Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

M arianne had spent many a pleasant hour playing faro and other card games with friends, but most especially Claudia. And she found, as she sat at the table surrounded by strange men and women, smoke clouding the air around her, drinks flowing freely, that she was benefiting from the practice. She collected her winnings yet again with a laugh as the next event began.

While the cards were shuffled, she glanced around the room. She had pictured a great many things while hearing about hells and the underground in whispered tones from people who thought she was too innocent to hear them.

But once inside, she found it was just a large parlor, kind of like a tearoom in Bath, only with more men and louder arguments and somewhat raucous behavior from the visitors.

She jerked her attention back to the matter at hand as the banker began to lay out the cards before him. Only she saw something that caught her eye. The man to his closest left was slipping his gaze toward the banker's shoulder. Toward the cards.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, motioning to the banker. "I believe the gentleman on the left can see."

The man in question jerked his gaze toward her, his bleary eyes growing wide. "I beg your pardon, chit?"

"Perhaps you didn't mean to," she said as the others at the table began to stare at her and uneasiness rose from deep within her. "It's—it's so easy to accidentally do just that when directly beside the banker."

The banker twisted in his seat and started waving his hand. "What did I tell you, Wilcox? Over and over, you lousy cheat?"

"I weren't cheating!" the man she'd accused said. "That little whore is lying!"

Marianne gasped at the nasty accusation and pushed her chair back slightly as the accused, Wilcox got up and leaned across the table toward her. "Do you know who I am, bitch? Do you know what I can do?"

Fear streaked through her, its cold hand chilling every part of her body. She'd never been spoken to in such a manner before and she realized how badly she had miscalculated this interaction in her naivety. Slowly she stood and held up her hands to block her face, just as Sebastian had taught her when they sparred. But she didn't think one of her punches could stop this man. Perhaps, though, she could still calm the angry bull who looked ready to charge.

"I wasn't trying to cause trouble, only to play a fair game, sir."

"And we'll have one. You're banned, Wilcox!"

The banker lifted a hand to motion for someone to come over, likely to escort the angry man out, but before he could, Wilcox lunged at her. She staggered back, crashing into her own chair as she covered her head with her hands and waited to be struck. Only it didn't happen because before he could reach her another man shoved his way between them and pushed the cheat so hard that he stumbled backward and fell across the table behind him.

There was a great deal of shouting and then a true fight began, sending everyone from her table rushing to join the battle. She looked up to see who her savior was and felt all the color drain from her cheeks as she realized it was Sebastian. He was here, and he was glaring down at her as he grabbed her hand and began to drag her away from the melee that had begun.

"What were you thinking, Marianne?" he hissed.

She could formulate no answer for she had never seen Sebastian like this before. His bright eyes had no teasing light in them, but were dark with emotion and his fingers gripped hers with almost desperation as he pulled her across the room.

"Answer me!" he insisted, moving her ever closer to the door.

Behind them, Mr. Lanford suddenly rushed up, his face red and his breath short. "Great God, Ramsbury, I didn't think you were going to join us!"

Sebastian turned an even more thunderous expression on him. "Outside with you, too," he grunted, and motioned toward the door.

Chaos reigned behind them as he maneuvered them outside where people were either streaming out of the building to escape the punches being thrown or rushing in to take part in the fray.

Once Sebastian had gotten them to where the carriages were parked, away from some of the cacophony of the hell, he released Marianne and grabbed Lanford by the lapels. As Marianne jerked her hand up to cover her mouth, Sebastian slammed him into the side of the closest carriage.

"What the fuck were you thinking, you absolute twat?" he said, too quiet and too close to Lanford's face.

The other man swallowed, sweat breaking out on his brow. "I-I-I?—"

"You think this place is a for a lady ?" Sebastian continued. "Do you think that the Earl of Delacourt would be pleased that you took his innocent sister to a hell where a fight would break out just for looking in the wrong direction?"

"I-I thought it would be a laugh," Lanford managed to gasp out. "I was there, wasn't I? To-to protect her if need be."

"Were you?" Sebastian pushed him harder against the vehicle and then dropped him into a heap at his feet. "Because I didn't see you anywhere near her. I saw you flirting with a lightskirt across the room while Marianne nearly got assaulted by some drunken card cheat."

He pivoted toward Marianne, his eyes flashing and his hands trembling. "What carriage did you come in?" he asked, his tone sharp and hard.

"I-It was Mr. Lanford's carriage," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

"Where?" Sebastian barked, turning back to Lanford.

Lanford pointed a few down the row. "That one," he said. "The blue one."

"Good. My horse is being held by the groom just there. You will follow us home on him. And you will keep your poxy mouth shut about all of this, do you understand?"

Lanford nodded as he got up and brushed the dirt from the muddy drive off his trousers as best he could. "Y-Yes, my lord."

Without another word, Sebastian caught Marianne's elbow and drew her forward again. This time he stopped at the same carriage she had taken to the hell not an hour ago and yanked the door open.

"Take us back to Delacourt's estate," he growled at the stunned-looking servant, who cast a quick glance at his muddy master before Sebastian yanked the carriage door shut and locked them into the darkness together.

Lanford must have indicated that the driver follow Sebastian's order, for not a moment passed before they began to move. Sebastian said nothing, just sat across from her, arms folded, breathing heavily in the oppressive quiet of the carriage.

Marianne shifted and the shock of what had happened began to fade. "How did you know I was here?" she asked.

He was quiet a moment, but the mood in the carriage shifted again, this time she felt…guilt. He almost seemed guilty even though she had been the one to do something outrageous.

"Sebastian," she said.

He turned his face toward the window. "Lanford invited me and I intended not to go, but changed my mind. When I arrived, I saw you."

