Oh, but no. His dreams were part of what made him such a beautiful creature.
* * *
Margaret had not saidshe was going to break it off with George, but she would not marry his uncle. Sebastian had seen it in her eyes. He felt relief at that but also considerable physical discomfort as they walked together toward the manor. He could not remember any other time when he had ever wanted, so badly, to make love to a woman.
Except perhaps the night she’d come to his chamber.
But now…
Helikedher. He wanted to make her smile, make her laugh. He knew some of what made her sad. By God, he’d watched her create a magnificent painting as she’d stood at the edge of a cliff.
And good God in heaven, she’d come apart in his arms.
He’d watched her relinquish all control, quite literally, at the touch of his hand. Her lips had parted, allowing soft gasps and moans to escape unchecked, her face had flushed, as well as her neck and breasts.
Breasts that were full and plump with the perfect pink tips. He licked his lips, imagining again what each had felt like in his mouth. She’d arched toward him when he’d grazed her with his teeth. And after…
Sebastian had very nearly broken his most basic of rules and taken her there, that very moment—without a French Letter.
She’d been quiet since he’d removed his hand from her, for the most part. They had simply lain together in the grass until twilight became all too apparent with the darkening sky and the cooler temperature. She had cuddled with him, for a few moments, and then suggested that they ought to return before it became dark, but he hadn’t immediately made any move to go.
“What are you thinking?” He’d never in his life asked a woman this question, and yet as he lay watching her, he wanted to know.
“I should be sorry,” she answered, meeting his gaze. “But I am not.”
He was glad. Her features softened, and her eyes shifted back to stare up at the sky. He wanted to make love to her properly. And he would. He touched the side of her cheek.
“Are you ever afraid?” She turned her head and asked, “Of the unknown? Of leaving England? Of what you will find? Of being on a small ship, in the middle of the ocean?”
He laughed at all the scenarios she’d listed. “A little. I don’t think about that.”
She stared back at him searchingly. “I am a little afraid of you—of this.”
“This is good.” He thought he understood. His attraction to her was a powerful one, unlike anything he’d ever known. “But perhaps a little like floating in the middle of an ocean.”
She nodded, looking far too serious. “Yes.”
Sebastian leaned forward and touched his lips softly to hers. “Try not to think about it.” He murmured, and then reluctantly sat up. But she would.
Because he was coming to know her, and he was almost certain she’d do just the opposite. “Don’t think, Maggie.” He assisted her to her feet, and they took turns brushing the grass and debris off one another’s clothes.
“I’m quite sure I don’t know how to do that. There is too much…” Her voice trailed off.
It seemed obvious to him, though.
“You will tell him tonight?” He wanted her reassurance. George would find some other lady. Some other wealthy widow, perhaps one who was closer to him in age. He was a handsome and respected gentleman of thetonand his connections could hardly be any better, what with his sister having married a duke.
“I will speak with him tomorrow.” She sighed. He’d drawn her hand through his arm as they walked, and she’d not resisted. “I hope he is not very angry… but I… cannot.”
“You care for him? Do you love him?” The possibility, strange as it might seem, just then came over him.
She didn’t answer right away. She waited for so long, in fact, that he wondered if she was going to answer at all. “I care for him, but I could not do this… I could not allow you to… If I loved him.”
But it was not really an answer. “Why then? Why were you going to marry him?” Had she simply been lonely since her husband’s passing? She possessed her own home; she was independent. If all she’d wanted was sexual fulfillment, he was more than willing to oblige.
“Each October…” She squeezed his arm beneath her hand. “A rather unfortunate series of anniversaries come to pass.”
“Your birthday,” he prompted, realizing that she was going to explain her non-answer.
