At The Stroke Of Midnight (17 page)

Slowly, he traced the line of her
leg again, careful not to frighten her.
 
She was unused to being touched and he did not want her to fear
him.
 
He needn't have worried however,
for she arched into his touch like a cat starved for affection.

"I need you, Jane," he
whispered, "but I can't have you.
 
It wouldn't be fair or right."
 
She started to protest so he kissed her, long and slow, leaving no doubt
in her mind how much he wanted her.
 
"But I can give us both something.
 
It is not what I want, but it will have to do."

"I am yours," she
breathed, her eyes closed tightly as if she could not contain all that she felt
inside.
 
He understood that feeling all
too well, as he felt the same.
 
"All of me, Sebastian.
 
All
of me belongs to you."

It was all the permission he needed
to continue, his mouth plundering hers as his hands explored the hidden secrets
between her legs.
 
She was wet, so very,
very wet and all for him.
 
When he
brushed his hand over her mound of curls, she arched up into his touch and he
swallowed her cry with his kiss.
 
He
longed to strip them both bare and slide inside of her welcoming heat, for he
knew they would be a perfect fit.

Instead, he contented himself with
sliding first one finger and then another deep inside of her, teasing her body
until he felt her tighten around him.
 
With each stroke, she moaned a little longer, her body rising up to meet
his hand, just as he knew she would welcome another, much harder part of
him.
 
This wasn't enough.
 
It would never be enough, not for him
anyway, but it would have to suffice.
 
It was all he would ever have of her.

Jane wanted.
 
She wanted more.
 
More of what she had no idea, only that there had to be something
else more than this slow, maddening torture that inflamed her body to the point
where she was ready to forget herself and plead with Sebastian to take
her.
 
She could not do that and some
part of her mind knew it.
 
That still
did not mean she did not want however, and want with a fierce hunger that
surprised her.

With each thrust of his fingers
into her most secret core, she felt the pressure begin to build and she writhed
beneath him on the bench, the hard feel of the wood pressing into her back.
 
She did not care.
 
She would endure all manner of pain just to continue the feelings
that Sebastian was causing to race through her until she felt both numb and yet
so very much alive all at the same time.

She clawed at his back, aware that
she might well be shredding his thin lawn shirt.
 
So much the better.
 
If
they were caught, she would be his.
 
There would be no way to save her from scandal other than marriage, and
though she did not want him that way, she was quickly moving past the point of
reason.
 
All she wanted was this man.

Then, she felt him increase his
pace, the feel of his fingers inside of her, quickening, pulling her closer to
the edge, though to the edge of what she did not know.
 
Then, when he brushed his thumb over her
most sensitive nub, she was immediately lost, the wave of exquisite pleasure
crashing over her hard and fast.

Clinging to Sebastian, Jane bucked
against his hand, taking all that he was willing to give until she was utterly
spent, her cries still echoing in the empty music room where there was no one
to hear.
 
Just her, Sebastian, and the
ghosts of her ancestors who had come before her.

Finally daring to open her eyes,
she did so just in time to see a single tear slide down his cheek.
 
That lone tear told her all that she needed
to know.
 
He loved her.
 
And her heart broke a little bit more at the
realization, even as her body sang with the contentment that she found in his
arms.

Christmas Eve day dawned cold, wet
and miserable, matching the way Sebastian felt deep inside.
 
Today was his last day with Jane.
 
No news had come from his solicitor in
London, no word on if there might be a way to break, or at the very least
circumvent, his father's will and his mother's promise.
 
No idea of whether or not his plan to name a
new heir might succeed or if it could even be implemented in time.

He had originally planned another
early morning outing for the two of them, as the hours at dawn were the only
time they could truly be alone and enjoy each other's company without fear of
discovery.
 
However the messy, sticky
wet snow of the night before, combined with his late hours with Jane in the
music room had foiled those plans.
 
Now
he was left with the extremely distasteful choices of joining the rest of the
house party in the breakfast room or keeping to himself most of the day.

Sebastian was no fool and he knew
good and well what was expected of him.
 
Tonight or tomorrow, all assembled expected him to announce his
betrothal to Lady Elizabeth.
 
His presence
at breakfast where she would certainly be holding court was very nearly
required.
 
Yet he did not wish to put
himself through the torture of listening to her prattle on about ribbons and
bows and other feminine nonsense.
 
The
girl could honestly think of nothing save for fashion and gossip about the
ton
,
two things that he detested above all others.

And yet, he was bound for a
lifetime of just such torture.
 
All
because of his mother and her promise.
 
Not to mention his own sense of honor.

