A Stolen Season (12 page)

Anita kissed her cheek and took Lord Kentum’s arm. Sarah watched them disappear into the wooded gardens, then helped herself to another champagne flute.

She ambled through the gardens, gazing at the fragrant flowerbeds. Sarah crossed beneath a large oak tree and looked toward the home. Hidden from view, she watched the famous ton in all its glory, stamping the details into her brain to remember for the rest of her life.

Sarah tried to make out Eric among the crowd but couldn’t find him. Where was he? Or more importantly, what was he up to? She spied Lady Patricia talking to Lady Earnston, the displeasure on their faces obvious. Sarah frowned and wondered what they spoke about. “Nothing good I imagine.”

“Did you say something?”

Sarah gasped at the deep, husky voice behind her. Eric stepped into a spot of dappled moonlight, and Sarah stood speechless before the virile, delectable man. His scent of sandalwood intoxicated her senses more than the champagne. Her gaze traveled down his body and heat pooled in her belly.

He smiled and leaned nonchalantly against the tree. Sarah steeled herself to remain strong and not start drooling.

“Good evening, my lord.”

“We’re alone, Sarah. I thought we agreed to use our first names.”

She nodded. “So we did.” Sarah peeked over her shoulder to ensure their privacy. Masquerade or not, she could not be caught alone with him in such a secluded location. “How long have you been standing here?”

His teeth flashed in the dark and a deep chuckle preceded the smile. “Long enough.” He paused and clasped her hand, pulling her toward him in the dark. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Sarah’s heart sped up at the sweet gesture. “Eric … ”

He cradled her face with his hands and Sarah fought to breathe. His touch sent her body catapulting toward social ruin. “What, my dear?” He leaned down and kissed her.

Sarah shut her eyes and reveled in the chaste embrace. What was he doing to her? His thumb sensuously caressed her palm, delivering a delicious shiver in its wake.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Of course she should be doing this — it was better this way for everyone. Richard was less likely to be killed if she seduced the earl and took the device after a night of wild, passionate sex. But who was she kidding? Whatever she felt for Eric had long ago changed from a means to an end.

Sarah inwardly swore.

“Tell me why we should not.” Eric untied her mask ribbon and let the facade drop to the ground.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And that was one remark she did mean. She never again wanted to see the pain in his eyes the night his brother died.

“You could not.” Eric brushed his lips against her neck, eliciting a sigh from Sarah. “Kiss me, Sarah,” he whispered against her ear.

Sarah turned and their lips touched. Meshed. Held. The kiss ignited into a whirlwind of flame. She matched his brazenness with every touch, every glide of tongue against her own. Want and need overtook all good sense, and Sarah fought not to lose all control and let him take her up against the tree.

It was madness, this overwhelming feeling of rightness between them. His hands slid from her waist and cupped her arse. Sarah gasped as he pulled her into him, his desire for her hard against her belly. She clutched at him, trying to hold onto a semblance of decorum.

But with every moment the kiss continued, her self control surrendered to her need. He picked her up and walked deeper into the trees until she was, indeed, pressed up against an old oak. Dear God, she couldn’t make love to him here! In a garden and at a ball.

Then Eric pushed his heat between the apex of her thighs, and Sarah couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. Social etiquette and her conscience be damned. To have Eric want her with such ardor was the most intoxicating elixir she’d ever known. And he was just as addictive.

Air cooled her leg and Sarah realized Eric’s hand was high on her thigh, stoking her heated skin and coming painfully close to her core. She mumbled her acquiescence and kissed him hard. Eric moaned and ground against her. “You’re mine.”

A shiver stole through her at his words. Sarah met his heated gaze and tried to calm her pounding heartbeat. “Eric … ”

“Don’t say anything. I know what I want.” He paused. “I want you.”

He kissed her again and her heart melted to the unrelenting charm and reverence she felt in his embrace. Sarah refused to acknowledge there was anything other than physical desire between them. She couldn’t feel anything for the earl. Regency England rakes didn’t fall for debutantes. His soft lips moved over hers in a dance of seduction, and Sarah waltzed, unable to take heed of her own warning.

