Page 32 of Taming Ivy
“Good evening, Countess.”
Before she could jerk the scattered pieces of herself back together, before the delicious spasms within the deepest part of her had even subsided, Ravenswood departed in a swirl of black, the front door clicking with subtle finality.
Ivy slumped against the wall, fingers drifted up to her bruised lips. A sob escaped as she traced their tenderness.
Dear God. She would deny him nothing.
CHAPTER 8
The night he left Ivy standing in her foyer, soft and boneless from a rocketing climax, his neck warm from her breath, his fingers warmer still from her heat, Sebastian knew what he must do.
Distance. He needed to distance himself. At least temporarily. The taste of her mouth, the feel of Ivy in his arms, none of it was conducive to his plans of ruining her. Somehow, during their time together, during waltzes and suppers, and afternoon teas, he began regarding her in a different fashion. Not as prey, but as an incredibly desirable young woman he was developing an increasing fascination for.
The roads to Kent were in good condition and bore no reason for his delay this afternoon. Three broken harness straps on his matched gray geldings.Three. It was foolish to ignore his coachman earlier when the man protested pushing the beasts to greater speeds. Once the leather snapped, forcing them to limp to a nearby inn, the older man looked at Sebastian and simply shook his head in exasperation, as if to say, ‘I told you so.'
Sebastian did not elaborate on the reason for the breakneck speed he demanded. Instead, he barked orders to repair the damn harness quickly so they could continue on to Bentley Park.
Two weeks had passed since seeing Ivy, and his hunger was sharp. Time could not dull the memory of her smile, or the sparkle of her eyes when amused. Distance did not explain his inability to concentrate on estate matters. Or why the purchase of five racehorses paled in comparison to her lips and their sweet taste of oranges and honey. Even when he worked to the point of exhaustion, images of her silky flesh filling his hands crept into his dreams every night, denying him the black oblivion of sleep. His thoughts overflowed with her and Sebastian hated that fact almost as much as he knew he should hate her.
“Remember Timothy.”The mantra was often repeated. Revenge was a messy, ugly business. Glowing eyes and sweet, sweet lips should not sway him.
Two hours idle waiting on repairs ought to have provided additional time to steel his resolve. It only allowed his emotions to simmer. Reaching Bentley Park, Sebastian’s temper seethed just below a deceptively calm surface.
It mounted by degrees when Ivy was unseen among the sixty guests gathered at the estate. Hot, dusty, impatient, Sebastian straddled a razor’s edge to see her. The irritation experienced when she was not immediately available to soothe his senses was vastly disturbing.
Inquiries revealed her location on the west lawn where several guests gathered to try their hands at archery. Sebastian nearly sprinted down the oak-shaded lane toward the range until, with a muttered curse, he forced himself to a more dignified stroll.
Gathered in the slope of a small valley, a group of brightly dressed gentlemen and ladies mingled. Ivy and Sara stood at a marked chalk line, holding bows notched with arrows. A young man, slightly pudgy and earnest of face, hovered at Ivy’s side. She listened intently to him, brow furrowed in concentration.
Alan, watching the girls with a slight frown marring his brow, caught sight of Sebastian. Waving a hand in greeting, he excused himself from a cluster of men observing the proceedings with unusual interest.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder at Sebastian’s approach, but there was no smile of welcome. The line of her mouth tightened, her attention flicking back to Lord Kessler as he repositioned her fingers upon the string.
There was no ignoring the twist of excitement in his stomach, even with her obvious dismissal. It was damned difficult to tear his eyes away from her. Why did he stay away for so long? Whatever the reason, it was a mistake.
“Glad you could make it, Seb.” The two men shared a brotherly embrace. “I was beginning to think we might not see you at all.”
“Broke three harness straps. I stopped at the Red Lion for repairs.”
“Racing the Devil himself…that’s not like you,” Alan said before adding with a faint scowl, “now that you’ve arrived, you can assist in an important matter. I’ve not had a blasted moment alone with Lady Sara since her arrival yesterday.”
“You require my help in this, of all things?” Sebastian’s brow lifted. “You’re lord and master here. Arrange a rendezvous in the library or a drawing room. You’ve never had difficulties before coercing women into darkened corners.”
Alan’s gaze fixed on Sara while they strolled some distance away to discuss matters in a more practical manner. “Her oldest cousin accompanied the girls to act as chaperone. But where Lady Burkestone proves lax in her duties, Lady Ivy takes up the reins. And there’s a damn maid capable of snapping out of a dead sleep the instant I come within twenty steps. Between them all, there’s not been a single opportunity to make so much as an inappropriate suggestion. You will be a welcome distraction, for one of them at least.”
“I’m of no help with a bothersome maid.” Sebastian’s eyes snapped to Ivy when she laughed at something Kessler said. “And I cannot promise a miracle with Ivy.”
Alan shot him a questioning look. “She’s not once mentioned your name. Where the hell have you been? I heard you went to Scotland.”
“After four years abroad, my attention was required at my estates. And yes, I was in Scotland. Those racers I purchased were at Hawick and I went to retrieve them.” Sebastian nearly growled his response.
Bentley snorted in disbelief. “I’m glad you could forgo your responsibilities. For this weekend, at least.” Nodding toward Ivy and Kessler, he said, “She’s charmed everyone. Away from the Pack, out of London, and she’s a different person. Relaxed, and with a devilishly engaging sense of humor. Half the men here are mad for her. I don’t believe her fortune even factors into their affections, and there’s been no mention of that rather scandalous wager. Do you find that odd?”
“I don’t care if they are all hopelessly in love with her,” Sebastian’s expression was sullen. What had he lost during his absence? “I am pursuing her.”
The two girls both readied their aim and let loose the arrows. Sara’s landed close to the bullseye while Ivy’s arrow hit the outside rings. Several guests clapped. Kessler gave a hoot of admiration for Sara’s aim. In quick fashion, they notched a second round of arrows, and again, the young lord stepped behind Ivy, this time fitting his body to hers. Guiding the bow to a better position, he gripped her elbow, situating it slightly higher. When she drew back on the weapon, her wrist located next to her ear, Kessler’s mouth hovered there as he imparted advice.
When his hand drifted to casually rest on the swell of Ivy’s hip, holding her flush alongside him, fingers flexing tight enough to leave indentations on her silk skirt, Sebastian’s shaky temper reached a flashpoint.
