by Gill, Tamara
Sarah choked on her sip. She placed her cup down and tried to pull herself together. Embarrassment swamped her as Lady Rose patted her back.
“Oh, my dear, are you alright?”
Sarah nodded, not sure it was quite safe enough to answer the question. Her eyes watered, blurring the room until it resembled a watercolor painting.
“Now I may be old,” Lady Rose continued. “But I’m sure if anyone could tell a man in love, it would be the woman receiving the affection. Don’t you agree?”
Sarah flushed. “I do believe you may be correct, my lady.”
Lady Rose clapped her hands. “I always am, my dear, and I apologize if my forward manner of speaking makes you nervous. When I was your age I was the same way. But with the passing of time, you learn to say and do whatever you like while there’s still time. So let me assure you, Sarah, my grandson would never allow himself to fall into a situation which could be misconstrued later.”
Lady Rose patted her hand. “Now tell me Sarah, what is your brother’s title? If he has one, of course.”
Sarah swallowed hard and refused the tears which threatened to topple over and down her cheek. “He’s a baron, my lady.” Another lie, another prick of guilt to add to her conscience.
Lady Rose smiled. “Well there, you see, if your social situation was worrying you, it should not. I myself am a baron’s daughter. No lofty titles whatsoever in my family, either, and I still married an earl.” Her ladyship’s face clouded in some blissful remembrance. “A wonderful man, strong of character and heart, and his grandson is just like him.”
Sarah sat back and sipped the lukewarm cup of tea. She thought of Eric’s proposal, of how she would have loved to say yes. It was such a hopeless situation and yet their attraction to one another was impossible to ignore.
The door opened and Sarah smiled, relieved, when Anita walked into the room.
“There you are, Sarah. I have been looking for you everywhere.” Anita came forward, and her step faltered. “Grandmother, I didn’t know you had arrived. Welcome home.” Anita gave her grandmother a kiss and plopped onto a nearby settee.
“I only arrived today, darling. I was just having a cozy tête-à-tête with Miss Baxter.” Lady Rose smiled at Sarah.
Anita poured herself a cup of tea and sat back.
“Well, my dear, are you going to tell us what entertainments you have planned?” Lady Rose asked.
“Tomorrow we’re going out in the carriages to pick strawberries.” Anita turned to her. “You see, Sarah, strawberries are Lord Kentum’s favorite fruit. And since he has to go away tomorrow for a day or two, I thought I’d surprise him with a treat when he returned.”
Sarah smiled, inwardly amused such a simple outing of strawberry picking could cause such excitement. How things had changed. The closest to strawberry picking Sarah had ever come close to was deciding which punnet to buy in the supermarket.
“It sounds like a wonderful idea,” Sarah said.
“What is a wonderful idea?” Eric asked, coming into the room. He stood behind Sarah and a prickling of responsiveness ran through her.
“We’re going strawberry picking tomorrow, Eric. Can you send word to the stables and make sure everything is ready after breakfast? I think it best we leave before it gets too warm.” Anita took one last sip of her tea and stood. “Well, I must dash. Lady Patricia has picked out the most ghastly music for my betrothal ball, and I’m afraid I must say no.”
Sarah watched her leave. So, Anita, Lady Rose, and Eric all thought her the perfect woman for him. Had she not entered his life under such heinous circumstances and with criminal intent, she would be entitled to think the same.
But she could not.
• • •
When she was sure no one was watching, Sarah stepped out onto the terrace. Dinner had gone well, if one could describe success as dodging barbs from Eric’s mother.
She walked along the flagstone patio and breathed in the fragrant night air. The gardens lay dark and mysterious while the house shone like a pillar of light.
At the sound of whispered voices Sarah slowed her steps. She peeked around an ivy clad window and saw Lady Earnston and Lady Meyers, Patricia’s mother, in the library.
Sarah looked around to ensure she was alone then leaned closer to hear what they were saying. She froze, shocked by what she heard.
