Gossip regarding a peculiar incident outside Lady Kinley’s bedroom door on the last night of the Earl of Bentley’s country party circulated for days. Following an apparent misunderstanding, the Earl of Ravenswood, half-undressed and magnificently foxed, located his own bedchamber. It was then, the unnamed source gleefully reported, the earl slammed the door shut in a fit of such bruising ferocity, every portal in that wing of the house shook.

Naturally, once details emerged of Sebastian’s attentive nature during that weekend, it was assumed he committed himself to an exclusive pursuit of the countess. But, many whispered, something was not quite right.

Upon return to the city they attended one ball and a play together, the atmosphere between them best described as cold and strained. Indeed, Sebastian declined to dance with the countess at the ball. To Ivy’s surprise, he did not even kiss her hand at the end of those two evenings. He deposited her on Kinley House’s doorstep as though eager to be rid of her.

Her rejection of his advances at Bentley Park must have stung his pride enough to freeze the ardent pursuit. Or had he simply tired of her? A man with his appetites would find such inexperienced prey not worth the effort. After all, women tumbled headfirst in his bed with no demands or expectations on his person. The earl was accustomed to such behavior. Could he understand she was not like those women and never would be? She wanted more. She would have all of Sebastian. Or none of him.

It seemed logical to cut ties. To end this madness and accept defeat. Ivy’s soul wept at the thought, finding it impossible to commit to the idea. She could not let him go, could not imagine his lips never touching hers again. But she also could not continue this way, held hostage to the mercurial swing of the earl’s moods. This hopeful, agonizing limbo, her heart teetering in the balance, was causing untold pain.

After that first week Sebastian did not call on her, although he remained in London. With the evident chill in their relationship the Pack happily filled the void. Ivy hid her turmoil beneath smiles of indifference as whispers trailed in her wake.

Her resolve to end the relationship grew apace with the aching in her heart and one week stretched into two. Ivy decided if she heard from the heartless cad again she would tell him to go straight to the devil.

On a bright morning bursting with all the warm freshness of late spring, a simple request arrived from the Earl of Ravenswood. Would Ivy accompany him on a turn-around Hyde Park that afternoon?

“You wish to change again?” Molly’s tone verged on incredulous. “That’s four times, milady.”

Ivy ignored the maid’s pursed lips of disapproval. “I can count, Molly. Yes, again. I believe the yellow this time.”

Once moonstruck over the earl’s striking good looks, Molly had decided Lord Ravenswood was not so grand a prize after all. She grumbled of the earl’s lack of manners all the way back from Kent. The man was a blackguard she complained to Brody the first chance she got, even after Ivy scolded her.

A damned scoundrel, Sara pointed out the day before during tea. “I told you so,” she had mumbled, patting her friend’s shoulder while Ivy wept into her hands.

“This will do,” Ivy smoothed the sunny yellow silk with the palm of her hand. The fabric might add some much-needed color to her wan features.

“It’ll have to…’is lordship will be here any second,” Molly huffed, shoving a matching parasol into her hands.

Molly’s disgruntled mutterings, paired with Brody’s baleful glares, formed a depressing backdrop as Ivy descended the stairs to wait in the music room. At promptly one thirty, an open carriage pulled into the small courtyard and soon after that, the doorbell rang with the cheerfulness of funeral bells.

Following an exchange of aloof pleasantries, Sebastian handed Ivy up into the carriage. As the driver guided the vehicle down the crowded thoroughfare, the earl deliberately settled on the opposite side, his arm stretched across the back of the leather seat. His long legs brushed her skirts. Blast it. Her heart clenched with injured misery when he did not sit beside her.

The next fifteen minutes was a study in wretchedness. The carriage rattled along Mayfair’s quiet streets, giving way to busier thoroughfares before easing into the pleasant, forest like roadway to Hyde Park.

“I do hope this beautiful weather lasts.” Her remark elicited the extent of what Sebastian offered during the entire drive, a stilted procession of mumbles and inaudible responses. Ivy grit her teeth. “I hate when it rains.”

Sebastian regarded her as if she were daft. “It would not be England if it did not rain.”

It took a moment for Ivy’s anguish to melt. Not into a placid pond of cool water but a storm of hurt fury, boiling inside her, steaming and clawing to escape. Sebastian toyed with her as if he were a sleek jungle cat and she the meekest little field mouse.

But even mice possessed teeth. Sharp ones.

