was with her. To such an extent that he had envisaged them talking alone together. Walking alone together. Sitting alone together. Most definitely being alone when they made love together …!
A muscle flickered in Sebastian’s tightly clenched jaw as he imagined first removing the pearls from her hair, before releasing the glossy curls so that they tumbled down the length of her slender spine. Next he would remove her gown, turning her so that he might unfasten—slowly—the row of tiny buttons from her nape down to her bottom, lingering, after releasing each button, to kiss the smoothness of the silky skin he had just exposed. When the last button had been unfastened he would then allow the gown to fall about her ankles, leaving her wearing only her chemise and stockings, with the fullness of her breasts pouting temptingly beneath the thin material, her nipples a dark delight that Sebastian would taste and possess until he’d had his fill …
‘It would appear we are the last to go into dinner, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet prompted sharply. He seemed lost in thought. Perhaps contemplating that social ruination, if the pained expression on his face was any indication!
He drew his thoughts back to his surroundings with an obvious effort. ‘I apologise for my preoccupation, Lady Boyd,’ he murmured huskily as he extended his arm to her.
‘Do not give it another thought, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet assured him as she placed her gloved hand lightly upon his sleeve. She was aware of the muscled strength beneath her fingertips. ‘After all, it is not every day that you are asked to act as escort to the notorious Black Widow!’ she added waspishly.
‘I—What did you call yourself?’ he exclaimed.
Her smile was completely lacking in humour. ‘I assure you I am well aware of the unflattering names I have acquired since … since the death of my husband,’ she told him. ‘Do not fear—you will have done your duty to our hostess once I am seated. I will not be in the least offended if you then ignore me for the rest of the evening.’ Rather, she would prefer it!
Juliet now recognised Lord Sebastian St Claire as being the youngest brother of the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge. A young lord, moreover, who had long been considered by the ton to be one of their most eligible—and elusive—bachelors. As such, his presence here was attracting as much attention as her own, making their belated entrance to the dining room together all the more sensational.
A puzzled frown marked his brow. ‘Why should you imagine I might wish to ignore you?’
Juliet smiled slightly. ‘To save yourself from further awkwardness, perhaps …?’
For the first time Sebastian considered that perhaps it had not been kind on Dolly’s part—or indeed his own!—to invite Juliet Boyd to Banford Park for these two weeks. That after all the talk and speculation this past year and a half, concerning her husband’s unexpected death, this woman would obviously be uncomfortable at making her first public appearance in some time.
Just as she was obviously aware of the unkind things that had been said about her following Crestwood’s death—cruel and malicious gossip, for the most part, which, even if it were true, could not have been at all pleasant for the lady to hear ….
He fleetingly touched the hand that rested on his arm. ‘I assure you I feel no awkwardness whatsoever at being seen in your company, Lady Boyd.’
Her glance was scathing now. ‘And I am just as sure, as the Duke of Stourbridge’s youngest brother, you would consider it impolite to admit to such an emotion even if you did.’
‘On the contrary, My Lady,’ Sebastian countered. ‘If you know anything of the St Claire family at all, then you must know that we prefer—in fact, go out of our way—not to bow to the dictates of Society.’
Yes, Juliet had heard that the St Claires were something of a law unto themselves. Even the head of that illustrious family, the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge.
After years of being considered the biggest catch any marriage-minded mama could make for her daughter, the Duke had caused something of a sensation almost a year ago by choosing to woo and marry a young woman the ton had had no previous knowledge of.
Juliet moved to sit in the chair Lord St Claire drew back for her. ‘Be assured, My Lord, in this circumstance you are in the company of one guaranteed to help you succeed in doing exactly that!’
She had been so busy settling herself into her seat that for a moment she had not realised he had taken the chair beside her.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said now, as she looked up and found herself between the Earl of Banford, seated at the head of the table, and Lord St Claire to her right. ‘Have you succeeded in inciting Lady Bancroft’s ire in some way, Lord St Claire?’ she asked.
He raised brows the same unusual teak and gold colour as his hair, laughter gleaming in those whisky-coloured eyes. ‘On the contrary. Lady Bancroft—Dolly—and I have always been the best of friends.’
Juliet continued to look at him for several long seconds. ‘Indeed,’ she finally murmured enigmatically, before turning away to indicate, she hoped, a complete lack of interest in the subject.
Sebastian would have liked to pursue the conversation further, to know the reason for that enigmatic glance, but he was prevented from doing so as his first course was served to him—by which time Lord Bancroft had drawn the Countess into conversation, giving Sebastian no further opportunity to talk, but every chance to study Juliet Boyd from between narrowed lids.
For all that she must know she was still attracting more attention from their fellow guests than was polite, the Countess of Crestwood stoically ignored that interest as she continued to converse and smile graciously with their host between sips of her soup.
Did she have any idea, Sebastian wondered, how enticing her mouth was, with its top lip slightly fuller than the bottom? How seductive the deep green of her eyes? How the translucent paleness of her skin begged to be touched?
Sebastian longed to feel the slender coolness of her hands upon his own heated flesh ….
To Juliet’s dismay, her discomfort had only increased once she was seated at the dinner table, and she felt her every move being avidly watched by her fellow guests. No doubt with the intention of gossip and comments later. Nor was she as unaware of the man seated on her right as she would have wished to be!
Lord Sebastian St Claire was without a doubt one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. A few years younger than her, of course. With that dark, unusual-coloured hair and the mellow flirtation of those whisky-coloured eyes. A sensual mouth that could either smile with derisive humour or curl back in contempt. A square and firm jaw that spoke of a determination of character that was only to be expected from the brother of the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge.
More disturbing, perhaps, his black evening clothes had been tailored perfectly to display the width of his shoulders, his tapered waist, the strength of his muscled thighs and his long, long legs.
Juliet had been out for barely one Season before her husband had offered for her, but even so she could appreciate that Lord St Claire was that most dangerous of men—a rake and a libertine. A man, she felt sure, who felt absolutely no qualms in availing himself of a woman’s charms. All women, of any age. Whilst remaining free of any emotional entanglement himself.
After years in a miserable marriage, Juliet could only envy such an emotionally carefree existence as Sebastian St Claire’s.
Envy,
