quite what to do now. I know I am English, that this is meant to be my home, yet—’
She broke off, unsure of what she was saying. These were thoughts she had kept pressed down so hard, not even daring to think them to herself. Her father had enough to worry about—what with losing her beloved mother and the vital importance of his work, he couldn’t worry about her, too.
Yet the strangeness of being back in England, the lonely moments—how could anyone understand?
But it seemed that, of all people, the handsome Sebastian Barrett did understand. His smile widened, a gorgeous white flash in the shadows, and he nodded. ‘It’s as if everyone here was speaking a foreign language, one I can only decipher on the surface and speak well enough to play my part passably.’
Mary was fascinated. He was the hero of society! How could he be lost? Yet she could see the dark gleam in his eye. ‘What part is that, Lord Sebastian?’
He leaned his forearms on the marble balustrade and stared out at the dark garden. ‘Oh, we all have our parts here, don’t you agree, Miss Manning? Most people have played them so long they can’t even look past them any longer. They have become what they are meant to be. When I was with my regiment, I felt that sense of rightness, that sense that I knew my duty and could carry it out well. It was a feeling everyone should have at some time in their lives, even though it might mean others then carry far too many expectations. But some of us do wonder what it would be like to float among the stars and just be, as you say.’
‘Free to find our real selves?’ Mary thought that a most astonishing, and delightful, idea. She longed to know more of his life in the Army, more of what that feeling of ‘rightness’ could entail.
‘What would you do, then, Miss Manning?’
She studied him in the half-light, the sculpted angles of his handsome face, then glanced back up at the sky. ‘I hardly know. I have worked for my family for so long.’
‘So you would be a diplomat, like your father?’
Mary laughed. ‘There are certainly things I do like about my father’s work. Doing good for one’s country, seeking peace, seeing fascinating places, meeting different people—I do like those. But there is one thing I wish was different.’
‘And what is that?’
Mary smiled up at him. Could he be truly interested in her own musings, her own inner thoughts? He looked back down at her, his smile vanished. ‘A real home. We have moved about so much, I can’t even remember what a place that was truly my own would be like.’
‘A cottage in the woods?’
‘Perhaps,’ she answered with a laugh. ‘A half-timbered cottage, with a little rose garden, perhaps a cat on the front steps. Or maybe a shining white castle on a mountaintop. A place for a large family.’
‘A family,’ he murmured and Mary was sure she saw a strange shadow cross his face.
‘What would you want, Lord Sebastian?’
He laughed, that shadow gone before she was even sure she saw it. ‘A castle on a mountain sounds rather ideal. A place far from my family.’
Mary was suddenly reminded he was Lord Henry Barrett’s brother, and she shivered guiltily. ‘Are you not happy to be back with your family now?’
‘As happy as most people are with their families, I would imagine, Miss Manning. I am very glad of the friends and parties I have found in London, the distractions.’
Mary stared out into the garden. ‘Diversion, yes. You don’t have to stay out here with me, Lord Sebastian. I know many people will want to talk to you tonight.’
He gave her another smile, one so sweet, so alluring, it made her fall back against the chilly stone balustrade, unsure her legs would hold her upright now.
‘But I like it better here, talking to one person,’ he said. ‘You are most unexpected, Miss Manning.’
‘Me? Unexpected?’ she said, surprised. He was certainly the one who was unexpected—and even more intriguing than he had been before. There seemed to be so much hidden behind his dashing façade. ‘On the contrary, Lord Sebastian. I am most ordinary.’
‘Ordinary is certainly the very last thing you are.’ He reached for her hand, holding it gently between his fingers, as if it was a delicate, precious piece of glass. ‘Is it so unbelievable that I would rather be out here talking to you, watching the stars with you, than be packed into a crowded ballroom?’
Mary couldn’t stop staring at his hand on hers. His was so strong, sun-browned and scarred, against her white glove. ‘Yes,’ she blurted.
He laughed and raised her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. His mouth was warm and surprisingly soft through her thin glove, making her shiver. He looked so golden in the moonlight, so like a dream.
‘How little you do know me, Miss Manning,’ he said. Something like a flash of sadness, regret, passed over his face.
‘I don’t know you at all, surely, Lord Sebastian.’ And now she wanted to—all too much.
‘I feel as if I no longer know myself at all. I have done some wretched things, I fear,’ he said, pressing her palm to his cheek.
‘Wretched?’ Mary whispered. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
He shook his head. ‘I wish I could tell you—and I hope you never know. Yet I think you should see something...’
His expression looked so very far away, Mary was overwhelmed with the feeling of a bittersweet melancholy. She only knew she wanted to make him feel better, soothe whatever pain it was that seemed to burrow inside of him, beyond that golden beauty.
She didn’t know what else to do, so she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. She knew little of kissing outside of books, so her touch was soft, tentative, full of the hope she could distract him. But his lips parted under hers as his breath caught in surprise and the taste of him filled her with a warm rush of delight.
His hands closed over her shoulders and at first she feared he might push her away. Then he groaned, a hungry, wild sound deep in his throat, and his arms came around her in a hard embrace. He dragged her closer to his hard, warm chest and she went most willingly.
His mouth hardened on hers, his tongue tracing the soft curve of her lips before plunging inside to taste her deeply, hungrily. She wanted so much, more of him. She had never felt like that before, as if she soared up into the stars in truth.
She felt him press her back against the balustrade, his open mouth sliding from hers to trace her jaw, her arched neck. He touched the sensitive little spot behind her ear lightly with the tip of his tongue, making her laugh.
How wondrous kissing was! Why had she not known that before? Or was it only him that made it so wonderful? She reached up to twine her fingers in his hair and pulled him up to kiss her lips again. He went most eagerly, his kisses catching fire with a need that made her own burn even hotter.
‘Mary,’ he whispered against her skin and the one word was so full of deep hidden meaning.
She pressed herself
