A Passion for Pleasure(91)
Anger boiled through him, propelling him forward in three long strides. “You think I would allow that? Allow you to be slandered for attempting to reclaim your son? God in heaven, Clara, what kind of man do you think I am?”
“I know exactly what kind of man you are! I’ve known for years, ever since I first met you in Dorset. You’re kind and generous and talented. You would do anything to help those you care about. I’ve never doubted that. But I had no more time left. Telling your father was my last resort. If he’d agreed to help me, I might not have needed to run.”
“And where did you plan to go?”
“Away. France. Then America, if I could. As far from my father’s reach as I could possibly get.”
“With no intention of telling me anything.”
“The less you knew, the better for all of us.” Clara looked past him to the door as it creaked open and Andrew entered, a black-and-white cat struggling to escape his clutches.
Andrew glanced from his mother to Sebastian, hesitant to enter the strained atmosphere. Sebastian forced his shoulders to relax as he crossed to where the boy hovered in the doorway.
“You’ve found Minou, have you?” He scratched the cat behind its pointed ears, a gesture that eased Minou’s agitation. “She’s a bit skittish, but becomes quite docile after she’s eaten. You can see if Mrs. Danvers has some fish you can give her.”
Andrew nodded, tightening his grasp on the squirming cat as he hurried off toward the kitchen. Sebastian took a breath and turned back to Clara. She watched him warily, her violet eyes glittering in the damp sunlight.
“I never meant for any of this to happen,” she said. “I only wanted to protect my son.”
Sebastian knew that. He’d known that from the beginning, from the moment Clara proposed. He flexed the fingers of his right hand.
“What else did you want?” he asked.
“What else…?”
“Why did you ask me to marry you?” His heart thumped against his rib cage. “Any man would have done, if the transfer of Wakefield House was your only concern.”
A delicate blush rose to paint her cheeks. “No, not any man. I didn’t even consider the idea until you came back into my life.”
“And was it because I am the son of an earl? Did you think even then that my father might have access to resources that you and Granville did not?”
Her flush deepened to a rose-red. “And if I did? Would you not understand that? Would you blame me?”
A flame of renewed anger bolted through Sebastian again. No, he didn’t blame her for identifying his father as a source of power. But it would kill him to think that had been her sole motive.
“When you refused to approach him for help, Sebastian, I saw everything falling away. I couldn’t allow you to ruin yourself by conceding to my father’s demands. I couldn’t allow him to ruin you by spreading lies about me. What else could I have done but go to your father?”
“You could have come back to me.”
“No.” Her throat rippled with a swallow. “Not if it meant putting you at further risk. And that I never wanted to do.”
She rose and approached him, placed a trembling hand on his chest. His heart pounded against her palm, the warmth of her hand seeping into his skin.
“I had a hope your father’s position would be beneficial,” she said. “It would be a lie if I said otherwise. But that is not the only reason I wanted to marry you. And I did want to marry you, not any man. I wanted to marry Sebastian Hall, the generous and cheerful pianist who never spoke an unkind word. I wanted to marry the man who made people smile simply because he was near. The man who created music as if it were born from his very being.”
Sebastian grabbed her hand so tightly that Clara drew in a breath. Resentment sank claws into his neck.
“That man, Clara,” he whispered, his voice taut, “no longer exists.”
She met his gaze without flinching. Her eyes burned with resolve. “Yes, he does.”
A sharp energy crackled between them. An assault of memories swept through him as he recalled the arid desert of the past few months, a wasteland relieved only by Clara’s presence. Only with her had he felt happy and alive again. Only with her had he begun to believe that he could control his own future. That he had a choice.
Clara rose onto her toes and pressed her lips hard against his. Sparks jolted through Sebastian as her orange-spice scent filled his head. He gripped her waist with his left hand and sank his mouth into hers, their tongues tangling in a sudden collision of heat. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her hands winding around the back of his neck to grip his hair. For an instant he let himself fall into her, let the feel of her obliterate his anger.