She gripped her hands in her lap at the dismissiveness of that statement. "And so you decided to humiliate me in front of a room full of strangers and probably neighbors, not to mention Mr. Lanford?"

He leaned forward and a shaft of moonlight hit his face, creating hard angles. "So worried about Lanford's opinion, are you?"

"Why would you care?" she asked, and the fear she had felt so keenly earlier began to transform into something harsher. It turned to anger. "You made it clear in London that you have no interest in me. Why would it possibly matter if I valued the opinion of some other gentleman?"

"A gentleman." He let out an ugly laugh. "It isn't gentlemanly to escort a lady to a place like that and then not closely take care of her well-being."

"Ah, so the problem was not me going there, it was him not watching me like I was a petulant child." She shook her head. "I have enough over-protection from my brother, Sebastian, I don't need it from you."

"It seems you do. And the problem, my dear, is you going there because you don't know how to protect yourself. You don't know what to look for in a crowd of half-drunk men who expect the women are willing…more willing then I think you'd wish to be with a stranger. You don't know how not to start a fight over a cheat at faro."

"That man shouldn't have cheated!" she declared, throwing up her hands. "I was winning fairly and he was looking at the banker's cards before they were thrown."

He caught her upper arms in both hands and dragged her forward. She toppled off the seat and against his chest, flattening her hand against the warm plane of muscle there. Her heart was pounding, certainly he had to feel it, just as she felt his even through all the layers of propriety that separated them.

"This isn't a fucking card match with your spinster friends, Marianne. That man was coming for you. Likely no one at that table would have stopped him from hitting you or worse. It isn't a game there."

She bit her lip and tried not to think of the loud anger of the man she had accused. Of the fear that had blossomed in her chest when he lunged for her. The relief when Sebastian had appeared like some knight in a children's story and ridden to her rescue.

She stared up at him, his blue eyes almost gray in the darkness. His fingers loosened on her arms slightly and one lifted to brush her hair away from her cheek.

"I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't gotten there in time," he whispered.

She blinked at that admission, softly but powerfully made. "I'll—I'll be more careful next time."

The carriage slowed to a stop and he released her, letting her go back to her seat. "Next time," he repeated, and his expression grew shocked. "You mean you intend to go back to that place?"

"Or something like it. I can't promise I won't," she said, stepping down without waiting for the driver to help her. She certainly didn't need the humiliation of more prying eyes.

Sebastian followed at her heels. "Do you hear how mad that sounds?"

"No!" she said as she walked into the house. She dropped her voice and made for the stairs in the hopes he wouldn't follow her, though of course he did. "Sebastian, I will be careful. But I rather enjoyed the atmosphere until the game went awry. I'd like to see more of the hells. I've heard of one called the Donville Masquerade from the whispers of some of the married ladies and?—"

He dragged her into her chamber, shutting the door behind her and spinning her to pin her against it. "You cannot go there!" he said. "Not there."

"Sebastian," she said, pushing against his chest. This time he didn't let her go but held her there.

"Goddamn it, Marianne. You may try to be more, but you're still so innocent," he said. "And if you push too hard you might get hurt. And not just by a misplaced fist. I never want that for you."

"You are just like my brother," she said, shoving him harder and making him step aside where he dragged a hand through his hair in clear frustration. "You want nothing for me. You made it more than clear. But you have no hold over me, Sebastian. You don't get to decide what I do."

"You think you know what I want when it comes to you?" He stepped toward her and suddenly he felt so big in the little room she'd had to herself her entire life. He felt like he stole the air, stole the heat, stole everything. "I don't want nothing for you, Marianne. In fact, I fear I want too much."

He was moving closer and closer, his gaze holding her so steady that she felt pinned in place. When he reached her he caught her arms yet again, but this time there was no desperation, no force, there was just…passion. All of it increased when he tugged her against his chest once more and kissed her.

She should have refused him. After all, it was less than a week before that he had declared they couldn't do this because of his loyalty to her brother. She had vowed never to pursue him again, no matter how much it ached to do so.

But she couldn't pull away. He was a magnet and she was held to him by forces of nature. As his tongue drove against hers, she lifted against him, grasping at his lapels the way he'd grabbed Lanford's, trying to mold herself close enough that he couldn't separate them.

She was trembling as his kiss deepened and then slowed. The passion didn't cool, but it became more metered as his hands stole away from her arms and down her back, across her hips, around her backside where he lifted her against him with a deep, rumbling groan of what she recognized was desire. And her own body answered, thrumming with the same, aching in a way she understood now that he had touched her.

She didn't want it to end. She didn't want him to pull away again. Not tonight. Not now when she was so close to a taste of something she had longed for even when it had no name.

"Marianne," he moaned against her mouth, then he kissed her again, relentless and desperate.

"Please," she murmured, clinging tighter to him. "Please don't push me away. Please don't."

He pulled back a fraction, their lips still almost touching, and looked at her through a hooded gaze. "You know what you're asking."

"Yes," she whispered. "Better than anyone. But what is there to save myself for, Sebastian? The kind of man who would, as you said, abandon me to be attacked while he flirted with someone else? For the wall of every ballroom until I'm too old for invitations unless I'm serving as the chaperone for a niece? In this, I think you are the innocent, for you have no idea what it is like to be so certain that your future will be empty. At least let me have this."

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a shaky breath even as his hands continued to stroke the length of her body. Then he lifted his head and slid a hand into her hair to tilt her face up toward him.

"If you change your mind, you only have to say no," he said softly before his mouth returned to hers with more heat, more power and more purpose than before. And as she swirled into the dark heat of his desire, she knew that everything in her life was about to change and she couldn't wait.