A Little Bit Sinful (18 page)

She had touched a nerve that hit not just a physical need, but an emotional one. Their kisses left him feeling a bit uncontrolled and adrift, rather like the boat he had rescued at the garden party the other day for the young lad. Sebastian had set himself on this course with Eleanor, but the current of passion had pulled him in an entirely different direction.

Even when she elected to spar with him, as she did more often than not, he found her company stimulating. And he was shocked to realize how charmed he was by her. Her quick wit, her intelligent reflections, her open desire.

He was trying his best to ignore these emotions. She was the daughter of his enemy, a man who had caused his mother’s death, he reminded himself sternly, yet he was finding that he needed to push himself to take advantage of her vulnerability.
Hell-fire and damnation, this is not the time to be developing a conscience. There will be no second thoughts about what I am planning.

“You should return to the ballroom before you are missed,” Sebastian said with deceptive casual-ness. “We can continue this discussion tomorrow evening. Are you attending the Tauntons’ ball?”

“I believe so,” she said softly.

“Excellent. Their library is even more impressive than this one and located in a separate wing from the ballroom. Meet me there at eleven o’clock. Be discreet when you leave the party and be sure to allow
yourself plenty of time to find it. The mansion is massive. If you get lost, ask a servant for directions.”

Sebastian paused to observe the results of his dictate.

Eleanor’s dreamy, well-kissed look was gone. The alert, wary expression was back on her face, but her eyes were not filled with their usual sensible determination. Instead she appeared to be considering his words carefully.

Deciding he needed to add a touch more enticement, Sebastian lowered his head for another kiss. Framing her face with his hands, he took possession of her lips with smoldering demand, sipping fully the honey sweetness.

It was difficult to pull away. Torturous, really. When he kissed her it was impossible not to want more, not to take more. But this wasn’t the time or place. With one final dart of his tongue he broke away, the harsh, uneven breaths bellowing from his lungs echoing through the cavernous room.

Eleanor swayed unsteadily in his arms and he held her upright, but only until he felt certain she could stand on her own. He noted with satisfaction that the wide-eyed, slightly dazed expression was back on her face.

“Until tomorrow, Eleanor. Don’t forget, eleven o’clock in the library. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Giving her no time to respond, Sebastian gently turned her around and nudged her out the door. The moment she cleared the doorway, he shut it quickly, lest he be tempted to pull her back inside.

* * *

I won’t go. Of course I won’t go. ‘Tis inappropriate. Scandalous. Foolish beyond measure.

Those thoughts repeated themselves over and over in Eleanor’s head throughout the day, growing louder as she prepared to attend the Tauntons’ ball.

“You’ve altered the neckline on the blue silk,” Bianca commented when Eleanor descended the staircase. “Very daring.”

“Is it too provocative?” Eleanor asked, nervously checking the hallway mirror. The bodice was tightly fitted and far lower than any other garment she had worn. The round tops of her bosom were prettily exposed and the sophistication of the dress gave her fledgling confidence a boost.

“Women of a certain age can dress however they please, because no one notices,” the earl said impatiently. “It only matters that Bianca look appropriately beautiful and innocent. And she does.”

“Eleanor also looks lovely, Papa,” Bianca said loyally, but the earl had already donned his coat and gone outside.

It was an unfortunate circumstance that the earl had unexpectedly elected to escort them to the ball this evening. His presence soured Eleanor’s mood, but her father’s criticism was soon forgotten when they arrived at the party.

Her eyes anxiously searched the crowds while she chatted amicably with their hosts. Her mind scarcely registered the conversation, for she was trying her best not to appear as though she was waiting for Sebastian.

She found herself missing him today. Especially during the afternoon social calls when Bianca had been surrounded by her usual bevy of admirers. As
Eleanor observed these gentlemen, she realized that Sebastian probably knew most of them. His opinion of their character and circumstances would be invaluable. If only he were there to ask.

But alas, the viscount did not call. He had in fact never called. Visiting a lady one admired was the usual, socially acceptable way to conduct a courtship and the viscount’s absence caused a few moments of worry for Eleanor. Worry that she quickly dismissed. Sebastian was not like other gentlemen; she should hardly be surprised he refused to act in a similar manner.

