Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires (8 page)

Sarah almost choked. “I . . .” She had no obligation to answer that question, especially since she'd only met the Heartlys the day before. Clenching her jaw, she said, “It's a private matter.”

There was a moment's silence until Lady Fiona leaned closer and whispered, “If you ever feel the need to discuss it with a friend, I'd like you to know that you can count on me.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said. She was grateful for the offer, even though it was one she could never accept.

“Isn't Thorncliff marvelous?” Lady Laura asked as she and Lady Emily came up alongside Sarah and Lady Fiona. “I do hope you're enjoying your stay, Lady Sarah.”

“It's a marvelous estate,” Sarah said.

“And utterly romantic,” Laura said with a conspiratorial smile.

Sarah's cheeks heated in a most impractical way. Aware of Lord Spencer's presence as he followed behind them, she couldn't help but say, “And contrary to Bodiam Castle, Thorncliff is impressive both inside and out.”

“A fine observation,” Lady Fiona remarked. “Perhaps you share Spencer's interest in English castles?”

Realizing her mistake, Sarah said, “Not really.” Determined not to encourage any matchmaking ideas, she chose not to mention the fact that although she'd never considered the issue, she couldn't help but be intrigued by Thorncliff and longed to know more about it.

“I agree with you,” Lady Emily said. “It's just nice to be able to enjoy such a wonderful retreat.”

“And the opportunity to remain abed all day if I so desire,” Sarah added.

Christopher coughed, then raised an eyebrow when Fiona and Lady Sarah turned to look at him. “Are you all right?” Fiona asked.

“Quite,” he managed, though he was anything but after Lady Sarah's talk of staying abed. The unbidden vision
that
had produced, of her sprawled out upon the sheets, naked, of course . . . He struggled to think of something—­like problems that might occur if crocodiles were found in the lake—­that would halt the sudden stirring in his nether region. Could crocodiles even survive in the British climate, or would Lady Duncaster have to bring them inside for the winter? The thought that evoked, of reptiles roaming about the halls of Thorncliff and possibly lounging on the sofas, brought a stupid smile to his lips and then an unintentional chuckle.

“What's so funny?” Emily asked.

Christopher blinked, then schooled his features and frowned. He'd been woolgathering and had failed to realize that his sister had fallen behind and was now walking directly beside him. “Crocodiles,” he said.

“Crocodiles?” The note of disbelief was almost tangible.

“Funny creatures, don't you think?” Christopher mused, unwilling to divulge the reason behind his thought process for fear that . . . he grimaced as his mind betrayed his command, offering him an image of Lady Sarah's hair fanned out upon a pillow as she gazed up at him with parted lips, so ripe for kissing. As much as he'd tried not to notice how tempting they were, he wasn't dead, and had consequently failed in his attempt.

“You look a bit tense,” Laura said, and Christopher blinked again, surprised to discover that she had snuck up on him as well. “Perhaps you ought to loosen your cravat, lest it cut off the blood supply to your head.” She laughed at her joke, as did Emily.

Christopher rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” Fiona said when they reached the maze, releasing Lady Sarah and running forward. “First one through wins a green ribbon!”

Laughing, Laura and Emily raced after her, while Lady Sarah looked mildly stunned.

“Mazes tend to bring out their competitive streak,” Christopher told her.

“But not yours?”

“As pretty as I'd no doubt look with a green ribbon tied in a bow upon my head,” he said dryly, “I think my sisters have better use of it.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, and without warning, she suddenly smiled—­a bright, beaming smile that reached her eyes, almost blinding him with her radiance. His heart stilled. No. He would not allow himself to be drawn in by her feminine wiles. His sisters and mother might be able to get him to spend more time with her, but he'd be damned if he was going to let her anywhere near his heart.

“You're probably right,” she said, her expression sobering.

If only he could make her look happy again. Her beauty had increased tenfold when she'd smiled, her joy threatening to infect him as well. Unwilling to let her affect him in any way, he looked to the puzzle the maze offered.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the entrance.

