Chapter Twelve
His immediate reaction was to balk, to shake his head most vehemently, even if the thunderous staccato of his heart urged him to shout yes.
“Don’t be a fool,” Sophie snapped. “You know it is the only way you can keep her safe!”
Finally, he found his voice and it emanated as little more than a strangled cough. “It’s absurd!”
“Sebastian, be reasonable.”
He was being reasonable! Emily couldn’t marry him- he was a cad, a rogue, a reputable rake of the worst form! Where he was dark, she was light. They did not match. In the end, he’d break her spirit by binding her to him. Then there was his father’s sickness… he couldn’t put her through that, couldn’t allow her to endure it. It was unthinkable.
He shook his head again. “I cannot marry her.”
“Why not?” Sophie glared at him. “Are you scared she won’t have you?”
That was a possibility. After all, she did not love him. It was only he who loved her with blinding, ravaging need. One-sided and cruel- yet another reason why he couldn’t marry her. When she could not return his affections, he was bound to become bitter and sordid. It was doomed to fail, their union. “There is that,” Sebastian conceded. “And it’s damned good of her if she does.”
“Any women would be mad to refuse an offer from you,” Sophie snorted. “It does not signify. I insist that you propose to her.”
An inappropriately humorous image came to mind of Sophie wielding that infernal cane at their backs as both he and Emily faced a solemn-looking priest. He pushed it away. “Sophie, I can’t marry her.”
“Rubbish. You have to. If you want that girl to be safe, you will.”
“I can keep her safe without the bindings of marriage!” he snapped.
“Not,” Sophie informed him acidly, “as well as you could were she your wife! Why, you’d have all the reinforcement of the law behind you should anything happen and any man would think twice before abducting another man’s wife to prostitute.”
Sebastian flinched inwardly at the implication that that was indeed what Emily was to become if her father succeeded capturing her. He couldn’t bear dwelling on it. “This is madness,” he rasped, hastily procuring Gabriel’s previously abandoned chair and sinking into the cushioned depths. “I can’t marry her.”
“For goodness sake, Sebastian,” Sophie growled forcefully. Her tone surprised him enough to feel compelled to glance at her. Her wrinkled lips were pursed with impatience and disapproval, and her beady silver eyes glinted with a perseverance that hinted at her determination to see this foolish plan through to its culmination. Although meritorious, Sebastian was still hesitant, wholly so. It would be mad for his sensibilities as well as Emily’s that they wed. But her life was in danger, the threat imminently potent now that Joscelyn had been murdered. He’d be a fool not to take every precaution to insure Emily’s safety, the livelihood of the woman he loved to distraction.
God, he was relenting. Slowly, he was seeing Sophie’s warped logic. It made his throat tighten. “No,” he mumbled wearily. “She’d not be happy with me.”
“Well thank God you’ve clarified that,” Sophie fumed. “For a minute I believed it was your own aversions to being shackled to the girl that was preventing you!”
He shook his head quickly. “I’d gladly marry her. I’d destroy her, though. I can’t be responsible for that.”
“Bah! How much brandy did you have? That is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard.”
Sebastian forced a glower upon his countenance and directed it at the wiry old bat reprimanding him with a sternness akin to a miserable governess berating a misbehaving ward. “I won’t make her happy,” he spat out between gritted teeth. A muscle in his jaw was flexing spasmodically and he longed for another drink. Alas, Sinclair had ensured that he’d remain parched and unsympathetically antagonized.
“You could bloody well try!” Sophie thumped her balled fist on the polished mahogany of Sinclair’s desk and Sebastian barely restrained a start. He glanced at her sharply. Usually stern but equipped with a regal queerness, this was an entirely different Sophie to the one he was acquainted with. There was an embodied seriousness about her that stemmed from her protectiveness over his ward, the companion she had become over the years to both he and Sophie, and now the palpable threat of having that all snatched away was turning her furious. Sophie was not asking that he marry Emily, she was demanding it. “You know as well as I that by marrying her you’d be able to keep a closer eye on her,” she finished heatedly.
