Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (32 page)

“Now that's the sort of thing I like to hear, my lord,” Mr. Garison said as he leaned back on his heels. “World's too full of scoundrels these days. It's quite refreshing when a romantic comes along.”

“So you'll tell me where she is?” Christopher asked hopefully.

“Aye,” Mr. Garison said, “she's here all right, but she retired over an hour ago, so if I may make a suggestion, it would be for you to wait until morning before making any attempt at seeing her. In fact, I insist upon it.”

“Do you have any idea how hellish my day has been?” It was as if Mr. Garison had yanked away the last of Christopher's enthusiasm for this journey. With little promise of seeing Sarah that evening, something flat, uninspiring and decidedly dull settled within him.

“Nevertheless, she
is
a lady, my lord. It would be most uncivilized, ungentlemanly and utterly inappropriate to disturb her now.”

However much he hated having to do so, Christopher conceded the point. “Perhaps I'll have that bath you mentioned after all.”

“A fine idea, my lord,” Mr. Garison said as he snatched a key from a hook on the wall and crossed to the stairs. “Follow me and I'll show you to your room.”

U
nable to ignore her concerns about Lord Spencer, her parents and the uncertain future looming before her, Sarah found it impossible to sleep. Deciding that cooling the room would probably help, she opened the window to a heavy downpour and remained standing there for a moment, enjoying the feel of a gentle breeze whispering across her skin while water drummed against the roof.
Wine.
That would make her drowsy. Reaching for her robe, she flung it across her shoulders and tied the sash at her waist, then went to the door. Opening it, she stepped out into the hallway just as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Instinctively, she turned to see the innkeeper approaching and was just about to make her request known to him when she caught a glimpse of the man behind him. Her heart stilled before leaping into a full gallop. He'd come. Lord Spencer had actually come! Unable to speak, her throat unusually dry, she remained completely motionless as his eyes settled upon her with the sort of gravity that sent a rush of nervousness rippling through her.

“My lady,” Mr. Garison said, arriving before her first. “Is there anything you need?”

“I . . .” Sarah blinked, heart fluttering in her chest as she looked to Lord Spencer, her cheeks flushing when his lips curved in a mischievous manner suggesting he knew precisely what she needed.

She cleared her throat, not liking the state of discomfort she was in. After no sign of him bothering to pursue her all day, Lord Spencer's arrival had taken her completely by surprise. “Some wine,” she managed, deciding the drink would no longer be required merely to induce sleep. She needed it to calm her nerves.

“I'll send someone up with it as soon as I've shown his lordship to his room,” Mr. Garison said, his expression hard as he continued down the hall with the request that Lord Spencer follow him.

Moving past her, Lord Spencer allowed his hand to brush against hers as he whispered, “Wait for me.”

A cacophony of nerves erupted in the pit of her belly, spearing her with heat and leaving her quite breathless as she watched him go. It had taken him but a split second to undo her completely, her legs trembling as she pushed the door to her room open behind her and fled, his words echoing in her mind.
Wait for me
. Her heart thumped wildly as she leaned back against the wall and took a steadying breath. All day, in spite of her doubt, she'd hoped he cared enough for her to give chase, but now that he had, she felt an overwhelming degree of apprehension over being alone with him, speaking to him and explaining her actions. And then there was the issue of whether or not she could actually allow herself to accept an offer from him in the event that he made one.

A knock at the door startled Sarah out of her reverie. “Who is it?” she asked, her voice sounding weak to her own ears.

“Your wine, my lady.”

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door, welcoming the maid and accepting with much relief the jug she brought. Alone again, she wasted no time in pouring herself a large glass, which was emptied completely, along with an additional one, by the time Lord Spencer scratched at the door.

Seated by the open window and soothed by her drink, Sarah called for him to enter, but as the door eased open and he came into view, her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. She swallowed hard as she took him in—­his large frame clad in a white linen shirt that had not been tucked into his fawn-­colored trousers. His hair was damp and his feet were bare, which appealed to her in the strangest of ways.

He closed the door gently behind him, and for the longest, most unbearable moment, he just stood there, watching her with an infuriatingly serious expression. He raised an eyebrow, and she lost her patience. “My lord,” she said, bursting with the need to release all the thoughts that had churned around her head all day, “if you've come on behalf of my parents to fetch me back to Thorncliff, you'll have to gag and bind me, for I shall not go of my own free will.”

