‘I have a slight headache, that is all,’ she assured her cousin ruefully. ‘But I am perfectly capable of taking down my own hair. It would please me if you would go back upstairs and rest your ankle.’ She smiled encouragingly, knowing that she wished only to be alone to lick the wounds to her pride.
She maintained that smile until Helena turned and left the bedchamber, only relaxing into dejection once she knew herself to be completely alone.
What Juliet would have really liked to do was go out onto her balcony and breathe in some of the warm summer air. But she was loath to do so after the last time she had done just that. It would be too humiliating if by chance Sebastian happened to find her there once again. If he were to assume that she was deliberately trying to attract his attention.
Not that it was particularly likely; if Sebastian had already retired to any bedchamber then it was probably Lady Butler’s!
Sebastian was sprawled atop the bedcovers in a state of disarray, drinking brandy copiously, when he heard the first scream.
It had not been easy to turn down Lady Butler’s obvious invitation to retire with her to her bedchamber, without causing offence, but somehow Sebastian had managed it. As he had also managed to procure a decanter of brandy and a glass from a footman, before mounting the staircase two steps at a time and then striding to his bedchamber to close the door firmly behind him.
Watching Gray’s solicitations to Juliet Boyd for two hours had induced a need in Sebastian not to see or speak to anyone else this evening. He had thrown open the doors out onto his balcony before undressing down to his pantaloons, his intention to lie down upon his bed and get roaring drunk before hopefully falling into an unconscious stupor.
The fear and desperation he heard in Juliet’s scream wiped all thought of sleep from Sebastian’s mind, and he slammed his glass down on the bedside table before jumping to his bare feet.
It did not even occur to him to use the door out into the hallway. He rushed out onto his balcony to vault over the top of the ridiculous barrier before throwing open the door to Juliet’s room, fearful of what or who he might find there.
The bedchamber was lit by a single candle placed on the dressing table, its reflection in the mirror behind adding more light to the room.
The bedchamber showed only one occupant.
Juliet.
She lay alone in the centre of the bed, her fingers tightly clutching the bedclothes to her chest as she tossed and turned her head on the pillow.
Her eyes were firmly closed.
Sebastian stood very still beside the bed as he looked down at her. That Juliet was still sleeping, probably completely unaware that she had cried out, was obvious.
Her hair was a midnight curtain on the pillow beneath her. Her shoulders were bare, except for the thin straps of a white silk nightgown, and the revealed swell of her breasts was full and creamy.
Sebastian felt the fierceness of his expression soften as he took in how beautiful she looked. How fragile. How utterly—
‘No!’ Juliet suddenly cried out again, her eyes still closed but her features contorted. ‘Do not! Please do not!’ She sat up abruptly in the bed, her eyes wide and fearful as she stared straight ahead. ‘Please!’ she groaned achingly once again, before burying her face in her hands and beginning to sob.
Her distress was unbearable. Certainly more than Sebastian could bear anyway!
He quickly sat down on the side of the bed to reach out and draw her into his arms. ‘You are safe, Juliet,’ he assured her fiercely. ‘There is no one here who shall harm you.’ His arms tightened about her and he held her cradled against his chest.
Juliet froze as she became aware of bare flesh beneath her cheek.
Arms like steel bands were about her, holding her so tightly she could not break free.
Crestwood!
He was here. In her bedchamber. And if he was here it could mean only one thing!
She could not bear it. Not again. Never again could she lie unmoving, silent, while he—
No, Crestwood was not here!
He could not be here.
Crestwood was dead ….
Then who was holding her so tightly?
The skin Juliet felt beneath her breast was smooth and deeply muscled, rather than pale and lined, with no sign of that flabbiness of flesh she had become used to in a man thirty years her senior, and the softness of hair that covered this chest and stomach was dark rather than coarsely grey.
Juliet raised her gaze almost fearfully to the firmness of jaw, and above chiselled lips, a long aquiline nose, high cheekbones, eyes the colour of honey, and dark hair shot through with gold in rumpled disarray onto the broadness of those wide shoulders.
‘Lord St Claire!’ she gasped in recognition, even as she attempted to pull away from him. His arms tightened to prevent her. ‘You must release me, My Lord!’ She breathed unevenly.
‘Why must I?’ His voice sounded dark and mesmerising in the silence of the bedchamber.
‘Because—because—you should not be here, Sebastian,’ Juliet whispered shakily. ‘Why did you come?’ She pulled back slightly to look into the brooding darkness of his face.
Such a handsome face. So sinfully, magnificently handsome …
Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat as he looked into the deep green of Juliet’s eyes. ‘You do not remember, do you?’
Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘Remember what, My Lord?’
‘You called me Sebastian just now,’ he reminded her huskily. ‘And I am here because you cried out loudly in your sleep and I heard you.’ His eyes narrowed as he saw the sudden wariness in her expression before her gaze dropped away from his. ‘Who did this to you, Juliet? Who has hurt you enough that you are plagued by nightmares that make you cry out even in sleep?’
Her face had been pale before, but now it grew even paler. ‘I do not know what you mean, My Lord—’
‘Do not lie to me, Juliet,’ he warned harshly, his hands grasping the tops of her arms as she would have pulled away from him. ‘Did Crestwood do this to you? Did he frighten you in some way? Is that why you—?’ He broke off, his jaw tight.
She raised startled eyes. ‘Why I what, Sebastian?’
She was so beautiful, so utterly desirable as Sebastian held her soft lushness in his arms, that he did not want to think of anything else—to see or feel anything but Juliet. At this moment she was all that mattered.
Juliet knew Sebastian was going to kiss her the moment she saw the hunger in his gaze as it dropped to the softness of her lips. Knew it. And craved it …
She had no memory of calling out in her sleep or of what she had said. But she could imagine what it might have been. She had been dreaming of Crestwood. Of how so often he had hurt her. How there had never been anyone there, ever, to stop him from hurting her.
Not so tonight. Tonight Sebastian St Claire was here. In her bedchamber. Not Lady Butler’s, as Juliet had imagined. And Juliet wanted him to hold her. To kiss her. To caress her. To block out and destroy for ever all those painful memories of Crestwood that so tormented and disturbed her.
‘Juliet …?’ St Claire groaned as she raised her lips willingly to his.
Such a strong and sensuous mouth as it claimed hers. His shoulders were hard and muscled beneath Juliet’s fingers as she clung to him. He felt so firm and smooth, and the muscles rippled beneath the warmth of his skin. Those muscles told her that no one would get past him,