For in the dark of night, well after
he had left Jane at her own door, he had admitted silently to himself what he
had known in the very depths of his heart all along.
 
He might love Jane - even to the point of distraction - but he
owed a great deal, nearly his entire life, to his father, the legacy of the
Covington estate, and to those whose lives depended upon him.

He also had too much honor to
abandon those who had come to depend on the Covington title for
generations.
 
He could not leave them to
the mercy of his cousin and the validity of his other plan, the one he had sent
by courier to London the previous day after his morning interlude with Jane,
had yet to be addressed.

There was hope for a different
future, but it was slim and fading quickly.

And it was making him decidedly
grouchy.
 
Not to mention undeniably
angry.

Rather than take his ever-growing
wrath out on the unsuspecting house party guests, Sebastian dressed in the dark
of his room, not bothering to call for his valet, who would probably insist on
dressing him for a proper breakfast, and instead decided to explore
Blackstone.
 
After all, he would be
spending a great deal of time within its walls so it would be nice to know
precisely where he was going instead of wandering aimlessly and hoping to find
the correct room he was searching for on a whim as he had done last evening.

It was also an activity that he
could do alone, thereby sparing people his foul mood and temper.

He roamed the silent manor house
for the better part of a half hour, lantern in hand, nodding sharply at the
servants as he passed them.
 
A few of
them eyed him a bit suspiciously, but for the most part, they regarded him
quizzically, as if they knew about his inner turmoil and nearly dared him to
find a way to fix it.
 
By the time he
stumbled into the Devonmont portrait gallery, he found it surprisingly easy to
determine which servants were loyal to Jane and those whose loyalties rested
with the countess and Lady Elizabeth.

Opening the curtains slightly, he
let in the pale light of the coming dawn, the sun's weak rays casting odd
shadows over the portraits of those who had come before the current Earl and
Countess of Devonmont.
 
Including the
previous countess.
 
Jane's mother.

For there was no one else the last
portrait on the wall could be.
 
Jane
looked exactly like her, down to the lush, curling hair that contained so many
colors Sebastian wasn't certain he could count them all.
 
Catronia Ashford had been beautiful and, if
she had been anything like her daughter, completely captivating.
 
It was no wonder the earl had been
smitten.
 
It was no wonder that
Sebastian was either.

"She was my world, you
know."
 
Sebastian turned to see
Charles Ashford walk into the room, already immaculately dressed for the
day.
 
"I died when she did."

"And yet Jane is the one who
still suffers."
 
The words were out
before Sebastian could think, but he was not sorry he had spoken them for he
needed some place to vent his temper.
 
This man would do well enough.

During his meetings with Devonmont
a few months before, there had been too many other people in the room -
including Angeline and his own mother.
 
Too many meetings had taken place without him, as well.
 
Now it was just the two of them, and given
Sebastian's temper, he was no longer about to keep silent.

Devonmont shoved his hands into his
pockets and walked over to stand next to Sebastian, all the while gazing up at
the portrait of his late wife with something akin to utter despair.
 
"That was never my intent.
 
I only wished to make her happy."
 

There was an air of sadness about the
man as well, but Sebastian was having none of it.
 
"Any yet you still choose to make her miserable.
 
You see her suffer and yet inflict more
injuries upon her at every turn."
 
He snorted in disbelief and shook his head in disgust.
 
"If you truly cared for her, you would
not have embarked upon this current course of action."

"It is what Angeline
wanted."
 
Devonmont seemed resigned
to ceding control of his life - and by default Jane's as well - to his new
wife.
 
His pain at losing Catronia that
great that he no longer seemed to care.
 
"And it's what Lizzie wanted.
 
She wants a title.
 
I want that
for her, too.
 
She deserves one.
 
She should be a duchess, but a countess will
do."

"And Jane?" Sebastian bit
out angrily, ready to choke the life from the stubborn old man.
 
"What of what she wants?
 
She
is your first-born, female though
she might be.
 
That does give her
position, one that Lady Elizabeth cannot usurp.
 
Or had you decided to ignore the rules our society lives by?"
 
He was challenging Devonmont, he knew, but
he didn't care.
 
This might be his last,
best chance to make a plea for Jane's hand in marriage.

Devonmont was quiet for a
moment.
 
"She has never seemed to
need any of us.
 
Jane that is.
 
She is like her mother in that regard, stronger
than the rest of us.
 
Lizzie did.
 
She still does.
 
It rather sort of just happened.
 
It was never my plan to place one daughter over another."

"Did you ever consider that
Jane was not able to articulate what she needed because she had just lost her
mother and was then given someone who was, in essence, a replacement who
despised her?"
 