“As alluring as that image is, I did not come on your parents' behalf, though they did ask me to find you. Rest assured, however, that I am here for my own . . . personal reasons.”

The way he said
personal
practically curled her toes. “I am honored,” she said, setting her glass aside on a table. “When I left Thorncliff, I'd hoped you would decide to choose me in spite of my shortcomings, that you would return my affection unconditionally and stop me from leaving. But I've had an entire day since then to consider our situation, and I've come to the realization that I cannot ask you to deny yourself the opportunity to marry the sort of woman you deserve.” It pained her to say this, but she had to, for his sake. “Realistically, my lord, you deserve better than me—­a woman whom you can gaze at fondly for the rest of your life without hating her for denying you her most precious gift.”

“You think too little of yourself, Sarah,” Spencer told her, his gaze softening as his shoulders relaxed. “And don't forget, I've had an entire day to consider my future with you at my side. It's what I want, if you'll have me.”

“Make no mistake that this is my fondest wish, but I would urge you to reconsider,” she told him defiantly. “You think too much of me if you imagine I'd make you a good wife.”

Pushing himself away from the door, Spencer closed the distance between them. “I beg to differ,” he said as he raised his hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. Instinctively, she leaned into the caress. “You forget I've had some experience with the marriage mart and that the only woman I found there to catch my interest was an imposter, so please don't think I haven't thought this through, because as a man once fooled, I've become very determined to find a bride on my own terms.”

“But I'm not an innocent.” Bitterly, she forced the truth upon him. “You cannot possibly ignore that.”

A tentative smile tugged at his lips. “I'll admit that I didn't think myself capable of accepting it. Indeed, I thought the worst of you after you told me, and I blamed you for denying us the happiness that should have been ours if Harlowe hadn't charmed you.”

Her chest squeezed as uneasiness rolled through her. If he wasn't here because of her parents or because he wanted her, then . . . “Why did you come?”

“Because I was a fool, Sarah, influenced by the artificial ideals of Society without considering who you truly are. But as soon as I pushed all the rules aside and focused on you alone, everything became clear. When I woke this morning, it was with the intention of asking for your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I found you gone.”

“But you came after me,” she whispered, still unable to believe he was really standing before her in the flesh.

“No small feat, considering my horse went lame. I had to walk five miles and managed to get caught in a rainstorm, but I was determined. I still am. Which is why I'm going to tell you a secret,” he said as he gazed down at her. “You wouldn't be my first lover either.”

She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her in response to his unexpected confession. “That's entirely different! You're a man, after all—­you're expected to have a few liaisons before you settle down and marry.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed with a nod, “but does it really matter to you that I've taken other women to bed? As long as I didn't do so after we met and that I swear to be faithful to you from this day forward? Isn't it enough for you to know that the women in my past are completely insignificant now that I have found you? They don't matter, Sarah. Not when it's you that I love. Don't you see? The same applies to you. Yes, I was shocked when I discovered your indiscretion, but that's because it went against everything I've been raised to expect from a lady of breeding.”

“I hope you're not suggesting the rules of Society ought to be less stringent on that score, because I'm afraid even I would balk at such a notion. I do have sisters, whom I intend to stop from making the same mistake I made.”

Christopher's direct gaze remained unwavering. “I'm not planning a rebellion, Sarah. I'm just trying to make you see that you're not a bad person because of what you did and that you deserve to be happy. Since you are willing to overlook my past indiscretions, I think it only fair that I should overlook yours.”

She shook her head. “I just . . . I fear it will always be there, looming in the background and casting a shadow upon our happiness.”

“Tell me,” he said as his hands went to her shoulders, holding her firmly in place. “You said that marrying me would be your fondest wish, but is it really? If you'd never met Harlowe and your virtue was still intact, would you accept my offer of marriage then?”

“In an instant,” she said, unable to be anything but completely honest with him. “I love you, Spencer, with all my heart.”

“Then that is all that matters, Sarah. The rest is in the past. What you need to do now is look to the future and accept that what I feel for you is more powerful than any misgivings I might have about your lack of innocence. You are sweet, kind, considerate, generous, and you have punished yourself enough these past two years. It's time for you to stop suffering, when the truth of the matter is that there are ­people among us who've done worse things in my opinion. Why you should be denied marriage and children when several peers are openly committing adultery without anyone batting an eyelid defies logic. Besides, nobody need ever know about your history, since there's little chance of your parents mentioning it, and Mr. Denison has every reason to keep his mouth shut if he wants his daughters to marry well. But even if word were to get out by some misfortune, you ought to know that I will stand by you, no matter what.”

