Page 13 of Heather and Velvet


  Sebastian’s borrowed serenity was shattered as a woman’s piteous cry shamed the voices of the forest to silence.

  He ducked beneath a shaggy branch. Prudence knelt on a smooth rock that jutted over a still pool, her face buried in her hands.

  He knelt beside her, his heart pounding in his ears, and gently touched her heaving shoulder. “What is it, lass? What is the matter?”

  She threw back her head, baring the delicate line of her throat to the caress of the sun. Tears spiked her short dark lashes. “I was too late.” She pointed down the hill behind her in horror. “Oh, Sebastian!”

  He almost lost his balance as she flung herself at his chest. He had no way of knowing if her passionate declaration was meant for him or her cat. He was too busy pondering the charms of having his coat kneaded by her slender fingers.

  She snuffled into his cravat, and he cradled her head in his palm, staring beyond her at the object she had indicated. Tufts of coarse gray fur protruded from the mossy hollow. A baffled frown creased his brow.

  “Prudence, where are your spectacles?”

  His matter-of-fact tone startled her into silence. “On my dressing table, I suppose. I forgot them. I had been dressing for tea before I rushed out.”

  He could not help but notice that she had also forgotten her corset and stays. The scandalous softness of her breasts against his chest made him feel giddy and slightly breathless.

  She wiped her eyes with his cravat. “The garden gate was only open for a few minutes. I had no way of knowing Boris was loose. My poor, dear Sebastian,” she murmured. “How terrible …”

  “Terrible indeed for the unfortunate squirrel,” Sebastian said dryly.

  She gazed up at him, wide-eyed. His lips twitched. Slowly she turned to gaze down the hill; her eyes narrowed to brilliant slits of violet. Sebastian-cat chose that moment to dart out from the trees, back arched. With a halfhearted bark, Boris padded after him. The kitten skittered sideways, spitting like a tiny demon. A swipe of one furry paw raked a trail of crimson down Boris’s shiny nose. With a wounded yelp, the hound slunk back into the woods, his tail tucked between his massive hindquarters.

  The kitten rolled onto his side and began to groom himself with his rough pink tongue. Sebastian threw back his head with a burst of deep-throated laughter.

  “But I thought Boris had eaten—” Prudence clapped a hand over her mouth, but not before a merry peal of joy escaped. Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks.

  Sebastian wiped them away with his fingers. “Squire Blake is more likely to eat your kitten than that cowardly mutt. I saw the old chap eyeing the peacocks only yesterday at tea.”

  That sent Prudence into a new fit of laughter. Helpless with mirth, she clung to his shoulders. He anchored a lean arm around her waist and hugged her against him. His lips brushed her cheek. Too late, they both realized his embrace was not that of an uncle.

  The eternity of the past week melted as Sebastian’s mouth drifted to the curve of her cheekbone and he tasted the softness of her unpowdered skin. Her eyes were pressed shut as if she could somehow deny the lingering descent of his mouth, even as her hands closed in helpless fists against his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her feathery lashes; the salt of her tears burned him. He soothed the sting by dipping his tongue between her parted lips; only to ignite a slow, steady burn in his loins. His arm curved around the small of her back, dragging her hips against the aching cradle of his thighs. It was no longer enough to be inside of her lovely mouth. He wanted to be inside of her everywhere.

  Dear God, he thought. He was falling hopelessly in love with this beautiful, clumsy, bespectacled spinster.

  He buried his face in the sheltering hollow of her throat. “Oh, lass, I’ve missed you so.”

  A long, still moment passed.

  Prudence shoved at his chest and sprang to her feet as if the rock had sprouted flames. Her heavy mane of hair tumbled around her shoulders.

  Sebastian climbed to his feet, still shaking with desire. “One glimpse of your hair in London and they would know why powder and wigs are beginning to pall.”

  She tilted her nose in the air, but not before he saw dread darken her eyes. “You followed me,” she said. A note of accusation tinged her voice.

  He took a congenial step forward. She took a wary step backward.

