Chapter 17
Red lay within the loose cage of Sebastian’s arms, utterly spent, her body softened in the aftermath of what they had shared.
Sebastian did not move. For a long moment, he simply watched her.
She had been a virgin, and the truth of it struck him with a carnal, visceral force.
Untouched and innocent in a way that seemed impossible within Aphrodite’s walls, Red had nevertheless come to him with a boldness that belonged wholly to her.
His jaw tightened. It should have altered nothing, and yet it had.
Had he known Red was untouched, he might have resisted her.
Yet he admired a woman who knew her own desires and took command of them, and she had most certainly done that.
Carefully, he gathered her closer, adjusting her against him as though some instinct demanded he shield her from the chill of the night air.
Red did not stir, her breath slow and even, her features softened into a peace he suspected she rarely allowed herself.
Sebastian went utterly still as the realization took hold that he had taken her without the customary sheepskin over his cock and, worse still, had spent himself within her, a carelessness he had never permitted with any lover.
Sebastian’s heart began to pound, sudden and insistent. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.
He could have got her with child. The thought settled heavily, weighted with consequence. How the devil had he allowed himself to become so lost in her taste, softness, and scent that every shred of restraint had abandoned him?
A child.
Bloody hell.
His heart gave another hard thump, and he suppressed the tangle of emotions that rose within him.
There was little sense in tormenting himself over a consequence that might never come to pass.
He would wait. If their encounter had indeed resulted in a child, he would face the matter then and decide what must be done.
Sebastian rose at last, lifting her into his arms. There was a discreet path he knew well, one that avoided the more crowded corridors and prying eyes.
He took it without hesitation, his stride measured, his hold steady, as he carried her back into the Aphrodite and up the private staircase that led to his rooms on the third floor.
A fire already burned low within the grate, casting a low, amber glow across the chamber. He crossed to the chaise and lowered her upon it with care. For a moment, he remained standing over her before a slight disarray in her appearance caught his attention.
His gaze narrowed upon her loosened hair, the dark red strands no longer sitting as they had before. He reached out almost without thought, then stilled when the displaced edge revealed what he should have realized at once. It was a wig.
Of course she wore a wig.
A woman who guarded herself so carefully would not reveal her true appearance so easily. His gaze drifted to the mask that still concealed her face. He could remove it, strip away the artifice, and see her as she truly was. The temptation to know her surged, sharp and immediate.
More than that, a different thought followed, quieter, yet no less potent.
He could offer to keep her, install her somewhere discreet, provide for her comfort, and ensure she wanted for nothing, if that was what she chose.
He had never found such pleasure with a woman before, never encountered this unsettling combination of innocence and boldness, of hesitation and hunger.
The notion of relinquishing her so soon sat ill with him.
Sebastian lifted his hand, drawn by an impulse he did not fully understand, and let it hover near the mask before recalling her refusal to reveal herself. He withdrew, the memory of the boundary she had set restraining him more effectively than any sense of propriety ever could.
She had denied him even the sound of her natural voice and drawn her boundaries with a certainty he had not challenged.
If she wished him to know her, Red would tell him in her own time.
With a faint exhale, Sebastian stepped back, watching the firelight tracing the curve of her cheek, the quiet rise and fall of her breath.
Whatever this was, it had already become far more complicated than he intended, yet one truth remained: He was not yet prepared to let her go.
Though he had taken lovers over the years, he had never installed a mistress in a separate establishment for his exclusive attention.
The notion had never appealed to him—until now.
He would offer Red his protection and a private establishment, then leave the choice wholly to her.
First, however, they would speak plainly of the risk his carelessness had created.
Sebastian did not linger. After drawing a warm coverlet over her, he left her where she lay and made his way down the private staircase and along the dimly lit corridor that led to Rebecca’s rooms. The pleasure palace seemed different now, less a place of indulgence, as though something within it had subtly altered.
