The Seduction of Sara

by Karen Hawkins

  He laughed—she was a delight. He placed his foot on the bench, then leaned forward to trace his thumb across her bottom lip. The touch was as velvety soft as it was forbidden. “To begin with, you should avoid men like me.”

  Sara’s entire body flushed, and she was hard-pressed not to turn her face toward his touch. She held her breath until he dropped his hand from her cheek.

  “It’s possible, but it will take time. And what about Greyley? He will get in the way.”

  “I’ll find a way past Anthony.” Perhaps with some help from Anna, who seemed able to capture Anthony’s unalleviated attention without even trying.

  Nick smiled. “I have no doubt you will rid yourself of your brother once you put your mind to it. But that’s just the beginning.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched her like a wolf stalking its prey. “You must realize the dangers. To make your proposition, you will need to be alone with this man. There is a possibility that he might get carried away.”

  “Then I shall scream.”

  “And if no one hears you? Or worse yet—” He stepped closer. “What if this paragon won’t let you scream?”

  “Then he wouldn’t be a paragon, would he?”

  “No man is a saint, Sara.”

  Sara wasn’t sure she’d like a saint. “How could he stop me?”

  Nick kissed her. One moment he was standing beside her, and the next he was holding her against him, his mouth covering hers, his hands roaming at will.

  Her first impulse was to fight him, but his kiss stole every thought from her head. Nick’s passion wrapped fiercely about her, drowning her in a wave of sensuality so overwhelming it frightened her.

  Suddenly he released her and she staggered backward, her knees hitting the edge of the bench. She sat down so hard her teeth rattled. Her mind whirled at the feelings that raced through her, that his touch evoked. Good God, no wonder the man has women lying in wait for him.

  Nick stared down at her with eyes so dark they were almost black.

  Sara pressed her trembling fingers to her lips. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “You’ve been begging to be kissed since our first meeting.”

  “Not by you,” she replied, stung at the faint sneer she thought she detected in his voice.

  “No,” he agreed with a faint smile. “Not by me.”

  Slowly Sara’s heartbeat calmed, her face cooled, and her hands stopped shaking. But her thoughts were still distracted by his kiss. He was right; she had no idea how to deal with an onslaught like that. “Will you show me how to deal with kisses?”

  Nick’s gaze fixed on her mouth. After a prolonged silence, he said, “It would take practice.”

  “Practice?”

  “Oh, yes. Plenty of practice. A few hours, perhaps.”

  Something inside her melted. “Hours?”

  “To build your resistance.” Amusement softened his expression. “If you’d been kissed properly before now, my sweet, you wouldn’t have responded so eagerly. It’s rather like wine: If you drink a little each night, it doesn’t affect you as strongly when you imbibe more.”

  She didn’t believe him for a second, but the thought of hours of drugging kisses sounded too delightfully sinful to refuse. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

  “You are wise to question me. Men don’t always tell the truth.” He glinted down at her. “Let that be lesson one.”

  “I already knew that,” she sniffed. “Shall we rejoin the others?”

  Nick grinned. His little widow was not only exciting, she was no one’s fool. He supposed he should feel guilty, but he didn’t. He felt more alive than he had in months. If it took pretending to be her friend to gain her as his mistress, then so be it. “Very well. Together, we will reach your goal.”

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, then said, “But what will you want in return?”

  “One kiss—one that has nothing to do with our lessons. Whenever and wherever I choose.”

  “That’s all? You’d go to such trouble just for a kiss?”

  She was so delightfully innocent. Nick tipped her face to his. “That and your word that you will keep our agreement secret. You may wish to ruin yourself, but I do not.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Very good.” The faint murmur of voices reached them. “Ah, Miss Thraxton and the estimable Edmund. Shall we return to the path and wait for them?”

  Sara nodded.

  Anna and Edmund soon arrived, exclaiming over how they’d been searching for the missing couple. Panting, the footman lurched up the path in their wake. Nick turned their questions aside with a casual confidence that left Edmund gaping and Anna watching him with a suspicious stare.