That much at least Sebastian was willing to concede was true. He’d insist Emily was by his side consistently. They would share the same chambers at night and he’d join her for every possible meal as well as all the social functions she could desire. In that regard, he’d be doting. But would it be enough? There was no guarantee that she’d ever come to love him. His unrequited desire would render him insane and he’d not force her to share his bed. He could never do that. A wicked thought traipsed through his mind and he rather imagined he’d enjoy the process of seducing his own wife. She’d come to his bed willingly in the end- he’d make sure of that. Just the thought of that mop of glorious ruby hair feathered out against the whiteness of his linen was enough to drive him insane with need. His fists clenched involuntarily. “Even though I fear you may be right-”
“I always am!” Sophie interjected venomously.
Sebastian threw her a dark look. “As I was saying, even though I fear you may be right, I feel I cannot condone this ploy simply because it manipulates Emily. I don’t want to do that. Perhaps it is better if we tell her the truth and explain what we think is best and let her come to her own decision.”
“She is as bad as you when it comes to pride,” Sophie dismissed. “She’d hold it against us until something dreadful happened. Take this ridiculous notion of finding a husband she’s wormed into her head.” The old woman snorted. “Pride has compelled her to find some fool to take her in because she feels she’s been too much of a burden on us all. Ridiculous, of course, but there you have it. Mark my words, if you tell her that her life is in danger, she’ll not want to burden you with the responsibility of being her husband.”
Sebastian thought that it would hardly be a burden but he didn’t deign it pertinent to say so. “I don’t like it,” he admitted.
“Well, then, marry the stubborn girl and tell her after the wedding! Let her wrath befall your shoulders when she cannot legally flee from you.”
Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, easing the tension gathering in the muscles there. For all his reluctance, he had to admit that Sophie was right. Emily was prone to acts of irrationality, spurred by her pride. No doubt that once she learned how they had withheld the truth from her she’d loathe the both of them. Better that she do that when she could not disassociate herself from the Weatherly name. At least then she may hate him but she’d be bound to him by oath. And even then he could woo her. He could battle her defences like a skilled warrior, stripping her down slowly until she was prepared to trust him again and maybe even find it in her heart to love him. It was a fledgling hope, one he didn’t put much faith in, but it was there nonetheless. If her life meant that much to him then he was willing to put his reservations aside and pray that they didn’t resurface as the years came and went. He’d try his damnedest to assure it.
When his silence dragged on for too long, Sophie’s expression became agonised. “She needs you, Sebastian,” she rasped haggardly, urgently. “She needs your love. Don’t you see?”
Sebastian almost choked. “How did… God, how did you know?”
An incredibly caustic expression entered Sophie’s countenance and she straightened her bony shoulders importantly. “Any blind idiot could have known,” she said pertly. “You’ve been pining for her since you saw her at that blasted window.”
He snorted, a sound remarkably similar to Sophie’s occasional grunts. “From the time she made her debut, actually,” he admitted ruefully.
“Pah. That was when you merely realised it. You loved that girl from the moment you saw her.”
He said nothing, quietly acknowledging that she may be right. When Sophie realised that her grandson had no remark forthcoming, she softened slightly. “Are you going to offer for her, then?” she pressed.
Sebastian allowed a half-shrug to lift his shoulders. “I don’t know. I need to see her first. I still do not like the idea.”
“You know I am right.”
“I did not say you weren’t. I just do not want to manipulate her in any way.”
Sophie smiled grimly. “I’m sure she will see reason,” she insisted. “Maybe not at first, but eventually she will. It takes a Herculean woman to resist a Weatherly.”
“What an odd statement considering Hercules was male?”
Sophie snorted, characteristically dismissive. “My point exactly.” She paused and waved her hand about flippantly. “Of course, if Emily doesn’t want to marry you, you could always compromise her.”
“I won’t do anything of the sort!” Sebastian grated. “It is wrong of you to suggest such a thing! She is like family to you.”
Sophie shrugged noncommittally. “Indeed. I want to keep her family, too. I think it is imperative that you marry her and I don’t mind you forego the scruples and compromise the girl in order to do so. Lord knows I won’t blame her. Nobody should blame any woman who’s fallen to your whims.”
He glared at her blackly. “That’s enough.”
“So you won’t compromise her?”
