An Improper Encounter (The Macalisters Book 3)

by Erica Taylor

  “Just this, Will,” she whispered. “This is enough for now.”

  Pulling her to him and holding her, he dropped a kiss into her hair, lemony and sweet as he had come to expect. The smell was comforting in ways that a one-day acquaintance should not be. He was embedded too deep in her spell.

  One more day with this woman, one more day to avoid thinking about his meeting with his father, one more day to convince himself that, if he was incredibly lucky, he might be able to keep Sarah for good.

  Their second travel day was remarkably smoother than the first and thankfully absent of carriage accidents and screaming children. The sun made an appearance, drying the roads enough to allow for more expedient travel. Grateful that William didn’t suggest they take the horses instead of the carriage, as Sarah’s bottom was still smarting from the two thumps she’d taken the day before, she was content to share a carriage with him, even if the journey was soon to come to an end. The only shadow cast across such a brilliantly bright autumn day was the knowledge that they would reach London by nightfall.

  If William was burdened by the same realization, he hadn’t mentioned it. Instead, he seemed relaxed and cheerful, though Sarah couldn’t help but notice the apprehension behind his eyes. His meeting with his father was on his mind, as much as he wanted to hide it.

  They stopped in a charming little town called Higgleswade for luncheon and to change horses. Entering the taproom of the largest coaching inn, the Swan and Hoof, Sarah noticed an air of excitement that was rather contagious. The Swan and Hoof was livelier than any of the other inns she had stayed at on her journey with people bustling in and out, a merry skip in everyone’s step, all laughing and smiling. It wasn’t just humor or happiness, it was excitement.

  “Will you be staying for the assembly?” asked the inn-keeper’s young daughter as she brought them a tray of tea with a slice of the carrot cake Sarah had eyed when they arrived. She hadn’t said anything about it; William must have noticed her interest.

  “The assembly?” Sarah asked, taking a bite of the cake.

  The girl, not more than fifteen, nodded eagerly. “The Autumn Harvest Festival—it’s been happening all week. Tonight it concludes with an assembly, the largest in the county this time of year. Not quite as grand as the ones in London, but it’s still a wonderfully lovely time.”

  William raised a brow inquisitively, but Sarah frowned. They were strangers to this town; staying for their festivities would be rude. Besides, she had no gowns appropriate for such an event in her traveling wardrobe. She couldn’t very well wear a day dress to an evening event

  “It sounds like a splendid diversion from days of traveling,” William said brightly to the barmaid. “We would love to attend, and if you have a room to spare for the evening, my wife and I would be obliged to spend the night. Wouldn’t we, Wife?”

  Smiling as politely as she could manage, Sarah wanted to throttle him. “Of course. It sounds like an enchanting evening.”

  The teenage barmaid grinned, a few unruly brown curls bobbing around her face. “I will see what we have remaining. You will have a splendid time! Mr. and Mrs . . .”

  “Gordon,” William replied.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gordon,” she repeated. “How lovely you two are.” She smiled brightly and went off to book their room.

  “Why are we staying for the assembly?” Sarah asked him in a harsh whisper before taking another bite of the cake. It was quite good, moist and sweet.

  William shrugged and took a sip of his tea. “Did you want to spend the remaining hours of this beautiful day in a carriage? I don’t know about you, but I am not too terribly eager to reach London.”

  Sarah sank back in her chair and sighed. He was right. Anything to prolong their inevitable separation. But what would she wear? The inhabitants of this lovely little town might think it odd if a married woman wore blacks and greys to an assembly and refused to dance with her husband.

  William took a last sip of his tea and went to the bar counter to settle their bill and confirm the room booking for the evening. Sarah watched him, sad that this could be their last night together. Did she want that? Did he?

