To Sin With A Stranger (20 page)

He slipped a hand beneath her, into the small of her back, and pressed upward. Heated bliss slammed through her in time with his thrusts. Spasms so violent that she felt her muscles clench down on him.

Throwing his head back, Sterling stiffened at the moment of her climax, and a sheen of sweat dampened his lawn shirt.

Isobel could feel the pounding of Sterling’s heart against her ribs. He leaned up and looked lovingly into her eyes—she thought he might say something, but he didn’t—instead he kissed her lips softly.

She smiled and wrapped her arms tighter around him. No, he hadn’t said it, but she knew.
He loved her
.

It was a warm day, the first in a full week. Isobel sat on a large stone beside Sterling. She’d peeled her stockings from her legs and was swirling her toes in the cool water of the pond.

Her head rolled around, and she rested her chin on her shoulder as she peered up at him and watched him rolling a pale green reed between his lips. She smiled thoughtfully. “It is so peaceful here. So beautiful. Someday I should like to live in a place like this. No worries about gossip, and appearances. No fears of
on dit
columnists crawling through the hedgerows.” She laughed then. “Sterling, what is it like where you come from?”

Sterling cupped her shoulders and moved her so that she rested her back against his chest. “A bit like this. Restful, when there is not work to be done to keep the ancient estate from falling down about our ears.”

“Sounds like a bit of heaven.”

“Except the work part.” When Isobel turned her gaze up to him, he kissed her cheek. “Once we were of age, my brothers and sisters resided in the family house in Edinburgh. We were young and wild, and our ancestral home provided no little opportunity for mischief. We thought it quite boring actually.”

Isobel turned in his arms until she almost faced him. “I need to ask you about a story I heard…about your family—that you were called the Seven Deadly Sins. You do not need to talk of it if you do not wish it. I shouldn’t wish to pry. I only want to know you better. We are complete strangers to each other’s pasts.”

Sterling flinched at that, but nodded. “It’s true enough.” He looked out over the water, pausing briefly for a long breath before beginning. “Once our mother died birthing the twins, our father decided that whisky was the best way to deal with his grief.”

Isobel ran her hand down his arm to comfort him.

“For years, he gave us leave to do whatever took our fancy. It didn’t matter what it was. He did not guide or discipline us. After a time, we wanted his attention so badly that our exploits grew worse, far more extreme…some say almost legendary in their wickedness.”

Isobel shook her head. “I cannot believe that.”

“Och, it’s true. I wish I could tell you differently, but I cannot.” He bent and reached down beside the boulder to retrieve a flat stone, then drew back his arm and skipped it across the water. “Before long, our neighbors quietly referred to us as the Seven Deadly Sins.” His eyes remained on the water, unwavering. “My sisters cried when they heard what we were being called, and my brothers lashed out. Got into fights. Soon the neighbors didn’t bother to whisper their taunts anymore.”

“That’s beastly. You were only children.”

“Aye, but we were unruly as they come. We defied any rules, for no reason at all, disobeyed any authority…but the names still stung and the tears still came.” He looked at her then. “Are you certain you wish to hear more?”

“I do. I want to understand.”

Sterling nodded, then sought the visual calm of lapping water again. “Being the eldest, I devised a game to protect us from the pain of others. We each chose one of the seven deadly sins and made it our own whenever we were in public. We became proud of our wickedness and our ability to distress others.”

Isobel did not understand this. He could not be talking of himself and his brothers and sisters. “But you are not like that…not now—any of you.”

“Well, my father may disagree with you on that.” He pulled her closer to him. “You see, after a few years, our sins stopped being a game. They became as much a part of us as the color of our eyes or the hair upon our heads. That is, until my father finally put down his bottle and realized the true damage his absence from our lives had caused.”

“And this is why he sent you here, to London?” Isobel asked. She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly, coaxing him to continue.

“Aye. He is a rich and powerful man. One day, he had carriages brought to the door and in that instant, cast us out of Scotland. He had his agent acquire a house on Grosvenor Square for us all to share. He gave us a few bob and told us we were not to return until we each had earned back the respect demanded for the name Sinclair.”

