With a groan of frustration, Sebastian punched angrily at his pillow and rolled onto his back to stare up at the high canopy of his bed.
Miranda Hodgkins…Christ.
He’d gone mad. That was the only explanation for what had happened in the carriage. The woman had frustrated him to the point that he’d ceased all rational thought and restraint, pushing him right to the snapping point. And beyond.
Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, Miranda had grown up and become a woman. A very ripe, delectable temptress who knew exactly how to drive him into a frenzy the way no other woman ever had. Yet what angered him the most, what still made his blood run hot thinking about the encounter even now hours later, was knowing how completely wrong for him she was but wanting her anyway. In every way. And not just physically.
That was the part that stirred the most frustration inside him. Oh, she was pretty, all right, especially when she gave him that expression of innocent seduction when she bit her lip as she looked at him. But he’d been with women far more beautiful than Miranda, and none of them affected him the way she had. No, with Miranda it was more than physical attraction. She possessed a vitality and spirit that drew him, most likely because he had so little of that himself these days. When he was with her—when it was just the two of them together laughing or discussing poetry, debating politics, or simply walking silently together through the park—then he wasn’t the Duke of Trent. Then he was simply Sebastian. And he was happy.
He longed for that—to have all of her with him, in every way. Ways he simply couldn’t have as a duke. Including in his bed. And not just for one night.
Madness!
He rested his forearm over his eyes. Whatever caused this insanity—that unruly hair that couldn’t make up its mind whether to be red or blond, her laugh that always poured out of her at exactly the wrong moment, the way the stubborn gel stood up to him when most men had the good sense to be cowed, how she could infuriate him on the turn of a single word or make him laugh just as quickly—in the morning, he would put an end to it. They would come to an understanding. He would apologize; he would calmly explain that what happened between them could never happen again, that it had been a mistake—
A mistake? He laughed bitterly at himself. Wasn’t that how he’d gotten into this situation in the first place? Heaven only knew what would happen if he told her that a second time.
Even now as he lay staring into the darkness, the guilt gnawed at his gut. He’d been a cad, nearly ruining her—twice now, in fact—when he knew damned well that he could never marry her. He needed a suitable wife and duchess, one his father would have approved of. Certainly not the orphaned niece of a tenant farmer whom society would never accept. And that sent stabbing up inside him the worst guilt of all—because he knew his responsibility to his rank and to his family, knew that if he ruined her it would make it difficult for her to find a husband…yet selfishly he still wanted her and the happiness she could bring.
He was so tired of being Duke of Trent, so tired of the burdens he carried, so tired of wondering if he were living up to his father’s expectations. But when he was with Miranda, he could be himself. Not a peer whom everyone depended upon and whom everyone looked to for respectability, leadership, perfection…
But he was Trent. Always would be. And there was no help for it.
With a frustrated groan, he again punched the pillow and gave up completely on sleep.
The click of the opening door disturbed the silence of the room, followed by the rustle of soft movement.
He blew out an aggravated sigh. His valet was a good man and dedicated to his service, but tonight Sebastian didn’t want the fire banked or the drapes drawn. He wanted to be left alone to wallow in his misery. “What is it, Barlow?”
When the valet didn’t answer, Sebastian bit back a curse and sat up, the coverlet falling down around his hips—and froze.
Miranda.
She stood by the door, ethereal like a ghost in the soft shadows, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a driver’s coat that covered her from neck to shoes. But he would have recognized that pert nose anywhere, along with the determined lift of her chin and the clenched hands at her sides. A fury in men’s clothing.
His eyes narrowed in quick anger. So it wasn’t enough to frustrate him in the carriage by giving him a taste of what he could never have. She’d now come to taunt him some more in his own home.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. The damned woman was pushing him right to the edge of his patience.
“Swallowing my pride,” she whispered, her enigmatic words as soft as the firelight playing its fading shadows across her face.
She reached up and removed the hat, and as she dropped it away, her hair tumbled down freely around her shoulders and back. His gut clenched as instant arousal pulsed through him.
