After the Abduction (38 page)

“I do play a mean game of chess, don’t I, Lady Juliet?” he said with a grin. “Though you’re not so bad yourself. It’s just a pity that your defensive maneuvers are a little shaky.” He curled his toe into a certain spot, eliciting a gasp from her.

“Then perhaps I need…offensive maneuvers instead,” she choked out. She took another of his pawns with her knight, encroaching far into his territory. And while that distracted him, she sent her own stocking foot encroaching far into his other territory, right between his thighs. She began to poke her toe at the fullness in his breeches.

If her legs hadn’t been so much shorter than his, he’d be doubled in pain by now, since she clearly wanted to do him an injury. But she couldn’t progress far enough forward to do more than stroke his already rigid John Thomas with the tip of her toe.

It made him insane. “I like your offensive maneuvers,” he growled and moved his bishop. Then before she could jerk her foot away, he thrust his hand under the table to capture it. He tugged just enough to make her slip down in her chair so that the sole of her foot could rest squarely on his swelling cock. “I like them a
lot,
” he added.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d intended, but by thunder, if it didn’t feel incredible. His own foot slipped from between her legs so he could widen his thighs and slump down in his chair to give her better access. God help them both if anybody noticed what was going on behind the low wall of the alcove.

She stared at him a long moment, as if debating what to do about her foot, when he held it captive against his John Thomas. Then a decidedly suspicious smile spread over her luscious lips. She moved one of her pawns above the table. And she moved her foot below the table, in a slow, sensual stroke up the bulge in his breeches.

He gaped at her. What was she up to now? Then her foot rubbed again, eliciting an involuntary moan from him that made her eyes glitter with clear mischief.

“Something wrong, Lord Templemore?” she said, loud enough to carry. “I take it that my chess-playing skills have you worried.”

He scarcely knew. He scarcely knew anything except that he wanted that cursed foot of hers to keep moving. And it did, achingly slow, sweeping up and down his erection with alarming expertise.

“It’s your move, you know,” she added with a sly look. “Or perhaps my offensive maneuvers have taken you by surprise.”

Damned right they had. He was supposed to be making
her
burn, not the reverse. He tried to concentrate on the chess game, but his mind couldn’t wrap itself around anything as complicated as chess strategy, not with her talented foot bringing him rapidly toward the point of no return.

He took her pawn with his knight…or at least he thought it was his knight. Rational thought was becoming impossible. Juliet moved out her queen. Under normal circumstances, that move would have set off alarm bells. Instead, a different set of bells went off when she began using her dainty heel to knead his ballocks.

God help him. His ability to breathe was now seriously in question, yet he couldn’t bring himself to move her foot away, not just yet. It felt so damned good. Whoever would have thought it?

“She’s trouncing you, eh, Templemore?” came a voice from the nearest table, making him wonder if his excitement showed in his face. It must—he could feel hot blood creeping into his cheeks.

“Trouncing him soundly,” Juliet put in, her smile now overly bright. “I’m afraid his lordship is no match for a wily woman.”

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered. Determinedly, he focused on the game. Seeing trouble impending in more ways than one, he moved his knight defensively, then grabbed her foot to stay it. Enough was enough. If she did any more, he’d erupt.

With an impish grin, she captured the adjacent pawn with her queen and wriggled her foot against him. Quickly, he shifted her foot onto his knee and manacled her ankle, but he should have put it on the other knee, for now her other foot came up to caress him.

He grabbed that one, too, and she giggled. “I think it’s your move, my lord,” she said blithely. “If you don’t make a move, we’ll be here all night.”

Deuced impudent woman. If he let go of her foot to move his piece, she’d return to stroking him. In his present state, it wouldn’t take much more for him to explode.

Too late, he remembered her delight in making him lose control that day in the cottage. Why, the little minx
wanted
him to explode, didn’t she? Here, with an avid audience…

By thunder, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Releasing her foot, he darted his hand above the table to move his knight out, but before he could return to restraining her foot, she grabbed his hand above the table.

“Are you sure you want to make that move, Lord Templemore?” she asked in a perfect image of innocence. “I’ll not hold you to it if you change your mind.”

