Secrets of a Viscount Page 18

  After she’d crossed the threshold, Simon closed the door. “Have you and my mother become bosom friends yet?”

  “She’s my mother, too,” Giles said quietly.

  “Indeed.” Simon walked to a high backed chair and gripped the wooden frame of the back until his knuckles turned white.

  ***

  If it weren’t for his grip on the chair and his own stubborn pride, Simon would have left the room right behind his mother. Talking to Giles wasn’t going to accomplish anything, he knew that now.

  The infuriating man sat in his chair, tapping his foot. “Come to talk?”

  Simon tightened his hold on the back of the chair as a sudden wave of irritation for the man formed inside of him. “You do know why you were invited here, do you not?” The words were out before he could think better of it, but Giles didn’t seem the least bit disturbed.

  “Yes.”

  “Because Mother thinks to right her wrong by finding you a bride?”

  If his words had any effect on Giles, he didn’t show it. “You’re a fortunate man, then.”

  “Me?” Simon jabbed a finger at his chest. “She didn’t invite those young ladies here for me to peruse, they’re here for you.”

  Giles appeared indifferent. “Not interested. Have your pick.”

  “My pick?” He shook his head. “I don’t need a swarm of ladies to choose from. I’ve already found my bride.”

  “She’s taken.”

  Simon frowned. “Yes, by me.”

  “No. She’s Sebastian’s wife.”

  “Was, Lord Belgrave’s wife,” Simon explained as a small pang of sympathy built in his chest. His mother had once briefly explained that Giles had been born with his life chord wrapped around his neck. She’d mentioned that babies born that way either didn’t live long or would face a lifetime of difficulties at the expense of their minds not working right. Giles clearly fell into the second category.

  “Still is,” Giles said flatly.

  “No, they had their marriage annulled. That means they were married, but they’re not any longer.”

  “No, they’re still married.” Giles’ tone would suggest he was just rambling off some random fact that everyone should know.

  Simon narrowed his eyes on his brother. “Did Lord Belgrave tell you this?”

  Giles nodded, sending a new round of emotions swirling through Simon that made his earlier irritation seem like bliss. Anger, rage, disgust and worst of all betrayal hit him like blow after blow to the gut. Isabelle was still married and she was carrying on a flirtation with him? Why? And worst of all, why would she have given him the promise of marriage? To make a fool of him? That would certainly explain her sudden eagerness to be close to him and touch him.

  Bile surged up his throat and filled his mouth. First his mother had lied to him and now Isabelle? Was his entire life a fallacy built on one lie after another?

  His vision blurred and a string of vile words sounded in his head, and perhaps even escaped his lips. Not that he cared one way or another. This was too much. He needed to get away from every liar here and sort this out.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Is your chicken dry?”

  Isabelle started, then blushed. She turned to Giles, her dinner companion and blushed all over again. He obviously noticed she’d been distracted. And if he’d noticed, then she’d been quite obvious.

  She flickered a glance down to him and would have blushed again if it were possible. He was staring right back at her with an intensity in his eyes she’d never seen before.

  “He’s quite smitten.”

  “Who?” She prayed he wouldn’t say Simon because after today, she didn’t know if she’d be able to feign interest much longer. At least not without more motivation from Sebastian. Perhaps he’d kiss her tonight...

  Giles’ harrumph of amusement jarred Isabelle to present.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “You’re smitten, too.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked at the couple across the table, hoping they hadn’t heard him. For there seemed to be only one volume with Giles. He didn’t whisper, and she doubted he’d yell. But his voice was always audible. “And who else do you think is smitten?” she asked more to get his attention off her.

  “Sebastian.”

  Isabelle wanted to laugh. The last thing she’d consider Sebastian to be is smitten. But at least he hadn’t suggested Simon.

  “Tell me, how are you faring with your new relations?” Isabelle asked, taking a sip of her drink. Not that she tasted it. Her mind was far too occupied with Sebastian and the wicked desire to have him kiss her.

  “They’re pleasant.”

  Isabelle offered him a slight smile. “I don’t know them well, I’m afraid, but I’ve known your mother long enough to know that she’s quite genuine. Even if she goes about things in the wrong way. Her motives—and her heart—are good.”

  Giles nodded once. “And Simon?”

  “He means well, too.” She paused and bit her lower lip. “He’s just not sure how to react.”

  Giles appeared as if he didn’t care about her explanation. His expression was blank and he idly tapped his index finger against the edge of his plate, looking just beyond her left shoulder. But she knew he did care; he, too, didn’t know how to show it.

  “Have the two of you talked?” she asked as she looked down the table to see if she could catch Simon’s eye. She hadn’t spotted him in the drawing room before dinner and strangely enough, he wasn’t here, either. “I take it that you have and it didn’t go well.”

  He nodded.

  “Perhaps you should try again tomorrow?”

  Giles shrugged and turned his attention back to his plate as if the designs on the china he was uncovering with each bite were the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen—which was just fine with Isabelle. She’d rather return to her own thoughts, too. Specifically the ones about Sebastian kissing her...