Beneath the coverlet that hid the lower half of his naked body, his cock hardened at the memory of what they’d done in the carriage, so suddenly that he inhaled a pained breath through clenched teeth. He watched in sweet torment as she reached down to slip off her left shoe and let it drop away to the floor, then did the same with the other. With each piece of clothing she removed, desire coiled tighter inside him.
“You need to leave,” he ordered, his voice far huskier than he’d intended. And far from convincing.
“After I had to try all the bedroom doors before I found you? No.”
“If someone discovers you here—”
“I’m tired of your warnings, Sebastian.” She boldly held his gaze across the room. “From now on, I’m doing whatever I want.”
With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned the long coat. Each button she slid free revealed a stretch of flesh or thin gauzy material beneath, each one a punch to his gut. Unaware of how torturous it was for him to watch her undress, she pushed the coat off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor around her feet. Then she stood as still as a statue, as if daring him to look his fill of her, wearing the same dress she’d worn the night of his mother’s party. His mouth went dry.
God help him. Lady Rose had returned.
Knowing he had to get her out of the room so he wouldn’t repeat the mistake from the carriage, no matter how much he wanted to, he chastised, “You’re making a habit of stumbling into my bedchamber by accident.”
“No accident.” She shrugged a nearly bare shoulder beneath the satin ribbons that held the loosely fitted bodice in place. “I found exactly the right room this time.”
His cock ached for her, and his head swam with confusion. She was completely wrong…yet so perfectly right.
“What we did in the carriage,” she told him softly, “it isn’t over. You and I have unfinished business.”
His tolerance snapped. Biting out a curse, he leapt from the bed and charged across the room like a bull. She gasped when she realized he was completely naked and averted her eyes, then she retreated until her back hit the wall beside the door.
But Sebastian closed in on her, frustration and aggravation boiling inside him. He planted his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders, not caring what she thought of having a naked man standing so close to her that he was almost touching her. And not only a naked man but a fully aroused one, too. But at that moment, with the temptation she presented only flaming his frustration until it tightened inside him like a spring, he didn’t give a damn.
“I won’t marry you just because I touched you,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “So if that’s why you’re here—”
“I’m not here to trap you into marriage.” Still not daring to look at him, she raised her chin in a flash of indignation.
He took her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes flared brightly in the dim shadows, mirroring the anger he was certain shone in his. “Then why are you here?”
“Because I like you,” she breathed, the confession tearing from her so softly that her words were barely a sound at all, “so much more than I should.”
His heart stuttered painfully as he stared at her, momentarily stunned. He didn’t dare let himself believe he’d heard her correctly. He simply couldn’t have. Because if he had…Dear God. To be this close to having a chance at happiness, only to know that it could never be his—
“Miranda,” he rasped out, unable to say anything more as his voice caught in his throat. She had no idea of the temptation she presented for him, or the torture she was putting him through.
All of her trembled now as she whispered, “And I thought maybe…”
“What?” he pressed, lowering his head until their eyes were even and his mouth was so close to hers that he could feel the heat of her panting little breaths shivering over his lips.
“Oh, you infuriating man!” She shoved at his shoulder, but he refused to back away. “I want to do it again, damn you! What we did in the carriage—” Her voice cracked with frustration and embarrassment. “I came here because I hoped you might like me, too, enough to want to—”
He lunged forward and captured her mouth beneath his.
Unable any longer to resist her, he shoved his hand into her hair and grasped the silky strands between his fingers, to hold her head still beneath his kiss as his mouth ravished hers. He was ravenously hungry, both for the taste of her and for the vivaciousness radiating from her that drew him the way no other woman ever had, and he devoured her kiss in great, greedy mouthfuls.
A whimper of need escaped her. He drank in the sound, his blood surging hot with desire as he plunged his tongue between her lips to taste the sweetness inside, reveling in the electric thrill that cascaded through him. She was infuriating, challenging, aggravating to a fault…and wholly irresistible. She liked him, and not the title he’d inherited but the man he’d shaped himself to be. With nothing more than that whispered confession, she’d completely undone him.
