CHAPTER 15

“Very well, miss.”

Neither Clara not Fleet moved as Segsbury walked away with stately displeasure. The hall was quite as his footsteps died away.

“I wanted to see you,” Clara said.

“So it seems. It was not, perhaps, your wisest decision.” Fleet’s entire body was taut with what Clara assumed was anger.

“Last night—

“Miss Davencourt, we really must not discuss this.” her. “What do you want to do instead, your grace? Sweep it under the carpet because it is difficult for us to face up to so inconvenient an attraction?”

“No,” Fleet ground out. “What I want is to have you.”

Clara felt a sudden, treacherous excitement. It caught like a flare, blazing into shocking and sensual life. Fleet’s eyes darkened with concentrated passion. He took one step forward, grabbed both her arms and his mouth captured hers, swift and sure.

Clara instinctively moved closer to him. All conscious thought fled her mind. Her arms went about him, fingers tangling in his hair. He tasted faintly of brandy and strongly of desire. The kiss grew frantic, then rough, almost brutal. The shock of it sent a blaze of feeling right to the center of Clara’s body.

His impatient hands were already pushing aside silk and lace, and when he closed his hand over her ******, warm and hard against her bare skin, she gave a desperate moan as she felt her legs start to buckle. He half pulled, half carried her through the library door, slamming it shut behind them.

Then they were down on the rug before the fire and she was clutching at his shoulders. His tongue and teeth had replaced his fingers at her ******, and she squirmed and arched in quick delight to his touch.

She was shaking; so was he. Clara noticed it with astonishment, for surely this man was supposed to be an experienced rake. Yet he touched her with reverence as well as ferocious desire, as though he could not quite believe what was happening. The sense of power the thought gave her, the sheer unbelievable seduction of his hands on her body, roused a driving need.

His lips returned to hers with a passionate tenderness and urgency that inflamed her. He moved over her, throwing up her skirts, sliding a hand up her thigh, over the soft skin to find the hot, central core of her. Her body shivered like a plucked cord beneath his touch.

“Sebastian...”

She felt as though she were dissolving into some desperate pleasure, and when he moved down to meet her unspoken plea for release with the touch of his tongue against her most intimate place, the sensation was too hot and too sudden to resist. Her body was speared by so violent a delight that she rolled over, stifling a cry against his chest.

She could feel his arousal hard against her thigh but even as she reached blindly for him, intuitively knowing what was needed, he was withdrawing, wrapping his arms carefully about her. Although he held her close, she somehow knew he was putting distance between them. The pleasure and the astounding intimacy she felt turned cold and started to shrink.

“Clara...sweetheart...we must not...”

If Clara’s thoughts had been clear, she would have noticed the harsh undertone in his voice, realized he was still trembling as much she. Instead, she only knew that while her body still echoed with unfamiliar passion, Sebastian was trying to retreat, leaving her feelings too raw to bear.

“We must not? Sebastian, we already have!” Her voice cracked, and she felt him hesitate then draw her closer against him. The warmth of his arms should have been reassuring but it was not, for it already felt wrong. She had opened herself body and soul to this man, had allowed him the most shocking and unimaginable liberties. Now, in return, she had received nothing but humiliation.

She stifled a little sob and hid her face in her hands.

“Clara. Do not...”

Sebastian gently helped her to her feet as she pulled her disheveled dress tight around her. When he would have drawn her down to sit with him on the sofa she resisted, deliberately choosing a chair that her apart from him.

“I am sorry.” This time she realized that he sounded wretched. “I should not have done it.”

“You should not have done it?” Clara’s fingers scored the arms of the chair. “Do not take responsibility for something that I wanted as much as you! Indeed, if you had not stopped me...” Her voice trailed away as she realized she would have given herself to him totally, without reservation. But even then he had not been so emotionally engaged as she. He had known what he was doing. And he had stopped it. She bit her lip to stifle her anguish.

“I should never have sent for you yesterday,” she said tonelessly.

“ No.” His word was uncompromising. “And I should never have come to you.”

“It took me such a long time...” Clara gulped. “I thought I no longer had such strong feelings for you.”

He was shaking his head but said nothing. She felt desolate.

“What are we to do?” she said. She looked at him properly for the first time and her heart turned over at the misery and self-loathing in his eyes. “I know that you cannot offer me what I want, Sebastian.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. The pain was etched deep on his face. “Clara, to make you a promise and then break it would be intolerable.”

She knew what he meant. He did not wish to have the responsibility of loving her. He could not swear to be faithful to her for the rest his life. She remembered what she had thought the previous night: he could not love her as she wished to be loved, as she deserved to be loved.

“So what do we do?” She said again.

He did not pretend to misunderstand her.

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