Perfect Bride (20 page)

“Justin chides me about duty and obligation. He chides me for being so proper. He chides me for be
ing so perfect.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “As if I had a prayer. As if I
ever
had a prayer. I think you’ve already guessed the truth, Devon. I envied my brother when I was a child. I envied his looks. I envied his charm. I longed to be out riding and play
ing as he did, but my tutors wouldn’t let me. My fa
ther wouldn’t let me. I’ll never be perfect. But I have to try. It’s what I was taught. It’s what I am.

“Perhaps Justin is right. Perhaps I
am
like my fa
ther. But it’s because of him that I have my pride, my pride in my home and my name and my heritage. I hate what happened here, but the Hall is nearer and dearer to my heart than anything else. Perhaps it’s selfish. But I can’t put it aside. I can’t put duty aside.

For it’s here in this house I want my children born. It’s here I want them raised, as we were—Justin and Julianna and I. It’s here I want to make them laugh. To
hear
them laugh. But never to cry. Never to hurt. Not the way Justin did. Not the way
we
did—”

He broke off. Devon’s shoulders were heaving. Shocked, he stared at her.

“Devon, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Alarmed, shaken to the marrow of his bones, he pulled her around to face him. “My God, Devon, what’s wrong?”

Slowly she lifted her face. “You should hate him, but you don’t, do you?”

Sebastian went very still inside. “Who? My father?”

“Yes.
Yes
.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. He taught me to re
spect what I am, who I am. He taught me to
be
who I am.”

Warm, wet tears drizzled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. “Sebas
tian,
he beat you
. Oh, don’t you see? He taught you nothing that wasn’t already inside. Nothing that wasn’t already there.”

He shook his head. “Devon,” he refuted gently, “it’s kind of you to say so, but you can’t know—”

“Oh, but I do,” she burst out. She swept a hand to ward the portrait. “It’s there, Sebastian. It’s all there. Your protectiveness. Your loyalty. It’s there in the clasp of your hand on Justin’s shoulder, the way Julianna’s little fist is curled within the other, the ado ration in her eyes as she gazes up at you! You took care of them, didn’t you? You sheltered them. You held them. You loved them when your parents
would not! You were just a boy, but so very much a man already!”

“No, Devon.” He felt raw inside. As helpless as he’d felt those stormy years beneath his father’s iron rule. “You’re wrong. I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t shield them—”

“You did far more. How can you say you are self
ish? Sebastian, you are staunch and strong and—and I think you are, quite possibly, the most wonderful man in the world.”

Her pronouncement stunned him. Humbled him. Nearly swept him to his knees.

“Devon,” he said hoarsely. “Ah, Devon . . .” There was an awful constriction in his chest. For one per
ilous moment he was afraid that
he
might cry . . .

He wrapped her close and clung, his mouth against the soft, feathery wisps of hair at her temple.

It was some time before the ability to speak was reclaimed.

When he was able, he pressed a kiss on the fra
grant cloud of her hair. Drawing back, he wiped away the glaze of tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb, then gazed into the misty depths of her eyes.

“Walk with me,” he murmured, a crooked little smile at his lips as he offered his arm. “For if you don’t mind, I would very much like to show you my home . . .”

here was never a day more glorious. Not a cloud marred the sky, a striking shade of pure indigo. The sun’s rays spilled down, showering the land with warmth and light. A lazy breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of flowers, the trill of a feminine voice, the rumble of low male laughter.

Hand in hand, they wandered through the grounds, past neatly trimmed hedges and mani
cured flowerbeds. Eventually their steps took them through a woodland and down a hill where a clear, shallow brook dashed over the rocks. Mid-afternoon, they paused to rest on a bench threaded through with hollyhock.

Devon lowered her bottom, only to bounce up
right. “Look,” she cried delightedly, “a hare!”

Sebastian pointed toward a copse of trees. “There’s another one.” Through the grass, several more heads popped up.