“Did you see her in London dancing attendance on Lord Dean, Lady Meyers? The little Baxter minx probably doesn’t know she will have to wait a few years before she can wear the ducal diamonds, since the boy’s grandfather is still alive. It makes me serenely pleased she may be our age before coming into the title.”
Sarah reeled at the venomous tone. She knew Lady Earnston disliked her and saw her as a threat to Lady Patricia, but such abhorrence?
“Obviously a mere earl wasn’t good enough for that social climbing trollop. Not,” Lady Earnston said, whispering, “that I mind. I would refuse to accept her as the future Countess of Earnston in any case.”
Lady Meyers gasped in horror, as if nothing could be worse in the world.
“Did you see how she threw herself at Eric at the Cottlestones’ ball? She practically stroked him on the ballroom floor. It’s any wonder your dear boy was mesmerized. He probably couldn’t walk when he finished the dance.”
Lady Earnston muttered angrily, her outrage clear, and then her eyes narrowed as sharp as a knife. “Well, I’m relieved to see he seems to be over his bout of desire for the woman,” Lady Earnston replied. “He seems smitten by Patricia, if dinner is anything to go by. I believe this little fixation on Miss Baxter is finished. I’m sure he only invited her down here because Anita has befriended her. Trust me when I say it will be only weeks before we’re placing a betrothal announcement in the papers.”
“I do hope so,” Lady Meyers eagerly replied.
Anger coiled like a snake in Sarah’s stomach. How dare they speak about her in such a way? She had done nothing but act a lady since entering their world. Granted, she had allowed Eric privileges, but they did not know that. And as for Eric bestowing favor toward Lady Patricia, what a load of bull. He had asked after her day at dinner. Last time Sarah checked such a question did not lead to marriage or insinuate undying love.
She stormed back toward the downstairs parlor, then stopped. What was she doing? She couldn’t go inside and give the high and mighty countess a public set down. And what was the point if she did? She was playing Eric. Using him to secure the device.
Wasn’t she?
Pain tore through her breast causing Sarah to crumble onto a stone bench. Who was she kidding, other than herself? For a few weeks now, Sarah had experienced a strange blossoming in her heart — a feeling she’d never had before.
Eric had long ago stopped being a means to an end. He was the reason she eagerly attended every ball, the reason she got out of bed each morning, and the reason she no longer wanted to leave this time.
Sarah cursed at her weakness and silently apologized to Richard. Truthfully, she could have stolen the device on a number of occasions. But she had not. For the simple reason she didn’t want to leave him.
She loved him.
Sarah swiped at her eyes. What a pickle she’d made of things. Again.
Chapter Sixteen
The array of carriages were loaded with picnic baskets and blankets. The few family members and select friends already at the estate walked about, eager for the outing to begin.
Sarah spied Eric checking over the carriages and chatting with his guests. She took in his tight skin breeches, shirt, and loosely tied cravat and yearned to stroll over and kiss him good morning.
“I’m going to stay behind, Sarah,” Richard said, startling her. He lowered his voice. “It will give me an opportunity if you understand my meaning.”
“He carr
ies the device, Richard. It won’t be in the house,” she said, her voice sharp.
“I’m staying in any case. I’ve already asked his lordship if I could have use of his desk in the library, and he agreed.”
Sarah bit her lip and frowned. “Don’t get caught, whatever you do. And be more careful this time; leave nothing out of place.” She waved to Anita who gestured for her to come.
“Don’t worry about me.” Richard looked up at the sky and Sarah followed his gaze. “I don’t know how long you’ll be out picking strawberries, but by the look of that storm coming in, it won’t be long.”
“Perhaps it will go around us. Either way, the carriages all have hoods, we’ll be fine.” She moved off the steps and started to walk toward the vehicles. “I’ll see you later, Richard,” she yelled over her shoulder. Sarah walked up to Eric. “Which carriage am I to travel in, my lord?”