It was a beautiful speech that tugged at Sarah's heart, tempting her to surrender, yet she couldn't seem to shirk the apprehension that filled her. “You are the most generous of men, my lord, and I am humbled to know how greatly you revere me. Please know that I reciprocate your affections, but even though I do agree with your views, I just can't help feeling as though it would be selfish on my part to accept—­that I would be benefitting far more from our union than you.”

“That you would even think something like that would be an obstacle is yet another reason why I admire you, but I'd like you to consider that if we don't marry, it will only be because of your reluctance and your fears. Nothing else is standing in our way, Sarah.”

Looking back at his imploring eyes, Sarah realized how right he was. The only thing stopping her from leaping into the future with Spencer was her own guilt and cowardice. But perhaps her guilt was misplaced. After all, he already knew her darkest secret and was willing to overlook it so they could be together. And her fears . . . did she really wish them to deny her the chance of a happy family filled with children and the company of the man she loved? “I was planning to seek refuge in a convent if you failed to find me,” she confessed.

Spencer stiffened. “Where?” he asked.

“In France.”

He expelled a deep breath. “I'm glad I caught up with you then, because I do believe you would have been making the biggest mistake of your life.” Bowing his head, he kissed her gently on the forehead. “You don't belong in a convent, Sarah. You belong with me.” And as he tipped her chin with his fingers and lowered his lips to her mouth, she knew he was completely right.

 

Chapter 20

W
hen they broke apart a short while later, Spencer met her gaze with such earnestness that she could practically feel his love enveloping her like a blanket. “I've spoken of marriage repeatedly,” he said. “You know what's in my heart, and I daresay it matches the contents of your own. Please tell me that you will agree to be my wife, for I can think of no other woman with whom I'd rather spend every moment of the rest of my life.”

The answer came to her quickly. “Yes,” she said. “I will marry you today or any other day of your choosing.”

“I wouldn't wish to deny you a proper wedding in London with your family and friends present,” he said as he hugged her against him, his arms securely wound about her midsection, allowing her to savor the warmth emanating from the solid frame of his body.

His scent clung to his shirt and Sarah breathed it in, delighting in its familiarity and the knowledge that the man it belonged to would soon be hers. “I don't care about any of that,” she said as she looked up at him. “All I want right now is to be your wife. The sooner the better.”

Spencer grinned as he placed brief kisses all over her face until she was laughing with him. “I know precisely how you feel,” he told her a second before his mouth captured hers. All playfulness vanished, replaced instead by an urgent hunger that Sarah eagerly encouraged, her hands clutching at his shoulders while inviting him in, sighing in response to the feel of his tongue stroking against her own, tempting her to follow his lead. And follow she did, until she found herself breathless.

“Your secret,” he said, wishing for only truth between them as he leaned back a little so he could take her in. God, she was beautiful, with that wispy hair and those clear blue eyes. “My brother knows of it as well.”

Concern marred her face as he said it. “Your brother?”

“I know I promised not to tell anyone, but I was furious after you explained to me the reason for not being able to pursue you. I needed an outlet for my frustration, along with a stiff drink to calm my nerves, so I sought out my brother. He won't tell anyone. I can assure you of that.”

“How can you be certain?” Uneasiness filled her voice.

“Because the only person he's willing to speak to is me. Nobody else has been allowed near him after he returned from the war.” He swallowed convulsively before adding, “His face shows severe scarring.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes. “And yet he came with you to Thorncliff?” she asked softly. “How very curious.”

“Considering the extent of the work being done at Oakland Park, he hardly had much choice.” Christopher paused for a moment before saying, “When we are married, would you mind terribly much if he were to come and live with us at Hillcrest? I've yet to move there myself, since I never fancied living alone and away from my family. It's an odd notion, when I've always been used to being surrounded by ­people.”

“Then we shall make it our home together,” Sarah said, her eyes warming as she gazed up at him. “Of course your brother will be welcome.”

It meant the world to him to hear her say that, for he knew how difficult it could be having Richard beneath the same roof. “It won't be easy for you,” he added, deciding it would be best to lay all the cards on the table immediately rather than allow her to be surprised. The dark cloud Richard carried with him was not the sort of surprise most ­people would care for.

