Courting A Sinful Stranger: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  James stared at her. “Sarah, where these things are concerned, it is as if it were yesterday,” he said slowly. “I do assure you the feelings about it run very deep. There is simply no possibility that your father would ever entertain the son of the man who almost ruined your mother as a husband for you.”

  Sarah felt tears spring into her eyes. She looked away hastily out of the library window. It seemed ludicrous that something that had happened before she was even born could affect her life in such a way, but it seemed that it did.

  She stifled a sob. James was right about the other matter, anyway. The Viscount Nordarken did not take her seriously. He had never suggested courting her in the proper way with a view towards eventual matrimony. His pursuit of her had only ever been a game for him. One that she had enjoyed, and been a willing participant in, but a game nonetheless.

  The Viscount Nordarken would never be her husband.

  Her heart sank as she let that fact fully sink in. He was the only gentleman she had ever felt a spark of interest in and it had grown to almost feverish proportions. She was beset by a deep desire that haunted her day and night. Imagine what it would be like, she thought in pure wonder, if she were his wife? It would be like heaven on earth.

  Hastily, she pushed that thought aside. It was never going to happen. And if she could not have him then she had no interest in any other gentleman. None had aroused any feeling within her, and she knew instinctively that none would. All of these burgeoning emotions must die a natural death.

  And there was still the pressing matter that she must secure a husband for her parents’ sake. If she had her way she would simply remain a spinster; if she could not have Lord Nordarken, she would have no other. But fate had decreed that her future was not secure, and she had Mama to think about as well. When her father died they would both be vulnerable. It was her duty to secure a good future for both of them.

  Slowly, she turned back to face James. He was gazing at her expectantly.

  She took a deep breath. “I shall accept your proposal,” she said slowly, feeling as if her heart were about to break in two, “for the sake of my family.”

  A small smile hovered on his lips. “You shall not regret it, Sarah,” he said. “I promise that I shall be a good husband to you. You shall never want for anything.”

  She forced a smile onto her face. “I am sure that I will not,” she said. “And then there is the fact that dear Mary shall become my sister. That is incentive, indeed.”

  James laughed. “Mary shall be beside herself with joy when I inform her of the news,” he said. “She esteems you so, Sarah, and it shall gladden her heart to almost have a family again through you. She misses our parents terribly.”

  Sarah nodded. “I know. She was telling me just weeks ago how lost she is without your mother.” She paused. “We shall all be as close as peas in a pod. A jolly group, indeed.”

  James nodded, looking pleased. “I have always liked you tremendously as well, Sarah,” he said slowly. “You shall make me a very fine wife. We get along well. There does not have to be romantic love to make a good marriage. You shall see.”

  Sarah nodded. Her heart felt like a dull, leaden weight in her chest. But again, James spoke the truth. They did get along and more importantly, they knew each other well. There would be few surprises. She would lead a comfortable life. What more could a young lady of her station expect from life, after all?

  “Shall I inform your parents?” James looked at her carefully. “Or do you wish to wait?”

  “Perhaps we should keep it to ourselves for the moment,” she replied carefully. “I am still getting used to the idea. My parents will become over excited and pressure us to wed quickly. Are you willing to do this for me?”

  James nodded, taking her hand and bowing. “I shall give you time to adjust to the idea, Sarah.” He paused. “But your parents shall need to know soon. They are the ones who approached me with the idea, after all, and they are eager to see it happen.”

  “Of course,” replied Sarah, her heart sinking further.

  “Very well, then,” said James, looking satisfied, as if he had concluded a business dealing to his satisfaction. “I shall leave you to come to terms with it.”

  “Good day, James.” Her voice was falsely bright.

  “Good day, dear Sarah.” He swept out of the room without a backward glance.

  Sarah sank back down into her seat slowly. She glanced at the book she had been trying to read before James came into the library. It was still resting on the side table. It seemed like a hundred years ago since she had laid it down there.

  The tears she had desperately been trying to keep at bay fell at last. She did not wipe them away. She let them flow freely and silently. It felt strangely good to let them out.

  James was a good man. One of the very best. She should be proud that he was going to become her husband.

  But it meant that the delicious game with Lord Nordarken was over once and for all. She was going to be betrothed very soon to another. And for all the world, it felt as if her very life was about to end.

  Chapter 14

  That night, after her maid had finally undressed her and brushed out her hair, Sarah wearily climbed into her bed. Her mind was still spinning from James’s shock proposal.

  She couldn’t quite believe now that she had agreed to it.

