” He choked out her name, trying desperately to sound more in control than he felt.

Her body continued to sway in front of his.

A tendril of hair bounced out of her coiffure.

And it was his undoing.

Reaching out, he grasped at the silky tendril and lifted it to his mouth. Was he mad? Or just bombarded with lust? Because all he wanted to do was taste her. To open her up and see what treasure her body could behold. It was not merely a kiss anymore. A satisfying romp in the closet. It was so much more, too much more.

She was making him want to cross boundaries.

And the Duke of Tempest never crossed boundaries. He was the most discreet of anyone he knew, including his grandmother. Quite a feat.

“Sebastian.” Her voice, no, her plea broke the argument he was having with himself in his mind.

“Yes.” His lips trembled.

“Please.”

Oh, beg me, please. Say my name.

As if reading his thoughts, she whispered his name in reverence. Whatever had taken place in the ball was now forgotten.

It was just them.

Alone and sharing a private and provocative embrace.

Dear God, help him. He was going to ruin everything.

Might as well do it thoroughly.

His head dipped toward hers. Taking one last shaky breath, his lips descended with every intention of plundering her mouth. A little further. There was no going back. Their laborious breaths seemed to tangle, making the room seem like magic. The moment was perfect. Her eyes closed in anticipation. Reaching the point of no return, his lips brushed against hers. Tentatively at first, almost waiting for her invitation.

Boldly, she answered yes in response, and her mouth opened. The intoxicating sweetness stole his breath away as he clung to her shoulders plunging his tongue further into her invitation, drinking in her sweet nectar.

“Sebastian! I know you’re in there!” Nicholas’s booming voice went hardly un-noticed.

Before Sebastian had time to react, Emma grabbed the collar of his jacket and pushed him away. Putting her hand over her mouth, she stepped back, and then as if a brilliant idea had dawned on her, she pulled him forward. Her lips briefly touched his again. A goodbye kiss or a taunt, he wasn’t sure which, and then she stepped away again just as Nicholas opened the door. By then they were separated, but looked flushed and guilty.

“Oh, hiding. I see how it is. Well, Seb, your grandmother’s scouting the room for you. If she doesn’t find you soon, I figure she’s going to report you missing, or worse, dead. I’d make an appearance if I were you.”

Nicholas turned on his heel and stomped off.

The man would have made a good spy. How was it he knew where Sebastian had run off to?

“I should go.” Emma bit her lip and pushed by him. He didn’t miss the provocative smile she sent him.

“I might kill him, you know.”

“Nicholas?” she asked.

“Yes. I do hope you’re not too attached.”

She shrugged. “I hope you can manage to keep your head straight the rest of the night. Do try to set that kiss out of your mind while the little debutantes follow you around, your grace.”

“Minx!” he yelled, watching her run off.

He couldn’t leave the closet yet. Not if his life depended on it. Thinking of his grandmother for more than two minutes seemed to set him to rights again. Though physical evidence of his desire was still apparent, he knew he would be presentable by the time he reached the crush. As he stepped around the corner he noticed a small—no, take that back—a large swarm of debutantes waiting to trap him. Yet all he could think about was the cursed kiss he had shared with Emma. The girl had ruined him, and she knew it. He couldn’t focus on stating his own name, which the little debutantes took as him being nervous and shy.

He was going to wring her pretty neck later.

Violence was obviously in the forefront of his mind along with searing passion, and God forgive the most distressing thought of Emma Gates sprawled across his bed.

It was going to be a long night.

****

Emma watched in fascination as Sebastian danced with debutante after debutante. She couldn’t seem to hide her amusement each time they made eye contact across the room. He was sending her threats through his eyes.

Of course he wouldn’t follow through. He was too much of a gentleman. A gentleman in need of seducing. She let out a shaky laugh at the thought. No, this man was not hers for the taking. But a girl could dream. She had no idea what had possessed her to kiss the man again except for an incessant need to feel his protective body close to hers. And the amusing thought that he would have trouble pushing their scandalous embrace out of his ‘angelic’ head. Selfishly, Emma could not help but be curious, and after their first kiss had been interrupted by none other than Nicholas, well she had wanted to feel his lips against hers again. Never one to pass up an opportunity, she took it, knowing fully that a man like that would never marry a woman like her, for good reason. Besides, it would be impossible to be more ruined than she already was.

And the man could kiss.

Not that she had anything to compare it to. But she could well imagine that any man’s kisses would pale in comparison.

It was unfortunate they hadn’t met in a different way or a different lifetime. If she had to marry, she would rather marry someone she could fight and joke with than some decaying old man who would most likely die of a heart attack on their wedding night.

On cue another elderly gentleman walked up to Emma and bowed.

Perfect.

He smiled, revealing a maddeningly attractive row of straight teeth. Surprisingly enough none of them appeared to be rotting.

The night was obviously taking a turn for the better!

Possibly by the last waltz she would be approached by someone who resembled an old uncle rather than an ancient grandfather.

A girl could only hope.

The man shakily grabbed his cane and nudged her in the side.

“He’s a good-looking fellow, is he not, my dear?”

“Who?” What was this man jabbering about?

“The duke, of course.”

She nodded her head trying to think of polite ways to leave Sebastian out of any conversation, lest her body give her away and start trembling with excitement.

“I know his grandmother, of course. The lady won’t give me the time of day. I live for her rejection.”

Emma laughed.

“In fact,” he continued, “I ask her to marry me every single day just to make her smile. I’m old, it doesn’t hurt my pride any to be turned down by such a delicate creature.”

Just then an elderly lady with a similar cane to the one the old man was holding began hobbling toward them.

Her regal posture told Emma she was either full of herself or used to attention. An uncomfortable look of inspection crossed her face as she glanced at Emma and then at her partner.

“Ah, Marquess Welbourne, how good of you to grace us all with your presence. I thought you’d be home nursing your broken heart.”

“It’s all better,” he mused, a twinkle in his eyes. “Allow me to present to you Miss Gates.”

“A pleasure,” the lady said, hardly glancing at Emma.

“You didn’t even look at her,” Welbourne said.

“Don’t have to. Let me guess her beauty is without compare and my insipid grandson has been sending her searing looks all throughout the evening.”

“Her grace is grossly accurate in her assessment.”

“Well, my girl, let me have a look at you.”

Emma figured that was her cue and abruptly dipped into a low curtsy.

“I see what he means. She does need to eat more, don’t you think, Welbourne? Can’t say I’m surprised she’s caught his fancy.” She stomped her cane inches from Emma’s foot. “I do wonder if she can stretch that young fool, convince him to do something more than what’s expected of him.”

Welbourne nodded. Emma gaped. What was the duchess getting at?

“In fact.” The duchess was now standing between the two of them. “I have many times paid ladies of my influence to trap young Sebastian into marriage. My girl, I have been that desperate.”

Emma nodded, not believing her ears, yet knowing if anyone was to have such a scandalous grandmother, it would be the Duke of Tempest.

“Furthermore, he refused to sleep with all of them! Can you believe that? One was even a French countess! I think I aided his rake’s reputation, but I do not believe he has ever actually been with a woman, if you understand my meaning, my dear.”

Emma felt her face turn hot.

“Don’t look so embarrassed, my girl. It’s not as if I want my grandson to live in sin. Quite the opposite. I was merely hoping to trip him up a bit, if you will. But he wouldn’t take the bait. He has the self-control of a priest.” She shook her head. “But enough of that, I do believe you will do, my girl. You will do fine!”

Emma swallowed. “Do what, your grace?”

“I believe you should convince him.”

“Convince him?” Emma squeaked. “What exactly does he need to be convinced of?”

The duchess grinned, revealing a captivating smile that hid her advanced years. “Convince him to marry you, of course. By any means necessary. I’m desperate, and if I see another debutante throw herself in front of him, I shall not be responsible for my actions, my dear. I’ve been known to cause carriage accidents.”

“Is that true?” Emma turned to Welbourne.

“My dear, you have no idea what she is capable of. It’s why I confess undying love each day.”

“Silly is what you are, Welbourne,” the duchess answered, though not as stern as before. “I’m older than you and much too set in my ways to marry. My grandson, however, is not past seducing.”

Emma looked between the two in shock. They were dead serious. Why was she to be the one to do the seducing? Why her?

“I’m curious why you think I’m up to the task,” Emma said before thinking.

The duchess was nonplussed and shrugged. “I’ve had the pleasure of spending many of my holidays with the Renwicks. On occasion they even let me talk with young Samuel, though Nicholas is convinced I’ll be a terrible influence on the boy.”

“You did introduce young Samuel to the tad pole pond on your estate,” Welbourne interjected.

“Hmm, would that be the same tadpole pond where Samuel found a frog? The same frog he set loose in church?”

The duchess smirked. “I can neither deny nor acknowledge I had any part in that.”

Welbourne rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, my dear, I know you’re a cousin to Sara, whom I also adore. And I’ve heard so many good things, my dear, so many things. I also know of your parents. I think you’d be perfectly suited for my grandson. In fact, I decree that you shall seduce him by any means possible. I’ll even send Welbourne out to catch you in a compromising embrace.”

“Unfortunately, her grace isn’t bluffing.” Welbourne took a long sip of champagne and shook his head. “Oh the things the Duchess of Tempest has done.”

The duchess scoffed. “Silence, Welbourne, do you want to scare her? Run along then.” Heavily jeweled hands pushed her toward the dance floor, toward Sebastian.

Emma was powerless to stop her feet from moving forward. She turned back to the duchess, hoping she would call for her return. Instead she yelled, “And good luck, my dear! You’ll need it!”

Emma’s leaden legs drew her up to the side of the Duke of Tempest. Closing her eyes, she lifted her hand to tap him on the shoulder. He was going to think she was mad. How did one explain to someone that his grandmother was missing the sane parts of her mind?

He didn’t turn around. She tapped him again, this time more insistently.

He still didn’t move.

Drat the man! She stomped on his foot and grabbed him.

A hush went across the ballroom.

Of course.

What had made her think it would be even minutely socially acceptable to grab a duke by the shoulders? Especially one as single and powerful as the Duke of Tempest? Maybe she was the one with the missing marbles.

“Yes?” he asked, turning the full force of his power on her.

Knees shaking, she met his glare.

“I wish to speak with you.”

People began whispering. It couldn’t get worse.

And then...

“Well, my boy, don’t just stand there! Dance with the girl!” The duchess’s voice boomed across the room. Emma felt her face heat. Why, oh why had she listened to the old crone?

Sebastian, a bit taken aback, nodded in his grandmother’s direction and took Emma’s hand.

“You’ve managed to charm the old bag, hmm?” he whispered, putting his other hand on her back. “It’s often compared with snake charming. I’m quite impressed. Do you also do little gypsy dances and parade around in nothing but bangles on your wrists and, God forbid, your ankles? I think I should like to see that.”

Emma, stunned into silence, began shaking. Mumbling an apology, she pushed away from him and ran out of the ballroom. Again leaving the entire ton in an uproar. She had managed to snag and abandon the most eligible duke in society in the span of two minutes.

****

Sebastian stood in the middle of the dance floor utterly deserted. He hated scandal and he hated pity. Women across the room had their mouths gaping open in shock, several others pretended to faint. His grandmother, the one person he expected to be outraged, had the audacity to laugh out loud and then walk off with Welbourne.

He had never been rejected before. How was he to respond? Was he to laugh it off? Normally he wouldn’t care, but it had seemed he had offended Emma or frightened her nearly out of her wits.

Swallowing his pride, he followed her out, amidst the growing whispers of him being love sot. He wanted to tell them to bloody mind their own business, but he knew it would just fan the flame.

Pushing through the front entrance, he scanned the streets for any sign of her. Nothing greeted him except blackness and the sick feeling he had done irreparable damage to his and Emma’s relationship.

What was he thinking? Relationship? Is that what they were in? He ran his hands through his hair and decided to walk back to Renwick House. It was just down the block, and he needed time to think.

Suddenly the ball didn’t seem at all the place he wanted to be. What he wanted was to find Emma and tell her he was sorry for whatever he said to upset her. He had been joking. She had to know that. He always joked!

He arrived at the front door of Renwick House exhausted and without a trace of Emma.

By the time he was ready for bed, he felt as if he had lived a thousand lifetimes. He would talk with Emma in the morning to see if he could fix whatever he’d done wrong. After all, women loved it when powerful men dropped down on one knee and begged.

And then...

“That’s it!” he yelled, hitting his pillow.

A smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. He was brilliant. It wouldn’t shock him at all if they erected statues in his honor, his plan was that clever. He knew exactly how he would handle this.

Nicholas is going to shoot me, he thought happily and closed his eyes.

****

“Of all the stupid things I could have done!” Emma yelled once she got in her bedroom. Sara sat and listened but appeared to be anxious to meet her husband for the evening. Married life must be something worth looking forward to if Sara was so eager to share her husband’s bed.

“I abandoned him. In front of the entire ton. I ran away!” Emma put her head in her hands and groaned. “I shall never live this down, and he shall never let me forget it!”

“Oh, stop. We both know the duke isn’t one to hold grudges. If anything he probably found it amusing. He deserves to be brought down a few notches anyway. Nobody should be blessed with perfect looks. Nicholas himself needed humbling. Just look at how little Samuel drives him to madness.”

“True.” Hesitantly Emma picked up her hairbrush. “I just don’t want to cause him any trouble.”

“That should be the least of your worries, Emma. He’s a duke, after all. People would want him if he were missing all his teeth and an arm.”

Too bad he wasn’t missing an arm or all of his glorious teeth. At least then Emma could have a decent conversation with the man without wanting to kiss him or touch his broad shoulders or feel the heat of his skin burning beneath his shirt.

“Are you hot?” Sara asked. “You look flushed. Are you coming down with something?”

Lust, crystal blue eyes, full lips. “No, nothing at all. I’m just tired.” Emma said her goodnights to Sara and tried to close her eyes. Sleep would be difficult after such an eventful night.

Chapter Seven

The following morning as Sebastian walked downstairs, he had the sneaking suspicion he would be grinning all day. His plan was perfect. By the time he reached the room where everyone would be breaking their fast, he still couldn’t wipe the smug smile off of his face. Nor could he get the vivid picture of what Emma would look like with her hair down out of his thoughts. All velvet and red splayed across white linen. He cleared his throat and shifted. He must not think of such things, considering he was staying in the same house as her.

But the things he would do.

He should get a hold of himself, or jump in a cold lake.

Anything to take away the spurts of lust that would not leave his mind and his body alone for one second.

She was just a woman. An appendage, a means to an end.

Calming himself and shifting his thoughts to the plan ahead, he walked into the room and grabbed a plate. The women were seated on one side of the table sipping coffee. Naturally, Nicholas was brooding in the corner. And why wasn’t he surprised to see young Samuel with his arms crossed in the opposite corner? And was that chocolate on Nicholas’s face? He opened his mouth to ask but closed it when Nicholas glared at him and gave a stern shake of his head. Apparently it had already been an eventful morning. Poor Nicholas was going to lose his head.

Nicholas motioned for Sebastian to take a seat while he wiped his face with a napkin. His expression was glum as he lifted a curious eyebrow. “What has you in such a jolly mood this morning? Didn’t a certain young lady run away from you last night?”

All eyes shifted to Emma. The blush on her face was magnificent. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Sebastian. You have to believe me, I—“

“You two are on a first name basis now?” Nicholas looked shocked.

Sebastian loved it.

“Well, we uh…” Emma shot Sebastian a pleading look.

“Actually,” he said, saving her. “My little announcement has a lot to do with what happened last night.” Sebastian took a seat, then thought better of it and jumped up, causing Nicholas to spill his tea and curse.

“Get on with it.” Nicholas gritted his teeth as he poured himself another cup.

“I’m proposing marriage.”

At that Sara jumped up from her chair and clapped her hands. “Oh and so soon! Do tell us, who have you set your sights on?”

Emma piped in. “Yes, do tell us, your grace. What lucky girl has managed to turn your pretty little head?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, making Sebastian even more elated.

“I thought it would have been apparent after last night.”

“Last night?” Nicholas repeated, looking to Sara for some sort of help.

“Last night,” Sebastian declared with his hand over his heart.

Emma shifted nervously on her feet, sending Nicholas a shrug of guilt. Sara did the same, causing an abrupt smile to erupt on Sebastian’s face.

“Well, I decided it should be done at once. I want to make my intentions clear that I, Sebastian, Duke of Tempest, wish to court and marry Miss Emma Gates.”

Nicholas threw his cup into the fire. Sara clapped her hands, and Emma’s eyes squinted into an obvious fury.

“Oh, brilliant! You’re going to give my husband an apoplexy!” Sara said, gathering a livid Nicholas in her arms.

“Doesn’t that only happen to women?” Emma said cheekily.

“I thought so,” Sebastian answered, shaking his head.

“He’s probably going to shoot you now,” said Emma.

“Where’s my pistol!” Nicholas confirmed, lunging for Sebastian. Sebastian knew his friend better than he knew himself and moved out of the way, causing Nicholas to fall on his face and curse yet again.

“I trust you have an explanation or plan for this, Sebastian,” Emma whispered on his right, her lips almost brushing his ear.

A jolt of awareness shot through him. Dampening his arousal, he turned toward her and winked. “Always, my dear, always.”

Sebastian knelt down next to Nicholas and handed him the handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing the pretend sweat that had furrowed at Nicholas’s brow. “Now listen here, old friend. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Tread carefully,” Sara murmured, taking her seat. Emma was close behind.

“And how are you doing me a favor?” Nicholas slapped Sebastian’s hand away and crossed his arms, mimicking Samuel perfectly.

“First of all, she won’t have dozens of dandy fools buzzing around the manor vying for her affection. Something you promoted at the ball last night, by the way. Not that I’m pointing fingers.” He pulled up his coattails and sat on the nearest chair. “Second—”

“Oh, just spit it out! Did you compromise her? Have you ruined her beyond repair? Must I have a chat with her parents about your inability to leave young virgins alone?”

Emma’s head snapped to attention.

Sebastian groaned as he watched all the color drain from her face. The poor thing was probably eternally mortified. Most young innocent girls would be when their innocence was openly questioned and discussed by men.

“Nicholas, that is quite enough!” Sara snapped, leaping from the chair.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never seen Sara yell. Ever.

“She isn’t ruined, is she, your grace?” Her questioning gaze seemed to pierce through to his black soul. Had she known the types of thoughts that had occupied his mind all night and early this morning? Could she see through the ruse of this proposal?

Clearing his throat, he began to speak. “Before I was rudely interrupted, I was going to explain I believe it would be best for Emma and me to pretend to be betrothed. That way it will be easier for both of us to choose a proper mate. A mate who won’t be crawling and fawning all over us, as they will be today. In fact, I was hoping I would wake in time to greet the lot of them. My guess is they are all probably outside fixing their hats and flowers just waiting to knock at the acceptable hour. And please don’t even get me started about the condition at my house. Why just this morning I had a girl try to sneak in my window. She could have fallen. Or worse, been caught in my bedroom sealing my bachelor days for good. I just received the post this morning from my valet. I’m surprised he didn’t shoot anyone.”

“My heart bleeds.” Emma’s dry voice gave warning of her feelings about his brilliant plan.

He decided a different strategy was needed. “Think of it this way, Emma. We can help each other find possible mates all the while skipping the dancing.” He swaggered in her direction, stopping only inches from her face. Leaning down he whispered, “Wouldn’t you rather spend your evenings throwing grapes at the people walking by? Pretending to be madly in love, positively entranced by one another, yet having no commitment beyond the ruse we are creating? Why, it would be positively adventurous. Weren’t you just saying how you desired adventure? The wind in your face?” He twisted a piece of hair that had fallen across her cheek and placed it behind her ear.

If he didn’t watch it he was going to arouse more than Emma with his speech. Thinking he had fully made his point, he gazed into her eyes.

Boldly she stared right back. Lifting her hand to her lips, she let out a little sigh. His confidence wavered as he watched the air slowly leave her mouth dizzying him with the cool sensation that she had been drinking a minty tea.

He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by her hand.

“It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

He gulped.

“It’s not every day a duke waltzes into breakfast and proposes fake marriage. Why, I’m so elated I’m nearly speechless! And to think, we get to share the adventure together. Day and night, though I’d like to say I’m more excited about those nights.” Her voice took a seductive dip as her hand fell down his chest provocatively sweeping over his abdomen. “I accept your offer. If you do me one favor.”

“What’s that?” he croaked, not at all sure he wanted to know.

“I get to choose your bride. And in return, you can choose my husband. I don’t want this little transaction to sidetrack either of us. I’m not finished yet,” she said as he opened his mouth to speak. “Furthermore, I would like to propose that if we aren’t engaged by the end of eight weeks, our punishment is we must marry each other. I think that should hurry things along, don’t you?”

“What a splendid idea!” Sara gasped, breaking the spell. Nicholas was staring at them as if they had both lost their minds. Sara was clasping her hands over her chest in pure bliss. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

“I uh…” Sebastian struggled for words.

“You do like adventure don’t you, your grace?”

“Agreed.” He held out his hand and grasped hers tightly before whispering in her ear. “I hope you know what you’re in for.”

“No, your grace, I hope you know.”

Chapter Eight

“It’s settled!” Sara announced the next morning as she took a seat by the fireplace.

Everyone looked in her direction. Sebastian wondered if Nicholas had spiked his wife’s tea. Why else would she be looking so chipper? Blast, it was hot in that sitting room. Adjusting his cravat, he looked to Emma who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the tight-lipped expression told him anything.

All of them had been pouring over ways to announce their betrothal without anyone getting suspicious. The only plan set forth was they would announce their engagement at the upcoming ball, deterring the hopefuls from continuing to visit Renwick House.

The rest of the day had been miserable after Sebastian’s announcement. If Emma hadn’t been convinced that morning of his brilliant plan, surely she was now. Several young men wrote poems, others confessed undying love, and three suspicious men with gout arrived just to stare, although one did fall asleep. Yes, all they needed was an environment where he and Emma could find potential mates. An environment that London was not turning out to be.

“And just what exactly is settled, m’dear?” Nicholas, ever brooding and angry, began pacing. Something Sebastian knew Sara found wildly irritating. It always made him seem so much more menacing. She hated reminders of his past, or so Nicholas had told him at Whites that morning when Nicholas had thought it would be a good idea to, yet again, list the many positive reasons marriage would suit him. He also carried a list, yes, a list of women he thought Sebastian would find charming. Naturally, Emma was nowhere to be found on that list.

Wonder of all wonders.

“Nicholas.” Sara’s glare turned steely.

Emma smirked at Sebastian as he gave Nicholas a smug grin as if to say, “Don’t you have your hands full with your own life? Why obsess over mine?”

“Nicholas, stop pacing.” Sara rose from her seat and clapped her hands. “I have found the most wonderful solution to your problem, Sebastian!”

Sebastian groaned aloud. “Forgive me for not jumping up and down in elation. Do continue.” He motioned for Sara to keep talking as she glared at him then back at Nicholas, who had begun pacing again. The poor man was going to wear a hole in their new Persian rug.

“The Rawlings’ house party, of course!”

“No!” The three of them jumped up and yelled at the same time. Sara looked at them like they had lost their minds.

“No?” Sara said.

“No,” Emma repeated. “His house is next to my family’s country estate.”

The last remark gave Sebastian pause. Why wouldn’t the girl wish to visit her own parents? Hadn’t she been living with them all this time? He didn’t want to argue with her, however, because the last thing he wanted was to visit Rawlings. The two men were no longer friends, and Sebastian refused to socialize with him. Rawlings’ name alone was tainted by so much scandal that Sebastian wanted to stay far away from him. It didn’t help that Rawlings had looked at Emma as if she were some kind of delicious morsel to eat rather than a woman. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if Rawlings set his cap for her. What man wasn’t thinking that exact thing? A wealthy, beautiful woman?

Hadn’t he been thinking it the previous morning? Reality cut through him like a knife. As much as he wanted to protect her from men like Rawlings, she was not his to protect.

