If she were not in a position where her fragile reputation was of such importance, she would have been more than willing to give in to temptation.
Last eve, Raoul had taught her that she was sacrificing more than just male companionship in her life as a spinster. Even now her body ached for the bold touch that had sent her up in flames.
With a shiver, she continued stroking the charcoal stick over the stretched canvas. Now was not the time to consider the pleasure Raoul so willingly offered.
The door that connected the cottage to the workroom was pushed open and without turning her head, Sarah greeted her visitor.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Charlebois.”
There was the heavy sound of footsteps, then her visitor was looming beside her, his arms folded over his chest, a heavy scowl marring his perfect features.
“Where is your maid?” he snapped.
Sarah arched a brow at the less than gracious greeting, pretending her heart had not slammed into her ribs at the sight of his magnificent body revealed by his tailored claret jacket, and buff breeches that clung to long legs. Or that she was not suddenly wishing she was wearing something besides the shabby green gown, with her hair pulled into a simple braid.
“Maggie took the boys to the village to visit with the Vicar’s son. Why?”
“Because, Miss Jefferson, a young woman left alone in an isolated cottage should at least possess the sense to keep her door locked,” he gritted.
“Delilah,” she called softly, smiling faintly as the large dog at her feet offered a low, threatening growl. “Down, girl,” she soothed, patting the dog’s head. “If that is all, Mr. Charlebois? I do have work to finish.”
His lips tightened, as if he were not entirely satisfied, but clearly realizing that Sarah would not be bullied, he instead turned his attention to her sketch of a snowy garden, with one child pulling another on a sled.
Shifting so that he was leaning over her shoulder, he bent his head to whisper directly into her ear.
“Beautiful.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and then wished she hadn’t when his warm male scent invaded her senses.
“Thank you.”
“Sarah.”
She jerked her head to the side as his lips brushed the tip of her ear, sending jolts of excitement through her entire body.
“Mr. Charlebois…”
“We need to speak,” he interrupted, moving to regard her flushed countenance with a somber expression.
“No.” Her hand trembled as she set aside the charcoal. When she was alone, it was easy enough to be sensible, but with Raoul standing there in all his glorious beauty…well, being sensible was the last thing on her mind. “You need to be about whatever mysterious business has brought you to Cheshire, and I need to complete my etching before tomorrow.”
He caught back the words trembling on his lips, seemingly struck by a sudden thought.
“Why Monday?”
“It truly is none of your business.”
He flicked a careless finger over her cheek. “You know you will never be rid of me until you have answered my question.”
“You…” She heaved an aggravated sigh. “Fine. I am traveling to Chester tomorrow to sell my etchings and finish my Christmas shopping for the boys.”
His gaze was intent. “You intend to travel alone?”
“I will travel on the stage and spend the night at the local hotel before traveling back.” Her tone was edged with warning. “It is a journey I have made on several occasions and one, I might add, I do not have to ask your permission to embark upon.”
His lips twitched in amusement, an oddly arrested expression on his handsome countenance.
“It may be difficult to believe, but I did not come here to argue with you.”
Disconcerted by his unwavering gaze, Sarah unnecessarily smoothed her skirt. “Then why did you come?”
“That, ma belle, is a question that eludes any reasonable explanation.”
Her gaze lifted at his strange response, for the first time noting the shadows beneath his brilliant blue eyes.
“You are pale,” she said, her brief annoyance swiftly replaced by concern. “I warned you to remain abed until you were properly healed.”
“I did offer to remain in bed if you would stay there with me,” he murmured, a wicked smile touching his lips.
Her stomach fluttered at the realization of just how much she wanted to be in that bed before she hastily returned her thoughts to more immediate matters.
“I do not know why you must be so stubborn. You are doing harm to no one but yourself.”
“Actually you are mistaken, I have managed to do harm to at least three others this morning,” he drawled.
She frowned, oddly disturbed by the thought he had put himself at risk.
“Are you jesting?”
“Not at all.”
“Why would you wish to harm anyone?”
“It was not my intent until they set upon me last eve.” His features hardened with fury. “I am a reasonable gentleman, but I do not tolerate being attacked without offering some retaliation.”
Her eyes widened. “I knew you were not thrown.”
“I am flattered to think your opinion of my skills in the saddle is so high.”
Sarah was not amused. He might be flippant at being assaulted, but the mere thought was enough to clench her heart with horror.
“Do not be flattered,” she muttered. “I was more convinced that Hercules was far too well trained to give you a toss. Willie has assured me that he has never encountered such a perfectly behaved beast, and he is never wrong when it comes to animals.”
He chuckled. “Are you certain your father never trained you to duel?”
She refused to be distracted. “Why were you attacked?”
“My father paid two cutthroats to frighten me away.”
“Good heavens. Why would Lord Merriot do such a thing?”
He hesitated a long moment, his expression enigmatic. “Because he fears I have come home to uncover a secret he has kept hidden for decades.”
