Rawlings went to the center of the room and cleared his throat. “I shall pull a name out of the hat. The first participant will sit in the chair here and be blindfolded, one by one you must march in front of he or she, giving the blind man or woman adequate time to feel and make a guess, are we all clear?”
Obnoxious giggles answered him, making Emma groan. Sebastian tapped her lightly on the side and shook his head in amusement.
“Miss Emma Gates,” Rawlings drawled from the center of the room. “Your name has been chosen. Please take your seat.”
Emma’s teeth clenched. With the stress she was under during this house party, it wouldn’t surprise her if she was grinding those same teeth every single night. How could a woman stand being so close to Sebastian at night and manage to sleep?
It was near impossible.
Emma took her seat and cast a nervous glance at Sebastian. His reassuring wink set her heart a flutter all over again.
Goodness gracious, she wasn’t some green girl on her first carriage ride. Why did it feel that way every time he looked at her?
Rawlings stood in front of her. “Ready?”
She nodded and froze as she felt his long warm fingers wrap around her head, tying the blindfold in place. And then his hot breath was on her ear.
“Remember, Emma. No peeking.”
Would it be terribly rude to kick him in the shin?
Biting back a retort, she merely said, “Of course.”
And waited.
Muffled voices and shoes scraping the floor were the only hints she was given that the men had been chosen, for wasn’t that how these games worked? If a woman was sitting in the chair, she had to touch a man and vice versa.
Scandalous, to say the least.
“You may begin,” came Rawlings’ voice.
Emma reached out and felt a hand, it was limp and not at all the masculine hand she expected it to be. There was no familiarity in the touch. It had to be someone she was not familiar with, unfortunately the only man she could think of was Lord Smythe, so she guessed it.
“Blast! How’d you know?” Lord Smythe commented in front of her.
“You have a delightful handshake. It was quite memorable for me,” Emma lied, hoping the warmth on her face wasn’t a telling blush to her fib.
“Well done!” Smythe cheered.
Another hand was given to her. It was warm, it felt—beautiful. Though she couldn’t figure out why or how a man’s hand could feel beautiful, it just did.
Its warmth reached into her soul, nearly pulling her heart out with it, and all this by a single touch.
They were hands that had possessively covered hers before.
“The Duke of Tempest,” she announced.
“Correct,” Sebastian said, and then his lips kissed her hand. The moment was fleeting, but Emma felt she would swoon straight off her chair at any minute.
And then before she had time to analyze the feel of Sebastian’s lips on her skin, another hand was thrust into hers.
It too was warm, inviting…and large.
Fear spread like a disease through her body, threatening to choke her. Why did these hands feel so familiar? And why was such a terrible feeling associated with the innocent touch of another person?
In the end, fear won out. She guessed Lord Rawlings in order to push the game along.
“Oh, how delightful!” someone squealed. “She guessed all three correct!”
Emma’s stomach sank to her knees.
Chapter Twenty
Sebastian briefly contemplated slamming his head against the mantel on the fireplace. Yes, surely that would rid him of the rage he currently felt at Emma’s familiarity with Rawlings hands. Logic told him that she had also recognized Smythe’s hands, but his jealousy blinded him to that fact.
The blighter.
And then the man’d had the audacity to look him in the eye and smirk all the while beautiful Emma held his hand.
He knew what he wanted to do with Rawlings’ dirty hands. It involved chopping them into little bits and feeding them to the birds outside.
Fighting to keep himself in check, he gave a curt nod to Rawlings as the blindfold was removed from Emma and placed on the next participant.
At the moment, he should be feeling pride that she had recognized him so quickly, but it was snuffed out the minute her lovely voice said Rawlings’ name.
Just what was their history and why was Emma being so secretive about it? Rawlings, drunk sod that he was, hadn’t been able to shed any light on the situation either.
Which made Sebastian curious.
He decided to send a letter to Renwick House asking about the relationship between the two. If anyone knew of her past it would be Sara, and the more he thought about Rawlings’ little confession, the more he suspected Nicholas had no idea of Emma’s past any more than he did.
They were only a day’s ride out of London, surely he would hear back from Sara by the ending of the house party.
At least the worse was over. Emma’s turn was finished. They merely needed to survive the dancing, which would surely follow into the evening, and then Sebastian could adequately devise a plan to steal young Emma’s heart, all the while convincing his grandmother that a woman who is figuratively on the shelf would make the perfect duchess.
Sebastian smiled to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure how in the span of a few days he had decided to try to win over Emma. Maybe it was Rawlings’ attitude toward her that finally pushed him over the edge, or maybe it was the way she knew his touch, or that he couldn’t handle watching any other man lay a finger on her without wanting to commit some sort of crime.
The way he figured it, if he didn’t marry her, she would be someone else’s. And in his heart, his mind, he wanted her to belong to him and only him. Why did it matter if she was a bit too outspoken and adventuresome? She was a beautiful woman, full of life.