“Fine,” he said aloud. After all, it would be better for him to hunt for a potential wife in the country where society’s rules weren’t so rigid. He was a duke, for crying out loud. His search for a wife would be easy. Much like sitting ducks at a pond, each potential bride waiting to be picked off by a pistol.

He grinned.

“That look makes me uncomfortable,” Sara whispered to Nicholas who elbowed her.

“What look?” Sebastian asked, meeting their gazes.

“The sly one that indicates you have something up your sleeve. The same look you had on your face when you tried to put bull frogs in Rawlings’ room at Eton.”

“That was one time, and you took a blood oath!” Sebastian roared.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if you got caught, but now that I think on it, you’ve never been an admirer of Rawlings. Any particular reason for that, old friend?”

Oh, let me think. His stupidity. Lack of intelligence. His heinous tendency to bed all the women he meets. “No, no reason,” he said automatically turning his attention to Emma, who had gone quiet during the exchange.

Sara rang for tea and sat next to Emma, most likely making plans for the trip. They would depart after their “special ball.” The plan was to announce their engagement at the ball they had promised then go on to the house party and do some spying to see whom they would like to match with. That would give Sebastian enough time to set his trap. Anyone worth knowing would be aware of his and Emma’s relationship before the house party commenced. It would work perfectly.

Chapter Nine

Emma watched them exchange ideas for the upcoming announcement at the ball as well as the house party. She was grateful Sara had taken it upon herself to iron out the details of the next few days. If everything went as planned, they would go to the ball in two days and announce the impending engagement, running off as many would-be suitors as possible, all the while hunting for the type of person she and Sebastian would like to marry.

Why was it that any talk of marriage left Emma with visions of Sebastian’s smiling face? It wasn’t fair. In fact, it was entirely unfair that she would form such a friendship with a man she could never have. It wasn’t just that he was a duke. It was that he was so good.

His reputation alone was spotless. The fact she was spending time with him made her nervous that somehow her disgrace would rub off on him, as if she was some sort of disease.

Her parents’ behavior toward her only encouraged her foreboding thoughts. When was the last time she had actually been accepted anywhere on their large country estate? Everywhere she walked people whispered, as if they would somehow catch her sin. It didn’t matter that she was innocent.

The damage had been done.

And she had to live with it the rest of her life.

Sara nudged her in the side, shaking her from the silent contemplation. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What’s wrong?” Sara asked. “You aren’t acting like yourself?”

Sebastian walked over. “You mean she isn’t acting overly confident and aggravating?”

“Sebastian St. James!” Sara snapped. “Go irritate someone else. We are making plans for the week. If you’re just going to eavesdrop and hurl insults while you drink whiskey, then you are free to leave.”

Sebastian looked to Nicholas, who merely shrugged. “My wife has spoken.”

“Fine, I’ll go in search of young Samuel. Perhaps he will talk with me.”

****

Sebastian stormed out of the room, though he was careful to maintain a passive composure as he walked by Emma. She lifted an eyebrow in response then turned away. Once he reached the outer hall, he felt somewhat lost. What in the blazes had he been thinking? Storming out of there in search of a small child? Nicholas probably thought he’d completely lost it. The truth of the matter was Sebastian couldn’t control his feelings when he was around Emma. Never had a woman frightened him as much as she did. It was impossible to know what she was actually thinking. The little minx had even challenged his challenge. As if he weren’t a duke at all but…Normal.

Frowning, he ascended the stairs. Is that what he thought of himself? That he was above others, not normal? Certainly not, and he hadn’t in his life ever wanted to be recognized for being above others. It was his life’s purpose to show kindness to everyone, so why was it so important to him that Emma see him as more? Why did his title only matter now?

Because then you could force her to desire you as much as you desire her.

The thought made his head snap to attention. No, that couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t let it. He steadied himself on the railing of the stairs. Imagine marrying that girl? She would drive him to drink more than he already did. There would be no sane moments! His life would be…

Unpredictable.

It would be perfect.

He groaned as his heavy footsteps carried him down the hall to Samuel's room. “Anyone in there?” he called.

Samuel’s nurse came to the door and curtseyed. “Your grace, Samuel is just over on the floor drawing pictures.”

“With paint?” Sebastian stepped around her, ready to reprimand Samuel for getting paint all over creation. What he saw surprised him. He turned to the nurse but she had already left. Samuel was sitting quietly in the corner bent over a painting with his little tongue sticking out between his lips.

He actually looked…tame. Though Sebastian would never say it out loud for fear it would jinx him and he wouldn’t have another quiet moment with the boy ever again.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, taking a seat next to the small boy.

“Miss Emma.” Samuel had used red for her hair.

Of course it was Sebastian’s rotten luck that the one person he was trying to escape was the object of the boy’s affection as well.

“She’s sad,” Samuel said, blowing on the picture. “Her heart is sad.”

Sebastian felt a chill run over his body. “What’s your meaning, Samuel? Did you see Emma cry?”

Samuel grinned. “No, Miss Emma doesn’t cry.”

The ramblings of a five-year-old would never make sense to Sebastian. In his experience children were either extremely brilliant or incredibly confusing. He knew Samuel to be the first, but now it seemed he was turning out to be just like every other child in his acquaintance.

“It’s her face,” Samuel said.

“What’s her face?”

“Look!” Samuel pointed at the picture while his free hand reached up and pulled on Sebastian’s hair, bringing his head further down to the drawing.

It was what one would expect a five-year-old to draw, except the eyes were blue and the face, albeit a little unsettling, held no smile. It was as if Emma were staring right through him.

Samuel sighed loudly. “You don’t see it.”

“It’s a pretty picture,” Sebastian said politely.

Samuel looked up at Sebastian and removed his hand. “You have to make Miss Emma happy.”

“I’ll try.” His heart clenched, it felt as if he had just been given a word from God. “Make this woman happy, and don’t let Me down.” How did little children manage to squeeze under your skin so effectively?

Sebastian, still meditating on the musings of a five-year-old, didn’t even notice Samuel leave. It was probably best. Rising, he walked out of Samuel's room and down the hall to his temporary room.

His sister had arrived a few days ago, and with her a gaggle of young girls and theatrics he wanted no part of. At least he had a place where he could be away from them. And yet he wondered what was worse. His sister and her friends or the temptress named Emma Gates. Maybe the house party would be just the ticket. He needed more than Nicholas and Sara’s judging eyes, lest he forget his own room and sneak into Emma’s instead.

The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. The house party would throw a delightful twist into Sebastian’s plans. Although it would be at Rawlings’ house, which was less than ideal, it would be the rest he needed from the peering eyes of those around him. He did not want to let his grandmother down, knowing full well she expected him to marry this year. He set his mind to putting thoughts of Emma aside.

His reputation, having an heir, making his deceased parents proud...those were the things that matter. Not, he lamented, what Emma was wearing or what she would look like after he made love to her.

Shaking the lustful thoughts from his head, he readied himself for what was to come. A fake betrothal and the hunt for his future bride.

Chapter Ten

Emma awoke the morning of the ball with a feeling of dread. Just how exactly were they going to announce to the ton that she and Sebastian were engaged? And how much research would go into Emma’s background once the announcement was made?

The duchess would most likely weep with tears of joy thinking Emma had taken her advice and seduced her grandson. The opposite was actually true. She felt positively seduced by him. Curse the man for making her feel so alive. It had been only a few days, yet in all their time spent together she was growing more and more attracted to him.

The timing was horrible. For not only was the engagement to be fake, but she was supposed to be picking out Sebastian’s future wife! How in the blazes was she to do that when all she could think about was his kiss?

Yet what other choice did she have? Even if she could seduce him or put him in a compromising situation like the duchess suggested, they could never be together. Her past would destroy their future. Plain and simple.

The last thing she needed was to bring Sebastian down in flames. The mental picture of beautiful Sebastian being socially ostracized because of his attachment to her made her ill, yet he made it sound like it was an absolute foolproof plan. She had nothing to worry about as long as they each stuck to the plan and found mates for one another.

What could possibly go wrong?

Her mind flashed to their shared kisses.

Oh that.

Splendid.

It was just a kiss. So it was two kisses. Or was it three? Her lips burned with the memory as she pushed herself out of bed to ring for tea. Besides, she was a challenge to Sebastian. That had to be it. She was probably the only woman in existence who didn’t get tongue-tied in his presence or try to seduce him at every turn. In fact, Sara hadn’t even felt the need to warn her of Sebastian. When Emma asked at dinner if she should worry about his advances during their fake engagement, Sara had laughed.

Sara said although Sebastian seemed the rakish sort, he would rather perish than attach scandal to his family. Emma had lost her appetite. Mainly because her middle name was scandal. But as long as Sebastian wasn’t aware of that, they would be safe.

“Emma?” Sara knocked on the door twice before entering.

“Good morning!” Emma tried to sound cheerful though she loathed mornings, and because of Sebastian, her brooding thoughts had kept her up until the wee hours of the morning.

“The children are with nurse, and I was wondering if you wanted to visit Lady Fenton and catch up on some gossip.”

Oh goodness, the loudest lady in London.

“Sure, give me a few minutes.”

Sara nodded and bounded out of the room. Emma searched desperately for something to wrap around her head so she would still have her hearing tonight when she was at the ball with Sebastian.

Within the hour, Sara and Emma were knocking on Lady Fenton’s door. The man who answered looked down on them and asked for their cards. Sara, not having any of that at her mother’s home, pushed past him and yelled Lady Fenton’s name. Sara had only recently learned that she was the illegitimate daughter of Lady Fenton and the deceased Duke of Haines.

“Ah, my gels!” Lady Fenton yelled as she rounded the corner with arms raised.

At forty and five years she was still a beautiful woman, with shots of grey in her otherwise auburn hair. Emma hadn’t seen her since before the incident, but she remembered the twinkle in Lady Fenton’s crystal blue eyes and the pitch of her voice.

Fortunately, it seemed her voice wasn’t as loud as Emma remembered.

“And look at you!”

There goes my hearing.

“So beautiful!”

And sanity.

“And your bosom!”

Oh look, my dignity just flew out the window.

“Thank you, Lady Fenton. It’s been too long since we’ve talked.” Emma curtsied and followed the two women into the drawing room.

“So, what’s the latest on-dit?” Sara’s eyes shined with excitement, while Emma’s eyes scrutinized the situation. Nicholas did need to take his poor wife out more if she was this starved for gossip.

“Well!” Lady Fenton cleared her throat. “I have it on good authority there is to be an announcement of gigantic proportions tonight!”

Emma shifted in her seat and nervously looked to Sara, who seemed not the least bit disturbed by the news.

“Truly?” Sara said.

“Why yes, and I hear it’s going to be from the Duke of Tempest himself. Isn’t he staying with you, my dear?”

“I’m sure that is his grace’s business to share, Mother.” Sara hid her smile behind her teacup. Emma coughed.

“It’s just as well that he plans to settle down. Word around town is no woman has ever been able to catch the man. Oh, he’s had his mistresses all right. But he’s the unreachable. I would eat my bonnet if a lady could get him to settle down, or better yet, if a certain lady could make him fall in love.”

Emma accidently let out a long sigh. Both women’s eyes bore into her.

“Sorry, I, um...”

“She’s tired,” Sara excused.

“Anyway.” Lady Fenton waved her hand in the air. “It is no matter. He’ll probably marry some young girl who’s still green behind the ears, a girl without scandal.”

Emma felt her face grow hot, even though she knew Lady Fenton had no idea her reputation at the country estate. Her parents had done a good job of “cleaning up the mess,” or so they phrased it. She unclenched her hands and tried to pay attention but couldn’t help but wonder what Sebastian was doing at that moment.

Just then a butler announced the Duchess of Tempest. Of all the rotten luck. Eyes twinkling, she gracefully entered the room and embraced Lady Fenton before taking a seat. The woman was so regal it hurt Emma’s eyes to look at her. The duchess’s head to toe jewels reminded Emma that this woman was not only important, but she was extremely wealthy and powerful. Oh, yes, and somewhat insane, considering she had asked Emma to seduce her grandson.

“I do hope I’m not intruding,” the duchess said.

“Oh, Annabel, you could never intrude!” Lady Fenton smiled as she took another sip of tea. Emma prayed both ladies would soon tire of talk so she could go back to the house and hide. “We were actually just discussing your grandson and his impending marriage.”

“Ah….” The duchess looked at Emma. “So did you do what I asked then, my dear.”

All eyes darted to her.

She could have burst into flames, her face felt so hot. “I, um...”

“Oh, don’t be shy!” the duchess urged. “How did you do it? Did you corner him? Spike his tea?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh let me guess, all you needed to do was flutter those gorgeous eyes and he was finished.” She winked and patted Emma on the knee.

Sara and Lady Fenton’s eyes bulged.

Perfect.

Emma tried to think of a good lie, or anything to get her out of the awkward situation she now found herself in.

“Emma.” Lady Fenton’s grin could not get any wider. “Don’t tell me you are to be engaged to the duke?”

She couldn’t find her voice.

Sara spoke. “Well, it’s all hush-hush at the moment. You understand how these things are.”

Both ladies nodded emphatically.

“I’m just relieved he’s finally settling down. I worry about that boy. He’s so concerned with his reputation, with making his family proud. I’d be proud of him regardless of his reputation. I do love him, you know.”

Emma’s heart warmed.

“He tries to be happy. And I do believe he is, but I wish he wasn’t so stuffy. I wasn’t jesting when I said I’ve tried to knock him off his high horse. Life is about mistakes. It’s about learning from your past and moving on toward your future.”

Emma swallowed the sudden knot in her throat.

“And,” the duchess continued. “I am so happy you will be a part of his future, my dear. You have my full support.”

God would surely strike her down for lying. By the time they said their goodbyes to everyone, Emma was ready to marry Sebastian solely to save face with his grandmother, the Duchess of Tempest.

Chapter Eleven

Sebastian felt ill.

After retiring to his quarters the previous night, he had found it nearly impossible to pry the image of Emma’s face from his mind. Then the dreams of her lush body pressed up against his only worsened his mood. It hadn’t helped that Samuel had made Sebastian more curious about Emma’s past and the reasons for her being here in the first place. Appearances were not always what they seemed.

Sebastian had decided to go to Whites to meet with Nicholas and Lord Rawlings. It was not a meeting he wanted to be a part of, nevertheless, when his ducal carriage pulled up to the establishment, he put a tight grin on his face and walked into Hades.

“Ah, your grace.” Rawlings’ cocky grin leered over his cup of ale.

“Rawlings,” he ground out.

Nicholas rolled his eyes, which was rather hypocritical considering Nicholas had nearly killed Rawlings a few years ago after he had kissed Sara’s hand. Sebastian sorely needed Nicholas on his side.

“The house party,” Sebastian stated, getting straight to business. “My fiancée and I will be attending.”

Rawlings lifted a brow. “Didn’t know you had it in you, old man.”

Sebastian’s fist tightened.

Nicholas gave him a warning look.

“Who’s to be the lucky lady?” Rawlings took another long sip and waited, glancing between the two men.

Nicholas answered. “Miss Emma Gates.”

Rawlings choked on his ale. “Miss Gates?” The color in his face seemed to diminish. He didn’t say anything for a great while, then, adjusting his cravat, he managed a tight smile. “Well then, congratulations are in order.”

“Yes,” Sebastian said slowly as he motioned for more ale. Carefully, he watched as Rawlings' face seemed to grow grimmer.

“I say, are you feeling well?” Nicholas directed toward Rawlings.

“Fine.” He shrugged and guzzled the entire contents of his cup. “Do you need any special arrangements for your quarters when you arrive?”

“Separate rooms, if you please.”

Rawlings smirked. “Of course.”

Sebastian fought the urge to hit him. Nicholas looked at Sebastian’s clenched fist and shook his head slowly, almost as if he knew what getting into a fight would do to Sebastian. What he didn’t know was why he hated Rawlings so much. Naturally Rawlings’ rakish attitude rubbed a majority of the ton the wrong way. But a rake Sebastian could handle. Hadn’t he been accused of the same thing several times past? No, it wasn’t that. It was the simple fact Rawlings didn’t care whom he hurt when he made bad choices. He laughed and walked on as if the consequences were no matter to him. Word had it Rawlings was heavily in debt, which explained his already foxed state when they arrived. Overindulging was always the first sign of debt, at least in Sebastian’s eyes.

“So you wish to be in separate rooms like a good little duke,” Rawlings mocked.

Nicholas grabbed Sebastian just in time, though Sebastian noted the fire in Nicholas’s eyes as well.

“You two need to drink more. I was merely taunting you. You’ve always been too easy, Tempest. Don’t you remember the time at Eton when you got that blasted nickname? ‘The Angel Duke.’ I never thought you’d actually live up to all the hype.”

Sebastian swallowed, trying to forget that day, trying to stamp it out of his memory. The only three men who knew the truth of the incident were Rawlings, Nicholas, and himself. Sworn to secrecy. The nickname was just a ruse for what had actually happened.

“Don’t…” Sebastian said.

“What do you think people would say if they knew the reason you ended up saving that little girl was because you were out after hours? Drinking and gambling with yours truly?”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “They would most likely laugh it off as some sort of adolescent behavior and tell the story of how Sebastian saved the girl from drowning all over again; this time with much more enthusiasm, considering Sebastian’s spotless reputation.”

Rawlings looked away. “Spotless…that’s an interesting word to use.”

“His reputation is spotless; it always has been. Seb could get away with murder.” Nicholas laughed.

Sebastian appreciated his effort to bring merriment to the far too tense room. But even he knew it wouldn’t work, not when Rawlings was so deep in his cups.

“I wonder how important your reputation is to you, Tempest.”

“It’s everything,” Sebastian snapped. And it truly was. It was his duty to have a spotless reputation. To make his deceased parents proud through his ability to lead his family and marry well. “I think we’re done here.” He launched out his chair and leaned over the table, savoring the moment Rawlings realized he had pushed him too far. “Stay away from me and stay away from Miss Gates.”

Rawlings lifted his empty glass in the air and nodded. “She isn’t yours.”

“Nor yours,” he barked back.

Rawlings eyes turned black. “We shall see, won’t we? I don’t believe you are married yet.”

Sebastian made a lunge at Rawlings’ throat, but Nicholas’s hands were already in place, pulling him toward the door. “Let it go,” he urged.

****

Rawlings stumbled into the poorly lit establishment, desperate to find the one man who could help him out of this predicament. Table after table was filled with loud obnoxious drunks. Knowing he shouldn’t be quick to judge, he tried to push past them and nearly fell over a chair.

“So you’ve decided to help me after all?”

The truth. Rawlings wanted to help him. He was family, but at what cost to him? Before he hadn’t wanted anything to do with this man’s desperate plans, but now he also had a favor. The debt collectors wouldn’t stop calling. He had unsuccessfully tried to ask for a loan from his mother the day before. The door had been slammed in his face. It didn’t help matters that he had refused to own up to his end of the bargain given to him by his deceased father.

It was up to him. And he was at loss for what to do. He would lose everything if he didn’t marry soon. The country estate, the townhome in London—everything. And all because the angel duke had to ruin his plans for redemption. Tempest had always been too pure for his own good. Why was it he was constantly surrounded by angels singing when Rawlings had to suffer? Sure, it was unfortunate Tempest had lost his parents. But Rawlings couldn’t figure out how it was his fault, nor why Tempest was more deserving than he.

One more plan. He had one more idea. And he was nearly out of time to follow through with it. Luckily he had an ally—someone who would do the dirty work for him in return for one tiny favor.

All he needed was information on the sudden announcement between Tempest and Lady Gates. Something didn’t feel right about their betrothal, and he needed help to find out, though the last of his money had been spent on his extravagant house party in hopes to lure the wealthier of the ladies to his estate.

Plans had changed when he discovered Emma was seeking a husband.

The look on her face when she had seen him nearly broke his heart. Yes, he was after her money. What desperate man wouldn’t be? But what if, by some miracle, he could rekindle what they’d had? What if he could pull her away from Tempest, the arrogant cad, and finally prove his loyalty?

It was decided. She would be his. It was the perfect and only solution to the massive mountain that was Lord Rawlings’ debt. Now all he needed was this one favor from his half brother. Besides, John was the type who knew how to convince people to talk. If anyone could find out the secret to the duke’s sudden interest, it would be John, and his brother owed him this. After all those years of silence, his brother could give him this one boon. Their secret had nearly destroyed the family and done unmistakable damage to his father.

The more Rawlings thought about it the more secure he felt about being able to gain his brothers favor. And what did John have to live for? Not only would John be able to find out why Tempest was interested but surely he could satisfy his own twisted need to see Emma within the Rawlings family rather than another peer.

****

“Why does he have to bring it up every blasted time?” Sebastian said. He was still fuming over the meeting with Rawlings the previous day. He and Nicholas were patiently waiting for the women to descend the stairs in their pretty dresses. Everything had been taken care of. They would make the announcement tonight and later on in the week travel to Rawlings’ country estate for a house party.

Cards, giggling women, garden parties, and tea.

Lovely.

Then again house parties also included dark corridors, private rooms, and unchaperoned alone time.

Even better.

Then again every blasted time Sebastian thought of alone time, it was Emma’s face that invaded his thoughts. He pinched his nose and sat.

Nicholas cleared his throat. “I wasn’t aware you and Rawlings still had such a feud between the two of you.”

“He’s incapable of leaving the past in the past,” Sebastian grumbled.

Nicholas sighed. “I know I take my own life into my hands when I argue this point again, Seb, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was!” he roared, jumping out of the chair. “If I hadn’t been so busy gambling and drinking that entire week I would have realized it was my parents’ anniversary. I wouldn’t have been anywhere near the river when—”

“Seb, don’t.” Nicholas’s eyes pleaded.

“I saved her at the cost of their lives.” Sebastian finished his whiskey and closed his eyes. “And every time I see that little girl’s face, I wish she would have died, because maybe…maybe if she had, they wouldn’t have.”

Nicholas went to the liquor cabinet and poured another whiskey. “You have no way of knowing that.”

Sebastian refused to answer, because in his heart he knew he was right. Nobody knew the real story behind his cursed nickname. Nobody had any idea the dark thoughts that haunted his dreams—the faces of his parents, both lovely, wanting to surprise him that week at school. Knowing he was busy, they had sent ahead word they would arrive that night for dinner.

When he didn’t show, they had became worried.

What they hadn’t known was that Sebastian, being young and stupid, had gone on a week-long drinking and gambling binge with Rawlings, his best friend at the time. Nicholas, of course, had come along, but at the time wasn’t near the hellion the other two were.

On his way to the latest gambling spot, Sebastian had happened upon a small girl playing on the bridge. Her bonnet had fallen into the river. She had reached out to grab it and slipped, falling into the icy cold water.

Sebastian had been just deep enough in his cups that he hadn’t felt the cold water shock his body as he jumped in after her. Within seconds he had not only grabbed the girl from certain death but had swam to the shore to see at least ten different onlookers all clapping. Stupidly he had taken a bow, kissed the girl on the head as he heard whispers of “That’s the future Duke of Tempest…”

He had celebrated his good luck the rest of the night.

The next day he had awakened smelling and feeling like he had spent hours getting beat at Jacksons. Only it was about to get worse. He had been informed that his parents had not been able to locate him, and worried that he had misunderstood their letter, they had gone back to the country estate, only to get stuck in a terrible thunderstorm. Their carriage had crashed into another just a ways from his home at around the same time he had been pulling the girl out of the water.

So in his mind, even though for years Nicholas and his grandmother had told him differently, he could have prevented his parents’ death. And now it was up to him to make them proud. Never to be that boy again, but instead to be a man.

It was why he never drank excessively and why gambling was for the worst type of sinners. No, his reputation was everything. It had to be. Because the last time his reputation was anything but spotless, the two most important people in his life had been taken from him.

It was his constant reminder that the fates never promised to play fair. That people’s choices always had consequences. Angel duke was a good name, because it bitterly reminded him of who he was and who he had to be to make retribution for the lives that had been stolen from him.

