He had been by twice more over the course of last week, discussing business with her father and then spending time with her in the gardens, rambling on about his business ventures, much to her dismay. Though she continued to fight the feelings of attraction that came over her out of spite, she found herself beginning to look forward to his visits. At this moment he was in the house speaking with her father, more than likely boasting of his sexual conquests, as that is what men did, or so she had overheard when her mother’s friends whispered amongst each other concerning the actions of men.
Though she thought ill of James a majority of the time, she wondered if he had truly changed. Her mother had mentioned on more than one occasion that she felt he was genuine and that she had noticed the man taking long looks at Sarah when he thought no one was watching. And, according to her mother, his glances were looks of one who was in love.
Love. The word alone made her tremble. It had been so long since she suspected she was in love, she wondered if she truly knew what it was like.
She dared not ask her mother, fearing the stories her mother would share would take days to tell. So, instead, she continued her walks and thought on what she knew of love from her books. Great champions rescuing lovely maidens locked away in dungeons. Terrible pirates who were won over when the heroine won his heart. Dukes who fell in love with the beautiful peasant when she fell ill because she stood in the rain watching him through a window.
The path led to the small house in which Mildred and David lived, though Sarah had not set out to visit the woman. Mildred sat on a small wooden stool in front of a rough wooden table and looked up when she heard Sarah approach.
“Miss Sarah,” she said with a welcoming smile. “Please, come in and join me.”
Sarah nodded and went to sit on the stool on the other side of the table. She had been to the tiny abode many times, but after her journey to Weymouth, she now took a better look at her surroundings. The house had one room, which consisted of a corner with a bed covered in a quilt made of various swatches with a variety of patterns sewn together, two high-back chairs facing the now cold fireplace, a large round rug under them, a long counter with plates and bowls stacked in one corner, and the table with two stools on which Mildred sat at this moment.
“Perhaps you would feel more comfortable sitting in the chairs,” Mildred said.
Sarah glanced at the peas the woman was shelling. “No, this will be fine. But thank you.” How could she take the woman away from her work, a woman who had helped her on so many occasions that Sarah was sure she would have gone mad without her wise counsel. The stool was hard, and Sarah wondered, as she oftentimes did, how anyone could sit for an entire meal upon it. Whenever she sat for too long on one, her bottom was sore for hours after. However, it was worth the discomfort she would feel later having the opportunity to speak with Mildred.
“It is a lovely day, is it not?” Sarah said, drawing a smile from Mildred.
“Yes, it is. We’ve had no rain for a week, but I’ll bet we’ll see more soon.”
Sarah nodded. Of course, she cared little about the weather, but it gave her the opportunity to glance around. Seeing no one, she leaned in a little and lowered her voice. “I have a question and need your advice on a very important matter.”
Mildred shook her head. “I'm afraid I don't have much wisdom to give.” There was a bit of reluctance to her reply, or so Sarah imagined.
“Nonsense,” Sarah snapped. “I must ask, how did you know David loved you?”
Mildred stopped her shelling and stared off past Sarah. Sarah turned to see what could possibly have caught the woman’s attention, but nothing of interest was there. When she turned back around, Mildred had a vacant look on her face, and Sarah readied herself for what she knew would be a good story.
“David was a very handsome man back then,” Mildred said. “He was very…muscular, his chest and shoulders broad, because he worked in the coal mines. Even when his face and clothes were as black as night from the coal dust, the way he held that ax over his shoulder as he walked home…” She cleared her throat and shook her head.
Sarah could not picture David as a young handsome man. His middle was now broad, and she almost giggled as she wondered if that was where his chest and shoulders had fallen.
“Anyway, I would say it was…well…em…the look he gave me.”
This baffled Sarah. “The look?”
“Oh, yes. You could see it in his eyes, and then in his actions. It’s difficult to explain, but once you see it for yourself, you’ll understand.”
Sarah mulled over the words Mildred had shared. Perhaps the woman was speaking of the looks of which her mother spoke, the supposed fleeting glances she had seen.
Mildred patted Sarah’s hand. “Trust me, one day it will make sense.”
Sarah sniffed. “Though some may think me naive,” she whispered, “I know more about men than people realize.”
“Is that so?” Mildred said with a lift of an eyebrow.
“I do. They take a woman as a wife and then spend the first year traveling to produce more children with common women in celebration.”
At first Sarah thought Mildred laughed, but then realized as her hand came to her mouth that the poor woman was merely coughing.
Mildred cleared her throat and then said in a tight voice, “I see. And you are afraid James would do the same to you?”
Sarah nodded, letting out a sigh. Finally, someone who understood her concerns over this marriage! “I am certain of it. How did you manage to still love David after you wed knowing he was out doing such things?”
Mildred made a fist and held it up in front of her. “David would know better,” she said firmly. How the woman could speak thus with an amused smile on her face was mystifying.
