‘Was it not fine? You look so lovely, Sarah…And the candles and the greenery—such a beautiful alternative to flowers…’
Sarah listened, and smiled and answered, and all the time she was aware of Guy’s gaze resting on her. She felt his glance like a physical touch brushing her skin and making it seem curiously sensitive. The faint smile was still on his lips; when Guy’s eyes met hers, she saw a flash of heat in his that completely flustered her. She lost the thread of what she had been saying to Olivia and fell silent. Guy’s smile broadened slightly.
It was extraordinary. She could not understand it. Sarah frowned as she tried to make sense of this latest mystery. The last time she had seen Guy had been across the room at dinner the previous evening. He had ignored her, as had become his wont. Then, later, he had sought her out to speak with her—too late, for his mother had turned him away and they had not met again until they were in church…And now, mysteriously, his coldness had been banished by a warmth that threatened to be her undoing. He was treating her with an ardent attention that reminded Sarah of when they had first met. It was entirely appropriate for a bridegroom, but it was also deeply disturbing.
The carriage had completed the short journey from the church to the house, and Sarah gathered up her skirts in one hand as she prepared to step down. Guy was too quick for her. He swept her up in his arms, carried her over the threshold and put her down in the hall to a round of applause from the assembled guests. He was laughing as he took the congratulations of his friends. Sarah caught Amelia’s arm.
‘Milly, pray step aside with me for a moment—’
Amelia turned questioning eyes on her cousin. ‘Sarah? Are you quite well?’
‘Yes.’ Sarah’s grip tightened urgently. ‘Quickly, before Guy sees—’
They slipped away to the ladies’ withdrawing-room.
‘What has happened?’ Sarah lamented, viewing her fearful face in the pier glass whilst Amelia helped her adjust her gown and pinned the silver coronet more securely on her curls. ‘Yesterday he would not even speak to me, yet now—’
‘The little coronet was a good idea,’ Amelia murmured, tweaking a curl into place. Sarah pulled her head away.
‘Are you listening to me, Milly?’
‘Yes, of course,’ her cousin spoke soothingly. ‘I only wished to compliment Lady Woodallan on recommending the coronet instead of a wreath of flowers, for in winter—’
‘Yes, yes!’ Sarah said impatiently. ‘But what about Guy’s behaviour—?’
The door opened and Sarah turned, expecting to see her mother-in-law come to summon them to the wedding breakfast. It was her husband who stood in the doorway. Their eyes met, Sarah’s apprehensive, Guy’s glittering with an emotion that set her pulse awry.
‘Lady Amelia,’ he drawled, ‘I would be obliged…’
Amelia, accurately reading the instruction implicit in the tilt of Guy’s head, smiled and started to walk towards the door. Sarah grabbed her arm, wondering if there was some sort of conspiracy going on.
‘Milly, don’t go!’
‘Don’t be foolish, Sarah!’ Amelia gave Guy a conspiratorial smile and edged out, closing the door very deliberately.
Sarah, suddenly overcome with panic, turned away. She could see Guy’s reflection in the mirror as he came across the room towards her.
‘I imagine the others are waiting for us—’
‘They can wait a little longer. Sarah—’ Guy pulled her round to face him. ‘I do need most urgently to speak with you…’
Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘On what matter, my lord?’
‘Don’t look like that,’ Guy said raggedly. ‘Damnation, this is enough to try the patience of a saint!’
He took hold of Sarah’s upper arms and pulled her to him, his mouth hard on hers. Sarah’s lips parted instinctively and she drew closer to him, sliding her arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, desire spinning up to engulf them.
The door opened.
‘Guy,’ the Countess’s voice said, a little plaintively, ‘your guests are hungry! There will be plenty of time for that later—’
Guy let Sarah go and she heard him swear under his breath. ‘Very well, Mama. We will be with you directly.’
‘Now!’ the Countess said inexorably. She bustled forward to rearrange the lace dress that had once more become disarranged. Sarah knew that she looked ruffled and rosy as they rejoined the wedding guests, and knew also exactly what they were thinking. Her mind was in complete confusion. All she seemed able to concentrate on was the fact that Guy had something to say to her and that she was as devastatingly aware of him as she had been that morning at Blanchland.
