you approach them as Lord of the Manor, my presence will have no effect.”
“What do you suggest I do, Mrs. Ashcroft?”
“Act as though you care, my lord.”
“You think I don’t?”
His swift dealings with Mr. Blake indicated, if not a care for his tenants, a belief in doing his duty by them. He had also saved Sophie from a great embarrassment. However, this issue of keeping vital information about her husband from her pointed to a more calculating side of his character. “I really couldn’t say. You have a way of muddling one’s perception of you.”
“Do I?”
Fire trailed up the back of her neck as she cleared her throat. “And your second reason?”
“One I should probably not share with you, given our previous discussion.” His elbow rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers idly rubbed along his lower lip. “But I will. It is best if you understand.”
A tremor started way down deep in the center of her body and slowly worked its way to the very tips of her extremities. She curled her fingers and waited. “Understand what?”
“The danger you’re in.”
Ten
Sebastian took a certain amount of pleasure in watching Catherine’s shock transform into wariness. The woman was twisting his insides into an inconvenient mass of wanting. And her daughter’s invitation sparked a powerful yearning that nearly suffocated all his good intentions.
The widow squared her shoulders. “What sort of danger?”
He rose from his seat and moved to stand behind her chair. For a brief second, he considered sparing her. But the man inside him, the one who had given up moments like this to ensure England’s safety, bent forward until his lips were but a hairsbreadth from her ear and whispered, “Me.”
Her lips parted on a quivering breath. “I’ve never shared a bed with any man but my husband.”
He brushed his fingers along the line of her hair, where it lifted away from her nape. “Are you amenable now?”
“You would not think me uncaring?”
Sebastian knelt at her side, one hand gripping the back of her chair, the other resting on the table before her. “I suspect you finished mourning your husband long ago.”
She bit her full bottom lip and averted her gaze, blinking in quick succession. Empathy twisted his heart. He covered her clenched hands with his. “Was I wrong?”
Her attention remained fixed upon the floor. “No.”
Placing his finger on her chin, he urged her gaze around to his. “Why the sorrow?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a broken whisper. “So many years wasted.”
A sentiment he knew well. He could have spent the last score of years cherishing a wife and producing a bevy of children who would comfort him in his old age. Instead, his elder days would be spent haunting the corridors of Bellamere Park alone… and reliving a fortnight of stimulating interludes with his beautiful neighbor.
He splayed his fingers, cradling her cheek. “Then we shall waste no more.” Until the moment their lips met, he’d had their affaire carefully planned from beginning to end. But he hadn’t counted on her degree of passion, her skillful mouth.
She trembled beneath his touch. Pulsed with a pent-up need that fed his barely controlled desire. His hand shook.
In one fluid movement, he drew her up and deposited her on the dining room table. The fine china clattered, the crystal tinkled.
The widow squeaked.
“My lord.” She glanced about the room. “What of the servants?”
“They have been instructed to make themselves useful elsewhere.” He discarded his coat and leaned one hip against the edge of the table. Unable to resist, he caressed the delicate curve of her jaw and the smooth skin along her throat. Her pulse pounded, his need grew. He nuzzled the sensitive hollow hidden behind her earlobe. “Brace yourself.”
Eyes wide with wariness stared up at him while she planted her palms on the white table cover. Her vulnerable expression sent a surge of liquid power through his veins.
He pushed away from the table and slid his hand over the soft leather of her boot-covered ankle, beneath the folds of her riding habit, along the soft profile of her slender leg. Leaning closer, he captured her earlobe between his lips and gently suckled. A seductive rasp of pleasure erupted from her arched throat, compelling Sebastian to linger, to kiss his way down her slender neck until he felt the gentle swell of her breast.
“Oh, dear Lord.”
Lifting his head, he watched the play of emotions streak across her face. Desire suited her far more than worry or wariness. Desire transformed her into