  As Nick walked beside Sara to the waiting carriage, his thoughts were engaged with their agreement. He’d been wanting a way to reach her, and now he had it—and the fact that she’d sought him out made it all the more delicious. Smiling, Nick handed her into the carriage.

  He would enjoy teaching his charge very, very much.

  Chapter 11

  Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, Hibberton Hall shook off the must and mold that had held it prisoner for so many years. The east hall was finally finished, the roof repaired, the fireplaces reinforced, and the odors of paint and wax mingled in the large, empty bedchambers. New rugs had been ordered and would soon arrive. The furnishings deemed salvageable would soon be returned to their places. Mr. Pratt was making a list of items that needed to be purchased.

  The great hall was almost completed, as well. The walls had been replastered and painted, the floors sanded and refinished, the paneling cleaned and shined. All that was left was the replacement of the oak paneling in the foyer.

  Last would come the renovation of the west hall. Because of the extensive roof damage, that would take months, even with the army of skilled craftsmen.

  The late-afternoon sun was resting in the tops of the trees when Nick returned from town, his mind lingering on his walk with Sara. He left his phaeton with the groom and entered Hibberton. A footman took his hat and gloves and withdrew with a quiet murmur. Nick paused and looked around the great hall. Beautifully refurbished, the floors gleaming, the furnishings sumptuous—he should have felt the stirring of triumph, but found simply a sense of belonging. Of coming home.

  He’d never recognized that low hum of dissatisfaction that had always pervaded his actions and thoughts for what it was—the desire to have a home of his own. Nick walked slowly through the hall, his footsteps ringing in the silence. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised; the nomadic existence he’d led with his mother, following her as she went from protector to protector, had never given him the luxury of belonging anywhere.

  Nick walked to the front window of the library to look out at the leaf-scattered lawn. Thank God he no longer had a heart to break—Violette’s death had effectively ended that possibility. He would never allow himself to suffer from the surfeit of emotion that had crippled his mother’s life.

  He trusted in something far stronger than love’s illusions: pure, unadulterated lust. Which was exactly what bound him to Sara. He rubbed a hand across his mouth as if he could still feel the pressure of her lips on his. There was passion in her, and a warmth of spirit that made being with her a delight.

  Nick looked around the library and for an instant, he imagined her coming into the room in that impetuous way she had, a smile on her lips, her eyes sparkling. Suddenly the room warmed and brightened, the weight of the silence disappearing.

  As he turned from the window, a sudden flicker of light flashed in the corner of his eye, then vanished. Nick clenched his eyes closed, pressing a hand over them. Bloody hell, not again. As he stood, the tightness behind his eyes increased; a slow, tormenting pressure built against his temple. Why did this have to happen now, of all times? He was to meet Sara tomorrow.

  Still, the pain increased. Unable to stand it any longer, he left the library and made his way to the huge master
chamber. Someone had opened the curtains and blinding light streamed in through the windows. Cursing, he closed the curtains and fell onto the bed, praying the pain would cease.

  Aunt Delphi floated into the room, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw Sara standing by the window. “Oh! I didn’t see you—Why, Sara! Are you crying?” She set a bandbox on a table and came forward, her face folded in worry.

  “Heavens, no, Aunt Delphi.” But she felt like it. Anthony had received word this morning that Marcus was on his way to Bath. Her time was drawing short, and she had not seen Nick in over four days.

  Where was he? He’d promised to assist her and then disappeared. Well, she knew the dashing Earl of Bridgeton was no saint. Whatever kept him from meeting his promise to her was undoubtedly reprehensible, and she wished nothing to do with it.

  Sara caught Delphi’s curious gaze and forced a smile. “Did you hear that Marcus is coming for a visit?”

  “Anthony seems relieved.”

  “I’m sure he is.” He’d been furious when he’d discovered Lady Birlington’s matchmaking had led to a walk in the park with a man he castigated as a bounder, a rakehell, and worse. He’d vowed that it would take an army to watch her, then he’d clearly called in the troops. Sighing a little, Sara turned toward her aunt, catching sight of the bandbox. “Have you been shopping?”

