Sarah knew what he was thinking. To his everlasting joy, she reached for his hand. “Yes,” she said, one simple word that said everything.
He helped her up into the phaeton. Ben was still discussing the duel with the witnesses. Gavin placed his hat on his head and picked up the reins. Sarah placed her hand upon his thigh, holding on to the seat with her other. He drove by the group of men and stopped. “I’ll return your vehicle later.” He nodded for the tiger to hop aboard.
“How shall I return home?” Ben protested.
“You are resourceful, brother. You shall think of a way.” And with that, Gavin snapped the reins and set the team forward, Ben’s laugh of agreement following them.
The hour was still early but London’s streets were active. Gavin concentrated on his driving and the heat of Sarah’s hand on his thigh. They didn’t speak. There was no need to do so.
In relatively quick order, Gavin pulled up to the Clarendon. He set the brake and hopped down.
While the tiger climbed into the seat to take the reins and presumably drive back for Ben, Gavin swung Sarah down from the vehicle.
“Your arm,” she chastised but Gavin could barely feel his arm—not when compared to the other, more urgent feeling in another part of his anatomy.
He practically dragged her up the stairs to their floor. His anticipation was so great, the sound of the key in the lock was enough to put him over the edge.
And then they were inside.
Sarah moved first, throwing her arms around him, pressing her body against his, and pulling him down into her kiss.
Kicking the door shut, Gavin marveled that he had never imagined that a woman’s desire could rival his own. The shy Sarah, the frightened one, the reserved, anxious woman was gone. In her place was the Siren.
Even if Gavin had wanted to resist her, he would have been powerless to do so.
She pushed off his jacket. He untied the ribbons to her bonnet so that he could taste her ear. Her shawl was on the ground at her feet and soon her dress followed.
She pulled out the tail of his shirt and then smoothed her hand across his muscles beneath it.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since you took off your shirt in that field,” she said, her lips against his ear.
“It is wise you didn’t or we would be doing this for all to see.”
She laughed her agreement before kissing him again, deeply, fully, without reservations.
Sarah was more unclothed than he, so Gavin had to help. After all, men’s fashions were more complicated than skirts and stockings.
As he explored her mouth, he unbuttoned his breeches. His manhood was a proud and ready being. He’d been waiting for years for this moment and he would no longer be denied.
Then Sarah took the lead. Ending the kiss, she took Gavin’s hand and led him into the bedroom. “Sit,” she said, gently pushing him toward the edge of the bed.
Gavin reached for her as he obeyed but she slipped from his grasp. Instead, she knelt in front of him. Her dress was unlaced and the bodice was dangerously loose and askew, revealing full breasts and a tantalizing glimpse of a nipple. He wanted to grab her by the arms and lift her up and on top of him. Instead, she took ahold of his left boot. She gave it a mighty pull and it slid down his leg. She reached for the other and did the same. Then she stood, holding her bodice in place with one hand. Ah, yes, she’d known where his eye had been the whole time.
“Let it go,” he whispered.
She pretended to hesitate a moment and then released her dress so that it fell to her feet. She had not worn petticoats or small clothes this morning. There had been no time for leisurely dressing and the thought that she had been so completely naked under her dress during the duel shredded Gavin’s last hold over himself.
He reached for Sarah and devoured her with his kiss as he brought her onto the bed beside him. Her hands held his waist, smoothed over his buttocks, pushing his breeches down. Gavin helped the best he could without losing this heady kiss.
Never before had he experienced this close connection with another person. Kissing Sarah was as natural and vital to him as breathing.
He rolled on top of her. Her legs—those long, lovely legs that had captured his imagination in the theater—opened to him, cradled him. He could feel her heat. He rose over her, placing himself against tight red curls. He was hard, beyond ready.
“Sarah—” he started, in this moment loving her so much, he needed to assure himself that this was what she wanted but she cut him off.
“Gavin, take me.”
And that is what he did.
His manhood knew where to aim. His body glided deeply inside as smoothly as if he’d been born to be there. Every pleasure sense pulsed with the joy of joining.
Sarah’s hand pressed upon his hip. Her body curved to accept him, and Gavin found himself buried within her to the hilt. She was perfect, magic, tight.
Instinctively, he began moving. She eagerly matched his rhythm.
This was what Gavin had been waiting for.
Over the years, he’d heard men brag. They’d been descriptive. And, of course, there were the poets . . . but nothing could have prepared Gavin for the complete happiness he experienced being in her arms.
Her heat enveloped him. Her legs held him steady. He had worried that he would need to hold back, to be gentle, but he discovered that she would have none of that. She met the force of his thrusts and whispered for more. “Please, more, Gavin.”
Angels could not sing such sweet music.
He felt her quicken. What a miracle a woman’s body was. She tightened, pulled, and then came the hotness of her release—and he could hold back no longer. With one last thrust, he experienced his own release. The intensity of the moment robbed him of reason.
For a solid moment, they became one.
Nor did he think that at last he was a man.
