The Seduction of Sebastian St. James(26)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

The face of an angel slept in front of him. For a moment he willed her to open her eyes just so he could gaze into them. Soft reddish brown hair fell around her perfect cheekbones. Reaching out, he caressed her neck then rained kisses down her nose.

His body was tighter than a drum, if the girl decided to move again he would lose all control and truly finish the job John had planned to start, and she didn’t deserve that. As much as his body screamed for it, she didn’t deserve to be mauled the same day she was rescued from someone who had almost raped her.

So immobile he sat, as straight and firm as a statue, lest she touch him and remove all self control he possessed, and even that was hanging on by a fine thread.

And then she squirmed, nearly sending him into a fit of curses, and then repeated it again and again until finally she was awake and tracing his features with her hands.

They smelled like lemons.

Curse lemons and any fruit trying to cause him to sin in the worst of ways.

It would be unforgiveable.

“Sebastian, I need you,” Emma whispered and then he felt her lips brush his.

With the last bit of restraint in his possession, he tenderly returned her kiss, as innocent as he could manage, and then cupped her face. “You’re tired, Emma, go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“No.” Clawing at him, she pulled him closer.

Not good.

“This. You. Right now. I need you, Sebastian.”

And then the minx was kissing him again. In all his years it had been easy to push women away, especially the ones his grandmother had thrown in his direction in hopes he would somehow slip up with his good reputation.

In this moment, as her soft lips pressed innocently against his, he realized he had pushed all those women away so he could pull this one closer.

So he did.

Moaning, he relented, pressing his body firmly against Emma’s softness. It was heaven. He wanted to die.

Though her kiss was innocent, it was perfect. Her lips had a way of burning against his, searing his soul. He took until he couldn’t think straight. And then it occurred to him. He was quite successfully being used.

Yes, he was sure of Emma’s affection, but she wanted him to make her pain go away, to make the past turn into nothing, to make it not matter anymore.

Though she would hate him, and worse of all cry, he needed to stop this madness. To protect Emma from herself. He desperately wanted her to realize that in the morning he married her not because he had to, not because he felt sorry for her or because she gave herself to him, but because he wanted her, and he loved her more than life itself.

“Emma,” he said as he slowly pushed her away. His body cursed his every move. “Emma, no. Not like this.”

She froze. He didn’t know if words would make anything better, or if he merely should pray she would be too tired to remember.

“You—you don’t want me?”

How could she even think that?

“I do, Emma. You know I do.” He pulled at her hands and gently ran them down his torso and even lower until her innocent eyes widened. “Can you not feel the way my body responds to your every move? I ache for you like I’ve never ached for anyone in my life. But I won’t have you this way. I want all of you, not a piece of you because you’re hurt, but everything.”

Abruptly Emma pulled away to the farthest edge of the bed. He could hear her muffled sobs echo through the room.

Rejection never felt good, and he felt like an absolute cad that he had even given in for those briefest of moments. But he intended to marry her, and he didn’t want a shadow of doubt hanging over what should be the happiest moment of her life.

****

To say that Sebastian didn’t sleep a wink would be a gross understatement. He had in fact woken up so early he had to wait for the blacksmith to awaken as well. It wasn’t odd to have a ceremony performed by a blacksmith instead of a vicar, though he hoped the blacksmith could point him in the direction of a vicar. He didn’t want Emma to have to say her vows over the anvil. But considering the innkeeper said nobody would be awake at this horrid hour, his best bet was to have a conversation with the blacksmith, who would surely be awake this early.

An hour went by before the light in the blacksmith’s was lit. Sebastian didn’t waste a moment knocking on the door and pleading his case.

Arrangements were made within the hour, and he whistled the entire way back to the inn. Only to stop dead in his tracks as he watched Emma plead with Rawlings to take her home.

Rawlings, poor chap, looked caught between telling her the truth that she was, in fact, going home not as Emma Gates, but as the Duchess of Tempest and just plain running in the other direction.

Coward.

“Emma, what has you out so early? I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

She refused to make eye contact, only bit her lip and kept her eyes focused on Rawlings, who chose this moment to kick a rock and look up to the sky. Poor chap.

“Rawlings, if you’ll just excu—” Sebastian didn’t even get the rest of the sentence out before Rawlings had tipped his hat and turned on his heel toward the inn.

Emma’s face followed Rawlings’ retreating form, her fists clenched, and as much as Sebastian would love to see her unleash all that pent up anger on an unsuspecting Rawlings, he had better plans.

“Shall we?” Extending his arm, he waited in vain for her to take it.

Instead she fell into step beside him with her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Emma looked up at him with a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “For what?”

“For a great many things, but most of all, for letting you down when you needed me the most. For being a coward when I made you believe I wasn’t falling in love with you, and most of all, for waiting until now to tell you how desperately I need you. Will you marry me?”

