“I don’t malinger.” She reached out and gathered her clothes.
“No, you don’t.” He touched the bruise on her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Thisis what you’re apologizing for?” She jerked her elbow upwards, almost hitting him.
Slowly it dawned on Colin that Sarah wasn’t about to cry or faint. She wasn’t terrorized as his mother had been. There was no fear in her eyes. Her jaw was set quite firmly. No, his wife was angry.Angry, of all things. At him. “But I hurt you,” he said, almost to himself, trying to understand why she wasn’t shrinking from him. He hadn’t killed her, she hadn’t killed him, although he really wouldn’t blame her one bit if she had.
“Not in the way you believe.”
“Tell me how I hurt you.” His head throbbed more painfully as he tried to muddle through this. There was some profound truth dangling just beyond his fingertips.
“You don’t trust me.”
That was patently untrue. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would trust you with my life.”
“Yes, but that’s the easy part, isn’t it? You just don’t trust me with the truth.”
She had him there. But there were things about him she would never know. “Of course I do.”
She sat on the grass, wringing her dress as if she were a laundress, watching him with eyes that knew too much. “Then tell me why the knife was so important, Colin? Why was it necessary?”
Why? He turned away and stared up at the black sky. Because he dared not risk that the old earl had been right. Because he couldn’t bear to see her shrink from his touch. But if she knew the truth, if she knew who he was, who his father was, why would she ever want to love him? “Sarah, I need some time. Will you give me that? It’s late.”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Finally she nodded. “Very well, you have until morning.”
“I didn’t hurt you? That is, other than the business of trusting you? You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. A slight twinge, nothing more. I told you that you wouldn’t.”
“Yes, you said as much,” he murmured, still unable to believe he hadn’t hurt her.
“You should believe me. I’m always right, you know.”
He hadn’t hurt her.
She began to dress, and for a few moments Colin watched in awe. She was his wife, he had just possessed her, albeit rather ham-handedly, and she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
He was the luckiest man alive.
He stood and picked up his breeches and boots, wanting so badly to whistle, but that would certainly be in poor form. Still, he could not refrain from dwelling on the moments before, the feeling of being inside her.
He lost his breath and the ground started to spin, and he realized that standing had been a mistake.
So he sat back down and didn’t allow himself to think about such things.
After pulling on his breeches, he stood resolutely and locked his hands behind his back. He dared not touch her, but he did stand very close. So close he could see the worry in her eyes. So close he could smell the scent of their lovemaking. He closed his eyes until the spinning subsided. “We’ll talk in the morning, Sarah.”
She nodded, her lips curving up slightly, which he liked to think was the beginning of a smile. “The next time, there will be no rules unless they’re mine,” she stated quite firmly.
He kissed her, simply because he couldn’t help it, but very carefully. Then he walked her back to the house.
The next time.Did there exist three more magical words? Perhaps there were, but he wouldn’t think about that. Right now, his body still hummed from the first time.
In his mind he had always believed that if he ever bedded a woman, he would transform into the demon that his father had been. Yet he felt just the same. It was humbling to discover he was mortal after all.
The grass gave way beneath his bare feet as they walked in silence, feet that looked just the same. The air was clean and fresh, newly washed by the storm. He studied his hands, studied his fingers. Just the same.
But things weren’t the same. He could look at the world with new eyes. He had taken a woman, and not just any woman, but Sarah. She didn’t turn away from him.
Even now, she could be carrying his child.The child of a DragonSlayer.
Ah, tonight the air smelled sweet and clean. The old earl had been wrong.
Black Jack Cady was dead and so was his son.
The night was still young and he had two things left to do. First, he had to create an explanation that she would believe. He would never tell her the truth, never let her find out who he really was. Now that he had her, he would not let her go. He could think of something. After that, he needed to lock himself away in his study. Sarah had given him more pleasure then he ever knew existed. He had some reading to attend to, for now it was her turn. He had to learn how to pleasure his wife.
Moonbeams spilled on the grass as the clouds rolled away and Colin turned, scanning the grounds, looking for the dragons, but finding none.
His father’s blade glinted in the grass, and Colin smiled, smug and sure. He had no use for it anymore; the damned thing could wait until the morning.
Giles stood in the open doorway, the letter from London perfectly aligned on the silver tray. He coughed discreetly, but still the earl paid him no mind, his attention focused on the book in front of him. Curious, Giles stepped into the room, determined to discover which beastie or monster had so fascinated the young man today.
When he happened to glance at the detailed picture on the page, he froze. The young man was not looking at dragons, he was studying the intricacies of the female anatomy, which in itself was rather a relief to Giles.
Averting his gaze, and taking the opportunity to notice that the study had been restored to its former, orderly state, Giles coughed—quite loudly this time.
Colin closed the book with a loud thump and shoved it off the desk. “What the devil are you doing creeping around here like a ghost?”
“A letter arrived from London, sir. By messenger. I felt it needed your immediate attention.” He placed the tray on the desk. “Although if this is an inconvenient time . . . ” he raised an eyebrow.
“What did the letter say, Giles?”