  He locked his hands at the small of his back, striving to look every inch the country gentleman. “When I saw you go rushing off, I was naturally concerned. It is ironic that I should be the one to remind you, but there are robbers about the countryside. You shouldn’t be out unchaperoned.”

  “And it is ironic that I should be the one to remind you, Lord Kerr, but there are also robbers in my aunt’s parlor. One place should be as safe as the other. It would be as simple for you to drop Plato’s bust on my head as drown me, although considerably less tidy.”

  Sebastian was still too addled to understand what she was babbling about. His gaze traveled over the skin exposed by the unbuttoned throat of her gown, then glided over her body, down to her bare toes peeping out from her torn stockings. “I should hate to think what men like my own might do if they found you in such a vulnerable state.”

  She sniffed. “You don’t hate to think of it at all. Quite the opposite, I’m sure—Uncle Sebastian,” she added for pure spite.

  His brows drew together. “What manner of scoundrel do you think me?”

  It infuriated Prudence that even though she knew he was a lowly assassin, she could still be entranced by the teasing touch of his lips, the fluid play of emotions across the imperfect beauty of his features.

  Her jaw tightened, and she turned her back on him before he had her mumbling an apology for forcing him to kill her. “I think you the lowest sort of scoundrel. If you desire to play loving uncle to my doting niece, you should search for another actress. Some silly chit you can teach to cheat at whist and dandle on your knee before you slide your filthy dirk between her shoulder blades.”

  She shivered as his hand slipped beneath her hair to cup her neck. She would have preferred a pinch or a slap to this lethal tenderness.

  “I’d love to dandle you on my knee,” he murmured. “Or anywhere else for that matter.” His thumb slid around her throat, and she knew he could feel the havoc he was wreaking with her pulse.

  She tugged free of him. “Do stop it! I hate it when you’re kind.”

  Sebastian’s hand closed on her forearm. Her words were finally beginning to penetrate the warm haze of his emotions.

  Prudence could feel the heat of his touch through her thin cotton sleeve as he pulled her around to face him. “Would it be more in character if I strangled you with your stockings?”

  She could no longer hide the fear that flared her nostrils and set her lower lip to trembling.

  Sebastian’s hands fell to his sides. His eyes darkened to the color of the storm-threatening clouds rushing across the sky. “My God, lass, I was only joking. What have I done to make you fear me so?”

  Impotent rage surged through her. “Nothing yet. But I know what you intend to do. You must have found my little speech very touching when I promised not to be a burden to you. You knew quite well that I wasn’t going to be around long enough to be a burden to anyone.” As she spoke she walked backward, unwittingly nearing the sharpened crag of rock and the deep pool sleeping beneath. “It galls me most that you weren’t honest enough to take responsibility for your own decision. You let your men think another wanted me dead when all the time it was you.” Her heel touched the edge of the rock.

  Sebastian lunged for her. Fear twisted through her, and she wheeled around to flee.

  Too late, she realized she was on the edge of the rock. Her foot met only air and she tumbled off the warm rock into the chill water.

  The pool dragged her into its depths. The shock of falling opened her mouth and water rushed into her throat. She pushed her way upward, skinning her knuckles on rock. Her skirts clung to her legs. A slimy strand of w
eed tangled around one knee. She clawed at it, feeling a jagged flare of pain as a fingernail tore away. The panic that had closed her throat before she could take a breath erupted now in a frantic dance that twisted the ropy weed tighter around her leg.

  With a shudder of relief, her body went limp. As she floated in the weed’s embrace, her head fell back. She watched the muted play of sunlight drifting on the water until the world went as gray as Sebastian’s eyes.

  Twelve

  A cloud covered the sun, severing its warmth like an unseen hand. Lightning streaked the sky as Sebastian stared at the pool.

  Prudence’s fall into the water had set off bubbling ripples across the dark mirror of its surface. His grandfather’s words echoed through his mind like the distant rumble of thunder: I would like her dispatched. Something simple. A fall from a horse. A hunting accident. You know how to arrange such things. As Sebastian watched, the ripples settled, leaving the pool an unmarked sheet of indigo.

