poised herself above him and then eased down, enclosing him by scant degrees. When he was fully embedded in her, throbbing, he tightened his hand again.
“Oh.” Clara shifted experimentally, her hips writhing. “Should I…”
“You should move.” Sebastian struggled to maintain what little control was left to him. “Right now.”
Clara did, her hands fisting on his shoulders as she lifted her body and brought it down again, driving their pleasure higher. She convulsed around him with a cry the instant before his tension broke. He thrust upward with a groan, spilling inside her as her inner muscles rippled around his shaft.
Clara’s mouth descended on his as the final shudders undulated through them. She pressed her hands to the sides of his face and leaned her forehead against his.
“I count that evening in the Hanover Street rooms,” she whispered, “as one of the luckiest days of my life.”
Sebastian rubbed his finger across her lower lip. “Yet still you have not gotten what you want.”
“With you, I have.” The words seemed to slip from her involuntarily. A sheen of dismay colored her eyes as she straightened to separate herself from him. She stroked a lingering hand across his neck. “But I meant it when I said I would not allow you to ruin yourself over this.”
“No, I won’t. But I will find a way to defeat him.”
Clara studied him, her expression veiled with a sudden guardedness. “Will you not approach your father?”
A humorless laugh stuck in Sebastian’s throat. “No.”
“Surely Lord Rushton could—”
“My father threatened my inheritance unless I wed, Clara.” Anger built in Sebastian’s chest as he recalled the threats of both his father and hers. “Rushton could not have cared less that my career failed so badly. He never even asked what happened. He has spent the past six months reestablishing himself in society and attempting to convince me to take a position with the Patent Office, of all bloody places. No. I will not involve him in a matter such as this.”
“But even your mother knew about Fairfax’s reputation,” Clara persisted. “If your father were to approach him, Fairfax might at least listen, if not relent to some degree.”
“No.” Unease twined with his anger as he refastened his shirt, cursing inwardly at the awkwardness of attempting the buttons with his left hand. “My father stays out of this, Clara.”
“All right, then.” She drew away from him and allowed her skirts to pool around her legs, regaining her modesty. Notes of both frustration and finality, bloodred, colored her voice. “We’d best find another solution, then.”
Chapter Fourteen
Clara descended the cab in front of Fairfax’s town house. The tall buildings concealed the descending sun, and a red-orange light glowed like fire on the horizon. Gas lamps burned, smears of yellow flickering through the smoky glass.
No fear compressed Clara’s body. Not anymore. For two days following her conflict with her father, Clara had battled overwhelming fear as she tried to formulate a plan. Now, weary of being afraid, she had woken that morning with the sharp, new intention to confront her father alone. Sebastian had been gone most of the day, apparently in a lengthy meeting with Mr. Findlay, his brother Alexander’s solicitor. Clara knew she had to resolve matters before her husband set plans into motion that would result in his inevitable ruin.
“Welcome again, Mrs. Hall.” The butler Davies reached to take her cloak.
“Hardly welcome, I’m certain, Davies,” Clara murmured.
His mouth turned down at the corners and a faint sorrow flashed in his eyes before he schooled his expression back to impassivity. After hanging her cloak on a rack, Davies ushered her into the study.
Fairfax sat behind his desk, his fingers pressed to his temple and his features lined with pain.
Clara waited for him to acknowledge her. She held her shoulders stiff and straight, forced emotion from her face, restrained the urge to tremble. Once again, she would prove herself dutiful and obedient, even if the effort killed her. Which seemed likely, given the speed at which her heart was racing.
Fairfax lifted his head. The sly malice that had colored his eyes during their previous meeting had faded, leaving a bleak, hollow look Clara had never seen before.
Momentarily startled, she couldn’t find her voice. Then, as if by the force of the man’s will alone, his look dissolved into hard irritation.
“If you are not here to accede to my wishes and agree to stay away from Andrew for good, then get out,” he said.
Clara could do neither, but she couldn’t very well tell him