‘I assure you at this moment you do not possess either wit or charm!’
Sebastian grinned unabashedly at her vehemence. ‘Implying that I might when I am not foxed …?’
‘Implying that—’ Juliet broke off to eye him in utter frustration. ‘I really think it advisable if you retire to your room now, My Lord—before you do or say something you might later regret.’
‘And what might that be?’ He raised dark brows. ‘Kissing your hand, perhaps?’ He raised her gloved fingers towards his lips, but instead of the courtly kiss she was expecting, at the last moment Sebastian turned her hand and kissed the delicacy of her wrist, his fingers tightening about hers as she gasped and tried to pull sharply away. ‘No, I feel no regret,’ he murmured, after considering for a moment. ‘Perhaps if I were to take you fully into my arms and—’
‘I have reconsidered, Lord St Claire,’ she cut him off in alarm. ‘If you wish it I will see that you are safely delivered to the privacy of your bedchamber!’
He gave a seductive smile. ‘Oh, I most certainly wish it, my dear Juliet.’
‘Just remain here—endeavour to try not to get into any more mischief while I am gone!—and I will make your excuses to Lord and Lady Bancroft.’
‘And your own, dear Juliet,’ Sebastian advised softly.
Her mouth tightened. ‘I will be but a few minutes.’
Could it really be so easy? Sebastian wondered, watching as Juliet gracefully crossed the room to talk quietly with their host and hostess. Of course she did believe him to be more than slightly the worse for drink, and so perhaps incapable of attempting her seduction once they were alone … A completely erroneous assumption—as the rapid hardening of Sebastian’s thighs just at the thought of making love to Juliet testified only too well!
Not that he would seduce her before he had apologised for his behaviour this morning, of course. One should not even attempt to make love to a woman who was as displeased as Juliet still appeared to be.
Sebastian’s gaze narrowed with displeasure as he watched his host stroll the length of the room to his side, whilst Juliet remained in conversation with Dolly Bancroft.
The Earl raised mocking brows. ‘Lady Boyd seems to feel you may be indisposed, St Claire?’
‘Lady Boyd is—’ He broke off, his mouth tightening in frustration at the neat way Juliet had outmanoeuvred him.
‘A very beautiful but equally mysterious young lady,’ Lord Bancroft finished for him, not even attempting to hide his amusement at the other man’s predicament.
Sebastian’s gaze focused on his host. ‘Mysterious …?’
The older man gave him an enigmatic smile. ‘There are certain inconsistencies to the Countess that I find … questionable, shall we say?’
Sebastian’s unhappiness with this conversation increased. ‘Is it not impolite of you to discuss one of your guests in this way?’
‘Do not attempt to tell me how to behave in my own home, St Claire!’ The usual good humour had left Lord Bancroft’s eyes, and his gaze had become steely. ‘Considering your own continued interest in the Countess, you and I perhaps need to talk further,’ he stated. ‘Would ten o’clock in my study tomorrow morning suit you?’
Sebastian looked irritated. ‘What is this all about, Bancroft?’
‘Not here, St Claire.’ The cordial smile returned to his host’s lips, and the tension left his shoulders as he once again looked his usual amiable self. ‘Dolly is about to propose a game of charades. I suggest you join us,’ Lord Bancroft said lightly, before leaving to return to his wife’s side.
Sebastian, as any man who valued his reputation as a gentleman of fashion, would as soon take a walk to the gallows as engage in a game of charades. Besides, he was too disturbed by Bancroft’s strange behaviour just now to concentrate on such inanity.
Juliet, Sebastian noted, also remained as a spectator to the game rather than a participant. She had moved to stand near one of the sets of French doors that had been opened out onto the terrace to allow the warm evening air into the drawing room, completely ignoring Sebastian’s existence as she gave every appearance of enjoying the fun as their fellow guests made complete cakes of themselves.
So intent was Juliet’s attention on the party game that she did not even notice when Sebastian slipped out of the matching set of doors further down the drawing room and made his way silently across the terrace to where Juliet stood, chuckling at Gray’s antics as she leant against one of the velvet drapes.
Totally oblivious of Sebastian standing directly behind her ….
This second evening at Banford Park had definitely been easier to bear than the first, Juliet decided. She was enjoying watching the game of charades—not taking part, but certainly not feeling excluded, either.
Because, as Lord Grayson claimed, St Claire had set the example he wished his peers to follow by making her socially acceptable once more?
Grateful as she was for a slight melting of the frost that had previously been shown to her, it was not quite within Juliet to allow that the outrageous Lord St Claire and his marked attentions towards her were indeed responsible for that change. Even if they were, he need not have been so persistent in his interest—especially as she had given him every indication that she wished him to cease all such attentions. Besides, there had been no one else but themselves present when he’d intruded onto her balcony yesterday evening. Or when he’d invaded the privacy of her bedchamber this morning.
Juliet became very still as she felt something touch the exposed nape of her neck. A fly, perhaps? Or possibly a bee …
‘Do not turn around, Juliet,’ Sebastian St Claire urged huskily, just as she would have done so.
Juliet stiffened. St Claire was standing directly behind her, in the shadow of the curtained doorway. Juliet’s wide-eyed glance about the room showed that none of the other guests seemed in the least aware of his presence.
He was standing so close to her that Juliet could feel the heat of his body through the thin material of her gown. As she had yesterday evening, Juliet also smelled the sharp tang of male cologne and the cigar he must have smoked earlier with his port.
The fact that he was standing so close to her implied that the feather-light touch she had felt against her nape had very likely been St Claire’s fingertips against her bare flesh …!
She flicked her fan open, bringing it up in front of her mouth so that their conversation would not be visible to the other guests. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ she whispered fiercely.
‘Something I have been longing to do since Dolly interrupted us yesterday evening,’ came St Claire’s unapologetic reply. ‘Did you know that your skin is as soft as velvet?’ Once again those fingertips caressed the length of her nape.
Juliet was instantly aware of that quivering sensation once more as those fingers ran the length of her spine. Just as she had the previous evening, Juliet wondered whether it could be pleasure she was feeling. Certainly no one else had ever made her feel such a warmth and tingling in her body before. It was not an unpleasant feeling, and nor was she repulsed as she had always been whenever Edward had touched her.
On the contrary, that warm and tingling sensation was now spreading across her shoulders and down into her breasts …
‘Has anyone ever likened your hair to the colour and texture of sable?’ he murmured, and she couldn’t suppress a tiny shiver as the warmth of his breath moved the curls at her nape.
It was strangely disturbing to have him standing behind her like this and for no one else in the drawing room to be aware of it. Again, this was not an