She hesitated, her eyes betraying her uncertainty. Perhaps he'd be able to tell his sisters that his efforts to spend more time with Lady Sarah had failed due to her lack of interest. But then, surprisingly, she raised her chin and nodded. Stubborn little minx. “I suppose we should at least try to follow your sisters,” she said. “The longer we delay, the less chance we'll have of winning.”

And so he offered her his arm, which she accepted, though he sensed she was regretting her choice to leave Mr. Denison's company. Christopher still couldn't believe she was destined to marry that stodgy old man. It defied logic, but so did many other
ton
marriages. Her arm remained loosely linked with his, her body as far away from his as possible as she hurried forward.

“I get the impression that you'd like to avoid spending time with me,” he said after a few moments of silence between them. Spotting his sisters as they rounded a corner, Lady Sarah quickened her pace in an effort to catch up to them.

“Your impression is correct,” she said.

Her frankness startled him to such an extent that he found it difficult to comprehend that this was indeed what she had just said. “May I ask why?” he eventually managed.

“Because in spite of your cynicism, I happen to enjoy your company.” She sounded sincere. There was even a hint of a smile to her voice.

Christopher frowned, then shook his head, completely befuddled by her logic. “That makes no sense,” he finally told her.

“It makes perfect sense to me, my lord, but if you want further explanation, I fear I must disappoint you, for I shall offer you none. All I ask is that you respect my desire to be left alone.”

Desire.

The word crept through him, so innocent in her use of it, yet provoking a series of thoughts he ought not to be having. He should know better. Hell, he'd promised himself never to let another woman tempt him ever again. Glancing down at her profile, he could not deny that as much as he tried to resist, Lady Sarah stirred his blood.

His heart increased its pace as her fingers curled into the wool of his jacket. This could not be happening. Worse than that, he could not allow himself to like her, not when he had every intention of simply placating his mother and sisters by engaging Lady Sarah in the occasional conversation. Nothing more.

And yet, all obligation aside, there was no denying that he enjoyed sparring with her—­that he liked watching her stand up to him no matter how uncomfortable he probably made her feel. Recalling the unhindered smile that had captured her face when she'd found Snowball, he felt an odd swelling inside his chest. For reasons he could not explain, and against his better judgment, he found himself drawn to her—­had in fact looked forward to seeing her again today. Clearly, he was allowing himself to be led astray. It had to stop.

“My lord?”

Her voice brought him out of his reverie, and he realized that his mouth had gone inexplicably dry. “Forgive me,” he muttered. “I was lost in thought.”

“You stopped very abruptly,” she said, “and I feared perhaps I'd upset you. In any case, we ought to hasten our progress if we are to keep up with your sisters. I believe they went that way.”

It was then that Christopher realized how alone they were. Again. Indeed, if it weren't for the occasional squeal of laughter sifting through the air, there would be no evidence of anyone else's presence. Lowering his gaze, he looked down at Lady Sarah, who was staring toward the turn in the path with some measure of anxiety. There was a restlessness about her entire body that easily conveyed her eagerness to seek the company of others and avoid being left alone with him.

“Why are you so nervous?” he asked without making a move to follow the rest of their party.

“Because we ought not be alone together,” she said. “It isn't proper.”

He considered that for a moment before saying, “I'm hardly going to ravish you out here in public where anyone could happen upon us at any given time. Honestly, Lady Sarah, I do believe you're overreacting.”

Her eyes met his at that moment, bright and accusing and with the slightest hint of fear. “Am I?”

Noticing that a lock of her hair had come undone and was trailing down the side of her neck, Christopher reached out, catching it between his fingers. Her breath caught, and it was as if her whole body shuddered in response. Christopher stilled, his eyes locked with hers. Then hesitantly and with utmost care so as not to startle her any further, he placed the tips of his fingers against the side of her neck and felt her pulse. It was leaping in a frantic rhythm, not from any passionate response, he wagered, judging from the look of panic she was presently bestowing upon him, but because she did not trust his motive.

