The Seduction of Sebastian St. James
House of Renwick Book Two

Excerpt

Miss Emma Gates loved to dance. Not that she would ever share this private information with anyone but her dear sister, who was easily bribed and young enough not to care. No. A lady was entitled to her secrets and this was one of hers.
It wasn’t just any kind of dancing she was fond of. No, because dancing with the gentry was quite acceptable for a girl getting ready for her come out. The dancing she enjoyed was more passion-filled than waltzing, although she had to admit waltzing was another favorite.
For some time, she had been practicing the dance of the gypsies. In her heart she knew it was wrong to spy. But every so often a traveling gypsy family would be allowed to stay near their large estate.
One night a few months ago, Emma had been absolutely dying with curiosity as she heard the foreign music glide through her windows. Carefully, she rose from her bed and tiptoed to her door. Looking out the hallway, she took a steadying breathe and made the decision to sneak out of the house. Always accused of being too inquisitive and adventurous for her own good, Emma had told herself this would be the last time she would do something rash before her come out this Season.
Nearing the campground, fire light glowed in the distance. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched in utter fascination as the bronze-colored girls danced with jewelry trilling on their ankles and hands, swishing their fingers this way and that.
It was powerful and fascinating.
Men were captivated, drawn in by the sensual sway of their hips and promise of desire in their eyes. How could they not be? There was something so alluring about the way the gypsies danced, as if they held some secret nobody else in the world knew about. Men weren’t just full of desire for the women, though she could see plenty of that in the way their gazes seemed to follow every sway of the gypsies’ hips. The way the gypsies danced transported Emma and all those who watched to a place of mystery and enticement.
It made her wonder what it would be like to be able to deliver a siren call without speaking at all. To communicate without words. The gypsies’ music spoke to her like nothing else. The idea that she could express her deepest desires through such movements had her bewitched.
The first night she had been too nervous to show herself to the crowd, worried someone might recognize her and tell her parents.
The second night she had ventured out and sat near the edge of the campground.
And the third night, a young girl had approached and offered to teach her, asking for nothing in payment, merely the enjoyment of seeing Emma learn something she obviously found so much delight in.
Emma had been dancing ever since.
She promised herself she would quit once she had a Season, but the temptation was too great. Soon after she made the decision to stop, her fingers and legs would twitch with excitement, begging to be set free by the dance of the gypsies.
Life had a way of making more sense when she could dance. The troubles of the world, of her current betrothal seemed to melt away with the sway of her hips.
Being betrothed was another reason for her current fascination with all things adventurous and forbidden. Her life was over before it started. The man she was betrothed to was a good man, if one could call him a man. At one and twenty he was two years her senior and in a terrible state to be a husband. Having only just finished at University, his only goal in life was to warm the beds of courtesans and gamble away his inheritance. With striking features and a rakish grin, he could easily get away with all seven of the deadly sins and come out unscathed.
So in one last fit of going against the demands of society and her parents, she snuck away to dance. It was the last night before they were to leave for London. After all, the Season would start soon, and although she was betrothed, her parents wanted her to attend. They hoped she would gain some friends, considering most her time would now be spent in London, once the wedding was completed. Not wanting to take any chances of getting caught, she would often practice in the small hunters lodge next to the stream. It was only a mile from her house, close enough for her to feel safe but far enough away she felt she wouldn’t be discovered.
Laughter bubbled out of her as she reached the cabin and slammed the door behind her. The air was charged with excitement. Emma made sure to lock the large wooden door, as was tradition, and then turned to start the fire.
After lighting the nearest lamp, she began swaying her hips. The rhythm started slow and sensual as she lifted her arms above her head and snapped her wrists. And as her hips continued to sway, she allowed her hands to twist and turn, convulsing her body into the familiar rhythm taught to her by her Romany friend.
A loud thump jolted her out of her haze.
She shrieked as a cloaked figure walked toward her.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
His voice sounded gentry. Too much like a gentleman, but there were no gentleman in the area she knew of, other than her betrothed and his family.
She swallowed and slowly walked backward toward the locked door, her mind a jumble of ways she could escape without the man grabbing her. How could she have been so stupid to come out her alone? Yet she had done so for the past two months without disturbance.
“Aw, my pet, do not run away from me just yet. I have something special planned for you.”
“No thank you.” Her voice was weak. Quickly, she turned the notch to unlock the door, but the man's hands pushed her against the wooden frame.
“Oh, you won’t be leaving. There is no way out.”
He slammed her body into the door and began rustling with her skirts.
This was not happening; it could not be happening.
She tried to scream but was immediately silenced by his large hand.
The other hand continued to frantically grab at her skirts. She kicked him in the shin and tried for the door again.
“Okay, pet, now you’ve made me angry.”
With a guttural growl, he ripped open her dress, revealing her bodice, and leered at her breasts. Her corset and chemise still covered her body, but she felt horribly exposed and dirty.
“So you like to tease, do you? You little witch, I should have known you would want me like this. You’ve been begging for months. I almost had you so many times, but now I’ll have you as much as I want. I know you want it too. If you scream it will just make it better for me.” He leaned in so she could smell the reek of brandy on his breath. “Nobody will want you now. Nobody will have you but me.”
Her pulse raced as she fought frantically to free herself from his grasp. Her prayers were answered as the door she was leaning against began to move wildly behind her. Shouts were heard on the other side of the wooden door.
The man cursed and pushed her down before opening the back window and escaping. Utterly exhausted and weak she fell to the ground in one giant heap alternating between sobs and choking.
The door opened revealing her father and their nearest neighbors the Rawlings and, to her horror, the man she was betrothed to. Naturally all they saw was a young girl with her clothes torn, alone and crying.
Nothing needed to be said, because no matter how many times she tried to explain what had happened, nobody believed she hadn’t invited advances from a man. Not even her own parents, and especially not the man who had earlier that year pledged himself to be her husband.
Emma never danced again.