Sebastian pushed his horse hard to beat the looming storm. He didn’t care if he woke the entire household in Exford. He would be seeing Rebecca that night. Unfortunately, his mount had lost a shoe and had had to be reshod which meant he wouldn’t reach the coast until well after dark. Serena would vouch for him. Barrett too. But what if he was too late. What if she had already departed?
Sebastian cantered up to the front of the Rivers’ house and jumped off his horse before coming to a full stop. Curiously, lights filled every window on the lower level, reassuring him. He dashed up to the door and pounded with both fists like an escapee from Bedlam.
An aging butler opened the door, his face impassive. “Might I be of some assistance?”
“I'm here to see Rebecca, er, Lady Rebecca.” His composure had apparently deserted him somewhere around his passing of The Hanging Moss Inn. He’d had the idiotic notion Rebecca may have stopped. But the innkeepers, though delighted to see him, had asked after his duchess, revealing Rebecca had not suffered his same sentimentality.
The butler raised one brow. “I beg your pardon?”
Sebastian garnered his ducal cloak. “I'm here to see lady Rebecca. Please inform her the Duke of Riley, her husband awaits her.”
“Of course. Come in, Your Grace. You may wait for her in the parlour. I shall let her know once she returns.”
He was too late. “She's left? For Scotland?” His voice came out a painful rasp.
The butler smiled then. “No, Your Grace. She is out on one of her walks.”
His words had Sebastian slowly counting his breath as he inhaled. “Did you say one of her walks? But it's after midnight,” he sputtered after a full minute.
The man was unperturbable. “Such is the case, but I repeat, she is out. As I said, you may wait in the parlor or leave your card. I don't anticipate she will be longer than a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours!” He let out a stream of epitaphs. “I shall find her myself. Where did she go?”
The butler eyed him dubiously, then glanced out the door and eyed the moving clouds. “It looks as if it might rain. I suggest you check the caves. They are located near the channel.”
“The channel?” This just got better and better
“Perhaps you’ll be so kind as to send Barrett back when you locate her.”
Sebastian stormed out the door. The scent of sea water hit him, and he ran. Ten straight minutes is what it took before Barrett stopped him on a well-worn path. Sebastian bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavy. “Where is she?”
“Locating the perfect spot,” he whispered.
“You may return to the house. I’ll look after her from here.” Sebastian worked his way to the edge of the trees.
There she was, perched on a flat boulder with her face raised to the sharp wind coming off the water. A hint of lavender touched him. He glanced up at the clouds covering a moon outlined in silver, silhouetting the delicacy of her profile. His arms ached for her, his mouth yearned for her taste.
“It's not like you to be so noisy, Barrett. I did not ask for your company. I wished to be alone.”
Sebastian moved out into the open. “I'm not Barrett.”
Her stiffened spine was the only sign he’d surprised her. “What do you want?”
“You.”
She scoffed. “Well, I don’t want you.”
He sidled up next to her. “No?” he said softly. He took her hand. For once it was gloveless. He ran his fingertip lightly over the newly scabbed wound. He lifted it to his lips. “I’m sure you’ve wondered on occasion why I’m so…”
“Domineering? Overly cautious? Driven to perfection?”
“As horrid as that, am I?” He lowered her hand but retained possession. At least this way, she couldn’t affect one of her timely exits. He looked out over the churning water. “I was twelve when my friend fell from the rooftop at school.”
Rebecca’s gasp barely registered. “How did he fall?”
“We were on the battlement, exactly where we were explicitly told not to go.”
“You couldn’t keep him from going and you followed, didn’t you? I knew it. Even at the age of twelve, you acted the hero.”
“Quite perceptive of you.” He smiled a grim smile and breathed the salt air in deeply. “Not quite. A dare was issued.”
“Ah, I see. It was a matter of honor.”
“Yes. The dare was to go up and not get caught by the headmaster. Only Damian Bellamy took a notion to walk on the edge and fell to his death.” Squeezing his eyes tight did not keep the image of Damian’s broken body out.
“How terrible for you,” she said softly.
But she hadn’t heard the worst of it.
“I was devastated, of course. My father was sent for. Not a single word was uttered the entire ride home to Dorchester.” He swallowed hard. “I was sent to my chamber. My sisters were not allowed to visit me. There were only two at that time: Rose and Claire.”
“They kept your siblings from you? As punishment?” Her hand turned up and was clutching his.
“When my father finally sent for me, my mother was there, crying into her handkerchief. Just quiet tears of disappointment. They blamed me, and rightly so—”
“That’s not true. They had no right to blame you. Damian Bellamy was responsible for his own actions. Just like Gabby was responsible for hers.” She spoke firmly. Earnestly. Harshly enough to jar his attention from the past. “We cannot control the actions of others, Sebastian.” She’d turned, facing him, and was gripping his hands with both of hers. “It was not your fault. I suspect you couldn’t keep him from the dare and wanted to keep him safe.”