The gates of Hyde Park loomed ahead. Ivy nearly choked on the words. “This is the last time you will call on me.” Her breath caught in a slight hitch. Digging fingernails into her palms through the silk gloves, she steeled herself. “Your affections have obviously cooled, and I no longer wish to see you.”

* * *

Sebastian was shocked.

Ivy had reached her breaking point. For some reason, he never considered the possibility she would be the one to declare this war at its end. He controlled this game of passionate hostilities. Not her.

She is done with you…

Alarm surged throughout his soul, sickening and unfamiliar. She wore some kind of fanciful hat, framing her face to perfection, shading the flecks of gold dust sprinkled across her nose, her eyes enormous and beautiful beneath the wide brim. Smudges of fatigue darkened her eyes, her cheeks paler than ivory roses. But a cold resoluteness glinted in her gaze before the lacy parasol tilted to shield her face from his hot stare.

Just as well, Sebastian thought. I can’t face you. Didn’t dare look her in the eye now. Because she would know the awful truth. That he desperately wanted what Alan had with Sara. And he wanted it with Ivy.

Whatever it entailed, however it must be accomplished, Sebastian craved the happiness he saw illuminating Alan’s features the night of the engagement. He wanted the same joy shining on Ivy’s face that he witnessed glowing from Sara’s. He could not admit he was envious of their friends, but damn it, he was. He would marry Ivy if necessary to obtain that giddy euphoria. To have her.

Even if it meant betraying his own blood. And abandoning any hope for revenge.

Sebastian slowly shook his head. “My affections have not cooled by any measure. Ivy, you don’t know what you are saying…”

Don’t let her go, don’t let her go, don’t let her go…

Animosity rolled from her, thickened the air, buffeting him. An urge to swat at the heaviness of it nearly lifted his hand.

“I know exactly what I am saying,” Ivy whispered, gripping the parasol so tight, Sebastian recognized the silent yearning to crash the frilly thing over his head.

Locking his hands behind his head, his legs stretched to invade the space next to her knees. An arrogant smirk played across his face but churning inside him was a dazed panic. It made his words reckless ones. “And what shall you do, Ivy? Choose someone new? Let him caress you and hold you as I have? Shall you kiss him and pretend it is me? You’ll find no other man to give you the pleasure I have, and little butterfly, there’s still so much more to experience. We’ve only just begun to explore.”

Ivy sucked in a breath of outrage. The parasol tilted just enough to reveal her face. “There shall be no need to pretend. You shall be replaced. Indeed, I will erase you. Quite easily, I assure you.”

Reclining against the squabs of the cream leather seat, Sebastian presented the very image of nonchalant elegance, but jealousy sliced and twisted him with her words, leaving his insides a violent mess.

“Bloody hell. What more do you want from me, Ivy?” His voice turned raspy with restrained vehemence. “I’ve quoted poetry, sent flowers, danced and courted you. I let you beat me at whist, I cleaned fucking stalls, fetched countless glasses of damn champagne.” His eyes traveled down her body with slow, salacious meaning. “And I played your personal servant for an entertaining morning.”

“Three. Three glasses of champagne, if memory serves correct,” she whispered with biting softness, ignoring the profanities and the reminder of liberties he had taken. Sebastian knew every blistering moment replayed in her mind as heat flushed her face. “And how dare you allow me the win at whist. I might have known your motives were mercenary.”

“I can’t let you go. Not yet. I won’t let you go.”

“I don’t particularly care, Sebastian.” Her gaze skittered away to focus on the horizon. “What you desire has no bearing on my decision. This is a necessity. For my own sanity.”

Silence stretched between them while Sebastian willed his emotions to a more manageable state. A new strategy formed. While it might paint him as a monster, he took full advantage of Ivy’s vulnerability for what they shared.

Reaching for her hands, he quickly stripped her gloves away. When she tried jerking from his grasp, he held tight, thumbs grazing her palms, tracing the scar marring her left hand.

“Ivy, I do not say ‘please’ nor do the words ‘forgive me,' regularly cross my lips, but I say them now.” His husky murmur was an act of sacrifice for the Revenge Situation. For Timothy’s sake. For my own sake... maybe it is possible to have both. Ivy and my revenge. “Please, do not do this.”

“Let me go.”

He refused the command, holding her hands even tighter. “Tell me what I can do.”

Ivy glared at him, all heartache from the past two weeks visible in the shimmering depths of her eyes. “You can go away and never come back. Plummet from the face of this earth. Die a thousand horrible deaths… have your heart ripped out as mine-” She bit her lip as Sebastian stared in dumbfounded silence at her.

