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Authors: Lynne Graham
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bathroom door, cast it open only a few inches, for he did not yet trust himself to look her in the eye without betraying the sheer rage still powering him. ‘I’ll see you for breakfast downstairs…’
Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
H AVING stolen one of Sebasten’s shirts from a unit in the dressing room to cover her halter top, Lizzie descended the stairs in hopeful search of a dining room. She was a bag of nerves, her heart banging against her ribs.
Sebasten had not even waited for her to emerge from the bathroom and he had sounded so cold and distant when he had said that he would see her downstairs. After the night they had shared, it was not the way she had naively expected him to greet her and now she was wondering in stricken embarrassment if he was eager just to get her out of his house. Perhaps only some refined form of good breeding had urged him to offer breakfast at noon.
One look and I was hooked…wasn’t that what Sebasten had told her the night before? For an instant, she hugged that recollection to her and straightened her taut shoulders. But then maybe that had only been the sort of thing the average male said when things got as far as the bedroom. When she had no other man to compare him with, how would she know? Furthermore, he wasn’t the average male, was he? Lizzie stole an uneasy glance at the oil paintings and the magnificent antique collector’s cabinet in the huge hall. Everywhere she looked, she was seeing further signs of the kind of stratospheric wealth that could be rather intimidating.
A manservant appeared from the rear of the hall and opened a door into a formal dining-room, where Sebasten was seated at the end of a long polished dining-table. Colliding unwarily with veiled dark golden eyes as he rose upright with the kind of exquisite manners that she was unused to meeting with, she felt a tide of colour warm her pale complexion, and broke straight into nervous speech. ‘I pinched one of your shirts. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘I should have sent out for some clothes for you,’ Sebasten countered, throwing her into a bewildered loop with that assurance and then the unsettling suspicion that he brought a different woman home at least three times a week. ‘My apologies.’
As the unfamiliar intimate ache at the heart of her tense body reminded her of just how passionate and demanding a lover Sebasten was, Lizzie dragged her tense gaze from his in awful embarrassment and sank down fast into a seat.
Sebasten was very tempted to give her a round of applause for her performance. The blushing show of discomfiture was presumably aimed at convincing him that she had never before spent a night with a man and faced him the next morning.
‘I have an apartment you can use,’ he murmured evenly.
Startled by that sudden offer of accommodation, Lizzie glanced up. ‘Oh…I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I can’t bear to think of you being homeless,’ Sebasten quipped.
‘Well, I won’t be after I’ve found somewhere of my own, which I intend to do today,’ Lizzie hastened to add, grateful for the distraction of the food being presented to her by the manservant.
‘It’s not that easy to find decent accommodation in London,’ Sebasten countered.
‘I’ll manage. Thousands do and so will I. In fact, I’m looking forward to proving to my father that I can look after myself,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I did offer to leave home after Dad remarried but he wouldn’t hear of it. He had a self-contained flat built in the stable block at the back of the house for me.’
Settling back in his antique rosewood carver chair, Sebasten cradled his black coffee in one lean brown hand and surveyed her with a frown-line dividing his level ebony brows. ‘I can’t understand why the indulgent father you describe should suddenly go to the other extreme and practically throw you out of your home.’
Visibly, Lizzie lost colour and after some hesitation said, ‘Dad thinks he’s spoilt me
Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
H AVING stolen one of Sebasten’s shirts from a unit in the dressing room to cover her halter top, Lizzie descended the stairs in hopeful search of a dining room. She was a bag of nerves, her heart banging against her ribs.
Sebasten had not even waited for her to emerge from the bathroom and he had sounded so cold and distant when he had said that he would see her downstairs. After the night they had shared, it was not the way she had naively expected him to greet her and now she was wondering in stricken embarrassment if he was eager just to get her out of his house. Perhaps only some refined form of good breeding had urged him to offer breakfast at noon.
One look and I was hooked…wasn’t that what Sebasten had told her the night before? For an instant, she hugged that recollection to her and straightened her taut shoulders. But then maybe that had only been the sort of thing the average male said when things got as far as the bedroom. When she had no other man to compare him with, how would she know? Furthermore, he wasn’t the average male, was he? Lizzie stole an uneasy glance at the oil paintings and the magnificent antique collector’s cabinet in the huge hall. Everywhere she looked, she was seeing further signs of the kind of stratospheric wealth that could be rather intimidating.
A manservant appeared from the rear of the hall and opened a door into a formal dining-room, where Sebasten was seated at the end of a long polished dining-table. Colliding unwarily with veiled dark golden eyes as he rose upright with the kind of exquisite manners that she was unused to meeting with, she felt a tide of colour warm her pale complexion, and broke straight into nervous speech. ‘I pinched one of your shirts. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘I should have sent out for some clothes for you,’ Sebasten countered, throwing her into a bewildered loop with that assurance and then the unsettling suspicion that he brought a different woman home at least three times a week. ‘My apologies.’
As the unfamiliar intimate ache at the heart of her tense body reminded her of just how passionate and demanding a lover Sebasten was, Lizzie dragged her tense gaze from his in awful embarrassment and sank down fast into a seat.
Sebasten was very tempted to give her a round of applause for her performance. The blushing show of discomfiture was presumably aimed at convincing him that she had never before spent a night with a man and faced him the next morning.
‘I have an apartment you can use,’ he murmured evenly.
Startled by that sudden offer of accommodation, Lizzie glanced up. ‘Oh…I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I can’t bear to think of you being homeless,’ Sebasten quipped.
‘Well, I won’t be after I’ve found somewhere of my own, which I intend to do today,’ Lizzie hastened to add, grateful for the distraction of the food being presented to her by the manservant.
‘It’s not that easy to find decent accommodation in London,’ Sebasten countered.
‘I’ll manage. Thousands do and so will I. In fact, I’m looking forward to proving to my father that I can look after myself,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I did offer to leave home after Dad remarried but he wouldn’t hear of it. He had a self-contained flat built in the stable block at the back of the house for me.’
Settling back in his antique rosewood carver chair, Sebasten cradled his black coffee in one lean brown hand and surveyed her with a frown-line dividing his level ebony brows. ‘I can’t understand why the indulgent father you describe should suddenly go to the other extreme and practically throw you out of your home.’
Visibly, Lizzie lost colour and after some hesitation said, ‘Dad thinks he’s spoilt me
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