Eric smiled down at her and fleetingly touched her hand. “You’ll ride with me and Grandmamma, Miss Baxter. Come,” he said, leading her to where Lady Rose already sat in an enclosed coach.
Disappointment that she would miss traveling in the open roofed vehicles assailed her. “Why are we not traveling in one of those carriages, my lord?” Sarah asked, nodding toward the line behind theirs.
“I thought it best for Grandmamma, but you are more than welcome to travel with Anita if you wish.”
As if she’d leave his side, even for her friend. Besides, Lady Earnston had crammed in beside Anita. “No, that’s fine. I’ll travel with you, my lord,” Sarah said coolly.
Eric grinned and helped her into the carriage.
They traveled for nearly an hour before stopping in a field full of strawberry plants, the little red fruit bursting to be picked. Sarah had to admit, as simple as the outing was, it was still immense fun. Until those overcast clouds turned more ominous, and a fat, wet plop of rain landed on her cheek.
They had barely packed up the carriages when lightning flashed and thunder boomed, sending some of the ladies into a fit of panic. Sarah watched as Eric took charge of the scene, hurrying everyone into their coaches so the party could head out of the weather.
“We need to leave now,” he said to their driver. “The weather is coming from the east, and the small creek we crossed earlier is prone to flooding. If we don’t cross it soon, we’ll not make it home tonight.”
Lady Rose looked pale and Sarah clasped her hand. The storm did seem to become more ferocious by the minute, but it was only a rainstorm, after all. On the other hand, it was enough to scare the other women in the group witless.
Eric met her gaze and entered the carriage just as the rain started to come down in torrential form. The coachman hollered to the horses and they were off.
They made good time, considering the weather, but at the first profanity from the driver, Eric jumped out. His curse was audible and he leaned back into the carriage, clasping his grandmother’s hand.
“Grandmamma, the brook is coming down, and we need to get you home. The water is not too deep at the moment, but we have time for only one more carriage to cross safely. I’m going to transfer you into the front carriage.”
“But what of Sarah? I cannot leave her here unchaperoned. What will her brother say?”
Eric cringed. “There is only room enough for one person, Grandmamma.” A pained expression crossed his face. “With your health, I cannot allow you to stay.”
Sarah nodded. “He’s right, Lady Rose. You must go. Tell Richard I’m fine and will be home as soon as the water level drops. I’m sure it won’t be too long.”
Lady Rose grumbled. “You know what this will mean, Eric.”
Eric lifted her from the carriage and carried her to the other vehicle. “I know,” he said.
Sarah grabbed an umbrella beside her seat and followed. She gasped at the chilling wind and the swirling river before them. The small tinkling stream they crossed this morning was now a fast flowing, murky waterway like the Thames.
“My lord, are you sure it’s safe for another carriage? The water looks awfully dangerous,” Sarah said, watching him as he placed his grandmother in the waiting carriage.
“I know the levels, Miss Baxter, and when they’re not passable. We still have time.” Eric called out to the driver and the carriage moved off.
The horses pranced as their hooves touched the chilling water, but they stepped in and began wading across. The ladies screamed as one horse lost its footing, the carriage shifting sideways a little. Their coachman ran into the river and waded out to the terrified horse. He clasped its reins and helped guide it to the other side. Sarah sighed her relief when the carriage climbed the opposite embankment, the ladies soaking wet yet out of harms way.
“Sarah, I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad everyone is safe.” They walked back to the horses, and Eric led them off the road, away from the rising river. He unhitched the team and tied them to a nearby tree before returning to the coach.
“Best I think not to have them hitched. The horses could bolt at any moment with this lightening around.”
Sarah nodded and stepped into the carriage. Eric followed her, his clothing as soaked as her own. “How long do you think we’ll be stuck this side of the river?”
Eric shrugged. “These creeks fall as quickly as they rise. I would think by tomorrow morning it will be passable.”
