Bound By Blood Page 4

  He took one step forward. Advance and retreat. This dance was as old as time.

  "You don't… what?" he asked, stopping a few feet from her.

  Mesmerized, she regarded him in the shadows and stopped when he did.

  "I…forgot what I was going to say. You're distracting me.” She paused to smile. “ As for things I delight in, I love festivals and fun-houses, the smell of new cars and baby's skin, big cities and starlit nights."

  Once or twice, he nodded like he was making a mental note of everything she said. The way he stared at her with such blatant heat in his eyes heightened the awareness between them. Then he gestured toward the door.

  "Are you thirsty? Perhaps a drink is in order."

  "Yes, that's a good idea,” she said, breaking eye contact for the first time in what felt like an hour. The intensity had hit a peak. They needed to break the spell, throw a ripple into the orbiting cycle of her earth to his sun. On the way down the stairs, his hand hovered just above the small of her back. Laurel was aware of every place their bodies brushed or touched.

  All the customers had trickled out, she noticed, while she'd been distracted upstairs.

  Sebastian ordered her a fresh glass of wine and another scotch for himself, glancing at Pepper only long enough to pay for the drinks.

  "Will you sit in the library with me?" he asked Laurel.

  “The library is perfect,” she said, aware that Pepper cut little glances between them. She caught the bartender's eye when Sebastian collected the glasses and arched her brows. Is he great, or what?

  Pepper wagged her pierced brow and Laurel struggled to contain a grin.

  Sebastian provided a timely interruption.

  "Where are you from originally?" he asked.

  “I'm from Salina, Kansas,” she said, accepting the glass of wine when he handed it over. “Thank you. New York is the big dream, though. I only stopped in Sperling to see Pepper.”

  He took up his scotch and guided her toward the library. Warmth radiated from the flames in the fireplace, a flicker of orange light bouncing off the walls. It was dark here, too, but not as dark as the ballroom had been. A mellow ambiance made it a comfortable place to have a conversation.

  "Tell me about the dream," he asked. Sebastian set down his scotch and removed his suit jacket, draping it over the topcoat he'd left there earlier.

  "Are you sure this isn't boring, Sebastian? I haven't led a very exciting life." Wine glass cupped in her hands, she sat on the small sofa close to the fire, leaving him a choice of sitting next to her or in an adjacent chair. From under the heavy fringe of her lashes, she watched him.

  Sebastian picked up his drink and sat next to her, his body turned to facilitate easy speaking. "I don't think you could be boring, Laurel. In any manner. But if I am prying, tell me."

  Hips tilted, she aligned her body as he had and crossed her legs. The toe of her stiletto brushed against his pant leg and without really thinking about it, she tucked it behind his calf. Although it was probably too intimate a gesture, it felt as natural as breathing. "You're not prying, though you've probably heard this story a thousand times--"

  "I've not heard your story," he said, nostrils flaring at the intimate gesture. The pressure he applied to her foot was light but effective in trapping it there.

  Laurel smiled. "I grew up on a pretty isolated farm. The photographs of glitzy cities seemed so...surreal. Like another world. I became enamored with how alive and busy it looked and the desire to live there never really faded. Pepper moved here about a year ago and when she called, I decided to come see her. We've been planning to travel to New York together when we get enough of a cushion under us."

  "How long have you been here?" he asked.

  Laurel sipped at her wine, watching the firelight cast interesting shadows across his face.

  "Just four months. I really thought Pepper and I would have been gone by now, but we keep lingering for one reason or another.” When he lifted his scotch for a drink, a glint from a ring on his finger caught her attention. Laurel realized she didn't even know if he was married. How could he not be? The thought disturbed her more than she wanted to admit. "But what about you, Sebastian?"

  He put his scotch on the side table and reached down to slide off her shoe. Carefully, he set it on the floor and moved her foot to the top of his knee. He whispered touches over the arch and along the sides without tickling her. "I was born and raised in England. London, as it happens," he said. "I attended Oxford and when I was old enough, I took over my family's various business interests."