Sebastian pinched
the bridge of his nose and began to pace furiously.
 
"Good God, man.
 
Could you not see that Angeline wants nothing to do with Jane and would
be just as happy if she did not exist?
 
If she had died along with her mother?"

"Not at first."
 
The admission seemed torn from the other
man.
 
"Once I did, it was too
late.
 
The patterns were set and I could
not undo them, not without damaging my new family at any rate.
 
I had already lost so much.
 
I could not bear to lose another wife or the
scandal of her taking a lover, for Angeline does nothing quietly.
 
Or simply.
 
Then there was the matter of my heir."

There was the crux of the matter,
Sebastian decided.
 
Devonmont did not
want to lose anything else, including the earldom.
 
So he had made his choice, new family over old, leaving Jane to
fend for herself.

"Then you are a selfish
man.
 
Much like my mother is in certain
respects."
 
Sebastian's words
dripped with anger and malice.
 
"You are beyond selfish to cast aside your daughter, a daughter
born to a woman you claimed to love more than life itself so that your precious
line could continue."

"And are you any better?"
Devonmont challenged, hitting at Sebastian through his weakest point.
 
"Really?
 
You could walk away from your own title if Jane truly means that
much to you.
 
Yet you don't and allow
your mother to pick your bride.
 
She
is the one who refused to allow you to wed Jane, though to be fair, Angeline
would not have abided you choosing Jane over Elizabeth either.
 
So really, you are not so different than me
after all, Covington.
 
And yes, Jane
suffers, but that is how it must be.
 
It
is the way of our society and the rules we live by.
 
It hurts, but there is little we can do to change it."

The older man had him there
Sebastian realized, guilt flooding him in an instant.
 
Was he not doing the very same thing?
 
Picking the earldom over Jane?
 
Was it the same?
 
No, he didn't
think it was, at least not exactly.
 
There were others to consider in his choice.
 
Still, was that not true for Devonmont as well?
 
Perhaps the situations were more similar
than Sebastian wanted to admit.

"So were does that leave
Jane?"
 
Sebastian had to know if
her father still planned to send her to Scotland in a few days.
 
He did not want to make her his mistress,
but if that was the only way to protect her, to keep her safe from men like
Baron Rockville, then he would do it.
 
If only she would agree.

Devonmont looked up at the portrait
of his late wife.
 
"I honestly do
not know.
 
Angeline and Elizabeth both
want her sent away.
 
I have made
arrangements, but no one else knows of them yet.
 
Not even Angeline.
 
It is
not a perfect solution, but it is the only one I could come up with to make
everyone happy.
 
Especially my
wife.
 
She wants Jane gone from
Blackstone immediately."

"And we both know why that
is," Sebastian cut in, his anger growing, especially at himself.

"We do," Devonmont agreed
sadly.
 
"And were there another
option, I would take it.
 
But to have
her in London?
 
Where you might reach
her while you are wed to Elizabeth?
 
For
I know that you will not be able to resist her, though for the life of me, I do
not understand why.
 
That would not do
either.
 
I will not bring that sort of
shame onto my family.
 
No, the best
course of action is to send her away."

This time, Sebastian laughed, an
ugly, cruel sound that was so unlike his normally cheerful nature.
 
"You think sending her to Scotland will
prevent me from reaching her?
 
If I want
to find her, Ashford, I will.
 
Make no
mistake."

"Not if she is already wed and
property of another by the time you locate her.
 
She is too well-born to be a governess, but she will make an
excellent wife to an aging laird with four unruly children, not one as Jane
believes.
 
Her Scottish bloodlines make
her a perfect candidate to be the man's wife."
 
There was a finality in Devonmont's voice that made Sebastian's
blood run cold.

"You would essentially sell
your daughter to a man she has never met in order to keep her away from
me?"
 
Were there truly no lengths
this man would not go to in order to ensure that Jane and Sebastian were kept
apart and appease his dragon of a wife?
 
It did seem that way.

Devonmont stiffened his spine.
 
"I would do whatever it takes to keep
my marriage intact and not a whiff of scandal upon my family.
 
I do not want to lose a second wife from my
bed.
 
Nor do I wish to lose the only
heir I will ever have."
 
He turned
to face Sebastian, his eyes icy now, and his resolve firm.
 
This was more strength than he had ever
shown before.
 
"Much as I adore
Jane, I have a duty that I must do to those who rely upon me.
 
Something I believe you know and understand
as well.
 
If that means that she is
sacrificed to meet those ends, much as it pains me, I will do what I must.
 
I owe it to my family and my legacy, as well
as what my son shall inherit."