  ***

  Sebastian’s dinner was bland, just as he’d assume the company would be for the gentleman’s port that followed dinner. Therefore, he decided not to go.

  Not that it was that much better pacing the floor of his room until he was certain everyone had gone to bed and he could slip into Belle’s room unnoticed. Desire tightened within him at the thought alone and he checked his pocket watch. It was time.

  A few minutes later, he was standing in his shirtsleeves on her balcony. He peered in the window and his breath caught. She lay on her bed with her belly pressing the mattress and the tops of her luscious breasts spilling out the top of her blue silk nightrail. Her head was propped up on her hands, with her elbows digging into the mattress and her bare feet up behind her with her ankles crossed.

  It was all he could do to open the window without breaking the glass in frustration.

  “Evening, Sebastian,” Belle said when he was inside.

  Sebastian closed the window with a hard swallow. “I take it you were expecting me.”

  “Of course. Who else is willing to give me another flirting lesson?”

  He let his eyes do a slow, thorough sweep of her, fastening for a moment longer than was proper when he’d reached her breasts. “I don’t think you need another.”

  Something akin to disappointment flickered across her face. “Oh?” She dropped her arms and rolled out of bed. “Then if that’s the case, I suppose you’d better go back to your room.” She walked across the room and positioned herself between himself and the window, so close she was just barely touching him, and yet, intensifying his desire for her until he couldn’t stop himself and pulled her to him.

  She felt good, no, not good, perfect, with her full breasts pressed against his chest and her soft belly surrounding his growing erection. “Isabelle,” he breathed, his nostrils filling with her heady scent.

  “Sebastian?” she said on a broken whisper. She licked her plump, red lips, a gesture that only served to excite him more. “A—are you goi
ng to kiss me?”

  That was his undoing. He lowered his head and covered her soft lips with his. Sebastian lifted his free hand to cover her cheek, running the pad of his thumb along the delicate edge of her jawline. He parted his lips and ran his tongue along her bottom lip. She gasped and he deepened their kiss.

  She tasted of ginger. Never before had he thought he’d enjoy the flavor of ginger so much, but he certainly did now. He swept the inside of her cheek, then brushed her tongue with his before he pulled back, panting.

  He stared down at her kiss-swollen lips and immediately closed the gap between them again, capturing her lips in another kiss. This one more passionate that the last. He groaned in satisfaction when she mirrored his actions with her tongue and wound her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into the back of his hair.

  “Sebastian,” she gasped.

  He murmured her name in response, taking his lips from hers and kissed her cheek then down her neck. She lolled her head back, allowing him greater access. But it wasn’t enough. With his lips still on the warm skin of her neck, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her gently atop the mattress.

  Her emerald eyes fluttered open, telling him everything he needed to know: she wanted the same thing.

  ***

  What had started out as a quest for a kiss was quickly becoming so much more as Sebastian positioned himself above her and brought his lips back to hers. His kiss was so much more than she’d ever imagined. She knew it’d be extraordinary and had hoped his one kiss would be enough to sustain her, but she’d never imagined kissing him would be so intoxicating.

  She returned his kiss, praying that her boldness wouldn’t drive him off. His hands covered her shoulders and squeezed them affectionately. She twined her fingers in his silky hair, never wanting this moment to end.

  Sebastian slid his right hand from her shoulder down to her breast. Isabelle gasped. His large hand covered her perfectly, making her breast swell against his palm. He squeezed ever-so-gently and rubbed his thumb on the undercurve. Moving his lips to kiss along her jaw and behind her ear, he dragged his thumb over the hardened crest of her breast. She involuntarily jerked and the wretch did it again, with more pressure this time.

  Sebastian inched his fingers up to grip the thin strap of her nightrail and slowly slipped it off her shoulder. His warm lips followed the same trail, building an excitement in her she didn’t understand. He pressed hot, open mouth kisses across her collarbone and down the valley of her chest, his fingers taking the top of her nightrail down as he went until suddenly her breasts were exposed. Her breath hitched. He’d seen them before, she knew, but this time it was different.

  A small measure of female pride shot through her at the way he swallowed audibly at the sight of her bare breasts.

  “I thought breasts were breasts,” she teased, pushing a lock of his brown hair away from his eyes.

  “Not when they’re yours,” he rasped. He released his grip on her nightrail and brought both of his hands up to cup and caress her breasts.

  She arched her back and he gave them both a gentle squeeze. Her erect nipples pushed against the calluses on his palms. Not taking his hands from her chest, he scattered kisses across the plane of her chest and down her sternum. He slid his left hand down to rest on her ribs with his thumb tucked under her breast and his mouth now moving over her breast. A jolt of excitement passed through her, then another more immediate and powerful when he closed his lips over her nipple. “Sebastian,” she gasped.

  His only response was to flick his tongue over her sensitive peak—making her gasp his name again, a little louder this time.

  He moved to deliver the same delicious torture to her other breast. This time he brought his teeth against her nipple with just a hint of pressure, then soothed it with his tongue. He pulled back. “No, yours are definitely not ordinary.”