Isobel stared at him. She could not believe what he was saying.

Sterling lifted the reed from where it sat on the boulder and speared it into the pond. “So that is why we are here—to be redeemed.” He looked to her and laughed somewhat nervously. “Think it can be done, lass?”

“I do not see a man who needs redeeming—I see a man who needs to be loved.”

Sterling seemed to tremble as he leaned in to kiss her. He rose and then scooped her up, and together they tumbled onto the soft, verdant lawn. “Och, I knew there had to be something wrong with you. You were just too perfect for me. So beautiful, so passionate—but clearly no taste.” He kissed her again, then leaned back until their noses were nearly touching. “But don’t forget, lassie, my sin is greed, and I’ll not let another have you. Ever.”

“And, pray, my lord, how will you prevent that?” She shifted her weight and rolled atop him and smiled as she held his cheeks between her palms. “You must have a plan.”

He chased her lips and kissed her. “Why, I’m going to marry you, of course.”

As the hired carriage crossed Blackfriars Bridge for London, Isobel peered out the window at the gray water of the Thames and sighed with dismay. It had been another world, Beauchamp Grange, and she had experienced a day that, no matter what happened now that she and Sterling had returned to reality, would live on in her dreams both day and night.

She could scarce believe that Sterling had claimed to have a plan to marry her. Though she did not know whether he merely misspoke in the passion of the moment, or he truly meant what he said. Either way, for now, she chose to believe him.

They had crossed the bridge only a few short minutes ago, when something about her alerted Sterling of her discomposure.

He reached for her hand and squeezed. She turned from the window, creating the best smile she could, but she saw that he had already seen the sadness in her eyes.

“Lass, this is not the end. Don’t look so forlorn. There will be many days like this in our future. I promise you.” He angled his head to kiss her, when the carriage stopped suddenly.

Lurching back from her, Sterling opened the door of the cab and called out to the driver. “This isna our direction. Leicester Square, please.”

The hackney driver dropped down off his perch, sending the carriage bouncing. He hurried to the door and opened it wide, his horselike teeth bared in an excited grin. “Thought you might want to stop here first, my lord.” He winked broadly.

“Why, pray, would I wish to stop here—oh, God help us.” Sterling leaned forward and peered out the open door. He clapped a hand over his eyes momentarily, then turned to Isobel and shook his head, with an amused yet slightly horrified expression on his face.

“Doctors’ Commons.” The hackney driver beckoned them out the cab.

Isobel flinched. “No. Oh no. We cannot step out here.”

“Come on, my lord. Just pop on inside, quick like, and pick up a special license for you and Miss Carington, then you can marry anytime, anywhere.”

Sterling laughed. “I appreciate your thoughts, sirrah, but we will continue on to Leicester Square, if you don’t mind terribly.” He glanced over his shoulder at Isobel. She covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle at the absurd helpfulness of the driver.

The hackney driver furrowed his thick brows. “This ain’t a request, my lord.”

Sterling glared at him. “I beg your pardon.” He leaned forward to block the opening to the door, then reached a hand out behind him and pressed Isobel against the backrest. “Leicester Square, please.”

“No, sir, I can’t take you anywhere.” He shook his head. “My wife’d have me hide if I let your lovely day end now.”

“Y-your wife?” Isobel scooted around Sterling and peered out at the driver.

“Yes, miss. She is all caught up in the wager. Begs me to bring her the newspaper whenever I find one so she can read all the goings-on with the ‘romance of the Season.’ That’s what she and the other hens at the market call it…I mean, what they call your relationship.”

“You don’t have to tell her you conveyed us anywhere,” Sterling said, getting noticeably annoyed.

“I won’t have to say a word.” He stepped back and waved his hand to the crowd gathering behind him. “It will be all over London by nightfall.” Hordes of people collected outside the hackney. A young girl squeezed between the driver and Sterling and passed a violet posy to Isobel.

“So I will have to ask you to step out here. This hackney ain’t going anywhere else.” He grinned. “Got a broken spoke, I reckon.”

Sterling turned and looked to Isobel, appearing utterly astonished. “It seems we have no choice. Either we get out now, or the whole of London will be standing outside the cab within minutes.” He raised a hand to Isobel. “Stay close to me.”

