A Stolen Season

by Gill, Tamara

  “We should leave.” Sarah turned and watched the dancers. Lady Patricia caught her eye, and Sarah couldn’t miss the smug smile her rival threw over his lordship’s shoulder. She turned back to Richard.

  “What’s wrong?” Richard asked.

  “They think I’m after him.”

  “Who?”

  Sarah inwardly cursed. “Lord Earnston. His mother and Lady Patricia both think I want to marry him. Stuff this need to be careful for a week or two. Make sure when I’m riding with the earl tomorrow morning that you get into his home and have a look about. The sooner we go home, the better.”

  Richard nodded. “And if I’m caught?”

  “You won’t be.” The music ended and Sarah watched as the dancers dispersed about the room. Lord Earnston bade a quick goodbye to Lady Patricia and departed her company.

  An inner voice cheered his action, but Sarah quickly silenced it. She was not permitted to dabble with him. He was a means to an end, and that was all.

  She would have to be more cunning if she wanted him to divulge the whereabouts of the mapping device. Cunning and creative — two words not normally associated with Sarah Baxter.

  • • •

  Eric leaned against a window frame and watched his mother storm across the room toward him. He stifled a look of annoyance. “Mother, what brings you to my side?”

  “Do not play coy with me, Eric. You know very well why I wished to speak to you.”

  “Enlighten me,” he said in a boorish tone meant to aggravate his maddening parent.

  “What are you playing at with that chit, Miss Baxter?”

  Eric glared at his parent. “You are overstepping your bounds, my lady.”

  “You are my son, and I may say and ask whatever I wish. Now, explain yourself.”

  “There is nothing to explain that warrants your attention.” Eric took a sip of his whisky. “And you are forgetting the fact I am not betrothed to another.”

  “But you will be.” His mother huffed beside him. “How can you do this to Patricia? Why, just the other day her mama spoke of the expected agreement between you two.”

  Eric couldn’t have put it better. Agreement would be the sum total of the feelings he and Patricia would share if they ever married. She was a lovely woman to look at, young and beautiful and in desperate need of a coronet. Eric wasn’t fool enough not to know what she sought in a marriage. It was a pity William had never seen through her false motives.

  “No one will tell me whom I marry, Mother, including you.” Eric met his mother’s heated gaze with one of his own. How she could even imagine him marrying the woman his brother loved was beyond him. He stemmed the urge to shudder.

  “Furthermore, what is this nonsense about riding in the park tomorrow? People will talk, Eric.”

  “Let them.” He shrugged. “A ride in the park does not ruin a reputation, Mother.” And there was no way he would miss riding with Miss Baxter.

  “I will not have it, Eric. I warn you now, keep up this foolishness, and I’ll never forgive you.”

  Eric bowed. “It seems we are in agreement.” With a stab of regret, he watched his mother storm away, the feathers atop her head flying around like a live bird. His mother was impossible, pigheaded, and downright vexing. Eric took a calming breath, and began searching the crowd for something to cheer him up, namely Miss Baxter. He spied her standing next to Lord Stanley.

  Eric studied her and wondered why Miss Baxter seemed different from the other women of his acquaintance. Why she fascinated him so. She dressed the same as other women. Was from a family of wealth and yet somewhere along her path to adulthood she’d blossomed into a woman of independent thought and ideals.

  Miss Baxter was a woman who didn’t follow society’s rules, having said herself she wasn’t looking for a husband. Which was agreeable with Eric as he wasn’t looking for a wife. Yet, underneath the nerves he was sure he brought forth in her was a lady with a lot more plans and opinions if only she’d open up to him. Miss Baxter was a delightful enigma and she had him enthralled.

  He glanced at her brother, standing beside her. Again, the siblings’ physical differences struck him. He frowned, but the puzzle wasn’t nearly as intriguing as the anticipation of his riding appointment in the morning. It could not come soon enough.

  Chapter Eight

  “Would you mind, Anita, if I walked outside for a moment? I’m feeling a little warm.”