“It doesn't matter,” she said in earnest. “He is your brother. If he would like to live with us, then I will happily assist in making the arrangements for him to do so.”

“You are remarkably kind, Sarah. It's one of the many reasons I adore you.”

“Do you truly?”

There was a hopefulness about her, but there was also a measure of doubt—­as if she scarcely dared allow herself the possibility of him feeling deeply for her—­that almost broke his heart.

“You told me you wouldn't be able to offer me love,” she explained to him quietly.

“I was a bloody idiot, unaware of my feelings for you and more than a little afraid of welcoming such vulnerability. But I can no longer deny what's between us. More importantly, perhaps, I do not
want
to. I love you, Sarah, most ardently.” And to cement the notion, he lowered his lips against hers with a possessiveness he'd never felt toward another. She gasped, startled no doubt by his urgency, and Christopher took advantage, conquering her mouth as he pulled her fiercely against his chest, his arms a band of solid iron around her slim waist.

It took only a moment for her to gather her senses and join him, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke. Soft murmurs occasionally slipped from her throat, increasing his ardor. There was no doubt that he burned for her. Hell, his very soul was afire with the need to join with her—­to be as one, a single creature sharing a heartbeat.

Shocked and concerned by his wayward thoughts and where they would surely lead if they weren't immediately dampened, he stepped back, placing distance between them and trying desperately to ignore the mess her dressing gown was in, having slipped off her right shoulder and parted in the middle. “Sarah,” he murmured, stunned by the gravelly tone of his voice, which seemed to convey every wicked desire that welled up inside him. He was having a devil of a time holding them in check. “I should leave.”

“Don't.” Her chest rose and fell in response to her labored breaths, drawing his attention to her breasts.

His groin responded with instant alertness. “If we continue down this path . . .”

“Were you sincere when you asked me to marry you?”

“Of course!”

“In that case, I should like to avoid the torture of sleeping in separate beds. Especially since I have no innocence to protect.” Her eyes glistened. “Please, Spencer. I appreciate your wish to do what is proper, but as things stand, Harlowe remains my only lover. I'd like to change that before we say our vows.”

He grimaced, the reminder tarnishing the moment. “Harlowe is dead,” he clipped, more harshly than he'd intended.

Her eyes widened a little, but then she nodded, accepting his anger.

Feeling like an ass, Christopher began to apologize, but she cut him off, saying, “When I come to you on our wedding day, I want to be yours in every possible way, Spencer. I don't want anyone or anything between us, which is why I would like you to banish Harlowe from our lives forever by claiming me as your own. Right now.”

“Christ, Sarah.” Did she have any idea what she was doing to him by saying such things? Her words were most provocative, and in return he found himself uncomfortably restrained by the tight fit of his trousers.

Rising up on her toes, she wound her arms around his neck, pressing the entire length of her soft body against his. “Make me yours,” she whispered right before she kissed him, stripping him of any remaining resolve.

Inflamed by her touch, he deepened the kiss, savoring the faint sigh that escaped her when his hand stole inside her robe to cup her breast. His thumb swirled across the tight peak of her nipple, evoking a soft groan from her throat. By God, he'd never felt a keener need to divest a woman of her clothing. He needed to see her, feel her, without restriction.

But her hands were already pulling at his shirt with a desperation to match his own, and before he could protest, she was pushing it over his head, baring him to her perusing gaze.

For the first time in his life, he found himself concerned about his physicality. He wanted to be everything she wanted, but the way she was looking at him . . . he couldn't decide if it was lust or pain or perhaps something else altogether. “Do you approve?” he asked, his confidence hinging on her response.

“You're so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice cracking a little, “so perfect.”

Christopher's spirits soared. “So are you,” he said as her hands slid toward his waistline.
Damnation!
If he didn't pull himself together, he'd soon be standing before her as naked as the day he was born while she remained fully clothed. He could not allow that. Not when he was as desperate to see her body as she apparently was to see his.

Grabbing her wrists, he slowed her progress, even as his fully aroused manhood jerked with the anticipation of her touch. “Not yet,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers, his tongue licking along her lower lip before thrusting inside the wet warmth she so willingly offered. If she touched him now in his present state of hunger, he feared he wouldn't last.

