Chapter 21
Red did not answer at once. Sebastian could still smell the decadent fragrance of her passion in the air, taste of her sex, and hear the echo of her lovely cries of release.
He waited, an unfamiliar tension gathering within him as the silence lengthened.
Already his mind moved ahead, considering how thoroughly he would ensure she wanted for nothing.
A house, servants, gowns, jewels, whatever comforts or indulgences pleased her.
Red would never need to ask twice for anything within his power to give.
His gaze remained fixed upon her, his body deceptively relaxed while something inside him drew increasingly taut.
The silence stretched, measured and deliberate, before she answered with quiet certainty, “No.”
Sebastian closed his eyes, the refusal landing with a force he had not anticipated, made sharper by the soft steadiness of her voice.
“Red—” he began.
“I will be your lover,” she said, cutting him off with gentle firmness. “Until I leave.”
His chest tightened as a sensation he had never known in all his eight-and-twenty years cleaved through him. “Leave? To where? When?”
She pushed herself upright, her hands braced against his chest. The tenderness in her eyes damn well robbed him of breath.
“Perhaps I shall leave London five months from now,” she replied.
“Perhaps in a year. I might go to the seaside, or travel upon the Continent. I have always wished to live abroad for a time. I shall be your lover…” A becoming flush crept up her slender neck to her cheeks.
“Even your friend. But I will never be a kept woman. I shall make my own way in this life, relying on my own wits and determination.”
Something complicated shifted within him.
Admiration came first, sharp and undeniable.
He admired that pride in her, that stubborn insistence upon standing upon her own feet when accepting what he could so easily provide would make her life infinitely more comfortable.
Yet beneath the admiration came another feeling he was less willing to examine. An odd familiarity.
Bloody hell.
Miss Darcy Whitley.
The same quiet pride lived in her. The same refusal to be beholden. Darcy would sacrifice until she had nothing left for herself, yet he suspected she would sooner walk barefoot through London than accept a pair of boots if she believed the gift came with obligations attached.
How peculiar that the two women who had begun occupying far too much of his thoughts should possess the very quality he had never before thought to seek in a woman. And more troubling still was how deeply it appealed to him.
His gaze lingered upon Red, something tightening low in his chest. He had begun this affair wanting her body, fascinated by her innocence and the unexpected sensuality beneath it. Somewhere along the way, he had begun admiring the woman herself.
Just as he was becoming far too enthralled with Darcy. The realization left him distinctly uneasy.
“There is another matter,” he said, his satisfaction fading beneath a more immediate concern. “You might be with child.”
She jerked, her eyes widening. “What did you say?”
“The first time we came together, I spent inside you. We shall have to wait and see whether your monthly courses come. If they do not…” He held her gaze. “There is a possibility I got you with child.”
Relief flickered across her face. “I…I have had my courses since.”
It was damned peculiar that relief was not his only response. A pang of disappointment struck him, fleeting but unmistakable, and he knew he would later be forced to examine what it revealed about him.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Are you able to ensure that I do not fall with child?”
“I can greatly lessen the danger. Earlier, I withdrew before releasing my seed, and hereafter I shall use a sheath.”
She touched the corner of his mouth, her eyes somber. He wished he could see their true color clearly and imprint it upon his memory. The black-and-red silk mask, together with the shifting light, always seemed to alter them.
“Thank you for attending to a danger of which I was ignorant. It would have been the most terrible thing if I had fallen with child. In truth, the notion so terrifies me, I daresay I shall never take another lover unless I have first married him.”
Sebastian smiled at the stubborn earnestness on her face. “Is it that you do not wish for children?”
She stilled. “I do, but I want them born within the bonds of matrimony. I will not condemn my children to the horrid stain society places upon bastards.”
His heart wrenched at the passion in her tone. Something in the natural rise of her voice struck a familiar chord before vanishing. Red always kept her pitch deliberately low, but just then… she had forgotten herself. Sebastian narrowed his gaze. “Do we know each other outside of Aphrodite?”
Her teeth caught nervously at her lower lip, drawing his attention to the fullness of her soft mouth.
“We do,” he said slowly. “How very interesting.”