Giles took a deep breath, prepared to defend his honor, but apparently it was not necessary today. The earl plucked the piece of paper off the tray and read it himself.
“Damn.” The earl folded the paper in half and raked a hand through his hair.
“Bad news, sir?” he asked, wondering if the young man considered orders to leave for London immediately bad news or good.
“Is Sarah asleep?”
“I believe so, she hasn’t come downstairs. Should I wake her, sir?”
“No! No, um, I’ll see to my wife this morning. She should sleep.” The earl looked about the room. “Are there any flowers in this house?”
“Flowers, sir?” Giles pretended ignorance.
“That’s what I said.”
“Well, no, I don’t have any, although,” he studied the room as well, noting that it did look rather harsh, “perhaps I could cut some and place a few arrangements around the room.”
The earl waved his hand. “No. Forget that I said anything. I’ll take care of it.”
Colin got up and stamped out the door, leaving Giles alone. He sighed and picked up the letter. There was a kink in the rug and he stooped to straighten the offending wrinkle. There, much better. The book lay strewn about in the very manner that the young master abhorred, so he picked it up, ready to place it upon the shelves where it belonged. Of course, in order to determine exactly where it belonged, Giles would need to study the subject matter and then shelve it appropriately. He opened to the first page and raised his brows.
The air grew hot and Giles sat down in the bulking chair that the earl was so fond of. He stroked his moustache and turned to the next page. The man’s interests were certainly expanding. Fascinated, Gi
les read on. A loud knock came from the front door, but Giles would not be disturbed. He closed the door to the study, poured an ample glass of port, and sat down to continue reading.
Fascinating.
Something was tickling her nose. A rich exotic perfume, velvety. Flowers. She smiled and opened her eyes to an enormous bouquet of color. Daylilies, cornflowers, bluebells. She sat up straighter and yawned, the sun far too bright for early morning. Her thighs cramped in a painful manner and she couldn’t restrain her wince.
“You’re all right?” The flowers spoke with a deep voice that made her smile.
“Ah, so there is someone hiding behind the bouquet, after all.”
The flowers lowered and Colin stared at her in concern. “I’m sorry.”
“No more apologies, please, although if it causes this”—she swept the blossoms in her arms—“I might let myself weaken and allow it.”
“How are you feeling?” His brows were drawn together and there were tired lines at the corners of his eyes. He looked much worse than she felt and she wanted to make everything right for him.
“In perfect health, fit as a fiddle, right as—”
“Yes, we’ve been down that road before. You’re a very poor liar, Sarah.”
“Because I’m feeling quite magnanimous this morning, I’ll not correct you.”
“You’re still angry?”
“No, I’m waiting.” She folded her arms across her chest, and took a deep breath, treading lightly over what she sensed was very dangerous ground.
“Yes, well, I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me? How?”
“Sarah, you’ve been through such difficulties, I was afraid you’d think me no better than the bastard that attacked you.” He watched her very intently. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“So if I held the knife, I wouldn’t be afraid?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Colin, I could never be afraid of you. You’re very strong and stubbornly committed to protecting me—”
“Someone does want to kill you,” he reminded her.
“And they’ve stopped, haven’t they?”
“It’s only been ten days.”
“Eleven,” she reminded him.
“Eleven,” he admitted. “But it’s too soon to act as if the threat doesn’t exist.”
He looked so earnest, so sincere, and she knew he worried about her safety. But as far as she was concerned, the whole story was the biggest bit of poppycock she’d ever heard from him. However, she was content to bide her time and let him divulge his secrets in his own manner.
Except for one thing.
“There’ll be no more knives.”
“None,” he replied easily, much too easily.
“I don’t need a weapon when I’m afraid. I only need one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“I need you to hold me.”
“Are you afraid now?”
She didn’t know if he was teasing or if he meant the question, so she took no chances on a misunderstanding. “No, I could never be afraid of you.”
“I should have been patient and slow and tender, and so many things that I wasn’t.” He drew her into his arms and held her tightly, his lips against her hair.
She could never stay angry at him; he was much too hard on himself. “It doesn’t matter, I love you anyway.”
He made no reaction, there was no change whatsoever, as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. How long would it be before he noticed? He continued on and she smiled. Apparently quite some time.
“You were right. I did hurt you some, but that was because you’d never been with a man before, not because of something I did. Other than your virgin’s pain, I didn’t do anything to hurt you, did I?”
“No.”
He sighed. “Good. That is, it’s not good that I hurt you, of course, but because that was the cause of your pain. It shouldn’t hurt anymore because now you have. And I have.” He took a deep breath. “It really is quite fantastic.”
She nestled against his chest, never having heard him speak in such length before. And she was more than content to listen.
“It will be much nicer next time, I promise. We’ll wait a bit. I won’t rush you. Did you know that if—”
The door burst open. “Mum!”
Iris forgot her curtsy and flew into the room, pushing Colin out of the way and hugging Sarah very tightly. The flowers were thrown to the floor, and Sarah sighed.Oh well, there would be time for romance later . Nancy shuffled in behind Iris, her gaze immediately lighting on Colin.