  “Would you like me to join you?”

  “No,” Sarah said. “I need but a moment.” Sarah exited the room and welcomed the balmy night breeze. She walked to the edge of the terrace and noted lit lanterns throughout the garden.

  The houses in present day London no longer had such generous, beautiful landscapes. Land was a rare commodity and soon sold off to make way for more flats in the city. Sarah took a deep breath and the scent of sandalwood wafted across her senses.

  “It’s lovely to see you again, Miss Baxter.”

  She’d know that voice anywhere. Lord Earnston stood behind her — a dark, overbearing shadow that skittered delicious shivers down her spine.

  “Thank you.” He stepped beside her and the action afforded her a glimpse of his visage.

  “How did you fare after our ride this morning? Not too sore I hope,” he asked.

  Sarah smiled. “No. I am very well, thank you, my lord.” She took a calming breath. After spending a fantastic morning with this man, it was odd for her to be so nervous. Lord Earnston had opened up a little more about himself — his preference for country living over the capital, what plays at the theatre he enjoyed, and his political views. With every moment she spent in his company, Sarah liked him a little more.

  She studied him as he stood next to her, his formal attire giving a different appeal tonight to the one he wore this morning. Not that he wasn’t as devastating in buckskin breeches as he was in knee-high satin breeches. Both pants showed off his delectable toosh very well.

  Sarah leaned against the balustrade. What was it that made his lordship different to the many boyfriends she’d had in the past? Underneath the nineteenth century attire he was just a guy like any other. Yes, he was wealthy and titled, but still a man. And yet, when she had his attention, she commanded it wholly and he made her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

  He turned and looked over the garden and Sarah drank in his good looks. His chiseled cheeks and straight nose, lips that spoke with passion and thought. She wanted to kiss him and see what he was like. Sarah cleared her throat. “Beautiful garden, my lord. Are all London establishments so lucky to have an oasis in their backyard?”

  “Some, Miss Baxter.” He smiled. “Would you care for a stroll?”

  Sarah shook her head, confusion clouding her mind. The strong perfume of flowers surrounding the terrace tangled with his strong presence. This heady mixture was further weighted by the unnerving fact they were alone. Very alone. “I should not?”

  His lordship growled and pulled her into the grounds. “It is just a walk. I will not harm you, Miss Baxter.”

  “Very well,” she said.

  They ambled down the steps and walked along the gravel path and into the grounds as far as the lanterns’ glow stretched. Sarah stopped when the light gave way to shadow and sat at a stone bench just off the path. Lord Earnston followed her and sighed as he came to sit beside her.

  “I enjoyed our ride this morning, Miss Baxter. We should ride out together again.”

  Sarah crushed the image the word “ride” brought forth in her mind. She needed to get her mind out of the gutter. “I would like that, my lord. But I do not wish to cause trouble for you.”

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “I’m guessing you’re referring to my mother. No matter what her opinions and wishes are, my life is my own, and I’ll live it as I see fit, Miss Ba
xter.”

  “I do not doubt it. But I also believe your mother dislikes me, my lord.” Sarah turned toward him and again the seductive scent of sandalwood teased her senses. “I think she’s warning me off.”

  Lord Earnston met her gaze and Sarah’s stomach flipped. Everything about him was alluring and charming, and under a moonlit night it was hard to control the temptation to lean forward and taste those firm lips.

  “The question we should be asking is whether you’ll be scared off, Miss Baxter?”

  “I’m still sitting here, am I not?” Sarah asked.

  His eyes widened and time seemed to still about them. The sound of the festivities dimmed as all Sarah could hear was her own heart drumming. His lordship leaned in, gently brushed his lips against hers, and she was lost. It was wrong — so very, very wrong — and yet Sarah couldn’t form the words to halt where the slight contact was heading.

  His hands clasped her waist and pulled her against him. Sarah lifted her gaze to his eyes, sparkling in the moonlight and promising nights of pleasure should she only allow it.