Each wrestled with inner thoughts until an ordinary bumblebee forced the issue.

It darted past on an exploratory mission. Drawn by the intriguing yellow tulip shade of Ivy’s gown, the determined insect whirred in again for a more thorough examination. Yanking her hand from his grasp, Ivy brushed the bee away. It floated next to her shoulder, buzzed around the sleeve of her dress as if considering the fluttering petals of an exotic flower before zipping up to investigate the confectionary-like flowers contained on the bill of her hat.

“Your perfume may have something to do with its persistence.” Sebastian’s lips quirked with a hint of a smile. He could not fight the lure of her fragrance. Was it surprising a mere bumblebee found it difficult to resist?

Ivy batted forcefully at the insect, squealing in alarm as it plunged close to her ear. Shifting her parasol to block the creature made it more resolute and angry. Their argument forgotten for the moment, she sat helpless while it hovered as though she were a rare flower requiring immediate pollination. Finally, with a little bark of laughter, Sebastian knocked the bee away with a firm swipe of his hand.

Five seconds later…

The creature doubled back, diving alternatively at their heads. A stream of colorful oaths and a flurry of arm movements were Sebastian’s only defense.

The parasol landed on his head with a solid thump.

He turned a stunned glare on Ivy.

“So sorry,” she said flatly, her expression revealing her satisfaction.

“Have you lost your damned mind?”

“I was not aiming for you,” Ivy insisted.

“Give me…” The depth of fury contained in those two words alone was astounding, “the damn parasol…”

A particularly vile curse exploded from Sebastian as he snatched the parasol from her without permission. Remaining seated, he began to swing the frilly weapon at the invader, causing the lightly built carriage to shift and sway. The dramatic maneuvers did not deter the stubborn insect.

Ivy ducked as the parasol whizzed by her head. Straightening her hat, now tilted in a rakish manner and covering most of one eye, she scowled. “Is it your intent to kill me? Or the bee? Either way, your aim needs improvement.”

Sebastian clenched his teeth, mustering up every bit of patience he could find. “Perhaps, you should not have worn a yellow gown along with that blasted lily and oranges perfume.”

The smile she gave him was sickly sweet as Christmas candy. The bee encircled them, its droning buzz almost loud enough to drown out her words. “Perhaps this bee is attracted to asses masquerading as gentlemen.”

He frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“I beg to differ.” Ivy calmly met his glare. “I find this all vastly amusing.”

With another grunt, Sebastian refocused his attention, feinting and parrying the tenacious insect like a buccaneer battling another pirate on the high seas. Two additional bumblebees appeared, the devil take them. The blasted winged demons appeared capable of calling in reinforcements, and banding together; they attacked with the fierceness of an uncivilized army. Were it not for the alarm in Ivy’s eyes, Sebastian suspected she possessed magical powers in the world of bees, the ability to summon hordes of the insects to do her bidding.

Standing to fight the damned things, his movements became further exaggerated by the precarious position. Carriages along the park’s gravel drive slowed. People on horseback stopped to watch the Earl of Ravenswood fight a battle against nearly invisible foes. To his great annoyance, Sebastian overheard many less than complimentary comments while the carriage rolled along at a sedate pace. Others could not be blamed for their curiosity. The scene bore all the exciting thrill of a bizarre, mobile play as it rolled by at a sedate pace.

“What the blazes is he doing?” One lord on a bay gelding inquired of a Marquis taking the air with his new wife in their new phaeton. The three watched as the distinctive dark blue carriage trundled past, the earl standing at full height, swinging the frilly parasol. Occasionally, he ducked his upper body from side to side, scowling and cursing.

“He appears quite possessed,” the marquis commented.

“Lady Kinley does not seem unduly distressed.” His new wife assessed the situation. “I do believe she is laughing.”

To be fair, it began as a giggle, smothered behind Ivy’s hand. As the battle against the bees became increasingly agitated, her giggles blossomed into choked gasps until she struggled to catch her breath. By the time Sebastian bellowed, “For God’s sake, man! Can’t the damn horses move any damned faster?” to poor, hapless Bowden, who doggedly continued along at the dignified pace a member of the realm needed to maintain in the middle of Hyde Park at two o’clock in the afternoon with the rest of Polite Society, Ivy was roaring with unrestrained peals of laughter.

Bowden responded to the harsh command with a click of his tongue and a snap of the whip. The horses leapt forward, eager to be away from whatever made the entire carriage shake and roll like a demon possessed vehicle from hell.

