‘No, that was not—’ She broke off. ‘I refuse to argue with you in the middle of a dance. If you wish to do so, we can do it in private. But if you must know, I am in an extremely foul mood and my arm is sore and I really wish I was at home!’ To her chagrin her voice trembled.
He stared at her. ‘To hell with the dance.’ He pulled her out of the set and led her from the floor. He manoeuvred his way through the guests and out of the ballroom. Once in the hallway outside he looked down at her. ‘We can be private in the study.’
Undoubtedly he intended to take her to task. But she was too tired to argue. Meekly, she allowed him to lead her across the circular hallway.
Dev pushed open the door, relieved to find the room empty. A single lamp burned on the desk. He stepped aside and allowed Sarah to pass him. ‘Come and sit.’ He indicated a wooden chair near the mantelpiece.
She obediently sat and looked at him, her expression resigned as if she expected him to ring a peal over her. Not that he blamed her, after his irrational behaviour she probably considered him the worse sort of man. ‘Are you all right?’ He spoke more coolly than he’d intended.
‘Yes,’ she replied. She suddenly looked extremely weary. ‘I dare say you wish to scold me for standing up with Blanton. I pray you will proceed and then leave me in peace.’
‘Sarah.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Do you really consider me such a harsh taskmaster? That I would bring you here to upbraid you?’
She rose to her feet. ‘I really don’t know what to think!’ Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. ‘You stand up with me once as if it is the most painful duty and then leave—not that I wish you to dance attendance on me, for I do not! But then you must spend the entire evening glaring at me from the side of the ballroom as if everything I do displeases you! And, to make matters worse, you storm into the middle of a dance looking as if you wish to strangle me for standing up with someone I…I detest!’ Her voice trembled and she looked completely and utterly defeated.
‘Sarah.’ He went to her side. ‘Don’t look like that.’
‘I…I am not looking like anything.’ She kept her gaze fixed on her feet.
‘You are. Can I at least see your face?’
‘No.’ She sniffed and he knew she was fighting tears.
He stepped forward and tilted her chin gently up. ‘You have tears in your eyes. I did not mean to make you cry.’
‘You…you did not. I am just ra…rather tired.’
‘Of course.’ He brushed a strand of hair from her face. ‘Come here.’ He pulled her gently into his arms, careful not to hurt her injured arm. She was stiff at first and then gradually relaxed against him. He gently stroked her hair as he had Jessica’s when she needed comfort.
Except she was not Jessica. Her sweet, light scent, the feel of her soft curves against him, told him that. It was all he could do to keep from crushing her mouth beneath his until she was his entirely. Which would hardly comfort her. ‘Sarah,’ he murmured.
She looked up at him, her lips parted slightly. She looked soft and vulnerable. He caught his breath and, with every ounce of will power he possessed, put her gently away from him.
‘Are you better?’ His voice was much more husky than he intended.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. She looked as bewildered as he felt.
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Good.’ He stepped back, trying to regain control of his senses. ‘I think perhaps it is time to go home.’
‘Oh. Yes, if you wish to.’
‘I do. You can sit here. I’ll let Maria know we will be leaving.’
She sat back down. ‘Thank you.’
He started towards the door, then turned to look at her as a thought hit him. ‘By the way, what the devil did you say to Blanton that sent him running from the dance floor?’
She looked puzzled. ‘I really do not know. He asked if I had a cat and when I said yes he suddenly left.’
A grin sprang to his lips. ‘Perhaps your cat is useful for something after all.’
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah looked up, expecting to see Dev enter the study. Instead, Amelia came in. Sarah rose. ‘Did Dev send you here? I am sorry to have taken you away from the ball.’
‘Not at all. I was rather worried when I saw him haul you from the ballroom with that determined look on his face. But Jessica assured me you would be quite safe, so I restrained myself from going after you.’
