The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  She smiled to herself. She simply had to be patient. She was in unknown territory, but he was a good man, scrupulous to a fault. All would be well, she was sure of it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At six that evening, Sarah stood up from her stool and stretched like a cat. "Will you look at that. We've finished," she said with a delighted smile as she looked in each basket and found them all empty.

  "I'll go get supper."

  "That's fine, Jenny. You and Caleb can head off now. You've worked so hard, you deserve an early night. I'll get supper for us."

  "Are you sure, Miss?" Jenny asked.

  "It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

  She waved goodbye to them both, and then began to take all of their supplies back into the house.

  "What would you say to a ride before supper, Alexander?"

  "All right."

  She noted his unenthusiastic tone. "We don't have to if you don't want to."

  "No, I would enjoy it. But I smell a storm coming."

  "We won't stay out long, then."

  Sarah led him to the stables, and they saddled the horses together, him doing it by feel, and she checking his work to make sure everything was secure.

  "Very good. You're getting very skillful at so many things, it's a wonder."

  "I try hard. It's difficult, though, especially knowing most five-year-olds could do better than me," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

  She shook his arm. "I don't know any five-year-old who can saddle a horse, or spin as well as you have. Stop being so hard on yourself."

  "All right, I will try." He relaxed visibly. "Sorry to be so churlish."

  "You're in physical and mental anguish. I can't even imagine how difficult this must be for you. All I can say is, if you need me, you know I'm here to help you."

  "I know. And I'm grateful, even if I act like a moody brute at times."

  "How about we canter up?" she proposed in an effort to dispel the gloom of their conversation.

  "All right."

  Sarah and Alexander reached the top of the hill, where she described the scenery over in the next valley for him.

  "It sounds so lovely. I wish I could see it."

  "You will, Alexander. I feel sure of it. It just takes time. The doctor says there's nothing wrong with you."

  "Not my eyes, no," he said with snort of derision.

  "One day at a time, remember? And one night."

  "All right. I will try. It's the least I can do after you've been so patient with me."

  "It's my pleasure, all of it," Sarah said shyly.

  "Mine too," he admitted. "But we need to get back. That storm is definitely on its way."

  They were just starting to head back for the vicarage when the skies opened up. Within seconds they were both drenched, and the grass underfoot became slippery, the bridle path a stream of mud. They were about half way down when Alexander felt himself sliding forward over the neck of the horse.

  "Alexander! Hold on!"

  Sarah threw her arm out to try to halt him, but he went flying and landed with a huge splash straight in a viscous puddle. Fortunately he had not been going too fast.

  She jumped down off her mount and ran over to his prone form. "Alexander! Are you hurt?" she asked, clutching his chest and searching his arms and legs for any broken bones.

  "I think the only thing bruised is my dignity," he wheezed.

  She slipped one arm around his lean, hard body, and helped him up.

  "Can you walk?"

  He took a few tentative steps, and then nodded. "Nothing broken."

  "Here, we'll walk them both."

  He shook his head. Water droplets flew from his drenched hair. "It'll take ages to get back. I can try to get back on," he offered.

  "There's no point. I don't want to run the risk of you falling off again. You might really injure yourself next time. Come on, let's go before the storm worsens."

  She took the reins of both horses in one hand, and his arm in the other, and carefully led Alexander over the various obstacles on the path until at last they reached the bottom of the hill.

  They got back to the stables in record time, but were still soaked to the skin. They led the horses back into the stall, and she shook some oats into their feed troughs.

  They stood panting together for a few moments, dripping into the hay and flicking their streaming hair out of their eyes.

  Sarah said, "I'm going to go inside to put the boiler on for our baths. Can you manage the saddles and rubbing them down?"

  "I think so."

  "I won't be long," she promised.

  Sarah went inside and lit the fire under the boiler, then removed her soaking garments in the bathroom. She wrapped herself in a towel and went upstairs to get clean clothes for them both. She paused. It was evening. They could simply wear wrappers. She put out the clothes anyway in preparation for the morning, but put on her dressing gown and brought his also, and some blankets.

  After washing her hands carefully, she went into the kitchen. She put on some spilt pea soup to heat, and gathered together a tray of bread, cheese, beer, and apple crumble, which she took into the sitting room. She pulled up the wooden settle right to the stone hearth, and banked up the fire into a roaring blaze. Then she threw a cloak over her dressing gown and went back out to check on Alexander and the horses.

  "How are you managing?"

  "I think they're glad to be back home. So am I."

  "I'm sorry. I should have listened to you about the storm."