Sebastian lost his balance as the carriage lurched forward. Had they not rounded a curve on the gravel drive, he might have succeeded in regaining his stance or even landed backward onto the leather seat. He may have slid to the floor. Instead, he teetered, on the verge of tumbling over as Ivy let out a muffled scream. Snorting in alarm, the horses surged again as she managed to grasp a handful of his coat.

Sebastian did not remain in the carriage.

With instinctive reflexes, he tucked into a loose ball. A less than perfect rolling motion was executed upon hitting the ground, and he tumbled off the gravel path as the carriage rattled on without one of its passengers.

Puffed white clouds drifted across the deep blue expanse, the silhouettes of two birds darting to and fro far above him. Staring up at the sky, Sebastian struggled to breathe. Was it safe to unfurl his body? It didn’t feel like it. Hopefully this shortness of breath was simply the result of having the wind knocked from him and not from any broken ribs.

Shouts echoed in the distance, various gentlemen inquiring to his welfare. If he did not get to his feet soon, he’d find himself surrounded by those curious to learn what forces demolished the fearsome Earl of Ravenswood. He possessed a ready answer for that. Ivy Kinley. Should anyone be stupid enough to question him, it was Ivy Kinley who had laid him low.

Sebastian rose stiffly, brushing his legs off. Damn. His coat ripped after all. While Ivy’s cry sounded desperate when she grabbed for him, he now questioned its sincerity. She probably enjoyed watching him tumble from the carriage. Maybe she nudged him a little on his way over.

Waving away two lords approaching on horseback, Sebastian began the walk to where the carriage waited for him. Those fifty or so yards seemed more like fifty miles. Every living creature in Hyde Park surely watched his progress as he limped along, raking a hand through dust-powdered hair to shake out a few small pebbles caught in the waves. Spying the parasol in the gravel, he retrieved it, although it was a twisted mess of lace, boning and unfortunate silk blooms. He found a perverse pleasure in its destruction. I must have landed on it.

Ivy silently watched his approach from the backside of the carriage, eyes wide as he slapped the parasol with angry thumps against his leg, a delicate substitute for a riding crop.

Seeing the dangerous glitter in Sebastian’s eyes, she wisely uttered not a word, a slight twitch of her upper lip the only indication of her amusement. Bowden stared straight ahead, respectfully resisting any urge to turn and view his employer’s scuffed state. Even the horses knew better than to fidget or stamp with impatience as Sebastian placed both forearms on the carriage doorframe. Leaning heavily against it, his eyes closed for a brief moment. His sorely tried temper needed taming before he could contemplate speaking to her, much less sit in the same vehicle with her.

With a muttered curse, he flung the parasol with such force it bounced off the cream-colored leather seat to land at Ivy’s feet. Biting her lip, she picked it up.

“I tried to save you.” Her voice lilted with barely suppressed satisfaction as she examined the once pretty accessory. “I did not think you would go over the edge.”

“An unfortunate hazard, it seems.” Lifting his head, Sebastian watched a brightly colored butterfly flit up and over the carriage. It hovered about Ivy for second or two before continuing on its way.

“Oh? Do you fall from carriages on a regular basis?”

“I consistently find myself on the verge of some manner of edge around you. The edge of insanity, the edge of my temper.” He nearly ground his teeth to powder. “The edge of lust.”

Ivy swallowed hard. “I’m at a loss on how to remedy your problem.”

“I have several ideas. None you would like.”

Her head tilted in consideration. “How do you know that?”

“Trust me. Especially as you have no idea which emotion I may indulge.”

She met his scowl with a slow grin of acid sweetness. “I’ll require a new parasol to deal with your ill humors, my lord. Another rap on the head would be to your benefit, I think.”

* * *

A choked, strangled sound bubbled from Sebastian's throat. Ivy tightened her grip on the parasol. Would she need it to defend herself? Should the earl turn violent, would Bowden rouse the horses to carry her away if need be? She should mind her tongue when he was so angry...

A chuckle escaped him, followed by bellowing laughter.

Despite the frustration with the inability to tame the earl and her heartache with the decision she would never see him again, Ivy’s soul melted in a puddle of longing. Sebastian laughed, as she’d never heard before. Oh, he had chuckled in the time since she met him, grinning as they shared amusements, and she witnessed him enjoy humorous moments with Lord Bentley and other friends. This was different. This was genuine and real, twisting her heart in a way pretty words and passionate kisses would never achieve. She stared at him as he flung himself into the seat beside her, gaping while he swiped tears of merriment from his cheeks.