  Her mouth went dry with panic. At least she had persuaded him to keep it to themselves for the time being. There was simply no way she could deal with her parents’ effusive joy about it. If he had informed them of her decision, she would already be caught up in a whirlwind of engagement and wedding preparations. And she was not ready to handle that at all.

  Dear Lord, what have I done?

  She knew all the practical reasons why she had reluctantly agreed in the end. They were all valid. Sarah pressed a hand against her chest. It felt like there was a pain in there. Her heart…oh, her heart. Her heart did not concur at all with what she had done.

  Restlessly, she turned over in the bed, punching the pillow. How could she sleep after it all?

  But eventually, her eyelids started to droop. Her mind started to drift into the shadowlands of slumber. And that was when he came to her, stepping into her bedroom. He felt so real. So very real…

  He loomed over her bed, a dark figure in the night. She could clearly see his tall frame, broad-shouldered and strong. Lord Nordarken. He was built like an Adonis. His black hair was as dark as the night itself and his brown eyes glowed like coals in the pit.

  “Why are you here?” she whispered to him.

  He didn’t answer her. He seemed not to have heard her at all. Instead, he slowly took off his coat, tossing it to the side. To her shock, he picked up the bed covers and slipped into the bed beside her. His gaze was intense.

  “It is a game,” he whispered. “Remember?”

  She couldn’t speak. Heat was emanating from his body. Slowly, carefully, he reached out for her, taking her into his arms. She closed her eyes in pure rapture as his hands slowly caressed her, sweeping over her. They lingered on her breasts, taking them in both hands, kneading them. A groan of need escaped her lips.

  Fiercely, he took her lips, kissing her desperately. Her mouth fell open to receive his tongue. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses. They were like nectar to her.

  “Say my name,” she whispered, breaking the kiss, gazing at him desperately.

  “I do not know it,” he whispered back, playfully nipping her earlobes. “You have never told me…”

  She tried to open her mouth, to speak again, to tell him what her name was. Desperately she needed to hear him say it; she did not know why it was so urgent, only that it was. But her voice escaped her. Nothing came out.

  He possessed her mouth again. The kiss deepened. It felt as warm and wet as honey. She shivered uncontrollably in his arms. Something was happening to her, in the pit of her stomach. A restless hunger that was building by the second.

  An a
rray of bewilderingly strong sensations were slowly climbing in intensity. She gasped, tossing her head from side to side. What were they? It was as if she was climbing a staircase to heaven itself. Every step was leading her higher to something…but she did not know what it was. Only that she never wanted it to end.

  His lips left her mouth, drifting lower, searing over her flesh. It was so agonisingly beautiful that she could not stop a soft moan from escaping her lips. Hungrily, she wove her hands into his hair, spurring him on.

  The sensations were climbing higher still. She felt as if she were almost at the pinnacle. Her legs trembled and her hips arched in desperate need.

  And suddenly, it crashed over her gripping her in its agonising grasp, like a vice. She cried out in dazed pleasure. Over and over again…

  “My Lady?” an anxious female voice came. “My Lady!”

  Sarah slowly opened her eyes in a confused haze. She felt sweat dripping down her neck. Her maid Annie was standing over her, a candle held high in her hand. She was dressed in a long white nightgown with a bedcap on her unruly red curls.

  “Annie?” she whispered. Her voice came out as a croak.

  “You were crying out, My Lady,” said the maid, in a low voice. “Ever so loudly. I thought that there was an intruder in your room…”

  Sarah slowly sat up. She did not know what the maid was talking about at all.

  But then, it all suddenly came crashing back into her mind. The dream. It had seemed so very real. As if he had truly crept into her room and lain beside her in the bed.

  She blushed fiercely as she recalled every minute detail of it. The exquisite pleasure of lying in his arms. His kisses like honey. And the wild sensations that had gripped her, small at first, but increasing in intensity until she had felt as if she were riding a gigantic wave…

  Her blush deepened. Was that the reason she had cried out so loudly that Annie had come rushing into her room, fearing an intruder?

  “It was just a nightmare, Annie,” she croaked. She wasn’t able to look her in the eye at all. “I am quite alright. You can go back to bed.”

  Annie nodded, dropping a quick curtsey. “Very well, My Lady. I hope you sleep better now.”

  Sarah watched the retreating figure of the maid closing her bedroom door. Slowly, she sank back down, staring up at the roof of her four-poster bed. It was as if she was seeing nothing at all. Her heart was racing madly.

  What had it been? What had she just experienced?