“We’re ready!”

Emma’s cheerful voice penetrated his solemn mood. He snapped his head to the door of the study and managed a bright smile. The room was dimly lit, making it near impossible for him to see her dress clearly. A cloak covered her creamy shoulders. He closed his eyes, sending a quick thanks up to heaven. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to see her shoulders. Not now, and probably not for the rest of the night.

How was one to act when the girl he was affianced to was the girl he was attracted to but not the one he’d marry? The very woman who was to choose his future bride. The irony was too much. As if his body needed reminding, his pulse jumped wildly again when she moved to stand directly in front of him.

Perplexed he simply stared at Emma. Both thinking of an answer to his own thought provoking question and waiting for her to say something. Instead, she stared right back.

“As amusing as it is to watch the two of you stare with your mouths gaping open, I think it’s time we go to the ball and announce your betrothal, hmm?” Nicholas stepped around Sebastian, hitting him on the back in passing. It jolted Sebastian and he closed his mouth.

Emma lifted an eyebrow.

“Let’s go,” he said a little too gruffly.

“Either you’ve had a little too much whiskey or not enough. What were you two discussing in there?” Emma pointed back to the study. Her measly attempt at conversation made Sebastian’s mood darker.

Ignoring her question for a good five seconds, he grabbed his hat and offered his arm. “Nothing at all, my dear. Shall we?”

Chapter Twelve

The ball was magnificent. Animated people were talking and drinking in every corner of the room. Candles lit the would-be dark corridors, most likely trying to deter young couples from the path of ruination. Gowns of silk and lace. Ladies in scandalous clothing with low cut dresses fanned themselves as men teased and flirted. Everyone seemed to sparkle in the night. In fact, everything seemed more alive. She felt more alive, then again, she mustn’t let her thoughts or her heart get ahead of matters. She was here to announce a fake engagement, and then the real work would begin.

She didn’t even see Sebastian approach. “Are you ready to start some rumors?”

Laughing, she turned slowly. Sebastian was dressed impeccably in white and black. His wavy blond hair fell perfectly over his left eye. If she hadn’t known his identity, she would think him rather rakish tonight. He licked his lips and leaned in.

Her heart nearly stopped. Eyes blue and piercing bore into her.

“We might have a little fun before the announcement, let the tongues wag so to speak. What do you think, dear?” His gloved hand was outstretched.

It felt like the story in the Bible in which the serpent told Eve it was only one bite.

But this was the Duke of Tempest. He was known for his manners, his impeccable reputation. So why did his touch, his challenge, make her feel wicked all the way down to her toes?

Well, might as well go down with him.

Every delicious piece of him.

Emma! she scolded herself.

She took his hand and allowed him to lead her into the middle of the dance floor.

“A waltz.” His breath teased the side of her face.

Oh, she was in trouble. Why did everything have to do with dancing? Her past seemed to haunt her with every step she took. In Sebastian’s arms she felt stronger, more capable of facing the monsters that threatened to destroy her at such a young age. What should be a fairy tale felt like a nightmare. Conflicting emotions pounded in her. One minute she was scandalized by the way her body responded to his, the next she was weak with fear.

Twice she had attempted to dance with this man, and both times she had felt ready to faint from the emotional turmoil of it all. Earlier in the evening Sebastian had asked if she was prepared to dance in front of the ton. Saying it would be absolutely necessary for them to dance together in order to push the gossip along. Arguing seemed awkward, considering she hadn’t wanted to explain her aversion to any sort of dancing. It would do neither of them any favors for her to discuss her blatant fear and anger associated with the activity. So she braced herself for what needed to be done and tried to be herself as he led her onto the floor.

Sebastian smiled down at her and winked.

This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

Her breath quickened as he pulled her closer. Had they danced a waltz before? In answer, his hand moved dangerously close to her bottom. No, she would have remembered that hand. That hand…his touch.

The music hadn’t yet started. She still had time to move away. Chest constricting, she began to panic. Dancing brought the memories back, the pain.

“Remember to stay close. We are, after all, in love.” His eyes held wicked intent.

Oh, the things his grandmother would assume about her tonight. It would be amusing if not so terribly heart wrenching. The duchess would more than likely hunt her down with a fire poker after they renounce the engagement.

“Emma.”

“Hmm?” Panicked, she began looking for both the duchess and all sharp objects, just in case word got out tonight that they were pulling the wool over the entirety of the ton.

Sebastian brought his hand up to her jaw and traced it. “Nobody’s going to believe you if you don’t relax.”

Right, relax, when sin incarnate is touching my face.

“That’s it,” Sebastian soothed, his breath tangling with hers. His gaze locked on her lips.

Oh, no.

“You’re beautiful.” The strain of his voice was apparent.

Emma sucked in her breath as Sebastian pulled her even closer. The room faded away. It was just them. She couldn’t look away if she tried. His smile held no smugness, no self-satisfied grin. No, he was pleased. Enjoying himself, enjoying the moment. His dimples lit up his already handsome face.

In a moment of sheer bravery and some might say idiocy, Emma lifted her hand to cup his smooth jaw. He shuddered under her touch.

And then bent his head and brushed the lightest of kisses across her lips.

It was a reverent kiss. One Emma would have liked to repeat.

If the music hadn’t stopped.

She felt herself flush.

Sebastian, bless him, didn’t even seem to notice. She gulped, suddenly nervous about all the attention. The ramifications of what they were doing came back full force, nearly sending her into a frenzied panic.

“Sebastian…” she whispered. He hadn’t let her go, his gaze was immobile.

“Hmm?” he said.

“Everyone’s watching.”

“Of course they are.” He continued to dance as if the music hadn’t stopped.

“Sebastian,” Emma said, this time a little louder.

He shook his head as if trying to wake up from a trance and looked around the room. His throat cleared as he blushed nervously, grasped at her hand, and led her to the grand staircase.

The room was as silent as death.

Emma figured that even if the room were set on fire, the entirety of the ton would wait for whatever announcement the duke had to make.

Each step her dainty toes took across the shiny marble staircase resounded like another nail in her coffin, thanks to the vivid picture she had of the duchess crying like a wild woman and chasing her through the streets of London. This wasn’t entirely fair, considering she was such a nice lady, albeit a tad extreme in her methods.

Emma was sweating by the time a footman handed her a glass of champagne. Her hands shook as she brought the cool bubbly liquid up to her lips. Crowds began gathering at the foot of the stairs, all watching in anticipation for the impending announcement. Did that kiss count as a girl being ruined? Because, although it had been short and sweet, it had nearly brought her to her knees. Kisses like that got girls into compromising situations, and kisses like that made girls forget everything they’d learned in church. Shuddering, she tried to cross her arms with the champagne still in her hands.

Sebastian lifted his glass. The room was already silent; there wasn’t any need for him to draw more attention. In that moment, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was, and Emma chastised herself again for daydreaming about the man. He was not for her. And she had the unfortunate task of picking out the perfect woman for him.

“I would like to announce…” Sebastian’s commanding voice took captive the entire room. Even Emma felt faint with anticipation, and she already knew what he was going to say. “…my engagement to Miss Emma Gates!” Glass still raised, he turned and kissed her full on the mouth before she had time to protest.

The room erupted with shouts of praise, shock, and applause. Emma had no choice but to act pleased with the kiss. It was a warm, inviting, and haunting kiss, which she had no right to enjoy, considering she was not his true fiancée.

When Sebastian pulled away and winked, Emma took the chance to throw back the entire contents of her flute. Guilt pervaded her when she saw Nicholas frown, so she grabbed for another glass. The nerve of the man! What was his goal, to ruin her for any other man? Even husbands and wives did not engage in such physical affection. Well, most husbands and wives, excluding Nicholas and Sara of course.

Nicolas glared at her again as she shakily lifted the flute to her lips. He deserved everything he received. After all, this was his fault. If he hadn’t thrown them to the wolves earlier that week, they wouldn’t have to go to such desperate lengths.

So, Emma threw back the contents of the glass and did a mock curtsy. She heard Nicholas swear before he grabbed her by the arm and led her away from Sebastian, who was already deep in conversation with the duchess. So actually, Nicholas was saving her from having to lie again to the woman who would inevitably be hunting her later in the Season.

“What?” she snapped, pulling her arm free.

“What in the—”

“Language,” Sara scolded, coming along side him.

“But I didn’t say any—”

“You were going to.” She patted him on the shoulder and rescued Emma.

Emma couldn’t stop herself from turning around and sticking out her tongue. Nicholas looked like he was ready to charge after her, but Lady Fenton stood in the way, grasping at the lapels of his coat and pulling him into a joyful hug, obviously pleased with the recent news.

Once Emma and Sara were safely out of harm’s way, or at least enough out of the way so people wouldn’t disturb their private conversation, Sara asked, “Did you know he was going to kiss you?”

Emma felt the need to lie.

“Of course. It was all part of our plan. Brilliant, wasn’t it?” She nervously licked her lips. But it was useless. The sensation of Sebastian’s lips on hers was something her treacherous body would never let her forget.

“If you say so.” Sara didn’t sound convinced.

“I do.” Emma flashed a brilliant smile, but felt anything but brilliant. Frazzled? Yes. Confused? Maybe. And dare she admit a little irritated that she had managed to get herself kissed three times by the one man she couldn’t keep. The sooner they were done with the ruse, the better. All she needed to do was survive the house party. How hard could that be?

Chapter Thirteen

Sebastian threw himself across his large bed and sighed. Things had gotten out of hand extremely fast. If Emma hadn’t continued to badger him, he would have most likely continued kissing her into oblivion not caring who watched.

He hadn’t actually ruined her. Had he?

No, it was just a kiss. Only a soft kiss.

You enjoyed it.

He threw a pillow against the wall.

No I didn’t.

And now he was arguing with himself. Trying to convince his body it wasn’t completely entranced, trying to cool the blood running like fire through his veins. He wanted her.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Sir?” His valet stepped inside the doors.

“What?” he snapped.

“A gentleman is here to see you. I put him in the study.”

“A gentleman? At midnight? Is here to see me? Has Nicholas shot someone I’m not aware of?” Sebastian pushed off the bed, noticing how the corners of his valet’s mouth lifted into an almost smile. Servants were told not to smile, but the angel duke liked to have his happy.

“Well, best go see what it’s about.”

The house was dark, all except the light that was still on in the study. He walked in and shut the door.

“Tempest.”

“Rawlings.” He sat opposite the man and waited for whatever news he felt the need to bring. “Is there a particular reason you felt the need to come to Renwicks’ home so late into the evening? What is it that could not wait until the normal calling hours?”

Rawlings grinned. “Oh, your grace, I doubt this news will be better in the day time.”

“Well?” Sebastian was irritated. “Let’s have it then.”

Rawlings grinned smugly. It never ceased to amaze Sebastian how much his old friend had changed. They had been best of friends back at Eton. Back before the incident. Rawlings had been the one person Sebastian could rely on, until Sebastian decided to reject all things sinful and selfish, driving a wedge between the two. Sebastian was forever to be known as the angel, leaving Rawlings the appropriate title of demon.

“It appears there has been some confusion regarding your announcement this night.” Rawlings inspected his perfectly manicured fingernails before adding, “Imagine my surprise when I heard the angel duke was using a young girl for his own advantage. Shocking, don’t you think?”

Sebastian fought the urge to choke the smug grin right off his face. “Are you threatening me? It's impossible you would be privy to any of that information.”

“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—”

“You could just what? Oh, please, don’t leave me hanging. I’m left in dreadful suspense.”

Emma swore under her breath and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Oh why hadn’t she just taken a nap?

****

Thanks to Emma, Sebastian was now fully awake, and even more fully amused. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he couldn’t form a sentence. Each time he tried, he looked across at Emma’s red face and the amusement started all over again.

“Please do tell what was in that little head of yours a moment ago. Were you dreaming of me, sweet?”

“Hardly,” she clipped.

“Ah, then you were trying to seduce me with your words, you little minx. What was I again? A sly fox? I haven’t been called one of those in a long while. However did you know? Oh, Emma, are you not speaking to me now?”

Her silence was his answer, though he noticed the hint of a smile play across her lush lips. Unfortunately her little speech did more to his body than he would have liked to admit. Hiding his attraction to her was going to take a herculean effort on his part. Not that he needed to hide his attraction. After all, they were supposed to be betrothed. But it wasn’t real, could never be real. She was his best friend’s cousin and she deserved to be loved and cherished. That type of marriage was not in the cards for Sebastian. People he loved died, and his heart couldn’t bear sharing his body and soul with someone just to have them leave him.

The rest of the carriage ride was met with Sebastian’s incessant joking and ridicule to try to get Emma to talk. And Emma’s uncanny ability to ignore him? If he were vying for her attention, he would be frustrated if not completely at his wit’s end.

But he wasn’t vying for her attention.

So those blasted feelings of irritation about the fact that she could simply ignore him didn’t mean anything.

Sebastian was so lost in thought that when the carriage doors opened, he wasn’t as careful as usual and fell flat on his face.

“Your grace!” Footman, livery, everyone within a safe distance ran at him. The only object hurt was his pride. The servants probably assumed that since he had tripped on their watch they would all be let go.

“I’m—” He was about to say fine, but was rudely interrupted by the sound of Emma’s laughter. Turning ever so slowly, his eyes fell on the object of his distraction, doubled over in the carriage, tears streaming down her face.

“Now that I’ve made a cake of myself…” Sebastian held out his dirty gloved hand to Emma who, still laughing, took his hand and thanked him, but not before showing him how one gets out of a carriage, and producing such an act of showing exactly how to exit a carriage that he couldn’t help but applaud the girl’s effort at making him feel like a lummox.

“Minx.”

“Fox,” she retorted then curtsied. His smile was firmly in place all the way up to the large doors of Rawlings' estate.

Chapter Fifteen

Sebastian instantly sobered when Rawlings himself opened the door and, without giving the duke the proper bow and address society demanded, turned his attention toward Emma and smiled wickedly.

“Miss Gates, it has been too long.”

Should he name his seconds? Sebastian felt a strange bolt of jealousy slam into his chest as he realized more than one man feigned ownership over Emma. Fists clenched he fought the urge to pummel the man in front of him, offering a tight smile instead. Did he have any special claim on Emma? Any more claim than Rawlings? If anything, he had less of a claim, considering he was to be helping her with the male sex instead of wanting to draw his pistol on the first man who looked at her. But did that man have to be Rawlings?

Emma’s face registered absolute shock, as Rawlings bent over her hand and brushed the lightest of kisses across her knuckles. Her eyes squinted as if trying to figure him out. Rawlings turned to Sebastian.

“Your grace.”

Sebastian inclined his head at Rawlings' disappearing form. The cad had barely acknowledged him. If that was how he was going to play it, fine. He loathed him. Besides, it was inexcusable for him to eye Emma the way he had.

“Come.” Sebastian held out his arm for Emma to take, but she was frozen in place. Painful emotions whirled across her beautiful features. “Emma, are you all right?”

“Fine.” She cleared her throat and pasted a strained smile on her face. “Do you think it’s time for refreshments?” With that, she walked ahead of him.

Something was wrong. And how in creation did she know where she was going in this large house? It was impressive to say the least, boasting of centuries of money. Maybe Rawlings wasn’t so deep in debt after all.

Sebastian, still perplexed, was taken up to his bedchambers to freshen up before dinner. Most of the guests were arriving the following day, leaving Rawlings alone with the guests who had materialized that afternoon. Among the few were Sir Belverd and his wife, and finally Lord Richards and his daughters.

All in all it would not be a lively night. Rumor had it Belverd’s wife was increasing—the only reason Sebastian could think of for Belverd to attend was as a favor to Nicholas, who couldn’t pull himself away from his responsibilities long enough to aid in Sebastian’s hunt.

That left Lord Richards and his two daughters. Never had Sebastian met debutantes more unfit for a Season in London than those girls. While both heartbreakingly beautiful, they were so shy it was more interesting to talk to oneself than endeavoring to engage them in conversation.

Sebastian gave it one more Season before Lord Richards started adding more blunt to their dowries.

Donning his dinner jacket, he left his room and bounded down the stairs taking them two at a time. He hadn’t seen Emma since her odd behavior earlier. It wouldn’t surprise him if she were resting in her room. The girl had been too busy talking to herself in the carriage to sleep. The memory brought a smile to his lips.

He walked slowly down the hall. A room at the end was still lit, possibly another guest getting ready to come to dinner. And then he heard Emma’s voice.

“Lord Rawlings, please…”

“You never used to call me Lord Rawlings. I remember a time when you used to say my name. How I wish I could hear it now from your lips. Say it, Emma, say my name. Has it truly been so long ago?”

Emma’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes, it was another lifetime, my lord.”

“But we are so different now. I have my father’s title. Everything that happened was lost when he died. Can we not start anew? You can’t imagine my surprise at seeing you in London…or the absolute shock that you’d attach yourself to one such as Tempest. You don’t actually believe you can win him, do you? My bet says the poor man doesn’t even know.”

“It is not your concern, my lord.” Her voice rose. Sebastian wanted to cheer as he neared closer to the door and listened.

Rawlings laughed. “Easy, we wouldn’t want you getting overheated before dinner. You have not answered my question. Does he know, Emma? I would hate to see such a beneficial match turn out so…badly, wouldn’t you?”

“Don’t,” Emma choked.

“Ah, my sweet, I would never do that to you. Haven’t I kept my silence all these years? I loved you—I still do.”

As he listened, Sebastian imagined all the worst possible things the two could be discussing. She knew Rawlings intimately, that had to be it. Had he—had he ruined her somehow? Had she formed an attachment at a young age?

Sebastian’s mind was reeling. It would do him no good to sit and listen to them continue to talk. But he would ask Emma later. She owed him that much.

****

Emma looked at Lord Rawlings’ face one last time before she felt a single tear fall down her cheek. “You are wrong, my lord. It will never be the same again.”

“Why?”

He was standing so close to her it was hard to breathe. She had once loved this man. Though her love had only extended to friendship, she had wanted to give everything she was to him. And he had let her down more than anyone and still held all the cards. One word from him and Sebastian would hate her, society would turn her out on her ear, and she would have no one.

Suddenly angry again she looked up into his crystal blue eyes. “Because you made your choice long ago, Rawlings, and that choice did not include me.”

His nostrils flared with a mixture of anger and irritation. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her into a ferocious kiss, then forcefully released her, nearly sending her flying backward. She was too shocked to say or do anything. Was he insane? The way the candles flickered across his face made him darkly handsome. Too bad he was in league with the devil. Just what had he hoped to accomplish?

Emma stepped around him and fled the room. It was her only choice. After being kissed by Rawlings, what else was she to do? He merely stood there and stared at her as if his kiss would make her remember what they had shared. He hadn’t kissed her when they were courting, except once on the cheek. He had been different then, less scarred, less ruined by the darkness of the world.

Now he appeared desperate. But what did that have to do with her? The only thing that came to mind was that he was using her as a way to get to Sebastian. Maybe he needed money? Naturally she would be a good bargaining chip if she was actually to marry Sebastian, but she wasn’t. Sebastian wouldn’t pay to keep her reputation safe. Once they broke off the farce of an engagement, they would go their separate ways.

Emma groaned as she made her way down the poorly lit hallway. A sudden headache began throbbing at her temples. Mind still reeling, she walked around the corner and bumped into something.

Sebastian steadied her with strong arms.

“Not now,” he said. “Later tonight, before I lose my mind with worry and curiosity, you will tell me what that was about, Emma. Now,” he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her, “wipe your tears and put a smile on your face. Later you can cry. Right now you need to pretend everything’s fine.”

Emma laughed bitterly. Hadn’t she been doing exactly that since the incident? Pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t? Pasting a smile on her face because she couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in her parents’ eyes?

After Sebastian deemed her presentable, she walked in on his arm and was promptly seated next to Sir Belverd, who was more than happy to tell her stories of Sebastian and Nicholas’s wild days at University.

Chapter Sixteen

Emma tried to listen attentively as Sir Belverd droned on about Nicholas and Sebastian, but each time she raised her eyes to meet his, she would have the bad fortune to also meet Rawlings’ gaze, considering he was seated directly behind Sir Belverd at the head of the table.

Gulping down the last bit of wine in her glass, for it had been refilled at least twice, she managed a tiny smile as Belverd’s voice continued to fill the silence.

Sebastian, because he was the highest ranking guest, was seated away from her next to Rawlings, which was probably miserable for both of them, considering she knew they despised one another. She only hoped Sebastian hadn’t let his fork slip a few times, then again, maybe her appetite would return if she were to see Rawlings on the other end of a pointed fork or knife, making him nearly as uncomfortable as she.

Seeing him again was absolutely miserable. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with her for years, and now, suddenly, he wants to start fresh? As if the incident had never happened? Her stomach recoiled at the thought he would use the information he knew against her, to either hurt her or hurt Sebastian, both thoughts unbearable.

Course after course was served. With each one more anxiety piled onto Emma until she thought she might burst. When the last course was finished, the men adjoined to the study with their port and cigars, while the women took their sherry and ventured into the music room for some talk.

Emma wanted nothing more than to discuss tonight’s happenings with Sebastian and be on her way to bed. Exhaustion was quickly setting in. By the time she made it to the music room, all three ladies, Belverd’s wife and the two Richardson girls, were already seated, all eyes set on her.

Forcing herself to smile, she walked to the nearest seat and waited for the usual gossip. Instead, one of the Richardson girls, whom Emma believed was named Lily, cleared her throat and leaned forward.

“What is his grace like?”

Oh perfect, how was she to talk about Sebastian when even Emma found him to be a mystery at times. Naturally the girls thought she knew him better than she did.

“He’s lovely,” Emma said.

“Lovely?” Lady Belverd snorted. “Oh dear, it sounds to me like Emma has fallen head over heels for his grace.”

Emma was curious how her describing the duke as lovely sufficed as having fallen for him but decided it was in her best interest not to comment.

“Has he…” Lily bit her lip. “Has he kissed you, Emma?”

Her sister nudged her hard. Emma didn’t mind the question. Wouldn’t she be just as curious?

“Um, well, that is…I—”

“Now, ladies, that is between the duke and Emma.”

“What exactly is between us?” Sebastian swept into the room and bowed before the ladies. “I do hope you were saying good things, Miss Gates.”

Emma lifted her eyebrow as she took a tentative sip of the sherry in her hand. “Of course.”

Sebastian’s eyes never left her face as he announced, “I hope you don’t mind, ladies, but I was hoping to speak to my betrothed for a moment tonight concerning some minor details of our upcoming nuptials. I’m sure you ladies understand.”

Emma thought she heard a few muffled giggles, but couldn’t be sure since her eyes were fully locked on the temptation Sebastian St. James, Duke of Tempest, brought to her.

Dressed in a tight-fitting dinner jacket, his broad shoulders seemed almost too firm to be real. She was half-tempted to run her hands along the smooth fabric. Hadn’t she earlier today decided to enjoy being with Sebastian as long as it lasted? Or had time run out? Just how much had he overheard?

Before she knew it, Emma was being escorted outside onto one of the south facing balconies. Sebastian had no way of knowing it, but this balcony overlooked the Gates’ estate, and if one looked hard enough, it was possible to see the grounds of her parents’ country house as well as their stables.

A familiar longing fell over Emma as her mind went back to easier days. The time before the incident had been good. Her family had adored her and she was to have her first season, but not have to participate in the marriage fiasco it presented. After all, she already had her match.

And what a match Rawlings had been. If looks were to be the deciding factor, then he had those in spades. But he lacked heart, and the years at University had not been good to him. Each time he had returned to her he’d appeared haggard, tired, and debauched. Oh he had still been tall, dark, and handsome. With piercing blue eyes and brown hair, his looks favored Lord Renwick. One could believe them to be brothers. Yet, over time, Lord Renwick had battled his demons and won, while Rawlings was still entrenched in the fight, or had decided to give up. The permanent scowl or smug grin on his face told everyone within his vicinity that he was much too full of himself to be of any use to anyone. The boyish charm was gone. In its place stood a man who had seen too much in the world and come out the other end damaged, just like her.