Eric clutched her face and tipped her chin to deepen the kiss. His fingers speared through her hair and knocked pins from their set. Sarah relished the delicious feeling in her soul only this man had ever stirred.

“Marry me, Sarah.”

Sarah gaped as the shock left her floundering, trying to form words.

“I know we have not known each other long, and you may think I’m being too forward. But I know who I want as my wife. Please say you’ll marry me and become my countess.”

Sarah wiggled out of his embrace and stepped back. He couldn’t have asked what she thought he had. Stunned, she searched for something to say, anything. Still words failed her, her vocal cords seizing into knots. And in truth what could she say?

I would love to, but I’m sorry, my lord, as I’m not from your time and will not be staying beyond the Season. And then after I’ve stolen from you I will leave you again without answers or closure.

Tears blurred her vision. She was going to hell for sure. “Eric, I … You see … ” Had she been born in this century, Sarah would have already said yes.

But she had not.

The sound of voices floated up from the direction of the pond. Sarah threw a panicked look toward the shadowed figures emerging from the trees. Eric growled and stepped away. Sarah quickly fixed her hair and pulled her domino hood over to cover what she’d missed. Her mask was nowhere to be found.

Lady Anita walked beside Lord Kentum, her animated conversation cutting through the night. Lord Dean ambled behind, his gaze on the path ahead. Sarah called them over, hoping they wouldn’t pick up on the shakiness in her voice. She cast a glance at Eric who stood glaring at her friends.

“There you are, Miss Baxter. I was wondering where you may have wandered to.”

Eric tensed beside her. “Not far, as you can see.” Sarah smiled to hide her unease. Lord Dean eyed Eric suspiciously.

“May I escort you back, Miss Baxter? Supper is about to be served.”

“I think not, Dean,” Eric said. The words dripped with bored nonchalance, which was meant as anything but. “Miss Baxter has already agreed to dine with me this evening. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news … ” Eric said, challenge in his voice.

Sarah was shocked to see Anita trying desperately to hide her amusement. She looked from one gentleman to the other. What did one do in situations like this?

Eric placed her hand on his arm and pulled her away. Sarah took one step, then stopped when Lord Dean moved before them, halting their progress.

A cold shiver stole down her spine. Lord Dean looked as furious as Eric. Eric thrummed beside her with suppressed rage, his arm beneath her hand taut as a bow string. The situation was getting out of hand.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Earnston, but I do believe Miss Baxter is fully capable of answering for herself.” Lord Dean’s voice had a resolute edge to its accommodating tone. “Maybe,” he continued, “Lady Patricia requires an escort to the supper room instead. She is, after all, who you accompanied to the ball.”

Eric had accompanied Lady Patricia?

Sarah looked to Anita, whose face was rapidly changing to worry as the two bulls refused to give the other an inch. Lord Kentum, for that matter, stood poised ready to break the gentlemen up should he need to.

Sarah pulled her hand from Eric’s arm and stepped away. “I do believe I agreed to have supper with Lady Anita and Lord Kentum, my lords. But you are both most welcome to join us.” Lord Kentum smiled and held out his spare arm for her to take. Sarah clasped it like a lifeline and sighed her relief. “Lord Earnston, Lady Patricia is also most welcome to join us. It will make the supper party all the merrier.”

• • •

In the small hours of the morning, Sarah stood with the Winters in the foyer, waiting for the ducal carriage to come around. Footsteps sounded behind and Sarah turned as Eric strode toward them. Her stomach doing a little flip when he smiled.

“I’m pleased I caught you before you left, Miss Baxter. I’ve just learned you’ll be one of my guests at Kent in a fortnight.”

Sarah nodded. “Yes, I’m looking forward to it. I understand your ancestral home is very beautiful.”

“Yes, I certainly think so. I am looking forward to having you there,” he said, clasping her hand hidden beneath her domino.

“Sarah,” Eric said, taking advantage of the family’s distraction in bidding Lord Kentum goodbye to lean toward her ear, his breath a light tickling against her skin. Sarah quivered, her body yearning for him in denied need.

“I will not pressure you for an answer. But please, think about my proposal. If your concern stems from the fact we have not known each other long, let me use your time at my estate to become better acquainted and maybe by the end of the Season you may give me your answer.”

