The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (35 page)

“I had to see you.”

She unfastened her cloak and he automatically stepped forwards to take it from her. She wore a simple day gown in a light material and her hair was caught back only with a satin ribbon. She looked young, fresh, and so damned beautiful that when she gazed at him with those entrancing dark-blue eyes he found himself irrationally unconcerned about why she’d come after all.

She was
there.

Still, however he might feel about her presence, it was a very reckless thing for her to do. London at night was not the safest place for an unaccompanied female. “You little fool, couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow? If you sent a note to my office, I would have paid a call at once if it was urgent, you know that.”

“I know, but Aunt Beatrice would be there also. I wanted to talk to you alone. Besides, there is no possible way I could go to sleep.” Her smile was strained. “We have a bit of a crisis, I’m afraid.”

“I see. In that case, shall we go into my study where there is still a fire and I can hear this with some brandy at hand?”

“I drank two glasses of claret earlier,” Sabrina said with a moue of distaste, “and you know I loathe the stuff. You might need the brandy.”

“In that case,” he muttered darkly, “by all means let us go into my study.”

He led her down the hall and stirred the fire while she settled into one of the shabby chairs he kept meaning to replace but hadn’t gotten around to doing so yet because, truthfully, it was comfortable and he was the only one who used it. Sabrina looked more feminine and alluring than ever against the backdrop of his masculine furnishings and dark panelled walls. She settled her skirts around her in a dainty way as she glanced around at the cluttered bookcases and the papers piled on his desk. When she caught sight of the watercolour above the fireplace she’d painted years ago of the very river where they’d played as children, her eyes widened. It probably wasn’t a work of art in the eyes of most people — even she admitted her artistic bent did not lie with the brush — but he liked it and had kept it.

“Now then,” he said to distract her attention from the painting and forestall her asking why he’d hung it in his study, “what is this ‘crisis’?”

“Lord Bloomfield called on me this evening.”

He wasn’t too surprised. The man was a charlatan in the way he presented himself to the scientific world, but he wasn’t a fool. All along they’d both known he would easily guess who had broken into his house because of what was missing. “Don’t tell me he had the nerve to accuse you of rifling his desk?” Stephen propped one arm on the mantel and raised his brows in enquiry.

“No.” Sabrina glanced away. Her cheeks looked suspiciously pink. “He knows we spent the night together at the inn. He came by to ostensibly congratulate me on my marriage.”

Stephen digested this, the ramifications immediately evident, his feelings in flux. Having to marry him because she was forced by looming scandal was different than
wanting
to be his wife. “He’s more resourceful than I gave him credit for,” he said finally, trying to gauge Sabrina’s expression. “I assumed he would know it was you, but hardly thought he’d bestir himself to play detective over how the deed was accomplished.”

She lifted her slender shoulders, her eyes shadowed by long lashes and not quite meeting his. “He had a piece of paper with him that I assume is the innkeeper’s description of us. He pulled it out of his pocket like it was a holy relic. I’d guess the man signed it, for Lord Bloomfield acted as if it was irrefutable proof.”

And while Sabrina had led an unconventional life up until now, what with all her travels, her reputation had been pristine.

This was entirely his fault. The seduction at the inn, while not planned when she’d asked him to help her, was an opportunity seized.

“So he is going to make this public knowledge, I take it.” His voice was remarkably calm.

“That was the threat. He mentioned that if I stayed overnight at an inn with a man who wasn’t my husband, well, that would be unfortunate for my reputation.”

Was this the opening he hoped would one day present itself? Stephen still wasn’t sure. Sabrina wasn’t obviously hinting she expected an offer. Instead, she looked at him as if she wanted him to miraculously come up with a solution for this problem.

He had one, he just wasn’t sure she would like it.

On the other hand, for him, it would be a dream come true.

“He wants the notes back, obviously.”

“No,” she instantly responded. “That is out of the question.”

“Then perhaps it would be advisable for us to marry as soon as possible.” He did his best to look and sound neutral.