Maybe Rawlings was interested. Maybe he viewed himself on the same level as Emma. He was her last everything. Her last dance, her last real chance at marriage and the last person who had fully let her down in life. Even if he was interested, he would be the least appropriate man in the country with whom she would align herself. As much as he tried to play her the fool, too much history had gone on between them. She only hoped Sebastian wasn’t bringing her out here for a history lesson, but wanted to spend time with her.

****

Emma appeared a million miles away. Her face stone as she gazed across the countryside. Sebastian didn’t want to interrupt whatever thoughts were plaguing her, and he would be of no help if he asked her to share.

His original intent had been to find out just how well she knew Rawlings. But looking at her face now, he realized it wasn’t for him to ask, it was for her to share, when she was ready. And this was not the time.

Head down, she let out a sigh then faced him.

“You wanted to speak with me, Sebastian?”

Emma’s eyes were void of emotion. If he didn’t know her, he would think she was merely bored, but he knew. It was pain that filled those normally vibrant eyes, and for some reason, he felt he was behind that aching. He watched with concern as she swallowed and, hands shaking, pushed an escaped piece of hair away from her face. Crossing her arms, she gave him the impression she was trying to hug herself, or protect herself from some sort of emotional turmoil.

Music from the salon drifted out onto the terrace. Someone must have decided dancing would make the party livelier.

“Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand.

Sebastian didn’t think it possible, but Emma’s face seemed to pale even more in the moonlight. She looked toward the doorway then back at him.

“I don’t dance.”

“You did before,” he said skeptically.

“Not really.” Emma turned away from him. “It was impulsive of me to try to dance with you at the first ball we attended together. Forgive me. Now I must take my leave.”

“Emma…” Sebastian tried to stop her, but Emma was already out the door. He knew whatever he had said had rubbed her the wrong way. Confused, he stayed out on the balcony. One minute the girl was ready to take any challenge he set before her, the next she seemed as frightened as a tiny mouse. Her emotions alone were enough to drive any man to drink.

Cursing himself for, yet again, making her uncomfortable and for avoiding the topic of Rawlings, he let himself back in the room, walking slowly to the study where the rest of the men were most likely meeting.

His rotten luck continued as he noticed the only man still sitting by the fire was Rawlings himself. Taking a cheroot from the butler, he lifted his coat tails and sat on the furthest seat away from his sworn enemy.

“Tempest,” Rawlings ground out.

Why did it always have to be so tense? Granted, he despised the man, but couldn't they at least be civil?

“Rawlings, has your night been agreeable?”

The only response given him was a grunt from Rawlings and a motion for another brandy, which Sebastian was immediately jealous of considering he himself felt the need to inebriate his body with spirits after his terse conversation with Emma.

“She was mine once,” Rawlings began.

Devil take him, this was not going well.

“Mine,” Rawlings said.

Sebastian felt the sudden urge to pull out his pistols. Unfortunately he wasn’t carrying any, so he was left with the uncomfortable task of listening to Rawlings, drunk as he was, lament over the loss of some chit.

“Miss Emma Gates, the prettiest girl in the country,” Rawlings continued. “You knew we were one betrothed, did you not?”

The smirk on Rawlings’ face was enough to make Sebastian want to hang him. The man should learn his place.

“Oh, don’t get your feathers all in a ruffle, Tempest. I’m merely making polite conversation. Wouldn’t a healthy competition be good for you, my dear fellow?” He smiled and lifted his cup in a toast. “We knew each other well. And before you get that deuced awful scowl on your face, you should know I don’t mean in the Christian way. We were both too young for that, not that it mattered later on. I can’t even imagine why I am telling you this.”

“Too many spirits?” Sebastian offered.

Rawlings ignored him. “Can’t say that it matters though, she’s ruined now. Can’t believe you even offered for her, what with her reputation. It’s only a matter of time before the ton gets wind of her many sins. Did I say many? I mean one, but it’s not for you to know. Only myself.” Rawlings voice continued to mumble until a loud snore came out.

Sebastian waited in anticipation. What in the blazes was this man talking about? What did Rawlings know that Sebastian didn’t? Unsettled, Sebastian waited for Rawlings to say more. Odd that he would hint at any sort of scandal with Emma. But Rawlings was also drunk. If Emma had any black marks attached to her name, surely Nicholas would have said something. His friend knew how important his reputation was to him. He wouldn’t jeopardize that for someone who was merely related to him by marriage.

Just as he was getting ready to kick Rawlings in the shin and demand an explanation, a second snore came and Rawlings’ glass fell to the floor. What information Rawlings was keeping from him would obviously not be revealed tonight. Not with Rawlings so deep in his cups and Emma as skittish as a church mouse. Reluctantly, Sebastian pushed off the plush chair and took the stairs to his room.

Pure torture engulfed him as he realized just how close Emma’s lush body was to his own. One door was all that separated them. One tiny, flimsy piece of wood and he could see her. What would she be wearing? Would she be sleeping peacefully? Would she be—

Sebastian yelled a string of curses as he stepped into his fire lit room. Emma was sitting in the chair next to the fireplace, twirling her long locks in her fingers. Of all the scandals, this had to be the worst.

“What in the blazes are you doing here?” Unfortunately Sebastian’s body was already aroused after thinking of Emma in her nightgown. Now that he saw her in the flesh, he was ready to throw caution to the wind and take her in the quickest way possible.

“Emma?” he asked again, trying to soothe his arousal.

The minx motioned for him to sit and took a drink of wine she had apparently brought to his room. Lovely, more spirits to dampen his focus.

Emma hadn’t moved from her seat. The lines of her beautiful face were illuminated by the fireplace. Never had there been a better setting for seduction.

On cue, her robe fell off her shoulder, revealing a creamy white expanse of skin just begging to be touched.

Sebastian cursed and looked away. “Emma, by your presence in my room I can only deduce you want to speak with me about something that’s on your mind.” Strain was evident as he spoke every word. It was a chore to act normal when the room was ripe for seduction.

Surely he would be sainted if he survived this.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Emma lick her lips and sigh.

Wine. Where was the wine?

Slowly, methodically, he poured himself a glass then walked to where Emma sat and joined her in the across facing chair. He lifted the red liquid to his lips, closing his eyes as the wine trickled down his throat. Unfortunately it wasn’t high enough in its alcohol content to numb the raging lust he was feeling.

Emma turned to him. “You were going to ask me something tonight.”

“Was I?”

Emma gave a weak smile. “You’re being kind by avoiding the subject, but I’m ready to share some of what has been plaguing me.”

“Emma.” Sebastian set his glass down and leaned in. “It is none of my business. If it pains you, I only wish to know so I can help alleviate the hurt and share the burden. But do not tell me if it will make everything worse for you. I do not desire to be another reason for your pain.”

Splendid speech for only having used half his head. The other half was too busy thinking ungodly things.

Turning her face once more to the fire, she closed her eyes. Had he never seen true beauty before? The shots of red in her hair seemed to glow. It was nothing more than a terrible tease to see only part of her body exposed. It was actually worse than her being unclothed, because at least then he wouldn’t be imagining what the rest of her looked like. But now, his eyes greedily scanned the expanse of skin below her neck. The illusion of her body made him believe in its supple softness.

“Then it’s settled, isn’t it?” Emma pushed away from the chair and approached him.

His throat went dry as his eyes greedily took in her illuminated form. “What’s that?” he inquired, taking another long gulp of wine then setting the goblet on the table next to him. Sebastian folded his hands and leaned forward as she stopped right in front of him.

Waves of heat brought on by her exposure to the hot fire billowed toward him in a combined scent of jasmine and burning wood. Clenching his teeth, he managed a grin.

“Both of us are too stubborn to back down. I can see by the look in your eyes you want to help, but Sebastian, my past with Rawlings is…complicated, to say the least. It wouldn’t bode well for you to get involved. You do have your reputation to think about.”

“My reputation?” he repeated. “Your past has nothing to do with my reputation, and even if it did, my dear girl, you forget, this is all a ruse.” Even as he said it, his body screamed in protest. He wanted Emma, every part of her. It seemed the only person who refused to believe the lie was the one who had created it in the first place.

Emma tilted her head to the side. “A ruse.”

“Exactly.”

“So, my sly fox, you aren’t the least bit interested in what I have to offer?”

“Offer,” Sebastian stuttered then adjusted his cravat. “You are a little minx, aren’t you? What game are you playing at?” Not that he was, by any means, complaining. Her shoulder was still exposed to fresh air giving him the intense desire to reach out and stroke the white skin.

“My services, of course.”

Sebastian lost all ability to speak.

Emma obviously had not. Leaning down, she brushed a kiss across his cheek. A low moan escaped him, embarrassing him to the tips of his ears. What duke allowed himself to be seduced by a mere peck on the cheek?

This one.

Emma bit her deliciously ripe lower lip and winked. “You did ask that I help you pick out a suitable bride, did you not?”

Blast, blast, blast!

He cleared his throat. “Of course, so those would be…the services you are, ahem, referring to, naturally.”

Spoken with the grace of Byron himself.

Disgusted, Sebastian met Emma’s twinkling eyes one last time.

Her face was merely a breath away from his. Licking her lips, she replied, “Your grace, you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” Slowly, she curtsied and bid him goodnight.

As the door shut quietly behind her, he let out the breath he had no idea he’d been holding. Unfortunately a good night was to be impossible, since his mind was already working on all of the activities one could do in the dark. How in the devil was he supposed to sleep with his body still painfully aware that a beautiful woman had just been in his bedroom? Lucky for them the rooms were adjoining, so nobody would know. But what exactly had been her purpose in coming to his rooms so late? If it was to torture him, she did a splendid job, leaving only thoughts of her soft body pressed up against his in his all too vivid imagination.

He knew sleep would not come, so he dedicated the next few hours to exactly what he had come to the house party for. Not for Emma, but for a wife, to bring honor to his family, and finally redemption to himself.

Chapter Seventeen

Emma’s heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest as her feet calmly took her back to her rooms. The last time she had felt this alive, she had been dancing. The memory seemed less painful than before. Maybe taking a chance with Sebastian was what she needed. A fresh start.

It would be possible if Rawlings weren’t so closely involved.

She had made the choice to visit Sebastian’s rooms out of sheer determination. Once she had been excused to her rooms, she sat for at least a half hour contemplating how she was to seduce Sebastian without anyone finding out, especially the object of her seduction. The thing was, she had no idea how to go about it. All she had been promised was this one week, and then, he would be married and the ruse could not, no, would not continue.

Desperation made her enter his room.

Passion made her strong, and determination made her immovable in her decision to experience the joy of being with someone as good as the duke just once in her life.

Naturally, she would have to conduct her decision without the watchful eyes of the gentry pouring into Rawlings’ estate over the next day. Surely it was safe for her to visit Sebastian at night, to talk with him. It was not lost on her how tightly wound she had made him. More than once the man shifted in his seat and over-indulged with the wine.

They affected one another. Yes, it was unfair they could not be together, that her scandal would keep them apart.

But for the week, he was hers.

As she lay her head down on her pillow, she smiled, a real smile, for the first time in years. Dreaming of all the ways she would seduce Sebastian St. James, refusing to remember that after the seduction came loss, and after the loss, a life forever watching the Duke of Tempest being seduced by his wife.

****

Emma awoke the next day refreshed. The men were to go on a hunt while the women had a casual ride and picnic. She donned her smartest looking riding habit. Dark green outlined with heavy black velvet fit her perfectly, albeit considerably tighter than she remembered it. The desired effect would be reached. Although low, it also showed off the generous curve of her hips, something that would peak Sebastian’s interest, she hoped.

As she made her way outside to the stables, Sebastian was waiting for her. A hungry look passed over his face. Almost as soon as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes.

“Ah, my dear, I’ve decided on a mount for you.”

“Have you?” Skeptical, she looked at the horse he held. The midnight black Arabian stomped his hoof and snorted.

“This is Boxer.”

“Does he live up to his name, your grace?”

Sebastian handed her the reigns. “A more talented female rider I’ve never laid eyes on. I’ll let you be the one to make that decision, my lady.” Sebastian bowed over her hand and walked to his own horse. He paused slightly and turned to add, “And, Emma, no racing.”

“Ah, I see you’ve been busy giving away my best horses this morning.” Lord Rawlings trotted up on his own horse, smug grin still in place.

Emma wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face. Given the liberties he had already taken with her, it seemed a natural response for any woman.

“Lord Rawlings.” She curtsied then, without any help, managed to mount her horse and take off in a full gallop.

Emma laughed as the breeze whipped across her face, leaving her dizzy with exhilaration.

Out of nowhere a horse appeared on her left, Lord Rawlings riding atop it. Her first response was to ignore him and push harder, but the fact that he was keeping up with her was impressive. She slowed to a trot. Boxer neighed and kicked before finally pulling to a stop.

“You followed me.” Emma led her horse to a nearby stream.

Rawlings let out a laugh. The same laugh she remembered him using so long ago when they were friends.

“Yes, I thought it would be good to humble you a bit. Seems you’ve pulled that stunt before with the duke?”

Emma bit her lip, refusing to answer, even though a slow smile spread across her face. “In the middle of Hyde Park, to be exact.”

“And did he or did he not give you a sit down about the rules and regulations befitting a lady of your station?” Rawlings joked.

“He did.”

“Ah, he should let you be wild, Emma.”

Rawlings seemed to be purposefully making a point by using her first name. It was not at all proper.

Ignoring his presence behind her, she dismounted and set forth on the impossible task of finding a smooth stone to skip in the river.

“Do you remember when we used to go hunting through the wood over yonder?” Rawlings was standing next to her, looking toward her father’s land.

“Yes.”

“You hated being told to stay behind, always wanting to play with the boys, to race, to hunt…I wonder where that Emma has gone off to? I fervently hope one of these days she will return and start taking chances again.”

Rawlings picked up a smooth stone and threw it in her direction. “My lady,” he said, bowing. Then he mounted his horse and took off in a gallop, leaving Emma more confused than before.

Was he merely being polite or trying to conjure up images of her jaded past in order to gain her allegiance?

It was most likely a question that would not be answered by skipping stones.

Chapter Eighteen

Sebastian waited in vain for an hour, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Emma returning from her dangerous gallop. In that time he came to the decision to finally do right by her and attempt to choose a suitor from among the arriving guests, someone who would be good enough.

Each one seemed to have something wrong with him.

Lord Rayne had a gambling problem.

Viscount Richards was missing several of his teeth.

And each of Lord Ambry’s wives had somehow met their demise while married to him.

It seemed his only hope was the last two men to join. Both were good friends of Rawlings and entirely out of the question, if Sebastian had anything to do with it. But they were the only two left, so he waited patiently for the last two guests to arrive all the while wondering if Rawlings had caught up to Emma in the woods.

Hope came in a tall figure clad with blond hair and brown eyes. Sebastian turned his head in disgust. He was a mere child!

“Lord Smythe, delighted to see you!” Belverd took the man’s hand within his own, shaking it wildly before patting him on the back and turning him toward a curious Sebastian.

“Ah, the Duke of Tempest,” Smythe said.

Stating the obvious was a trifle irritating to someone of Sebastian’s stature. He momentarily thought about punching the poor fellow on principle alone but realized the only reason would be to knock out his remaining good teeth rendering him too unfit for Emma.

Anything was better than the obvious.

Lord Smythe was the only likely candidate. The feeling didn’t settle well with Sebastian one bit, his fingers itched inside his gloves.

“A pleasure,” Sebastian finally said.

Smythe seemed to be amused. “Tell me, good man, is it the spinning of tales that you will be marrying soon? I would be delighted to meet the future duchess’s acquaintance?”

“Right then,” Sebastian said. “I’m terribly sorry, but I believe she’s gone out for a ride, not sure when she’ll be returning.”

“Ah well, later then.” Smythe smiled gaily and accepted a sniffer of brandy from Belverd.

The room fell into an awkward silence that Sebastian lacked the desire to fill. After all, it would benefit him to see how Smythe reacted in such situations. It was impossible for Sebastian to wrap his head around the idea that Emma would soon be married to someone else. Nobody seemed good enough, not even he.

Stunning that he would think of her in that way. Slowly, he took another drink. Did he value her happiness above his own? When had she turned from something akin to horseflesh into a woman he wanted nothing more than to make happy?

Unfortunately, the object of his affection chose that moment to enter the room. All traces of her ride gone, now dressed in a simple white walking gown and pink pelisse. She looked delectable.

“Your grace.” She walked in and stood next to him, taking her place on his arm. His arm, not Smythe’s, or any other man’s for that matter. It was where she belonged, where he finally realized he wanted her.

“How was your ride, Emma?” he asked calmly.

“I only wish you would have joined me, your grace. We have much to discuss with our upcoming nuptials, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Agreed,” he said, noticing a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“Shall we take a walk in the gardens?” he asked, trying to keep the excitement and rush of arousal out of his voice.

“We shall. If you’ll just excuse us, gentlemen.” She curtsied and looked to Sebastian to lead them out of the room. He wanted nothing more than to growl at Smythe as his eyes greedily scanned the expanse of Emma’s chest. A possessiveness he’d never experienced before threatened to explode.

Containing his emotions behind a cool mask of indifference, he led Emma out of the room and prayed to God she wouldn’t tempt him beyond what he could handle.

Chapter Nineteen

Sebastian stole several glances at Emma as they walked arm in arm to the garden on the far side of the estate.

Just as he was about to say something, Emma interjected.

“I do believe I’ve found someone for you, Sebastian.”

“As in, a person who was once lost but now found?” He played dumb, while his chest heaved with each step.

“No.” She stopped and flashed him a brilliant grin. “A woman I think you will take an instant liking to. I was introduced to her on the way in.”

“You were?” His voice was hoarse.

“Oh yes, and she was delightful! And beautiful. I do believe her reputation is outstanding. It would be a brilliant match.”

“Well, then—”

“You should ask her to dance tonight after dinner. I’ve heard there will be music and games.”

Just what sort of ploy was Emma playing? Last night she seemed to be seducing him. This morning she was throwing him at the first available woman she met.

“Right,” he answered. “So it is settled then?”

She smiled warmly. “I wanted to make sure I stayed true to my promise to help you. You did want my help?”

Loaded question.

“Yes. Of course.”

Emma shrugged and walked by him, taking a seat on a nearby bench. Sebastian, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what to do. Her assumptions were completely accurate, yet it frustrated him that she was so eager to throw him into someone else’s arms. And it did sting his pride a bit to think she had no emotional reaction whatsoever to him being married to someone else.

Especially since less than ten minutes ago he was lamenting the fact that she would have to marry someone like Smythe.

“I’ve likewise found someone for you, Emma,” he said, trying to steer the conversation to see if he found opposition where Emma was concerned.

“Have you?” Emma looked surprised and, dare he hope, a tad pale.

He ran with it. “Of course. You’ll be delighted. Maybe we’ll do introductions tonight when we are all together. In fact, it was Mr. Smythe, the man you just saw inside.”

“Perfect.” Emma looked anything but pleased.

“Right.” Sebastian smiled. “Shall we?” He offered his arm and stifled a chuckle. Maybe the girl was just as affected.

****

Talk about a plan backfiring, thought Emma as Sebastian led her back into the house. If anything, it just made her feel all the more nervous.

Her only purpose was to gauge his reaction, to see if he would be excited about her matchmaking or upset. Instead he had turned the tables on her, making her more uncertain of his feelings. It would be easier if the man would at least show some sort of emotion. But the minute she saw anything close to attraction, he would turn away and change the subject. Her only hope was making him uncomfortable, being spontaneous, which wasn’t hard for a girl like her.

Maybe Rawlings had been correct in his assumption. Granted, his idea of her was somewhat tainted. She did used to be wild, couldn’t have cared less what people thought about her. And at this point in her life, she still didn’t mind if others thought her reckless. The only thing she cared about was Sebastian and being able to be with him just once before she said goodbye forever.

Emma was a pile of nerves by the time dinner was finished. Sebastian had stayed true to his promise of introducing her to Lord Smythe, whom she not only found extremely boring but awkward in conversation. Admittedly, he was attractive, but there was no spark, she didn’t swoon, nor did her knees feel week like they did when she was in the presence of Sebastian.

The guests were led into one of the larger rooms to play parlor games. Emma was never one to appreciate such activities , especially when the whole idea behind said games was to engage in gossip—the best gossip most likely being about her.

Rawlings entered the room and gave Emma a brief nod before walking over to Belverd. Emma still couldn’t figure out if the man was honest in his intentions toward her. Did he truly desire for her to be wild and free, or was his main purpose to skew her mind into thinking that and then expose her secrets? Rawlings had never possessed a mean bone in his body. But desperation made people do things that were out of character, and something in his eyes gave hesitation to Emma. He was desperate. She just didn’t know the reasons behind it.

Needing an escape, her eyes darted around the room until they settled on Lady Kentsworth, who was hanging on to Sebastian’s arm tighter than Emma would have liked. Steeling herself for what she had to do, she slowly walked over to where Lady Kentsworth stood with her mother and reluctantly introduced them. Was it blasphemous to pray that he wouldn’t see her for the attractive and kind woman she was? Emma hoped not, because that was exactly what she was doing. She would have gotten to her knees had she not made a scene over the whole ordeal.

Lady Kentsworth turned to face them all dimples and smiles, making Emma curse herself once more for her brilliant plan. What had she hoped to accomplish? Make him jealous, yes, but literally push him into the arms of his future bride? Not likely.

“May I introduce Lady Kentsworth,” Emma said, when in her mind she was contemplating ways she could trip the poor dear without anyone pointing a finger in her direction.

To Sebastian’s credit, her merely bowed over her kid gloves and offered a brief smile. Like any woman would, Emma stared at Sebastian, trying to read what his expression meant. Was he amused? Attracted?

“Emma,” he said.

“Yes?” She jumped back, not realizing her eyes had been trained on his lips for quite some time.

Lovely.

“We’re to be partners.” His eyebrow lifted, making him appear mischievous and more attractive.

Curse those wretched eyebrows, and dimples, and…

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re to go on a scavenger hunt.”

“Right,” she said, cemented in place.

“The women are supposed to grab the pieces of paper with the directions. Once you find the first hidden area, you are allowed to open the second piece.”

Emma flashed him a smile then went and gathered the pieces, nearly falling on her face in the process as her dress somehow managed to gather under her foot.

“All right?” Sebastian asked, grabbing at her elbow. “You don’t seem like yourself, and you’re flushed. You’re not getting ill, are you?”

No, just overheated by your touch, thank you.

“It is a bit warm in here. The scavenger hunt is to take place outside, correct?”

Sebastian nodded his head. “In the dark. It’s Rawlings’ idea of a romantic escapade, although I’m not sure I quite agree with him. I bet by the end of the game we’ll have at least three women with twisted ankles.”

Just then Rawlings cleared his throat. “I understand it is a trifle dark outside, so the scavenger hunt will be postponed. But I do have a delightful game to take its place. Gather round. We shall play blind man’s bluff!”

Squeals of delight and gasps were heard throughout the room. Emma kept quiet, but in all reality wanted to throw something at Rawlings’ head.

Blind man’s bluff was not a game for young innocents, and was surely not the best game for Emma, given her current state of mind.

With her luck, the minute Sebastian stepped in front of her, she would maul him and cause every female in the room to swoon, or worse, have an apoplexy.

One by one, the ladies approached Rawlings and wrote out their names as well as their partners across the little pieces of paper before returning to their seats.

Emma hoped he wouldn’t notice her nervousness as she left Sebastian’s side to gain participation. The last thing she wanted was for Rawlings to make a scene or to finally decide that it was in his best interest to share Emma’s secret with the world.

Finally reaching Rawlings, she stretched out her hand waiting for him to drop the tiny pieces of paper into it. His fingers barely touched the palm of her hand, but the light caress was purposeful, making her wonder yet again about his intentions.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to play, Emma.”