A groan of surrender tore from the back of his throat, and he was lost in her. At that moment, with her softness pressing against his hard body, making herself vulnerable, he didn’t give a damn about the dukedom or propriety; all he knew was that he needed her in order to escape the prison his life had become, if only for one night. All of her.
He tore his mouth away from hers and nipped at the tender column of her throat as his hands stroked up and down her body. Now that she was here with him, he didn’t want to stop touching her, as if in some irrational fear that she truly was nothing but a ghost and would vanish in the night.
“I don’t want to do what we did in the carriage,” he rasped out, then licked at the hollow of her throat where he could feel her heartbeat racing. For him. The sensation left all of him aching.
Clinging to him, she gasped for breath as she panted out in confusion, “You don’t? But I thought—”
“I want so much more than that,” he breathed hotly against her lips, before kissing her languidly and reveling in her soft response. “I want all of you, understand?” He cupped her breast against his palm through the thin material, and she shuddered. “I want every breath and shiver, every laugh and smile…”
He lowered his head to take her nipple between his lips, teasing at it gently until it pebbled against his tongue even through the crêpe. When he lifted his head, a wet circle showed on her gown where he’d had his mouth on her, a possessive mark that revealed her dusky nipple behind the translucent material.
“Every secret in every inch of you,” he promised against her lips, his mouth returning to hers.
Moaning softly, she arched her back against the wall to push her breasts harder against him. He throbbed at the delicious sight of her, her eyes closed as if his nearness was unbearable but her full lips parted with desire to be taken. A beautiful contradiction, just like the strong yet kind woman she was. So fierce yet so fragile. The woman who could never be his…who was now his for the night.
“If you want to leave, you need to go now,” he warned, his voice little more than a rasp in his aching need for her. “If you stay, you’ll be ruined. And I cannot marry you.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared up at him, her green depths a stormy sea of excitement and desire, arousal and nervousness. He traced his thumb across her bottom lip and elicited from her in a soft whisper, “I don’t want to leave.”
Cupping her face in his hands, he rested his forehead against hers, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of emotions. Relief and affection warred in equal measure with the guilt churning inside him, yet he still wanted her, still needed her, even knowing that he could never offer her a future without betraying his father’s faith in him. Something he would never do again with any woman. Even Miranda.
“I don’t need any more warnings from you, Sebastian. I know what I want.” She slid her mouth along his jaw to his ear and whispered, “I want to inspire you.”
He exhaled a long breath in an attempt to slow his racing heart as it jumped into a furious beat. “You already do, Rose,” he murmured. “More than you realize.”
“Then show me.”
He grinned wickedly at that, and his hand stroked slowly down her body and slipped beneath her skirt to tenderly caress between her thighs. “You mean like this?”
She moaned and rolled back her head. “That’s a good start,” she agreed in soft pants, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her sex began to quiver with quick arousal against his fingers. “Oh yes…that’s good…very good…”
With a low laugh, he reached over to the door and threw the lock.
* * *
Miranda bit back the moan on her lips as his fingers continued their gentle caresses between her legs. Oh, those clever fingers! Her body heated instantly, and the ache at his fingertips grew even more intense than it had been in the carriage now that she knew how good it felt to have his hands on her, stroking her, exploring her. She gasped as he grazed the sensitive nub buried in the top of her folds, and her arms clenched around his neck to keep from falling to the floor.
Then his hand slipped away. The sudden loss was unbearable, and she whimpered and wiggled her hips invitingly to coax him back.
“Shh,” he murmured, his lips resting against her temple as his hands stroked soothingly down her arms to her hips. “We’ve got all night, sweet. No need to rush.”
“But I want—”
“So do I.” He lifted her off the floor to carry her across the room to his bed. He laid her on the mattress, then followed down on top of her. “Very.” He kissed her lips. “Very.” His mouth slid down her throat to kiss into the hollow between her breasts. “Very much.”