Sebastian laughed as she darted first left, then

right, spinning and twisting. “Stop!” he protested. “You’re making me dizzy.” “Oh, but they’re so darling,” she panted. “I wish I
could catch just one.” “And what would you do with him? I daresay

Dumpling would be jealous.” “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said worriedly. “On the other hand, I know what I would do if you
caught one.” He rubbed his hands together. “We’d have a very tasty meal of roast hare tonight.” She looked stricken. “Oh, you are too cruel! I swear I shall never eat hare again.” But in the next moment, she slanted him a side
long glance. “I take it we’re staying the night then?” She made no effort to disguise her hopefulness. “Would you like to?” “Yes,” she said promptly. “Well, I suppose I could give it some thought.” “Not too much thought.” “Devon, you know I give everything a great deal
of thought.”

“Then let me do it for you. There’s little point in leaving now. Even if you did, we wouldn’t get back to London until the middle of the night.” She sounded quite happy at the prospect. “Therefore we may as well wait.”

Subtlety was not her strong suit.

“True. But we’d make it back in time for breakfast. And I know you’re fond of Theodore’s croissants. On the other hand, I daresay Mr. Jenkins, who has been cook here at Thurston Hall since before I was born, makes the finest roast hare in all England.”

Limb by limb, as if he had all the time in the
world, he arranged one booted foot across the other, then leaned back, resting on his elbows.

She was still puffing, her cheeks flushed pink from exertion. In consternation she regarded his pose of indolent grace. In turn, she jammed first one fist against her hips, then the other.

Her fingers wiggled. “Sebastian?” she queried.

“Hmmm?” Closing his eyes, he turned his face up into the sun.

“What is your decision? Are we departing for London?”

“We’re still here, aren’t we?”

“That we are.”

“Then I’m wondering what’s keeping you.”

“Keeping me?”

“Yes.” Opening an eye, he gave a flick of his wrist. “Catch my dinner.”

Devon blinked. “You want me to catch your din
ner?”

“I believe that’s what I just said.”

“While you sit there and watch?”

“Yes. That’s the price for staying, my dear.”

A mischievous smile played across her lips. “In that case, perhaps we should bargain.”

That sounded interesting. He sat up. “What do you propose?”

He missed the irrepressible mirth alight in her eyes. He was too busy watching as she slowly tugged off one of her slippers. Sebastian’s heart be
gan to hammer. Good Lord. This was too much to hope for. Too much to comprehend. And interesting wasn’t the word for it at all—
The slipper sailed high above his head.

The second hit him squarely in the chest.

“I’ll catch your dinner, my lord, but first you have to catch me!”

Sebastian was too stunned to move. “Devon—”

“Do you concede victory, my high-and-mighty marquess?”

No man could resist a challenge such as that.

The chase was on.

He was convinced he had the advantage. Devon made sure he didn’t. He’d thought she was ex
hausted. But she danced and weaved, and oh, but she was quick! His lungs burning, his legs aching so that he was certain he’d never walk again, he collapsed at the base of an oak tree.

“My God, I haven’t done that since I was a boy.”

She would have dashed by yet again, but he snared her by the waist and brought her down beside him. Still laughing, Devon sank down in a froth of skirts. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve
never
done that. And I’ve never done this either.”

Her toes wiggled in the thick, lush grass. They were slim and round and pink, as delectable as the rest of her. God, but that didn’t bear thinking about! Her slippers were halfway across the meadow, not that she seemed to care.

They shared the very same thought.

She intercepted his look and giggled. “I know, it’s quite unladylike.”

Sebastian felt his heart turn over. Being with her like this ...Oh, God. He had no words to describe it. More than anything, he longed to lean over and part her lips, cover her mouth with his, hold her with their hearts pressed together as one. But some thing stopped him. He didn’t want anything to ruin
this moment. It was too precious. Too sweet. Too . . . perfect.

There was a bond between them. A link. Some
thing far beyond friendship. Far beyond desire.

Far beyond his power to master.

He didn’t fight it. He couldn’t. For somehow he was beginning to recognize this was a battle he could not win.

Was he the only one who felt it?

He leaned back in the grass, watching as the sun played hide-and-seek through the branches. Throw
ing up an arm, he shielded his eyes against the glare, adjusting his head slightly so he could see her. She sat with her back against the tree trunk, bare feet stretched out before her.