Sebastian dragged his gaze from the water. Despite her shadowed features, her voice was fierce
This is what came over her when those she vowed to protect went up against much stronger forces. In that instant, she was seeing him as the child he’d been: one less powerful than his father. A ruthless father to use Sebastian’s sisters and others he cared for as punishment. Rebecca would see it that way, when she hadn’t any of her own. This was an egregious crime in her eyes.
“Oh, Sebastian.”
“Am I so unfixable, Lady Rebecca?”
Bitter laughter erupted from her as she removed her hands from him and turned her own gaze out to sea. “About as unfixable as me,” she said.
“That’s not possible.” He wanted nothing more than to take her back into his arms. Go back to that night in the inn when he’d taken her in every way but the traditional one.
“I’m much like you, I fear.”
“Controlling, perhaps. Overly cautious? Not in the least. I would call it daring and impulsive. Perhaps driven to fits, but not to perfection. You are driven to protecting those who need your strength.” He wanted to take her hand, but he restrained himself. “Were you always that way? I heard you talking to Percy—Owen.”
The tension around her mouth eased. She was smiling, inside he believed. “You heard me telling him about Miss Velinda?”
“That’s right. That was her name. Miss Velinda.”
“She was my nursemaid from the time I was born. Up until I was seven or eight. My mother perished in childbirth having me, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Miss Velinda was wonderful. I used to dream of her and Papa marrying and having a horde of other children. But, alas, Papa can be quite the elitist.”
“That surprises me,” he murmured.
“Does it?” Her gaze shot to him, then dropped to her hands. “It was a beautiful day. She—Miss Velinda thought a day of botany would suit our educational purposes because of the excellent weather. There’s a creek that runs down, some ways from the back of the house. It’s closer to the village. I ran ahead of her to the creek and began picking flowers. I didn’t hear anything at first.” Her voice had dropped to just above a whisper, almost a part of the wind. “When the noises finally began to penetrate, I was beset by a chilled premonition.”
She stopped and Sebastian wanted to beg her to not go on.
“Strange, isn’t it, for a child of seven to be clairvoyant?” she said.
“I don’t think so. We should all follow our instincts. They are sometimes the only thing that sets us between life and death.”
She turned quickly, just as the clouds moved to expose the silver moon. Surprise glinted in her widened eyes. “Yes. I do believe you’re right. That was exactly what happened. It was probably what kept me from calling out. I crept back and saw her being attacked. By three men.”
He took her hand then. It was ice cold.
“For the longest time, I was frozen to the spot, but there was a noise that startled me, and I ran. I couldn’t get to the house. To do so, I would have to pass them. So, I ran to the village. By the time I brought help, they were gone.”
“And, Miss Velinda?”
“She was never the same, of course. Neither physically nor emotionally. Papa wanted to turn her out.” Her fingers squeezed into a fist. “But I refused to allow him to dictate such a horrible injustice. It wasn’t Miss Velinda’s fault that she was hurt.” She huddled deeper within her coat. “Anytime he raised the notion, I threw a tantrum for the ages. I cared for her myself.” Tears dampened her cheeks he doubted she felt.
He slipped an arm around her pulling her into his heat.
The actions of a warrior explained.
“I need you, you know. I need your impulsiveness to offset my overly cautious staidness. You need me too. I’m the one who will give you cause to think.”
“Think?” He could hear the frown in her tone.
There was a primal element in the air the weather stirred in him that reached deep. “Perhaps give you pause when you think of your husband and future children.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t have a husband.”
“I’m hoping you’ll change your mind.”
“And why would I do that?” All right, she wasn’t quite where he was.
“Because it is in your nature to save those less powerless than you.”
Her laughter caught on the wind and rivaled the waves hitting the shore below. “You are not powerless. You are the definition of “not powerless,” Your Grace.”
“You wound me, Your Grace.”
She spun away from him or attempted to. His hands still held hers. “I am not Your Grace, Your Grace. I champion women and children.” Her huff of frustration was lost in the wind.
“Don’t forget about dogs,” he reminded her mildly. He moved his hands lightly to her waist.
“And dogs. But I do not marry them.”
He smoothed the tips of his fingers to the base of her spine. She didn’t appear to notice. “Do you love them?”
She went on a rant. “Love! What has love ever done for me?”
He lowered his nose to her neck and breathed her in. “Did Miss Velinda not return your regard, my darling?”
There was a catch in her breath. “Yes,” she whispered. “I think she loved me very much.”
“And your father. I think your father loves you greatly.”
“Yes, Papa loves me. H-he’s just absentminded.” She shivered under his touch.
“Not so absentminded to call me out for hurting you.”
“He called you out?”
