He must have sensed her presence, for he turned, an uncharacteristic look of shock on his handsome face.
Victoria refused to allow him to see that he’d caught her off guard as well. Instead she stepped closer, noticing the way he clamped a wet hand over his bunched-up white shirt.
“And here I was planning to tear the city apart looking for you, when all I had to do was wait for you to show up. What are you doing here, Sebastian?”
Thirteen
In Which Our Heroine Divests a Gentleman of an Article of Clothing
A chagrined expression flashed over Sebastian’s face for an instant, then was masked. He stepped away from the fountain, his wet hand making a print on his light shirt. She noticed a dark coat hanging over a nearby chair.
“You returned much sooner than I anticipated,” he said, recovering quickly to summon a teasing smile. “I should perhaps have waited a bit longer before coming down here…but I can’t say that I’m terribly disappointed to have you alone at last. After all, last night in the dungeon with Maximilian was hardly—”
“Give me an answer, Sebastian.” Victoria’s heart was pounding, panic replacing bald shock as she realized what this must mean. Her mouth had dried; she felt it shrivel like a pea in the sun. Her fingers were shaking, and nausea curled in her belly. How could it be? “Tell me you didn’t bring your grandfather,” she said in a voice that didn’t belong to her, even as she tried to assimilate what Sebastian’s presence meant. He couldn’t have done.
The Consilium, the safe, secret sanctuary, had been found.
No. Not under her watch. Not after almost two millennia of secrecy.
No.
Victoria felt fear and anger—emotions she’d struggled to keep out of her mind—envelop her, clouding clear thought as she started to dash past Sebastian, desperate to get to the secret storage chamber—and to Wayren’s library—before they could be despoiled.
His teasing smile faded. “I’m here alone.” His voice, urgent and low, stopped her. “I wouldn’t—”
The panic eased enough for her voice to be steady when she snapped, “You wouldn’t what? Infiltrate our sanctuary? How did you find out about this place? How?”
But no, of course Beauregard wasn’t here, she realized belatedly, her mind beginning to function again. She would have sensed him the moment she came into Santo Quirinus. That, at least, was good.
Sebastian was staring at her, his eyes shadowed by the dim light glowing behind tawny curls that made him look so absurdly holy. He seemed to be studying her, waiting for her to speak.
His chest rose and fell easily, but the tension that skittered between them made Victoria restless and unwilling to play the game of silence. “Answer me, Sebastian. At least tell me how you learned of this place, and how it is on my guard that you’ve found us.”
He stepped toward her. “Never fear, ma chère. Your secret shall remain safe with me. I’ve known of these chambers for a rather long time, and I’ve told no one yet.”
A lopsided smile tilted his lips as he reached for her shoulder, skimming his knuckles over her collarbone and then drifting his fingers loosely around the nape of her neck. “Don’t you yet know that I’d do nothing to endanger you? Now, since we are here together and unlikely to be interrupted, there are other activities we might find to divert ourselves. Ones that I, at least, have missed greatly.” His smile, slow and sensual, mirrored the look in his eyes, a look she’d seen more than once before. Despite her anger and confusion, the desire in his gaze had its effect on her, sending flutters through her belly. “After all…you sought me out, Victoria.”
“It was a necessity, Sebastian.”
“Then perhaps you might wish to tell me what was so necessary that you had to kiss my grandfather in order to send the message?” These last words came out sharply.
Victoria shoved his hand away before it closed over her shoulder. “Don’t try to play the jealous lover, Sebastian. It rings a false note. And the reason I needed to speak to you is in regard to something of my aunt’s. You must have seen her…seen her…” Blast. Her voice was rough, and her eyes began to tingle with tears. “You sent me her vis bulla. But there was a bracelet she wore, an armband. It’s very important. Did you see it…when…”
“Silver? Wide at the top of her arm?” he asked. “Yes, I took it also. It was the only jewelry she wore, and the only other thing I could do for her.”
“Where is it? What did you do with it?”
“I didn’t realize it was important to you. It’s…I put it here to be safe from…behind Catherine Gardella’s portrait. Apparently she liked jewelry.”
A wave of relief, followed by annoyance, rushed over Victoria. “But why didn’t you send it to me when you sent the vis bulla?”
His eyes flickered away, then came back to hers with a hint of chagrin in their expression. “I…ah…didn’t think it would have quite the same…flair,” he said with a discomfited expression, “to send both. The vis…well, it was more intimate.” He quirked a smile.
Then, shrugging off whatever bit of discomposure he’d had, Sebastian reached for her again, and this time he caught her upper arms with both hands. “Besides…what if I needed a reason to contact you again?” he murmured as he pulled her close enough that her skirt swished against his trousers. “I’m not one to leave all my cards on the table.”
His grip was strong, surprisingly strong. Victoria was tempted to twist away and send him sprawling to the stone floor, perhaps clipping his head on a table on the way down—but at the same time, looking up into his face, she found herself focused on his mouth. It was close, and she well remembered how it felt sliding and fitting sensually to hers. Warm and mobile, slick and coaxing.
Perhaps it would be prudent to put him off guard. Prudent and enjoyable…and then she could change the subject back to a more pertinent one.
But apparently, for once Sebastian had other ideas; for he sobered, the flirtatiousness fading from his face, as if he’d just recalled something important. “Victoria, you must take care. He’s made it clear that he wants you for himself,” he said, maintaining the distance between them…yet looking at any moment like he might change his mind.
At first Victoria didn’t know who he meant. She looked away from his lips and their eyes met.
“Beauregard,” Sebastian said, his voice tight and without its normal light edge. “I’m speaking of Beauregard. Although from what I understand, you’ve wasted no time in finding other, less dangerous men to amuse you, such as that redheaded Scot.”
Now she shoved hard at his solid chest, and he released her, stumbling back a step but easily remaining on his feet. “You are playing the jealous lover. How can that be, Sebastian, when you’ve been no lover at all these past months? When, in fact, our attachment was of the briefest kind?”
His expression changed, the annoyance easing into a knowing smile. “So you have missed me.” Triumph colored his amber eyes, and he reached for her a third time.
This time she let him bring her so that their bodies were flush: breast to chest, thigh to thigh, feet mingling. Her skin warmed, the flush traveling from her face down to her neck and beyond. It was good to touch him again, to feel the warmth of a man’s body and the strength of his arms about her.
“Hardly.” They both knew she was lying.
She shouldn’t have missed him—she couldn’t trust him, for his loyalty was to Beauregard—but she had missed him, and she did trust him…after a fashion. It wasn’t as if he could replace Phillip and the love and regard they’d had for so brief a time, but she was human.
And she was a woman. A woman who’d grown up cuddled and petted by Melly and her two friends, a woman who liked to be touched, who enjoyed being reminded that she was desirable, and who had made choices that kept her outside normal societal conventions so that she was a lonely outcast.