“I’m sure,” he snapped and tried to tug his hand loose unobtrusively.

In the meantime, her foot stroked him with a frenzy. Wild images clouded his mind—of her naked and spread-eagled beneath him, with her hot little mouth uttering sweet cries of excitement and need and want…

Yanking free of her hand, he jerked back his chair, which scraped the floor loudly. Everyone turned to look at them as her feet dropped harmlessly down. He forced a smile for the other players’ benefits, and they returned to their play.

Devil take her, he was hard as stone. And though she’d brought him to the brink of embarrassing himself, she sat there looking as innocent as any wide-eyed miss.

But she wasn’t done yet. While he was still reining in his heated fantasies, she leaned forward, captured a pawn with her queen, and smiled in triumph. “Check and checkmate, my lord.”

Feeling like a trout clubbed by a fisherwoman, he stared down at the board to see her queen placed irrevocably in the winning position. She’d won. The blasted wench had actually beaten him!

Not that she’d played fair. But then, neither had he.

While he gaped at the board, she ducked under the table and found her slippers. When she popped up again, she said in a carrying voice, “Well, sir, I believe I shall go find another game. This one isn’t nearly challenging enough.”

He grimaced when the players at the nearest tables chuckled. Wonderful. It wasn’t enough for her to leave him aching with a desire he couldn’t possibly satisfy—she had to bludgeon his pride
and
his reputation while she was at it, the vengeful sprite.

Looking disgustingly pleased with herself, she rose and tried to hurry past him, but he caught her arm. “Surely you’re not so cruel as to leave me before I’ve had a chance for satisfaction.”

Though she still wore a smile, a sudden despair flickered behind her eyes. “I’ve given you too many chances already, my lord,” she said softly. “Eventually a woman has to cut her losses.” Then she wrenched free of him and strode off.

He would have gone after her at once, except that his breeches weren’t yet fit to be seen. So he sat there stewing, pretending to examine the chess game. Cut her losses? What the devil did that mean? She’d won the game, for God’s sake! She’d even won their more private skirmish.

Or had she? It suddenly occurred to him that her words held a certain finality. As if she’d grown tired of waiting for him to settle matters with his brother’s situation. As if she were giving up on him.

Panic spiraled in his belly. What if she’d truly had enough?

She certainly hadn’t made it easy for him to see her lately. In truth, she’d been ignoring him. But that didn’t mean she’d given up on him. Making him think she had might be just another of her little tricks.

Still, he’d expected her to give in long before now.

Ah, but the young, naive Juliet was gone forever, thanks to him. He’d been as guilty as her family of leaping to conclusions about her, assuming that she’d come around as she always had, forgive him as she always had. After setting the gossip to rest, he’d expected her to leap gratefully into his arms. And when she hadn’t, he’d thought physical pursuit might persuade her.

What a stupid ass he’d been! Juliet was a grown woman now, and when a grown woman of character set her principles, she didn’t change them on a whim.

Quickly, he rose from the chair and set off across the card room at a ground-eating stride. He had to find her; he had to settle this once and for all, before he lost her for good. He’d almost reached the door when he heard a sly voice murmur, “It seems the young lady isn’t that delighted by
your
offer of marriage either, Templemore. Every time I see her, she’s avoiding you.”

He paused to glare at Montfort. “At least she hasn’t turned me down.”

“Yet.”

Yet.
The short word had long repercussions, exploding in his brain like a badly designed pistol. He had no answer for Montfort, and no time to trade insults, either.

Turning on his heel, he went looking for her. But she wasn’t anywhere, not in the drawing room or supper room, not in any of the other public rooms. He planted himself outside the ladies’ retiring room, but a young lady who came out told him she wasn’t there either.

As he left the hall, he spotted Lady Rosalind coming toward him. She was alone, thank God, so he accosted her. “Have you seen your sister? We haven’t yet finished our discussion, and now she’s vanished.”

“As a matter of fact, I spoke with her not five minutes ago. She told me she was taking the carriage home and would send it back for Griff and me.”

