Excerpt:
Sebastian returned his hand to her neck.
He stroked her creamy flesh as he lessened the kiss. By the time their
mouths separated, both were gasping for air, breathless from their shared
passion.
He held her on his lap, stroking her neck, for an
inexhaustible amount of time, listening to the last few droplets of rain now
falling from the canopy of leaves above them.
Gwen rested her head on his shoulder. Her previous
courage to explore Sebastian’s mouth abated as anxiety and guilt over her
lack of self-restraint seeped in.
She was fearful of what he must think of her. Ladies
didn’t behave in such a manner, especially ladies betrothed to other men!
"Why were you riding by yourself?" Sebastian asked,
his voice interrupting her silent flogging.
She turned to face him, certain her heated cheeks were
a brilliant shade of pink. "I needed time away from my father and, since
Tristan has gone to London, I went riding alone."
"Sounds very innocent," Sebastian gave her a slight
smile before his sarcasm set in. "You did, however, almost kill yourself
maneuvering that hill."
It was time to admit the truth.
She averted her gaze but only briefly. Her pride
dictated she face him. "My father has arranged my betrothal and I have been
unable to dissuade him.
Being cooped up in our manor, listening to his blind
devotion to Keir, the man he insists I marry … I felt like I was going
insane. I thought the only thing I could control was my horse and you
witnessed how I mucked that up."
"Let me see if I understand this." Sebastian caressed
her shoulder as he spoke. "Your father wants you to wed a man named Keir?"
Gwen nodded in agreement.
"What’s his last name, dare I ask?"
"Dunlop."
Sebastian feigned indignation. "Why would your father
ever want you to marry a man with such a ridiculous name?"
"It’s a Scottish name." Gwen retorted.
"That explains it," he smirked. "Why does your father
want you to marry him?
And why is it that you don’t wish to marry him? All
qualms about his name aside."
He’s not you. She bit the inside of her lip to avoid
speaking the words.
"He’s a long time friend of my father’s and papa loves
Keir like a son. I suppose that’s why he thinks it to be a splendid match.
That and the fact that Keir is Scottish. My father is loyal to his ancestry.
Did I mention Keir is an Earl? I suppose that could also be a reason."
Sebastian’s brow creased. "Why the hurry to see you
wed?"
"Papa’s health has been deteriorating. It’s his wish
to see me wed before his passing."
"It is a fine mess you have made for yourself, Miss.
MacAlistair,"
Sebastian’s voice was calm, his gaze steady. "A
Scottish Earl fiancé and you sitting on an English Duke’s lap."
The heat in her cheeks intensified, spreading to her
ears.
"Perhaps," he added in a low, husky voice, "here is
where you ought to be."
 |