“Sebastian,” she moaned plaintively as fire flared inside her fluttering belly, her fingers combing through his silky hair as he continued to cover her cleavage with kisses. To have Sebastian’s attentions on her was so much more wonderful than she could have imagined, this time alone with him far more precious.
“You wore the masquerade dress,” he mumbled, then he placed a savoring kiss on the inside curve of her breast.
“Yes.” She fought to breathe, not understanding how a simple kiss could steal her breath away. “You’d said you liked it.”
“A great deal.” His lips curved into a devilish smile at her thoughtfulness. “Lady Rose.”
She couldn’t resist running her fingertip over that smile, then laughing as he bit playfully at her finger. So unlike the Sebastian who had been so glum and reserved since his father’s death, so unlike the duke who had been so stern and cross with her these past few weeks. Oh, she very much liked this version of him best. This was the man whose arms she wanted to be in tonight, whom she wanted to give herself to, knowing how tender and careful he would be with her.
He lifted onto his forearm beside her to flutter his hand along the side of her body. “You know what’s even better than you in this dress?”
Heat rose everywhere he touched. “What?”
“You out of this dress,” he murmured hotly.
Her breath hitched at the pulse of nervousness his words sent spiraling through her. He’d seen her uncovered from the waist up. But he’d never seen all of her.
He gently tugged at her skirt. “It’s only fair.” The heat in his eyes as he stared down at her set her on fire. “Since I’m not wearing anything.”
Sweet heavens, he wasn’t! Her belly knotted with trepidation. While she hadn’t looked at him, not there, she had the feeling that he very much planned on looking at her everywhere. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “But what if…”
“Hmm?” Another caress of his hand up and down her body, this time pulling the skirt higher up her thighs.
She trembled as goose bumps covered her bared legs. “What if you don’t like what you see?” she whispered aloud her fear, so soft her lips barely formed the words.
His eyes softened with understanding. “But I will like it,” he assured her even as his hand inched up the skirt until the hem lay just beneath the juncture of her thighs. “I’m positively certain, in fact.”
She trembled, all of her tensing in sudden apprehension. She didn’t want him to stop, but…“But what if you don’t? Can I—” She choked as he inched the hem even higher, exposing her triangle of feminine curls to the cool night air. Thankfully, his eyes never left hers. She didn’t think she could have borne it if he’d looked down at her at that moment. “Can I put the dress back on?”
He chuckled, and the warm sound rumbled into her. “Yes, you can.” The fabric slid across her hips to her belly. “But you won’t want to.”
As he untied the ribbons at her shoulders to release the bodice, then slid the dress over her head and off, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his expression when he saw her completely naked for the first time, if he compared her to those fine ladies he’d been with before and found her lacking—
“Dear God…you are so beautiful.”
She smiled as a soft laugh of happiness and relief bubbled from her. Sebastian thought she was beautiful! Even wearing nothing at all. She was right—he would make tonight wonderful for her, the way no other man could.
She opened her eyes. Wildfire tore through her at the raw desire she saw on his face as he gazed down at her, and she shivered from the intensity of him. Everywhere his eyes lingered on her body flames prickled beneath her skin, the force of it nearly overwhelming.
“I’m sorry to tell you this.” He rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip and said with teasing solemnity, “But the dress stays off all night, I’m afraid.”
“Sebastian!” she scolded, her cheeks flushing with an instant blush.
Laughing, he lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek against hers, and his midnight beard scratched tantalizingly across her soft skin. So very masculine. And for this moment, all hers. Her heart soared with the joy of that.
“Have I ever told you how much I enjoy the way you blush?” He placed a kiss on her lips before she could answer. “How inspiring I find it?”
Which only caused the blush to deepen and left her speechless.
“It starts here.” He brushed his lips across her cheekbone. “And lingers here.” Then down her jawline to her neck. “And here.” Down farther until his mouth was on her breast. “And ends right here.”
When he took her nipple between his lips and sucked, she arched up off the mattress with a strangled gasp. Oh, his wicked mouth! He knew exactly how to torture and pleasure her at the same time, how to softly suck yet generate a fierce ache all the way down between her legs. How to make her whimper for more beneath the breathless onslaught of licks and sucks and nibbles.
