night.”
No, she shouldn’t have, but she knew the truth now—and perhaps that was for the best, considering she was poised to become his wife. He’d been the one to insist the marriage would encompass more than mere legal ties.
Now revealed secrets scattered between them like packages ripped open, surrounded with torn paper and bits of string. Now there was nothing left to hide.
Sebastian went to the automaton and rewound it to watch the gruesome scene play out again.
“Why don’t you want to see her?” Clara asked.
“Because she ruined my family.”
“Your brother appears to be granting her another chance.”
“My brother is a fool if he thinks anything good will come of this.”
Clara was quiet for a moment, though he felt her perceptive gaze peeling through all the hardened layers of his soul. “Don’t make a decision now that you will later regret, Sebastian. Especially where your mother is concerned.”
“For God’s sake.” An old, long-buried anger surfaced. “If anyone should regret their decisions, Clara, it is Catherine Leskovna. Not me.”
“That may be so, but when someone has wronged you and then wishes to make amends…”
“What makes you think she wishes to make amends?”
“If she’d wanted to hurt you, she wouldn’t have gone to Darius first and asked him to facilitate a meeting. She’s giving you the chance to refuse, even though I’m certain she wants more than anything to speak with you again.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“I’m a mother. And I would give my blood to have my son again.”
Sebastian lifted his head to look at her. A pang cut through his chest at the sight of the fathoms-deep longing coloring her eyes.
“You…” A curious knot tightened his throat. “You are nothing like my mother, Clara. You did not make the choice to desert your family. Aside from separation, there are no similarities between my relationship with her and your relationship with Andrew.”
“Separation is a breach, no matter the cause. You have the opportunity, and choice, to cross it and see your mother again. Andrew does not.”
A choice. Sebastian’s fingers curled into his palm. He hadn’t chosen to end his career. Wouldn’t have chosen marriage had it not been for his father’s threats. Hadn’t had much of a choice to help Darius, not when he’d needed the money and, as Darius had bluntly reminded him, he’d had little else with which to occupy his time.
He had, however, chosen Clara. A brilliant, glowing fact he still feared to fully acknowledge in the event it was taken from him.
Clara was right that he now had a choice to see his mother again. The idea that he had another choice felt good, even if he had no plans to take a step in her direction.
The tiger folded back onto its haunches. Sebastian set the machine aside and moved to where Clara stood. He put his left hand on her warm nape, rubbing the tight muscles. A sigh escaped her as she tilted her head to the side to encourage the manipulation of his fingers.
He stepped closer, inhaling her scent of oranges and spice. The muscles of her neck became pliable, softening under his touch and easing a soft groan from her throat.
Sebastian pressed his mouth to her temple, right beside the birthmark at the corner of her eyebrow. The pulse there, quick as a sparrow’s heartbeat, strummed against his lips. Warmth unfurled in his blood along with something else, something more, that rich, sea-blue satisfaction of knowing, even before their vows, that Clara was his. And that, even if she didn’t yet realize it, he belonged to her.
The idea of belonging to a woman would have wrung a laugh from him a year ago. He’d never have allowed anyone to weave into his soul the way Clara had, never have gone to any lengths to help her, never have admitted she could fell him with a harsh word.
But now he had. And he would. And God knew she could.
She shifted, stretching her body upward to press her cool cheek against his. She murmured something against his stubbled jaw, then turned her face and sought his mouth with hers. He slipped his hand to her shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension still lacing her supple muscles, and yielded to the sensations washing over him.
Clara wound her arms around his waist, splaying her hands over his lower back as she angled her head to allow him to deepen the kiss. Her body softened against his. Heat arced into his groin as her breasts pressed into his chest