  Sudden heat uncurled from the pit of her stomach and increased to almost uncomfortable levels at the feel of his broad hand on the top of her foot. He had long fingers that were as well groomed as the rest of him.

  "Traveling. I'd love to see England. I've never been out of the States. What kind of business?" She watched his face, fascinated by his expressions.

  "Banking, real estate, hospitality. We have offices all over the world," he explained.

  "Do you run it all by yourself, or do you have siblings who help you?"

  "My corporation runs the day to day operations. I have other people who handle the minutiae. My step-sister Isabella is involved in the businesses." He cupped his hand around her ankle, a loose but intimate hold.

  "Are you like this with all the women you meet, Sebastian?" she asked.

  He seemed surprised by her question and laughed, low and quiet. His hand came up from her ankle to brush a knuckle under her chin. "Would it matter to you?"

  "It would if you were married," she admitted. Laurel felt compelled to be blunt. This man was having an impact on her that she couldn't deny, much less control. She wanted to know before things went any further if it was all in vain.

  "I was married as a young man. She died, and I have not remarried," he said. There was a tinge of old regret in his eyes and something fond but not pained.

  She detected no lies in his eyes or his words. He seemed unfailingly honest and up front. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sebastian," she said, sympathetic for his loss. Judging him to be in his mid-thirties, she wondered how young he'd been when he lost her. "What other things do you pursue in your time off?"

  "Thank you. It was a long time ago. I enjoy the arts-- theater, ballet opera. I travel often. Although I have people who oversee my interests, they still require my attention. I have several foundations that I chair,” he said, tacking on a subtle smile.

  "You sound like a very busy man, Sebastian." Laurel felt outclassed even though she understood it wasn't his intent.

  He leaned closer and stroked her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "I'll tell you a secret, Laurel. I can't even remember the last time I kissed a woman."

  Cocooned in his presence, his attention, Laurel forgot about the outside world. Her lips parted of their own accord when he touched them. She arched a brow in disbelief at his reply. "Really? Surely you date often, Sebastian--"

  From his pocket, the chime of a cell phone interrupted her. With a gentle adjustment, he set her foot down and withdrew it. Standing, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Excuse me for just a moment, Laurel.”

  “Sure.” She smiled in understanding and watched him while she sipped her wine. It gave her the opportunity to study him while he was distracted. The crisp, white button down fit his torso well, the muscles underneath straining against the material now and then when he moved. Combined with the sleek, black slacks, it gave him a tailored, polished look she found appealing.

  It dawned on her when she roused herself from her appreciative daze that he was speaking another language into the phone. Italian or something, she thought. While he finished up the call, she wiggled her toes back into her shoe and set the nearly drained glass aside.

  “Forgive me,” he said, walking back toward the couch.

  “That's okay.” She stood up when he didn't sit back down, intuiting that he probably had to go. She smoothed the line of her skirt with her palms and smiled. “It wa
s great to see you again.”

  Sliding his phone into his slacks, he took a step closer. Sebastian seemed torn between thought and action, until he finally said. “I'm needed at the house, unfortunately. A small matter that I cannot put off. I enjoyed seeing you again as well, Laurel.”

  The intimacy he spoke with sent a fissure of heat through her body. “Well, I have your number now, and I'm not afraid to use it. Expect to hear from me soon.” She took the proverbial bull by the horns, inviting herself to see him again before she lost her nerve.

  He rumbled a low sound and again, looked conflicted about something. Picking up his suit jacket, he pulled it on followed by the topcoat. She walked with him to the broad archway leading into the main room, maintaining eye-contact, wondering what it was he wasn't saying. Or asking.

  “Laurel--”

  The red-head and her two male companions from the other night strolled in the front door, distracting her and Sebastian both. Laurel glanced their way and smiled with recognition. By the time she looked up at Sebastian, he was staring at the three with an unreadable expression.