Had he ever laughed like this? Surely, he must have. Only, it must have been years and years, maybe even since before his parents died. This came from somewhere deep within him, a place where sunlight did not dare venture. Ivy wished to crawl up into Sebastian’s lap and kiss him for that beautiful, golden sound. It liquefied and burnt to a cinder every intention she possessed of erasing him from her life. She could not bear to let him go.

The carriage proceeded from Rotten Row to a more secluded section of the park, and the laughter faded, the lighthearted moment replaced by a shaky truce.

Sebastian regarded her solemnly. “Will you forgive me?”

Ivy’s heart thumped. If she accepted, things would go on as before. If she rejected the apology, Sebastian would deliver her to Kinley House, deposit her on the doorstep and that would be the end of matters. This business of forgiving him was becoming too familiar. And far too easy.

Her throat tight, Ivy nodded her consent as she examined the parasol. “The poor thing. You’ve ruined it.” And me. I’m at your mercy, fool that I am.

“It served its purpose well as Slayer of Bumblebees. I shall purchase you another, although I believe the cost is offset by the damage my coat suffered.” After showing her the rip in the garment, he took the parasol from her, tossing it to the opposite seat. “A rather flimsy weapon, but necessary for your protection.”

“My protection!” She gave him a mock frown. “You were only interested in saving yourself. It is a shame about your coat, although you might have avoided the mishap by not standing up in a moving carriage.”

“I’m convinced you assisted with my tumble.” The accusation was half-hearted even as he gave her that lazy grin which never failed to set her heart to racing.

“Perhaps I could have held tighter to you.” A giggle escaped Ivy at the thought of the earl waving the parasol around his head. “Oh, what do you suppose others thought? Our exploits shall keep the scandal sheets quite busy this week.”

“The gossipmongers can hang.” Sebastian reached for her, gathering her into his arms, tilting Ivy’s face so her pretty hat was not in his way. “Ah, Ivy…damn it all to hell. I might possess the willpower to resist you if your lips did not taste like the finest of wines.” His lips brushed against hers, laughter evident in sweetness of the gesture. “And if I did not have every intention of becoming intoxicated.” For a long moment, he kissed her, making up for the time missed over the past few weeks.

On the return to Kinley House, Ivy did the unthinkable, the rash, the absolute scandalous. She invited him to the monthly dinner.

“If you are otherwise engaged, it is understandable,” she assured him, the words hovering on her lips to remind him of the dinner’s intent. But surely, he knew. It was no secret this took place once a month. Sebastian was absent from London during the last one, but he must know.

Earlier, he had captured her hand, his fingers tangled with hers and every so often, he lifted it to his lips, his mouth skimming her knuckles. He did this now, lingering to taste her skin, sliding her palm to cup his clenched jaw. He held it there, the force of his hand covering hers and Ivy stayed, a willing prisoner.

“Of course, I shall come.” His gaze darkened. “I see no reason why this should not be a nightly occurrence.”

“Every night?” Ivy’s heart beat so erratically it was difficult to form words. The faint stubble of his chin scratched her palm, the heat of his skin warming hers. She dared not hope too much, but he could only intend one thing with a statement of this nature.

This would be the last night of the Pack’s monthly dinners. As each devotee requested her hand in marriage, Ivy would refuse in customary fashion until the last one. That request would be the one she wished for her entire life. When Sebastian proposed, she would say yes. Yes, with her heart unlocked, her soul open to his. A thousand yes’s.

Sebastian loved her. The spark in his eyes, how his breathing hitched whenever their gazes collided, it all told her the truth. A fire ignited between them when their flesh happened to touch, whether fingertips, or lips, or other, more intimate places. They belonged together. She belonged to him. She would say yes. To anything and everything he wanted. She would be his wife. His.

Ivy curbed her soaring exhilaration. “Eight o’clock, then.”

Sebastian waved Bowden’s help away as he exited the carriage. Gathering up her gloves and the ruined parasol, he handed them to a Kinley footman before gripping Ivy about the waist to swing her down. Pedestrians on Mayfair stared at the sight of the Earl of Ravenswood with his arms wrapped about the Countess of Somerset as though they were a married couple.

Setting her on the sidewalk, his embrace lasted longer than was proper. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Sebastian tilted her chin with a forefinger, his gaze inscrutable. “I shall count the seconds until I see you again.”