  A look of inexpressible mischief crossed Delphi’s face. “Yes, all morning. And I bought a hat!”

  Sara blinked, as much at her aunt’s enthusiasm as at the unfamiliar expression on her face. Aunt Delphi never looked mischievous. “May I see it?”

  Delphi glanced at the door. “I suppose so…just wait.” She scurried across the room and closed the door, then brought the box to where Sara stood. “I’ve been wanting this since I first saw it, but I was afraid it was far too unconventional.” She opened the box and pulled out an extraordinary confection of ribbons and bows and feathers.

  More feathers than any hat had a right to. And the colors…“My, that’s quite—Have you tried it on?”

  “Not yet,” Delphi said, her eyes bright with excitement. Her hands fluttered over the hat, as if unsure what to stroke first—a red-velvet ribbon, a lavender bow, or one of the many huge orange feathers. “Do you think I should?”

  It was so uncharacteristic of her aunt that Sara smiled. Perhaps Delphi was just trying to amuse herself since the comte’s disappearance. He was rarely about now, and Sara could only hope that Nick had warned the man off, although it seemed too chivalrous a gesture for the decadent earl. She pulled the hat from the box. “Of course you must try it on. Here, I’ll help.”

  Within moments, Aunt Delphi stood in front of the small mirror above the mantle, the preposterous hat on her head. She looked anxiously at Sara. “What do you think? Is it too shocking? I don’t want anyone to think I’m fast.”

  Sara gave Delphi a considering look. “No. I don’t think it’s too shocking.” In fact, the bonnet framed the older woman’s face in a most attractive way, the profusion of color highlighting the color in Delphi’s face. “In fact, it looks wonderful.”

  Delphi gave a sudden laugh, looking years younger. “Do you think so? I had hoped…that is, I was thinking that perhaps I should also purchase a new gown.” Her hand smoothed over her sensible gray walking dress.

  “Definitely,” Sara said. “If you’d like, I’ll go with you.”

  “I wish we could leave this instant, but I promised Lady Birlington I would attend her this morning, and she would be disappointed if I did not come.”

  “Tomorrow, then. I’ve nothing planned.” Thanks to that wastrel Nicholas Montrose, she thought sourly, as her aunt almost skipped from the room.

  There was something strange going on with Delphi. But since she seemed to have gotten over her infatuation, Sara could only be thankful. Perhaps her aunt was just beginning to realize her possibilities, taking control of her own life for the first time in years.

  It was a pity Sara couldn’t do the same. Frowning, she wondered yet again what had happened to Nick. She was tired of waiting, of wondering where he was and when he’d contact her. Her gaze drifted toward the secretary and rested on the inkpot. Within moments, Sara’s quill scratched across a missive addressed to the less-than-honorable Earl of Bridgeton.

  “Hopkins will tell,” Anna said in a low voice.

  Sara glanced at the coachman’s narrow back where he sat perched in front of the landau, his gnarled hands clenched about the reins. “Let him. I’m not doing anything improper.” Not yet, anyway.

  “Sara, you invited a man—a dissolute rake—to secretly meet you in the park. You have to admit that’s a bit reprehensible.”

  “Nonsense,” Sara said heartily. “All I’m going to do is speak with him for a moment. Surely there’s no harm in that.” If he even comes.

  At her directions, Hopkins pulled the landau to a stop in front of a small clearing. Sara nervously rubbed her gloved hands on her knees and wondered if she should dismount. She didn’t want to appear too eager, but by the same token, she and Nick had a bargain, and she was determined he was going to live up to it.

  The sound of a lone horse cantering closer made her heart leap into her throat. Nick’s tall form came into view, and it was difficult for her not to stare. No man rode a horse so well, nor looked so dashing while doing it.

