The water had cooled by the time she had scrubbed away the dust from the day, and climbing from the tub, she rubbed herself dry with a towel and pulled on her night rail.
It was too early for bed, but she was not foolish enough to stray from her room. Instead, she stood before the fire and held her hands toward the flames.
She was still standing there when a soft tap brought her out of her broodings. With a jerk of surprise, she glanced to the side, for the first time noting a door that connected her chamber to the adjoining room.
“What the devil?” she muttered, cautiously moving toward the door.
There was another rap, this one more insistent.
“Sarah.”
Reaching the door, Sarah froze in shock.
Raoul. Even through the thick wood there was no mistaking his low rich tone. Or the shivers of desire it sent down her spine.
“Mr. Charlebois?”
“Open the door,” he commanded.
She struggled to think through the fog of disbelief clouding her mind.
“I most certainly will not. What are you doing in Chester?”
“You are not the only one with business to attend to.”
“Business?”
There was a short pause. “I was charged with a most important commission that I was obliged to discharge before Christmas.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, wishing that it was outrage that was making her heart race. Instead, she very much feared that it was exhilaration.
“I do not believe you.”
“It is the truth, I assure you.”
“So you claim it is nothing more than a coincidence that you traveled to Chester on the precise same day as myself, and happened to have a room that adjoins my own?”
She heard his chuckle at her blunt challenge. “My business in Chester was genuine, although I will admit my decision to conduct it today was no coincidence.”
“And your room?”
“I made certain that it would connect with yours.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Sarah took an instinctive step backward.
“You go too far, sir.”
“Do I?” There was the sound of metal scraping against metal. “Then I suppose I might as well go even further.”
“What are you doing?” she stupidly demanded, already knowing the answer as the door was thrust open to reveal Raoul casually leaning against the door jam.
“Going too far, ma belle,” he murmured, his eyes dark with a dangerous heat as he allowed his gaze to drift over her linen night rail and the dark curls she had left free to cascade down her back.
A matching heat shimmered through Sarah as she did her own share of staring.
Like her, Raoul had removed his traveling attire and had changed into a brocade dressing gown that was loosely tied at his waist. Her mouth went dry at the glimpse of his smooth, broad chest, and the powerful legs that were lightly dusted with golden hair. Even his feet were perfect.
Apollo, indeed.
Sarah licked her lips, at last lifting her gaze to study Raoul’s satisfied expression. He was pleased to know his golden beauty disturbed her.
She tilted her chin. “You have a key to my room?”
“I rarely leave anything to chance.” He shrugged. “Besides, it could be said that the key belongs to my room. The lock is, after all, on my side.”
“You are…”
His brow arched. “Yes?”
“Impossible.”
Ignoring the insult, Raoul moved smoothly forward and before Sarah could react he had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the doorway.
“And you must be starving,” he said, smiling down at her startled expression. “I ordered dinner.”
Sarah did not bother to struggle. It was not that she feared Raoul would physically force her to join him. He was not a gentleman who needed to overpower a woman to seduce her.
No. She did not struggle because she did not want to.
Already the delectable aroma of food was clenching her hollow stomach and reminding her that it had been hours since her late tea. And in truth, a very large part of her wanted to give into temptation.
Temptation for dinner.
For…Raoul.
Not that she was conceding absolute defeat.
Not when she feared this man was a threat to more than her innocence.
“You are rather certain of your own charms.”
“No,” he denied, urging her toward the small table set in the center of his much larger chamber. “Just convinced that for all your splendid care of Willie and Jimmy, you are far less dedicated to your own needs.”
Her gaze briefly skimmed over the delicately papered walls that matched the curtains as well as the drapery around the four-poster bed. Hastily, she returned her gaze to the nearby table.
“That is ridiculous,” she muttered.
“Did I mistake the matter?” he drawled, halting to pull out one of the wooden chairs. “Perhaps you have already ordered your dinner?”
She glared at him as she took her seat. “Obviously you overheard me tell the maid I did not care for a tray.”
He leaned down to brush his lips over the top of her head before rounding the table and smoothly sliding into his own chair.
“Which offered me a perfect opportunity to lure you to my room.”
“As I said. Impossible.”
“And near the point of starvation.” He reached across the table to unfold one of the linen napkins, and held it out to her with a teasing smile. “Surely you would not be cruel enough to condemn me to eating my dinner in solitude?”
She jerked the napkin from his waiting fingers and shoved it onto her lap.
“I do not doubt you would only have to step out the door to have all the companionship you might desire.”
He studied her with a disturbing intensity. “But I want no other but you, ma belle.”
Chapter 13
Raoul studied her from beneath half-lowered lids, the air suddenly prickling with awareness. Then as she shifted uneasily, he grimaced ruefully and leaned back in his seat.
“I trust your transactions were successful?”
Sarah swallowed the strange lump that had formed in her throat. “I believe so.”
“You cannot keep me in suspense,” he teased, his slender fingers aimlessly toying with a silver fork. “What delights did you come across for Father Christmas to bring for the boys?”