“No, I will not. Of course I will not!”
Sophie looked marginally disappointed at the news. “Ah, well. You will have to ask her conventionally then. Terribly boring, that.”
“I have not agreed to do so just yet,” Sebastian told her pointedly. “I am considering it. I wish to see her first, and then I shall make a decision.”
“Well? What are you waiting for? I believe she is with that Colton gel in the blue parlour.”
He sighed reluctantly and rose to his feet. “I’ll go. But do not expect me to be engaged later on. I expect you to utilize your discretion about this, Sophie. I’ll not have news of our engagement spread across the whole estate before I have even made up my mind.”
“My lips,” Sophie announced with a flourish of her heavily jewelled cane, “are sealed.”
He regarded her dubiously a moment longer before he exited the study and went in search of Emily.
God, what was he thinking? He was mad to consider it, to cave to the longing that pestered his heart with increasing regularity. In fact, he was a blithering idiot to even think of dragging Emily into a marriage with him. He’d be insufferable and embittered, horribly tormented by a wife who did not love him.
His footsteps were loud on the flagstones of the passage as he ambled his way towards her, consumed with guilt and his overriding love, the inkling of anticipation at seeing her again even though he’d dined with her that morning. Besotted he was and he could hardly deny that he wanted her with a furious burning, but he wasn’t so selfless that he’d deny her the right to choose. He wouldn’t compromise her. He’d never do that. But he didn’t want to hide her past from her either.
Lord, he didn’t deserve her.
His steps halted before the door of the aforementioned parlour, the door thankfully left slightly ajar where he paused. Angled as he was he was provided an uninhibited view of her, perched on a cushioned bench near one of the expansive windows that were draped in thick blue velvet. He smiled at that, marvelling at her unconscious gesture to sit near windows. Silhouetted in sunshine, she positively glowed. Her hair caught aflame with the golden strands, the linear curve of her cheek illuminated sweetly as she conversed with the other woman in the room. He openly admired the slant of her dark brows, the grace of their gestures as they lifted and dropped with every facial nuance. She was such an animatedly little thing, her expressions never still but openly revealing and beguiling. Like this, undisturbed, he could study her for hours and just relish the sight of her.
Poignantly, he recalled another time when he had studied her unobtrusively from across another room, this one brimming with finely attired people. It was a recital or some such, right after Emily had made her debut. She had been young and fresh, exquisitely beautiful in a gossamer gown of peach silk, and yet she had sat all alone.
It had been entirely by accident, of course. He hadn’t meant to run into her at such an event. His only intention there had been in Lord Brambury’s luscious young wife. A surprise it was indeed to discover that Emily had accompanied Sophie to the recital and even more so that she sat alone and largely ignored by all present.
She had looked so horribly desolate that his heart had constricted painfully. Her enormous emerald eyes skirted the room reticently, longingly searching for a familiar face. Her gaucheness had been apparent in the way she squirmed uncomfortably and Sebastian knew that she hated every moment of her ordeal.
It was with some relief that Sebastian noted a portly gentleman stop in his tracks to ask her something and the light of relief that flashed through her eyes he felt down to the depths of his blackened soul. However, that quickly faded as the gentleman abruptly took his leave with a nod of thanks and moved off towards the refreshments table in an adjoined chamber, having gained the directions quite obviously from Emily first.
Her expression was nearly his undoing. It threatened to unman him and, unable to bear it any longer, he had left to find solace in a rampaging binge of cheap spirits and easy brawls.
As he studied her presently, Sebastian realised that he was a cad. In her moment of need, he’d abandoned her, made her feel even more impossibly alone than she already did. What he should have done was console her, spoken to her, and attempted to enjoy the recital with her. But he hadn’t. He’d let her continue to mire in her misery and he felt wretched for it.
How many other times had she had to endure the coldness of his peers? Of his class? Times and places that he hadn’t known of, that he hadn’t attended? He could have lessened her despair, eased her loneliness… but he had been selfish- hopelessly mired in his own sanctimonious misgivings. If he’d been a stronger man he would have channelled his love for her correctly, guided her into society where she could have been a success.