  She wanted their time together to mean something. It was completely irrational, but the past two days had been the most amazing and exhilarating of her life. Her life had contorted into a never ending well of nothingness, constructed on the foundation of what was proper and expected of widowhood, strengthened with grey gowns and few allowed amusements. William had blasted through all of that in a myriad of color, and she didn’t want to give him up just yet. His energy was like a drug, and if she had to be addicted to something, it was probably not the best idea to crave a man whose real name she didn’t even know.

  Though did that matter anymore? Did she care? Sarah feared she was past any of those details having any weight on her decisions.

  Returning to their table, William offered his arm. “Would you care to take a stroll through the village?” he asked.

  She did not want to give up living, and that was what William had brought out in her. An excitement for the unknown, a daringness she had forgotten she possessed. Why shouldn’t they enjoy the festivities? Why shouldn’t she embrace the spontaneity and live what could be her last day with him to the fullest?

  With a determined smile, Sarah nodded. “Absolutely. Let us see what Higgleswade has to offer.”

  The town was a more bustling market town than Sarah had originally realized, and as they stepped into the bright autumn sun, she linked her arm in William’s as they set off down the street. It was a charming town, with a long high street stretching up a hill. Shops lined the cobblestone streets, and little bits of paper confetti were still visible at the base of the bushes and sidewalk, from a parade perhaps. As it was late October, the townspeople were celebrating the harvest.

  A breeze rustled past, pulling at the unruly chocolate curls that had escaped from Sarah’s coiffure, but she paid them no mind. It was blissfully peaceful to waltz up the street, admiring the various wares for sale in the shop windows, not having a care about who she might see.

  “Here we are,” William said, steering her towards a seamstress’s shop.

  “What are we doing here?” Sarah wondered out loud as he ushered her inside, the little bell jingling as they entered the shop.

  William looked sheepish, but didn’t reply as a woman came out from the back room, a bright smile on her face.

  “Good afternoon!” she greeted them warmly. “I am Mrs. Paige. How may I be of assistance?”

  “My wife and I wish to attend the assembly this evening, but our trunks have been soaking in the rains this past weekend, and all of her gowns were ruined. As she does not want to wear borrowed greys to such a joyous occasion, might you have something that can be quickly altered for my lovely bride?”

  Mrs. Paige turned her gaze onto Sarah, her eyes brightening as she nodded. “Oh I would, as a matter of fact.”

  Sarah looked from Mrs. Paige to William, alarmed, but too polite to outright call William on his lies. Her eyes flared as she looked pointedly at William.

  “Allow me to show you what I have in mind,” Mrs. Paige said quickly, realizing she might lose the sale. As soon as she disappeared into the back room, Sarah rounded on William.

  “Did you lose some of your common sense in that river yesterday?” she snapped. “This is starting to get out of control. The assembly is one thing, but I cannot allow you to buy me a dress.”

  Crossing his arms across his broad chest, he asked, “And why ever not? You wanted to attend the assembly. I saw how your eyes lit up when it was mentioned, so don’t pretend that I am forcing you to go. And I know you were troubled about what to wear, and since you hate your greys, I surmised this would be an acceptable solution. I was trying to do something nice for you. Was I wrong to think this would please you?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to reply but quickly shut it, realizing she had overreacted. He was only tryin
g to take care of her, do something nice for her. William had thought about her feelings and what she wanted—first the cake, now the gown.

  Sarah looked away as tears sprung to her eyes, threatening to spill over as they had the night before. Oh, the feeling of having someone take care of her! It had been a very long time since anyone had gone out of their way to attend to her needs. Her family was loving, but they saw her so much as a second mother that they rarely considered her as anything other than a caretaker. She was the first to rush in and make sure everyone had what they needed—a shoulder to cry on, a sounding board, a confidant—but it was a rare event when someone did the same to her, so much so that she hardly recognize it.

  “Here we are!” came Mrs. Paige’s voice as she came from the back room holding a gorgeously soft satin gown. It wasn’t as luxurious or ostentatious as the ones worn in London, but it was still elegant and a beautiful example of craftsmanship.