“I was fortunate enough to discover a set of tin soldiers for Willie, and a book of fairy tales that I believe Jimmy will enjoy.”
“Fine treats, indeed.”
She shrugged. “They are simple gifts, but the boys have so little…”
Without warning, he reached to grasp the hand she had laid on the table.
“Sarah, possessing a home, and having your love is by far the greatest gift that Willie and Jimmy could ever receive,” he interrupted, his voice harsh with sincerity. “Trust me, I know the meaning of such things.”
“Yes, I suppose you do,” she said softly.
“Sarah…”
Her heart felt as if it was melting, and with a burst of panic, Sarah was tugging her hand free to begin pulling the covers off the various dishes.
“Roasted duck. Salmon. Mushrooms in cream sauce. Asparagus. Buttered potatoes. Fresh strawberries.” Her eyes widened as Raoul politely filled her plate and then his own with the bounty. “Good heavens, did the cook believe you were entertaining an entire regiment?”
He handed her a plate and poured the waiting wine into her glass. “I merely requested a few of her finer dishes.”
Unable to resist, Sarah dug into the meal with undisguised hunger. Raoul had already guessed she was starving, and the food was delicious. Why pretend otherwise?
“Ah,” she said, taking a sip of the wine. “Another victim of your smile. It is a wonder she did not insist on spoon-feeding you.”
Seemingly pleased by her refusal to pick at her dinner as if
she were a bird, Raoul set about enjoying his meal.
“If my smile is as fatal as you pretend it to be, I would not have to plot and scheme merely to share dinner with you, ma belle.”
“Not all women are in the position to fulfill your whims, Mr. Charlebois.”
The words had left her lips before she could halt them, and she stiffened as his eyes slowly narrowed.
“Whims?” he murmured, his voice husky. “You believe my interest in you is merely a whim?”
“Is it not?”
He polished off the last of the duck. “No matter what I say, you will merely dismiss it as shallow flattery, so I shall have to prove my sincerity by other means.”
She frowned. “And what means would those be?”
“A clever general never reveals his battle plans.” He reached for a platter and held it toward her. “Strawberry?”
Warily, she reached to take one of the offered treats. “Thank you.”
Raoul settled back in his seat, sipping his wine. “Have you considered the future for the boys?”
She blinked at the abrupt question, wondering if he were trying to lull her off guard.
“Of course I have.” She nibbled at the strawberry, savoring the tart juice that filled her senses. It had been years since she had enjoyed such a delicious feast. “To be honest, it has been preying on my mind since I took them in.”
“And what are your conclusions?”
“I believe that Willie could be happy working as a groom or in the local stables. He possesses an uncanny skill with animals. But Jimmy…” Her words trailed off as she pushed aside her empty plate.
“Tell me.”
“No doubt I am prejudiced, but I believe his intellect is quite superior, and his curiosity never sated,” she discovered herself admitting, oddly relieved to share her anxiety about the future. “If he could be properly schooled, I believe he would have his choice of respectable professions.”
“Schooling is an expensive luxury for most.”
“Yes. And there is the awkward fact that I am not truly his mother. I am not certain I possess the right to send him from his home to a school.”
He gave a slow nod, thankfully not dismissing her concern with some vague platitude.
“A pity that Dunnington is not still here,” he instead murmured, his expression wistful. “He possessed a true genius for teaching. Even for those students who had no desire to learn, as Ian is ample proof.”
“Ian?”
“One of my fellow bastards and my closest friend, along with Fredrick.”
Sarah studied the beautiful male features, sensing that she was being offered a rare glimpse into Raoul’s innermost feelings.
“The school has been closed?”
He drained the last of his wine, appearing heartbreakingly vulnerable in the flickering firelight.
“It was never a formal institute, more a house filled with young boys and a gentleman who loved them.”
“You miss it,” she said, softly.
“I do. Which I suppose explains why I…”
She leaned forward. “What?”
For a moment, she feared he might retreat behind his polished charm, but then, with a sigh, he met her questioning gaze.
“I bought the house.”
“Oh.” That was not what she had expected. “Do you intend to live there?”
“No.”
“Then why did you purchase it?”
He set aside his glass. “At the time, I simply could not bear to think of it standing empty. It had always been so full of life.”
“And now?”
His eyes became distant. “Now I am considering the notion of returning it to what it once was, assuming I can find a suitable candidate to take Dunnington’s place.”
“You intend to start a school?”
“It is of yet nothing more than a vague hope.” He gave a shake of his head, an odd smile lurking about his lips. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“You are the first person I have told,” he admitted, watching the various emotions flicker over her countenance. “Have I shocked you?”
She could not deny that the thought of this exquisite gentleman who had made his fame among London society fussing over a pack of grubby schoolboys was difficult to imagine.
“I must admit that I am astonished.”
His expression hardened, as if her words had struck a nerve. “I am not the utter feckless fribble you assume me to be.”