Sarah gave a slow shake of her head. Her father had been utterly devoted to her. It was difficult to even imagine how a man could wish to harm his own child, no matter what the cause.
It was little wonder that Raoul instinctively hid his emotions behind glib charm. Lord Merriot must have taught him at an early age that others could not be trusted.
Had she not found Willie and Jimmy equally wary when they first moved into her cottage?
Her heart twisted with a pity she was wise enough to keep hidden.
“Is he wrong?” she demanded softly.
“No.”
“So what is this terrible secret?”
“I haven’t the least notion.”
She studied him with a hint of puzzlement. “You know there is a secret, but not what it is?”
“Precisely.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know there is a secret because Dunnington, the tutor who raised me in London, left me a legacy of twenty thousand pounds along with a brief message that revealed the money had been extorted from Lord Merriot.”
She blinked. Good lord. It all sounded like some plot from a melodrama. Only the bitter smile that twisted Raoul’s mouth assured her that it was all painfully real.
“Your tutor blackmailed your father?”
“You cannot be more shocked than I was,” he retorted. “I have never known a more honorable man than Dunnington. Still, I am convinced his actions were solely to ensure my future. He understood my father would never offer me the support most sons could expect from their family.”
“Twenty thousand pounds.”
“Perhaps you will look more kindly at me now you know I am a gentleman of such worth,” he teased.
She waved away the ridiculous words. He was not a gentleman who would ever need wealth to entice a woman. Any woman.
“It is a great deal of money to pay to a tutor.”
“It is.” The bitterness deepened. “Which proves that whatever sin Lord Merriot is hiding must be worthy of such a considerable sum.”
“You did not know of this legacy until your tutor died?”
“Dunnington did not offer so much as a hint.”
“How odd.”
He shrugged. “No more odd than revealing he had blackmailed my father without offering an explanation of what hidden secret he had discovered, or how he stumbled across the information in the first place.”
“Actually, that part I understand perfectly,” she said without thought.
He stilled, his eyes narrowed. “You do?”
“He presumably swore a pledge not to reveal the secret when he requested the money, do you not think?” she pointed out, rather surprised when he appeared struck by her words. “If he is the man of honor you believed him to be, then he could not go back on his word.”
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered, his lips twisting. “I never considered the matter in such a light.”
She paused, her stomach still queasy at the mere thought that anyone, let alone Lord Merriot, would wish this man harm.
“Well, at least I now know what keeps you in Cheshire,” she muttered.
His eyes darkened, his finger brushing over her lips. “If you think it is only my father’s secret that keeps me here, you would be wrong.”
Delicious warmth cascaded through her body, the workroom with its barren stone walls and flagstone floor suddenly seeming far smaller and more…
Intimate.
She jerked from his touch as if she had been branded.
“Have you made any progress in your search?” she demanded, her voice annoyingly breathless.
A smile touched his lips, as if pleased by her revealing reaction.
“I am fairly confident that it has something to do with my arrival from France.”
“Why?” She frowned. “He claimed you as his son, did he not?”
The smile faded, and was replaced by lurking bitterness. “Yes, but shortly before I was sent to Dunnington in London, my father went to great effort and expense to rid the Great House of my French nurse, as well as her lover. It seems likely they knew something he did not want bandied about.”
Sarah hid her lack of confidence in his logic. In truth, she did not find the fact that Lord Merriot had dismissed two of his servants as particularly suspicious. He was well known to be a difficult and demanding employer.
“Could you not simply ask your nurse for the truth?” she instead demanded.
“I have a friend searching for her. Once she is located, I will question her.”
“Until then, you intend to remain in the neighborhood?”
He lifted a brow at her question. “Of course.”
“Even if it is dangerous?”
He stepped closer, his eyes darkening. “Are you concerned for my welfare, Miss Jefferson?”
Well, of course she was concerned, she acknowledged with a flare of aggravation. Had she not seen the brutal bruises left by his attackers?
“Only a fool would deliberately stick his head in a viper’s nest.”
He reached to cup her cheek in his hand, his gaze skimming over her upturned countenance.
“In truth, I am far more terrified of the bewitchment you have so easily woven about me than of any danger my father might pose.”
Sliding off the stool, Sarah retreated until her back hit the stone wall.
A mistake she instantly realized as he prowled toward her, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her shoulders to effectively trap her.
“Mr. Charlebois,” she breathed. “You cannot…”
Raoul proved that he could.
And could do it well.
Sarah’s eyes fluttered shut as he lowered his head and kissed her with a blatant hunger. She told herself that it was shock that had her grasping his arms as if they were a lifeline. And why her lips parted to invite the thrust of his tongue.
Although the dazzling pleasure that speared through her body did not feel like shock.
Good lord, she felt as if she were being devoured. And nothing had ever been so wonderful.
Tilting back her head, Sarah allowed Raoul to deepen the kiss, a restless ache blooming in the pit of her stomach. She instinctively arched to press against his hard muscles, needing to be closer.