His hands crept up the back of her frock beneath the large cloak enveloping her and worked the buttons free with deft fingers. He rested his lips at the pulse throbbing on her neck, then lowered to the skin above her loosened bodice. “I turned him down, of course.” He licked her skin and was gratified to feel her hands clutching the front of his waistcoat.
Her breath grew more erratic.
“I love you,” he said, surprised at the huskiness of his tone. “I find I don’t wish to live without you. You invigorate my somber, overly restrained existence.” Sebastian’s heart pounded. “Will you marry me?” he asked. He sensed her unease. She started to rise, but he firmly resettled her against him.
“No.”
“Why not?” He took her chin and forced her meet his eyes. They reflected the pewter in the moon’s light until another cloud passed over, turning her into a dark shroud. “Why not marry me?”
She struggled against his hold, and after a minute, he did release her and watched as she moved to the edge of the cliff.
“I’m waiting.” There was steel beneath his implacable calm.
“I’m leaving for Scotland. In the morning.”
“Like hell you are.” He was on his feet and whipping her back from the edge.
“I’m not the duchess you require,” she bit out.
“You’re the only duchess I require.” He was furious. He somehow kept from tossing her over the cliff, tempting as it was.
She broke his hold and moved out of his reach. A sudden gale tore at her loosed frock. She faced him, using one hand to hold up her gown. “Sebastian, be reasonable.”
The moon reappeared, the clouds moving off completely. It was large and white and round. And looked close enough to touch. She held out her left arm. Both wounds glowed brilliantly beneath the sudden illumination. Anger riddled her expression. “What do you think your cronies will think of these? You precious reputation will be obliterated.” All the panic, fear, and dread she must have staved off for years crashed any semblance of her remaining reserve. “Don’t you understand?” Her control crumbled into a heap of dust. “I can’t do that to you.” She was screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice breaking between her words.
His heart was smashing to bits and scattering on the wind. She shivered violently until her knees buckled beneath her, and she slid to the ground.
Sebastian prowled in her direction until he was at her side. “I asked you a question.” He applied his most ducal hauteur. The one that brooked no argument.
Tears streamed down her face, the sight breaking his insides. But he could not afford the cost of softening at this moment. She shivered violently, propelling him to wrap her in a hold and vowing to never let go.
“Is it because you must champion a cause so desperately that you must invent one?” he said heartlessly. “Is it due to some sort of disjointed sense of chivalry that you’re inclined to save me from myself? Or is it because you love me?” He pelted her with his questions, one after another.
“Yes,” she screamed. “Yes.” Softer. “Yes,” she whispered, her body shaking with her sobs. “Yes. Yes. I love you.”
He buried his nose in her hair. “Thank God,” he whispered. “Thank God.” He moved his hand to her skirts, fighting to reach one stocking-clad leg. There was no stocking. He groaned. “You’re barely dressed,” he rasped out. His hand touched her heated center, and he pressed his thumb against jeweled core of her.
“That’s hardly my fault.” Her voice rose to a breathless squeal.
“True,” he growled. His lips moved back to hers, stopping short of touching. “So, you’ll marry me?”
He could feel her tremoring, her breath heating his chest, in rapid intakes, her hesitation, killing him.
“Perhaps.”
Her response hurt. But he suspected, he’d hurt her worse. He couldn’t force her, nor could he relinquish her. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to just inside of the trees. He set her on her feet and unfastened the oversized cloak. He fanned it out then spread it on the ground. It landed with a curious thud. He snatched her hand and lowered to the ground, bringing her with him.
He cupped her head and slid his fingers up through her hair, sending pins scattering, and crashed his mouth over hers. The contrast of the sharp air to the warmth of her skin set a force of need surging through him. There was nothing sweet or gentle about his kiss or her response to it. To him. It was all raw sensuality. It was all about her and that ignited his nerve endings.
Savage intensity roared through his blood. His tongue dueled with hers in a war dance worthy of the indigenous peoples he’d heard tales of in the colonies. The control he so proudly possessed scattered on the briny breeze. She angled her head and he delved deeper, devouring her softness, wondering how he could have possibly believed he could live without her.
Heat soaring between them amplified the scent of her. He leaned back and ripped the flap from his breeches. He pushed her to her back and raised over her. His cock strained toward her.
Her hand flattened against his waistcoat. “Wait.” She hadn’t spoken loudly, but the word blared at him.
On shaking forearms, he stilled above her, shocked at his regimented mastery. It deserved a medal on par with his one received from the Admiralty.
“I should, er, like to, er…”
The clouds shifted back over the moon, shielding her features, but he was filled with a sudden lightness. “To touch?” His voice strained.
“Well, to be frank, yes.” Her bluntness sent a shot of fired excitement through his blood. It was something to be respected… explored.
He fell next to her on his back. He croaked out a laugh in ragged pants. “Please,” he invited. “As you can see, I’ve taken the liberty of dispersing with the buttons on my breeches.”