“By any happy circumstance are you free for this dance, Lady Eleanor?”

Eleanor turned sharply and met the smiling eyes of Peter Dawson. “How very kind of you to ask.”

She took the hand he offered. It was solid and warm and she grasped it tightly as he led her toward the lines that were forming for the dance.

She smiled at him as they joined hands and began, starting a pleasant conversation that continued each time the patterns of the dance brought them together. Eleanor remembered he was a particular friend of the viscount and though she longed to ask about Sebastian, she restrained herself.

Mr. Dawson was an excellent dancer. He was light on his feet, careful of her toes, and possessed a natural rhythm that made it easy for her to follow. Somehow she managed to chat and laugh, though she would have enjoyed herself far more if she had not been so preoccupied.

Mr. Dawson escorted her off the dance floor when the set ended and remained to continue their
conversation. A uniform gasp of delight was heard when the orchestra began the notes for the first waltz of the evening. Eleanor turned her head to glance at the couples gathering on the dance floor when she spied Sebastian standing near the French doors, talking to Lord Atwood.

Gracious!
Eleanor’s heart sped up and she struggled to control her expression. She waited for him to turn and see her, and when he did his smile was so broad and welcoming her knees felt weak. Willpower alone kept her from rushing across the room to greet him.

“Punch?”

“Pardon?” She broke away from Sebastian’s hypnotic stare and turned back to Mr. Dawson.

“You seem rather flushed, Lady Eleanor. I was wondering if you would like some punch to cool down.”

“Yes, thank you. That would be delightful.”

“Good evening, Lady Eleanor.”

Oh my!
Eleanor nearly jumped out of her skin she was so startled.
How had he managed to walk all the way across the room without her noticing?
“My lord.” She curtsied.

“Sebastian,” he reminded her with a wicked grin.

“Only when we are in private together,” she hissed.

“May I say you look exceptionally fetching this evening. Blue is your color, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Pink stole into her cheeks as she felt certain he was staring at her cleavage.

“Benton, good to see you.” Mr. Dawson handed Eleanor her glass of punch and shook hands with the viscount. She expected one of the two men to
leave but they settled in for a comfortable chat, making any private word with Sebastian impossible.

“Tell me, have you read any good books lately, Lady Eleanor?” Sebastian asked innocently. “I was recently in a library and several volumes caught my eye.”

She met his gaze straight on in silent warning, yet his grin never faltered. “As a matter of fact I just finished
Ivanhoe,
by Sir Walter Scott,” she answered. “It was highly entertaining, though one of my favorite historical pieces is
Le Morte d’Arthur.”

“Sir Thomas Malory’s tome?” Sebastian inquired.

“Do you know it?”

“Very well. Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t spend all my waking hours drinking, gambling, chasing women, and generally being a disgraceful rake.”

“That’s news to me,” Mr. Dawson interjected with a teasing smile. “Oh, and you left out swimming naked in fountains.”

Sebastian gave his friend a withering stare. “Legends are indeed a fascinating subject for a novel and none more so than the rise and fall of a powerful kingdom. Yet I cannot fully embrace a story that ends with the death of the king, the queen in a nunnery, and the hero knight a monk.”

“I confess to liking the violence and bloodshed,” Mr. Dawson admitted sheepishly. “‘Tis a darn good adventure.”

“True, but there is so much more than adventure. Arthur and his knights continually try to live up to their chivalric codes,” Eleanor said. “Even though they usually fail.”

“I shall venture a guess that Sir Lancelot Du Lac is your favorite character, Lady Eleanor,” Sebastian remarked with a faint smile.

“Well, he is Arthur’s most revered knight,” Eleanor defended. “He assists damsels in distress and provides mercy for knights he has defeated in battle.”

“But he is a flawed knight,” Sebastian exclaimed. “His devotion to Guinevere shifts from courtly love to adultery, which leads to his ultimate ruin and Arthur’s death.”

