Page 44 of Taming Ivy
Sebastian scowled at the unanticipated obstacle to his intentions. Ivy’s shoulders lifted in a weak apology when his glare shifted to her.
“She is right, you know. You are half-dressed,” Ivy’s reply was a fragile rebuke. “And frightful.”
Thank God for Molly. Her bristling, crimson-faced presence served as the sole deterrent to an otherwise incredibly foolhardy and irreversible decision. Pulling her robe closer, Ivy waited to see what Sebastian would do.
He did not expect this. Did not expect a damn maid to be guarding the sanctuary of Ivy's bedchamber like a demon of the underworld. No, he imagined sweet-talking his way in, overcoming objections with kisses. He envisioned caresses and whispers of everything he would do to her until the countess surrendered with a willing sigh.
A thorn bit into his thumb. He gripped the rose so violently, its stem was crushed. A vision of slowly tracing that rose down Ivy’s lovely and very naked body, from forehead to the tips of her toes, plagued him from the moment he pulled it from a floral arrangement in the upper hall. He possessed every intention of kissing the path forged by the softness of those petals.
The vivid schemes his brain created drove him to distraction. The sweetness of the interlude beneath the elm trees only inflamed his appetite and damn it to hell, he tired of playing these games. He was half-mad with need. Need he hardly understood.
He wanted her. Tonight. He would have her. Tonight.
“Dismiss her.” His command was a growl, frustration and alcohol blending into a dangerous combination. How loud would Molly scream if he shouldered his way into the room? Would anyone investigate if the redheaded fiend landed on her arse in the hall? “Dismiss her now.”
Ivy took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “I will not do that, Sebastian. You know I cannot let you in.”
Was that a glint of triumph in those lovely turquoise eyes? Or panic? Everything was upside down. Sebastian was not sure of anything anymore.Damn you!Do you enjoy seeing me groveling at your door? Dancing to the merry tune you play?His hands clenched and for an instant, lunacy threatened to overtake him.
Reason tried desperately to gain his attention. Once again sharp thorns bit into his palm.
“Ivy, so help me, I willbreak this door down. Let me in….”
Once he disposed of Molly, he would lock the damn door. He’d have Ivy all to himself. Even if the maid shouted her head off in the hallway, he could slake his thirst before anyone stopped him. And should Ivy scream, well, there were ways to prevent that. His kisses would easily transform her screams to moans and pleas for more…
He was stunned when Ivy pushed Molly out of the way. Standing in the narrow opening, her hands gripping the edge of the door, Ivy was within his grasp if he only reached out to seize her. The odd sorrow flaring in her gaze immobilized him. Suddenly reconciling his overwhelming desire with the cold, hard plans for revenge was impossible.
Against all reasoning, scheming and design, he simply wished to hold her, his arms wrapped tight about her. He wanted to wake the next morning, warm and sleepy, with his butterfly countess smiling into his eyes. Her fragrance swirled about him, mingling with the aroma of the rose to tickle his nose. Like powerful witchcraft it sapped his strength. Leaving him vulnerable to whatevershedesired.
“I beg of you, Sebastian, do not do this. Not tonight, when the two people we hold most dear have declared their love for one another. Do not ruin the perfection oftheirmoment. Please say goodnight to me.” Rising on tiptoes, she kissed him softly on the mouth. “Please.”
Sebastian shuddered. Violent need and the want for something morecoursed through him.
He wanted to snatch her to him. He wanted to carry her off to his quarters as though he were a bloody pirate flush with hard-won treasure, or a Viking warrior enjoying the spoils of war. She was so damned beautiful and glowing and that braid her unruly hair was twisted into practically screamed for his hands to untangle it, to spread across the pillows in all its glory. He wanted to kiss every golden freckle scattered across that pert nose of hers. He wanted to explore the softness of the flesh behind her knees, the thinness of the skin covering the veins of her wrists. Everything that made her Ivy, he wanted to discover. He wanted to learn all her secrets and make her his forever.
“I want you,” he breathed, dizzy with all his wants. “And I will have you...”
She smiled, nodding in understanding. Soft, sad, sympathetic. “Yes. But not this night.”
While he stood there, thinking of all the things hewantedto do, she gently closed the door, her eyes holding his until the golden light from her room disappeared. Before Sebastian knew what happened, he was alone in the shadowy corridor.
Ivy had tamed him, for the moment. A tangled confusion replaced the coldness in his heart, ripping fissures into his cruel resolve. The rose gripped tight between his fingers bore smears of blood across almost every petal.Hisblood, much darker than the blossom’s hue. With deliberate savagery, he crushed the flower until petals rained to the floor, a scattering of scarlet reminders the countess won this skirmish.
“Please,”she had said even while turning him away.
Much later, the memory of her lips brushing his was a burning reminder of his own dark desires as he tossed and turned in his solitary bed. Sleep finally came close to dawn and dreams mocked his failure to take what he wanted. Dreams where Ivy writhed as he brought her to climax after climax. She wrapped about him, whispering her need and in his damned dreams, Sebastian willingly did everything she asked and more.
“Please,”Ivy said. In the darkest corners of Sebastian’s imagination she opened her arms, begging him to claim her.To love her…
It burned like the coals of hell to admit she possessed a piece of him.
CHAPTER 11
Gossip regarding a peculiar incident outside Lady Kinley’s bedroom door on the last night of the Earl of Bentley’s country party circulated for days. Following an apparent misunderstanding, the Earl of Ravenswood, half-undressed and magnificently foxed, located his own bedchamber. It was then, the unnamed source gleefully reported, the earl slammed the door shut in a fit of such bruising ferocity, every portal in that wing of the house shook.
Naturally, once details emerged of Sebastian’s attentive nature during that weekend, it was assumed he committed himself to an exclusive pursuit of the countess. But, many whispered, something was not quite right.
Upon return to the city they attended one ball and a play together, the atmosphere between them best described as cold and strained. Indeed, Sebastian declined to dance with the countess at the ball. To Ivy’s surprise, he did not even kiss her hand at the end of those two evenings. He deposited her on Kinley House’s doorstep as though eager to be rid of her.