His eyes pierced hers. A small shiver ran down her spine. She hadn’t remembered him being so…primitive. One thing was for sure, the same boy she had grown up with and chased through the apple orchards was now a grown man.

A man she realized she would never be able to trust.

“Kindly write down you and your partner’s names before we begin.” Rawlings grinned as she scribbled the names and threw the papers back into the hat.

“What did he want?” Sebastian said angrily when she reached him. “Did he say something to you? You looked uncomfortable. Emma if he was forward with you I’ll—”

“He was merely giving instructions.” Emma cut off Sebastian’s worry but inwardly smiled at his obvious display of jealousy.

Rawlings went to the center of the room and cleared his throat. “I shall pull a name out of the hat. The first participant will sit in the chair here and be blindfolded, one by one you must march in front of he or she, giving the blind man or woman adequate time to feel and make a guess, are we all clear?”

Obnoxious giggles answered him, making Emma groan. Sebastian tapped her lightly on the side and shook his head in amusement.

“Miss Emma Gates,” Rawlings drawled from the center of the room. “Your name has been chosen. Please take your seat.”

Emma’s teeth clenched. With the stress she was under during this house party, it wouldn’t surprise her if she was grinding those same teeth every single night. How could a woman stand being so close to Sebastian at night and manage to sleep?

It was near impossible.

Emma took her seat and cast a nervous glance at Sebastian. His reassuring wink set her heart a flutter all over again.

Goodness gracious, she wasn’t some green girl on her first carriage ride. Why did it feel that way every time he looked at her?

Rawlings stood in front of her. “Ready?”

She nodded and froze as she felt his long warm fingers wrap around her head, tying the blindfold in place. And then his hot breath was on her ear.

“Remember, Emma. No peeking.”

Would it be terribly rude to kick him in the shin?

Biting back a retort, she merely said, “Of course.”

And waited.

Muffled voices and shoes scraping the floor were the only hints she was given that the men had been chosen, for wasn’t that how these games worked? If a woman was sitting in the chair, she had to touch a man and vice versa.

Scandalous, to say the least.

“You may begin,” came Rawlings’ voice.

Emma reached out and felt a hand, it was limp and not at all the masculine hand she expected it to be. There was no familiarity in the touch. It had to be someone she was not familiar with, unfortunately the only man she could think of was Lord Smythe, so she guessed it.

“Blast! How’d you know?” Lord Smythe commented in front of her.

“You have a delightful handshake. It was quite memorable for me,” Emma lied, hoping the warmth on her face wasn’t a telling blush to her fib.

“Well done!” Smythe cheered.

Another hand was given to her. It was warm, it felt—beautiful. Though she couldn’t figure out why or how a man’s hand could feel beautiful, it just did.

Its warmth reached into her soul, nearly pulling her heart out with it, and all this by a single touch.

They were hands that had possessively covered hers before.

“The Duke of Tempest,” she announced.

“Correct,” Sebastian said, and then his lips kissed her hand. The moment was fleeting, but Emma felt she would swoon straight off her chair at any minute.

And then before she had time to analyze the feel of Sebastian’s lips on her skin, another hand was thrust into hers.

It too was warm, inviting…and large.

Fear spread like a disease through her body, threatening to choke her. Why did these hands feel so familiar? And why was such a terrible feeling associated with the innocent touch of another person?

In the end, fear won out. She guessed Lord Rawlings in order to push the game along.

“Oh, how delightful!” someone squealed. “She guessed all three correct!”

Emma’s stomach sank to her knees.

Chapter Twenty

Sebastian briefly contemplated slamming his head against the mantel on the fireplace. Yes, surely that would rid him of the rage he currently felt at Emma’s familiarity with Rawlings hands. Logic told him that she had also recognized Smythe’s hands, but his jealousy blinded him to that fact.

The blighter.

And then the man’d had the audacity to look him in the eye and smirk all the while beautiful Emma held his hand.

He knew what he wanted to do with Rawlings’ dirty hands. It involved chopping them into little bits and feeding them to the birds outside.

Fighting to keep himself in check, he gave a curt nod to Rawlings as the blindfold was removed from Emma and placed on the next participant.

At the moment, he should be feeling pride that she had recognized him so quickly, but it was snuffed out the minute her lovely voice said Rawlings’ name.

Just what was their history and why was Emma being so secretive about it? Rawlings, drunk sod that he was, hadn’t been able to shed any light on the situation either.

Which made Sebastian curious.

He decided to send a letter to Renwick House asking about the relationship between the two. If anyone knew of her past it would be Sara, and the more he thought about Rawlings’ little confession, the more he suspected Nicholas had no idea of Emma’s past any more than he did.

They were only a day’s ride out of London, surely he would hear back from Sara by the ending of the house party.

At least the worse was over. Emma’s turn was finished. They merely needed to survive the dancing, which would surely follow into the evening, and then Sebastian could adequately devise a plan to steal young Emma’s heart, all the while convincing his grandmother that a woman who is figuratively on the shelf would make the perfect duchess.

Sebastian smiled to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure how in the span of a few days he had decided to try to win over Emma. Maybe it was Rawlings’ attitude toward her that finally pushed him over the edge, or maybe it was the way she knew his touch, or that he couldn’t handle watching any other man lay a finger on her without wanting to commit some sort of crime.

The way he figured it, if he didn’t marry her, she would be someone else’s. And in his heart, his mind, he wanted her to belong to him and only him. Why did it matter if she was a bit too outspoken and adventuresome? She was a beautiful woman, full of life.

Yes, he would admit she had a wild streak, but no scandal he knew of attached itself to her name. All in all, she would be perfect, somewhat amiable, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

If all went well, by the end of the house party he would be announcing their wedding date, knowing full well it was real.

****

The dancing started soon after the game ended. Emma hadn’t said much since her return from her room, but something did seem to be bothering her. Sebastian tried witty banter and even offered to throw food at guests. That at least earned him a smile, but something was definitely wrong.

“May I have this dance?” Rawlings appeared out of nowhere like most rakes and degenerates and grabbed Emma’s hand before Sebastian could protest.

“I, uh…” Emma looked to him for help.

Just as he was getting ready to tell Rawlings exactly where he could go, the man spoke again.

“Miss Gates, we have danced before, have we not? Do you not recall the time in your father’s study when I taught you the quadrille?”

Sebastian clenched his fists as he fought the urge to pummel the man he used to call friend.

“Yes.” Emma’s eyes suddenly lit with fire as she accepted the man’s hand and boldly stepped onto the dance floor, never once looking back at Sebastian or anyone else.

The waltz, not the quadrille as Sebastian had assumed, began playing. Rawlings bowed, Emma curtsied, and then, they were off.

The entire room seemed to still as Rawlings and Emma danced. It was the most captivating thing Sebastian had ever seen.

She had practically ran away from him when he had offered to dance with her in London. Yet today she freely went into the enemy’s arms, not only accepting his offer but dancing in such a way it made Sebastian’s heart ache.

Her laughter teased his senses. Uninhibited it flowed freely around his ears. Rawlings hands continued to lower and pull Emma closer to his person. The only reason Sebastian did not interfere was because Emma didn’t deserve the embarrassment. He was also opposed to scandal, so he stayed firmly put as she danced in another man’s arms. And while another man, his enemy to be precise, freely held her firmly within his grasp.

Briefly Rawlings made eye contact and winked.

Emma was surely dancing with the devil.

The longest dance of Sebastian’s life finally ended and Emma was returned. Positively invigorated, or so it seemed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant. It was as if a part of her had just awoke, and Sebastian hated Rawlings for being the cause.

****

Watching and waiting was all he was good for. The sound of Emma’s laughter made him clench his fists against his gloves.

She was his.

Plain and simple.

His plan was taking longer than necessary, but that was of no consequence. What was important was that the pawns he used continued to play their parts, oblivious to the idea forming in his mind.

A plan to make her his regardless of the cost. Yes, he had discovered long ago he would manipulate to have her, steal to keep her, and kill all those who crossed him.

Patience was not his strong suit, but for Emma he would be tolerant. Besides, once the house party was finished, it would be over with, and after all these years, she would finally be his.

****

“You dance lovely.” The fact Sebastian was able to say the entire sentence without threatening some sort of death or bodily harm to her dance partner was somewhat extraordinary.

And then all at once he felt like jumping in front of a moving carriage. Emma’s face fell. The brilliant sparkle was gone and in its place all that was left was pain.

“Emma?”

She flashed him a smile and patted him on the arm, but he could tell she worked a little too hard to look excited.

The dancing soon ended. Sebastian never offered for her hand, partially because he didn’t want to upset her. His pride was the other reason. He wasn’t sure he could take the hit of her choosing Rawlings as a dance partner over him.

“I think I shall retire,” Emma announced.

“Would you like me to escort you to your room?” he asked, but she was shaking her head and pulling away from him, from the ballroom, from everything.

Why did he feel suddenly ill? That something was amiss?

****

Emma lied, she had to. There was no other reason for her behavior. She had wanted to prove to Rawlings so badly that she was the same girl, but in all honesty, she desperately needed to show it to herself.

To prove her sins of the past had not broken her spirit.

But the sad truth was, they had.

Her parents’ rejection as well as Rawlings’ abandonment had formed her into the woman she was today.

Again, she resolved to try harder to seduce Sebastian so she could at least once know what it was like.

Her thoughts and lamenting as she left Sebastian standing in the ballroom did nothing to fight off the sickening feeling of being in Rawlings’ arms. Something too familiar, a piece of her she had long forgotten still resided in those arms.

It was painful and it brought fear like she had never known into her life. The chance of discovery and horror of rejection was again her reality. For if Sebastian found out her secret she would have no one. No prospects.

It was risky, denying all the bachelors at the house party.

But all she wanted was him. It would be the death of her.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to go to bed. She wanted to think, she wanted to race, to let her hair flow free in the wind. Looking from left to right she slipped past the ballroom going in the opposite direction of her bedroom and nearly fainted with nervousness. She hadn’t even changed into a riding habit, meaning her legs would surely be exposed when she jumped onto Boxer. Then again it was dark and nobody was following her.

Slipping past the groom proved easy, considering he was absolutely foxed and snoring in the corner. Quickly, she saddled Boxer and fed him some oats before jumping onto his back. He neighed as if sensing her need for release and then she heard a throat clear.

“Just what do you think you are doing, Emma?” Sebastian’s face was more charmed than irritated. And then his eyes scanned her exposed calves and she could have fainted on the spot.

His eyes widened as he shot her a disapproving look.

“Get off that horse this instant, Emma. I will not allow you to gallop around like some…hoyden!”

“Allow me?” Emma challenged as she led Boxer next to him. “You won’t allow me? Well, thank God we aren’t truly engaged. I would hate to be in a relationship where a man had to allow me to do anything.”

Furious, she kicked at Boxer and galloped off to the sound of Sebastian cursing her in every language possible.

Within minutes she was free of the house and moving quickly into the forest. Laughter bubbled out of her despite her irritation at Sebastian’s controlling manner. She told herself he was merely trying to protect her, but of all the things to say, did he have to demand she not ride?

Halting, she let out a sigh and then nearly fell off the horse as a sound behind her caused her to jump. Turning, she saw Sebastian’s form on another one of the horses, approaching her at a breakneck pace.

“Blast,” she cursed, then set Boxer off into a straight run through the trees, which wasn’t at all safe, she realized, as Sebastian had to continually fall behind lest he and his beautiful horse run into a tree.

“Stop this instant!” he yelled, and for some reason it made her laugh.

“Emma! This is insane!”

She didn’t see the tree in time. She pulled on the reigns making Boxer rear, sending her flying to the ground.

The only thing that seemed to be wounded was her pride and her backside, not that she could check for damages considering her skirts had flown over her head. Maybe this was why women wore special clothes for riding.

“Emma? Can you hear me? Are you alright?” Sebastian was immediately on his knees by her side frantically pulling at her skirts to examine her face.

Emma watched wide-eyed as Sebastian moved his warm hands slowly up the expanse of her exposed calves. It was her fault she was in this predicament. Foolish of her to think she wouldn’t somehow fall off her horse and embarrass herself after challenging him then taking off in a blasted gallop.

Her skirts flung over her so fast it was impossible to cover up what was now exposed for the world, or maybe just Sebastian, to see. Unfortunately, now she was drugged, actually entranced as his wicked smile caused her stomach to clench with anticipation. Now that she knew what a man’s hands felt like on her legs, she wasn’t sure she would ever be the same.

His eyes locked with hers.

She was lost.

“Are you hurt?” He continued rubbing her legs, probably feeling for broken bones. Curse him for making her shiver.

“You’re cold,” he stated as he pulled her into his embrace and continued moving his hands down her arms looking for bruises.

Emma gulped when they touched her face. Almost like a whisper. “I’m fine I assure you.” Managing a weak smile she tried to pull back.

He held her in place.

“You don’t have to be strong, you know,” Sebastian said.

Oh, how untrue that statement was. “But I do.” She hadn’t meant for it to be a time of confession. If this man truly knew the reasons behind her strength, he would surely push her away.

Pulling her to her feet he managed a small curse as her knobby knees caused her to stumble into his chest. Again. Why did he have to be a duke? And why oh why did he have to be so blasted alluring?

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes rested on his lips.

“I’m not,” he said, dragging her head toward his lips. The softness of his touch paralyzed her and possessed her all at once. The simplicity of the kiss both stunned and aroused her.

“Seb…” She tried in vain to say something—anything to free herself from his grasp, even though it was the last thing she wanted. It was in his best interest not to associate with her. But how she wanted him.

He pulled back long enough to look behind her, then grinning wolfishly, descended again with a blurry haze of passion, alternating between biting her lips and stealing the breath straight out of her lungs. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, begging entry. She gave in and hoped her sanity would stay in tact, though her brain was quickly turning to fuzz.

Sebastian groaned as his tongue tangled with hers. What on earth was she doing? Part of her wanted to escape, the other wanted to throw caution to the wind and melt into him.

As her body treacherously thought of ways she could mold herself to his person, his lips left hers and began biting swiftly down the curve of her neck until she thought she might go absolutely mad.

Who knew biting could be so erotic?

Only Sebastian St. James, the “good” duke who had his fair share of wicked intent this dark night.

****

Possession. Plain and simple. He needed her more than he needed air. Pure torture enflamed him when he saw the creamy white legs peeking out from Emma’s upturned skirt. First he was horrified and angry that she had challenged him, and then panic stricken because she had fallen off her horse. Blast him for his good intentions. All he wanted to do was help and then…well he had touched her.

All was lost in that moment.

He was known for having a sound mind and body.

It was not a proud moment for the Duke of Tempest. The second he finally gave in to the temptation he had been so desperately trying to ignore for the past week.

He clung to her body like she was his lifeline and prayed to God she wouldn’t push him away.

Her soft moan only fanned the flames as his hands pulled her hair free so it draped her smooth shoulders. He cursed silently to himself. She was perfect.

Emma arched her body toward his, and he took full advantage of the opportunity and brushed his lips across the upward curve of her breasts. Slowly, methodically he leaned her against the side of the hill and edged his hands up her legs.

Not able to take it anymore, he stole another glance as he caressed behind her knees. Never had a woman’s legs looked so good. Ever.

Groaning, he only released his hold on her because he wasn’t sure what he wanted more. To kiss the girl senseless or utterly ruin her for anyone else.

A primitive possession took hold, making him furious just thinking about another man touching her. And to think, he was supposed to be setting her up with someone else during this house party.

Never would another man have her. He was still furious at Rawlings for even suggesting marriage, let alone embarrassing her as he had that night at dinner.

Mine, mine, mine.

A horse neighed in the distance. He pushed her away out of sheer habit and finally got a good look at her face. Emma’s long hair mussed around her cheeks, giving her the look of a goddess. It didn’t help that her lips were good and swollen from being so passionately kissed.

I did that, he thought smugly as he reached out to touch her cheek.

Chapter Twenty-one

Emma righted her skirts and took Sebastian’s offered hand. Words weren’t needed. Cursing herself for being caught up in the moment, she blushed when Sebastian put his arms around her waist and lifted her to her horse.

If his kiss told her anything, it was that he felt the same way she did. Confused, she wasn’t sure what it meant. Did that mean he wanted to marry her? Or was he merely attracted to her?

Doubt began to creep in, and then Sebastian’s horse joined hers.

“Think you can manage to race back without being caught? We don’t want to cause any scandal, do we?” He grinned, looking only at her lips.

“Course not,” she answered, then urged her horse into another gallop.

He soon followed only stopping at the stables. “We’ll have to sneak back in the manor.”

Emma laughed. “The angel duke knows how to sneak, does he?”

Gripping her by the waist, Sebastian pulled her into his arms and rained kisses down her neck. “I know how to do many things, Emma. Would you like to see?”

Thankful that he couldn’t see her blush, Emma pushed him away. “Cad. Now help me get back in the house before you soil your spotless reputation.”

****

Emma giggled to herself as she readied for the final ball of the house party. It had been two days since the duke’s unwelcome intrusion into her marriage plans. His kiss had caused a stir inside her soul she had long forgotten. Now she found it impossible not to smile. She hadn’t needed to seduce the duke at all. She was drunk from his touch, desperately needing more and more of him until she thought she might die inside.

They hadn’t discussed the first kiss or the second. He had only led her back to the house, tucked her into bed, and threatened her within an inch of her life to never run away from him again.

A promise she was sure she could keep.

She had been ruined.

By him.

For all other men.

He didn’t yet know the truth. The guilt was eating away at her, but he hadn’t spoken his intentions either. She told herself she would explain everything once she knew he would be hers. Until then, she would dream of his kisses.

“Emma?” A knock came at the door. Sebastian entered looking so deliciously handsome she had to hold on to her own hands lest she lunge for him and throw him onto the bed.

Apparently she was a wanton woman after only a few kisses.

She was the wild woman Rawlings said she was, only in an entirely different way than she remembered.

“Beautiful,” Sebastian said, approaching her. He kept his hands behind his back, and a guilty grin crossed his features.

“What’s behind your back?” Breathless, she tried to take a peak, but he gave her a stern look and told her to close her eyes.

She did. Within seconds she felt something cold wrap around her neck. It was heavy and most likely expensive.

“Open them,” he said softly behind her.

Sebastian was standing poised in the doorway, watching intently in the mirror as she touched the beautiful ruby necklace he had placed on her neck.

“But it’s…too expensive. It’s…”

“Of course. Would the future Duchess of Tempest wear anything less than perfect?”

Emma’s heart soared. Was he proposing?

“After all, appearances are everything. We have to make sure everyone believes we are truly in love.”

Words would not come. The room started to spin. Emma leaned on Sebastian for support. “Yes, yes of course. You are correct.”

Sebastian said nothing. He merely scrutinized her as if she was a prize piece of horseflesh. Had their kisses and stolen moments days before meant nothing? Was he just being a rake of the first order? Stealing a kiss at the opportune moment? Emma mentally replayed all the times they had been together, getting sicker by the minute. Sebastian had done nothing except play the part. Yes he had kissed her and acted jealous at times, but he was still a man.

A man whose heart she regrettably realized she did not have.

“Shall we?” Sebastian offered his arm.

Blindingly, Emma reached for it and prayed she would survive the last night at the house party. It finally became clear to her. She was in love with a man who would never love her back. A man who truly was using her for his own purpose. Granted she had agreed to his adventurous little jaunt, but never did it cross her mind that she did not affect him the same way he had her.

****

He had to be sure. He needed to be sure she felt the same way about him. Yes, maybe what he had done was cruel, but he needed to know it wasn’t just temporary insanity. He wanted Emma to lust for him, to desire him as a man. The stolen kisses had nearly undone him, but what he needed more than that was possession of the woman behind them. A wild woman who would never be tamed, who held secrets he longed to discover. He wanted her.

Never claiming to be the slyest of foxes, he did the only thing he could come up with on his own, sans Nicholas. He used the necklace to gauge her feelings, to see if she would become jealous or sad.

And it worked. Brilliantly. Granted, her heart was probably clenching, imagine her surprise when later tonight he proposed to her. This time it would be real. He had sent for the ring earlier that the morning. He had also sent notice to Nicholas and Sara as well as his grandmother. All of whom would be in attendance tonight. The night he would claim Emma forever.

Nothing would stop him.

Not even the tiny note in his room explaining Emma’s past. Sara had tried to be delicate, saying as little as possible. From what he could deduce, Emma had suffered some sort of tragedy

Sebastian wanted to be the one to help her heal from it. And he would be. “Love,” he said into her hair. “I invited Nicholas and Sara. Do go say hello while I get refreshments.”

Emma nodded and walked in their direction.

Her face was unreadable. It killed him to know he was the reason for her indifference, but soon she would be just as happy as he.

Chapter Twenty-two

Legs like lead, Emma walked slowly through the brush to where Nicholas and Sara stood. Both of them wearing stupid grins on their faces. Emma felt numb, as if her nerves had finally given up on her and ceased to work.

Sara was all smiles. Nicholas was brooding as usual. Her mood fit more with Nicholas’s than Sara’s at the moment.

“Was the house party to your liking?” Sara pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Of course,” Emma answered politely then looked to Nicholas for help. He seemed to be the type of fellow who could read emotions better than those around him.

His eyes squinted in her direction but he said nothing. Instead a scowl appeared on his face as she felt someone approach.

“Nicholas, how good to see you, and dear Sara, lovelier than ever?”

Rawlings had his hand across Emma’s back. She wanted to squirm away from his touch but felt immobilized. In fact she wasn’t sure she could feel anything but numbness. Her heart was like stone. Just when she was ready to open up to the possibility of Sebastian, thinking he might feel something for her, rejection had reared its ugly head yet again.

Rawlings leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I will always love you, dear Emma. Remember my offer when Tempest lets you down. Remember he hasn’t a care for you, only his own reputation is at stake.”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “I have need for a walk around the rooms. Would you care to join me, Emma?”

God be praised.

Starving for anything solid to lean on, Emma took his arm and bid goodbye to Sara, who was already chatting up Belverd and his wife while promptly ignoring Rawlings.

One by one her feet remembered they were walking. Yet she couldn’t feel them. She felt nothing. Nothing but the stabbing pain in her heart at the look on Sebastian’s face when he’d placed the necklace around her neck.

A choking sensation took over as she grasped desperately for the necklace with one hand while still holding onto Nicholas.

“Emma. What’s wrong?” Nicholas pulled her behind one of the plants decorating the ballroom.

She continued to pull at the necklace desperate for air.

“Stop, Emma! Stop!” Nicholas grabbed her clenched hands. “What has happened to you? Who has bothered you? Is it Rawlings? I’ll kill him.” His eyes darted around, looking for the man in question.

“If only it were him.” Emma’s voice was weak and shaky. “No, Rawlings might be a little forward, but he’s harmless.”

“What has you so upset?”

Dare she tell him? Sebastian and he were best friends. “Maybe I’m just tired.” The lie came easily and swiftly out of her lips.

Nicholas glanced away from her toward the swarms of people dancing. “I understand. Take a few moments and gather yourself then join the others. This is the last ball of the house party and then you are free to return to London.”

To nothing.

Nodding, she watched him walk back into the mass of people. A headache like none she’d ever experienced grew at the side of her temples, threatening to split her head in half. She was only a small distance away from everyone yet it felt like an eternity. Everywhere she looked people smiled and laughed. Wishing someone, anyone could understand, she felt her eyes well up with tears. Hadn’t she brought this on herself? To think that she, Emma Gates, with the soiled reputation she had, could not only seduce a duke, but also get him to fall in love with her?

A hand reached out to touch her. Without thought she grabbed at it and turned. Directly in front of her was Rawlings. His head touched hers. He bent and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. She was slightly hidden but not enough that people wouldn’t see how close he was to meeting her lips for a stolen kiss.

“Emma…” he moaned, then with a primitive growl, he pushed her against the wall opposite the ballroom and took his fill of her lips.

It was wrong, so horribly wrong. She shoved his chest as much as she could, but he was too strong for her.