Sarah flushed. ‘Oh, dear, it was all so mixed up! I fear Lady Coleridge must be quite angry.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Amelia smiled at her. ‘You look so fatigued, no wonder you wish to leave. But I fear none of us are leaving tonight. It has been raining the entire evening and the roads are probably mud-baths.’
Amelia sounded quite cheerful, but Sarah wanted to groan. ‘Are you certain?’ she asked.
‘Yes, which is why I am here to take you up to bed. Lady Coleridge quite agrees you should go directly to bed. She has a room ready for you and a nightdress as well.’
‘That is very kind.’ Sarah felt rather bewildered. ‘But you and Jessica?’
‘We can share a room.’ She took Sarah’s arm. ‘Come, you look ready to fall asleep where you stand.’
The room was small and comfortable with a dressing room attached and a tent bed on one wall. Amelia glanced around. ‘Very nice.’ She moved to the bed and picked up a cotton nightdress already laid out on the covers. ‘However, I fear this is a bit large.’
‘It will do.’ Sarah sank down on the bed, suddenly exhausted. And where was Dev? She wanted to ask Amelia, but she feared her cousin would tease her.
Amelia put the nightdress down. ‘I shall find a maid to help you undress and then you can sleep.’ She kissed Sarah lightly on the cheek. ‘I will return.’
Sarah gave her a quick hug. ‘Thank you.’
Amelia left, closing the door softly behind her. Sarah remained sitting for a moment, an unexpected wave of loneliness washing over her. She wondered where Dev had gone to. Perhaps he had returned to the ballroom.
She could hardly sit here brooding. Sarah rose and went to the dressing table and pulled off her gloves. She could at least remove her sling and pull the pins from her hair while she waited for a maid. Her wrist felt much better, but she still had difficulty making much use of it.
There was still no sign of a maid after she completed those tasks. She might as well remove her stockings and kid slippers. Undoubtedly, with so many unexpected guests, all the female servants were quite occupied. She had just taken off both slippers and stockings when there was a knock at her door.
She straightened up. ‘Come in,’ she called.
And then her heart skipped a beat when she saw Dev in the doorway. ‘May I come in?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ She stood and smiled, unexpectedly happy to see him.
He took a few steps into the room and shut the door behind him. He looked extremely uncomfortable.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Sarah asked, her smile fading.
‘No.’ He took another step towards her and stopped. ‘I fear I must share your quarters with you tonight.’
‘Oh.’ Her mind went completely blank.
He shifted and tugged at his cravat. ‘There are not enough rooms to accommodate all the guests. Maria assumed that we would not object to spending the night in the same room. A natural assumption, I suppose.’
‘Well, yes,’ Sarah said weakly.
‘I will, of course, sleep in the dressing room.’
‘If you wish.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Well, are you ready to sleep?’ He peered more closely at her. ‘You are not in your nightdress.’
‘No. Amelia said she would send a maid.’
There seemed to be nothing more to say. They looked at each other for a moment, the silence stretching between them. Dev finally spoke. ‘There’s no need for you to remain on the opposite side of the bed. I’ve no intention of ravishing you.’
Heat f
looded her cheeks. ‘I hardly thought you were.’ She forced herself to move towards the bed. ‘I suppose I can sleep in my ballgown.’ It suddenly seemed infinitely safer.
‘I doubt that would be comfortable. How is your wrist?’
‘It aches a little, but nothing to signify.’
‘Sit down.’ He gestured towards the bed.
She perched on the edge of the bed, feeling more self-conscious than she ever had in her life. The room seemed to have shrunk, and she hardly knew where to look. The only consolation was that he looked just as dismayed as she felt.
And where was the maid?
He must have read her thoughts. ‘I’ll see if I can find an abigail.’
She nodded. He quit the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Sarah stared at it, her heart thudding. There was no reason to be so apprehensive, they would merely spend the night in the same room. She’d shared rooms many times, with Amelia, friends from school, other cousins.
But Dev was no cousin. Nor, obviously, was he female. And he was her husband.