  “Are you sure you wish to do this, Miss Baxter?”

  “Call me Sarah,” she replied before she threw her hands around his nape and pulled him down for a kiss. All thoughts of acting the debutante vanished when her lips touched his. Fire coursed through her veins as she gave into the kiss with abandon. His tongue danced with hers, sending her spiraling into a void of desire.

  He growled and Sarah shuffled closer. Needed to feel him, touch this compelling man who was kissing her senseless.

  No man had ever evoked such emotions from her before. Men normally ran a mile as soon as they found out what she did for a living. A boring archeologist wasn’t going to turn into a siren in bed. And the men who thought her job wonderful were usually so boring it was an effort to stay awake throughout dinner. Then there were the gold diggers after her family’s money. Although Lord Earnston didn’t know what she did for a living, he did find her interesting enough to want to see her again, which was more than she’d experienced before.

  His coat grazed her nipples, sending a dizzying sensation straight to her core. His hands ran down the back of her gown and his kiss changed. Gone was the possessive heat consuming her and in its place was warm seduction, an even more dangerous embrace. With every touch he bestowed, Sarah’s skin burned, and she gave herself over to him, not caring about anything other than Lord Earnston and every delicious sensation he evoked in her.

  He broke the kiss and pulled back, his heated gaze full of unvoiced questions and desires.

  “Do you intend to stop, my lord?” Sarah stroked his soft hair, allowed her hands to graze his jaw and touch him exactly as she’d fantasized a few moments before. Well, not exactly. Still, he kept her held hard against him, his arms in no way lessening their clasp.

  “No.”

  Sarah smiled and bit her lip at his deep, uneven response. A myriad of emotions crossed his lordship’s face, and he looked like a man who’d experienced a profound life-changing incident, one Sarah could easily identify with.

  If his kiss could so unsettle her, she hated to think what sleeping with Eric would do …

  She shivered.

  “You’re cold.” He stood and pulled off his jacket.

  Sarah allowed him to place the superfine garment over her shoulders. She pulled it closed with one hand and frowned at the heavy weight bumping against her thigh. Curious, she reached into his coat pocket, and wrapped her hand around the object to pull it out. Her heart raced and she blinked as she pulled out the entire reason for her presence in the nineteenth century.

  She could have won an Academy Award for her portrayal of a calm, merely curious lady with her ticket home nestling in her palm.

  Eric took the device and idly fiddled with it. “Strange, is it not?”

  The object’s silver casing caught the moonlight and Sarah fought not to simply snatch it from his fingers and run. So, his lordship carried it with him. No wonder they couldn’t find the damn thing.

  “You don’t know what it is?” she asked, gesturing toward the mapping device.

  Eric sighed. “No idea.” He slid a finger over the smooth metal, and shook his head. “But I believe William’s murderers do, and they want it back.”

  “May I take a closer look at it?” His lordship handed it over without qualm and Sarah frowned, torn over her next move. Could she run fast enough to get away without him catching her? She looked back toward the house and noted the distance. No. She’d never make it and should he catch her, he’d know she was to blame for his family’s tragedy.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said. The lie lodged in her throat, and Sarah hoped he wouldn’t suspect her eagerness.

  “It is one of my most cherished possessions.” Lord Earnston took it back, and Sarah felt panic rise within her. She had to get the object in her possession for just a few hours, long enough to escape. Could she cajole his lordship into giving it to her as a gift? Yet she was reluctant to use their kiss to manipulate him. Such a low, callous act was unthinkable.

  “Do you always carry it around with you?” she asked, reluctant to drop their conversation about the mapping device so soon.

  “I do,” he said. “When the murderers find the device, they’ll find me and my waiting retribution.”

  Sarah nodded, guilt clawing at her skin. “I hope you’re able to move forward with your life one day, my lord. You deserve to be happy.” Sarah kissed him quickly. She pulled his jacket from her shoulders and handed it back. “I think we should return before we’re missed, my lord.”