Or perhaps something within him had. Sebastian could not have said precisely what, and he was not inclined to examine the feeling too closely.
Rebecca was seated within her private salon when he entered, a ledger open upon her lap. She did not look up at once, though the faint curve of her lips suggested she was well aware of who had come to call. At last, she lifted her gaze, one brow arching with deliberate elegance.
“Whichever lady has put that remarkably satisfied expression upon your face,” she said, amusement threading through her voice, “has done an admirable job. I have not seen you look so at ease in nearly six months. I had begun to fear I might soon lose you as a patron.” Her smile deepened. “I must consider granting her a bonus.”
A wry smile touched his mouth. “Red.”
Rebecca stilled, if only for a moment, before her expression shifted into something more thoughtful.
“I suspected as much,” she murmured, closing the ledger.
“There is something about her that does not align with the circumstances that brought her to our doorstep. I believe she is a lady of quality, or at the very least attached to the household of one. That she should need employment strikes me as odd, though perhaps I am mistaken. I cannot pretend to understand what compelled her to seek this particular work. But of one thing I am certain: she is neither hardened nor experienced.”
Sebastian regarded her, unsurprised.
“You would do well to take care,” Rebecca continued, her gaze sharpening. “She is not a woman you may treat as a passing amusement, however willingly she stepped into this place.”
He considered those words more than he might have expected. His mind drifted, unbidden, to the chamber above—to the woman who lay sleeping, who had come to him with both innocence and sensual intent. What had left her so restless and unmoored that she had sought refuge in his arms?
Rebecca knew where she resided. She would have had to establish some manner of connection, some assurance of safety and discretion. Rebecca sent for Red when needed and ensured her arrival and departure were managed without question.
“Did she come in her own carriage this evening?” he asked, his tone casual, though the question was anything but.
Rebecca’s gaze flickered, noting the inquiry for what it was. “No. I sent a carriage for her, as usual. You are one of the few men I call a friend, Raine, but I will not reveal where my coachman collects her. To betray her confidence would be dishonorable.”
Sebastian smiled. “I wondered, but I would not ask you to betray her. If she wishes me to know, she will tell me.”
Rebecca smiled. “It is one of the reasons I trust you. You respect the boundaries a woman sets.”
He inclined his head once. “I shall leave it to you to see her safely home,” he said. “She is resting.”
Rebecca studied him for a moment, something assessing in her expression, before she gave a slight nod. “It shall be done.”
Sebastian turned to leave. He did not look back. Yet as he stepped once more into the corridor, a quiet thought pressed upon him with unwelcome persistence. If he learned her true identity, would it lessen the desire she stirred within him, or deepen it beyond recall?
Three days had passed since that night at Aphrodite, yet Darcy still could not find her equilibrium.
She sat in the drawing room with Sebastian’s note open upon her lap, her gaze lingering upon the bold, decisive hand that had penned the invitation.
Even now, her pulse betrayed her, quickening in a way she could neither master nor fully understand.
Sebastian.
His name moved through her thoughts with dangerous intimacy.
She could no longer think of him as the earl. Not after what had passed between them, or the way he had taken her into his arms and undone her with a pleasure so consuming that its echoes still moved through her body.
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she forced herself to look away from the letter.
That night lingered with a vividness that left her strangely discomposed.
Rebecca had woken her just before dawn, her knowing smile impossible to ignore.
Darcy had flushed deeply beneath Rebecca’s teasing gaze, murmuring her thanks with the composure she could muster, though her limbs still trembled from exhaustion, soreness, and something far more dangerous: a hunger for more.
Darcy had returned home before the servants stirred, slipping quietly into the house as though she carried a fragile secret.
And since that night, she had kept her distance, avoiding both Aphrodite and Sebastian with deliberate care.
Rebecca had written, of course, requesting her presence for the next commission, a scene far more daring than any she had yet undertaken: an orgy.
Darcy had replied with careful politeness, asking for a few days’ reprieve and promising to set a date soon.