And he still had them. She shivered at the recognition of such an intimate thing. And then tried to push away all the meaning she wanted to ascribe to it, to the afternoon and to the intimacy of his holding her.
She was traveling down a dangerous road by wanting to see more in his bright blue eyes than playful flirtation. And if she wanted to remain his friend, she would have to control herself better in the future.
CHAPTER 7
One of Sebastian’s favorite places in London was the Donville Masquerade, a notorious underground hell that provided to its members the unabashed freedom to explore sin. He came here to play, to forget, to bury himself in pleasure when pain came to visit.
But tonight, standing at the bar with Delacourt, he didn’t feel his usual sense of calm and excitement as he looked across the writhing, sensual crowd.
No, he felt the opposite. He felt…wrong.
“Are you brooding to attract the attention of the ladies, or is something truly on your mind?” Delacourt drawled as he sipped a drink. It was his third of the night and his friend’s voice was slow with the edges of drunkenness.
Sebastian drew a long breath as he looked at Delacourt. They’d met here for a night of careless fun, but he felt awkward around his best friend now. Guilty, even though he hadn’t really done anything wrong.
Only that wasn’t true. Three days ago, he’d gone against what he knew were Delacourt’s wishes and spent an afternoon with Marianne in his boxing ring. He’d teased her and taught her and felt more than he should about the exercise. Not to mention, he’d kept the gloves she’d left behind that day, even though he could have sent them back to her once he realized they were still in his pocket.
Worse, in that moment when she’d stumbled against him and everything had become close and hot and slow, he’d wanted to kiss her.
Actually, that wasn’t the right word for it. Hehadn’twanted to kiss her. A kiss could be chaste and sweet and romantic. What he’d wanted to do was dig his fingers into her dark hair and tilt her mouth up farther and devour her. He’d wanted to cup her backside and grind her into him until there was no doubt what he wanted. He’d wanted to push her down onto the floor of that boxing ring and lick her until she convulsed in pleasure. He’d wanted to roll her over and flip up her skirts and fuck her so that she truly understood the word he’d taught her over a week before.
“Ramsbury.Sebastian!”
He blinked to clear those erotic, unexpected,unwantedthoughts from his mind and refocused on Delacourt, who was now staring at him with true concern.
“My apologies,” he said. “Woolgathering, I suppose.”
“About what?”
He almost laughed. Delacourt would have an apoplexy if he knew the answer to that question. After he’d punched Sebastian to a bloody pulp that was. “Nothing of consequence,” Sebastian lied. “How is your sister?”
“Marianne?” Delacourt asked, his brow wrinkling at what he must have seen as a change of subject even though it was decidedly not. “She’s fine, I suppose. Still mourning her old friend, I think, but otherwise well.”
Sebastian frowned. “Yes…Lady Claudia.”
“Broadsmoore’s sister, though he seems to mourn her little enough. Marianne has been friends with her since her disaster of a coming out all those years ago.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said softly, and tried to picture Lady Claudia. He was ashamed to find he couldn’t, despite the fact that she was so important to Marianne.
“Spinsters of a feather, Marianne always said,” Delacourt continued. “I had always hoped that my sister might have a chance at a marriage in the future, someone to protect her better than I can. But she seems resigned to her life as it is now.”
Sebastian wrinkled his brow. He might have said the same about Marianne if pressed a few weeks ago, but her recent actions made him question that statement now. He realized all her odd behavior had come since her friend’s untimely death. Did that mean Marianne actuallydidwant more and Delacourt hadn’t seen it? Or was it merely grief driving her…well, some might call at least a few of them reckless actions?
“Why the question about Marianne?” Delacourt asked, his gaze narrowing and becoming harder.
“She’s my friend, just as you have been, so I’m always curious about her welfare,” Sebastian said with a dismissive shrug even though that explanation felt sour on his tongue. Wrong.
“Hmmm,” Delacourt said as he looked out into the crowd. “Just don’t take advantage. It’s the one thing I’ve ever asked of you.”
“Yes, I know,” Sebastian said. “I assure you I’d never go too far.”
Except even as he said those words, he saw Marianne’s face again, turned up toward his, her dark eyes fluttering shut on a sigh as she waited for him to do the impossible and take her lips.
“Excellent. But I don’t wish to talk about her anymore, not here,” Delacourt said. “We came here to get our cocks wet. I intend to do so and I suggest you do the same.” He patted Sebastian’s arm before he eased into the writhing crowd and into the waiting arms of a comely woman in a mask who had been watching them from a table for the last ten minutes.
Sebastian saw plenty of women who would offer the same solace to him. Normally he wouldn’t think twice to take it. To drown himself in a warm, wet body that clenched his with pleasure.
Only tonight, as he stood at that bar, he found he didn’t…he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want some anonymous woman in a pretty mask to put her hands and mouth on him. What he wanted, he feared was destined to destroy him.
