"Of course it isn't." Arabella made the reply automatically. Dear G.o.d, what had she been thinking? To allow Justin to kiss her in that hot, consuming way that made her feel as if she were melting? Not only that, but to allow him to bare her breast. Her flesh had seemed to swell and burn; she'd wanted to feel his fingers, there on the very tip*

"Arabella?"

It was clear from Georgiana's expression it wasn't her first attempt to snare her attention.

Georgiana searched her face. "I asked what it was like."

"What?" Arabella said faintly.

"You know," Georgiana blurted. "Being kissed!"

Being kissed? Or being kissed by Justin Sterling? For Arabella had the very distinct sensation that being kissed by any other man would not have been at all the same as being kissed by Justin. For Justin's kiss had been wonder and magic. Bliss and* Georgiana clapped her hands to her cheeks in horror. "Oh. Oh!" she cried. "I cannot believe I asked you that! Oh, do forgive me, Arabella!"

Surprisingly, Arabella laughed. Georgiana did as well, and Arabella walked her to the door a few minutes later. There Georgiana gave her a quick, fierce hug.

"Do not fret, Arabella. Whatever happens tomorrow morning, it will be for the best. I just know it."

Arabella's eyes softened. She bade her friend good night, closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. If only she could be as certain as Georgiana*

What was it Justin had said to Sebastian? A regrettable incident, he'd called it. An odd little ache pierced her heart. What was it he regretted? That he'd kissed her? Or that they had been caught?

She had no answer. And suddenly she wasn't sure she wanted an answer.

What was done was done. It was too late to change it. As for tomorrow, all she could do was hope that Georgiana was right*that all would turn out for the best.

Not so very much later, in another part of the house, Justin had just closed the draperies in his room when a knock sounded on the door. He opened it to find Sebastian on the threshold. In his hands was a tray topped with a bottle and two finely etched crystal gla.s.ses.

Justin opened the door wider and gestured Sebastian inside. "Let me guess," he drawled. "You've come to dispense advice."

Sebastian slid the tray onto the table nested between two chairs that flanked the fireplace. "Not advice per se. But I thought you might like to talk."

Rolling his eyes, Justin settled himself in one of the chairs. "I can do without either, but I won't say no to the brandy."

Sebastian chuckled. "I thought not. It's your favorite - and my finest."

Tugging off his cravat, Justin tossed it aside, watching as Sebastian tipped the neck of the bottle into each of the gla.s.ses, pouring a generous portion into each. Sebastian handed one to Justin, then settled back in his chair.

Justin drained it in one swallow, balanced the empty gla.s.s on his knee, and glanced at his brother. "I suppose now is when you intend to inquire as to my intentions tomorrow."

"I would not presume to tell you what to do," Sebastian responded politely, "though I must say" - he c.o.c.ked his head toward the window - "there is something about that terrace, a moonlit night*and the right woman, isn't there?"

Justin groaned. "Christ, now you're beginning to sound like the d.u.c.h.ess."

Sebastian's mouth quirked. "And my wife," he added.

"I suppose you find this vastly amusing, don't you?" Scowling, Justin held out his empty gla.s.s.

Sebastian obliged him by refilling it. "Not at all."

Justin stared into the liquid. "I lost my head," he muttered. "I have no one to blame but myself."

"Unfortunately, this is not a matter that can be tossed aside. For I suspect that Arabella is not a woman of the world, shall we say."

"She is not," Justin admitted.

"Add to that the fact that the Burwells are a well-respected family."

Justin grimaced. "Must you always be so logical?"

Sebastian shrugged. "The way I see it, you either marry her or you do not. It's as simple as that, really."

It's not simple at all! Justin nearly argued.

"But if you aren't of a mind to marry her," Sebastian added cheerfully, "I suppose it won't be long before someone does. I hear she's had three offers already."

It wasn't three, it was four! Justin bit back the words and instead sent Sebastian a withering stare.

He clenched his teeth. G.o.ddammit, he didn't like having his hand forced. What man would? But it was just as he'd told Sebastian. He'd lost his head. And he could be no less than honest with himself! In that moment, in the moonlight, with the darkness swirling all around, no power on earth could have stopped him from taking Arabella in his arms. From bending his head to hers and kissing lips so temptingly sweet and soft. From tasting*and touching*And if Grace and Georgiana hadn't come upon them, he would have gone on kissing her. He would have gone on touching her, not wanting to stop, unable to stop*

He took a burning swallow of brandy. "Sebastian." He spoke without meeting his brother's eyes, his tone very low. "What if I hurt her?"