  “Yes, Sebastian?” she asked in an effort to get him to finish what he was saying. Her gaze strayed to the three customers; one of the men gave what she thought was a cocky grin to Sebastian and the red-head inclined her head. Some sort of silent communication was going on, but Laurel couldn't figure out what. It didn't seem to be simple acknowledgment.

  “Let me walk you up to your room,” he suggested, gesturing toward the stairs.

  Laurel hadn't ever told him her room was upstairs. Then again, where else would it be? The lower floor was devoted totally to supporting the bar. She nodded her agreement and let him escort her up to the second level.

  “Did you know those people, Sebastian?” she asked. When they came to her door a moment later, she turned to face him.

  “No, I've never seen them before,” he said, keeping his voice just above a whisper. “How would you like to come stay at my home for a night? No strings attached. I have more than enough room and after I take care of my business, perhaps we can pick up our conversation.”

  Using a thumb, she adjusted the thin strap of her shirt, studying his eyes. Under normal circumstances, she would have automatically said no. But she'd left home to see a little of the world, to have experiences beyond what she'd known. What could it hurt? Besides being intrigued about his life and his home, she trusted Sebastian to keep his word. No strings attached.

  "Actually, that would be great. I just need to pack an overnight bag." Which meant, standing right in front of her door, that he would see her room. Laurel quelled the instant panic that surfaced. She didn't want him to see the haphazard array of boxes and lack of furniture. “I can do that and meet you downstairs?”

  He eyed her like he knew there was something she didn't want him to see and she felt heat collect in her cheeks.

  “Of course, Laurel.” He smiled and turned to depart the hallway.

  She wasted no time wool-gathering. Rushing inside, she found a large duffel bag and plopped it on the bed. It was just one night, she told herself over and over, while she packed for at least five days. Jeans, shorts, eight tops, three pairs of shoes. This set of pajamas, no that one. And an extra set just in case. Make-up, god yes, and a few toiletries. Half her bathroom ended up on top of her clothes.

  The weight of the duffel bag actually made her sway when she hauled the strap over her shoulder. Grinning, excited at the prospect of staying somewhere new, she vacated the room and descended the stairs.

  An amused look crossed Sebastian's face when he saw her with the obviously loaded bag and came over to meet her at the bottom step. “Here, let me take that.”

  And so Laurel handed it over. His amusement turned into a quiet laugh when he felt the full weight of the duffel. He handled it like it was nothing, however, and Laurel spent a moment appreciating his strength, sharing smiles and humored glances on their way to the door. He opened it for her, bracing the wood with an arm, and she stepped out onto the porch.

  “Thanks,” she said, wishing she had thought to bring a coat. It felt like snow on the air and her skin prickled with goosebumps.

  The limousine's engine purred to life at their appearance and the driver got out to open their door. Shocked at the mode of transportation, Laurel glanced up at Sebastian to find him regarding her with an enigmatic look. Maybe he'd guessed she wasn't used to such luxury.

  "My lady," he said, gesturing to the car.

  She laughed and after Sebastian handed her bag off to the driver, she slid inside. It was her first time in a limousine, and it was as plush as she'd always imagined them to be. It smelled new, expensive.

  Sebastian sat beside her after donning his double layer of coats and they were off.

  The city eventually gave way to countryside, buildings replaced by open meadows and dark stands of forest. A silvery moon illuminated the landscape.

  Twenty minutes later, Laurel caught sight of an enormous house--it wasn't a house, it was a mansion--outside her window. She admired it in silence, and then gasped in stunned surprise when the driver pulled them up to a gate leading in to the property.

  Eyes wide, she glanced across the seat at Sebastian. "You live here?"

  "Do you like it?" he asked, amused.

  "Like it? I've never been in a house that big! It's beautiful."

  He laughed and helped her from the limousine when it stopped in front of the steps.

  Laurel was taken aback. Several acres of manicured lawns and hedges led up to the stately home that looked formidable and old but well cared for. Tall windows and a wealth of baroque architecture added an appealing, regal flare. Made of gray stone, the two-story manor rose majestically against the night. It was a home fit for kings.