And he realised, his heart beating with a force that almost buckled him in half, that he could rectify all that now. He could marry her, protect her, and ensure that nothing untoward ever befell her person. He would provide for her selflessly, give her everything she wanted, anything she merely glanced at with a look of longing. His body thrummed with just that need, an intensified yearning pushing his steps forward, hungry to claim her, eager to need her.
***
Reeling from Victoria’s suggestion that she marry Sebastian, Emily could hardly believe her eyes when the man in question stepped into the room with an emphasis that was tangible. Her eyes widened on his predatory form and swept up his length, drinking in his size and handsomeness as if she were starved for him.
Victoria shifted uncomfortably beside her but she was largely unnoticed as Emily’s attention was riveted to the broodingly simmering man coming towards her. His lope was sure, wide, and swayed his broad shoulders hypnotically. His eyes were hooded but they smouldered with vibrant blue heat, a shiver of unnamed anticipation shooting down her spine.
“Uh… I think,” Victoria muttered edgily, “that I had better leave you two alone.”
Emily tore her gaze away from Sebastian and glanced at the other woman quickly. “What?” she asked, distracted. “Leave? Why?”
Victoria rose slowly to her feet, eyeing the man focused solely on Emily with a certain wariness. “Because I know that look,” she explained.
“What do you mean? What look?”
Victoria stifled a smile. “He has the look of a man about to compromise somebody,” she said shamelessly and strolled casually towards the door.
“What makes you think that it is me he wishes to compromise?” Emily hissed shrilly.
Victoria gave her a gay little smile, enunciated by a flippant wave of her fingers as she darted from Sebastian’s path and out the door.
“Traitor!” Emily yelled after her and rose to her feet, turning to face the advancing man who looked as if he was about to start steaming. A tremor struck her nerves, making her anxious and… excited? Good Lord. “Sebastian? Is ought amiss?” she hedged tentatively at the man who had not even so much as glanced at Victoria as she exited the room.
He didn’t answer her and stopped a foot from her person. Emily sensed a change in him, potently ardent and deliciously hot. It rippled from his body in waves, fuelling the same sensations in her limbs. Inexplicably, her palms became clammy and she wiped them surreptitiously on her skirts. Her throat, rather suddenly dry, convulsed as she tried to form words to say to him even though her brain felt quite useless faced with his potent masculinity. The heat in his mesmerizing azure eyes- Lord. She was going to melt.
It was too much for her poor nerves to withstand and she made a clumsy attempt at humour. A wobbly smile touched her lips, tentative at the fire in his eyes. “Have you come to divulge me of certain vexations, Your Grace?” she teased wanly.
His face broke and a ravenous hunger appeared to engulf him. The next moment she was lurched into his arms, hauled up against his unrelenting body. His warmth infused her and her breath hitched when she realised fully what his intention was. Without a moment to spare, his head swooped down and he kissed her.
Before Sebastian Weatherly’s lips had touched hers, Emily had always considered her world quite a cheerful place. Now she saw how terribly wrong she had been. It was a downright drab hole of place, as colourless as a rock, if one compared it to the vibrancy of his kiss. She’d never been kissed before and she’d never experienced anything quite so wonderful to match it.
Her fingers clutched the lapels of his coat for support, her knees giving way long ago to the blissful assault as her waist was banded by his arms. His lips slanted over hers with mindless ecstasy, with trembling restraint, as if he were holding back for all his worth. Her body quivered with his touch, angling into him for more, and he complied- eagerly.
With a shuddering groan, he expertly coaxed her lips apart and when she willingly complied, the kiss deepened. Wonderful, liquid fire raced through her veins and settled in a place that clenched her gut. His tongue probed her mouth enquiringly, tentatively explorative, and then deeper. His silken warmth was nearly her undoing- she’d never felt the like, the intimacy unnerving and tantalising all at once. She shivered and gasped, shyly touching her tongue to his, and as soon as she did he retracted with a ragged groan.
His eyes burning into her and her body reeling from his wicked caresses, still sensuously encased against his hard ridges, that wickedly sinful mouth that had just plundered hers formed a word that she certainly felt disinclined to hear given her current predicament and shattered the delirium that cocooned her.
“Shit.”