“What in the—” Sebastian was suddenly upon Rawlings, throwing him off Emma with such force even she felt frightened. “What in the blazes is wrong with you, Rawlings? Taking advantage of my future wife?”

The words stung, even though Sebastian’s jealousy was evident, it wasn’t enough to keep him.

Rawlings smirked and wiped his mouth. “Don’t like me chomping at your leftovers, Sebastian?”

“Phillip, I swear, I’ll tear you from limb to limb if you ever touch her again. She isn’t yours to kiss.”

Rawlings snorted. “And you believe you have that right? You aren’t even betrothed. It’s a fake! You’re using her for your own personal gain, and I will not have it!”

The music stopped. Emma felt her face flush as people began whispering. If she hadn’t been ruined so many years ago, or the minute Sebastian kissed her in front of the ton, then surely she was ruined this instant. She would count herself lucky if one of her older suitors with gout would have her now.

Knowingly used by a duke, kissed by that same duke, all the while blatantly aware they would not be married.

Any hope of redeeming herself was lost.

Panicking and selflessly trying to keep Sebastian’s reputation as spotless as possible, she intervened. “Sebastian, let’s leave. He’s obviously foxed.”

“Foxed?” Rawlings laughed. “No, not foxed. Although I’d rather be foxed than have to fight this piece of scum for you, dear sweet Emma. After all, weren’t you mine first?”

“That’s it!” Sebastian tackled him to the floor.

Shrieking, Emma ran to get Nicholas. Someone had to keep the men from killing one another. As she turned the corner, she ran into a hard body.

“Excuse me, sir.” She pushed past him but was stopped by his grip on her writs.

“Sir?” No response came from the figure as she lifted her eyes to his, and then, everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-three

Sebastian was half-tempted to kill the man. Blood poured from a cut over his eye, but Rawlings continued to fight back. They rolled across the floor until Sebastian was on top of Rawlings throwing punches across his face.

A muscled body wrapped around the back of Sebastian and pulled him off the poor sod. He tried to attack once again, but he was firmly in the grasp of the person behind him.

“Stop at once! Have you no care for your reputation?” Nicholas growled.

For once in his life, Sebastian hadn’t a care for anything but his future wife’s honor. How dare this man touch her!

“It matters not. One way or another, I will kill him,” he swore.

Rawlings was still on the floor, head in his hands. “Are you bloody insane? I merely kissed her. You aren’t even engaged. It’s all a farce! What is wrong with you?” He continued to curse as blood poured from the cut above his eye as well as his nose. “Blast, if you were truly attached to her, I would have kept to myself.”

Sebastian had no words. What Rawlings said was entirely accurate, how was he to explain he’d had a change of heart? That he was, in fact, desperately and irrevocably in love with Emma Gates?

Pushing away from Nicholas, he gathered his footing. “Phillip…” His hand was outstretched to pull his old friend up.

Reluctantly, he grasped at it and stood albeit shakily on two feet. “You idiot, you could have killed me,” Rawlings muttered.

Foolishly Sebastian grasped at the only truth he knew. “I thought you were still interested. You were affianced at one time, and you can’t tell me you weren’t trying to compromise her.”

Rawlings laughed. “At the tender age of five, yes. And then again before her come out. I was a complete dolt and trying to make amends. What I put her through, what I did to Emma was unforgiveable.”

The music continued as the men went to the far end of the ballroom toward Rawlings’ study. “I loved her, or I thought I did, you idiot,” he spat out, directing all his rage at Sebastian. “She’s been used before. Granted, I’m not totally innocent. Her dowry does pose a perfect solution to my problems, but at least I would try to love her, whereas you would destroy her.”

Sebastian winced. His face suddenly flushed as he realized how things must have looked to Rawlings, though he still hated him, he understood.

“Absolute scandal for the righteous Duke of Tempest, don’t you think?” Rawlings muttered.

“Well then,” Nicholas announced. “Shall we find Emma and let her know you both are still breathing?”

Much was still left to be said.

Rawlings made eye contact with Sebastian. “Later,” he said, before leaving the outskirts of the room.

Sebastian waited while Nicholas shook his head and finally in a fit of rage smashed his fist into the nearby table. “Want to tell me just what’s gotten into you, Seb? One minute you’re lying and using my cousin by marriage in the lie, which I will add I had a part in only because I saw the attraction between you two. But now I hear she doesn’t even know you want to marry her? You haven’t made your intentions clear? Is that not what tonight was all about?”

“It seems I’ve made a cake of myself,” Sebastian admitted.

“I’ll say,” Nicholas muttered alongside him.

“Do you have an idea where my future bride has run off to?”

Nicholas stopped walking. “I don’t agree with how you’ve handled things. Emma was nearly in tears when I talked with her.”

Guilt punched Sebastian hard in the gut. “She’ll know soon enough. Can you not understand I had to be certain of her feelings?”

Nicholas avoided eye contact. “Sure of her feelings or sure of yours, old friend?”

Sebastian didn’t know how to answer.

“Life has been anything but easy for Emma.”

“Yes, yes. I know all about it. Sara wrote to me of some sort of tragedy Emma went through in her earlier years. What happened? Did her horse die? Did some reckless boy poke fun at her when she challenged him to a race?”

“The full story was never mine to hear, but I would suggest you talk with Emma before the night’s end. I can’t be sure, but I do believe it has something to do with her not marrying until now.”

“I’ll discuss it with her immediately.”

Just then Sara flew around the corner. “Nicholas, have you seen Emma? I could have sworn I saw her walk over here.”

A prickly sense of fear settled over Sebastian. “Sara, you must be mistaken. Just minutes ago she was running toward the far end of the ballroom. We had a disagreement, Rawlings and I.”

“Disagreement,” Rawlings snorted as he approached them. “Sara, how can I be of service?”

Sara bit her lip and looked between all three men. “Something’s amiss. I know for certain she didn’t return to the ballroom.”

“She must have gone outside for air. She was upset when she left.”

“Of course.” Sara smiled tightly. “That explains it.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Emma awoke with a headache. With her hands tied behind her back and a gag firmly placed in her mouth, she had no choice but to continue to pretend she was still knocked out.

The smell in the air reeked of brandy and dirt.

“Drive,” the familiar voice said.

“But, sir, the horses…You cannot possibly run them through the night, they need rest, water, to be shod—”

“Don’t tell me what to do, we ride until we reach Gretna Green, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Emma couldn’t help the moan that escaped even though it was quiet.

“Ah, my sweet, have you awoken?”

It was an absolute nightmare. Why did that voice chill her to the bone? Most of all, her mind wondered why a complete stranger was kidnapping her.

And then he pulled the blindfold off.

And everything came rushing back to her full force.

The man looking back at her was John Crawford, Lord Rawlings’ half brother. Before, when he had been cleaned up for the ball, he had looked dashing.

Currently he wore no cravat, his shirt was opened, revealing dirty skin, and he smelled terrible. Yet the figure in front of her was more familiar than the one she had seen at the ball that day.

“Do you remember me now?” He forcefully put his hands on her body. Fighting, she turned from left to right until she thought she would flop straight out of her seat.

“Or maybe I shall do this.” Jeering, he pulled at the top of her dress.

And then she knew exactly what her mind had forced her to forget. The man sitting across from her was not just Rawlings' half brother. No, he was also the man who had ruined her life so many years ago.

The man who had almost raped her.

And he had returned to finish the job.

****

“Where is she?” Sebastian, the joyful and always calm Sebastian, felt like killing someone.

Rawlings entered the room empty-handed, a look of dread on his face. “We’ve searched everywhere. I don’t know where else to look. Perhaps she’s returned home.”

“Without her clothes? Or notifying anyone of her absence?”

Rawlings shrugged and took a seat. The man looked like he was on death’s door. They had been searching for Emma for two hours.

Nicholas entered the room, face pale, followed by Sara.

She held out a small note addressed to Rawlings. “We found this in her bed chamber.”

Sebastian watched as Rawlings slowly opened the note. He thought he would go mad with curiosity as Rawlings’ eyes grew wider and wider, until finally, with a curse, he threw the note to the floor and yelled to ready the horses.

“What did it say?” Sebastian demanded, flying across the room toward Rawlings.

“He’s taken her.”

“He?”

“My half brother, John. He’s taken her. It seems he’s in need of a little revenge and has decided to ruin her reputation once and for all.”

Sebastian looked down at the note, still not understanding. His fingers grazed the heavily marked script. The note said nothing except, “I’m finishing what I started. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be in Scotland, married, and she will be ruined.”

Shaking with rage, Sebastian grabbed Rawlings by the coat tails. “I still don’t understand, so you better help me to understand before I end your life and everything you hold dear!”

His old friend, the one who’s path was so different from his own, looked pale and lifeless as he slowly began to talk.

“Leave us,” he demanded, voice hoarse.

Everyone stepped out of the room, except Nicholas, who stood firmly by the door. Apparently he was going nowhere.

“I’ll make it fast, time is of the essence.”

“Speak,” Sebastian demanded.

Rawlings turned away and shook his head as he looked out the darkened window. “We were betrothed. I didn’t love her, how could I? I was so young at the time. My brother however was obsessed with Emma. He followed her everywhere, was constantly spying on her. I thought it harmless at the time, after all, he’d had a sad life, couldn’t inherit anything since he was the illegitimate son of my father.

“He was lucky he had food and clothing, given the occupation of his mother. Slowly, over time, I noticed subtle changes in his attitude. We were all but six before my father sent him away to live with a nurse on another estate. He only visited us twice before he finally stopped coming.”

Sebastian sat across from where Rawlings stood and waited as patiently as he could. The horses weren’t even ready yet, so they had time for the tale.

“The first time he visited us, he had missed Father so much. He was only thirteen. He ran to Father's arms, but Father merely turned his back on him and told him he wasn’t his son. Naturally I felt terrible for him. I tried to keep him happy, but it wasn’t enough. I believe my father’s rejection drove him to do many things a man should not do.

“He visited one more time, awhile before Emma’s come out. He hadn’t seen her in years. She came for a visit with my mother. Like any young adolescent, he watched her, became even more obsessed than before. The only difference was he felt the need to prove himself to our father. He wanted to marry well and get even. Emma was the perfect target. He wanted her, so he began following her again. I thought it harmless, since he was only staying for a month or two. And then I heard screaming.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anymore of the story.

“The horses are ready, my lord,” a servant announced from the door.

Rawlings grabbed his coat. “We’ll finish the story in the carriage. There is much left to tell.”

Sebastian had lost his ability to speak. In all of his arrogance, he hadn’t for one second believed that Emma’s story was anything as bad as this. He could see the direction it was taking and couldn’t help but feel that she wouldn’t be in the position she was in, if he would have been able to swallow his pride and offer for her rather than testing her feelings for the sake of his own fear of rejection. Facing rejection was nothing compared to facing what she was now dealing with.

****

“You won’t get away with this,” Emma said once the gag was removed from her mouth. The fight hadn’t left her, although every time she looked into John’s eyes she wanted to bathe off the dirt and shame she felt.

John sneered, “I already have. Your reputation is obviously in ruins, and now it’s stained for good. Do you think your holier-than-thou duke will desire you now? I’m surprised he wanted you in the first place, knowing your past.”

Emma looked away.

“Oh, dear girl, he has no idea, does he? Imagine his heartbreak at your deceit? At your utter inability to trust him with all your troubles?” He reached out and caressed her face. Jerking away, Emma fought the urge to spit on the man. “It’s of no consequence, we shall be married soon. I’ll have that delicious blunt which is your dowry as well as the satisfaction of looking in Rawlings’ face, knowing that everything he needs and desires is now lost. Imagine my satisfaction when he asks me for a loan?”

“A loan?” Emma choked.

John laughed. “Ah yes, didn’t you know? Rawlings is so deep in debt he won’t be able to afford servants at the month’s end.”

“And your plan was to—”

“Bring you to the house party, of course. It was all too easy. I told him your engagement was a farce. Imagine my surprise when I watched you and the duke fall madly in love. It didn’t matter. I gave Rawlings hope he could catch you once again as well as helped to keep his creditors at bay so he could have that delicious house party as a time to woo you. Unfortunately for him, he works slower than expected. I happened to use the opportunity to take things into my own hands.”

“By kidnapping me.”

“Precisely.” Looking pleased, he put his arms behind his head and sighed. “Now, we have another days ride until we reach Gretna Green. Might as well make yourself comfortable, Emma. You aren’t going anywhere. Aw, don’t frown. We’ll get along quite smashingly. Maybe you’ll even do one of your scandalous dances for me, Emma? Oh please tell me you will,” he said, focusing on her bosom.

“I’d rather die,” she said through her teeth.

Snatching her hair with his hand, he pulled her off the seat and held a knife to her throat. “That too can be arranged, once I’ve had my fun with you.”

****

“Can we go any faster?” Sebastian demanded through clenched teeth. Even he knew the question was ridiculous. If the carriage went any faster the wheels would surely come right off.

“We’ll get there,” Rawlings said.

“The rest of the story.”

Shifting in his seat, Rawlings looked as uncomfortable as Sebastian felt. The situation would be laughable if he wasn’t so worried sick. Sitting across from Rawlings in a carriage out to save the woman he loved.

Not how he imagined the Season would be.

“Promise me you won’t kill him,” Rawlings said.

“Whom?”

“My brother. If I tell you the rest of the story, promise me you won’t kill him.”

“If? If?” Sebastian roared. “Phillip, if you don’t spill out the rest of the story, it isn’t your brother’s life that will need protecting.”

Taking a deep breath, Rawlings continued, “He watched her, followed her, though he never let her know. The night we heard her scream, my father and I were discussing our betrothal. I told him I didn’t want to marry her, that I wanted to experience life and women, to put it bluntly. He knew of my reputation at Eton and again at University. Thinking he could tame me, he wanted to hold firm to the contract he and the Gates family had drawn up. The argument was one of the worst ones we’d had, both of us saying things we didn’t mean. At first we thought the screaming was merely a trick on the ears, then it became louder. We decided to search it out. Both of us grabbed rifles and lanterns.”

Sebastian closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable ending of the story.

“The screams were coming from the hunting cabin that bordered both our and the Gates’ estate. We came upon the cabin around the same time her father did. Yelling, we tried to break down the door, but it was too late.

“He had escaped. My father and I recognized his face as well as his clothing as he jumped out the window. Her father had no idea, and neither did she. It was a secret I planned on taking to my grave.”

Sebastian swallowed the knot in his throat. “Did he…”

“No, we were in time, but that does not mean she bears no scars.”

Fighting the urge to take a swing at Rawlings despite the wisdom of his words, Sebastian raised his hand to his aching temples. “And her reputation?”

“Ah yes, another sad ending to our tale. Nobody believed her.”

“I don’t understand?”

Rawlings’ bitter laugh sent a chill down Sebastian’s back. “Her own family thought she invited him, that she encouraged his intentions. My father and I, we knew the truth, but I guess loyalty won out. So we let them believe it and sent John back home. My father took the secret to the grave. Not only did it give me a way out of our engagement contract, but I was free to live life on my own terms. The only sacrifice I made was the heart of one of my dearest childhood friends. Too selfish to care, I left and never looked back.”

“Until the ball.”

Rawlings looked him straight in the eyes. “Yes, until the ball. Guilt came back full force, that and my desire to make things right. Especially after finding out you were just using her for your own personal gain.”

“She agreed!” Sebastian yelled. “And would it not be to your personal benefit that her dowry would restore your family wealth?”

Rawlings rolled his eyes. “Does it honestly matter anymore, Seb?”

An aching remorse and guilt gnawed at Sebastian until he felt he would explode. No, she didn’t deserve it. Yes she had agreed and it was all in good fun, but then things had started to shift between them. He knew, of course he knew, he wasn’t an idiot. He should have called things off before either of them got hurt, instead he continued to play with her heart as well as his own, assuming she was a wild child in need of adventure and a good set down. Never once did it cross his mind that he would do such irreparable damage.

“What if we’re too late,” Sebastian asked, stealing another glance at his old friend.

“I’ll kill him,” Rawlings answered nonchalantly.

His admission surprised Sebastian. “Do you not recall asking me minutes ago to spare his life?”

“Only because I claim his death for myself. I refuse to let him ruin Emma’s life or anyone else’s any longer. I refuse to keep protecting him. You have no idea what I’ve lived with.” Rawlings eyes turned fierce. “Emma isn’t the first person he’s hurt, but she will be his last.”

There was more to Rawlings’ confession. More family history and deeper wounds than he cared to ask about. What mattered now was finding Emma and making sure she was safe.

The thought occurred to him that her reputation was in tatters by now. It was impossible to keep a secret in the ton.

He would make it right. He had to.

****

Emma coughed until she thought she would be sick. Although the carriage was covered, the dirt from the road had somehow managed to creep into her lungs. They had been traveling for twelve hours, and John had refused to give her anything to drink, lest he have to stop.

Starving and desperate, she shot a prayer up to heaven that someone would save her, that if someone got her out of this dreadful situation she would try to be a better person.

Struggling against her fear and the feeling of rejection when Sebastian had placed the necklace across her chest, she let out a little whimper. A single tear rushed down her cheek. Quickly she wiped it away, and then the carriage stopped.

“Ah, we’ve arrived!” John’s enthusiasm caused Emma’s stomach to clench.

Emma followed him out of the carriage, her eyes quickly looked around for someone of authority she could yell at. Anyone who would believe she was being kidnapped.

“Don’t even think about it,” John whispered in her ear. It was then she felt the knifepoint behind her back. “Scream and I scar that beautiful body of yours.”

Keeping silent, Emma walked in with John, biting her lip to keep from crying as he ordered the innkeeper to ready a room. “We are to be married as soon as possible,” he said.

The innkeeper took a look at Emma then back at John. “I see. Well the first ceremony cannot take place until the morning. I’m sorry. That is the best I can do.”

Johns nostrils flared, his eyes blazed.

“But, darling,” Emma said through ragged breaths. “Why not stay up and have some ale before the morning. I know I would love something to quench my parched lips.” Even though it nearly killed her, she leaned in to him and placed a kiss across his cheek, desperately praying that the idea of getting drunk was enough to prolong their stay. She needed all the time she could get, that is if anyone was coming after her.

John’s eyes flickered to the men drinking around him. “Well, maybe just a few then.”

“Splendid.” The innkeeper smiled. “Allow me to direct you to your rooms then?”

Emma followed, though she wondered if the innkeeper thought it odd she carried no clothes with her or anything of importance.

“That will be all.” John slammed the door in the innkeepers face, giving Emma a startle as she jumped away from him.

John ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll just see to the horses then and have some bread sent up. Don’t try to escape, Emma. You won’t appreciate the consequences.”

Nodding, she turned her back to him as he exited the room, slamming the door behind her. Moments later one of the workers at the inn walked in with some bread, cheese, and tea. They also started a fire and asked if she needed anything else.

Rescuing? A knife to stab John with?

Shaking her head, she watched as her last hope walked out of the room. Emma went over to the chair by the fireplace and sat, too tired and numb to move. The only way out was to wait and see if John would get foxed enough for her to slip past him in the early morning.

Managing to warm herself by the fire, she allowed her body to try to catch some sleep. After all, there was nothing she could do. At least not yet, not until John had passed out.

Emma dreamed of Sebastian’s smile. The way his body seemed to cover hers, to protect her. His dimples and his laughter, her body ached for him. She awoke with tears streaming down her face and his name on her lips.

“Sebastian,” she choked.

“Shh…”

Snapping her eyes open, she scanned her surroundings. Everything was pitch black, but she felt his hands.

The same sure hands she had felt during blind man’s bluff were firmly placed over hers, warming her and comforting her to the core.

Safe, she was safe.

A loud thud sounded followed by a muffled curse.

Emma tensed under Sebastian’s hands. And then she heard a familiar man’s voice say, “I’ve got him, Seb. It’s fine.”

Letting out the breath she had been holding, Emma finally took a look at her surroundings. Everything was still blanketed in black and then a match was lit, as well as the fire. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she saw.

Sebastian was in front of her, and to her utter shock, Rawlings was standing over John’s body.

“Is he…” Emma didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Rawlings grunted. “No, though he deserves it. We have the local magistrate on his way.”

“Emma.” The voice belonged to Sebastian. Why was it she couldn’t bear to look at him? To make eye contact with the one man who held her heart and who had saved her? “Did he hurt you, Emma?”

“No.” Her voice was small.

“Emma. Rest, sweet Emma. We shall talk in the morning. You are safe.”

“Stay,” she found herself saying and then clenching onto his arms as if he was her only lifeline.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Rawlings spoke first. “I’ll let the innkeeper know the bride’s brother and cousin have arrived then.” He left the room abruptly. Emma collapsed against Sebastian’s chest, exhausted. She felt his arms surround her as he carried her to the bed.

A soft mattress swallowed her up, and without thinking, she pulled at Sebastian to join her. This was not a night she wanted to spend alone.

Slowly, the bed sank under the weight of him. Sighing, he pulled her into his body and brushed the hair out of her face. “Sleep, Emma. Just sleep.”

In her defense she tried.

Tossing and turning, half tempted to hit Sebastian across the face like she would a pillow that had lost its fluff.

“Emma,” Sebastian warned when she turned to face him.

Fascinating how the dark seemed to make one more brave. Tentatively she reached out her hand and nearly gasped aloud when it came into contact with his smooth jaw. Tracing the outline of his face with her fingertips, she allowed her body to relax.

She felt him swallow, could sense the desire humming from his body. But she wasn’t afraid, nor did she want to leave.

This was the one place in the world she wanted to be. And after today he would leave her forever. The ruse was over. He had no need for her anymore. John had truly ruined everything worth hoping for in her life.

So just this once, she wanted to do something for her and forget the consequences.

Chapter Twenty-five

Sebastian had wanted to kill John. The only thing stopping him was the ridiculous promise he had made Rawlings. That and the look on Emma’s face when she had dreamed of him and spoken his name. The way it sounded on her lips was his undoing.

If she asked him to sail across the world to prove his love, he would do it without a second thought. So when she asked him to stay, he couldn’t refuse, not if his life depended on it.

Currently he regretted it with his whole being.

Body aching with need, it was sheer torture lying next to her. It didn’t help matters that she fit so perfectly in his arms, as if she was made for him.

Rawlings had done him a favor by informing the innkeeper her brother and cousin had arrived. He had made it possible for him to stay with her without her totally ruining her reputation, not that it was in jeopardy of being pure as snow.

Emma made a whimpering sound. He braced his arms tighter around her and then she turned to face him. Cursing under his breath, he tried to think of ways to keep his body under control before he compromised her.

The face of an angel slept in front of him. For a moment he willed her to open her eyes just so he could gaze into them. Soft reddish brown hair fell around her perfect cheekbones. Reaching out, he caressed her neck then rained kisses down her nose.

His body was tighter than a drum, if the girl decided to move again he would lose all control and truly finish the job John had planned to start, and she didn’t deserve that. As much as his body screamed for it, she didn’t deserve to be mauled the same day she was rescued from someone who had almost raped her.

So immobile he sat, as straight and firm as a statue, lest she touch him and remove all self control he possessed, and even that was hanging on by a fine thread.

And then she squirmed, nearly sending him into a fit of curses, and then repeated it again and again until finally she was awake and tracing his features with her hands.

They smelled like lemons.

Curse lemons and any fruit trying to cause him to sin in the worst of ways.

It would be unforgiveable.

“Sebastian, I need you,” Emma whispered and then he felt her lips brush his.

With the last bit of restraint in his possession, he tenderly returned her kiss, as innocent as he could manage, and then cupped her face. “You’re tired, Emma, go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“No.” Clawing at him, she pulled him closer.

Not good.

“This. You. Right now. I need you, Sebastian.”

And then the minx was kissing him again. In all his years it had been easy to push women away, especially the ones his grandmother had thrown in his direction in hopes he would somehow slip up with his good reputation.

In this moment, as her soft lips pressed innocently against his, he realized he had pushed all those women away so he could pull this one closer.