“I am not strong in that way,” Sarah said. Mildred, of course, could take on just about any man with her hands, but Sarah could not even imagine doing such a thing—unless it was absolutely necessary, of course.
“But you are strong in heart and mind,” Mildred replied with a soft voice. “Though what you say might be true for some men, there are many who are not like that.”
“Really?” Sarah said with astonishment. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying such things only to see me broken-hearted later?” Mildred did have a way of weaving tall tales. Why would this occasion be any different?
“Not at all,” Mildred said with a sniff as she rose from her stool and collected the empty pea pods in her apron. “He is a good man, Miss Sarah.” She nodded towards the open door that led to the path on which Sarah had entered. Just like out of one her stories she had read, James came walking up, a smile on his face.
Heat rushed through her body as she looked at the waves in his dark hair, the sun lighting up his dark brown eyes as he approached. His white shirt held perfectly across his chest, the broad torso as strong as the jaw on his face. She tried to speak but could not, her throat was that dry. Mildred said something, though Sarah could not make out the words. Then the woman was gone, leaving her alone with James.
When he spoke, her hearing returned, his voice rescuing her from her paralysis. “How are you this fine day?” he asked.
“I am well,” Sarah replied through a tongue so thick she wondered how she was able to produce any sounds beyond a grunt.
The walls began to close in around her, and she moved to the doorway for air. “Shall we walk?” she asked, her words much clearer now that there was air to breathe. The sooner he left, the better. If he was making it difficult for her to breathe, she would certainly die being married to him.
They walked along without speaking, and Sarah thought she would go mad from the silence that hung around them. Even the birds had ceased their singing, and the air lacked any sort of movement that would typically rustle leaves. Instead, the only sounds were their footsteps as they walked and the light movement of her skirts.
When she could no longer stand the quiet, she said, “It seems as if t
he last few times you have visited me, you have spoken so much, I wonder if you even take time to breathe. Why are you so quiet today?”
He laughed. “I have come to realize that I bore you, so perhaps it is best if I remain quiet so as not to draw your wrath.”
They approached the stables, the smell of horse flesh permeating the air. Many women found those odors appalling, but they reminded Sarah of Molly and freedom from the expectations heaped upon her.
Much to her dismay, Sarah found herself smiling at his words. “I do enjoy some of your stories,” she said, then quickly added. “I do mean some. Many are quite boring and I find myself dozing off as you tell them.” She walked over to Molly, letting her hand roam over the old mare with a smile on her face.
“Which ones do you like the best?”
“Your adventures are somewhat amusing. Why not share one now?”
“I would like to hear a story from you today,” he said as he leaned against one of the stalls. “Though you were only in Weymouth a few days, I am sure you have a story or two to tell. That is, if you do not mind telling me, of course.”
His words caught her off-guard. He wanted to hear her tell of her adventures there, but there was nothing exciting to be told, nothing compared to his tales of riding the high seas and visiting exotic places like India. But this was an opportunity to impress him. And perhaps to see if he really cared for her. So, she readied herself by beginning the pacing that always accompanied her best stories.
“Well, that first night, the pub had many more patrons that it had seen in many years, or so I was told,” she began, placing her hands behind her back.
“Is that so?”
She shot him a cold stare, and he returned an amused smile as he held up an apologetic hand for interrupting her. Then she resumed her pacing, the straw beneath her slippers crackling.
“You see, when I had first arrived, the pub was so empty, my voice echoed against the walls. However, word quickly spread that a lady of the gentry was there, and men rushed in to see me. This was not a good thing, you see.”
Sarah glanced over and saw James bring his fingers to his chin. “How could it possibly be a bad thing to fill the place full of patrons. Surely the owner was pleased with the business?”
“He was at first, but then the men grew unruly as they fought to have a gaze at me. He said he have never seen anything like it, nor had I. They were barbaric, their cruelty amongst them unmeasurable.” She shook her head as if the idea were unbelievable. “And all so they could look upon a lady.”
“I could not imagine,” James said. Did he chuckle? “How was order restored among such animalistic ways?”
Sarah sighed in frustration. Would the man ever let her speak? “I was getting to that before you interrupted.”
“I do apologize. Please, continue.”
Sarah was unsure how to react to the twinkle in the man’s eye. All she could do was continue. “I knew there was only one thing that would calm them down,” she said, resuming her pacing. “Though many of them were handsome, their chests broad, their mannerisms near perfect, they were men after all.”
James gave a slight nod. “We do tend to be on the barbaric side most of the time, I do agree.”
“I am glad you finally see your own faults,” Sarah replied. This was progress. Perhaps the story was doing some good after all. “As I said, the men continued to become more and more aggressive, and more childish, so I grabbed a man by his hand, pulled him towards me like this,” —she reached her arms out and acted as though she had a hold of a man— “then pressed my lips to his.”