  She smiled as best she could and slid her hands down to grasp his shirt. She shouldn’t be the only one half naked, should she? She’d barely pulled his shirttails from his trousers when Sebastian gripped the fabric of his shirt and yanked the offending article off his body, then leaned forward to resume the position he’d once held.

  She playfully pushed at his shoulders. “I think it’s my turn.”

  He groaned, making her grin.

  “Roll over.”

  With a muttered statement she’d never heard before, he obliged.

  Isabelle moved to sit up on her knees and reached for the straps of her nightrail to cover herself.

  Sebastian’s hand caught her wrist. “If I’m to play your game, you can play mine. Leave it.”

  She swallowed and dropped the edge of her nightrail, leaving it to pool around her waist. At his urging, she straddled him about the hips and began her exploration of his chest, noting how his intense gaze on her bare breasts made her skin burn as if there were a small fire in her blood.

  She ran her fingertips over the broad expanse of his chest, tracing each of the lines and contours. She moved to the ridges of his hard abdomen. Under her fingers, his muscles leapt and the further down she moved, the more his breathing grew labored. Something hard pressed her intimate area and she shifted to get more comfortable, eliciting a groan from Sebastian.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not yet,” he choked. “But if you don’t unfasten my trousers, I’ll burst out of them.”

  She lifted a brow then came up on her knees again and walked backward until she’d exposed the placket of his trousers. Biting her lower lip, she traced the hard bulge in his trouser with her index finger until he groaned in frustration and reached down to unfasten his trousers and pull them open.

  A myriad of emotions overcame her, and she reached tentative hands toward his erection. Closing her hand around it, she marveled at the contradiction that one body part seemed to be. Both hard and yet, soft. She tightened her hold and slid her hand down to the base, then back to the tip.

  Sebastian closed his eyes, his face contorted as if he were in pain.

  She immediately let go.

  His eyes snapped open. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t,” he rasped. “You’re killing me...but in a good way.”

  “Then I should continue?”

  He nodded and reached for her hand, bringing it back to his erection, then guided her hand up and down his shaft.

  After a minute he loosened his grasp, then let go, letting her move at her pace. She watched as a bead of liquid formed along the slit in his tip. He encircled her wrist, stopping her.

  “You’d better stop.” Then in one swift motion, he had her on her back and was dragging his hands and mouth all over her naked flesh—caressing here, squeezing there and kissing and licking everywhere in between, making her blood simmer all over again.

  He took hold of the nightrail she wore around her waist and bunched the fabric up around her stomach, exposing her most intimate area to his gaze if he were to look. And he did. Of course.

  He trailed a slow finger down the middle of her curly nest of hairs and into the delicate folds underneath. She sucked in a harsh breath. Nobody had ever touched her there. Ever. Nor had she ever imagined anyone would, but he did and it felt...felt... She couldn’t explain it. Not when his strong fingers were touching her thus.

  Sebastian brought his mouth to her breast and moved his finger to her opening, making her jump and let out a little squeal.

  “Shhh,” he crooned, tracing his finger around the edge of her channel. “When we get home you can be as noisy as you want, but this time—”

  Whatever it was he said, was lost to Isabelle over the blood roaring in her ears. When we get home? Was that his proposal? Or did he just mean to make her his mistress until she found a husband? Uncertainty warred with waning desire. “Sebastian?”

  “Hmmm,” he said as he swirled his tongue around her nipple and mimicked the action below.

  “Sebastian,” she
repeated. She closed her legs together, trapping his hand where it was and keeping him from pressing inside her.

  He didn’t seem to notice and just moved to the other breast as easy as you please.

  Isabelle brought her hands to his shoulders and gave him a slight shove. “Sebastian, stop.”

  He pulled away, his wide brown eyes, dark and full of heated desire. “Is something wrong?”

  “What did you mean?”

  He blinked. “When?”

  “Just a moment ago when you mentioned when we get home, what did you mean?”

  “Just that. When we get back to London and you’re in my bed, you can make as much noise as you’d like. But it’d be best if we didn’t bring attention to ourselves here or we’ll have a scandal.”

  “Your bed,” she repeated, a thrill of excitement shooting through her. “A-are you proposing?”

  He chuckled and leaned forward to drop a single kiss between her breasts. “No.”

  A hostile wave of understanding came over her, bringing a sense of shame and coldness she’d never experienced before. She suddenly was mortified to be lying half naked in front of him and covered her breasts as best she could with her hands.

  “Don’t cover yourself,” he murmured, reaching for her hand.

  She recoiled. “You may go.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I won’t be your mistress.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.”

  “No, you just assumed that I would. Which is worse.”

  He shook his head. “I never said that, either.”

  “You didn’t have to. You said you weren’t proposing. That can only leave one option: you expected me to be your mistress.” She inclined her chin. “And I will not.”

  “Are you saying you would say yes if I were to propose marriage?”

  She blushed. “I might.”

  “I see.” Sebastian nodded slowly and idly ran his fingertips over the skin of her abdomen. “And what would you say if I told you that we were still married?”