  "I've never seen anything like it," she said, one hand over her heart.

  Grinning, Sebastian led her up the steps to the front doors, which opened by a uniformed butler's hand.

  "Welcome to my home," Sebastian said, murmuring close to her ear.

  Bernard, somewhat portly with silver hair, greeted them with a precise bow. "Your Grace, Miss."

  Laurel couldn’t decide whether to be more stunned by the butler calling Sebastian Your Grace or the glittering, classy foyer they stepped into. Marble floors, polished to a high shine, led off in several directions.

  "Hello, Bernard," she said, attention scattering everywhere at once. From another hall, an elegant, dark-haired, dark eyed woman appeared. They made eye contact just as Sebastian began introductions.

  “Laurel, this is my step-sister, Isabella.”

  “Welcome, Laurel,” Isabella said with a faint smile.

  “Nice to meet you, Isabella.” Laurel caught herself before she could step forward and offer her hand. Some inner voice cautioned her against it, though she wasn't sure what for. Isabella seemed self-contained and polite. Still, Laurel only added a smile onto the greeting.

  “I thought I would give Laurel a tour of the house after dinner,” Sebastian said to Isabella while he offered Laurel his elbow.

  Laurel saw the look they exchanged but couldn't read the meaning of it from either of them. She slipped her fingers under the crook of his arm, a familiar habit by now.

  Isabella inclined her head. “I hope you enjoy your visit. I have a conservatory on the grounds. Feel free to explore it if you have time.”

  “Thank you.” Laurel's natural enthusiasm was in high gear.

  While Isabella disappeared deeper into the home, Sebastian handed Bernard his topcoat and jacket that he had removed while the women greeted each other. “Have dinner brought to the parlor and have Miss Mayfield's bag taken to a spare room.”

  “Very good, my lord,” Bernard said, bowing just his head before marching off to see to his duties.

  Sebastian led her into a formal looking parlor with a fireplace, already blazing, that stood as tall as herself. Furniture in appealing fabric and design decorated the space along with a glossy black piano si
tuated in the back of the room. He released her to pour a glass of wine from a side table and offered it with a subtle smile.

  “Allow me a few minutes to see to my business? I'll be back before dinner arrives.”

  “Of course.” Laurel accepted the glass and followed him from the room with her eyes. There was more than enough to keep her occupied in his absence. Beautiful paintings lined the walls and a handful of collectibles on the mantle drew her interest. She was no expert, but she thought the art pieces were originals.

  Bernard came in and out, setting up a small table before the fire. Silver shined next to fragile looking china and a pair of candles, one shorter than the other, decorated the center. Amazed, Laurel watched but didn't interrupt.

  Within minutes, Sebastian strolled into the room, a tall, green-eyed man at his side. They exchanged final, quiet words between them and then Sebastian clapped Caleb on the shoulder.

  “Laurel, I'd like you to meet Caleb. He is a business acquaintance.”

  She glanced over with a smile in place. For a moment, she had the same sensation with him that she'd had with Isabella. Nothing she could pinpoint, but it kept her from offering her hand. “Hello, nice to meet you, Caleb.”

  “Laurel. Likewise.” He met and held her gaze for a few seconds longer than usual before excusing himself.

  “I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” Sebastian said when Caleb was gone, ushering her to the table.

  “Not at all. This house is amazing and I've only seen one room.” She smiled when he rumbled a low laugh and settled into the chair he held.

  “I'm rather fond of it,” he confessed and sat across from her.

  Dinner arrived in short order and the food was as excellent as the company. They spoke at length about a variety of subjects ranging from politics to farming to New York, and lingered over glasses of red wine when Laurel admitted she couldn't eat another bite. Sebastian didn't seem to have much of an appetite and took his liquor in small draughts. It mattered little when he seemed to be having such a good time. A refined conversationalist, he spoke with knowledge on anything she cared to bring up, even mazes, which she confessed a love for. He led her from the parlor to a set of arched windows overlooking the back of his property and the large hedge maze she could just make out in the darkness.