Sebastian curled his right hand into her side, crushing the fabric of her skirts and petticoats. He stepped forward and guided her back against the wall, then pushed his hips against her. The hard ridge of his cock nudged her skirts, an ache already building at the base of his spine. He wanted her naked, wanted to rub his stiff flesh against her bare thighs, wanted her cool hands sliding over his skin…
Clara gasped, her mouth breaking from his with a rush of hot breath. She tucked her face against his shoulder, her body rippling with a moan before she slid her hand down to curve with tentative curiosity around his erection.
Sebastian winced, bracing one hand on the wall behind her as the warmth of her hand burned clear through his trousers. His breath stirred the loose tendrils of hair at her temple. He struggled against the urgent need to thrust against her grip, to allow her to wind the tension to breaking point and then let go.
He placed his hand on the curve where her shoulder met the upward sweep of her neck. She eased her head back, her eyes dark purple with arousal.
“Two days,” he whispered.
A shudder rocked her. “Two days.”
He forced himself to step away. Just in time, as well, since Granville reentered the room and announced that Mrs. Marshall had a late breakfast prepared for them.
As Sebastian and Clara followed him from the studio, her gaze met his. Heat still glimmered in the depths of her eyes, and her flushed lips curved with the promise of a shared secret.
A foreign sensation curled into Sebastian’s heart, skeins of color woven into a smooth, endless braid. He sat with Clara and Granville at a wooden table in the morning room, the air scented with fresh-baked bread, while they ate muffins and drank coffee…and he surrendered to the feeling as it spread through his blood, into his soul, and warmed every part of his being.
Chapter Ten
Flowers bloomed from vases around the drawing room of the Mount Street town house. The morning sun lanced through the curtains, glinting off the rose tucked into the lapel of Sebastian’s dark blue morning coat. Clara kept her attention on the flower as the minister blessed their union, his voice deep and solemn.
“Be pleased, O Lord, to regard in much mercy and goodness the parties now before Thee…”
Clara lifted her eyes to find Sebastian watching her. Her heart thumped. A slight smile curved his mouth, the reassuring promise that they had both chosen wisely and well.
“You will please take each other by the right hand,” the minister requested.
Clara, her gaze locked to Sebastian’s, reached for his right hand. She expected him to hesitate for fear that his muscles would falter, but his long fingers closed around hers without wavering. Relief spilled through her, her own anxiety eased by the warmth brewing in his dark eyes and his absolute lack of uncertainty.
“I do,” he said, before Clara realized the minister had moved on to address her.
She gripped the folds of her pearl-gray gown with her other hand in an attempt to still the nervous shudders elicited by the gravity of the minister’s words—“a wife shall love her husband”—but her right hand, the one tucked securely in Sebastian’s large, warm palm, did not tremble.
“I do,” she whispered when the minister stopped speaking.
Her fingers tightened around Sebastian’s. Memory flashed through her—the elaborate spectacle of her wedding to Richard, also a union based on practical ends but one launched with a display of wealth and celebration.
The numerous guests, the music, the extravagant feasting—it had been the opposite of this quiet ceremony in Sebastian’s drawing room with only Lord Rushton, Uncle Granville, and Mrs. Fox in attendance, all sitting with twin lines etched on their foreheads.
Clara avoided looking at them until the minister had pronounced her Sebastian’s wife. Her heart caught when he bent to brush his mouth against hers. She allowed herself to feel the pleasure of the contact for an instant before turning to her uncle. Granville moved to embrace her. She gripped his arms and swallowed past the tightness in her throat.
“I promise you I’m doing what is best for us,” Clara whispered.
“Should you need anything,” he murmured in her ear, “you know where to find me. I will do whatever I can to help you. I regret that I have not done more.”
Sadness swelled in Clara’s chest.
“You gave me a place to live,” she said. “You tried to help with