But there was nothing intimate about their relationship. Not like Amelia and John, whose attraction for each other was apparent, who could not wait to close the door behind them, shutting out the world.
Their marriage was a sham, and the prospect of spending a night together was as disconcerting as if they had been strangers. Perhaps it would be better if she left Ravensheed. Her leaving would have the effect of announcing to society the true status of their marriage. It would be painful, but not half as painful as pretending there was a marriage where there was nothing at all.
A quarter of an hour later, Dev entered the bedchamber and shut the door behind him. Sarah looked up, her expression apprehensive. Unfortunately, what he had to tell her would probably do nothing to ease her uneasiness.
Or his.
He kept his face expressionless. ‘I fear there is no abigail available.’
‘I see.’
He moved to the mantelpiece and leaned against it. ‘I asked your cousin to come but she suggested I play abigail and left. I could not find Jessica either.’
‘I am certain I can manage.’ With her hands clasped in her lap and her wavy thick hair curling past her shoulders, she looked young and vulnerable. And incredibly desirable.
He crossed his arms. ‘How? You’ve only one arm and women’s garments are devilishly difficult when you have use of both hands.’ He tried to keep his voice matter-of-fact. ‘And, if you recall, you performed a similar service for me not long ago. So, it is my turn to reciprocate.’
She blushed and bit her lip. ‘But this is different.’
‘How?’ Although he knew perfectly well it was not the same at all.
She lifted her chin. ‘I can sleep in my balldress.’
His brow shot up. ‘Can you? Then I compliment you. I doubt if most ladies can. At least from what Jessica tells me.’ He strode to the bed and picked up the nightdress, which appeared made for a woman three times her size. ‘You’ll be better off in this, particularly with that arm of yours.’ He glanced at her face which had that calm set look to it. ‘My dear, I am probably not the most competent of abigails but I fear you’ll have to do with me.’ He smiled sardonically. ‘And I promise not to attempt a seduction if that is what you fear.’
She reddened to her roots. ‘It is not that.’
He shifted away from the mantelpiece. ‘No? Then come here.’
She rose, her face heated with colour and the look of someone who was about to face a firing squad. She stood in front of him. Which was when he noticed her feet were bare.
A shaft of desire pierced him at the sight of her delicate, pale feet. He tore his gaze away. ‘Turn around,’ he said curtly.
She did, holding herself stiff. He fumbled with the tiny buttons on the back of her dress, trying to think of anything but the slender curve of her neck and back. Or the way her hair hung soft and enticing about her shoulders. It was all he could do to keep from pulling her back against him, burying his face in the cloud of her hair. His fingers felt as if they were made of lead, but he finally undid the last button and then slid the garment from her shoulders.
It fell to the ground in a pool of pale green silk. His groin tightened. He strove to keep his voice calm despite his desperate urge to crush her to him. ‘Now, your stays.’
She jumped away from him as if burned. ‘I…I can just sleep in them.’
He glanced at her face, which was hot with colour. She looked vulnerable and confused, and humiliated to her core. It occurred to him then that not only was this probably the first time a man had seen her undressed, but had touched her in such an intimate way. How the devil could he have forgotten she was a virgin? He plucked the nightdress from the bed. ‘Hold this in front of you.’
‘Th…thank you.’ She took the garment, a flash of gratitude in her eyes. It had the effect of making him want to take her in his arms and make love to her until all thoughts of modesty fled. ‘Perhaps I can just put this on now.’
He spoke without thinking. ‘These won’t be the first stays I’ve seen.’
‘Oh. I suppose not.’ She blushed even more.
Now she probably thought he was a libertine. He scowled at her. ‘I assure you, however, I do not make a habit of the practice.’
‘I did not think so. Not…not that it is any of my concern.’
His brow shot up. ‘Not your concern? What the devil do you mean by that?’
‘I mean…’ She closed her eyes for a brief moment. ‘Please can we not finish this?’
