Page 25 of Scandalous Desires on a Summer Morning
Sebastian looked up, and her composure nearly fled.
He was devastatingly handsome in the morning light—his dark hair a little disheveled, his cravat loosened at the throat, his white shirt rolled to reveal strong, sun-browned forearms. There was a smudge of graphite near his wrist, and his expression held that intense concentration that made her pulse skip. If the devil himself had conspired to test her self-control, he could not have arranged a crueler sight.
“Ah, Miss Winton,” Sebastian said, his tone measured, polite, yet his brilliant green eyes gleamed with something devilish. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, my lord,” she replied, her voice an octave too high.
The fair-haired gentleman turned, his pleasant face breaking into a courteous smile. His eyes were the clear grey of a winter sky, and though he lacked Sebastian’s dark magnetism, he was handsome in a gentler way.
“Miss Winton,” Sebastian said, gesturing toward him, “allow me to introduce Mr. Walker. He is the architect overseeing the restoration of the conservatory.”
Mr. Walker gave a graceful bow. “A pleasure, Miss Winton.”
She curtsied. “Likewise, sir. Forgive me for interrupting your work.”
“I was just showing Lord Ranford the final plans,” Mr. Walker said, gathering the sketches. “We’ve made some progress on the glasswork design.”
“I look forward to seeing it,” she said automatically, though she had no idea what she was saying.
Sebastian’s gaze flickered to her, unreadable, and her palms dampened in her gloves.
“If you will excuse us, Mr. Walker,” she said quickly, “I—ah—wished to speak privately with his lordship.”
“Of course.” The architect collected his drawings, bowed again, and exited the room, leaving behind the faint scent of parchment and ink.
The door closed. Silence fell. Maryann clasped her hands tightly before her. The sight of Sebastian leaning lazily against the edge of the desk did nothing to help her composure. His cravat hung undone, his dark hair a little mussed. The faintest shadow of a smile curved his mouth, as if he knewexactlyhow flustered she was.
She took a deep breath and blurted, “I am so terribly sorry, my lord, for taking advantage of you.”
He blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Advantage?”
“Yes!” She took a few steps closer, mortified by the heat in her cheeks. “It was dreadful behavior on my part, and I cannot think what possessed me. I was… I was a libertine!”
Sebastian straightened, his mouth twitching. “Alibertine?”
“Yes,” she repeated, gesturing helplessly. “To have acted like a scoundrel is beyond the pale. I assure you it willnothappen again.”
He regarded her for a long moment, the corners of his mouth curving upward in the slowest, most dangerous smile she had ever seen.
“I see,” he murmured. “You believeyoutook advantage ofme.”
Her pulse fluttered wildly. “I fail to see the humor in this, my lord. This is a matter that demands your seriousness.”
“I’m attempting to,” he said dryly, “but you are making it rather difficult.”
She glared at him, which only seemed to deepen his amusement. “I meant what I said. I am sorry, my lord.”
He tilted his head, his gaze dark and steady. “If you must know, Miss Winton, I am rather grateful for the experience.”
Maryann’s breath caught. “Grateful?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “It is not every evening a man finds himself kissed senseless under the moonlight by a beautiful woman.”
Her mouth fell open. “You are teasing me!”
“Would you prefer I feigned regret?”
“Yes,” she said indignantly. “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