Eric had the sweetest expression on his handsome face, and it broke her heart to know she would break his within a matter of weeks. How did you tell a man in this era you would sleep with him, but marriage was certainly not a possibility? She was being cruel leading him on. Who was she kidding? Sarah felt the connection between them, too. It was like riding an out-of-control freight train that would eventually crash.

And Eric would hate her if he ever found out why she was really here and what she’d done. Sarah cleared her throat, the lie unable to form on her tongue.

“Allow me to try and win your hand,” Eric asked, his eyes full of hope.

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat. “You may try, Eric.”
But you will fail.

• • •

Eric watched as the carriage disappeared down the graveled drive, and already he missed the woman cosseted inside. He laughed at this new inability to live without a woman.

“Have you asked her yet?”

Eric caught Kentum’s eye before looking back to the disappearing coach. “Yes.”

“And … what did she say?” Lord Kentum came to stand beside him.

A smile quirked Eric’s lips. “She said she would think over it. But, give me time, my good man, and I’ll win her yet.”

“You would want to and soon. Dean’s sniffing around her skirts should make anyone seize the moment.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed as he remembered Sarah not hours before, drinking and laughing with Anita, Kentum, and that damn Dean.

A few weeks into the season and he’d fallen for the most beautiful, mature debutante he’d ever met. The thought of the weeks to come on his estate filled his mind. His body roared with the knowledge that he could maneuver her alone and have time with only the two of them. “Miss Baxter will be the next Countess of Earnston, Kentum. Do not doubt it.”

“What about Lady Patricia?” Kentum asked.

Eric clenched his jaw at a question he himself had been asking. What about Lady Patricia, indeed? Earlier tonight the chit had actually had the audacity to corner him in an abandoned drawing room, and tried to steal a kiss. He had never been so uncomfortable in his entire life. He ground his teeth and met Kentum’s gaze.

“I’ll have to inform both Lady Patricia and our parents that I’ve made my choice and it’s not one to their liking.”

Kentum nodded. “Miss Baxter is a beautiful woman inside and out. You have made a good choice, Earnston.”

Eric nodded. “Now all I have to do is convince her of that fact.” He sighed.

“Well then,” Kentum said, clapping him on the shoulder, “may I wish you both happy.”

“Thank you. I believe we will be.” Eric watched Lord Kentum enter the ballroom, and turned and ordered his carriage. He scraped his boot against the entrance stairs in the interim.

No longer did nights at gambling dens or places like Mae’s at Soho Square hold his attention. For the first time in his life he wished to spend his nights at home with only one woman sharing his bed.

Sarah …

What he had come to feel for her was an affection so deep and enthralling that time itself would never be able to dim it. He would love her forever.

He was sure of it.

Two weeks later Richard and Sarah arrived at Lord Earnston’s estate in Kent early in the morning after spending the previous night in Aperfield. Anita took her on a quick tour of the home’s ground floor, before a maid showed her to her room.

Sarah stopped at the sight of Richard sitting on a chair before the unlit hearth. “What are you doing in here?”

Richard raised his brows. “I asked which room you were given and came to wait for you. We need to talk.” He stood and turned to face her. “What are you doing, Sarah? When are you going to take the device? You cannot tell me you have not had the opportunity to fleece his lordship yet. God knows you’ve had enough chances, how many more will you need?”

Sarah threw her pelisse onto the bed. “It isn’t as easy as that. He has to take off his clothes for me to get it, and for that to occur … ” She paused. “Well, you know … ”

“You will have to sleep with him.” Richard threw his cigarette into the unlit hearth. “I thought you planned on doing that anyway. You like the guy, and he obviously likes you, so what’s the problem? It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

Sarah shushed him and sat down on the opposite chair. “That’s not the point. I can’t just jump his bones; women of this era don’t work that way. He has to court me, woo me.” Sarah sighed at Richards’s disgusted visage. “I know it sounds lame, but it’s actually quite nice for a gentleman to sweep you off your feet.”

“And is that what his lordship is doing, Sarah? Sweeping you off your feet? Because let me tell you, we’re leaving the instant we have the device, so don’t fall for this rogue. It will only make your leaving that much harder.”