A fingertip traced the squareness of his jaw, the wispiest caress. That same fingertip traced the chan
neled grooves beside his mouth.

“You didn’t sleep a wink last night, did you?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then sleep now.”

“I’d much rather look at you.” The admission slipped out before he could stop it, and then he didn’t care.

Above him, moist, red lips burgeoned into a smile. A thick curl slipped over her shoulder, spilling onto his chest. Absently she pushed it behind her ear. It was all he could do not to wind that silken lock about his fist and drag her mouth down to his. She was such a rare beauty, he acknowledged with a surge of pride, and she didn’t even know it. Both innocent and alluring. Spirited and demure.

Reaching over, she pulled his head onto her lap.

Small, delicate fingers stroked the furrows in his brow, sifting through his hair. Somehow he stilled the questing in his gut. Amazingly, her ministrations were making him drowsy. Peace settled into his bones, his very being. The world was spinning away but he didn’t care.

“Sebastian?” she whispered.

Sebastian didn’t hear. He was sleeping, a sleep more peaceful than any he’d ever known.

Mr. Jenkins himself served supper that night. He saw to every detail himself, placing an elaborate sil
ver tray before his master and his companion with zeal.

“Roast hare,” he announced. “My specialty.”

With a flourish, he placed a succulent slice on her plate. Hands behind his back, he stood and awaited her verdict.

Devon’s eyes were huge. Her gaze swung to Sebastian’s.

“Taste it,” Sebastian advised lightly. “I promise, it will melt in your mouth.”

Behind his napkin, Sebastian nearly choked with laughter as she swallowed it whole.

Miraculously, Devon did not choke. She managed a beaming smile and glowing praise. “Oh, it’s sim
ply delightful!” she gushed. “Quite the most won
derful thing I’ve ever tasted in my life!”

Mr. Jenkins left the dining room a happy man.

Sebastian promptly found himself the recipient of an arch glare. “I do believe you planned that.”

“Not so,” he assured her with absolute gravity, his palms raised high.

Sebastian devoured both his portion of hare and
hers with relish. After dinner, he invited her to play chess, a game he’d taught her during their lessons. While Devon accorded her attention to the chess board between them, he devoted his attention to her, watching as she swirled her wine, raised it to her lips, and filled her mouth.

A droplet lingered at the corner. A dainty finger wiped it away while she contemplated her move.

He tried to avert his gaze and failed.

She frowned at him. “What are you looking at?”

“I was just admiring.”

“Admiring what?”

“The craftsmanship of this rook.”

The artlessness of her beauty.

“That is not a rook. That is a pawn!”

And he was but a pawn in her grasp. Molten need rose hot in his loins. So acutely attuned to her was he that had she given the slightest sign she would wel
come him, he’d have leaped across the table, thrown up her gown, and dragged her atop him.

Sweet Christ, he’d never bedded a woman on the floor before in his life.

“Sebastian, are you paying attention?”

“Yes,” he lied.

In three moves the game was done.

She trounced him soundly.

“You’re pouting,” she said when they arose from the table.

“I am not.”

“Well, you must be moping then.”

Sebastian was amused. “Why would I be moping?”

“Because you’re stuck here in the country with me. Because I’ve taken you away from your diversions.”

He laughed. “Hardly.”

“Well, if you were in London, where would you be?”

“Probably having a brandy in the library with you.”

“That will hardly gain you the bride you seek, now will it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Well,” she said breathlessly, “I have a theory as to why you’ve yet to find your bride.”

Sebastian did, too, and it had everything to do with this bewitching little urchin who had somehow slipped her way into his life and his heart.

A jet brow rose expectantly.

“I think...perhaps you need some advice in dealing with a lady.”

The glimmer of a smile crossed his lips. “You think so, do you?”

“I do. For instance, if you were at one of your grand affairs in London, there would surely be a great many ladies about.”

None so lovely as you
.

“So, let us pretend then. You must choose a lady. And since I am here, well”—she gave an exagger
ated sigh—“I fear I must stand in for your lady.”

She hardly sounded distressed at the prospect.

“Perhaps I should whisk the lady away from the drawing room for a turn in the garden,” he said.