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‘Because we cannot be seen here alone together like this!’ she gasped.
‘That is hardly likely, now, is it, Juliet?’ He gave a pointed look at their surroundings, to indicate that no candles glowed in the other bedchambers to show that any of the other guests had yet retired to their rooms for the night.
No doubt they were all still downstairs in the drawing room, Juliet surmised impatiently, discussing the scandal that the presence of the notorious Countess of Crestwood in their midst represented!
‘I have not given permission for you to address me by name.’ Her chin rose challengingly. ‘And I trust you are aware, Lord St Claire, of the reason the ton labelled me the Black Widow?’
Sebastian frowned slightly at the mention of that name once again, discovering that he took serious exception to it. ‘For the main part, I choose to ignore malicious gossip.’
The Countess arched dark brows. ‘And what if on this occasion it is not merely malicious? What if it is true?’
His gaze became fixed on those clear, unblinking green eyes as she continued to meet his gaze in challenge. ‘Is it?’ he asked quietly.
She gave a humourless laugh. ‘I have no intention of answering such a question!’
‘I am glad of it,’ he replied simply. ‘It really does not signify what I or anyone else believes about your husband’s death.’
‘It—does—not signify?’ she repeated incredulously, those green eyes now flashing angrily.
‘No,’ Sebastian reiterated, and he reached out to lightly clasp the tops of her arms and pull her slowly, purposefully towards him. ‘As I have absolutely no interest in becoming your second husband, it is doubtful you will ever have a reason for wanting me dead.’
He was wrong—because Juliet had never felt more capable of inflicting physical retribution upon another person in her life as she did at that moment! ‘There you are mistaken, Lord St Claire.’ She snapped her indignation as she attempted to pull away from him. ‘At this moment I can think of nothing I would enjoy more than to see you consigned to the devil, where you so obviously belong!’
He gave a husky laugh, refusing to release her despite her struggles. ‘You believe my past misdeeds are serious enough to send me to the pits of hell?’
‘You do not?’ Juliet gave him a scornful glance.
‘It is a possibility, I suppose,’ he conceded, after appearing to consider the matter closely. ‘Drunkenness. Gambling. Debauchery. Hmm, it does seem more than a possibility, does it not…?’
The lowering of his head towards hers slowly blocked out the moonlight overhead, and Juliet became very still as she stared up at him. ‘What are you doing?’ she breathed unsteadily.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘As you seem to believe I am going to the devil anyway, I cannot see that one more indiscretion is going to make the slightest difference to my hellish fate!’
‘You—’ Juliet had no more chance for protest as Sebastian St Claire’s mouth laid claim to hers.
That arrogantly mocking mouth, which never seemed far from a smile. That firm, experienced mouth. It parted Juliet’s lips to deepen the kiss even as he pulled her closer against his body, in order to mould her much softer curves to the hard contours of his muscled chest and thighs.
In the whole of her thirty years Juliet had never known any other man’s kisses but Edward’s. And they certainly hadn’t prepared her for the warm seductiveness of Sebastian St Claire’s lips as they parted hers, or for the way the tip of his tongue delicately moved in exploration against them before sweeping into the heat beneath as he deepened and lengthened the kiss.
Was this arousal? Juliet wondered, slightly dazedly.
There was an unaccustomed warmth between her thighs as his mouth continued to plunder and claim hers. Her breasts had firmed, and the nipples tingled achingly where they were pressed so firmly against his brocade waistcoat. His hands caressed the length of her back, the movement causing the tips of her breasts to stroke against his body, and Juliet groaned low in her throat at the sensation that this caused throughout her body.
What was happening to her? Juliet wondered wildly.
She had never experienced any of these sensations on those occasions when Edward had pushed her nightgown up to her chin before he thrust the hard thing between his legs painfully inside her, his member so long and thick that the first time he had taken her Juliet had actually fainted as Edward ripped through the barrier of her innocence.
It had been the same every time Edward had come to her bed—he took her in a cold, silent way—and Juliet had always had to fight to keep the tears from falling, knowing that her tears would only anger Edward into making her suffer even worse degradation.
So Juliet had suffered the pain as Edward had thrust himself between her thighs, eventually giving a grunt and collapsing heavily on top of her, rather than suffer the verbal and physical retribution that would rain down on her should she attempt to refuse him.
Thankfully Edward had not come to her bedchamber quite so often during the last few years of her marriage, but on the occasions when he had done so no amount of pleading on her part had succeeded in softening his demands. She was his wife, he had told her coldly, and as such it was her duty to lie back, open her legs, and give satisfaction to his physical needs—whenever and whatever they might be.
The memory of those miserable nights with Edward was enough to kill any possibility of Juliet ever finding pleasure in any man’s arms—even Sebastian St Claire’s!—and she wrenched her mouth free of his before pushing him away, her hands held out defensively in front of her as she backed away from him.
Edward was dead, Juliet reminded herself desperately. She was free of him at last. Not just free of him, but of all men. Juliet had promised herself after Edward’s death that she would never again suffer the torment of belonging to any man.
‘Do not come near me again!’ she warned harshly. She knew by the raising of his hand that St Claire was about to do exactly that.