  Lord Earnston slipped on his jacket and placed the mapping device back in his pocket. “Yes, you’re right.” He took her hand and walked her back toward the terrace and the ball.

  Let the games begin …

  • • •

  The next morning, Eric sat in his library, his mind in a quandary, his body taut and unfulfilled. He gazed at the clock and debated if it was too early for a drink. He was thankful for the interruption when his library door opened and his butler, James, walked in.

  “My lord, Lord Mettleston to see you.”

  Thank God. He could use a diversion right now, not to mention a friend’s opinion.

  Eric poured two whiskies and returned to his desk as his friend strutted into the room.

  “Earnston, there’s talk of you, my good friend, all over town. And it’s not past morn,” Mettleston said without a word of hello.

  Eric choked on his drink. “What about?”

  Mettleston settled himself before the desk, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. “How you were seen following Miss Baxter into the garden.” Mettleston chuckled. “Care to enlighten me on the salacious details?”

  Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “If this blasted device,” he said, throwing the strange peculiar onto his desk, “had not distracted us, I would have pushed to see just how far Miss Baxter’s affections for me went.”

  Mettleston sat stunned, for once without a response.

  “I kissed her,” Eric said, “and I find myself wanting to do it again.” A smile formed on his lips at the memory. Had he kissed any of the other debutantes, they would have fluttered and fussed in their excitement. Not Sarah. She possessed a maturity about her he’d not seen before, not in women of her age in any case. He’d kissed her senseless, by God. She’d kissed him senseless, too, without dissembling into fits of the vapors or running to her brother demanding marriage.

  Eric leaned forward on his desk. “Well, say something. It isn’t like you to have no opinion.”

  Mettleston met his gaze. “What possessed you, man? She’s unmarried and a debutante. Her brother will have you leg shackled to her before you know it if you keep up such antics.” Mettleston took a sip of his drink. “Or he could take offense and you m
ay find yourself on a field of honor, looking down the barrel of a gun. And he’d have every right to shoot your scandalous arse, too. Unless of course you wish to marry her?”

  “It was only a kiss. I didn’t deflower her, Mettleston. And there were other couples walking the terrace and gardens. Just not where we were.” Eric sighed and slumped back into his chair. “I don’t know what’s possessed me. Whenever I’m around the chit I can’t control the need to touch her. Be near her. Listen to her.” Eric paused.

  Mettleston chuckled.

  “What?” Eric asked.

  “What indeed,” Mettleston said. “So, the high-in-the-instep Earl of Earnston has fallen for a woman. I must admit, I had not thought I’d ever see the day. Congratulations good man, when will you ask for her hand?”

  “Damnation! I have not fallen for her and I’m not marrying anyone, let alone Miss Baxter. And you’d be wise not to start any such rumors. Last night was a slip of etiquette, that is all. I like her and I believe the feeling is mutual. I like many women — it does not mean I’ll marry any of them. And in any case I never intend to marry, as you well know.”

  “I’m sure Lady Earnston would be happy to hear such words voiced aloud,” Mettleston said. “And yet my good friend, you seem to be a little conflicted with your feelings toward this woman.”

  Eric couldn’t meet the scrutiny of his friend’s laughing gaze. Besides, his mind was too busy recalling Sarah and her slim delectable body up against his.

  “Earnston, I am not going to ask what you are thinking. God knows I don’t want to know. But you had better be careful. Talk is rife of your infatuation with the girl. If you do not intend marriage, you had better cool your ardor. Go see Mae. She’ll set you to rights. And with any luck, put Miss Baxter out of your mind.”

  Eric gulped the last of the amber liquid and welcomed the burn down his throat. He doubted anyone other than Sarah would douse his desire for her. And now that he’d sampled her, he was not sure he had the strength to deny himself her affections. He wasn’t ready for marriage, but perhaps if he worded his proposition correctly, Miss Baxter may be open to other delightful interludes …