Sabrina’s soft mouth parted. She visibly swallowed and her hands clenched in the material of her muslin skirts. “Stephen, I did not come here to coerce you into marrying me, I—”

He interrupted smoothly, “It’s a legitimate offer. I’ll visit your aunt tomorrow … no, today.” A pointed glance at the clock emphasized the late hour. “After all, I did dishonour you, Sabrina, unless you’ve forgotten what we did that night.”

Is that how he referred to those hours of tender pleasure? Sabrina wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh hysterically or pick up one of his books and throw it at him — preferably a heavy tome. He was propped casually against the mantel, his expression neutral, the midnight silk of his hair distractingly rumpled around his clean-cut features, his white shirt casually unbuttoned at the neck.

He’d just proposed marriage in the most unsentimental way possible.

“No,” she said succinctly.

Something flickered in his eyes. “No,” he repeated. “I guess I am not surprised the idea doesn’t appeal to you, but let’s keep in mind it is possible you carry my child.”

What she’d meant was no, she hadn’t forgotten all those wicked and wonderful things they’d done together, but she didn’t wish to force him to commit to a marriage he didn’t want just because of her reckless inclinations.

“I’ve thought of that,” she admitted. What was curious about it was her reaction to the idea of being pregnant with Stephen’s child. It filled her with an unexpected joy that took her off guard. “We should know within the next week or two. If I’m not with child, then the point is moot.”

“Is it?” he asked, looking at her with an enigmatic expression.

“Yes … I mean, or no … it isn’t that,” she muttered, not sure what question she was answering or even what she was saying.

Her and Stephen …
married?
If she was honest with herself, she’d thought about that quite a lot. Before this most recent escapade, she’d always considered him her very best friend, the boy who’d been her childhood playmate. But now that perception had certainly changed. He was very much a man and, moreover, a very attractive man.

He ran his hand through his hair. “A little clarification would be appreciated. If you don’t wish to marry me, I understand. I have little to recommend such a match. No fortune, no title, and we both know you could do better.”

Is that what he thought? Men were such obtuse creatures. Sabrina stared at him and took a deep breath before replying. “Can I point out how little titles and money impress me? I need neither. Don’t be a complete idiot, Stephen. It’s just this is my fault, for I’m the one who wanted to break into Bloomfield Hall. You needn’t shoulder the problem to protect me.”

A faint smile quirked his mouth. “As I recall, staying at the inn and what happened next was
my
idea. We always did manage to get into trouble together.”

Sabrina shoved herself to her feet and paced across the room. “I came here to warn you there might be a scandal unless we do something to keep Lord Bloomfield from spreading rumours,
not
to reminisce over our past misbehaviour. Do you have any ideas?”

“I believe I put one forth but it wasn’t met with enthusiasm.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You could trade His Lordship the notes for his silence.”

“Never.” That was out of the question. Her father’s life’s work was not going to be claimed by a fraud.

“I thought that’s what you’d say. Then marry me.”

Sabrina looked at him in exasperation, but something in his expression suddenly held her arrested, locked in the moment. It reminded her of how he’d gazed at her before he kissed her that first time, how reverently his hands had drifted across her skin, the sensation of him over her, inside her, how deliciously pleasurable that night had been.

If she married him, that passion could be hers for ever. It was a tantalizing idea.

But she was a romantic at heart and she hated the thought he was offering out of duty, or even friendship. It was just so
Stephen
to take on the problem without a thought about his own happiness.

She faltered. “I … I know you are sincere because you specialize in rescuing maidens in trouble, but—”

He straightened away from the fireplace and took a step towards her. “Just one troublesome maiden,” he interrupted, his voice soft, persuasive. “Only you, Sabrina. Always you. It has always, always been you. And just in case you wish to keep harping on how this is all your fault, I have a confession to make. There were more rooms available at the inn that night.”

The intensity in his eyes made her catch her breath. “There were?”

He nodded and advanced. “I’d waited for years for a chance like that. You and me, and a convenient bed … how could I let it pass by? I suppose I should feel guilty for lying to you, but I don’t.”