“We are barely acquainted.”
That, he could believe. Sebastian did not cultivate the company of unmarried ladies, especially debutantes.
He had no wish to marry anytime soon, and the danger of scandal forcing him into a match not of his choosing had always kept his manner toward them to the barest civility.
It was entirely possible that he had exchanged no more than a bow with Red at some crowded assembly.
Damn it to hell. Even with that reasoning, he wanted to see all of her. Still, he would not pressure her.
Sebastian cupped her jaw and lifted her anxious gaze to his. “I will not pry into your affairs if you do not wish to tell me.”
Red’s chin trembled slightly, and only then did he see how hard she labored to appear brave. She searched his face before the tension slowly left her. “You mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
A knock sounded upon the door. Sebastian rose from the bed with a quiet exhale, reaching for his banyan and shrugging it over his shoulders before crossing the room.
The air still held the warmth of what had passed between them, a lingering trace that followed him even as he turned the handle and opened the door.
Rebecca stood there, composed as ever, her gaze sweeping over him with a knowing look.
“I trust I am not intruding overmuch,” she said lightly.
“You rarely do anything without purpose,” he returned. “What is it?”
“I am planning the next scene,” she said. “An orgy, one that will rival the grandest compositions. Several ladies have already expressed a preference for you, my lord. I would be pleased if you would participate.”
Sebastian frowned. “Why should I take part in an org—”
“Why does it matter?” came Red’s voice from behind him, soft but firm.
He turned slightly, enough to see her where she lay upon the bed, propped against the pillows, the lamplight tracing the lines of her form beneath the covers.
“You will not be a part of it,” she continued, her gaze fixed upon him, “so long as I am your lover.”
A slow smile curved his mouth as quiet satisfaction settled within him at her claim. Color climbed Red’s slender throat and warmed the slivers of cheek left exposed by her mask.
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed fractionally as she studied him. “I trust I shall not lose you to this… curious notion of love and domesticity that has already claimed Basil, Ambrose, Bainbridge, and Radbourne.”
Sebastian gave a soft huff of amusement. “I am in no danger of domesticity,” he said. “But while Red and I are lovers, I have no desire to seek another woman.”
Even as he spoke, the image of Miss Darcy Whitley rose unbidden in his mind, her smile bright and unguarded, her gaze meeting his with a candor that lingered far longer than it should have. The thought sat uneasily beside his declaration.
Rebecca watched him for a moment, something thoughtful passing through her expression, though she did not press the matter.
Instead, she inclined her head. “Very well,” she said simply, before turning and walking away.
Sebastian closed the door and turned back into the room.
The sight that met him drew his steps to a halt.
Red sat at the center of the bed with the elaborate wig cast aside.
A cascade of rich brown hair fell unbound about her shoulders, luminous in the firelight and framing her masked face with a natural beauty that struck him with quiet force.
For a moment, he said nothing. She regarded him steadily, a softness in her expression that had not been there before.
“I know how curious you are.” Red tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear. “I wished to give you one small piece of the woman beneath the disguise,” she said gently.
Sebastian moved toward her, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving her masked face. “Your hair is beautiful,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
She smiled, almost shyly, and when he reached for her, she came into his arms with a softness and eagerness that captivated him entirely.
I am falling into something I scarcely understand, he admitted silently as his lover slipped a hand around his nape, drew him down, and captured his mouth in a sensual kiss, her tongue sliding against his.
When their mouths parted, she remained close enough that her breath warmed his lips.
“I know whatever this is between us…it is not permanent. And while I understand it is considered the privilege of gentlemen to take several lovers, whether they keep a mistress or even possess a wife, I would demand…fidelity.”
Her words settled heavily within Sebastian. No lover had ever asked such a thing of him. Fidelity was an expectation reserved for marriage vows, and even then, too many gentlemen of his acquaintance regarded those vows with remarkable flexibility.
An affair carried no such obligation. Neither he nor Red had promised the other permanence. By every rule governing such arrangements, she had no claim upon his fidelity.
Yet the demand did not offend him. More troublingly, he discovered that he wanted the same from her.