  "Not your fault. I enjoyed the ride."

  "Did you hurt yourself?"

  He tested his back and shoulders. "No, I think I'm all right. I just got winded, that's all."

  "Still, you're bound to be bruised."

  "I'll need to get Caleb to put some cream on me tomorrow."

  "I can do it tonight, if you like," she offered boldly.

  His mouth went dry. "Oh, no, that's fine."

  "I don't mind, honestly. In any case, you're going to need some help in the bathroom."

  "I can't ask you to-"

  "I'm happy to do it. You do trust me, don't you?" Sarah asked.

  "Yes, but you're-"

  "I know, a little shrinking violet."

  "A decent woman."

  She laughed. "I don't sound too decent at the moment, do I?"

  "It's fine, Sarah, really. I can manage."

  "We can put a cloth over you, and I've seen you in your drawers anyway. It's nothing to worry about."

  He slipped away from her, looking very uneasy. "We can talk about it later."

  Sarah, determined to help, decided she was going to do more than talk. But for the moment she simply asked, "Are you famished?"

  "Fairly hungry."

  "We'll eat in the sitting room, on the settle, then bathe."

  "Fine. Just let me know if I'm ruining the carpet."

  "I'm in my dressing gown and cloak. You'll be fine if you take your boots off as soon as we get in, and sit by the fire. The last thing we need is for you to take a chill."

  They finished tending to the horses and headed up the path to the house. She helped him off with his boots, and led him to the bathroom. Alexander stripped off his dripping jacket and waistcoat, and washed his hands.

  She brought him over to the settle and served his meal. With his dark hair plastered against his head and wrapped in a blanket, he looked like a small child. His rare golden eyes were the only part of his face which belied that impression, for instead of shining and lively, they were lifeless and flat.

  She hated the cruelty that had resulted in his condition, and longed to hold him to her heart and try to make his life better. With a new sense of power surging through her, she set about to do just that.

  She sat closer to him on the settle than was warranted, but he seemed to make no complaint. Soon his long hard leg was pressed up against the length of hers. Clad in only her soaking breeches, he was able to feel her long firm thigh
and calf, and had to admit he felt some acute stirrings of temptation.

  As soon as Alexander told her that he had had enough to eat, she got up to make coffee and clear away the meal. When she returned with the coffeepot and cups on a tray, she sat down close to him, and put her arm around him.

  "What's that for?" he asked softly, when she had placed a light kiss upon his cheek.

  "No reason. Lots of reasons? I don't know. A thank you for you being here with me. A thank you for helping with the shearing and the carding and spinning. Anything you wish."

  "Because we like each other?"

  "I'm not so sure about the word like. It's pretty timid."

  "Admire, then. Respect. Trust. Esteem," he supplied.

  "Because we're close friends, and would like to get even closer," she murmured.

  He swallowed hard. "Yes, that's a good way of putting it."

  She kissed him on the cheek again.

  "But Sarah, you know what I told you last night."

  "I did. And while I'm no expert, I would like to think there might be something that I can do to help. I mean, I know there are certain things that paid companions-"

  "Good God, what are you saying?" he exploded, leaping up from the settle.

  She caught his arm to stop him from stepping into the hearth. "I'm simply pointing out that what happens between a man and woman isn't just all the responsibility of the man. The couple can both enjoy and, um, participate, can they not? You don't have to be some great hero who sweeps me off my feet."

  "Hah! I can barely sit a horse," he gritted out.

  "Well, then, let's sweep each other off our feet."

  "Sarah, I don't think--"

  "That's right. Don't think, just feel," she urged.

  He let out a deep, heartfelt groan and pulled her to him at last. "I want to. The Lord knows how I want to. But--"

  "Then you shall. Come, my love."

  She took his unresisting hand and led him to the bathroom.

  She opened the hot and cold spigots, and the tub began to fill.

  "Really, I don't think you should-"

  Sarah stretched up and kissed him. His arms tightened around her, and his heart began to hammer in his chest.

  "I'm not sure about this," he whispered.

  "I am."

  He sighed and kissed her again. "All right, I'll surrender myself to your gentle ministrations."

  "I shall try to be tender, but you need to teach me, help me."

  "I'll do my best, though I know little enough myself apart from instinct. Now turn around for a minute."

  He reached over and turned off the taps. He stripped off and sat in the tub. He placed a small towel over his loins, and then said, "There. I think I'm ready."