Good lord, she had hurt him. Instinctively, she reached across the table to touch his hand.
“I do not think you a feckless fribble,” she denied.
“Ah, no,” he mocked. “You accused me of always performing upon a stage.”
She hesitated, sensing she was standing at the edge of a precipice. For all Raoul’s arrogance, there was a part of him that was still that small boy who expected to be treated with disdain.
All she had to do was allow him to believe that she lacked any respect for him as a person, and he would retreat from her forever.
The thought was dismissed as soon as it fluttered through her mind.
She might be terrified of her reaction to Raoul Charlebois, but she was not such a coward that she would deliberately injure him. At least, not again.
His father had done enough damage.
“What I believe is that you have been taught to disguise your emotions, and that your trust is not easily won,” she said, holding his gaze. “I also believe that you possess a genuine concern for those children who are not born into wealth. If you do begin a school, I have absolute confidence you will alter the lives of any child fortunate enough to become a student. That is a true legacy.”
“Sarah.” He turned his hand so he was grasping her fingers, then rising to his feet, he tugged her out of her seat. For a long moment he simply searched her upturned face, as if seeking some truth etched on her features. At last, a small smile curved his lips. “I never thought this was possible.”
Sarah trembled beneath the force of his searing gaze. “What?”
“That there could be a woman who could see something other than the infamous Raoul Charlebois.”
“It would be better if I did not.”
“Why?”
Beyond pretense, she heaved a sigh. “You make me desire things I cannot have.”
She heard his breath catch at her blunt honesty, his hand lifting to explore the sensitive lines of her face.
“Why deny yourself?”
She struggled to recall all the fine reasons for resisting the sensations that scorched through her body.
“Because I must think of the boys,” she at last managed to rasp.
Taking care not to startle her, Raoul shifted to wraphis arms around her waist, tugging her against the hard width of his chest.
“The boys are not here, ma belle.” His head lowered to nuzzle her temple. “We are completely alone, with no one to know what we do.”
No one to know, temptation whispered in her ear. Or perhaps it was the devil.
Home was miles away, and the boys in the care of Maggie Stone. Why should she not for once grasp the pleasure that was offered?
As if sensing her weakening resistance, Raoul allowed his hands to skim up the curve of her back, urging her ever closer to his rigid muscles.
Sarah lifted her hands, but rather than pushing him away, she found them slipping beneath the lapels of his robe, finding the satin smoothness of his skin.
“Convenience does not necessarily make it a wise choice,” she muttered, ruining her pretense of sanity as her hands explored the rippling muscles beneath Raoul’s heated skin.
He chuckled as he stroked his lips along the line of her ear.
“Wisdom is no doubt a fine thing, but I have always thought it highly overrated,” he assured her, his lips finding the tender hollow beneath her ear. “Great art is created with the senses, not the mind.”
Her head tilted back of its own accord, allowi
ng him access to the tender curve of her neck. Raoul was swift to take advantage, his mouth leaving a trail of fire as he followed the line of collarbone.
“You consider this great art?” she husked.
“I consider you great art, ma belle,” he said, his voice rough as he abruptly scooped her off her feet and carried her to the bed. With care, he lowered her onto the blankets, his eyes darkening as they slid over her flushed face and the tumble of her raven hair. “Nothing less than a masterpiece.”
A distant alarm whispered in the back of her mind. Surely she should be uncertain? Or nervous? Or at least, mildly apprehensive?
Instead, any reasonable hesitation was lost beneath the rising tide of restless anticipation.
Her mind might comprehend that she was plunging into danger, but her body had been desperately longing for this moment since Raoul had tutored her in the ecstasy to be discovered in his touch.
“You are being ridiculous,” she breathed, well aware that this man had known some of the most beautiful women in England. “I am nothing more than passable.”
“Art is always in the eye of the beholder,” he husked in low tones. “And to me, you are as exquisite as the Mona Lisa.”
She smiled faintly. “I fear you must be blind.”
“Blind?” He offered a wicked chuckle as he shifted to tug at the ribbons that held up her night rail. “I assure you, ma belle, my eyes have never seen more clearly.” Gently he pushed the gown downward, his breath catching as he skimmed his gaze over her exposed body. “Nor have they ever been so pleased with what they see.”
She shivered, ridiculously thrilled at the knowledge he thought her beautiful.
“I am not accustomed to allowing so much to be on display,” she murmured, a faint blush touching her cheeks as he finished tugging off the night rail and dropping it on the floor.
“Do not be afraid, Sarah. I swear that I will do nothing that you do not desire,” he promised, lowering his head to close his lips around the tip of a nipple.
Afraid? Good heavens, she was going up in flames. Unable to halt her response, she parted her lips and moaned as his tongue teased the hardened nub, the caress sending a sharp excitement trembling through her body.
Instinctively her hands lifted to shove her fingers in his thick, golden curls, her back arching in silent encouragement.
Seduce Me By Christmas Page 16