Sterling stepped down from the hackney, then assisted Isobel down the steps to the pavers. Sterling reluctantly flipped the driver a few coins. They turned to depart, when the crowd divided, leaving only one path from the carriage to Doctor’s Commons.

Sterling led Isobel forward, and the throng closed the space behind them as they walked.

“What are we going to do?” Isobel asked, huddling closer to Sterling.

“I have an idea. Stay with me.” Sterling stopped walking. “Honestly, I have no coins left in my pocket. I cannot buy a special license today, so you might as well go about your afternoon.”

Isobel opened her reticule, assisting Sterling with his ploy as best she could. Suddenly it was snatched from her hand. She lurched to grab it from the woman who had taken it, but it was gone from her sight in an instant. “Sterling!”

Then she heard it. The clinking of coins.

“Here, three shillings!”

“Six bob!”

“A sovereign, from me and my gel!”

Within a minute, the reticule was back in Isobel’s hand, only now it was filled with coins.

“Oh, Sterling…what now?”

He shrugged and thrust his free hand toward Doctors’ Commons. “Well, I suppose I ought to go inside for a special license, eh?” He took the reticule from her hand and held it in the air. The crowd roared, and applause filled the air around them.

Isobel clapped a hand over her lips as Sterling hurried her forward.

Gorblimey
. He truly meant to marry her!

It was amazing what a modicum of notoriety and the backing of a hundred Londoners could do to aid in the acquisition of a special license to marry. Within an hour, Sterling and Isobel were at the pavers again, heading for the hackney stand to find a way to get Miss Carington home.

Isobel was giddy and skipped alongside Sterling, washed away in the romance of the day. Sterling was not. Legally his path was clear to marry Miss Carington, but there was still an impediment to a speedy union. Her father.

The hackney driver was still waiting at the edge of the pavers. “Now, see, it was a fine idea to stop here before Leicester Square, now wasn’t it?” He walked to the rear left wheel and shook it. “And look here. Spokes are good as new—like there was never nothing wrong at all.” He opened the door to the hackney. “Leicester Square, my lord?” He stood straight and tall, like a guard before St. James’s Palace.

Sterling rose up on the toes of his boots and peered down the road. No other hackneys were in sight. He looked at Isobel, her face bright with hope. “My lady, your…ahem, carriage awaits.”

She took his proffered arm and went inside. When the door closed and the wheels rolled over the cobbles, she knew it was time she must warn Sterling. “I do not know whether my father will agree to our marriage. There was a time, only days ago, when I was hard set against marrying anyone, and he had only you in his mind.”

“But my discussion with Lord Elgin changed all of that.”

“I honestly don’t know.” Her eyes grew watery. “He did not wish me anywhere near you last night at the musicale and had a notion that a Mr. Burke Leake, the staid yet well-connected member of the Society of Dilettanti, might be a politically more advantageous match for his wayward daughter.”

Sterling reached out and took her into his arms. “What is it that you want, Isobel?”

She turned her head up to him. “I want to spend every day like today.”

“Och, I did like the bit about crowds filling your bag with money.” He grinned, then kissed the top of her head.

She gave him a playful push. “You know what I mean. Together. Happy. In love.”

Sterling didn’t say a word, but turned his head to peer out the window. Something seemed to concern him greatly. “I want those things too,” he said, in a voice as soft as the breeze blowing through the window. “And I will have them, all.” He shifted on the bench. “I will call upon your father tonight at nine of the clock to make an offer for you. I don’t wish to wait any longer, for the newspaper to print some audacious column about the ‘romance of the Season.’”

He waggled his brows at her, as if to break the tension stretched so tightly between them.

“I will make sure he is prepared…and knows of my feelings for you.” She glanced down and felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Do you know, I have not told you the most important thing you should know about me.”

“And what is that, my sweet lass?”

She raised her head, wanting to look into his eyes as she said it. “That I love you, Sterling. I love you.”

“Och, Isobel.” He pulled her close against his chest, then caught her chin and turned it up to kiss her mouth. “You don’t know how happy you make me.”