“I see,” James said, seemingly enthralled with her story, though his eyes still twinkled and his lips trembled slightly. Perhaps he had a strange malady that caused him to suffer from trimmers of which she was unaware. “Then what happened?”
“He was smitten with love, of course, stumbling away until he fell over a table. So, I grabbed the next man and kissed his lips as well. For the next hour, I kissed every man in the room and finally peace was returned to the pub.” So proud of her story was she that she almost took a bow but stopped herself just in time. Yes, she had changed the story slightly, but it did put her in the better light than the truth. Instead of bowing, she stopped just in front of James and waited to gauge his reaction to her tale.
However, as she gazed into his eyes, she found herself leaning forward. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss him, to allow his arms to hold her, possess her. Her breathing became short and her body was on fire as she whispered, “So, now you know my tale. You may want to reconsider this notion of taking me as your wife. Surely such a scandal would ruin your name for three generations.”
He dropped his hand from his chin, revealing the most handsome face she had ever seen. How could she have missed it in all this time they had spent together?
“To have the experience those men had, I would have my name ruined ten times over for that one chance,” he said.
His soothing voice drew her closer, and Sarah swallowed hard as she tried to add moisture to her throat. She leaned in further, her heart racing, her lips parting for his. She could feel his breath mixing with hers, and she tilted her head ever so slightly and closed her eyes.
Then the sound of footsteps came to her ears from around the corner, and both she and James took two steps back and turned just in time to see Mildred enter the stables. She nodded, rushed to a corner and grabbed a tool, and then hurried back out without a single word.
However, despite the quickness with which Mildred moved, the moment was now gone.
“The next time I visit, I propose we do something different,” James said, his voice strangely scratchy, “something I would like very much.”
“And what is that?” She wondered at the hoarseness of her own voice.
“Let us go for a ride in the countryside like we did when we were young.”
Sarah took a slow, measured breath and then let it out slowly. Her heart was racing, and though it was an activity she would greatly enjoy, she preferred if he knew not how happy it would make her. Though the thought only brought her the slightest of pleasure where it had been extremely pleasant before.
When she did not respond, he added, “Our time together is running out, and if I am never to see you again, a memory of riding with you would be something I would like to take with me.”
His words went straight to her heart, and emotions swirled as she tried to find words in which to speak. She imagined them riding side by side at their leisure, and this time under better circumstances than when he had brought her back home from Weymouth. It was something she wanted as much as he.
“I-I will think on it,” she stammered, her mind and body still on the lost kiss. Now that would be with her for a very long time. “Good day to you.” She hurried out of the stables and moved down the path, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from this man as she could be and not see him anymore. Yet, now it was not his ability to drive her to anger that caused her desire to distance herself from him, but how he was now driving her mad with an emotion she could not ignore, one that was reserved for her prince that was to come and rescue her.
And that emotion was called Love.
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah stood with her mother not far from the stables as James and her father saw to the horses. This was the day that she and James would go riding together, and her mother was beside herself with anxiety. Although her mother was happy that the two would be spending time together, she had said as much, she also feared the fact that they would be out unchaperoned.
“I do not need to tell you to act in a respectful manner on this outing of yours,” Mrs. Crombly said in a low hiss.
“No, there is no need to remind me,” Sarah sighed. “I am quite capable of restraining my lust for him, though it will be difficult I must admit.”
This brought on a satisfying gasp from her mother. “There is no need for such rebellion, Sarah,” she bristled. “I am you
r mother, and in being so, it is my responsibility to keep watch over you. In my day, a woman would never go riding with a man who was not her husband, even if they were engaged, without proper escort. I will not have tongues wagging because my daughter has acted in a wanton fashion, with a Duke no less!”
Sarah almost laughed but stopped short when James and her father led the horses from the stables and walked them up to stand in front of the women. Mr. Crombly held Thunder’s reins as James held Molly’s. He gave a stiff bow to Sarah’s mother, who returned it with a small curtsy.
Sarah grimaced at his offered hand with an audible sniff, ready to tell him that she could mount her horse without his aid, but when she saw the anxious look on her mother’s face, she changed her mind.
“Always the gentleman,” she said instead, which only deepened the look on her mother’s face. Sarah wanted to laugh at the absurdness. This is what her parents wanted, so why did the woman insist on complaining. A moment later, Sarah was atop Molly, her leg comfortably secured over the pommel of the saddle as she swiped at her riding skirts in an attempt to remove the lovely feeling of his hand holding hers.
A moment later, James mounted Thunder and accepted the basket Mr. Crombly offered him, which he tied to back of his saddle.
“Now, mind the weather,” Mr. Crombly said. “It looks as if rain is on the way.” Her father had always been obsessed with predicting the weather. Sometimes he guessed correctly, but oftentimes his predictions were quite wrong. Today was more than likely the latter, as several gray clouds floated to the south but the rest of the sky was clear and blue.
The Duke's Wager: Defiant Brides Book 1 Page 13