She sounded as if she was being tortured. He felt the same way. He began to untie the laces of her stays. The intimate act was almost his undoing. The garment fell away.
‘Now your petticoat.’ His voice was hoarse. He loosened the ties of the remaining garment and then she stood in nothing but her shift, the neat, graceful curves of her body outlined by the thin fabric of the garment. It would be so easy to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him.
The hardness in his loins was almost unbearable. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control. The last thing he could do was make love to his wife.
He forced himself to speak and stepped around in front of her. ‘I will help you with your nightdress.’ He kept his eyes on her face. Which proved to be an error. Her tawny brown eyes were soft and wide, her auburn hair tumbled about her face, and her rosy, half-parted lips invited his kiss. And when his eyes fell to a small mole just above her right breast, he nearly groaned.
He wanted her in the worst way possible.
She looked at him nervously, still clutching the nightdress to her chest. ‘I believe I will just sleep in my shift.’
‘As you wish.’ He wasn’t about to argue with her at this point. Not when he was in such desperate need of a cold bath. Or a bottle of brandy.
‘Thank you.’ Her eyes didn’t quite meet his and her face was still red.
He inclined his head. ‘I will be in the dressing room if you need me,’ he said curtly.
‘I will be all right.’ She looked at him then. ‘And you?’
‘Yes.’ A strange, fierce longing shot through him that had nothing to do with lust. ‘Goodnight, then.’ He turned and stalked to the dressing room.
Nearly two hours later, Sarah finally opened her eyes and rolled to her back. Sleep was impossible. From the sounds coming from the room next to hers, she doubted if Dev was doing much better.
She shifted so she could see the half-closed door of the dressing room. In fact, it appeared he was not even trying to sleep. A light still burned in the room.
He had left the bedchamber once while she pretended to be asleep. Nerves on edge, she had waited until his return, scarcely daring to breath when she heard his footsteps. It wasn’t until he crossed the bedchamber and entered the dressing room without a pause that she had finally let out her breath.
Oh, she had wanted the most wanton things from him when he was helping her undress. Even now, her body felt
heated at the thought of his dark head bent towards her, his hands brushing over her skin. She had wanted to press into him, feel his hand touch her in places no lady should desire.
Not that he had been anything but the perfect gentleman. In fact, he had been so impersonal she had almost thought him completely unaffected. Except for that odd, almost vulnerable look on his face just before he left her. And she knew then that he felt as alone as she did.
She heard the creak of the chair as he shifted again. She sat up, pushing the hair from her face. It was no use sleeping, not when he was awake and probably exceedingly uncomfortable. She had no idea how a man of his height could possibly expect to sleep in a chair. She could at least offer him the bed.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the blood pounding in her ears. She located the nightdress and managed to drape it around her shoulders. At least she felt a little less exposed than in only her shift. She moved as quietly as possible towards the dressing room, not wanting to wake him if he should happen to be asleep.
At first she thought he might be. He sprawled in the chair, his legs stretched in front of him, his eyes half-closed. He was clad only in breeches and shirt. One arm rested on the small table next to the chair, next to an open bottle. He held half a glass of what she thought was brandy in the other hand. He looked dangerous and masculine. And very much alone.
She started to back away and his eyes shot open. She froze.
‘What are you doing up?’ he demanded.
‘I couldn’t sleep.’
A mocking smile touched his lips. He leaned back further in his chair. ‘I fear I cannot help you in that regard. Unless, of course, you care to join me in a brandy.’
‘I don’t care for brandy.’
‘I somehow didn’t think so.’ He set his glass on the table, this time leaning forward. He had that wild, reckless look in his eye she seen once before in the tower. ‘So, Sarah, why are you here? To keep me company?’ His eyes bored into hers.
She bit her lip. ‘Yes. If…if you’d like.’
He laughed. ‘My dear, I fear your company is far too dangerous. Go back to bed.’
The Marriage Truce Page 17