Damn. He scarcely knew his motive himself, other than that he'd succumbed to the urge to touch her—­had accepted the excuse her hair had offered. Retrieving his hand, he stepped back. “What on earth do you imagine I might do to you that you would be so thoroughly alarmed?”

Her chin rose a notch as she stared back at him boldly, her composure seemingly restored by some miracle. “The worst, if you must know.”

“Good God, I would never,” he blurted.

She held his gaze. “You would not be the first man to make such a claim, my lord, but since you yourself have been blessed with sisters, I'm sure you can appreciate the value of a woman's reputation.”

Christopher flinched. She was absolutely right, and though he hadn't done anything truly inappropriate, he'd certainly thought about it, and that was almost just as bad. “My apologies,” he said. “I've no desire to make you feel uncomfortable, and since I do not wish to marry at present, as you well know, then it goes without saying that I will try to avoid any compromising situations. Which is why I cannot help but wonder if it isn't really me you fear but yourself?”

Why the devil would he say something like that?

Her jaw clenched and she grew rigid, as if she was struggling to remain calm. Christopher braced himself for the biting remark he knew would come, except it didn't. Instead, Lady Sarah closed her eyes, no doubt eager to block him out. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then raised her chin. Her eyes opened and she looked to the sky. Christopher followed her gaze until he found himself admiring a ­couple of swallows who appeared to be caught in a playful chase.

“There's something to be envied in the freedom of birds,” Lady Sarah said. She sounded detached, as if she was speaking to herself rather than to him. “What I wouldn't give for the opportunity to fly away from it all.”

“You wish to flee?” When she didn't respond, he said, “Is it because of Mr. Denison?”

Abandoning the swallows, Lady Sarah looked at him for the longest moment, studying him with her clear blue eyes, until she finally spoke. “Have you ever done something regrettable, my lord? Something that suggests exceedingly poor judgment on your part, and for which you will never be able to forgive yourself?”

The question gave him pause, not so much because of how unexpected it was but because of what it told him about Lady Sarah . . . and because of its importance. He sensed that if he told her he had not, it would put an immediate end to their newly established acquaintanceship, while if he spoke the truth, it would bring them closer somehow. “Yes,” he said simply.

She waited a moment, but then she nodded, as if deciding she would believe him. When she made to continue along the path, Christopher caught her gently by the arm, halting her progress. “Lady Sarah,” he told her seriously, “it's impossible for me to imagine what kind of burden might be troubling you, but I do know how difficult it can be to feel as though you've acted stupidly—­to fear the judgment of others if they were to discover your folly.” She tried to pull away, her face increasingly devoid of emotion with every breath she took, as if she was building a wall between them. Persistent as ever, Christopher slipped his hand down around hers and raised it to his lips, kissing her gloved knuckles before saying, “You needn't confide in me. Not ever. But I would like for you to know that as unlikely as you may find it, I am your friend, if you wish it. So are my sisters.”

Her whole demeanor seemed to change in response to that promise, and she suddenly smiled wide and beautifully. “Thank you,” she said, those gorgeous eyes of hers dancing with joy. “You are most kind.”

Her happiness in response to such a small gesture filled him with pleasure, and it struck him that it was harder for him to train his emotions around her today than it had been yesterday. Somehow, she'd reached inside his chest with her confession and spoken directly to his heart.

Retreat,
his inner voice told him.

Pushing aside the compassion that muddled his brain and weakened his defenses, Christopher tried to consider Lady Sarah objectively. She was not like Miss Hepplestone, he decided, or any other young lady he'd ever met, for that matter. He hadn't lied when he'd told Lady Sarah that women coveted him, chased him even, to the point where one such woman had delivered the performance of a lifetime in her attempt to wed him. None of it had been genuine, and Christopher had never felt more used or humiliated.

But with Lady Sarah it was different. She made no attempt to seek his company or to try and charm him. In fact, the only interest she'd shown in him had had nothing to do with his title or wealth but rather with his passion for castles. Additionally, she had made it clear to him and to Fiona that she planned to marry Mr. Denison.