The wedding feast was long and complicated. There was a warming soup to help the guests thaw out, followed by turbot in a herb sauce, dressed capon and a haunch of venison. Sarah barely noticed the dishes come and go. She picked at her food, too nervous to eat properly, and responded to the chatter of the family and friends around her, whilst watching Guy out of the corner of her eye. They had little chance to speak, but every so often Sarah would feel his gaze on her and her skin burned.
‘Sarah.’ Guy touched her hand lightly and she dropped her knife. She looked up to meet his gaze and blushed at the expression in his eyes. ‘I wanted to tell you—’
‘May I press you to a slice of Christmas pudding?’ the Earl enquired genially, from Sarah’s other side.
Guy made a slight gesture and turned away. Sarah could have wept with frustration.
The wassail bowl was brought in, a highly spiced mixture of wine, apple, nutmeg and ginger that smelled absolutely delicious. The Earl toasted the bride and groom and took the first drink, passing the bowl to Sarah. She drank deep, her head swimming a little. The other speeches followed, then the dancing was announced.
It was only when Sarah stood up that she realised how intoxicated she felt. The sauces had been liberally laced with wine, and the wassail bowl was particularly strong. She felt Guy’s arm go around her waist and leant against him gratefully.
‘Sarah?’ His breath stirred her hair. ‘Are you well? We may retire soon, but perhaps one dance first—’
‘That would be very pl…pleasant.’ Sarah tried to pull herself together. She swayed a little, and Guy looked at her closely. ‘Why, I do believe that you are foxed—’
‘Nonsense!’ Sarah said with aplomb. ‘I will dance with you, my lord!’
It was fortunate that Guy had requested a slow waltz as the first dance, rather than the more boisterous country dances that were customary. He held her gently and decorously as they circled the floor, but as the dance ended they were pulled apart and whirled off by the other guests, passed from partner to partner as the music speeded up and spun them into a progressive country dance. Finally, laughing and breathless, Sarah collapsed onto one of the benches and requested a lemonade.
After that, the dancing was fast and furious. Sarah saw Guy a few times across the room, but it was impossible to fight her way to his side. Whenever a dance ended there was someone else waiting to claim her, and Guy was similarly besieged by ladies taking advantage of the informality of the celebration to beg a dance. At one point, their eyes met and Sarah felt as though the whole noisy crowd had simply melted away. There was an intent look on Guy’s face, a determination in his whole bearing that suggested it was only a matter of time before they would be quite alone.
Eventually Sarah extracted herself from the crowd and slipped unseen out of the ballroom. It was very quiet in the hall, the sound of the ball muted behind closed doors. Sarah peeped out of the window. The snow was falling fast now, swirling amongst the trees, smothering the landscape. It looked cool and tempting. Taking a cloak from the closet, Sarah wrapped herself about and went outside.
The Woodallan gardens were like a magical white wonderland. Sarah tiptoed along the paths, her footsteps leaving indentations in the snow. She peered in at the ballroom window, feeling like a small child playing truant, then ran down the yew avenue to the spr
eading oak tree at the end. A wild excitement filled her, impossible to explain. The cold air stung her cheeks. She spread her arms wide and twirled around in the snow, the cloak swinging out around her.
‘Sarah! What in God’s name—?’
Strong arms captured her and held her still. Guy pushed the hood back from her face. There was snow in his hair and eyelashes, and he smelled of the cold air and, more faintly, of sandalwood cologne. Sarah felt her knees weaken.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, raising a hand to brush the snow from his hair. ‘I just needed to get away for a little.’
Guy gave her a little shake. ‘Whilst you have been here carousing in the snow, I have been looking everywhere for you! You weren’t in the ballroom, you weren’t in your room—I thought you’d gone!’