"You can't think like that," Sebastian said sternly.

Justin gave a shake of his head. "I can't help it. Sebastian, I*" He fell silent, his mind whirling. He hesitated, battling an unfamiliar uncertainty inside.

Something flickered in Sebastian's eyes. "You're thinking about Father, aren't you?" he said quietly.

"Yes." The word almost choked him. He should tell Sebastian, he realized. Dear G.o.d, wasn't it time Sebastian knew that he - Justin - had killed their father? Something dark and bleak began to seep through him. An acrid bitterness seared his being, and the words refused to come.

"Whatever it is you're thinking," Sebastian observed with soft deliberation, "don't. Father and Mother created their own h.e.l.l. It had nothing to do with us. Surely you know that."

It had nothing to do with us. Something twisted inside him. What if Sebastian was wrong? What if it did?

"Sebastian," he said tonelessly. "Didn't you ever wonder*if Mother*if Father*if we, the three of us - you, Julianna, and I-" His jaw tensed. "Oh, h.e.l.l. h.e.l.l. Forget it. Forget I said anything."

Sebastian gave him a long, slow look. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, Justin, we can't undo it, any of it. When we were young, there were days I prefer to forget, days I'll never forget. But when I think of our childhood, the one thing that stands out in my mind is this. We were lucky, the three of us, to have each other." He smiled slightly. "The past is over and done. It's time to look to the future. Your future. You deserve to be happy, Justin. Don't you know that yet?"

Justin's throat felt scratchy. "And what of Julianna? She deserves happiness, too. And for all that she claims she is, I wonder if it's really true."

A shadow slipped over Sebastian's features. "I know," he murmured.

Justin's face went hard. "When I think of what that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Thomas did to her*I wish I'd called him out-"

"That wouldn't have solved a thing," Sebastian reminded him. "But I'm quite aware of what you mean. Still, I have to believe that happiness will come to her, too, Justin. There are times we must trust in a power greater than our own."

Justin raised a brow. "Your patience never ceases to amaze me."

Sebastian chuckled. "If my wife were here, I think she'd dispute such a notion completely." He got to his feet and reached for the tray.

Justin immediately raised his now-empty gla.s.s. "Leave the bottle!" he advised.

Sebastian laughed. "Careful, brother. If you're not in my study at seven sharp, I'm quite certain Joseph won't be inclined to generosity. And I don't particularly relish the thought of standing in as your second."

It wouldn't come to that, Justin decided, watching the door close. Whatever he was, whatever he had been, he couldn't...wouldn't*embarra.s.s Arabella further.

Not only that, but Sebastian was right. If he didn't marry her, someone else would. And the prospect of Arabella with another man was*well, unthinkable, really.

Marriage, he thought, turning the word over in his mind. Marriage.

He was petrified, he realized. And yet, she sparked afire inside him, in his blood, in his very soul. His awareness of her was ever-present. Her scent. Her heat. He could not be near her without longing to touch her the way he had tonight. He wanted more.

From the night he'd first seen her at the Farthingale ball, not one day had gone by that he hadn't thought of her. Wanted to be with her, the way he had tonight. He wanted to make her his, make her belong to him, feel her softness yield beneath him. The very thought of being with her like that - the way he wanted - brought the blood rising beneath his skin. But how long would it last?

Faithfulness and fidelity*was it any wonder he was terrified? He had little experience with such virtues - with any virtue! There had been no reason. And he wasn't Sebastian. He was like hismother. His mother*

But he couldn't bear the thought of hurting Arabella. By G.o.d, he could not.

His desire was real, he reminded himself. He craved Arabella with every fiber of his soul. Her love was beyond his reach. He must be practical, he reiterated. Arabella would never love a rogue like him. But if he could not have love, he could have desire and pa.s.sion, and by G.o.d, it would have to do.

And with that realization came the answer he sought, and some semblance of peace. Justin knew, without question, precisely what he must do.

Fourteen.