****

As far as proposals went, it had to be one of the better ones Emma had ever heard. And yet, she doubted him. No, that wasn’t true. She doubted herself, doubted that he would in fact love her—all of her, including her soiled reputation.

“You don’t understand, Sebastian. I can’t marry you, for reasons you yourself displayed ever so plainly to me upon our first meeting. You desire a woman of consequence, someone without stain or blemish, and that is all I will bring you. A stain. A blemish. Nothing but heartache and a reputation that will forever be attached to your family’s good name. So, no. For as much as I love you, I could never do that to you.”

She pulled away but was crushed by the heavy weight of his arms. And then he was kissing her. She tried to fight, to push him away as her heart shattered into a million pieces inside. To kiss her, to give her one last taste was the cruelest of tricks.

“Emma,” he said against her lips. “I know, Emma. I know everything.”

The fight left, replaced by anger, and then confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Rawlings. He told me everything. I make my offer of marriage knowing full well who I attach myself to. Miss Emma Gates, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, honest, adventurous though it might be the death of me and give me gray hair. And dare I say quite possibly the most delicious dancer I’ve ever known? Emma, I want you, all of you. Reputation and all.”

“Truly?”

Sebastian growled as he pulled her in, kissing her hard on the mouth. “If you say no, I’ll come after you. I’ll never stop. I may even ruin my own reputation in the process.”

“You wouldn’t!” Squirming in his arms, she laughed. “I love you.”

He stilled and then tilted his head toward hers. “And I you. Does that mean yes, sweet Emma?”

Tears pooled in her eyes as she nodded. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Perfect. Let’s be on our way then.” Tugging at her arm, he pulled her down the street.

“Sebastian?” Looking around, Emma thought it was possibly a trick. Did he truly mean now?

“Oh yes, left that part out, my apologies. We’re getting married now. I already have the vicar waiting, Rawlings will be present, good fellow he is. Did you know he thought I was playing with your heartstrings?”

So Rawlings had truly been trying to protect her as well as win her as his own bride. It left her wondering what he would do now. He seemed happy enough though as stubborn as ever, not letting her leave the inn until Sebastian returned.

Emma felt like she was walking on clouds. Each step she took with Sebastian seemed to get faster until finally she felt like running. The only thing that kept her at a normal pace was years of training on how a lady should present herself in public.

In the back of her mind, she wondered how much her reputation would harm Sebastian, but the fact he loved her despite it was enough to push it even further into her mind.

Because in less than an hour, she would be his wife.

Chapter Twenty-six

Sebastian had half a mind to pay the vicar to merely sign the marriage certificate so he could be Emma’s husband and have the whole situation done with. He craved her, needed her, and was tired of waiting.

As the vicar finally pronounced them man and wife, Sebastian, unable to control himself any longer, pulled Emma into his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth in front of God and Rawlings.

Rawlings snickered and turned away. Sebastian lifted his eyes as Rawlings waited at the door. The man tipped his hat and was off. He had only stayed to be a witness in case there needed to be one and now he was gone.

The friendship once so tattered and broken had begun to heal, just one more thing Sebastian was thankful for.

It was too late for them to travel back so soon, and Sebastian wanted a night with his new duchess before he was to meet the faces of the ton and that of his grandmother, though he knew she would be pleased. He had already told her of his intentions.

Although he still couldn’t figure out why the woman had winked and patted him on the back as if she had anything to do with it.

Sebastian watched in fascination as his bride walked ahead of him into their bedroom. The innkeeper had managed to find them a larger room, and Sebastian had also arranged for a bottle of wine as well as a bath for his bride.

He wasn’t thinking Emma would necessarily need a bath, but knew it might comfort her before the night ahead. He didn’t pretend to know how women’s minds worked, he merely knew it would be better for her to relax.

Closing the door behind him, he walked toward Emma, telling himself repeatedly he needed to take things slow, when all he wanted to do was rip her dress in half and devour her.

Romance, she deserved to be treasured, cherished. Stifling the array of curses that managed to make their way to his lips, he watched as Emma began taking off her bonnet, the pins in her hair and then—

“Sebastian?”

Clearing his throat, he answered, “Yes?”

“Could you help me? I can’t manage the buttons on my dress.”

Innocent? Hardly. The coy smile on her lips was telling enough, the minx. Approaching her, he pulled at her shoulders to turn her around, all the while telling himself to breath in and out.

As his fingers brushed the buttons lining the back of her dress, he had to pause in order to keep himself from taking out a knife and cutting it off of her. One button and then two, he had to keep repeating how many she had, lest he continue to be tempted beyond what he could bear. After all, his wife needed his assistance, and this was now something he could help her with.