One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(15)

He had loved once. And once had been enough. Never again would he be so foolish. Never again would he allow himself to need a woman. A loveless marriage founded on respect. He sought no more than that. That, he feared, would be hard enough to find.

"I only hope you're fortunate enough to marry someone you love." Julianne paused, releasing a wistful sigh. "I remember what you were like in love—"

"Don't," he cut in, hands tightening on the traces.

"Still bitter, are you? I had hoped you let all that go."

"I have. But that doesn't mean I'm fool enough to succumb to irrational sentiments again. I'll leave that…" Seth froze, his eyes catching sight of a hauntingly familiar face in an approaching carriage.

"Seth? What is it?"

"It's…" his voice faded as he examined the woman who wrenched old memories from the arid corners of his soul.

"What?" Julianne prompted.

Jane. She had changed over the years, but he knew her instantly, would know those changeable eyes across any distance.

Her nut brown hair was the same, as was the creaminess of her skin. The angles and hollows of her face were new, reminding him more of her sister. The realization both repelled and intrigued him.

Her body had matured. Full breasts pushed at her snug, high-necked gown, concealing yet displaying enough to make his palms prickle in masculine appreciation. In his mind, Jane had stayed forever the same.

The wild freckled girl whose infectious laughter had lured a smile from him under any circumstance.

"Seth?" his sister demanded, a plaintive edge to her voice.

"It's Jane Spencer," he drawled, his gaze darting to the three girls crowding her in the carriage. Daughters? The idea of Jane with children and the requisite husband—a man permitted to put his hands and mouth on those luscious breasts any time he wished—settled like a heavy stone in his chest.

On closer inspection, he decided the eldest girl appeared too old to be her daughter. Two years his junior, Jane would be six and twenty now. The girl beside her looked no more than ten and three. The other two not much younger.

"Jane?" Julianne cried happily, reminding Seth how fond his sister had always been of Jane, trailing after her and Seth as they roamed the countryside. Happy days. Before the accident.

"Yes," he replied.

"I heard she married. I believe she's Lady Guthrie now."

Lady Guthrie. Seth grimaced, the stone back in his chest as he looked his fill at the lady that had once been his childhood companion.

Jane Spencer, or whatever her name now, had grown into a tasty morsel, not beautiful to be sure, but the voluptuous sort of female that made men think of sex. Sweaty, copious amounts of sex. And some bastard was lucky enough to experience it— her—firsthand. Suddenly the way he remembered her—full of life and intensity—took on new possibilities. Possibilities he had never considered. The prospect of stripping her of her matronly frock and giving his hands free rein to explore those curves, to taste and caress her and discover whether the intensity he had appreciated in her as a child had transferred into other arenas, tantalized him.

"Please, let us say hello, Seth."

"I don't think…"

But it was too late. Jane had spotted them.

Her eyes flared wide and color flooded her cheeks, no doubt recalling how poorly things had ended between them.

She fidgeted beneath his gaze and said something to the driver, motioning with an elegant wave of her hand that he should turn the carriage around.

Does the sight of my scarred face repulse her that much?

Annoyed that she should seek to flee him, Seth slapped the reins and hastened his phaeton forward, before her driver had time to fully turn their carriage.

"My lady," he greeted with a stiff nod, his voice a crack on the misty air. She gave a jerky nod. "Lord St. Claire, Lady Julianne," she replied, her voice small and breathless.

Apparently she knew of his return and acquisition of the title. Like her father and sister, titles and rank likely meant everything to her. His lip curled, causing his scar to tighten uncomfortably. Her hand fluttered to the hand of the youngest girl squirming beside her. Gesturing to each of them, she introduced, "Allow me to present my nieces, Miss Dahlia Billings, Miss Iris Billings and Miss Bryony Billings."

He nodded in acknowledgment, barely sparing the girls a glance, barely hearing his sister launch into effusive greeting as he focused on Jane.

"A pleasure, my lord," the eldest girl greeted in jarring tones, pulling his attention from Jane. The chit eyed him as boldly as any husband-hungry debutante.

Dismissing her, his gaze returned to Jane, finding her studying Julianne with something akin to pity. He was accustomed to the pitying looks people sent his sister. That much hadn't changed in his absence. Each look served as a further heaping of guilt. But there was something different in Jane's look. Something more. Something heartfelt. Something that he would not allow himself to credit.

"It has been too many years, Julianne." Jane's voice washed over him, throatier than he remembered, warm as the Indian sun. Had her mouth always been so damn inviting? Her bottom lip always so moist? So alluringly full? Like the pink meat of a watermelon he would like nothing more than a taste.

"I don't think I would have recognized you. You've grown into a lovely woman." Julianne beamed, her vacant eyes seeming to sparkle. "Have I?"