Sarah frowned. The raw emotion in his tone cut through her wild spirits and brought her back down to earth. ‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘I don’t know!’ Guy let her go and took several paces away. ‘Just gone—because you didn’t want to be married to me!’
Sarah blinked. The cold air had sobered her considerably and she was quite composed enough to realise that this did not make much sense.
‘Guy—’
‘No, hear me out!’ Guy swung round on her, full of tension. ‘All day I have been trying to tell you—’
‘Renshaw!’ A voice roared out of the gloom. ‘How d’ye do! I’ve come to toast the nuptials!’
‘It is Sir Ralph,’ Sarah whispered, trying not to laugh at the look of frustrated fury on Guy’s face. ‘He must have found the keys to his wine cellar!’
‘Devil a bit!’ the indignant baronet exclaimed, overhearing her. He came up and enveloped her in a bear hug, snow and all. ‘This is spring water, my lady, and every bit as refreshing as I used to find brandy to be! I’ll have you know that this water cured me of my ague—had to do, for it was all I had in the house!’
‘You should not stand about in the cold when you are only just recovered!’ Sarah said, slipping her hand through his arm. ‘Pray come inside, Sir Ralph, and join in the celebrations!’
They retraced their steps to the house, where Sir Ralph divested himself of his cloak and gave the bride another hearty kiss.
‘You will excuse us, sir,’ Guy said, with barely repressed impatience, ‘if we do not accompany you back into the ballroom. I have something very urgent to discuss with my wife—’
Sir Ralph winked. ‘Know what you mean, my lad! Go to it! I’ll find my own way to the party!’
He headed off towards the music, cannoning into the Countess of Woodallan in the doorway.
‘Beg pardon, my lady!’ they heard him say warmly. ‘May I interest you in a glass of this delicious water, drawn from my own spring—’
Lady Woodallan excused herself, turning to Guy and Sarah with an enquiring frown as Sir Ralph wended his unsteady way across the ballroom. ‘Who is that odd man? I positively do not remember inviting him and he seems quite inebriated!’
‘Only on water, ma’am,’ Sarah said, laughing. ‘I fear that is my disreputable cousin, Sir Ralph Covell! I believe he has just discovered his potential as a merchant of fine spring waters!’
Lady Woodallan raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, never mind him! You must both rejoin us—’
‘No, Mama,’ Guy said, very definitely. ‘The entertainment is going very well without us! Besides, you will see that Sarah is in urgent need of a change of clothes, and more importantly, I wish to speak with her—uninterrupted!’
Lady Woodallan looked scandalised. ‘But you cannot retire now! Everyone will know where you have gone! Besides, Sarah must be attended to her room and helped to undress—’
Guy raised an eyebrow.
His mother paused. ‘Outrageous!’ she murmured faintly. ‘Not even your father would—’
‘Pray return to the festivities, Mama,’ Guy said, grinning, ‘and leave me to attend to my wife!’
He took Sarah’s hand and pulled her up the stairs, so fast that she was almost running by the time they reached the bridal suite.
‘Oh, dear!’ Sarah was laughing and out of breath at the same time. ‘This is not at all the way in which the Countess would wish her new daughter-in-law to behave! I am sure she thought me quite lost to propriety!’
Guy closed the door behind them and leant against it as though he could not quite believe that they were alone at last.
‘Sarah. I need to talk to you—’
‘Yes, you have been telling me that all day—’
‘Please!’ Guy held up a hand. ‘I cannot bear any more interruption!’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘However, before I start, you really must change out of your wet clothes, and so must I. I will be back directly.’
He started to walk towards the connecting door, but Sarah’s voice stayed him. ‘Guy…your mother was right, you know. I do need help with this dress. It buttons down the back, you see…’ Her voice trailed away at the look in his eyes.
‘Very well.’ Guy’s voice was brisk and impersonal. He took Sarah’s cloak and draped it over the chair by the fire. ‘Turn around…’
Sarah was desperately conscious of his deft fingers unfastening the dress. She could feel his tension communicating itself to her, making her tremble. The fastenings fell apart and she felt Guy’s hand brush the transparent chemise beneath, heard him catch his breath. He cleared his throat.