What nonsense. Gavin had never had any doubts about his manhood or his place in the world.
No, what came to his mind was how blessed he was to share this moment with Sarah. They were complete, whole, one.
From the point where his path had crossed with hers, he’d been aware of her. Now, he understood why.
Every path of his life had been leading him to her.
Sarah could not move. She could barely breathe.
She’d thought she’d known what to expect in the coupling between a man and a woman. Now, she was stunned to realize that even with her years of marriage, she’d not had a clue.
Gavin had changed her into a creature of light, emotion, feeling. In his arms, she was the Siren.
Her body hummed from a sense of perfect fulfillment, and she wanted more.
He moved off of her and as a flower follows the sun, she turned to him, pressing her body along his.
His lips brushed her hair. She held him close, her hands on his back as she marveled at the differences between them. He was hard where she was soft and they had fit together perfectly.
Peace filled her being. She was safe with him. She could trust him. She believed in him. She kissed his shoulder. His skin was warm. She could feel the muscles move and flex beneath the smoothness of his skin. His scent set her heart pounding. She ran her hand across the bandage and wished she could heal him with her kiss.
When she shifted, he released his hold. She sat up, folding her legs under her on the mattress.
His gaze followed her every movement. He cupped her breast as if it fascinated him.
“Now what?” he asked, sounding as satisfied and serene as she felt.
“We could break our fast,” she said as his thumb circled her nipple. She looked down the length of his tall body that filled the bed. He was stirring again, and the sight made her proud. Gavin acted as if he appreciated every inch of her.
“Or,” she said, leaning so that her breast rested in his hand, “we could have another go at it. See if there is anything we missed the last time.”
“I wouldn’t mind the pr
actice,” he answered and slid his hand to her neck to bring her lips to meet his.
And practice they did. All that day and the next.
The room at the Clarendon became their sanctuary.
When she mentioned that her body was an old one, a four-and-thirty one, he laughed and called her beautiful.
Beautiful.
Sarah had never thought of herself that way before. Her coloring was too strong, too out of fashion for true beauty—and yet, when she was with him, she believed herself lovely.
What truly amazed her was that when she decided to work on the task of copying the parts of her play for the actors, Gavin sat at the table next to her, helping. He hadn’t been lying to her when he’d said he’d enjoyed reading the play and often asked perceptive questions about the characters.
And through it all, they made love. Delicious, soul-satisfying love.
However, they could not hide away forever.
Besides, they both had much to do. He had to return to his politics and she was determined to stage her play. Gavin encouraged her to do so. He told Sarah he admired her for being herself. Her spirit attracted him as much as her body.
His man Talbert was, of course, dismissed. Gavin had seen to the secretary and had sent letters demanding Lord Rovington’s resignation as Chairman of the Committees on the day of the duel. He didn’t appear to have any remorse over the action. Sarah understood he was the sort of man who would do what he believed must be done.
That meant that someday, he would end their liaison. However, for the first time in her life, Sarah did not want to worry about the future. She wanted to live this day and spend the night in his arms without doubts and fears.
She was now a mistress.
If she allowed herself the time to think deeply on the matter, she was embarrassed. This was the place she had told herself she would not go.
Still, she discovered that she lacked the will to give up Gavin.
And her feeling toward him had nothing to do with the clothes he purchased for her from Mrs. Hillsman or the house he purchased in her name not far from her old home on Mulberry Street and very close to the Bishop’s Hill Theater. No, her feelings ran deeper than gifts.
Because of him, she had security. Because of him, she was living her dream.
She found herself anxiously waiting for the sound of his knock on her door. She adored the weight of his body upon hers and being curled up against his warmth. No matter where he went in the evening, he came to her bed for the night.
Sarah was learning what made him laugh and enjoyed sharing tidbits of her day that would make him smile.
Of course, he insisted she should have a maid and a cook and a butler but when she protested, he settled for one maid to tidy the house. That was all she wanted. Sarah did her own cooking and her favorite moments were when he could join her for dinner. They would sit at her table in the kitchen before the hearth. She learned he liked his beef rare and his meals simple.
Her days were busy as well. She wanted the first performance to be in September. That didn’t leave much time for casting the play.
Gavin acted as if he enjoyed listening to her share tales of her day. He always encouraged her, something she had never anticipated. All the other men in her life had been discouraging.
“I’m having difficulty finding a lead actress,” Sarah confided over dinner one night. “The actresses who would be completely right are in other plays and the ones who have read for me lack a certain . . .” Her voice drifted off as she tried to choose the right word, which was also one of the problems. “The Widow Peregrine is a bold creature and very self-possessed. If she is played too strongly, the audience will not like her. So she needs to be soft; however, I want a certain intelligence to come through from her.”
“Why don’t you play the part?” Gavin suggested.
“I couldn’t. I’m the manager.”
“But many male managers are also lead actors. Isn’t that what you told me?”
It was true. But could she do it?
“Frankly, Sarah, I can’t imagine anyone else more perfect for that part.”
