Just Desserts (Holland Springs #4)

Just Desserts (Holland Springs #4) Page 32

“Gorgeous.” He stroked her, easing another finger inside of her and curling them.

She grabbed his wide shoulders and held on for a moment.

The car began to move and she fell back against the seat again.

He stayed with her, his fingers teasing and the thumb he’d pressed against her swollen clitoris torturing her.

“Do you always get to third base in the back of a limo?”

Lifting his head from her breast, he gave her a puzzled look. “Third base?”

She glanced down. Her dress was around her waist and his fingers were sunk deep inside of her. “That’s third base.”

Comprehension dawned and he grinned wickedly. “Shall I tell you the truth or—”

“The truth,” she said. “Always tell me the truth.”

“Yes.” He slid out his fingers and plunged in again. “Third base, second…first…are there any others?”

She giggled, and then moaned when he nipped at her shoulder. “Home, you forgot home.”

“You are my home,” Sebastian said, gazing into her beautiful face. Her cheeks were stained pink and her eyes were smoky with desire. He wasn’t a glib man, not like his brother or cousin. He wasn’t given to quoting poetry. Occasionally quoting pop culture references wasn’t by any means romantic, but he could use his hands, his lips, and tongue to worship her. He would use every part of his body to bring her pleasure.

So he did just that, until she trembled and cried out his name. Watching her come undone in his arms was the most powerful thing he’d ever done in his life.

“I love you,” he said softly.

Her lashes fluttered, eyes refocusing as she came down to earth. “What did you say?”

“I—” He couldn’t say it again, not even knowing she felt the same way. Something held him back. “I love the way you look when you orgasm.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed but he wasn’t sure, because she gave him a blinding smile and kissed him softly. “Thank you for a very nice time.”

Thank you, he wanted to reply, for saving me from my bleak existence, but he didn’t. “You’re welcome.

Four days later, after dining on an amazing lunch prepared by Daisy, Sebastian took her by the hand and led her away from the kitchen. “We’ll wash them up later.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he said and opened the door at the end of the hallway with a flourish. “This is one thing you don’t know about me. No one does, in fact.”

Her eyes grew wide, taking in the paintings and sketches. Some were priceless works by artists long dead while their names lived on while others were his, humble and framed on the opposite wall. Maybe one day.

“Did you paint all these?” She gestured to the wall with his work.

“Yes.” He wrapped his arms around her, settling his hands around her waist and clasping them in the front. “Does that impress you?”

She turned in his arms. “A lot.” Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him and said, “Maybe our baby will have your talent.”

Something sweet washed over him. “Would it be so bad if he or she were entirely like you instead?”

Sympathy clouded her eyes. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

He had. He’d seen himself at his worst, cruelly mocking her. “Hmm,” he said and guided her to the fainting couch by a set of French doors.

“What are you up to?” Sympathy gave way to sparkling anticipation.

“Lie there and don’t move,” he ordered, taking great delight as she did as he asked. He unbuttoned her shirt, spreading it outward and revealing the curves of her breasts and creamy skin.

For days, he had wanted to share his studio, where he painted and sketched. It was his favorite room in the house, aside from the bedroom, to be in. And now she was here, lying on an antique fainting couch made of silk and velvet.

She raised her hands over her head and stretched. His mouth ran dry. “Like this?” Her full lips curved and he sucked in a breath.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do you justice, but I shall endeavor.” He kneeled beside her and dipped his head, dropping a kiss in the deep vee of her cleavage. “The bra will have to go.”

“Really, son, in the middle of the day?”

Sebastian jumped up and away from the lounger, heat creeping up his neck as he turned to face their intruder. “Hello, Mother.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Now she shows up?” Daisy muttered. She scrambled off the lounger and onto her feet, buttoning her shirt. She slipped her hand in his and gave it a supportive squeeze.

“Don’t bloody stand there like a plank, Sebastian. Mind your manners and properly greet your mother,” Lady Francesca ordered, sweeping into the room.

“Why are you here?” Sebastian asked.

Francesca swept off her hat. “No maid or butler?” She held out the hat to Daisy. “Take this and put—”

Sebastian stepped in front of Daisy, obscuring her view of his mother. “She’s not your servant.”

“However, I’m sure she is serving you. You’ve certainly brought her to the right place.”

The right place? Daisy frowned. A preacher and his family had lived here.

“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Fact number one: Your father used this house to keep his English mistresses here. Fact number two: I’ve come to warn your fiancée.”

Daisy stuck her head out from behind Sebastian’s wide shoulders and let go of his hand. “About what?”

“Oh she speaks, and you allow it.” Francesca smirked. “How charming.”

“Mother,” Sebastian growled.

“Leave him. Immediately.”

Stepping around Sebastian, she faced his mother head on. “I don’t want to leave him.”

“Not now you don’t. Not while he’s so like his father at the beginning of things: charming, lovable, vulnerable…sharing the bits about his oh so very tragic childhood. Poor, misunderstood man that can only be changed for the better with the love of a good woman. How could anyone resist that? I certainly didn’t. But when reality sinks in and you realize that you’ll always be second and sometimes third best, you’ll wish you had listened to me.” Francesca extended her hand. “Come, let’s go for a drive and I’ll give you the real story.”

Daisy glanced up at Sebastian. There was a tic in jaw and his hands had clenched into fists. “Bastian?”

“Go if you like,” he bit out. “I’ll not make the choice for you.”

“You don’t have to.”

He slid his gaze to her, his eyes flashing.