‘That will do, I think. You should be able to step out of it now. I will leave you to change.’
He went through to the dressing-room and closed the door with a decided snap.
Sarah raised her eyebrows. She understood just how much self-control he had been exercising and how difficult it had been for him. Whatever he had to say must be very important indeed.
She stepped out of the dress and removed her soaking satin slippers. They would never be the same again. Whatever had possessed her to run out into the snow without dressing properly? She went over to the window and looked out. It was dark and the snowflakes were still falling, and suddenly the firelit room seemed a far better place to be.
A noise from the next room recalled Sarah to the fact that Guy would soon be rejoining her. She hurried to slip out of the chemise and into the only clothing that seemed to be available, a nightdress of fine lawn and a matching peignoir in a beautiful shade of eau-de-nil. She was standing before the mirror and brushing her hair when Guy reappeared, wearing a dressing gown in a dark shade of blue. For a moment they just looked at each other. Guy’s face was shadowed and Sarah could not see his expression.
‘If you would just sit down…’ Guy looked around, but there was only one chair. After a moment’s hesitation, he took her hand and led her across to the bed. Sarah’s heart started to race, but then he sat down at the foot, as far away from her as he could get.
There was a silence.
‘Guy,’ Sarah said beseechingly, ‘if you do not tell me what is going on, I will become very anxious…’
Guy’s sombre expression lightened. ‘I am sorry. It is simply that I have been wanting to have you to myself for the whole day and now that I have, I do not know where to begin!’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You know that I came to see you last night?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Your mother was with me. She turned you away because it is bad luck to see your bride the night before the wedding!’
‘It was bad luck for me not to see you!’ Guy said drily. ‘I had just been speaking with my father and he made me realise…’ he looked up and met her eyes ‘—that I have treated you very badly from the start, Sarah. The way I behaved in Bath, slandering you and then practically coercing you to marry me…I was not truthful with you at Blanchland, and then I blamed everything on you and was too proud to see that I must bear some censure as well! I know I have made you very unhappy these last few days, deliberately avoiding you—’
‘Oh, stop!’ Sarah cried, unable to bear a rehearsal of all the things that had gone wrong over the past few weeks. ‘I was equally to blame
for making such a shocking mull of everything! Let us forget all about it—’
‘I am happy to do so if you will forgive me,’ Guy said sombrely. He shifted slightly. ‘The truth is that I started to fall in love with you very quickly, before I really had the opportunity to know you. My feelings were so sudden and so violent that they took me by surprise—’
‘You do not know me very well now,’ Sarah said quietly. She traced a pattern on the bedcover, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
‘I think I do.’ Guy’s voice was insistent. ‘I know enough to realise that I should have trusted my instincts all along. I know that you are brave and kind and good, and that I love you…Why are you crying?’
Sarah knew that her eyes were full of unshed tears. ‘I did not know…I thought…I did not know that you love me.’
‘It is true. What is the matter? Do you not love me? You have never told me that you do!’
There was a vulnerability in his face that Sarah had never seen before. She smiled brilliantly through her tears. ‘Of course I love you. How can you be so foolish? I have loved you for at least as long as you have loved me—’
Somehow, she was not sure how, Guy was beside her and holding her very gently in his arms. She could feel the heat of his body through the silk of the dressing gown and she instinctively pressed closer to the comforting warmth. His lips moved against her hair.
‘We have made a fine muddle of everything between us, but the important thing is that we care for each other and that we are married now…’
Guy’s fingers were stroking the nape of her neck. Sarah found the gentle circular motion most distracting. The faint fragrance of sandalwood mixed with the scent of his skin made her want to touch him and she turned her head and pressed her lips to the hollow above his collar bone.
The effect of her tentative caress was dramatic. Guy bent his head swiftly and captured her lips with his, kissing her with all the fierce sweetness she remembered from before. All the frustrations of the day, the doubts and difficulties, were washed away as the simmering awareness between them finally flared into outright passion.
Blanchland Secret Page 25