“Such a beautiful blush,” he mumbled against her breast. “Which makes me wonder…”
She bit her lip to hold back her curiosity as long as she could, even knowing he was baiting her— “Wonder what?” she asked, unable to help herself as her fingers ran wild over his shoulders and bare back, loving the feel of his muscles rippling beneath her seeking fingertips.
“If other places on your body also blush.”
She tensed. Surely he didn’t mean—
“Like here.” He lowered himself to lick at her belly in slow, languid circles as his hand stroked along her inner thigh. “Or here.”
Oh heavens, he did mean…And he couldn’t—simply couldn’t! Not there of all places.
With a push at the headboard, she slid herself down beneath him, until her eyes were level with his, her bare toes touching his calves. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders to keep him right there.
“Do you blush?” she asked, as seductively as possible despite the nervous twitter in her voice as she turned their playful conversation onto him. “How about here?”
She placed a kiss in the middle of his chest, and he chuckled. But when she slid her mouth sideways and captured his flat male nipple between her lips and sucked at him the way he’d done to her, the laughter strangled in his throat.
Turnabout was fair play, after all. He shuddered as she took his nipple between her teeth and nibbled—oh, how very much she enjoyed their play!
“Or here?” she whispered, running her hands down his bare back to cup his hard buttocks against her palms.
When she squeezed, he inhaled sharply. Her name came as a soft warning on his lips. But he’d been warning her all week—all season, in fact—and she was tired of his warnings.
If he truly wanted to warn her, then she’d give him something to worry about. “Here.”
She slid her hand between them and folded her fingers around his erection, and a plaintive groan tore from him. She gave a devilish laugh and stroked along his length the way he’d shown her in the carriage.
“Sweet Lucifer,” he murmured as he rose up onto his hands and knees over her to give her room to work her pleasures on him. His head bowed low, and his eyes squeezed shut.
He hung large and stiff in her hand, and with each stroke, he seemed to grow impossibly larger and harder. Like magic. She twisted her palm around him, teasing him with her fingers the way she wanted him to do to her again before the night was over. All night, he’d promised her. And she planned on savoring every precious moment of it.
Tentatively, yet urged on by the low growls of satisfaction coming from the back of his throat, she slipped her second hand down between his legs to cup his testicles against her palm. He shuddered at the contact, and she thrilled with it. A wantonness swelled inside her that she’d never known before, and as he rested heavy against her palm, with her other hand still stroking his shaft, she gently squeezed.
His hips bucked as a curse shot from his lips.
He grabbed her hands away and lifted her arms over her head. “Keep doing that,” he cautioned in a husky voice, “and the night will be over sooner than we’d both like.”
She laughed and rose up to lick her tongue across his collarbone. The delicious taste of him made her even more bold, even more confident in herself. Testing his resolve, she wiggled her hips. He let out a growl of warning and pinned her to the mattress with his hips.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped hoarsely against her lips as his mouth found hers again, kissing her hard and urgently. All of him shivered hotly.
“For what?” She stilled instantly, and her heart pounded with a mix of nervousness and arousal. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want her after all?
“I can’t wait any longer for you.” He reached down and hooked her right leg around his waist, then the left, until his body hovered just above hers in the cradle of her thighs. “I wanted to savor you, but I need you too badly.” His hand caressed between her legs, and she trembled at the delicious feel of his fingers against her, the wonderful caresses she so much enjoyed. Only Sebastian could make her feel this special. “You’re so wet and warm already…” He sucked at her bottom lip and purred, “Good.”
“Good?” She was mortified that he would mention that, and the blush flared up across her cheeks again.
He groaned. “Very much so.”
When she felt his fingers parting the soft lips of her sex and the tip of his erection settling against her, she realized what he meant. “Sebastian,” she whispered, and touched his cheek, trying to show him how much she cared about him, how special he had become to her. Without hesitation, knowing tonight was good and right only because of him, she begged for what she wanted most— “Please.”
He lowered his hips and sank inside her, one unhurried inch at a time.