  The evening gown was perfect, Sarah realized, wishing with every ounce of her being that she could muster the courage to wear it.

  “It’s yellow,” Sarah said, softly, fingering the delicate satin.

  “Is that a problem?” Mrs. Paige asked hesitantly. “It is a lovely shade and will perfectly complement your coloring and hair. It only needs a few adjustments, I think. It was part of an order for a young woman who ended up not going to London for the Little Season, so her gown order was canceled.”

  “Try it on, Sarah,” William said gently. She gazed up at him, pleading with him to understand that while she was grateful for his generosity, she just couldn’t wear such a color.

  Understanding her hesitation, he said softly, “It’s only a color. It won’t hurt you.”

  Mrs. Paige pulled her into the back room, Sarah not saying a word in protest, too overwhelmed by what he was asking her to do to form a verbal refusal.

  I know a color cannot actually hurt me, Sarah thought as the seamstress’s assistant started on the buttons up the back of her grey walking dress. The idea was enticing. She was unknown here. William had told them all she was his wife, it made sense for her to wear bright beautiful colors. He’d explained away her perceived odd choice for gowns, who was to know none of it was the truth?

  Her grey dress was removed, and the lovely sunflower yellow gown was slipped over her head. It was gathered lightly along the bust line, with a blue and brown embroidered ribbon tied across the middle, coordinating swirls of embroidery along the bottom hem, and a strip of chocolate brown reaching below the golden yellow. The jovial color surged life into her veins.

  She could pretend, she decided, for a few more hours that she was not the dowdy widow of an abusive husband.

  She could playact the part of a besotted wife, even if the man filling the role of her husband was virtually a stranger to her.

  Sarah watched her reflection as the seamstress and her assistant fluttered about, pinning up the unfinished hem, as that was really all that needed to be adjusted. The gown fit perfectly, as if it had been waiting here for her, a beam of light into her dim existence.

  “You mentioned other gowns?” Sarah slowly asked, her mind an eddy of emotions. “Is there a day dress that can be altered as well? Something to wear for today.”

  “There is a morning dress we can hem up in a trice,” Mrs. Paige replied.

  “I don’t want to cause you extra work,” Sarah said quickly. “You must be quite busy with last minute alterations for the townspeople’s assembly attire. Please, finish theirs before mine.”

  “Oh, nothing like that now,” the seamstress said, pinning along the hem. “The assembly was supposed to be on Saturday last, but with the storms that blew through, it was postponed to today. We finished all the other alterations during the storm. These two hem jobs will take but an hour or so together. Would you like me to have the day dress done first?”

  Sarah nodded. “If you please. Have this yellow dress sent up to the Swan and Hoof. We’ve taken a room for the evening. If you don’t mind, I will just wait here until the day dress is ready. I don’t . . .” Sarah swallowed looking fearful at her grey gown. “I don’t want to put that one on again just yet.”

  Mrs. Paige offered her a small, reassuring smile. “As you wish, dear.” She took the grey gown with her, leaving Sarah alone in the fitting room, standing in her stays and shift before a full-length mirror.

  For a long moment she stood looking at her reflection, remembering William’s hands on her the night before. She saw the woman she knew, the same face she saw every day in the reflecting glass, and yet, somehow she seemed younger, freer. Her cheeks were rosier, probably from the romp she and William had taken on horseback the day before in the bright sunlight, before the rains had set in. Her lips lifted into a half smile as she remembered how she fell unceremoniously from her horse into a stream of water. She hadn’t laughed that hard in years; there really had never been a reason for such amusement. It wasn’t that she was a lonely person, and she had people around her who loved her; she just wasn’t sure anyone actually saw her, actually saw her unhappiness.

  Until William. That beast of a man, who wouldn’t tell her his real name, whom she had known for less than forty-eight hours, had seen her unhappiness and made strides to fix it. He’d cared enough about her to act on her behalf, had done something for her merely because he wanted to see her happy.