Sebastian had meant only to cup the side of Juliet’s face, to lay the soft pad of his thumb soothingly against lips slightly swollen from his kisses. But his hand fell back to his side, and his gaze became searching as he saw the wildness glittering in the deep green of her eyes. Like those of a rabbit cornered by a bigger and stronger predator…
Who was responsible for causing this look of desperation in such a lovely and delicate woman?
Chapter Three
Sebastian had no idea quite what he would have said or done next, as a loud knock on the outer door to Juliet’s bedchamber preventing him from doing anything.
‘Perhaps you should go and answer that,’ he advised softly, as Juliet continued to stare up at him rather than respond to the persistence of a second knock.
‘Not before I am sure you understand it is my wish for you to stay well away from me in future!’ Her hands were clenched.
‘I understand.’ He gave her a terse inclination of his head.
Juliet gave him one last narrow-eyed look before turning sharply on her heel to enter her bedchamber, the softness of her slippers making little noise as she hurried across the room to open the door.
Sebastian stepped back into the shadows. No matter what Juliet might choose to think of him, it had never been his intention to involve her in the sort of scandal that his being found with her on the balcony of her bedchamber was sure to incur.
His brows rose as he saw that her late-night visitor was Dolly Bancroft…
Juliet’s legs were still trembling as she quickly opened the door, and her breasts were quickly rising and falling in agitation from her time in Sebastian St Claire’s arms—on her balcony, of all places! So disorientated did Juliet feel that she could only stare blankly at Dolly as she stood in the dimly lit hallway, still dressed in her evening finery.
Her hostess looked slightly flustered. ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Juliet, but there has been a slight accident.’
Was it Juliet’s imagination, or had Dolly Bancroft given a swift glance behind Juliet before speaking? As if she had suspected—no, expected!—that Juliet would not be alone in her bedchamber?
Dolly Bancroft was the person responsible, Juliet felt sure, for giving Sebastian St Claire the bedchamber next to hers. With those adjoining balconies!
Still in that spirit of ‘kindness’, perhaps…?
Her mouth thinned. ‘An accident?’ she enquired.
‘Your maid.’ Dolly reluctantly drew her attention from the bedchamber back to Juliet. ‘Her name is Helena, I believe?’
Juliet drew in a sharp breath at this mention of her cousin. ‘What has happened?’ she asked anxiously.
Dolly sighed. ‘The silly girl seems to have fallen on the stairs and injured her ankle.’
Was her cousin in pain? How badly was she injured? More importantly, had a doctor been called?
‘A footman has carried her up to her room, and one of my other guests—Mr Hallowell—is a physician. He has gone up to examine her even as we speak,’ Dolly Bancroft answered Juliet’s question before she even had the chance to voice it.
‘I must go to her,’ Juliet said.
‘I am sure there is no need for you to trouble yourself, Juliet.’ Dolly frowned at the suggestion. ‘Mr Hallowell is perfectly competent, I assure you.’
‘Nevertheless, I intend to go and see my—Helena for myself.’ Juliet turned to pick up a candle to light her way up the stairs to the servants’ quarters. ‘Surely it would have been better for you to have sent one of the servants to inform me, rather than abandoning your other guests?’
Dolly pursed her lips and her gaze no longer quite met Juliet’s. ‘I thought it best, in the circumstances, if I came and informed you myself.’
‘Circumstances?’ Juliet repeated dryly. ‘What might those be, Dolly?’
‘I—You—’ Dolly Bancroft looked uncharacteristically flustered. ‘I simply thought it best,’ she repeated briskly.
‘Dolly?’
The other woman was suddenly every inch the Countess of Banford as she paused to turn in the hallway and look at Juliet down the length of her pretty nose. ‘I really must return downstairs to my other guests now, Juliet.’
‘Of course.’ Her own manner was just as haughty. ‘In that case you and I will speak again in the morning, Lady Bancroft.’
Some of the starch left Dolly’s expression. ‘Why all this fuss, Juliet?’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Surely you must agree that St Claire is devilishly handsome?’ She laughed softly. ‘And, not only that, he is the lover that all the women of the ton secretly wish to have as their own!’
Juliet drew herself up to her little over five feet. ‘Then they are welcome to him!’ she announced.
‘Most of them would be only too happy if they could get him. Unfortunately they are not the object of Sebastian’s current interest.’ Dolly gave her a knowing look.
Juliet’s gaze faltered a little and her expression became wary. Was Dolly saying that it was she, in particular, whom St Claire desired? That actually, it was he who was the instigator of their adjoining bedchambers?
Of course Dolly was not saying that, Juliet instantly chided herself; she and His Lordship had not even been introduced until this evening, and the allocation of the bedchambers for the Bancroft guests would have been made long before that.
‘Lord St Claire’s interest in me is not particular,’ she informed the older woman frostily. ‘He is simply an opportunist. A man who sought to use my—my discomfort earlier this evening to his own advantage.’ Juliet’s eyes flashed as she recalled the way the young lord had invaded her balcony only minutes ago and dared to kiss her.
And he was probably on the balcony still—no doubt listening to every word of this conversation!