“She’s leaving already?”

Lady Rosalind shrugged. “We do have a long trip ahead of us tomorrow, after all.”

Alarm splintered his composure. “What long trip?”

She looked surprised. “Didn’t she tell you? We received word this afternoon that my sister Helena has had her baby—a little boy. The three of us leave tomorrow for Swan Park, where Helena has been staying during her confinement.”

“Blast it all!”

“If you hurry, you might catch Juliet before she leaves the ball. It will take some time for the carriage to be brought.”

He started to race off without a word, then caught himself. “Thank you, madam.” Taking Lady Rosalind’s hand, he brushed a quick kiss to the back of it. “You’ve always been a friend to me. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.”

When he glanced up to see Knighton bearing down on them, he beat a hasty retreat. As he headed for the entrance hall, his heart began to pound. Juliet hadn’t even mentioned that they were leaving town. That didn’t bode well for him.

By thunder, what if he
had
pushed her too far at last? What if he’d lost her with his refusal to consider her earnest request? Or worse still, what if she turned to another man? By putting a stop to the gossip, Sebastian had certainly made it easy for her to find someone else.

In a flash, he saw her ten years from now—married to some respectable dolt like Havering, with a lot of little dolt Haverings running about. And he saw himself at Charnwood all alone, except for the occasional visit from his wild brother.

He might not even get that, at the rate Morgan was going. If he did manage to save Morgan’s hide this time, how long would it last? Until the next time the rascal took up with pirates? Or went spying for the Home Office or the navy?

In the meantime, Sebastian would be alone, always alone, remembering that he’d let the one woman he’d ever wanted walk away.

The thought made his throat close up. He couldn’t lose her—it was unthinkable!

He hastened his steps to the entrance hall and nearly collapsed with relief to see her still waiting there.

But she wasn’t alone. Havering was with her.

“Really, my lord,” she was telling the mooncalf in a polite, but firm tone, “I don’t need you to accompany me home. You only now arrived, and besides, it would be most improper. So if you’ll just leave me be, I will call for my brother-in-law’s carriage—”

“But there are footpads and nasty sorts about. You shouldn’t go alone. I’ll fetch my sister to go with us if that’ll make you feel better. She’s playing cards tonight, too.”

“Then I should hate to ruin her evening,” Juliet said sweetly.

“Oh, she won’t mind, I’m sure—” he began.

“Havering, what are you doing here?” Sebastian barked as he stepped forward. “I thought you were at the cockfight.”

“I was, but it was a dull ’un, not a’tall what you said it would be. So I came here and found Lady Juliet pleading a headache and heading off for home all by herself.”

“I’ll take care of accompanying Lady Juliet home.”

Juliet glared at him. “
Nobody
is accompanying me home.”

Turning to a footman, Sebastian ordered his own carriage brought round.

“Now see here,” Havering protested, “if anybody’s taking the lady home, it’s me.”

“As she said, that would be improper,” Sebastian growled.

“No more than for
you
to take her—” Havering began.

“Listen, Havering, you don’t want to provoke a man who handles pistols well, not with your checkered experience.”

Havering blinked at the sudden change of subject, then colored. “I…um…don’t know what you mean exactly.”

“I’d be happy to show you what I mean at dawn tomorrow if you’re so inclined.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Juliet retorted. “Really, gentlemen, this is too silly. I’m going home by myself in my family’s carriage—”

“You’re not…er…calling me out, are you, Templemore?” Havering asked, his brow a veritable field of furrows.

Sebastian almost wished he were. But bluffing Havering would be easy enough. “Not if you go into the card room like a nice gentleman and find some other young lady to impress with your gallant nature.”

Havering looked torn. Then apparently deciding he wasn’t quite ready for pistols at dawn, he mumbled something about looking for his sister and slunk away.

Juliet stared coolly at Sebastian. “Although I thank you for ridding me of him, I’d thank you even more for ridding me of yourself. Go away, and leave me alone.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“Very well.” She tugged at her gloves with the nonchalance of a woman who thinks she holds all the cards. “Perhaps if you come round in the morning—”