So he did.

Moaning, he relented, pressing his body firmly against Emma’s softness. It was heaven. He wanted to die.

Though her kiss was innocent, it was perfect. Her lips had a way of burning against his, searing his soul. He took until he couldn’t think straight. And then it occurred to him. He was quite successfully being used.

Yes, he was sure of Emma’s affection, but she wanted him to make her pain go away, to make the past turn into nothing, to make it not matter anymore.

Though she would hate him, and worse of all cry, he needed to stop this madness. To protect Emma from herself. He desperately wanted her to realize that in the morning he married her not because he had to, not because he felt sorry for her or because she gave herself to him, but because he wanted her, and he loved her more than life itself.

“Emma,” he said as he slowly pushed her away. His body cursed his every move. “Emma, no. Not like this.”

She froze. He didn’t know if words would make anything better, or if he merely should pray she would be too tired to remember.

“You—you don’t want me?”

How could she even think that?

“I do, Emma. You know I do.” He pulled at her hands and gently ran them down his torso and even lower until her innocent eyes widened. “Can you not feel the way my body responds to your every move? I ache for you like I’ve never ached for anyone in my life. But I won’t have you this way. I want all of you, not a piece of you because you’re hurt, but everything.”

Abruptly Emma pulled away to the farthest edge of the bed. He could hear her muffled sobs echo through the room.

Rejection never felt good, and he felt like an absolute cad that he had even given in for those briefest of moments. But he intended to marry her, and he didn’t want a shadow of doubt hanging over what should be the happiest moment of her life.

****

To say that Sebastian didn’t sleep a wink would be a gross understatement. He had in fact woken up so early he had to wait for the blacksmith to awaken as well. It wasn’t odd to have a ceremony performed by a blacksmith instead of a vicar, though he hoped the blacksmith could point him in the direction of a vicar. He didn’t want Emma to have to say her vows over the anvil. But considering the innkeeper said nobody would be awake at this horrid hour, his best bet was to have a conversation with the blacksmith, who would surely be awake this early.

An hour went by before the light in the blacksmith’s was lit. Sebastian didn’t waste a moment knocking on the door and pleading his case.

Arrangements were made within the hour, and he whistled the entire way back to the inn. Only to stop dead in his tracks as he watched Emma plead with Rawlings to take her home.

Rawlings, poor chap, looked caught between telling her the truth that she was, in fact, going home not as Emma Gates, but as the Duchess of Tempest and just plain running in the other direction.

Coward.

“Emma, what has you out so early? I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

She refused to make eye contact, only bit her lip and kept her eyes focused on Rawlings, who chose this moment to kick a rock and look up to the sky. Poor chap.

“Rawlings, if you’ll just excu—” Sebastian didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Rawlings had tipped his hat and turned on his heel toward the inn.

Emma’s face followed Rawlings’ retreating form, her fists clenched, and as much as Sebastian would love to see her unleash all that pent up anger on an unsuspecting Rawlings, he had better plans.

“Shall we?” Extending his arm, he waited in vain for her to take it.

Instead she fell into step beside him with her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Emma looked up at him with a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “For what?”

“For a great many things, but most of all, for letting you down when you needed me the most. For being a coward when I made you believe I wasn’t falling in love with you, and most of all, for waiting until now to tell you how desperately I need you. Will you marry me?”

****

As far as proposals went, it had to be one of the better ones Emma had ever heard. And yet, she doubted him. No, that wasn’t true. She doubted herself, doubted that he would in fact love her—all of her, including her soiled reputation.

“You don’t understand, Sebastian. I can’t marry you, for reasons you yourself displayed ever so plainly to me upon our first meeting. You desire a woman of consequence, someone without stain or blemish, and that is all I will bring you. A stain. A blemish. Nothing but heartache and a reputation that will forever be attached to your family’s good name. So, no. For as much as I love you, I could never do that to you.”

She pulled away but was crushed by the heavy weight of his arms. And then he was kissing her. She tried to fight, to push him away as her heart shattered into a million pieces inside. To kiss her, to give her one last taste was the cruelest of tricks.

“Emma,” he said against her lips. “I know, Emma. I know everything.”

The fight left, replaced by anger, and then confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Rawlings. He told me everything. I make my offer of marriage knowing full well who I attach myself to. Miss Emma Gates, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, honest, adventurous though it might be the death of me and give me gray hair. And dare I say quite possibly the most delicious dancer I’ve ever known? Emma, I want you, all of you. Reputation and all.”

“Truly?”

Sebastian growled as he pulled her in, kissing her hard on the mouth. “If you say no, I’ll come after you. I’ll never stop. I may even ruin my own reputation in the process.”

“You wouldn’t!” Squirming in his arms, she laughed. “I love you.”

He stilled and then tilted his head toward hers. “And I you. Does that mean yes, sweet Emma?”

Tears pooled in her eyes as she nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Perfect. Let’s be on our way then.” Tugging at her arm, he pulled her down the street.

“Sebastian?” Looking around, Emma thought it was possibly a trick. Did he truly mean now?

“Oh yes, left that part out, my apologies. We’re getting married now. I already have the vicar waiting, Rawlings will be present, good fellow he is. Did you know he thought I was playing with your heartstrings?”

So Rawlings had truly been trying to protect her as well as win her as his own bride. It left her wondering what he would do now. He seemed happy enough though as stubborn as ever, not letting her leave the inn until Sebastian returned.

Emma felt like she was walking on clouds. Each step she took with Sebastian seemed to get faster until finally she felt like running. The only thing that kept her at a normal pace was years of training on how a lady should present herself in public.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how much her reputation would harm Sebastian, but the fact he loved her despite it was enough to push it even further into her mind.

Because in less than an hour, she would be his wife.

Chapter Twenty-six

Sebastian had half a mind to pay the vicar to merely sign the marriage certificate so he could be Emma’s husband and have the whole situation done with. He craved her, needed her, and was tired of waiting.

As the vicar finally pronounced them man and wife, Sebastian, unable to control himself any longer, pulled Emma into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth in front of God and Rawlings.

Rawlings snickered and turned away. Sebastian lifted his eyes as Rawlings waited at the door. The man tipped his hat and was off. He had only stayed to be a witness in case there needed to be one and now he was gone.

The friendship once so tattered and broken had begun to heal, just one more thing Sebastian was thankful for.

It was too late for them to travel back so soon, and Sebastian wanted a night with his new duchess before he was to meet the faces of the ton and that of his grandmother, though he knew she would be pleased. He had already told her of his intentions.

Although he still couldn’t figure out why the woman had winked and patted him on the back as if she had anything to do with it.

Sebastian watched in fascination as his bride walked ahead of him into their bedroom. The innkeeper had managed to find them a larger room, and Sebastian had also arranged for a bottle of wine as well as a bath for his bride.

He wasn’t thinking Emma would necessarily need a bath, but knew it might comfort her before the night ahead. He didn’t pretend to know how women’s minds worked, he merely knew it would be better for her to relax.

Closing the door behind him, he walked toward Emma, telling himself repeatedly he needed to take things slow, when all he wanted to do was rip her dress in half and devour her.

Romance, she deserved to be treasured, cherished. Stifling the array of curses that managed to make their way to his lips, he watched as Emma began taking off her bonnet, the pins in her hair and then—

“Sebastian?”

Clearing his throat, he answered, “Yes?”

“Could you help me? I can’t manage the buttons on my dress.”

Innocent? Hardly. The coy smile on her lips was telling enough, the minx. Approaching her, he pulled at her shoulders to turn her around, all the while telling himself to breath in and out.

As his fingers brushed the buttons lining the back of her dress, he had to pause in order to keep himself from taking out a knife and cutting it off of her. One button and then two, he had to keep repeating how many she had, lest he continue to be tempted beyond what he could bear. After all, his wife needed his assistance, and this was now something he could help her with.

Once the last button was reached, he cleared his throat and watched in utter horror as she let it drop to the floor.

“And the corset as well,” his wife purred.

“Of course,” he croaked.

If she was going to continue to taunt him, one bottle of wine would not be enough while he waited for her to bathe.

His hands reached again to the corset. Loosening the stays, he found himself utterly fascinated that he was so aroused. Never had undressing a lady once appealed to him. It was all about what happened underneath the clothes. But watching as his wife undressed, as he helped her, had to be the most sensual experience of his life.

When the last part of the corset was loosened, he waited. If the room wasn’t still so chilly, he’d be sweating. He would lose his mind if this woman continued to torture him.

Words failed to come. Open-mouthed, he watched Emma strip down to her chemise and turn to him. Part of his mind told him he should twist away, the other yelled at him to attack his wife. After all, she was his, wasn’t she? And why in tarnation did she feel the need to put him through such utter torture?

“I think I shall take a bath now, Sebastian.” Emma smiled.

Sebastian cursed and then nodded his head in approval.

“Will you help me with my stockings?”

Sebastian fought to keep his rising irritation and arousal under control. “Is there anything else you shall need my help with, or would you rather I summon one of the ladies from downstairs?”

“Oh no, I think you shall sufficiently be able to strip me of my remaining clothes and help me bathe.”

Putting his hands on his hips, he looked away. Then ran his fingers through his hair, leaving one hand curiously behind his neck. “You want me to help you bathe? Are you mad?”

Emma lifted her eyebrow in teasing before putting her leg on the chair next to him and pulling up her chemise. The woman was trying to kill him. Up the chemise went until her entire thigh was exposed, slowly, she rolled down her stockings then flashed him a glance. “This is what you get for making me think you didn’t care.” Dropping her leg, she shifted and lifted the other to the chair, repeating with her other stocking. “And this is what you get for not telling me you love me.”

And then she was in front of him. In a whisper she said, “And this is what you get for rejecting me last night. Though I know why you did it, I had no idea what you were planning today. So, punish you I will, until you’re begging me to stop. Now, Sebastian, would you check the temperature of the bath?”

He wasn’t sure how he found himself within the next minute doing exactly that, except he hadn’t discovered the words to fight her, not when she had so many elegant points and not when she was touching parts of her body he ached to kiss.

“It’s a little hot, Emma, would you—“

He couldn’t finish his sentence as his eyes fell on Emma. The water nymph was standing directly in front of him, sans clothes, only a smile on her beautiful face. “Thank you, husband.” She stood up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He kept his arms firmly planted next to his body. Not because he didn’t want to grab her and have his way with her, but because he was so utterly paralyzed by her brazenness, her beauty, and frankly by the fact that she had so magnificently stumped him.

Using his body as an anchor, she lifted her delicate foot into the tub, then the other. Like a man in a trance, he watched until her entire body was covered in the hot water. Her hand was extended toward him. Thinking she was asking to be touched, he reached out, but she cleared her throat and pointed to the soap.

“Right.” He sighed

“Thank you, my sly little fox.”

Shaking his head, he was about to take his leave. Meaning he was just about ready to go drink the entire contents of the wine bottle when she cleared her throat again and then in a light beautiful voice asked, “Aren’t you going to help me?”

Of course, and then I’ll drop dead because, if she touches me one more time without doing anything, my body will cease all normal functioning.

“Yes, let me just…I’ll just take off my jacket, shall I?”

“And your shoes, don’t forget your shoes, Sebastian.”

Perplexed, he took off his shoes.

“And your cravat, you can take that off as well.”

Sebastian put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Emma, what else would you like me to take off?”

Wrong question.

With a wink, she motioned with her little finger for him to approach. Things were taking a turn for the worse, and he was quite sure his body had met its limit.

And then when his face neared hers, she reached for his shirt with one hand and pulled him in for an earth shattering kiss.

“You’re forgiven,” she whispered across his lips.

Sebastian growled. “And you, my dear, have not yet been sufficiently punished.” He picked her dripping body up out of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping her in it. He carried her to the fireplace and, without giving her any time to protest, alternated between kissing her and drying her off.

Unfortunately, the towel was covering her legs where he wanted to run his hands up and down the smooth pearly expanse of skin. He threw the towel in a frenzy and began raining kisses from her feet all the way up to her knee.

She squealed; he didn’t stop. He continued upward until he thought she might scream. But she didn’t, instead she pulled at his body, obviously needing more of what he had to offer.

****

Emma was quite literally soaring as Sebastian reached around and pushed the towel away from her.

The room once so chilly and tense was now a blazing furnace. As Sebastian’s hands dug into her hair, she felt she was finally home where she belonged. If he had taken advantage of her last night, she might have never believed he truly loved her, that he wanted to marry her. She would have easily thought he did it out of obligation. The man was a rule follower, he didn’t do things halfway. He would never compromise a lady and leave her.

She loved him for that. She loved him for a great many things, especially the way his mouth felt against her feet, and then her calf as he raised it next to his head and began brushing wet kisses all the way up the side of her leg.

Oddly she wasn’t one bit embarrassed, mesmerized, yes, but no shame accompanied his assault, only excitement and pleasure.

Large hands dug into the back of her head as he opened her mouth and suckled her tongue all the while dizzying her with passion.

And then she felt his body leave hers. A sense of emptiness overwhelmed her and then a feeling of burning anticipation took its place. Hastily Sebastian threw down what was remaining of his clothes. His shirt and pantaloons. Fortunately for Emma she had already demanded he remove his clothing, leaving only a few objects to strip off.

Truly, he was beautiful. Everything women accused him of and more. Knowing that he hated being compared to a feminine attribute, she fought for words to describe the masculine beauty standing in front of her. Hard muscles lined his body giving him the dominance of a modern day Adonis. And then as if amused by her obvious assessment, he winked sending her stomach into a fit of butterflies. Now she was nervous.

As he approached her, she leaned forward, careful not to stare too wide eyed at everything he represented, and then somehow she was in his arms, being kissed, being awakened.

Carefully he lifted her onto the bed, still kissing her lips and neck, and then his body was covering hers. Desperate for him to be closer, she clawed at him, moaning for him, needing him more than she needed air.

He was everywhere, her brain seemed to stop working because all she knew was she was desperate for him, ached for him, and only him, the good Duke of Tempest, Sebastian St. James.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Emma awoke in Sebastian’s arms. The moonlight crept in through the windows, casting an angelic hue across his face.

Not always so angelic, she mused as her mind went back to the night of passion they had shared.

Suddenly grateful he hadn’t allowed himself to be seduced by the women his grandmother had thrown his way, she rested her hand across the bare muscled expanse of his back and laughed as she caressed lower and lower until Sebastian, with a moan, grabbed her wrists and had her on her back.

“Not tired, eh, my little minx?” Nuzzling her neck, he flicked his tongue across her earlobe and continued to kiss her hotly across the sides of her face.

Emma was ready for more of Sebastian. Her body screamed for release. The love they had, the attraction they shared, it was unique—perfect. Her pain was his pain and his pain hers. In that moment lying in his arms in his bed, she knew everything she had fought for years to keep in—the rejection of her family, of her friends, the loss of her reputation—it didn’t matter, because she had love.

Laughter bubbled out of her.

Sebastian tensed.

“I know this is all new to you, Emma, but it must be said that laughing while a man is trying to…please a lady is not necessarily a boon to his confidence.”

“I’m so-so sorry.” Emma giggled, finally able to relax. “It’s not you.”

“Right,” Sebastian grumbled, though he didn’t necessarily push her away.

“I just figured something out, something about myself that I’ve been fighting for years.”

Sebastian leaned down until his face was touching hers. “Care to clue me in on what exactly has you in a fit of giggles while I’m trying to remove every memory of your tragic past from your consciousness?”

Emma was silent. Because what was she to say when the Good Duke of Tempest was talking about removing anything from her body?

“I just need you. I love you. You make me feel…not so ruined. That my reputation, or lack thereof, wasn’t an obstacle for us.” She shrugged, unable to fully explain her feelings.

Sebastian sighed. “Emma, reputation or not, you are perfect and I love you. It was foolish of me to think that by having a spotless reputation I would somehow avenge my parents’ death.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Ah, I shall tell you my story, if you tell me yours.”

Emma nodded and waited. It was only at the end of the story that she realized tears were pouring down her face. “Oh, Sebastian, I had no idea! I’m sorry. So that’s why you and Rawlings...”

“Yes, though in hindsight it seems ridiculous. I guess it helped me deal with the pain better knowing I could blame him as well as myself.” He shifted so she could face him better. “And what of you, Emma? I know what happened so long ago, but, dearest, why were you in the cabin in the first place?”

“You mean, you don’t know?”

“No?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Emma, stop confusing me, I have no idea what you were doing in the cabin, just that it was assumed you met John there to ruin yourself.”

Laughter seemed to escape Emma again. “You married me based on your enemy’s word that I wasn’t ruined?”

Sebastian paused. “I love you. Of course I did.”

Sighing, Emma kissed him across his bare chest. “I was dancing.”

The air crackled with excitement. “Dancing?”

“Mmm, dancing – like a gypsy.”

“Oh, saints above. Do you still know…”

Moving her hips ever so slightly, she giggled and then raised her hands. Though she was lying down, she was convinced he fully understood the answer to that question.

“Oh, Sebastian?” Breathlessly she waited for his response as he peeled the blankets from her warm body, exposing her flesh to his eyes as well as the cold of the night.

“Mmm…what is it?” Distracted man.

“Your grandmother suggested I seduce you.”

“And that should shock me because?” he asked, now apparently fascinated with the way her arm curved around his neck as he kissed her shoulder.

“Because I tried.”

He stilled. “I’m sorry. You tried to drive me mad with lust?”

Guiltily she nodded.

“This wouldn’t by any chance have anything to do with the visit you paid to my room, would it?”

Emma looked away.

“Well.” Sebastian pulled the blankets entirely from her body. “I think it goes without saying that you should be punished.”

“And how, pray tell, are you going to punish me?”

Wicked intent gleamed in his eyes. “You have the rest of the night to find out, my sweet.”

And she did. Oh how she did.

****

Odd the feeling one gets when he’s married. Sebastian couldn’t wipe the smug grin off his face if he tried. Pride had a little to do with it, sure. He was proud to have Emma as a wife, and proud he had spent most the night pleasuring his wife all the while trying to figure out why he hadn’t married her sooner.

Emma had snorted and said because most men are idiots.

Considering the circumstances, he had to agree, though he would never admit it to anyone.

Their carriage came to a halt in front of Renwick House. Sebastian was more than excited to bring Emma inside. She was in desperate need of her belongings as well as a new dress, and well, he was in desperate need of Emma. But somehow the thought of him and his wife christening any of the rooms underneath Nicholas’s ownership felt slightly wrong. So he managed to arrange for Emma to move her things into his townhome as soon as possible. His sister and her two friends would most likely still be in attendance, but this time he wasn’t a lone bachelor under the roof with three green girls. He was with his wife. The new Duchess of Tempest.

Oh how he longed for the season to be over so he could take her to his estate in Somerset. Groves Castle would be a fairy tale to Emma.

He helped Emma out of the carriage, smiling as her eyes scanned his body appreciatively. Yes, marriage was good.

Feeling the sudden urge to hum, he hooked her arm within his and walked along beside her, nearly skipping as they knocked on the door.

Naturally they were ushered in immediately.

The salon was empty. Sebastian used the opportunity to kiss Emma on the mouth. How was it she always tasted so good?

And then he heard a throat clear.

Turning, he bit back a curse as Nicholas stood at the door, arms crossed. “Found her, did you?”

Sebastian’s brain worked slowly, how exactly did one explain anything to Nicholas? All brooding and dark at the doorway. Sebastian had a half a mind to wait until Sara entered before telling his friend he had, in fact, married Emma sooner rather than later.

“Oh, Emma!” Sara burst into the room and pulled Emma into a hug.

Samuel was close behind. “Your grace, your grace!” The chubby little fellow ran at Sebastian full speed. Wondering if he should brace for impact, he readied his body as much as possible as Samuel clamped onto his leg in a fierce hug. “And Miss Emma!” He hugged her leg too, then stood between the two of them hands on hips. “Your grace?”

“Yes, Samuel?” Sebastian took a knee.

“Emma’s not sad anymore. What did you do to make her not sad anymore?”

Emma gasped then started choking with laughter while Sebastian met the steely eyes of Nicholas Renwick. Samuel, innocent chap he was, stood there awaiting an answer.

“I—I love her, Samuel. That makes Emma happy.”

He shrugged then looked perplexed as if love had never occurred to him. “Oh,” he said, then exited the room.

The minute Samuel left, Nicholas closed the doors. “If you compromised her before we had a chance to announce your marriage or get you married. If you ruined her, Seb, I’ll—”

“We’re married!” Emma announced, throwing her arms around Sara’s neck.

Nicholas’s eyes darted to Sebastian’s. “Is that true? You married her? You—oh, I need to sit.” Nicholas sat on the nearby chair. “You, the Good Duke of Tempest, eloped to Gretna Green?”

Sara patted Nicholas on the arm. “Honestly, Nicholas. I don’t see a need to be so dramatic. They are in love, and it was what was best for Emma at the time.” She shook her head in reproach then grinned. “Emma, are you going to Somerset then? I hear the family seat is beautiful, it’s—”

“They must announce it at the ball before they go anywhere.”

“It?” Sebastian asked.

“Your marriage, of course. Otherwise people will think you had to get married.”

Sebastian felt himself get angry. “And why should it matter? I have no care for my reputation.”

“It wasn’t your reputation I was thinking of, but your duchess’s.” Nicholas stepped to the desk where the invitations sat. “I also believe your grandmother would be pleased to have your bride introduced at one of the Season’s balls. You know she’ll just follow you to Somerset if you don’t.” Nicholas grinned. “Aha! Here it is. We haven’t yet accepted, but I think it shall be the best ball to attend.”

Emma approached Nicholas. “Which ball?”

Nicholas’s eyes flashed to Sebastian’s before once again resting on Emma’s. “The Von Olversteen Masquerade ball.”

“But…” Emma backed away. “That’s the ball my parents—”

“It’s the only one they said they would be attending this Season, yes,” Nicholas finished. “And it’s about time they realize the prize they have in their possession. And now a duchess. What do you say, Sebastian?”

All eyes were on him. Swelling with pride yet again, he reached out and pulled Emma into his arms. “I think it’s one of the best ideas I’ve heard from you yet.”

Sara snorted. “Ah yes, quite an accomplishment on Nicholas’s part.”

“I’ll ignore that,” Nicholas said, smiling.

Emma cleared her throat. “Does everyone know?”

The room stayed silent; nobody dared make eye contact with her.

Sara was the first to speak. “Know what?”

“Has the ton caught wind of the scandal at Rawlings country estate?”

Nicholas’s and Sara’s faces were answer enough.

“And what of my previous scandal?”

“Rawlings will take it to his grave, as will the rest of us.” Sebastian stepped forward and rested a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “It is best we face everyone as soon as possible, Emma. Trust me, I do have a plan.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

“Gowns, we need gowns,” Sara said as they entered the shop. “I do hope she can make you something extravagant, given only three days.”

“Sebastian’s money and his title should be enough, don’t you think?” Emma asked, closely following Sara.

Sara nudged Emma in the ribs. “I do think it’s rather sporting that the men would come along with us.”

Emma held in her laughter as she watched Nicholas and Sebastian push through the doorway as if they were crossing to the gallows. Every step made was calculated as to not touch any of the fabric or, God forbid, they might turn into women.

“Yes,” Emma agreed. “Rather sporting.” Her husband of a few days was now squinting at fabrics as if trying to make out how they could possibly form it into a dress. Maybe having them tag along was a bad idea. After all, men didn’t belong at a modiste’s shop. Then again, Sebastian felt she might need the extra pull that only a duke, and an arrogant one at that, could bring. Relenting, she’d told him he could come if he was quick about his decisions and then left with Nicholas to go to Whites.

He had agreed, but the way he was staring at the fabric made Emma again wonder if he had any idea what type of dress he wanted his future duchess wearing at their first ball.

“Seb?”

His eyes snapped up. “Hmm?”

“This isn’t necessary…”

Just then, the owner of the shop walked up, only she pushed past Sara and ignored Emma, recognizing immediately the Angel Duke of Tempest, naturally.