“The work will be twice what I expected,” she murmured. “She is a very involved character and in almost every scene. I’d have to learn the lines—”
“Lines you already know fairly well. I’ll help you. We shall rehearse here. I’ll read the other parts and it will all fall into place.”
Fear wanted her to say no.
However, his confidence in her was contagious. “I could do it.”
“I know you can. Where is the play?”
They started that very night with the opening scene. Gavin played the maid, a role that both made Sarah laugh and fall in love with him.
Yes, love.
Oh, love had been coming. Perhaps even before she’d discovered what it could be like between a man and a woman in his arms.
At first, she’d been suspicious of this fledgling emotion. After all, she’d believed she’d loved Roland. She wanted to think her feelings were due to the sex. The act was actually boring when one thought about it . . . but not with Gavin.
Each and every time was better than the last. Her passion didn’t wane; it grew, almost in correlation with her respect for him.
He had only to look at her a certain way or touch her and she melted into his arms. He was a demanding, inventive lover and she discovered in herself that same yearning drive. They were well matched.
Granted he wasn’t always with her. He was the Duke of Baynton. He had duties. There were affairs he attended where it would have not been the thing for her to go. However, he always came to her bed, no matter how late the hour, he returned to her.
And now that he was enthusiastically helping her to realize her dream, well, how could a woman not fall in love?
“Miss Charnock was disappointed you were not in attendance at Lord Trammell’s rout last night,” the dowager said to Gavin when he made his appearance one morning. She was already seated at the table. “In fact, I’m rather surprised to see you in the breakfast room this morning. It has been some time.”
Gavin heard the censure in his mother’s tone. He was not one to disappoint her. However, between his duties and obligations and living with Sarah, he had not been home. Nor had he wanted to be. The only time he felt completely alive in his own life was with Sarah.
She fascinated him. Her mind was always busy. He discovered he had grown bored with the endless bickering of politics, arguments that rarely solved any problems. He enjoyed helping Sarah with her lines for the play. He found the challenges she faced in working with the actors interesting. He could even relate the trials she had managing her actors with his own difficulties with members of Lords and the Commons. Some of the solutions he and Sarah devised to assuage an actor’s fragile pride also worked on members of those august bodies.
He discovered having a partner he trusted to hash over the difficulties and vagaries of his day was nice. The weight of his office seemed lighter when he shared with her. He had a sense of peace and contentment.
Therefore, no, he had not been dutiful in his courting of Miss Charnock. He hadn’t thought of her until his mother mentioned her name.
His mother seemed to accurately read his mind. She looked to the footmen serving the room. “Please leave us.”
Gavin knew he would not appreciate this discussion. He thought about leaving with the servants but that would be cowardly. Instead, he helped himself to the breakfast dishes on the sideboard.
Once he sat, his mother said, “You told your aunt and me that you were open to this courtship. The Charnock family has expectations of you.”
But what if I don’t wish to meet those expectations?
Instead of asking the question, he said carefully, “I’ve only spoken to her twice.” He took a bite of buttered toast. He would prefer sharing his breakfast with Sarah. He’d had a very late meeting last night and, since he’d known she’d had a full day at the theater with the opening of h
er play right on the horizon, he had thoughtfully decided to spend the night at Menheim and let her have an uninterrupted night of sleep.
Besides, he needed to make an appearance in front of his mother sooner or later.
“You don’t have to talk to her at all,” the dowager answered. “You know how these things are done. Miss Charnock has been waiting patiently for your attention. More important, so has the rest of society. It is known that you are interested in her.”
“Not because I put it about.”
“You are not naïve, my son. The moment you walked with her in that garden, it was noticed. When you called upon her the next day, it was settled.” She leaned forward, her hands in her lap. “The world knows about your mistress, especially after you dueled over her.” She said the word with a hint of disdain. “The two of you have not been discreet. Your father would never have approved. He trained you to be more circumspect. However, I am aware you have ‘needs.’ Over the years, you certainly have been better behaved than your brothers about the matter. I also understand that you have always honored the title and have striven to be all that the Duke of Baynton should be. I know you will not shirk your obligation to marry a young woman of high morals, good family, and a more than respectable fortune. You understand that your job is to breed an heir.”
He did understand. Indeed, Gavin actually longed for children. They may be a way of forwarding the succession of the title but, for him, they were also a yearning. His father had been a harsh taskmaster. Gavin wanted not only to have a son but to raise him with more compassion. To let him be his own man—something his father had never allowed.
At the same time, he wanted Sarah.
He knew that now. He had not enjoyed having his bed to himself last night. He’d missed her presence.
Sarah could not have children. He pushed the thought from his mind, feeling disloyal.
“I see I have given you much to consider,” the dowager said. She set her napkin aside and rose from the table, moving to the closed door. “I know you, of all my sons, will do what is right. What is expected.”
Gavin found his voice. “And what if I refuse?”
Such a simple notion and he’d never thought of it until now. What if he disobeyed the order of things?
A Date at the Altar Page 19