At five minutes before the hour of seven the next morning, Arabella, Aunt Grace, and Uncle Joseph were ensconced in Sebastian's study. A black pall hung in the air. Arabella sat on the edge of a chair, her hands clasped in her lap. Aunt Grace and Uncle Joseph sat on the sofa opposite her. Uncle Joseph was stiff-lipped and stoic. It wasn't his way to bl.u.s.ter and rage - she almost wished he would! And Aunt Grace*her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She'd been weeping.

And all because of her.

The door opened. Justin strode inside. He seated himself in the wing chair next to Arabella's.

Uncle Joseph wasted no time in niceties. He addressed himself to Justin. "In the absence of Arabella's parents, her aunt and I stand in their place. And it seems we have a dilemma on our hands."

Arabella leaned forward. "Uncle, Georgiana won't say anything. She's my friend -"

"Whether she will or will not is of no consequence!" Uncle Joseph's tone was blistering. "I know, Arabella. Your aunt knows! This is not one of your petty childhood pranks, to be dismissed and swept under the rug."

Beside her, Justin spoke. "This wasn't her fault, my lord. The blame is entirely mine," he stated bluntly. "I seduced her."

Arabella's eyes flew wide. "What!" she cried. "But you -"

"Hush!" Both Justin and Uncle Joseph thundered at the same time.

Chastened, subdued, Arabella sank back in her chair. Her gaze slid to Justin. He appeared totally calm and unruffled.

Uncle Joseph transferred his burning regard to Justin. "My niece has been compromised by you, sir." Uncle Joseph's fingers rapped on the arm of the sofa. "I demand satisfaction."

Justin inclined his head. "And you shall have it, my lord."

Arabella made a faint, choked sound in her throat. No, she thought wildly. Surely not a duel* "I have dishonored your niece and damaged her reputation irreparably. Clearly, there is only one thing to be done. Therefore, I will marry her."

Uncle Joseph's tone was hard. "It had best be soon, for I warn you, I'll brook no delays."

Arabella's mouth opened and closed. The two of them were talking as if she weren't even present. Either she was going mad, or they were. Her heart was hammering so that she could scarcely think. So many emotions were roiling through her breast, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't even speak.

And did her ears play her false? Surely it was so. Surely Justin hadn't just said*

"I'll see that a special license is obtained, my lord. Your niece and I will be wed as soon as it can be arranged."

Stunned, she watched helplessly as the two men rose and shook hands.

By afternoon, everyone at the house party knew of the betrothal. When presented with the news, Devon promptly threw her arms around Arabella. "Oh, I knew it! I just knew you were the one."

Sebastian was less effusive, bowing over her hand, but there was a warm twinkle in his gray eyes. "I'm glad it's you," he said simply.

Throughout the congratulations, Justin merely smiled, but said very little. Arabella's heart sank like a stone. She promptly berated herself. It wasn't as if he were in love with her. Dear G.o.d, at times she wondered if he even liked her! What foolishness was this, that she expected him to act as if he were smitten?

With profuse apologies, the Burwells headed back to London at once - to see to the wedding preparations, as Aunt Grace declared. To Arabella, it all seemed like a dream. As if she saw everything from a place outside herself.

Two days later, Uncle Joseph informed her the license had been procured. The ceremony was set for three days hence.

Even then it didn't seem real.

The day before the wedding, Arabella sat in the salon, her mind whirling. Her aunt was out seeing to the flowers she'd ordered. Indeed, she thought numbly, Aunt Grace was the only one excited about the upcoming nuptials. The tea she'd poured sat on the tray, cold and untouched. It was difficult to believe that only a week earlier, they had arrived at Thurston Hall*

There was a light rap on the door. It was Ames, the butler. "Miss, you have a caller."

"I'd rather not see anyone, Ames."

He was unusually insistent. "You may wish to reconsider, miss."

Arabella sighed. "Ames, please -"

"It's your fiance, miss."

Fiance. Her mouth went dry. Never in the world had she dreamed Justin would be called that. Her heart was suddenly crashing wildly about her chest, while her mind had gone completely still.

"Miss?" inquired Ames. "If you wish, I can tell him you're indisposed."

It spun through her mind that that probably wouldn't work with Justin. He'd probably barge his way inside anyway.

She took a deep, cleansing breath. "Please show him in, Ames."