Could the woman who’d bolted from his bed be his uncle’s widow? Surely not!
Sebastian rubbed his chin. If she wasn’t the widow, then who, exactly, was she?
With a regretful sigh, he located the flint that had eluded him earlier and lit a few candles. A glance at the bed assured him he had not dreamt the unusually erotic encounter that had left him unsatisfied. The counterpane lay wrinkled at the foot of the bed and both pillows were quite disturbed.
He rubbed his fingers together and then held them up to his lips. She’d left a flowery, musky aroma that did nothing to quiet his awakened libido—dashed uncomfortable.
Was it lavender?
She could not have been the widow.
If she was not, that meant that Uncle George was not in love and was not planning to abandon his wicked ways. The man had nerve, that was for certain—attending a house party with his fiancée while also seeking out a dalliance.
In his fiancée’s brother’s house, no less.
He shook his head.
Sebastian removed his trousers before extinguishing the flame, drawing up the counterpane, and climbing back into bed. Of course, she’d thought it was George’s room. Upon arriving, his uncle had taken one look at the elegant chamber Lady Danbury had allotted Sebastian and promptly complained about the direction the windows faced in his own. Would his dearest nephew mind changing with him?
Sebastian couldn’t help chuckling that his uncle had indeed missed out for his want of a larger chamber. Ultimately, Sebastian would miss out as well. He’d halted their lovemaking too soon, or not soon enough, depending upon how he chose to look at it.
Sebastian plumped his pillow and then adjusted himself a second time. Damn, but he’d come so close to indulging in his favorite feast in the world. The scent on the pillow reminded him of silken hair beneath his hands, luxurious and inviting.
As he’d trailed his mouth down her body, he’d savored the anticipation of tasting her… all of her. Lavender, yes, it had been lavender, and he inhaled again, the sweet aroma of woman. Her mouth had been soft, as had been her hands and the skin between her thighs. Gripping himself and then sliding his hand up and down, he intentionally recalled the feel of her flesh and the texture of curling hairs where he’d buried his face.
Was it possible she was Uncle George’s widow and had intended to join her betrothed for an impulsive premarital night of lovemaking?
No, she’d asked him if he was upset that she’d come. Definitely not the widow. Furthermore, Sebastian considered it highly unlikely that a proper lady, one his uncle was willing to marry, no less, would be so very… enthusiastic about mouth play.
He licked his lips.
The woman who had climbed into his bed had wanted what he’d been going to give her. She’d been needy, moaning—and wet—so damn wet.
Definitely not the widow.
Someone else. Not a servant. Perhaps a companion, or a governess.
Sebastian’s mother had gone out of her way to point out that several pretty young ladies would be in attendance at this house party—despite the exorbitant travel distance required to attend.
A more likely possibility was that one of the married ones had found herself bored with her husband and Uncle George had made it known he was willing to provide her with nocturnal entertainment.
Thoughts of his mother and his uncle and some old lord’s unsatisfied wife chased Sebastian’s hands out from beneath the covers.
There was no way he could ask Uncle George who she was. “Say, Uncle, was it your fiancée or your mistress who climbed into my bed last night?”
He chuckled to himself.
Perhaps it would become obvious over the next few days. Perhaps the widow would sit quietly amongst the dowagers while the mistress made eyes in George’s direction.
Sebastian rolled over and shoved thoughts of tonight’s encounter from his mind. He’d traveled a great distance this week and was now content to have a well-deserved rest.
A shame though.
Sleep usually came much easier after a vigorous bout of lovemaking.
His cock twitched.
He wouldn’t be in this predicament if it had been the pretty little maid who climbed naked into his bed instead of a woman who’d mistaken him for his uncle, a man nearly thirty years Sebastian’s senior!
His body protested at the prospect of the maid, however. Damn, but he craved the woman whose scent remained on his hands. Surely, Uncle George was not overly attached to her?
“Did you sleep well in your upgraded accommodations?” Sebastian couldn’t help but ask. He’d only had a few minutes to speak with George the night before, but they’d agreed to meet early in the morning for a brisk ride.
George shrugged but stared straight ahead as he sat atop his mount overlooking the sea. “The mattress is a bit hard, but the sitting area is somewhat to my liking.”
Sebastian shook his head, at the same time appreciating the chill of the morning air. His uncle had always had quite expensive tastes.
“Not that I am not pleased to see my favorite nephew’s face,” George slid him a mocking sideways glance. “But shouldn’t you be in London, working on that newfangled ship of yours so you can sail around the world?”
Sebastian chose to ignore the slight; his parents viewed his intentions with equal disdain. Why would his uncle take them seriously? “Work proceeds without me.”
George let out a chortle, causing his horse to jump skittishly. He took a moment to calm him before speaking again. “Nonetheless, you needn’t have traveled such a great distance on my behalf. A dreadful distance, if I say so myself. Oftentimes, your mother takes more upon herself than necessary—to ask you to bring me something so sentimental and romantic was ridiculous. My intended, Lady Asherton, is not a frivolous woman. She would have been quite content to wait for the ring until we’ve returned to London. Although…” He rubbed his chin.
“Although?” Sebastian prompted.
“The ring is not only impressive but valuable. It may help smooth the way for me.”
“She is not eager to become Mrs. George Kirkley?” Were not all women in a hurry to get to the altar? Furthermore, as a widow would not Lady Asherton be even more so?
“She is, dear boy, but she is also… skittish.”
Danbury’s estate, aptly named Land’s End, was located on the most southwesterly coast of England. Rising at sunup to experience the dawn of a new day, not to mention the awe of the view from this cliff’s edge, filled a man’s imagination with endless possibilities. Noting the white of distant cresting waves, Sebastian’s mind skipped to the design of his current project. As was his habit, he pulled his journal along with a small pencil from inside his coat and made a note before tucking it away.
“Skittish? Eh?” he resumed the conversation with his uncle.
Sebastian stared at the man who’d inadvertently caused his sleepless night. He’d not seen his uncle for nearly a year, but although George was nearing fifty, his appearance never seemed to change. The older gentleman possessed a firm chin and kept himself arguably more fit and trim than men considerably younger. Others who were around George’s age, who had married, that was, appeared far older with their paunches and bald heads.
Sitting proudly atop his horse, the wind in his face, dear Uncle George was an encouraging reminder of the benefits of bachelorhood.