  “Prudence?” A tentative echo carried his whisper back to him. On the other side of the pool, a tree frog lisped into song.

  Sebastian pulled off his shoes. A hoarse note of panic touched his voice as he called her name again. The forest let out a wistful, sighing breath. The swaying trees creaked a reply. From the depths of the pool, though, came nothing but silence. How simple it would be to turn around, walk back to the house, and pretend he’d never passed this way.

  He tore off his coat with a curse. His dive broke the water with the barest hint of a splash. His hands groped in the murky water at what felt like hair. It came away in his grip and he was left holding a fragile clump of grass and dirt. He strained his eyes to see, still blinded by the light above. A glimpse of pale white started his heart thundering in his ears.

  His powerful body shot toward the absence of darkness. His hands closed in a convulsive movement around the fleshy coolness of Prudence’s arm. Her skirts billowed at her waist. Her hair floated around her face in a silky web. Her eyes were closed, her lashes pressed like ferns against her cheeks.

  Sebastian jerked. Nothing happened. Around him the watery world faded to gray as the last bit of air in his lungs fed his hungry brain. He raked his hand down Prudence’s thigh and felt the weed cutting into her skin. He tugged with his dying strength. The weed snapped. He half pushed, half dragged her to the surface, shoving her head above the water before his own.

  The first raindrops splattered on the surface of the pool as Sebastian drew in a shuddering breath. Nausea tightened his stomach, and for one dizzying moment he feared he would faint, sending them both spinning into the pool’s darkness without a trace. The rock jutted over them, a black shadow against the graying sky.

  He gathered his limbs for a lunge toward the far bank. His arm locked around Prudence’s throat, holding her head out of the water even when his own slipped beneath. Water trickled between his lips. His toes stabbed a spongy cushion of mud. He crawled through the crackling reeds, dragging Prudence with him until their feet cleared the water. Her body rolled like a dead weight onto the grassy bank.

  Sebastian did not recognize his voice as his own while he untangled the wet strings of hair from her face and begged her not to die. Praying to a God he had long ago forsaken, he chafed her icy cheeks with his palms and tore open the bodice of her gown. Her chest did not stir. Curses and entreaties choked his raw throat as he gathered her in his arms and shook her violently. Her head fell back in limp surrender, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her throat with a despairing sob.

  A whisper of breath stirred his hair. He slowly lifted his head, staring with wonder at the convulsive rise of her chest. She hiccuped softly, then snatched in a breath that drove out racking coughs from deep in her lungs.

  He steadied her over his arm until her struggles with the water ceased. She collapsed against him, and he cradled her across his lap, murmuring her name in a litany of thankfulness. He kissed her nose and cheeks and ears, as if to ensure she had lost no precious features in the murky world of near death. He smoothed her hair with shaking hands. She lay like a child in his arms, her eyes still closed. But her lips parted lightly with each breath and a flush of rose bloomed in her cheeks.

  “Poor sweet lass, I almost killed you,” he whispered.

  His gaze raked over her, and he cherished each gentle rise and fall of her chest. When he finally noticed how her sodden chemise clung to the soft swell of her breasts, he was unprepared for the sensation that swept him. Feeling like the thief he was, he cupped her sweetly rounded breast in his palm.

  Bending down, he lay his lips against hers, wanting nothing more than to mingle his breath with her own in an affirmation of her life. Her lips were cold. He warmed them with his own until they parted beneath the pressure of his silky heat. With a will of its own, his tongue dipped inward, finding a surprising warmth to match his own. His breath quickened as her tongue stirred to meet his, drawing him into her with an innocent allure that made him shudder.

  His trembling fingers caressed her breast through the thin cotton. Her nipple hardened, and the knowledge of her arousal dug deeper into his heart than a dagger.

  It was more instinct than the faint shift of her breathing that made him open his eyes and meet her gaze. Her own eyes were dark and luminous, wide with a startled curiosity that trapped his hand in its guilty motion. A flush shot from his throat to his face, and he hated himself for it. He could not decide which offense Prudence would deem worse—nearly letting her drown or fondling her like a common whore while she lay helpless in his embrace.