“I choose you,” she said simply, taking his hand and gently prying it open. She pressed a kiss to the center of his palm. “I choose your facts. Your memories over a woman who couldn’t be bothered to stay or even fight for her children.”

“Be bothered?” Francesca screeched. “I discovered Vladimir banging my sister on that very lounger, in this very room. And you knew about the affair the entire time.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Christian knew, not me. He was our father’s lookout.”

“Stop maligning him! That poor lad has been through enough because of you. You stole everything from him.”

“He’s a grown man. And you’ve got your knickers in a wad because he didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

“An oversight, I’m sure. Besides, my sources tell me Christian was spotted at Heathrow this morning.”

“Better get new sources, because Christian is already back home. He didn’t come here to see you.”

“That’s not true,” Francesca whined. “Zoe said she would talk to him.”

“Only because my sister-in-law is too damned nice to say no.”

This was not a conversation she needed to continue to hear or witness. “I think I’ll go bake something.” Daisy tried to leave. She inched toward the door and wiggled her fingers, but Sebastian tightened his grip. So, she took a deep breath and stayed by his side.

“Get it through your head, Francesca. We. Don’t. Want. You,” he said.

Francesca took a step closer, her hand darting out and slapping Sebastian across the face. “You’re him all over again. She’ll never be enough for you. Kate wasn’t enough for you. No woman ever will be.”

Daisy stared in horror at the red handprint that stood out in vivid contrast to his pale face. “Please Sebastian, if you let go, I can get some ice.” This time he let go of her. She rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a towel and filling it with crushed ice. Her hands shook as she dashed into the room, bits of ice falling to the floor.

“Do you know why I married that bastard?”Francesca asked and Daisy skidded to a stop just at the entrance to the room.

Sebastian’s gaze met hers, over his mother’s head, but there was nothing behind his blue eyes. “Should I?”

“Because of you and your bother. Your father seduced me, on purpose. I had to get married because I ended up pregnant and thought I loved him,” Francesca said, her voice shaking. “Vladimir said the first time he saw me, he had to have me. He wanted me like he’d never wanted another woman. Who could resist that? Only I didn’t know the truth until a few years later. Romanovs conquered. They took, without asking, using any means available. He didn’t want me—he wanted what I could give him—respectability and a son who would inherit a Dukedom someday.”

Daisy swallowed a scream, of denial or outrage, she wasn’t sure. Sebastian’d said almost the very same thing to her. I saw you. I came. I conquered. I wanted you. I needed you. I’d lie, steal, and cheat…and I’d do it again.

Doubt seized hold of her, razor-sharp claws digging into her heart.

Was their entire engagement a front for his real purpose? Had he engineered the entire thing: from his firing to his public bad behavior, because he really was obsessed with her?

The first time I saw you…

… so you can understand the extreme depths of my obsession with you…

Sebastian stood, straight and tall, his face impassioned as Francesca began to pace. His eyes closed briefly, then impassioned gave way to raw shame, and Daisy’s heart broke for him.

If he really was this evil imitation of his father, would he feel anything, least of all shame? Taking a deep breath, Daisy marched into the room.

“Only he couldn’t wait that long, so he shamed my family by buying Chetham’s title. That’s why your grandfather won’t have anything to do with any of us.” Francesca shook her head, pausing in front of the wall of paintings, her pretty face contorting. “Vladimir’s death hasn’t changed anything, damn him.”

“Leave,” Daisy ordered, going toe to toe with the woman. “Take your nasty mouth and nasty lies and get the hell out of our house.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Lady, there’s a cast iron skillet in the kitchen, and I know how to use it,” Daisy bluffed. Although she really, really wanted to smack the woman. “I’m not just talking about cooking either.”

Francesca gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

Ivan chose that moment to walk into the room.

Daisy smiled. “Ivan?”

“Da, Countess.”

“Frying pan, the big black one. It’s in the cabinet beside the oven.”

He lumbered off.

Daisy crossed her arms, smirking at her. “Anything else you want to say before you leave?”

Francesca made a face and smashed her hat back on her head. “I’ve said what I needed. If you want to stay with that monster, far be it from me to try and stop you further.” She tipped up her chin and sailed out of the room.

The front door slammed behind her.

Daisy turned to Sebastian, uncrossing her arms and holding the towel loaded with ice up to his cheek. “Here, this will help a little.”

Sebastian stared down at her, his eyes smoldering. “Ivan?”

“Da, Mr. Romanov?”

“Is the maid still here?”

“Da. She’s cleaning the upstairs.”

Sebastian slid his gaze to Ivan. “Have her pack up Ms. Barnes things.”

Ivan left the room, cast iron skillet in hand.

“I don’t understand,” Daisy said, bewildered.

“You’re not staying here a minute longer.” He stepped away from her and crossed his arms, tattoo-covered muscles flexing.

Apprehension skittered over her, making her stomach drop. “Where am I going?”

“Home.”

“You don’t want me here anymore?” Daisy asked.

Hell, no, Sebastian didn’t want her here, in this house, not when it had been tainted with Vladimir’s sins. His mother’s accusations and revelations. He was ready to burn the damned fainting couch.

He was ready to burn down the entire house.

“No.” He watched the emotions play across her face, leaving devastation behind. He’d caused her pain. Honestly, his mother wasn’t that far off the mark with her assessment of him. He needed to get Daisy as far away from him as possible, before he really hurt her.

“But you promised we’d get through this together,” she said, her hazel eyes turning shiny with tears.

“I promise a lot of things.”

She bit her lip. “Don’t do this. You’re better than him…you’re not the man she claims you are, and you always keep your promises to me.”