“Don't move,” he told her gruffly, returning her hands to her sides. Leaning back so he could take her in, he pushed her robe from her shoulders, loving the sensual way in which her eyes widened and her lips parted. A rush of embers spread across his skin, increasing in heat at the sight of her breasts, outlined to perfection beneath the flimsy fabric of her nightgown, their hard centers thrusting toward him. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and took her in his mouth, his tongue flicking across her nipple as he drew her to him.

“Oh God,” she sighed, her hands clutching at his shoulders while he dampened the fabric between them. Kissing his way back up, he made his way along the curve of her neck while she splayed her fingers across his back. His lips moved carefully over her delicate collarbone until he reached the edge of her neckline. “Turn around,” he said as he gently nipped her shoulder. She did as he bade without question, her breath shuddering in response as he ran one hand along the length of her spine, down and over the curve of her bottom, delighting in the faint outline the delicate cotton of her nightgown offered.

When he squeezed her gently, she arched in response, as if he'd commanded her to do so. Reveling in the bold reflex, he did it again and was this time rewarded with a deep mewling sound as she pushed back toward him, her hips tilted in a most provocative manner. “Bloody hell,” he murmured as he pulled at her nightgown, bunching the fabric as he hoisted it up over her hips, along the length of her torso and finally over her head. His breaths came in short bursts as he stared at the image she portrayed—­her body lean, yet curved in all the right places. By God, he'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her now—­beneath him, moaning his name as he thrust himself inside her. A groan escaped him at the mere thought of what was about to transpire, while hot desire raced to his groin, hardening him to the brink of despair. He needed release, but first he would have to free himself from his restrictive trousers.

“Don't move.” Reaching down, his eyes fixed upon Sarah's delicious body, Christopher unbuttoned the fall of his trousers and allowed himself to spring free. Relief surged through him, but it was swiftly replaced with an urgency that forced him out of his clothing with remarkable speed.

Straightening himself, he fought for discipline, knowing how vital it was that he make this good for her. His heart was hammering in his chest as he stepped up behind her, his hands going to her hips as he pressed himself against her. She gasped in response to the contact, and Christopher smiled with wolfish satisfaction. There was no doubt she could feel the firm insistence of his manhood pushing between her thighs. Slowly, he ran his fingertips up toward her waist, across her belly, where her soft flesh fluttered beneath his touch, and up over her breasts. “You're perfect,” he murmured in her ear as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. Her head fell back against his shoulder on a sensual sigh of pure pleasure. Christopher grinned as he bowed his head to lick her earlobe. If only she knew the extent of the pleasure he planned on giving her.

Never before had Sarah felt as wanton as she did now, standing there in a state of complete deshabille while Spencer did the most delightful things to her body. Oh Lord, it felt good as he gave his complete attention to her needy breasts, tugging and squeezing that plump flesh until they grew seemingly fuller. Between her thighs, she could feel the hard length of him gloriously brushing against her most intimate part each time she tilted her hips. It stirred an ache in her that seemed to have come alive with sizzling embers. Heaven above, it was most indecent, but she now longed for him to touch her there with greater insistence. Tilting her hips again, she hoped to encourage him to do so without the need for words. Almost immediately, one of his hands released her breast and came to rest upon her hip. With deliberate firmness, he urged her bottom closer still, until she was pressed up hard against his groin. “I get the impression you'd like to feel my fingers somewhere else on your body,” he murmured in her ear.

All coherent thought fled her brain at those words. She could only manage a weak nod, to which he chuckled before kissing her shoulder. “Spread your legs further apart,” he said. “Yes, like that. Christ, Sarah, do you have any idea how much I want you?”

“I can feel it,” she whispered, attempting a tone she hoped would not sound quite as inexperienced as she felt.

Behind her, Spencer emitted a sound not entirely dissimilar to a growl as he swept his fingers between her legs, stroking her in a feather-­soft caress at first, then more insistently as he parted her, his fingertips circling a part of her that brought intense pleasure to her entire body. “You're so wet,” he murmured as he pushed a finger inside her, “so ready.”

Closing her eyes, Sarah gave herself up to the spectacular sensations he wrought. She could feel him moving in and out of her, stoking a need within her that soon took the form of extreme pressure. It was both wonderful and torturous all at once. Her body begged to feel something more—­to grasp the pleasure he offered. Clenching her muscles, she embraced her desire until the pressure exploded through her, dazzling her senses as she trembled in the midst of the most extraordinary storm. “God help me,” she sighed when the last of the tremors abated and she sagged back against Spencer's warm chest.