Strong hands caught her waist and Sabrina found herself in his embrace, his mouth nuzzling her neck. There was no helping the small sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips, or the shiver of anticipation that rippled through her when he murmured against her skin, “Would it be possible to worry about Bloomfield in the morning? It seems to me I need to convince you my solution is a sound one. Will you stay a little longer?”

She shouldn’t.

They
shouldn’t. But then again, when they were together long enough their actions bordered on reckless.

It wasn’t too surprising she melted against him, her fingers curling into his dark hair, her breasts pressing against his chest. She gasped when he swept her up in his arms and walked out the door into a small hallway, but it was a sound of delight, not protest. His bedroom was austere, like the rest of the rooms, but it did have a nice bed, which she discovered was quite comfortable when he deposited her on the mattress and began to unfasten her clothes. Just as eagerly, she unbuttoned his shirt, the warmth of his skin under her questing fingertips causing a curl of excitement deep in her belly. Her gown, chemise, garters, stockings and slippers were carelessly tossed aside. When Sabrina fumbled trying to undo his breeches, he ended up doing it himself.

“I’m seducing you again,” he murmured as he settled on top of her body in a smooth athletic movement. “And if this time doesn’t do it — fair warning — I’ll continue to seduce you until even someone as reckless and unconventional as you agrees to take the respectable route and become my wife.”

Sabrina gave a breathless laugh, the length of him pressed against her inner thigh, hot and hard. “You
can
be infuriatingly determined when you want something.”

He nibbled her lower lip. “Think of the adventures we can share. I’ve never seen a rainforest or ridden a camel.”

It was a generous offer, for she knew he loved England and was at heart a respectable gentleman. She would wager most of the trouble he’d gotten into in his childhood was due to her instigation. Very lightly she touched his lean cheek. “I don’t think my wanderlust is quite what it once was. Staying home holds a certain appeal and, for your information, riding a camel really isn’t all that much fun. They are rather ill-tempered creatures.”

He laughed and kissed her, and then the kiss turned molten and his hands were everywhere, caressing, exploring, evoking small tingles of pleasure. And when he joined their bodies and sank deep inside her, she experienced a bliss that wasn’t just due to the physical enjoyment of the moment, but also to the poignant way he whispered her name.

That glorious summit rose, the peak promised rapture and, when she gained it and toppled over, she clung to him and quivered in unabashed erotic release, made all the more intense and satisfying when he went rigid and she felt him shudder.

“I suppose I
could
marry you to foil Lord Bloomfield’s malicious revenge,” she teased as they lay in damp contentment afterwards, her head pillowed comfortably on his muscular chest. “Though I do have one stipulation.”

“Oh? How clever of you to strike a bargain when I am in my current weakened condition.” His lazy smile made him more devastatingly handsome than ever. “Do tell.”

“You must promise to continue to seduce me.”

“I believe I can make that concession.” His grin faded and those crystal grey eyes glimmered with a serious light. “I think you know I would give you anything within my power. I’ve loved you as long as I can remember. It changed, of course, as we got older, but it was always there.”

“I think I have always loved you too,” Sabrina said slowly, “though I admit I didn’t recognize the difference between friendship and romance. You were just
you
. It’s funny to think I didn’t see it. After each trip, the moment I return to England, my very first order of business is to see you. Once I do, I am truly home. And when I am away, though it is all exciting and interesting, I miss you and think of you often.”

“Picture me here, worrying over what kind of danger you might be in and myself a continent or ocean too far away to help you.” His voice held just a hint of a ragged edge and his long fingers smoothed her hair. “It was torment.”

It was galling to think she had Lord Bloomfield’s devious machinations to thank for her current state of happiness, but in a convoluted way she supposed she did. “If we are going to marry,” she said, snuggling even closer, relishing the feel of Stephen’s arm around her, “Lord Bloomfield’s petty threat is foiled, but he could still remain vengeful and isn’t without influence. I suppose I could loan him the notes needed to finish the paper he has started if he agrees to credit my father as an equal partner.”