“Your grace.” She curtsied. “It’s been reported you have a new duchess, I’ve been expecting your visit. I assume you are in need of a wardrobe fit for a duchess. When would you like to have her stop by? Naturally, I would be more than happy to make a house call, if his grace is so inclined.”

Emma tried not to be put off as the lady continued to ignore her and Sara, but it was aggravating to say the least.

Smiling, Sebastian reached out and grasped the lady’s hand and lifted it to his lips in a feather-light kiss. “Ah, you do me great honor, but why don’t you help these ladies first?” He pointed to Sara and Emma. “I shall wait, of course.”

Appalled, the lady made a clicking noise with her tongue and shook her head. “Your grace, they are nothing, merely shopping. I will help my important guests first.”

“Truly?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her head snapped in affirmation.

“Well then, I’m sorry to be a bother.” He turned his attention fully to Emma. “It appears we will have to find another shop, my dear.”

The owner blanched then looked between the two, trying to do an awkward curtsy before nearly tripping on her own feet as she ran to grab a measuring tape. “My sincere apologies; I did not know. Your graces, I will do my utmost to dress the future duchess in such a way nobody would dare ignore her.”

Sebastian grinned, locking his eyes with Emma. “Good, now get on with it.”

As the owner scurried away to ready a room, Emma poked Sebastian in the chest. “You did that on purpose!”

Nicholas laughed in the background, apparently enjoying the entertainment.

Sebastian didn’t deny it. “Of course I did. I wanted her full attention, and now she will try even harder to please you.”

Emma wanted to be cross with him, but he was being sweet, and it did seem to be working as all four of them watched the dress shop owner scurry around in a frenzy trying to get materials ready for her own personal viewing.

“Have fun,” Sebastian whispered in her ear. And he and Nicholas were out the door.

****

The day of the ball arrived. Emma would be lying if she said she was anything but dizzy with nerves. The dress had been delivered only that morning and with it a personalized note from the owner of the shop.

“Shine,” it said.

One word.

Emma felt ill. Lifting her eyes to the mirror, she gasped at her reflection. Needing to be alone, she had excused all the maids from her room, yet the whole time they were readying her she hadn’t the nerve to look at herself in the mirror. What if it wasn’t what she thought? What if the dress was a disappointment? Or a disaster? She wanted more than anything to make Sebastian proud this night. And yes, a small part of her wanted her parents to be proud and envious of the man at her side.

Steadying herself, she took a few deep breaths then heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

Sebastian stood at the door, his eyes trained on her face, then ever so slowly they caressed the rest of her body paying special attention to her bosom. Feeling naked she almost wrapped her arms around herself. Never had a man looked at her so openly or sensually.

“Are you entirely sure you want to go to the ball?” he asked once he reached her side. “This dress…”

“Is it terrible?”

“Yes.” Sebastian nipped her neck with his teeth. “Remove it immediately, before I rip it away from your body.

Laughing, she pushed him away. “Sebastian! Stop.”

He was pawing at the back, trying to remove the dress as he kissed her neck and nipped with his teeth. Insufferable man.

“Husband! Angel duke?” At this she lifted her eyebrow. “We will be late! Now tell me the words I need to hear so I can have courage tonight.”

“Beautiful, stunning, perfect, and most of all, mine.”

Emma had to look away to swallow the lump in her throat.

“And, Emma? It will be fine, I promise you.”

Nodding her head she allowed a single tear to escape, then promptly followed him out, glancing one last time at the mirror.

****

Sebastian hadn’t been joking. His desire for his wife was so powerful he wanted nothing more than to rip the dress she was currently wearing until scraps of it were scattered about the floor before sufficiently rendering her boneless and whetting his own appetite, tasting and exploring every inch of her until she begged him to stop.

Thinking about it was doing nothing to make his mood any lighter. The idea of going to a ball just to please the ton all at once seemed admirable. It felt more of a nuisance, especially given the dress currently hanging on her body.

Blue satin wrapped around her curves and gathered at the back where the material scooped scandalously low, he found himself more than once stealing a glance at the amount of skin exposed on her backside. It might be wise for him to walk behind her, given a man’s tendency to stare, and he had no problem being the only one with a view. He only prayed he wouldn’t have to kill any idiotic gentleman who had an itch to prolong his stare.

Emma flashed him a devastating smile before entering the carriage. It was entirely possible that it would be a long night for the angel duke. One spent guarding his wife from young puppies and rakes.

But even before protecting her, what he wanted most was to dance.

****

They arrived at the ball late, which was exactly how Sebastian had planned it. Not wanting the majority of the ton to be distracted when they made their entrance, he gave their names and smiled when they were announced.

Emma, however, was not pleased. “Why didn’t they introduce us as married?”

Sebastian had known it would cause some momentary pain, but the plan he had was for Emma to truly see how much he cherished the woman she was. Not only was he proud of her, he would cause more scandal in order to have her.

“Trust me.”

As they walked by, people whispered her name. He felt Emma tense underneath his touch.

“I’ll just be a minute, Emma,” he said, leaving her alone.

He walked over to his grandmother, though he kept an eye on Emma as people gave her the obvious cut direct. Being with him had only de-clawed some of the ton, but the majority of them were now ignoring her completely. Emma kept her head high. He wanted to applaud her as she continued to try to be polite even when others shunned her.

The dowager duchess seemed to be waiting for him, an odd smile on her lips. “I see she was successful, then?”

“Grandmother?”

“In seducing you. Don’t think my eyes are too weak to notice the way you were stealing glances at her just now. So when is the wedding?”

“A few days…ago.”

The dowager laughed, gaining the attention of many, though no one seemed at all bothered. “So why have you not introduced her as your new duchess?”

“To prove myself to her.”

“And how exactly is not introducing her proving yourself, my boy?”

“You’ll see.”

With that he took his leave and approached Emma. Her face was strained. “Sebastian, I can’t do this. I can’t be married to you, not with everyone watching and judging. I can’t hurt your reputation. It’s not fair.”

“Emma, look at me.”

She raised her eyes.

“I love you, just a few minutes more, and you will see what I have in store for you.”

Nodding, she pasted another smile on her face. Suddenly her eyes bugged as if she was surely seeing a ghost. The crowd parted, revealing an older man and woman staring intently at Emma.

“My parents,” she said under her breath. He tightened his hold on her arm and led her straight to them. “Are you sure?”

“Quite,” he said, feeling more agitated than he thought he would. Her father seemed dignified enough with graying hair and a young-looking face, though Sebastian could tell he had an appetite for spirits and fine food, considering his overall girth.

Her mother, on the other hand, looked exactly like Emma. Reaching out, he grabbed her outstretched glove and kissed the air above it. “I’ve been waiting for quite a while to meet the parents of Lady Gates.”

“Yes, well,” her father said, still avoiding eye contact with Emma, making Sebastian want to throw a punch.

Her mother grasped at Emma’s hands. “Have you been well, dear? We heard about the little game you played, faking an engagement.”

Genuine sadness behind her mother’s eyes forced Sebastian’s anger to soften, but only slightly. Emma nodded and pulled her mom in for a hug.

“Well then,” Sebastian said. “I was just going to ask Emma to dance. You wouldn’t mind would you, Lord Gates?”

The man looked between the two, anger behind his eyes. “Are you trying to cause more scandal, Emma? Have you not shamed our family enough?”

Perfect, Sebastian thought. “Lord Gates, if you would be so kind in the future to keep your insults about my wife to yourself, it would be greatly appreciated.”

The man’s face fell and he began to stutter, “Your grace, I—“

“Allow me to introduce to you the new Duchess of Tempest.” At that, Emma must have found herself, for she gave a low curtsy.

“Shall we be off, my love? You did promise me a dance, did you not?” he announced loud enough for both parents to hear. “What do you say? Dance with your husband? I know the dowager duchess would be pleased.”

Although Emma’s eyes held some concern and pain, he knew it was just the beginning, for he hoped with this one dance he would change it all.

All things considering, hadn’t it started with one dance?

Slowly, her head nodded. It was all he needed, and he led her on the floor. As the music began to play, the people around him faded into the background. His eyes only on Emma, his beautiful wife. He realized again, just what his parents had. It wasn’t about reputations. Love. Love was the reason men made complete fools of themselves, the reason women became ruined.

Although he couldn’t bring his parents back, he could honor their memory by honoring what they’d shared.

Emma twirled around him, setting his blood on fire. The way her hips swayed led his thoughts astray. Just how would she look doing the dance of the gypsies? Ever since she had spoken of her downfall, he’d been curious. Just what did gypsies do with their hips that held men in such a trance?

So, in a moment of brashness, he whispered the question in her ear, nearly sending her to stumble.

Laughing, she leaned in ever so scandalously and whispered, “Shall we go find out?”

He threw his head back and laughed, knowing full well that laughing out loud in the middle of a dance was considered quite vulgar and not at all proper, especially considering he was doing so with his wife. Then, as he felt the curious stares of those around him, he leaned in and kissed his bride, causing the most scandal anyone had seen from the angel duke in his entire lifetime.

The music stopped.

The kissing continued.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He hadn’t a care for the world, or that he was successfully ruining his own reputation in the process. Even though they were married, it simply wasn’t to be done.

Emma jerked away, cheeks blushing. “You’ve just ruined your reputation, you know.”

“Shall we continue to ruin it and shock everyone?”

It was her turn to laugh.

And then a loud voice that sounded strangely like his grandmother’s announced, “Please welcome into our family the Duchess of Tempest, formerly known as Miss Emma Gates.”

Amidst gasps, Sebastian lifted his head to see his grandmother, the now dowager duchess smiling brightly. And then she clapped. One by one, people followed until the entire room erupted into applause.

Including Emma’s shocked parents.

Yes, this would be a night to remember. The night the Duke of Tempest was successfully seduced by Lady Emma Gates.

Epilogue

“Ruined. I can’t believe it.” Emma continued to stare at the Morning Post, willing it to change what was so painfully obvious in black and white print. “Rawlings is ruined.”

“How?” Sebastian asked as he gently laid his hand on Emma’s.

“Too many debtors. Naturally it’s in the gossip column of Mrs. Peabody, but most of what she says is based on actual fact.”

Sebastian nodded sympathetically. “There is nothing we can do for him, love.”

“I know.”

Feeling worried and still a bit guilty that he had known of Rawlings’ trouble for over a month, Sebastian tried to reason with his conscience. There was nothing he could do to help him. Rawlings was too proud to accept money and their friendship was still too fragile.

He only hoped his old friend wouldn’t do anything rash or stupid. Rawlings, although pleased that Sebastian and Emma had found love, was still engaging in gambling. Most likely trying his luck at winning money so he wouldn’t go to debtor’s prison.

Though somewhat selfish, Sebastian realized he had more important things to worry about, like the announcement that his wife was with child.

“How’s the baby?”

“We can’t be sure for another few weeks! Stop jinxing me!” Emma swatted him. But he knew.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“And I you, now help me get ready for the ball.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sebastian mumbled under his breath. Impossible to deny his bride anything, lest she threaten to stop dancing her little gypsy dances for him at night. “Tell me again why we are having this ball?”

Ignoring his whining tone, Emma proceeded to check the decorations that had been set out. “Because as the Duke and Duchess of Tempest it is our duty to invite the ton to our annual party.”

“Even the ones who gave you the cut direct?” Sebastian asked, not surprised at all if his wife also extended the invitation to Rawlings.

“Yes.”

“And your parents?” he asked.

“We shall invite everyone.” Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek. “Now, stop questioning and help.”

“On one condition,” he said, gathering her into his arms.

Emma kicked and laughed as she tried to free herself. “What’s that?”

“Seduce me.”

“Right now?”

“Preferably.”

Emma rolled her eyes then kissed him. Ah, to be seduced by one’s wife. The best of life’s pleasures. Laughing, he pulled her into the study and closed the door. “And if you feel like dancing at any time, please don’t let me stop you.”

At that, his beautiful Emma laughed, and then, she danced.

Renwick House Book 3

The Redemption of Lord Rawlings

Chapter One

London, England

Rain poured in sheets. All of London seemed to have gone indoors while the storm passed—all except Phillip Crawford, eighth Earl of Rawlings. His good sense told him it was childish and stupid to walk around in the rain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. After all, it might just be the last walk he would take as a free man.

Debtor’s prison was his only future. Either that or somehow find a bride who was willing to take on his extravagant debt by marrying him, therefore giving release from the contract given by his arrogant father. At this point prison seemed the more likely choice.

Rawlings had never been a bad investor, had he any money to invest in the first place. His gambling was out of sheer desperation. He needed money and he needed it fast.

At an all time low, he had decided nothing would make him feel better about his lot in life than sitting in the rain and staring at his shoes, which two hours later is exactly what he’d ended up doing.

All alone in Hyde Park, he watched as the raindrops fell slowly and rhythmically on his hessian boots. Drip, drip, drip in rapid succession until he thought he was going mad; he watched.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the smell of the rain, the feel of it on his face as it splashed and rolled across his cheeks down his lips.

The outdoors, he would miss it, he would miss a great many things, but debts must be paid. After all, what did he have to live for?

“Rawlings? Lord Rawlings?” A sweet voice called to him like a siren to Odysseus. “Is that you, my lord?”

He opened one eye and then two. Standing before him was a nymph from the sea. It had to be – nobody in his acquaintance possessed such deeply green eyes or shimmering white hair.

Had he died? Had God struck him with lightning without his knowledge?
“Yes.” He cleared his throat and waited.

The look on the girl’s face would have given a monk an apoplexy. So full of joy, warmth, and hope. He was half-tempted to turn around just to see if she was actually talking to him or someone else entirely. But she had said his name – his name. How in the blazes did she know him?

But before any of those questions could form, she was in front of him and leaning down. “Forgive me.” The last words she said before her lips brushed across his.

About the Author

Rachel loves to read almost as much as she loves to write. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and her dog Sir Winston Churchill. Although she loves to write contemporary romance, her heart will always be with historical and regency romances. Glittering balls and dangerous rakes hold her captivated like chocolate and Starbucks. You can follow Rachel’s adventures on her blog, Twitter, or Facebook.

Also by Rachel Van Dyken:

“It’s a girl, my lady! A fine girl!” the midwife exclaimed, holding out the small bundle in her hands. It seemed nearly impossible she had given birth to such a small and perfect little gift. Obviously, the midwife wanted her to take possession of the child she had laboriously brought into the world.

Without thought, she pulled the bundle to her chest and wept. The salty tears slipped down her cheeks as she mourned all the love that would be lost on her new baby and all the reasons she couldn’t keep her.

“Take her away from me!” Her shriek seemed to bounce off the bare walls of the room.

Hiding her face in her hands, she continued to weep, knowing the situation was completely hopeless. Her aristocratic parents wouldn’t allow the scandal. She knew the only answer lay in giving the child away to distant relatives. If the ton were to discover why she had been sent into hiding, she would be ruined.

The father of the child wanted nothing to do with the baby, even if she did. Hopefully she could convince him to marry her when she went back into London; the season would be starting soon. She closed her heavy eyes and prayed the feeling of loss would leave her.

But it didn’t. There was no way to escape the choices she had made, except to move on with life, and hope the Duke would still find her attractive after a twenty-four hour childbirth. He hadn’t even contacted her—had he even cared for her health at all?

Although young, she wasn’t stupid. He was probably out getting foxed with his friends, while she went through the worst pain imaginable.

It was better this way. Better the infant girl remain in the country. Better she be raised far away from society.

“Her name, miss?” The maid urged softly, looking at her with expectant eyes.

“Sara,” she whispered. “Her name is Sara.”

Chapter One

The English Countryside

Miss Sara Ames had no desire whatsoever to extend a greeting to her Aunt Tilda. Greetings were natural assumptions of welcome, and Sara did not want her aunt to get the wrong impression. She was most certainly not welcome.

Soon enough she would be encouraged to extend said welcome to her aunt, but naturally, she was in no mood to rush the first step into the inferno, as she so delicately thought of the situation. No. She would greet her soon, but not too soon. Not until the time was forced upon her—much like the current situation had been thrust upon her.

At least she could spend these last few hours in solitary lamentation, mourning the life she once dreamed for herself. A life filled with nights sitting by the fireside reading novels. After all, she wasn’t pretty enough for a debut, a fact of which she was reminded daily by her sisters and her mother.

Debuts were reserved for comely, dewy-skinned girls; not ugly girls, as her father had often so delicately put it. She hadn’t even been provided with a dowry. And according to her father, the main reason for that being, “No man in his right mind would take you, even if I offered him the blunt of the ton.” He’d repeated such sentiments to neighbors on many occasions as well, the first time on Sara’s sixteenth birthday, when during the middle of her party he drunkenly announced to all her friends she was worthless..

At least novels provided the escape she desperately needed, a diversion into a world where she felt loved, cherished, and desired—the most scandalous of all the emotions, or so she thought.

Men would never desire her; even her own father despised her for how she looked.

For one thing, she was straight where all the other women had curves. Her skin was dark olive, but that was to be expected when one spent hours contemplating books in the fields. Her lips were too large, her eyes too big, and her nose—well, she didn’t know much about noses, but she figured something had to be wrong with it, too. It always seemed too invisible next to her lush mouth, which her father had often called sinful.

How was it that her sisters were both gifted with angelic faces and soft bodies, while she was cursed with a hard-muscled body and a long mop of black hair? She was nearly convinced her mother had taken a lover of some sort, or at least had an affair while her father was away on business. It was the only explanation for her looks; certainly, her own father must have thought as much as well, because she received the most despised spankings as a child, and allotted the most horrid of all chores.

Her parents meant well, her beautifully gifted sisters often told her, but she had her doubts. As of a few days ago, she accepted her lot in life was to be a spinster; to spend the rest of her days longing for something she’d never had to begin with…love.

“Sara!” Her mother’s impossibly loud voice never ceased to carry for miles on end.

“Coming!” she called, although not at the same decibel. It was nearly impossible to reach the same frequency as her mother on any given occasion. A gift is what her mother called it, but her father called it a curse behind her mother’s back.

Sara reluctantly pushed herself off the ground and walked slowly into the lion’s den. Her fate to be decided by the two most unlikeable people in her existence: her mother and her aunt.

Both eyed her speculatively when she approached them in the garden. Heat encompassed her body while observing her aunt’s disapproving gaze trace her from head to toe. She was used to being criticized. Holding her head high when subjected to rejection had once been a trying chore. Now she did it with ease, her only recourse, as if to say she didn’t care what everyone else thought. Though in her heart of hearts, she always did. Didn’t every girl?

She resolved to always maintain eye contact—to communicate to everyone within distance she accepted the way God created her. The local vicar once told her there were worse things in the world, and sometimes you only see what others want you to see.

Sara had her doubts about the local vicar after that day, yet her faith in God was the only solid thing in her life. She had to trust that possibly, when she went to Heaven, she would turn into a beautiful butterfly, whilst her family rotted in….

“Oh, dear,” her aunt sighed, lifting the teacup to her thin rouged lips. “I just don’t see what you expect me to do. I can’t perform miracles.” Her eyes skimmed quickly over Sara; although, she noticed Aunt Tilda seemed to harbor some tender emotion in them, for she ventured a gentle smile her way before facing Sara’s dreadful mother again. Either that or Sara was losing her mind, which was probably more likely, given the circumstances of her upbringing. One could only tolerate so much verbal abuse before she went to the madhouse, or so she thought.

“Only the good Lord can,” Mother responded, making a quick cross over her chest. Sara rolled her eyes but was quick about it, so she would not be caught. “After her sisters ran off and eloped, I thought to myself we would be ruined. Absolutely ruined. Then I realized I still had one daughter left. One daughter left who can at least try to marry above her station. And why not? Why shouldn’t we have more wealth than what we have? I don’t see why the good Lord would bless others and completely turn his nose up to us.”

“Nor do I,” her aunt agreed, clicking her tongue and then heaved a sigh of resignation. “I shall do as you ask… out of the goodness of my heart.” She rose from her chair and approached Sara, making Sara’s mouth go suddenly dry. “My husband is a Viscount. Unlike your mother, I married within my station, and it suits me well. I shall sponsor your first and only season in London. I shall expect nothing but good manners and graciousness from you. Do you understand, young lady?”

What was she supposed to do? Sit there and nod like a puppet? Sara cleared her throat to protest, but her aunt put a gloved finger in front of her lips.

“Tsk, tsk. You will not be speaking at all until we arrive in London. I have a head ailment which prevents me from listening to whiny, ugly girls for extended periods of time.”

Sara was tired of being insulted. She should be accustomed to it though; it was a daily occurrence, but now it rattled her nerves.

Aunt Tilda shook her head once more. “I don’t know, I just don’t know. I mean, look at her skin. It’s so, so—” Her hand waved in the air as if she would somehow pull the perfect word out of the sky.

“It’s brown, dear,” came Mother’s annoyed voice. “She has straight white teeth though.”

“Ah! Let me see!”  Aunt Tilda grabbed Saras chin and forced open her mouth making her feel like a horse being inspected by a famer. “Oh, yes. I do see. Oh good, very good. We shall have her smile often.”

“And her bosom!” Mother half-jumped out of her seat in a frenzy. “If you’ll just pull back her dress here.” The dress tightened around Sara’s chest furthering her embarrassment. “You see? She really does have a lot to work with.”

Aunt Tilda walked away for a minute, not facing any of the party in the receiving room. “She’ll have to eat much more than you’ve been feeding her.”

Sara took another deep breath; it was like getting sold to the butcher. She closed her eyes, so she could think about her latest book rather than the embarrassing things being said about her.

“She does eat!” her mother bellowed again, hazardously close to Sara’s left ear. She wouldn’t be surprised if she were close to being deaf in both ears. Years of living with her mother had not been good for her health. She winced as her mother yelled again “I know! We’ll just give her more meals and have her eat before bed! If she lies down, it is bound to stay in her belly and make her softer!”

Sara wanted to scream, but she had always been even tempered, always. But even those who are even tempered can be pushed beyond the brink of sanity. If only her sisters hadn’t eloped, leaving their family in utter ruin! What respectable girls elope with twin brothers to Gretna Green? They weren’t even titled for crying out loud! It meant her family had nothing, absolutely nothing. Her two sisters were the only hope for riches, and now they were gone, along with their measly dowries. Nobody would want them now, even if they could get the marriages annulled.

Her thoughts had gotten away with her somehow. Before she knew it, her aunt kissed her mother goodbye, and pushed Sara into a black plush carriage waiting outside.

“Oh, and Sara,” her mother ran toward her, “Aunt Tilda will explain what needs to be done to secure a husband; you listen to everything she says. Do not embarrass us! Your father has, well, he has some debts, dear, and you’re our only hope of securing a man rich enough to take care of us. Do you understand?”

Was that a rhetorical question?

Her mother droned on, “And, dear, I know you are…well, you’re wicked-looking, but if you could please swallow your pride and do whatever it takes, we would be grateful. After all, this is your one and only chance for any sort of affection from another person. And we all desire affection. Even ugly children desire acceptance.”

Hearing enough, she bit her lip to keep from talking. Sara nodded her head and closed the door to the carriage. Her body felt numb. She knew all about emotional rejection; it was her cross to bear, but to be reminded by one’s own mother time and time again was the worst pain imaginable. Turning her head toward the window, she pulled her knees up to her chest and sighed. Aunt Tilda reached across and patted her hand much like a stranger would do to comfort a small child.

“No fear, my girl, I have a grand plan. A plan even you can’t ruin.” She smiled cheerfully before putting a covering over her eyes and going silent, most likely to sleep.

It’s an adventure, it’s an adventure, Sara kept repeating over and over again in her head to keep herself from crying. Being mortified in front of her family because of her looks she could handle, but being humiliated in front of the ton was quite another. “Dear God, if you can do miracles, I ask for one right now. Make me pretty; make me loveable. I don’t care if I let my family down, I just don’t want to feel this way ever again.” The stress of the day overwhelming her, she drifted off to sleep.

Astraea Press

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