  I must not fall in love with him, Sarah chided herself.

  But really, why not? Why could she not take such a leap of faith? Had she been that worried about her heart, she would have never invited him to journey with her to London. She’d wanted to fall in love with him, wanted to keep him from the very beginning.

  And like that, her reservations melted away. She was a grown woman; she could do whatever she wanted, so long as she was willing accept the consequences. She could fall happily in love with a man who likely possessed the character to keep her happy. If the past two days were any indication, they would be well suited. Thus far, even so early in their acquaintance, he was drastically different than Geoffrey, in every way possible. When they reached London, she would find a way to keep him in her life. Her first marriage had been a disaster, did that mean all relationships were? She deserved a chance to see what sort of happiness this could lead to.

  Resisting the urge to follow Sarah and the seamstress through to the fitting rooms, all William could do was pace the short length of the front room of the dressmaker’s small shop. After Sarah’s eyes had turned up to his, uncertainty racing through them, he wondered if he had made a huge mistake.

  Stalking the wooden floors of the dressmaker’s shop, William was restless. His meeting with his father was weighing heavily on his mind, and while his delaying their arrival in London was largely due to not wanting to part from Sarah just yet, it was almost equally the impending reunion which had spurred him into staying put for the night. He only had a few more hours. A few more hours with Sarah, a few more hours until he came face to face with the man who had despised him solely because he had been born.

  He was grateful his brother stood between him and the title. Heath had to be married with sons by now. They had kept in touch in the beginning, when William first escaped their father’s hatred, but as the years progressed and William went off to mend the wounded men in the war, their letters became fewer and fewer until he only heard from his brother when something important had occurred. William had sent word when he returned to Scotland safe from the horrors of the war, but had not heard anything from his brother until two weeks earlier. A letter had arrived from his brother’s secretary, simply informing him that his father was gravely ill and had things he wanted to say to William before he died, and if William would please return to grant a dying man his last wishes.

  William’s first inclination had been to refuse, but as much as he despised his father, he didn’t despise his brother. A part of him felt betrayed when Heath didn’t leave with him, but Heath was the heir. Heath had to stay put so William cou
ld escape.

  And escape he had, to Scotland, to his mother’s family who had provided him with some semblance of a childhood and a home to rival the one he had been denied. He’d been given the chance at an education, provided himself with a life he could be proud of and one in which he found fulfillment. There could be nothing his father had to say to him that would have any lasting impact on his life, and yet, he was curious. So he had decided to make the journey south, only to be met with heavy rains and the lovely, endearing face of Sarah offering him shelter and transport and now here he was buying her a dress.

  Looking around wildly, William wanted to laugh at the absurd direction his journey had taken. He had to be honest with Sarah and hope his father’s name and his own unsavory birthright didn’t deter her affections. He knew she had affections for him. He could see his own reflected in her eyes, could feel it in her soft touches and kisses. How he had become entwined so thoroughly in this woman in such a short time was frightening, but he was willing to do what was needed to keep her in his life.

  “Mr. Gordon?” came the seamstress’s voice as she stepped into the front room.

  “How goes the fitting?” he asked.

  The seamstress smiled warmly. “Your wife will be along in a while. She has requested a second gown to be made up for day wear. I’ve set my girls to work on it in addition to the evening dress.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I have a coordinating bonnet to go with the day dress, if you are interested?”

  “Whatever she needs. My wife . . .” Even saying the words, however false they may have been, sent a warm shiver straight through his heart. “My wife doesn’t approve of my spending for such things when she views the clothes she has as perfectly suitable. But I’d like to spoil her, even if it is just this once.”

  Mrs. Paige’s face melted at the perceived declaration of spousal devotion, and she clutched her hands to her chest before dipping into a quick curtsy and disappearing again behind the curtain to the back rooms.