The Lady By His Side(60)
With newfound alacrity, the company rose; Cecilia’s suggestion had breathed fresh life into the house party.
And Antonia seized the moment. In that instant before Sebastian pushed back his chair, she reached across beneath the table, laid her hand on his thigh, just above his knee, and squeezed lightly—not that her fingers made the slightest impression in taut muscles that, at her touch, had turned to iron—then easing her grip, she trailed her fingers upward in a blatant caress before drawing her hand away.
She’d kept her head turned away from him and her gaze fixed down the table.
For what felt like long moments, stillness seemed to have engulfed him, then from the corner of her eye, she saw him push to his feet.
He leaned over her—closer than necessary. “Allow me.” The dark whisper shivered over her senses.
Then he drew her chair out.
Clinging to wholly spurious serenity, she stood, then turned to follow the others as they filed out of the room.
Sebastian appeared beside her and offered his arm.
Drawing breath into lungs constricted and still tightening, she placed her hand on his sleeve and looked up, a smile on her lips.
Her eyes met his—and she caught her breath.
She’d never before seen his pale green eyes burn, not with that particular flame.
His face appeared graven, all hard edges and sharp angles, but those eyes…they were molten.
Feminine satisfaction of a quality she’d never felt before bubbled up inside her; she fought to keep it from infusing her smile, but in that, she knew she failed.
The slight narrowing of those gorgeously revealing eyes, the increasing intentness she sensed emanating from him, confirmed that.
Glancing forward and finding the other guests now ahead of them, she waved. “Shall we?”
He glanced at the departing backs and seemed to suddenly recall where they were. With a sound like a growling grunt, he steered her toward the door.
What am I doing?
After guiding her out of the dining room, Sebastian lowered his arm. Clasping his hands behind his back, thus ensuring he kept them to himself and wasn’t goaded into any further unwise reaction, he stalked beside Antonia at the rear of the crowd making for the drawing room. While he knew why he’d indulged his inner self by paying her back for her afternoon’s endeavors, he also recalled that he hadn’t intended to send them hurtling down this particular path—not yet.
Yes, he’d intended to play on her senses, to prick and spark them, but he hadn’t allowed for her reaction, or rather the effect her reactions would have on him, spurring him on to more explicit touches—which had only encouraged her to even more daring, more blatantly sexual responses…
He felt as if they were on a runaway carriage, rocketing along with no reins.
Temporarily thrilling, yes, but ultimately destructive.
This—their interaction—had got out of hand.
Entirely unintentionally.
But control lay in his hands, no matter what she might imagine.
As they entered the drawing room, he swore to himself that no matter what the vixen did, he was not going to follow her lead. He was going to retreat to his previous line and hold firm against any actions that would escalate that telltale mutual awareness to any greater heights.
No more touching; no more suggestive remarks. No more playing at all.
With that resolution ringing in his mind, he glanced around. Melinda Boyne had already settled at the piano. She started playing a pleasant Irish tune. Filbury came to stand beside the instrument. Melinda smiled up at him, then he started to sing.
After the first verse, Wilson joined him, their voices blending in a soothing harmony.
Sebastian approved. Nothing remotely encouraging—to his inner self or Antonia.
He touched her arm briefly—just enough to get her attention—and when she glanced at him, with his head he directed her gaze to a nearby sofa on which Georgia Featherstonehaugh and Claire Savage had already taken up residence. There was space enough for Antonia, but not for him, which he deemed wise.
She hesitated, but then fell in with the suggestion and crossed to sink onto the sofa beside Claire.
The next half hour passed in unexceptionable fashion, with various ladies playing and singing, and several gentlemen adding their voices to the harmonies. As befitted daughters of the nobility, Antonia and her three friends were all accomplished pianists and also possessed well-trained voices; they combined to sing a ballad in four-part harmony, entrancing the entire company.
After the applause had died, as Antonia made her way back to the sofa against the back of which Sebastian had propped, he noticed a small conference being conducted on the other side of the room. Cecilia was at the heart of it, with Connell Boyne, Melinda Boyne, and the two older ladies all discussing some subject.