  He waited for her to shove him away, for the silent reproach to fill her eyes. The rain fell harder now. It slicked his hair to his head and streamed over his face. She blurred before his eyes as she reached up and gently wiped the rain from his lashes.

  The tender gesture was Sebastian’s downfall. He pulled her against him, holding her so tightly his arms ached. Her own arms went around his neck. Her small hands curled into fists against his nape as he scooped her up and carried her beneath the sheltering boughs of a willow. The green leaves enveloped them in a glossy canopy that slowed the rain to a steady drip. Still he held her, his face buried against her throat, reluctant to loose her for fear she would flee.

  “Sebastian?”

  His name was a velvety purr against his lips.

  “Mmmm?”

  “A tree is hardly the place to be. We could be struck by lightning.”

  He swung her around., laughing exultantly as he lowered her to her feet. “My ever practical Prudence.” He cupped her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes. “It’s far too late for me. I’ve been struck by something fiercer than lightning.”

  Prudence shivered as he lowered his lips to hers, and it had nothing to do with a chill.

  “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to hold you,” he said. Each of his words was accentuated by a soft kiss that left a tingling trail along the curve of her mouth. “To make you drop that prim and proper mask you hide behind.”

  Her fingers curled in his damp hair as her lips brushed his cheek, tasting the light stubble that had risen since he had shaved that morning. He was such a tantalizing combination of roughness and smoothness. She longed to explore his varying textures with a hunger that terrified her.

  She made a soft sound of despair. “You should have left me to drown. It would have been kinder.”

  He tilted her chin up and gazed into her eyes. “Jamie warned you, didn’t he? I should have expected it. The lad’s grown quite fond of you.”

  She gave a weak hiccup of a laugh. “He threatened to snap my neck at our last meeting. I’d hate for him to take an active dislike to me.”

  “That’s just Jamie’s way. The more he likes you, the surlier he grows. I thought he was going to shoot me one Christmas when he was overcome with the joy of the season.” He nudged her gown aside and nuzzled her collarbone, licking the rain from her skin with a greedy tongue. “I could never hurt you. You were mad to think I c
ould.”

  She pushed against his shoulders. He stiffened.

  She backed away from him. “But you are hurting me. This is madness. You are going to marry my aunt in less than a week. Remember?”

  He stalked her around the tree trunk, spurred on by desperation. “Why should we let a little thing like that come between us?”

  Her eyes widened. He took advantage of her shock, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her mouth in a kiss as darkly different from the one beside the pool as death was to a faint. His lips were hard and unrelenting, demanding an answer from her that no book had prepared her for. She opened her mouth to him, feeling her body go molten and liquid against the rough edges of his own as he bore her back against the willow trunk. Velvety petals of ivy cradled her.

  Sebastian’s hands rubbed her back, then slid lower, cupping her hips and bringing them against his own with fierce strength. The soaked fabric of knee-breeches and gown was only a fragile skin between them. A foreign sweetness rocked through Prudence’s veins, paralyzing her with fear and pleasure. She felt herself sliding down the tree, down some dark, erotic abyss of Sebastian’s making into delicious surrender. She knew if they reached the ground together, she would never fight her way back from beneath his will.

  She balled her fists between them and shoved with all of her strength. His chest felt like a rock. It did not budge. He gazed at her from beneath his lashes, and she knew he was one breath of sanity away from taking her to the ground, with or without her consent. For a long moment, the only sounds were the rain beating against the leaves and the rasp of his breath as he struggled to regain even tenuous control over his desire.

  Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, and his grip softened.

  “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked.

  “Inconveniencing you?” She averted her eyes. “Causing you some momentary physical discomfort?”

  His palms slammed into the tree trunk on either side of her. “What you’re doing to me,” he said, his burr thickening perceptibly, “they don’t teach in anatomy books. You’re breaking my bloody heart. And I didn’t even know I had one.”