She shivered as she felt the growing evidence of his arousal.
A brazen part of her longed to lower her hand and explore his erection just as intimately as he had explored her the night before. To discover what could make him moan. And sigh. And become so desperate with need that he would shove up her skirts and take her right there against the wall.
Dazed by her brazen thoughts, it took Sarah a moment to recognize the sound of childish laughter that echoed through the closed door.
She stiffened even as Raoul spoke against her tender mouth. “Ah, I believe I recognize the sound of hungry children in search of gingerbread.” His tongue stroked over her lower lip. “No, not gingerbread. Cinnamon and apples.” Lifting his head, he regarded her with a smoldering heat. “Tarts?”
Gathering her dazed thoughts along with her breath, Sarah belatedly pushed her hands against his wide chest.
“Mr. Charlebois, you must halt this…”
“Blundering attempts at seduction?” he smoothly supplied. “I am sorry, ma belle, but that is impossible.” With a sigh, he stepped back and briefly closed his eyes, as if struggling for his own composure. Then, lifting his lashes, he sucked in a deep breath. “Unfortunately, my once perfect timing appears to have vanished along with my career.”
With a dip of his head, Raoul turned to make his way to the door. “Return to your work, Miss Jefferson, I promised to assist the boys with costumes for their charade.”
Left on her own, Sarah listened to Willie and Jimmy’s shouts of pleasure as Raoul joined them, as well as his answering laugh. There was a rumble of conversation, and while the door prevented her from making out the words, it was obvious they were thoroughly enjoying each others’ company.
It was not until the chill from the wall began to seep through the back of her woolen gown that Sarah roused herself from the strange sense of bewilderment, and forced herself back onto the stool.
Good lord.
She had been an idiot to believe she was prepared to meet with Raoul and treat him with the cool composure she had practiced the entire morning. He had only to walk through the door for her heart to race and her palms to sweat.
And when he had kissed her…well, she had gone up in flames.
Flames that continued to smolder and plague her with a restless need.
Most unnerving, however, was the ache of sympathy clutching her heart.
Raoul might pretend he felt nothing but fury at his father’s contemptible behavior, but she had all too easily sensed the wounds that festered deep in his soul. He had been betrayed by the one man who should have loved him the most. The thought touched her with a frightening intensity.
It was one thing to be overwhelmed with lust.
That, at least, was easy enough to comprehend.
This…aching need to soothe his pain was far, far more dangerous.
Grimacing, Sarah reached for her charcoal, not at all surprised to discover her hand was shaking.
The ground was, after all, shifting beneath her feet.
December 18
Chester
It was a weary but satisfied Sarah who stood aside as the two maids poured the last of the hot water into the tub set beside the blazing fireplace.
She had arrived in Chester before luncheon and after delivering her etchings to the gallery that sold them on commission, she had devoted the day to strolling through the half-timbered shops that hung over the small cobbled streets, purchasing the various household items she needed before turning her attention to the small Christmas presents she could afford for the boys.
All in all, she spent more than she had intended, but
she was pleased with her efforts, and at last made her way to the small but comfortable hotel. She had requested a bath in her chamber, preferring the thought of warming her chilled body to filling the empty ache in her stomach.
Gathering the empty buckets, the younger maid scurried from the room, leaving the elder servant to halt before Sarah with a warm smile.
“There you are, miss, nice and hot, just as you requested. Will there be anything else?”
“No, I thank you.”
“I could have a dinner tray sent up,” the woman pressed, her motherly tone matching her round countenance, her gray hair pulled into a simple bun. “The common rooms are no place for a lady.”
Sarah pulled a coin from her reticule and pressed it in the servant’s hand. “That will not be necessary. I had a late tea.”
Slipping the coin into the pocket of her voluminous apron, the woman waved a hand toward the rope hanging near the fireplace.
“If you change your mind, just ring the bell.”
“I will.”
“And lock the door,” the servant warned as she stepped into the hall. “Our guests are decent folk, but the tap room is always filled with those men who believe a female without protection is inviting their attention.”
“I will take the greatest care, I assure you,” Sarah promised, waiting for the maid to walk down the hall before she closed and bolted the door.
Once alone, she swiftly shed her travel-worn clothing and sank into the waiting tub.
She moaned in relief as the hot water soaked away the lingering chill and eased her cramped muscles. Allowing her head to rest against the rim of the tub, she took in her surroundings, absently noting the narrow bed and the scruffy wardrobe that matched a low table, set with a candle and pitcher of water. It was hardly fit for royalty, but Sarah appreciated the rare sense of peace.
For the moment, there were no boys squabbling over who had the larger slice of bread, and no Maggie chiding her to attend some function or another in the village. And best of all, no Raoul Charlebois with his devastating smile and wounded eyes.
Perhaps if she spent the night reminding herself of all the reasons becoming involved with such a gentleman was nothing less than a disaster, she could manage to keep him at a proper distance.
Seduce Me By Christmas Page 15