Holding her breath at the slow invasion, she tightened her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck as her body expanded to take him in. With each inch he sank deeper, the cradle of her hips widened around him, and she shifted uneasily to make herself more relaxed. Not painful, not exactly, but the growing pressure was decidedly uncomfortable. She forced down the sting of disappointment that this new intimacy wasn’t nearly as pleasant as what he’d done with her in the carriage. Still, being close to Sebastian was wonderful, and she sought to drink in the quiet strength and delicious warmth of him.
Then he stopped moving and lay motionless above her, still raised up on his forearms.
She opened her eyes, expecting a smile from him, but hard-won restraint hardened his face, with his jaw clenched tight and his eyes screwed shut. Every inch of him was tense and taut, hard and smooth as marble. Her heart pounded with uncertainty.
“Sebastian?” she breathed, and the soft sound of his name fell through the silence between them, mixing with the joined pounding of their hearts.
He opened his eyes and gazed down at her, and the raw need in their blue depths ripped her breath away. Then he whispered her name and plunged his hips down against hers, thrusting fully inside her and tearing through the thin resistance of her maidenhead.
Miranda gasped at the sharp pain of being filled so completely so suddenly, at the weight of his hips fully seated against her spread thighs—but his mouth covered hers in the sweetest, gentlest kiss imaginable, and soothed away the cry on her lips. The contradiction of sensations sent her spinning.
Then he began to move, this time rocking his hips against hers to stroke slowly and smoothly inside her, and the pain dissolved into utter pleasure. Oh, it was wonderful! He was doing to her with his body what his fingers had done in the carriage, only so very much more…more filling, more silky smooth, more delicious weight pressing down on her. His entire body caressed hers with each plunge and retreat, as if making love to her with his entire being. Any doubts that still lingered about giving herself to him tonight and expressing with her body the feelings she didn’t dare utter aloud vanished like fog beneath the morning sun.
She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in deep the sweet smell of him that filled up her senses, taking a quick lick of his sweat-salty skin to taste him. Delicious. It was impossible that any other woman had ever felt as complete as she did with Sebastian inside her, impossible that any other man could be this much of a perfect fit with her, both with her body and with her heart. She nearly laughed as sheer joy bubbled inside her. Sebastian Carlisle, the most impossible man in the world for her, had proven to be the perfect man with whom to share this moment.
“You are so beautiful, Miranda,” he whispered against her temple, and his sweet words made tears gather at her lashes.
“So are you,” she choked out.
He laughed softly at her slip of the tongue and kissed her, so heatedly, so possessively that she shuddered at the intensity of it. How could she not care for this man when he made her feel this special? Did he even realize the effect he had on her? She slid her mouth away from his to caress her lips across his cheek so that he couldn’t see the flash of emotion on her face, because she knew that she could never tell him.
He groaned, and his large hands grabbed her hips, guiding her in a shared, primal rhythm. Her body instinctively knew what it needed from him, arching off the bed to eagerly meet each thrust of his hips with her own until she nearly exhausted herself. Yet she still craved more, still yearning for the wondrous release he had given her earlier, the same release she was certain his body was capable of giving her now.
“Sebastian,” she whimpered, shifting beneath him in an attempt to bring him impossibly closer to the throbbing spot inside her, helpless against the aching intensity spreading through her body and the warmth blossoming in her heart.
“Yes, sweet,” he murmured, as if knowing exactly what she needed. He hooked his arms beneath her knees, lifting her legs and rolling her onto her upper back. “Whatever you wish.”
He lifted his hips and thrust hard, grinding his pelvis against her and shooting a jarring shudder of pleasure through her. She gasped at the intensity of having him so far inside her at such a new angle, joining the two of them impossibly closer and stealing her breath away.
He pulled back until only the tip of him remained inside her, then he drove forward again. And this time, oh, sweet heavens, this time—
Dark spots flashed across her eyes. Sparks shot through her, flying out the ends of her fingers and toes. Her body convulsed violently around his, her intimate folds quivering as all the tiny muscles inside her bore down around him, then released with a shudder so intense that a cry of pleasure poured from her.
