She couldn’t bear the thought of any of it. Of losing her family, her home, her future. All over a silly mistake, a moment of clumsiness twisted into something sordid by the gossiping tongues of the ton. Hot tears burned beneath her eyelids and she hurried back to her bedchamber, her heart racing wildly.
Once again, she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin—as though they could shield her from the uncertainty of what would come.
As much as she tried, Caroline couldn’t sleep. Her mind was too full of worries to find rest. For hours, she tossed and turned, the haughty faces of the matrons at the ball staring at her even from the depths of her imagination. The only reprieve from the judgmental stares, were the relentless ways she attempted to rewrite what had happened.
If only she hadn’t gone outside for air. If only she had been more careful with her dress, her footing. If only someone, anyone, would believe her when she told them the truth.
The sun was already starting to rise, when Caroline finally drifted into a fitful sleep—her dreams permeated by images of Sebastian.
In her dream, rather than remaining the perfect gentleman, Sebastian backed her up against a wall—his frame crowding into her personal space until she could feel the heat radiating off his body. His piercing green eyes burned into hers, dark with unspoken desire.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growled, his voice low. “How much I want to touch you, taste you…”
Caroline felt her pulse thundering wildly, her body responding to his proximity with a fierce ache that pooled low in her belly.
Sebastian's large hands skimmed down her sides, his touch leaving trails of fire even through the fabric of her dress. He gripped her hips, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his body. Caroline gasped at the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against her soft curves.
“I can't resist you any longer,” Sebastian rasped, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Propriety be damned. I need to have you, all of you.”
His mouth crashed down on hers in a searing kiss, consuming her with a passion that stole her breath and made her knees weak.
Just as Sebastian's hand had started to bunch up the skirts of her dress, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her thigh and making her tremble with want, Caroline jolted awake—her body still thrumming with the remnants of the dream.
She sat up slowly, pressing a shaky hand to her flushed cheek. Her heart raced and her skin tingled, the ache between her thighs more insistent than ever before. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the lingering images of Sebastian’s heated gaze and phantom touch.
It was wrong, she knew, to entertain such scandalous fantasies about her sister’s betrothed. But as Caroline rose on unsteady legs to face the day, she couldn't help the small, secret part of her that wished the dream had been real.
Chapter 6
Had Caroline known that she was not the only one who struggled to sleep, perhaps she may have felt comforted. For Sebastian too, struggled to sleep—his mind reeling with the ridiculousness of the situation and the small fire of attraction he’d felt deep in his belly when he’d held Caroline close to him. For a large part of the evening, he managed to avoid his father—though he made his way to the study eventually, facing the thin man behind the desk hesitantly.
Fitzgerald Fairchild looked up at his son, and immediately a frown appeared between his brows.
“Why do you have that look about you?”
Sebastian sighed deeply. He was not at all surprised by his father’s words. In fact, he struggled to remember a time that they had not misunderstood one another.
“There may be a slight problem,” he got out at last. Fitzgerald let out a deep sigh at this and he shook his head—already disappointed.
“Now what did you do?”
Sebastian moved to sit down across from his father and sighed. “There was a misunderstanding…” he started, and Fitzgerald shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You promised, Sebastian,” he said slowly. “You promised that you’d be on your best behavior until the wedding.”
Sebastian closed his eyes and released a deep breath. He had hoped that the situation could be contained—after all, the truth was that he had merely helped a damsel in distress. She explained the truth immediately too—and a small, naive part of him was foolish enough to hope that it would be enough.
Of course it wasn’t. The gossip had started the second she had left with her parents. Of course the more scandalous turn of events was the version people chose to believe.
Sebastian frowned now too. It was understandable that the ton believe the gossip fodder, entertain the notion of a scandal as they had. It would have been great if his father was not so quick to believe the worst of him too.
“If you could let me explain,” he burst out irritably, and Fitzgerald scowled down at his son.
“Oh, let you explain, of course. Of course there is an explanation! Well, then… let me hear it. What is it this time, Sebastian?”
Even before he spoke, Sebastian could tell that his father was not inclined to believe him. The way he looked at him, the narrowed eyes, the pursed lips…
“She fell,” Sebastian explained clumsily, “Caroline, I mean. We were both outside—separately—and she fell and…”