  When he got closer she noticed that he appeared pale, his eyes heavily set, his mouth deeply lined. Her mouth tightened at the sight—she’d seen just such signs on Julius after a night of debauchery. She didn’t know why it mattered, but it hurt that he would come to see her after a night of carousing.

  Worse was the fact that his wan appearance only increased his handsomeness, the pallor complementing his blond good looks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

  He approached the landau and pulled up, tipping his hat as he did so.

  She jutted out her chin. “What did you do last night? You look horrible.”

  “Sara!” Anna said, her face as pink as the rosettes on the collar of her pelisse.

  But Nick appeared amused. His gaze flickered over her, a wry smile touching his lips. “I’ve been ill.”

  “Perhaps you should leave the wine to those who are more used to it.”

  “Oh, I’m used to it, sweet. Never doubt that. Now, do you wish to sit there and berate me, or would you like to take a walk? We have unfinished business, you and I.”

  Sara winced as Hopkins gasped in surprise. “Couldn’t you be a little more circumspect?” she asked under her breath.

  “No,” he said in an equally low voice. “Not for what you have in mind.”

  “And just what do I have in mind?”

  He grinned, and her heart flipped over. “Lessons,” he said, the word a caress.

  It was a wonder she didn’t poof into a cloud of ash. He dismounted and looped his reins over the back of the landau, then returned to her side and opened the small door, holding out his hand to assist her.

  Sara hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Anna.

  “Afraid?” he asked softly.

  She was climbing out of the seat before the word faded into silence. By God, she’d not let him cow her. He reached for her as she hesitated on the last step of the carriage and she recklessly released her hold, hoping to reach the ground before he could touch her. She was successful only in losing her balance. As she spun around she came into contact with the warm wall of Nick’s chest, and his hands, the ones she’d so assiduously avoided, clasped about her waist.

  With his fingers burning through her clothing, a wild tingling raced through her. She was agonizingly aware of his chest against her back, of his thighs against her bottom.

  He set her away from him. “My, how graceful.”

  She shot him a baleful glare. Anna remained in her seat, staring rigidly ahead; Hopkins merely gaped.

  Sara cleared her throat. “I am going to speak with Lord Bridgeton in private. We will be sitting on that bench, in plain view. Hopkins, you stay w
ith Miss Thraxton.”

  The groom closed his mouth, a stubborn light in his eye. “I should go with you, my lady.”

  “And leave Miss Thraxton unattended? I think not. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  Nick took Sara’s arm and led her to the bench. It was well shaded, though directly in sight of the landau.

  Sara took a seat and looked up at Nick. “I am sorry to disturb you, but—”

  “I have discovered the man for your schemes.”

  She swallowed. “Already?”

  “When one knows what one is looking for, it is not so difficult.”

  “Who is he?”

  “All in good time, my dear. First, there is the little matter of a lesson.” His gaze locked on her mouth. “You cannot run with the wolves without knowing how to fight like one.”

  “I took care of Lord Hewlette.”

  “But not before he’d gotten far closer to you than you wished.” The sudden grimness in his voice made Sara pause.

  “Very well. But you mustn’t forget that Hopkins is watching us this very moment.”

  “Then we will have to leave. Give him a moment to doze.” Nick sent her a sardonic glance. “I’m surprised you didn’t invite your aunt and your brother along, too.”

  “Well, I like that! It isn’t my reputation I was worried about—it was yours. You are the one who wanted to remain scandal-free, not me.”

  That must have startled him, for he looked down at her for a long time. “Thank you.”

  His voice was low and sweet, and it unexpectedly made Sara want to weep. She cleared her throat. “It was no bother.” She looked back at him, curiously examining his expression. “What makes you so different from every other man I’ve ever met?”

  He didn’t ask her what she meant. It was one of the things she liked about him. He shrugged. “Life has never favored me.”

  “Ah, your mother.”

  He sent her a sharp glance. “What do you know about my mother?”

  “Only what Lady Birlington told me, and it was amazingly little.”

  “If she told you anything, it was too much.” He glanced at Hopkins and smiled. “Look. He is already beginning to nod off.”