“Look at this!” Iris tilted Sarah’s face toward the window, checking her faded bruise,tsk -ing appropriately.
Colin settled himself in a corner, so as not to be in the way, and Nancy settled not too far behind him.
“Good morning, Lord Haverwood.” She curtsied, flouncing her skirts in quite a good imitation of a small Iris.
“Good morning, Nancy.”
Giles burst into the room, huffing, his moustache twitching wildly. “I tried to stop them, sir, but this termagant . . .”
“Termagant! You’ve got no shame, calling me a termagant, you pompous old windbag.”
“Iris!”
“Giles!”
Sarah stared at Colin and she knew just when her earlier declaration of love registered. He blinked twice, took one step back, and then watched her somberly as if he were doubting his ears.
“He wasn’t going to let us see you. Can you imagine?” Iris rested her arms across her ample bosom.
“The countess needs her rest.” Giles stood his ground.
Sarah smiled at Colin rather shyly, but it was important that he know her feelings.
“Well, of course she does, and who do you think is going to see that she gets it?” Iris stomped over to the window and closed the heavy maroon drapes. “She doesn’t need this light.”
Giles’s face burned red and round and he marched forward, his moustache bobbing ominously. He ripped the curtains wide. “She likes the sun.”
Colin tilted his head and his brows knitted together.
Iris snapped the curtains closed. “Dark!”
Giles pulled them apart once more. “Light.”
Iris, who when confronted could turn as mean as a cornered cur, smiled with malice. “Don’t cross me, old man.”
Colin watched Sarah intently, the question settling in his fine sherry eyes.
She nodded and fiddled with her bedcovers.
“You’re no young miss yourself, you linen-draped virago.”
Colin stared harder.
She nodded very distinctly, so there was no miscommunication.
He understood. “Out! Now! Everyone!”
Oh, he understood very well.
Nancy stared at him, hurt that he would yell so. Iris’s mouth fell open, and she looked quite ready to sink to the floor. Giles simply looked relieved. “Yes, quite right, sir.” The butler grasped Iris’s arm and propelled her forward. He frowned at Nancy and pushed them both out the door, slamming it in Iris’s face. He dusted his hand on his spotless trousers. “There. Quite well done, sir.”
Colin glared.
“Surely you’re not lumping me with that riffraff?”
There was murder in Colin’s eye.
“You’d think a man would show more gratitude . . .” Giles turned on his heel and then looked back over his shoulder. “Find someone else to do your dusting, then. I’m a butler!” The door slammed behind him.
“You’ll have several fences to mend,” she murmured, suddenly feeling quite nervous.
He shook his head and advanced quite purposefully. “I don’t care.”
She swallowed and stared the blossoms on the floor. “Iris trampled my flowers.”
“Are you sure?” he asked intently, the question having nothing to do with her flowers. He sat on the bedstead and cupped her face in his hands, very gentle hands.
“Yes.” She nodded mutely, wishin
g for some witty remark, but her mind was foolishly blank.
“Even after last night?”
There were parts of last night she wanted to forget, or at least to understand, but there was so much more to remember. Most of all, she believed in him. “Yes.”
“I swear on my mother’s grave, I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll make it up to you.”
She was absolutely certain he would crawl through hot coals if she but asked, and her heart melted. “We’ll start again and there will be nothing to make up.”
“Will you tell me once more?”
When he stared at her so, as if she were something so precious, she could not breathe. She didn’t understand what he was afraid of, why he always touched her with such caution, but it didn’t change her feelings. “I love you so very much.”
Colin blinked, wondering if he had ached for the words for so long that he had just imagined them, but she sat next to him, staring up as if he were the noblest man on earth, and he knew it wasn’t his imagination.
Her words settled inside his chest, rumbling their way up to his throat, robbing him of his ability to speak. And then they waylaid his mind, blocking out all but her face. Soft gray eyes, flushed cheeks that rounded when she smiled, the mouth that was made for his, and the stubborn chin that would never give up.
Even on him.
After a futile search for words, he finally stopped trying and kissed her. He had searched his whole life for someone to love him and now he held her in his arms. Heaven could not be this sweet.
He hoped she understood, and when he pulled away and looked into her eyes, seeing the sparkle, seeing the stars, he thought perhaps she did.
Carefully he removed himself from the bed, wanting nothing more than to stay. However, she looked tired and pale and he was not enough of an animal to force himself on her again. There were other things to attend to. Right now he needed to get a message to London. He needed Etiénne at Rosemont as soon as possible. In the morning Colin would set out for London, but he would not leave Sarah alone.
Much to Sarah’s surprise, the mysterious Monsieur D’Albon arrived at Rosemont that evening. Apparently her husband had requested his presence. His worn trousers were coated with dust, his dark hair falling forward over his face. He looked tired and worried, and in sore need of refreshment, but Colin wasted no time with pleasantries. The two men engaged in a spirited discussion in the study, which was unfortunately not quite loud enough for her to discover why Monsieur D’Albon had chosen to visit at such an odd hour, or why Colin had invited him.
Touched by Fire Page 22