‘Lord St Claire is a renowned rake. Nothing but a seducer of women!’ Juliet added for good measure.
Sebastian was eavesdropping on the conversation between the two ladies with increasing displeasure. But he’d had no other choice than to remain, trapped as he was outside on the balcony of Juliet’s bedchamber. Any attempt to step back over the dividing ironwork would clearly display him to Dolly’s gaze. Yet this last accusation of Juliet’s was almost enough to make him step forward in protest—and in doing so give away his hiding place to the already suspicious Dolly.
Something Juliet would definitely not thank him for!
But the captivating Countess had to know that Sebastian was still outside on her balcony. Just as she must also be aware that he would overhear her every word. No, her every insult…
Sebastian had no idea at that moment whether he wished to soundly spank Lady Juliet Boyd’s delectable bottom, or just kiss her until she was weak and wanting in his arms! Or whether doing either of those things would bring that trapped look back into her eyes. The same expression Sebastian had seen and questioned a few minutes earlier…
‘Sebastian is usually too busy avoiding those avaricious women to rouse himself into seducing any of them,’ Dolly continued.
‘Then I wish he would stop avoiding them and let himself be caught!’ Juliet snapped. ‘I certainly have no interest in knowing Lord St Claire any better than I already do!’
Dolly gave a rueful shrug. ‘I fear, Juliet, that you will have to inform Sebastian of that yourself.’
Sebastian knew that she just had…
Juliet, reluctant as yet to go downstairs to breakfast and face any of the other guests, requested that the maid Dolly had sent to help her dress return downstairs once this task had been completed, and bring a tray up to her bedchamber.
She had not slept well, and a single glance in the mirror earlier had shown her that this was all too apparent in the dark shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her cheeks. Both those things seemed all the more noticeable once her hair was secured on her crown in loose curls.
Juliet had told herself that her restless night was because of her concern for Helena and her badly twisted ankle, but inwardly Juliet knew her insomnia had been for another reason entirely.
Because of another person entirely.
Lord Sebastian St Claire.
Juliet had half expected that he might still be on her balcony when she’d returned from visiting Helena’s room the previous evening. Or, worse, actually awaiting her in her bedchamber. But she had found both her bedchamber and the balcony empty, and a surreptitious glance onto the balcony adjoining hers had shown her that it was also empty, the doors firmly closed, and no lighted candle visible in the bedchamber itself. Indicating that Lord St Claire had either gone to bed or he had rejoined the men downstairs playing cards. Juliet strongly suspected the latter.
One thing she knew for certain: she would not be able to leave today as she had planned. Helena’s ankle was indeed very badly swollen, and Mr Hallowell had advised that she must stay in bed for the day, and perhaps tomorrow, too, to allow for the swelling to go down. More importantly, he’d stated that Helena should not travel any distance for at least the next few days, to aid her recovery. And Juliet could not—would not—depart Banford Park without her.
Another reason for her disturbed and sleepless night.
For if she could not leave Banford Park, then she could not escape seeing St Claire again, either…
‘Is there enough tea in that pot for two?’ A familiar voice interrupted her unwelcome thoughts.
It seemed that Juliet could not escape the persistence of Sebastian St Claire even in her own bedchamber!
Her eyes were wide with disbelief as she stood up to turn and find him standing in the doorway that opened onto her balcony. ‘My bedchamber is not a public thoroughfare, sir!’
‘I should hope not.’ He grinned unrepentantly as he stepped fully into the room.
Juliet supposed she should be grateful that he was at least more suitably dressed this morning, in a fitted superfine coat of dark green, with a paler green waistcoat neatly buttoned beneath, a white cravat meticulously tied at his throat, and black Hessians worn over buff-coloured pantaloons. But that was all she could be grateful for.
‘I meant, My Lord, that I do not recall giving you leave to just enter my bedchamber whenever you please!’ Her eyes flashed her indignation at the liberty he had just taken.
‘Not yet,’ he acknowledged ruefully. ‘I live in the hope that you will soon do so.’
Juliet watched somewhat incredulously as he bent to pick up her own teacup and sip the cooling liquid from the very same spot she had, only seconds ago, those beautiful whisky-coloured eyes deliberately meeting hers over the china cup’s delicate rim.
He was still trying to seduce her, Juliet recognised with an uncomfortable fluttering sensation in her chest.
Sebastian St Claire really was too handsome for his own good. Or for any woman’s good, either—including her own.
This would not do. It really would not do!
Sebastian recognised the signs of Juliet’s impending temper. The glitter of her eyes. The bright spots of colour that appeared in her cheeks. The tilting of her stubborn chin. The tightening of her determined jaw.
He placed the cup unhurriedly back in its saucer. ‘The other female guests are intending to stroll down to the village to look at the Norman church.’ His derisive expression showed exactly what he thought of that plan. ‘I thought perhaps you might prefer to go on a carriage ride with me?’
If anything, her jaw clenched even harder, until he could almost hear her teeth grinding together. ‘Then you were mistaken!’
‘You are looking pale this morning, my dear Juliet,’ Sebastian observed soothingly. ‘Hopefully a little fresh air will bring some of the colour back into your cheeks.’