“Guinevere is so contemptible it is difficult to understand Lancelot’s reason for loving her.” Eleanor shook her head. “Still, he wanted what he couldn’t have, what was just beyond his reach. Is that not human nature?”

“The very essence of it, I believe. Don’t you agree, Dawson?”

“I do. And with that said, I must go. I’ve promised this dance to Miss Hamilton. I had best go and find her. Excuse me. Lady Eleanor. Benton.”

And then he was gone.

“Regretfully, I too have a partner for this set,” Sebastian said.

Who? Eleanor nearly asked, biting her tongue to keep the question from escaping. “Pray, don’t let me keep you, my lord.”

He chuckled softly, the wicked gleam back in his eyes. “Sebastian,” he whispered. “Eleven o’clock. Don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m not a particularly patient man, Eleanor.”

And then he too was gone.

As he walked away Eleanor felt a pang of jealousy.
He hadn’t asked
her
to dance. But then she saw the viscount escort a woman twice his age onto the dance floor and a breath of relief shuddered through her.

Eleanor strolled along the edge of the ballroom, carefully avoiding making further eye contact with Sebastian. She also avoided the earl, who instead of heading toward the card room as he usually did, took to the dance floor with various young women.

The hours moved with painful slowness. Eleanor kept a chaperone’s eye on Bianca, conversed with the other guests, partook of a few refreshments, all the while telling herself she could not possibly be so brazen as to keep this assignation.

Yet when the clock reached the appropriate hour, Eleanor found herself wandering through the labyrinth of hallways, following the complicated directions to the library given to her by a young footman.

By necessity, her relationship with John Tanner had been clandestine. The chasm of their social class, not to mention the fact that he was employed by her father, dictated that circumstance.

Yet this time, Eleanor told herself, she was not dealing with a young man caught in the throes of love. She was dealing with a practiced rake, an artisan of seduction. That fact alone should have deterred her from keeping this rendezvous, should have touched the practical, sensible side of her nature. Truly, her actions defied all rational thought.

Eleanor stood before the door for a full minute. It would not do for the viscount to see her so eager
and harried. She needed to maintain some degree of self-respect.

She patted a stray curl, laughing nervously at her own ridiculous notion. Then, taking a deep breath, she reached for the brass knob and slowly opened the library door.

The room was empty.

Eleanor blinked, taking in every corner of the vast room. Sebastian had not exaggerated. The Tauntons’ library was twice the size of any other she had ever seen, with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. She had to stretch her neck as far back as it would go to see the top shelves.

In one corner of the room was a spiral staircase. Made of decorative wrought iron, it twisted upward seven feet, leading to a narrow walkway, also made of wrought iron. Eleanor realized that was the only way one would have access to the books shelved on the very top rows.

It was an ingenious design that would have fascinated her under different circumstances. She walked farther into the room, her pulse leaping as she confirmed she was alone, with only the crackling fire and a few burning candles to keep her company.

A fluttering panic erupted inside her, leaving a
sick feeling in her stomach. Why hadn’t he come? Was he teasing her? Jesting with her?

Lightheaded and trembling, Eleanor sank down on a leather wingback chair.
What am I doing here?

The door suddenly opened. Eleanor’s head jerked up and her stomach bottomed out. Every nerve in her body prickled with awareness. He had come!

“Damn, I’m late.” Sebastian hurried forward. “Forgive me. Lady Agatha was slightly out of breath at the end of our dance. It was necessary to find a chair for her to sit upon and rest and then locate someone to watch over her before I could leave.”

“You should have greater care when selecting your partners,” Eleanor replied, relieved to hear her voice sounded much calmer than she felt.

“Limiting my dancing to women under sixty is sage advice, yet they so enjoy the attention. I fear there would be many hurt feelings if I suddenly stopped.” He smiled and extended his hand toward her.

Eleanor hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. At the touch of his warm fingers, a sensation unfurled deep inside her. He pulled her to her feet abruptly, catching and holding her within the circle of his arms.

“Hello there,” he said in a deep, measured voice.

His eyes were blazing with fire. It should have been stilted, awkward, but instead it felt easy, comfortable.