  She turned and saw his back fully for the first time. It was crisscrossed with scars, and with one mark where a bullet had lodged itself in his shoulder. It was worse than she ever could have imagined. She felt almost sick looking at him, thinking what he had suffered. But without a moment's hesitation, which she was sure he would have sensed and taken umbrage at, she picked up the sponge and soap and began to lather him all over.

  She worked on him with her bare soapy hands, massaging his aching muscles, feeling to make sure that he didn't have any new wounds from his fall.

  "Gosh. Did you break this rib?"

  "Old injury. Fell out of a tree."

  "How old were you?" she asked in a casual tone.

  "About ten. Crooked collar bone too."

  "Yes, I see it. Nice tattoos, though. A lot smaller than my brother's and his friends."

  "Excuse me?" he gasped.

  She laughed to hear him sounding so shocked. "Sorry. It is not as bad as it sounds. They all tear their shirts off and show them on special occasions. We've walked in on them a few times."

  "We?"

  "Their wives and I. And Thomas's sister Elizabeth, who's a few years younger than me. A lovely girl."

  "Yes, my tattoos are smaller, and only the initials, because I found the whole process so painful."

  "I see." It was yet another piece of useful information from his past that had slipped out when he was relaxed and not trying too hard to remember.

  But Sarah was not so worried about his past at the moment as she was about the present, and the future. She was determined to try to take it into her own hands, literally as well as metaphorically.

  She worked her way down his back, and then down each of his arms. Next Sarah worked her way back up, and began to massage his neck, and the base of his head. She washed his hair, massaging his scalp until it tingled.

  "Good?" she whispered.

  "A dashed sight better than Caleb, that's for sure," he said with a wry smile. "He practically takes my skin off with that sponge."

  She giggled. "He means well."

  "I know. But you feel wonderful. Maybe too good."

  She laughed out loud in delight. "Is there such a thing?"

  "I don't know. I'm feeling a bit odd."

  "Your head, your back?"

  "Um, no, lower."

  She dipped her hands lower, bringing them around to soap his chest, and soon slipping them down his abdomen.

  He tried to grasp her hands, but her nimble fingers were working the most incredible magic on his long-untouched flesh. The barrier of the towel was the only thing which stopped her from moving even lower, but she sensed he was still not quite ready to trust her. She nuzzled his cheek with hers and planted a kiss near the corner of his mouth. It all felt so wonderful, so right.

  The nagging voice of her conscience had been quelled, at least for the moment. It was fine, only a bath. He couldn't hurt her. She was safe. She had wanted to touch him like that since the first night they had met, when she had looked at his tattoos. Why continue to lie to herself?

  While he relaxed in the tub, she grew more excited. Her eyes were continually drawn back to the secrets hidden under his towel. To the elegant curve of his buttocks as he leaned forward to be scrubbed. She found herself wanting to kiss the two dimples which indented his back. To suckle the nape of his neck, where his own unique woodsy smell seemed to radiate from, filling her to the brim with longing.

  He groaned. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Sarah, but-"

  "Just trust me. Calm yourself, and trust me."

  He lay back and released his grip on her wrists. She sat on the edge of the tub and lathered him with both hands. She moved down past the towel which concealed his most intimate parts to soap his legs and feet.

  It really was the most marvelous sensation, he thought, as he reached up to open the fastenings of her dressing gown to cup her full breast lightly.

  A little pant flew out of her. Then she exclaimed, "Oh, how sweet."

  "Sweet?" he echoed dryly, bristling once more.

  "Your foot."

  "Oh, that." He laughed in relief. "I forgot all about it."

  "I hadn't noticed before. It's cute. Hidden in between."

  "Anne Boleyn had six fingers on one hand and they planned to chop off her head for being a witch."

  "Well, that was if they couldn't get rid of her any other way. But the charge of treason worked. Don't worry, I won't accuse you of trying to practice witchcraft upon me."

  "I think it's you who are practicing it upon me, Sarah, my love."

  "Does this feel nice, then?"

  "It feels like magic," he admitted with a sigh, wiggling all eleven of his toes.

  He stroked both of her breasts gently in turn as she worked her way back up his legs. When Sarah got above his knees, she slid her thumbs between his legs, spreading them slightly so that she could get past the small towel he had draped over his loins. He tried to grab her wrist, but she was too fast for him. She flicked the towel aside with one hand, and stared.

  He was magnificent, there was no denying it. That part of him was a gorgeous as the rest of his body, all fine lines and silk over steel. He wasn't fully erect, but nor was he completely at rest.

  Reac
hing for his hand, she placed it and her own upon him lightly. He jumped and shivered.

  She marveled at her own boldness, but her heart surged with pride as she saw the effect of the gesture.