The wind howled outside and the carriage rocked. Sarah shivered and rubbed her bare arms.
“You’re cold,” Eric pulled a carriage blanket out and came and sat beside her.
Sarah welcomed the blanket’s warmth as he placed it about her shoulders and rubbed her back.
“Better?” he asked.
Sarah nodded. “Much, thank you. But what about you?”
“I’ll be fine,” Eric replied, despite the fact his voice shook as he spoke.
Sarah looked up at him and noticed his blue lips. “Take off your clothes, Eric. You’ll die of pneumonia if you stay in those wet garments.”
“I think not, Miss Baxter.”
Sarah cursed and started to untie his cravat to strip away the soaked clothing. His skin was chillingly cold. “You won’t die or you won’t take off your clothes? Either way, I’ll not have you die of a cold.” Sarah fought the fear that rose over the thought. Yet, people in this time died of such trifling illnesses all the time. She stilled her ministrations when his finger wiped a droplet of water from her nose.
“I’m feeling decidedly warm already, Miss Baxter. Pray continue.”
Sarah sat back and realized she was no longer feeling as cold, either. “You’re incorrigible, my lord.” She chuckled.
Eric smiled. “A rake’s trait.”
The urge to kiss him, to succumb to this desperate need blossoming between them was too great to resist. Sarah clasped the lapels of his coat and pushed them from his shoulders. Fire ignited in her core and her body burned to be close to him. To feel his skin against hers. His heat. His heart.
She yanked the cravat from his neck and ripped open his shirt buttons while Eric untied the back of her gown. He pushed the soaked material from her shoulders and the chill afternoon air kissed her skin.
Sarah broke the kiss and looked down at the light shift all but separating her body from complete nakedness. She pulled at the ties and let the garment gape at her chest, careful not to expose her scarred arm.
Eric met her gaze, his breathing as rapid as her own. His gaze scorched her, as his hand slid over her waist to cup her breasts. Sarah bit her lip and prayed for patience.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. Eric pulled her against him and took her lips in a searing embrace. Sarah wondered if it would always be like this between them. As if they could never get enough, be close enough, to one another.
Eric gras
ped her hips and lifted her onto his lap. His hands traveled down the back of her legs, and pulled the dress along with them. Sarah wiggled off and stood as best she could to step out of her gown altogether.
She watched as Eric as ran a hand through his hair. “Are you not going to do the same, my lord?”
Eric leaned against the squabs and pulled off his breeches. Sarah took a calming breath when he threw his shirt across to the opposite seat. His chiseled chest, the six pack abs leading down to his hard, engorged heat now noticeably jutting against his stomach made her quake. Sarah licked her lips and straddled his legs, the cool velvet seat soft beneath her knees.
Eric gasped when she rocked against his rigid flesh. His hands bit into her hips and Sarah lifted off him before impaling herself on his manhood.
His cry broke free at the contact. He was so warm, so amazing, and so good. The fact she loved him seemed to heighten the experience, make everything more … more everything.
Eric growled and kissed her neck and Sarah rasped her fingers through his hair.
“I love you, Sarah.”
Eric’s declaration. His plea tore at her heart. I love you, too, she whispered in her mind. More than any words or actions could ever say. Yet, Sarah remained silent.
Eric sighed, a sound close to pain and laid his head against the squabs. Sarah kissed his ear, and he moaned, a sound she could never get tired of.
“Yes,” he said, his hands running up her back.
Need roared between them and their joining became frantic. The carriage rocked beneath them and the storm outside, the rising river fell away, forgotten, as they pushed each other to the brink of bliss.
Eric drove forcefully into her, and she moaned. The delicious slide to orgasm came quickly, and Sarah clasped his shoulders as she leaned back while her release overtook her.
Distantly she heard herself moan his name before he, too, fell over the edge and tumbled with her into bliss.
Eric pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. “You’re a remarkable woman,” he said, pulling the blanket about her shoulders.