The bottom of his shirt flapped in the wind, cool against the heat of his skin. If he was ever cold again, he would think of this very moment. Her hand lay gently against his abdomen, all fire, sliding up beneath his waistcoat.
“Your skin is smooth,” she said. “Do married people always do this with their clothes on?”
“I hope not,” he returned.
Her fingertips brushed the flats of his nipples and his chest rumbled with stark hunger. “I think I would like to dispel with clothes for activities such as these,” she murmured.
He let out a low moan and ripped open his waistcoat and jerked at his cravat, nearly strangling himself.
“Let me help.” Her very calmness almost sent him into a fit of vapors. But then those cool fingers wrapped his length and she gasped.
“Rebecca,” he groaned.
Velvet lips touched his stomach. Her nose tickled his skin, the tip of her tongue raised bumps. “Did I hear you say that you loved me, Your Grace?” She lifted her head. Her hair teased his skin, and she tested her hold on him, cupping his ballocks. His hips lifted from the ground.
“Yes.” His growl turned into a gravelly sound he didn’t recognize.
She released her hold on him and launched a whispery attacked with a single fingertip along the length of him, then down. “Do women do to men with their mouths what you did to me?”
“Not respectably,” he choked out.
“I’ve never been considered all that respectable,” she said.
He lifted, resting back on his elbows, to see her shadowy image leaning low over him. The swipe of her tongue lashed against the tip of his cock.
She glanced up at him, her teeth flashing in the gloom. “It doesn’t look as if it would fit, Your Grace.”
The time for laughter had passed. “Oh, it will fit,” he bit out, grabbing and pulling her across him. “Pull up your skirts.”
“W-what.”
“Do it.”
Slowly, she did as he commanded.
“Straddle me.”
“Straddle you?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Rebecca. Put one leg on the other side of my hips.” The raging inferno of her core engulfed him. “Now lower your body to mine. Just rub yourself against me. You feel how wet you are?”
“Y-yes.”
“This is a good thing. It will help in easing the way.” He was panting. Thankfully, she was as well. “I can feel you throbbing against me. I’m going to touch you now, darling. Don’t be frightened.”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“That’s it. Back and forth.” He eased his finger to the apex of her curls and pressed.
Her rapid pants quickened, and her body shuddered over his with her quick release, but he was far from done.
“Keep going, back farther. Now forward. Lift, just a little.” His cock followed her movements as if it were a magnetic force. She moved back and he used his hand to adjust his cock. “That’s it, darling. Bring me your heat. Lower your body, slowly now. The first time can hurt.” Of course, it was her first time. But would he care? No. She was worth all the tea in England. The sugar in Barbados. The land in America. He gripped her hips to guide her. “Breathe, darling.” And forced himself to do the same. Perspiration gathered above his lip and along his hairline. His thumb migrated back to the apex and her body swallowed his cock, halting at the barrier.
“Sebastian?” Panic etched her voice.
“It’s all right, love. It’s all right.”
She lifted slightly.
“I love you, Rebecca.”
His words startled her, and she slipped, coming down hard. She drew in a sharp intake.
He froze, holding her hips in place. He throbbed within her, and he quelled the instinctive urge to move.
“I-I think I’m a-all right,” she said on a shaky breath. “I just need to—” She moved.
“Oh, God.” He flipped her to her back and drove hard and deep. Three strokes and he was ready to howl at the moonlit clouds. His mouth covered hers, his tongue following hers in a furious chase as he grinded against the top of her sex. “Come with me, darling.”
“Harder,” she whispered. “Harder. Sebastian…” Her voice trailed in a high-pitched squeal just as the brilliant lights exploded behind his eyes.
The velvet enclosure sheathing his pulsing cock beat in ancient rhythm with the rise and fall of her chest.
He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder as he sprawled across her.
“If we were to marry,” she breathed against his sweat-damped chest, “is this something you would require often?”
“Not if,” he growled against the column of her neck. “When.” True to his risk-averse nature, he offered a carefully crafted answer. “Perhaps I wouldn’t require it, but I would certainly desire it.” He shifted off her and tugged at the cloak beneath them. “What the devil is under this coat?”
“My dagger, I expect. It’s in one of the pockets.”
He sat up and dug around and found the offending protrusion. He tugged it out and held it up. “This is not a dagger,” he said.
She rose too. “Oh, that. It’s a catapulting device. The dagger is in the other pocket.”
He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. “You didn’t answer my question.”
She rubbed her nose against his chest like a kitten, curling up for a nap. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Sebastian. How can I not, when I love you so dreadfully much?”
She said yes. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. “Well, I shall great take pleasure in changing your ‘so dreadfully much’ to ‘so very much,’ Your future Grace.” And he slanted his mouth over hers again.