He kissed her and drank in her cries as he continued to stroke inside her, but she was unable to do anything more than simply lie there trembling as the undulating waves of release spread over her. Now his thrusts came fast and deep, soft little growls of his own need for release filling her senses, swirling inside her head and engulfing her.
One last, powerful thrust—then with a groan, he pulled quickly out of her. His arms clasped her tightly to him as he shuddered, and she felt a rush of liquid warmth against her inner thigh as he spilled himself onto the mattress beneath her. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy body pressing against hers and his forehead resting against her bare shoulder as he struggled to regain his breath.
Amazed by what had just happened between them, for a moment not believing that it hadn’t been only a dream, Miranda lifted her hands to caress his back. Beads of perspiration wetted her fingertips. She smiled as she kissed his temple and tightened her arms around his trembling body. How could she have ever been wary of this wonderful, amazing man when she had the power to make him tremble so helplessly like this? How could she have been so blind to him for so many years?
Caught up in the exhilaration of being in his arms and of the astonishing pleasures he brought to her, she laughed a soft little giggle of pure happiness.
He lifted his head to smile down at her, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction and soft with affection. “What is it, sweet?”
“I was just thinking,” she admitted as she brushed her fingertips at the sweat-dampened lock of blond hair that fell across his forehead, “that a love scene would have made Hamlet perfect.”
He laughed and lowered his mouth to hers, to kiss her with a sultry languidness that tasted of happiness, pleasure, and…Was that possession? But she supposed he had a right to feel that way, since she’d given herself to him tonight in every possible way, all the way down to her soul. And she didn’t regret a moment of it.
But when he shifted his weight away to lie beside her on the bed, Miranda knew she had to be careful with her heart. Sebastian would never think of her as belonging to him beyond the physical passion they’d just shared. He’d been very clear about that. Oh, certainly he would be kind and caring as much as he could, but they could never have more than this. She knew that; she’d accepted that before she came here tonight. And yet, as his strong arms wrapped around her and drew her back against his chest, his lips nuzzling against her nape, she had to admit that belonging here with him was nice.
Very nice, in fact.
So nice that she could easily become used to being with him like this, the protective strength of his arms encircling her, the warmth of his breath tickling against her neck, his heartbeat pulsing quietly into her bare back. As if he didn’t want to let go of her.
But she couldn’t stay, and even now her eyes stung at the thought that this would be the most he could ever be to her. A friend, a lover…someone with whom to share laughter and affection but not a future. Sebastian might find joy with her, but the Duke of Trent had to find a life with someone else.
She blinked hard. “I should leave,” she whispered into the dark shadows as the ache in her chest began to grow stronger.
“Stay.” He reached down to draw the coverlet over her to keep her tucked into bed with him, then placed a delicate kiss on her bare shoulder. “We have all night, remember.”
She latched on to the only excuse she could give without revealing her heart. “I need to return to Audley House before the servants wake and see me slipping in through the cellar door.”
“I’ll make certain you return home safely without any problems.” His arms tightened around her. “But for tonight I want to hold you right here.”
Even as he said that, though, his words slurred from exhaustion, and his voice thickened with sleep. So she stayed, because she knew he would soon fall asleep and then she could slip away without disturbing him. And without him seeing the tears she was certain would fall. Not in regret—never. She would never regret a moment of tonight. But she knew she would mourn for what more they would never share.
Sebastian Carlisle…Whoever would have thought she would have surrendered her innocence to him? All these years her heart had been infatuated with Robert and never once considered that it might very well be Sebastian whom she wanted to kiss her instead, with whom she wanted to engage in scandalous conversations at operas and plays, whom she…
Loved.
Her heart skipped hard as the utter hopelessness of their situation washed painfully over her.
He was an impossible choice, yet she’d known when she came here that what she felt was so much more than simple physical attraction. Somehow, creeping upon her so slowly that she never saw it coming, she’d fallen in love with the other Carlisle brother.
And there was no hope for it.