  She had never known anything even remotely like it before.

  Trembling wildly, she brushed her hands slowly over her body. It was still tingling, as if it was recovering from it. Whatever it was. She was suddenly conscious that she was very damp…down there. As if a veritable flood had washed out of her.

  She pressed her hand into her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as she recalled the exquisite wonder of it. And then, she felt sorrow rushing over her.

  She knew instinctively that it was he that had caused that wild tempest to unleash itself upon her. She knew that it was the dream of him, his hands on her flesh, and his lips upon her own.

  If she could experience this in a dream about him, how much better could it be in reality?

  She felt colour suffuse her flesh. She was a wanton woman, that much was obvious. Dreaming about a man touching her intimately, arousing her so strongly that a fury had gripped her. She should be ashamed of herself.

  But strangely she wasn’t. She was only filled with sorrow. A deep sadness that she would never lay in his arms. That she would never have this with him in the real world. That desperately beautiful experience was destined to dwell in the shadowlands forever.

  ***

  Arthur tapped the side of his boiled egg, opening it up. Desolately, he stared down at his breakfast. He didn’t have the stomach for it at all. With a sigh, he pushed it away.

  “Whatever is the matter, old chap?” Captain Morgan’s voice reached him from across the table. “You look like you have lost a guinea and picked up tuppence.”

  Arthur gazed at his friend steadily. He still hadn’t told him what had transpired on the night of the show at the theatre.

  He picked up his teacup, sipping the scalding liquid. His mind was still reeling from it all. The public embarrassment that their game had been exposed. Lord Tolmere had been so very scathing of him. But that was as nothing compared to the disappointment that it was over, and he would probably never see Lady Sarah Rubyton again. Or if he did, it would only be in passing. He must never approach her in the same way. That much was obvious.

  The game was dead and gone.

  “Let me guess,” said the captain, in a dry voice. “It has something to do with Lady Sarah Rubyton?”

  “Is it that obvious?” Arthur’s voice was sharp.

  The captain chuckled. “I am afraid so, old chap. Only a lovely lady could cause that woebegone expression on your face.”

  Arthur swore underneath his breath. “Our game is over, my friend. I approached her at the theatre the other night and she had a protector who came down on me like a snarling wolf, telling me to back off or else.”

  The captain sighed. “It was bound to end sooner or later, Nordarken. You always knew that.” He gazed at his friend carefully. “Who was her knight errant, coming to her rescue from your dastardly self?”

  “The Earl of Tolmere,” replied Arthur grimly. “He cut me off, saying he knew exactly who I was and that the lady’s parents would not take kindly to their daughter being pursued by the likes of me.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “He was aware of that old scandal involving Father and Lady Sarah’s mother. He said that I was a rake, just like my old man.”

  The captain picked up his teacup, contemplating this for a moment. He looked pensive.

  “I told you that scandal still had legs,” he said eventually. “People have long memories and do not forget. Lady Sarah’s father might challenge you to a duel if you keep after her. I did try to warn you.”

  Arthur tossed his napkin onto the table. “Yes, yes, I know it all,” he said, feeling a deep anger rise in his chest. “I know that I cannot have her, either clandestinely or even in the proper fashion. That does not mean that I can be philosophical about it yet, old chap.”

  “She really has you in knots, doesn’t she?” remarked the captain, sipping his tea. “My advice is to just take it on the chin, my friend. You win some and you lose some. Women are rather like playing whist, I find. It is always a gamble.” He paused. “This time your hand was not good.”

  Arthur glowered, staring at the table. He knew that his friend spoke the truth. He had no choice now but to walk away from Lady Sarah Rubyton. Their game had been exposed and he had been warned off. He might cause another scandal if he kept doggedly pursuing her.

  He felt his fists clenching. He didn’t want to walk away from her. She was still haunting his nights and was with him almost every minute of the day. He was possessed by an almost overpowering desire to be with her. And strangely, it wasn’t just about taking her any longer. But was that only because she had suddenly been denied to him?

  “Perhaps we should just return to London,” he said slowly, wrestling with his feelings. “Cut our visit short. It is obvious I have overstayed my welcome in this district.” He forced a smile onto his face. “The ladies in London are all still there, after all. Perhaps they might distract a fellow.”

  He didn’t believe it for a moment.

  “If you wish,” said the captain slowly, frowning. “But you do not have to make the decision immediately, old chap. There is no rush.” He paused. “As long as you keep a respectful distance from Lady Sarah Rubyton, all should be well.”