Yes, he would admit she had a wild streak, but no scandal he knew of attached itself to her name. All in all, she would be perfect, somewhat amiable, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
If all went well, by the end of the house party he would be announcing their wedding date, knowing full well it was real.
****
The dancing started soon after the game ended. Emma hadn’t said much since her return from her room, but something did seem to be bothering her. Sebastian tried witty banter and even offered to throw food at guests. That at least earned him a smile, but something was definitely wrong.
“May I have this dance?” Rawlings appeared out of nowhere like most rakes and degenerates and grabbed Emma’s hand before Sebastian could protest.
“I, uh…” Emma looked to him for help.
Just as he was getting ready to tell Rawlings exactly where he could go, the man spoke again.
“Miss Gates, we have danced before, have we not? Do you not recall the time in your father’s study when I taught you the quadrille?”
Sebastian clenched his fists as he fought the urge to pummel the man he used to call friend.
“Yes.” Emma’s eyes suddenly lit with fire as she accepted the man’s hand and boldly stepped onto the dance floor, never once looking back at Sebastian or anyone else.
The waltz, not the quadrille as Sebastian had assumed, began playing. Rawlings bowed, Emma curtsied, and then, they were off.
The entire room seemed to still as Rawlings and Emma danced. It was the most captivating thing Sebastian had ever seen.
She had practically ran away from him when he had offered to dance with her in London. Yet today she freely went into the enemy’s arms, not only accepting his offer but dancing in such a way it made Sebastian’s heart ache.
Her laughter teased his senses. Uninhibited it flowed freely around his ears. Rawlings hands continued to lower and pull Emma closer to his person. The only reason Sebastian did not interfere was because Emma didn’t deserve the embarrassment. He was also opposed to scandal, so he stayed firmly put as she danced in another man’s arms. And while another man, his enemy to be precise, freely held her firmly within his grasp.
Briefly Rawlings made eye contact and winked.
Emma was surely dancing with the devil.
The longest dance of Sebastian’s life finally ended and Emma was returned. Positively invigorated, or so it seemed. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant. It was as if a part of her had just awoke, and Sebastian hated Rawlings for being the cause.
****
Watching and waiting was all he was good for. The sound of Emma’s laughter made him clench his fists against his gloves.
She was his.
Plain and simple.
His plan was taking longer than necessary, but that was of no consequence. What was important was that the pawns he used continued to play their parts, oblivious to the idea forming in his mind.
A plan to make her his regardless of the cost. Yes, he had discovered long ago he would manipulate to have her, steal to keep her, and kill all those who crossed him.
Patience was not his strong suit, but for Emma he would be tolerant. Besides, once the house party was finished, it would be over with, and after all these years, she would finally be his.
****
“You dance lovely.” The fact Sebastian was able to say the entire sentence without threatening some sort of death or bodily harm to her dance partner was somewhat extraordinary.
And then all at once he felt like jumping in front of a moving carriage. Emma’s face fell. The brilliant sparkle was gone and in its place all that was left was pain.
“Emma?”
She flashed him a smile and patted him on the arm, but he could tell she worked a little too hard to look excited.
The dancing soon ended. Sebastian never offered for her hand, partially because he didn’t want to upset her. His pride was the other reason. He wasn’t sure he could take the hit of her choosing Rawlings as a dance partner over him.
“I think I shall retire,” Emma announced.
“Would you like me to escort you to your room?” he asked, but she was shaking her head and pulling away from him, from the ballroom, from everything.
Why did he feel suddenly ill? That something was amiss?
****
Emma lied, she had to. There was no other reason for her behavior. She had wanted to prove to Rawlings so badly that she was the same girl, but in all honesty, she desperately needed to show it to herself.
To prove her sins of the past had not broken her spirit.
But the sad truth was, they had.
Her parents’ rejection as well as Rawlings’ abandonment had formed her into the woman she was today.
Again, she resolved to try harder to seduce Sebastian so she could at least once know what it was like.
Her thoughts and lamenting as she left Sebastian standing in the ballroom did nothing to fight off the sickening feeling of being in Rawlings’ arms. Something too familiar, a piece of her she had long forgotten still resided in those arms.
It was painful and it brought fear like she had never known into her life. The chance of discovery and horror of rejection was again her reality. For if Sebastian found out her secret she would have no one. No prospects.
It was risky, denying all the bachelors at the house party.
But all she wanted was him. It would be the death of her.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to go to bed. She wanted to think, she wanted to race, to let her hair flow free in the wind. Looking from left to right she slipped past the ballroom going in the opposite direction of her bedroom and nearly fainted with nervousness. She hadn’t even changed into a riding habit, meaning her legs would surely be exposed when she jumped onto Boxer. Then again it was dark and nobody was following her.