Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series)

by Rainy Kirkland

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah awoke to find the room full of dusty shadows. For the briefest moment she lay in panic, not knowing where she was. But as she moved to sit, her stiff muscles brought back instant awareness. The carriage ride had taken nearly six hours over the bumpiest roads she had ever traveled. And although Nick had had the driver stop often for her comfort, she had arrived at the plantation exhausted. Mrs. Carlson had taken one sympathetic look in her direction, glared at Nick, and then whisked her away from the hectic preparations.

  Realizing she must have slept away the remainder of the afternoon, Sarah rose and peered out the window. Formal gardens filled with blue and pink larkspur wound around the side of the house, while beyond, green fields of tobacco stretched as far as the eye could see. The sun slipped from view and the sky flared with brilliant shades of fuchsia and gold. As the katydids began their song, Sarah basked in the beauty laid out before her.

  "You were more than bountiful when you created Virginia, Lord," she whispered, then watched a hawk circle lazily overhead until it disappeared from view in the swaying tops of the distant trees.

  The evening breeze turned chilly, and Sarah reluctantly moved from the window. Her stomach grumbled noisily as she slipped back into the black velvet gown and tidied her hair. I've got to find Nick, she thought. Her lips curved into a smile. And then I need food.

  With excitement soaring through her veins, Sarah descended the grand curving staircase that led to the main hall. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its candles sprinkling light like diamonds in all directions. Bowers of thick green hung everywhere and the scent of spring flowers rose to greet her.

  "So, Sleeping Beauty awakes at last."

  Sarah looked down to find a dashing man leaning lazily against the newel post at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes grew wide, for she had never seen a gentleman dressed completely in white before and she wondered briefly why anyone would choose such an impractical outfit. His hair was blond and sun-streaked, his eyes the clearest blue she had ever seen, and his smile, infectious.

  "Did you have a good rest?"

  "Sir?" she questioned.

  "Christopher Carlson at your service, madam." He executed a perfect bow.

  Sarah fought back her nerves and continued down the steps, wishing Nick was somewhere in sight. "My name is Sarah Townsend," she said softly. "I came with Mr. Beaumont."

  "Nick said you were a treasure." Christopher extended his hand as she reached the bottom step and saw the faint blush that touched her cheeks. "Now I see for myself that he was right."

  Mrs. Carlson flew out of the parlor and cast a fleeting look in their direction as she sailed by. "I hope you had a nice rest, Sarah. Chris, go put on your wig and then take Sarah in to Nick so he'll stop scowling. I think he's already frightened more than half the maids and I still have much to see to."

  "And the other half?" Chris called to his mother's retreating form.

  "Drooling on his boots as usual," came the faint reply. "Don't forget your wig."

  Sarah anxiously reached back to touch her own hair, hoping it was still well tucked beneath her lace cap, but Christopher merely laughed.

  "Mothers," he sighed. "I have thoughts that even when I'm old and gray, mine will be scurrying around and scolding me for tracking mud on the floor. Now, you tell me," he said, taking her hand and tucking it over his arm, "do you think I need to wear a wig?"

  Sarah tilted her head to the side and gave him a quizzical look. She had come to realize that except for Nick, all of the men she had come in contact with wore a hairpiece of one type or another. Oscar had even kept his on when he was chopping wood. "Don't you care for them?" she questioned.

  Christopher gave an exaggerated grimace. "Pure torture, if you ask me. I'd like to shoot the damn fool that invented them."

  A bemused expression touched her lips. "Mr. Beaumont doesn't seem to care for them, either."

  Christopher grinned and turned toward the salon. "I'll tell you a secret," he whispered. "When we were in Eton, Nick and I made a vow never to wear the blasted things. And once, when we were full of mischief and smuggled brandy, we sneaked into the headmaster's house and stole the lot of them." His eyes grew bright with laughter. "We were just innocent youths," he defended. "We had no way of knowing that most of the masters had shaved off their own hair."

  "What happened?" she gasped.

  Chris's dimples twinkled with mischief. "The next morning at breakfast all hell broke loose. Never have I seen so many naked heads at one time," he chuckled.

  "Oh dear.”

  Chris heard the worry in her voice and his smile deepened. "We were caned soundly before the entire school, and then the prefects shaved our heads. I think they were sorry they hadn't thought of the scheme," he confided, threading his fingers through his thick blond locks.

  Sarah tried to imagine Nick without his curly black hair tied back in a queue, but the image wouldn't come. Instead she could only picture a small boy being viciously beaten before an entire school. Her heart wrenched from the pain he must have suffered. "That must have been horrible."

  Christopher patted her hand where it rested on his arm. "We did have to take our meals standing for quite a few days." He looked down at her face and saw the innocence that Nick found so appealing. "Don't fret," he soothed, "It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Besides," he whispered, "Nick somehow managed to turn our bald heads into a symbol of bravery and courage. By the end of the week we were the envy of the class." At her skeptical look, Chris laughed out loud and placed his hand over his heart. " 'Tis all true, I swear. We kept our heads bare for the rest of the semester."

  Sarah gave him a dubious grin. "Now that must have been quite a sight."

  Chris shook his head as he led her into the salon. "Nick’s Gran nearly fainted when she saw us. She cried buckets and then threatened to beat us all over again."

  "And your mother?"

  Chris's white teeth sparkled as he smiled down at her. "After seeing the reaction Nick got from his grandmother, I took the way of the coward and stayed there for a few weeks until my hair started to grow back."

  Sarah's laughter bubbled forth. "You are teasing me, aren't you?"

  Chris winked. "Just ask Nick why all the girls found him so fascinating that year and see if he doesn't tell the same story."

  Sarah barely heard his words, for at that moment, her eyes located Nick as he held court on the opposite side of the room. He leaned insolently against the wall surrounded by a group of women.

  "Would you like to go outside first and find a good stick?" Chris whispered in her ear.

  Sarah blinked and pulled her attention away from the man who was making her heart race. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

  Chris struggled to conceal his grin. "Would you like to go outside and fetch a stick?" He nearly laughed at the frown that wrinkled her brow. "To fight off the ladies," he teased. Then he laughed out loud at her startled expression.

  " 'Tis not polite to scowl, Nick," Julie Carlson pouted as she walked her fingers up his arm.

  Nick tore his eyes from Sarah and looked down at the petite young woman who stood before him. "And you shouldn't be flirting on the eve of your wedding."

  Julie shrugged and tossed her blond ringlets over her shoulder in a gesture she had perfected at the age of five. "I'm not married yet. Besides, the only one I'm talking to is you." She batted her lashes.

  Nick's eyes narrowed as he bent close to her ear. "You're playing with fire."

  Julie felt his breath on her neck and her knees turned to jelly. Determined to make the most of what might be her last opportunity, she stepped closer, allowing the fullness of her skirt to press intimately against him. "And what if I said that I'm cold and need a little fire to warm me?" Coyly she gazed up at him.

  "I'd say you're a little girl looking for trouble."

  Julie stomped her foot in frustration at his amused expression. "I am not a little girl." She leaned forward to touch
a button on his waistcoat, giving him an enticing view of her charms in the process. "Just in case you haven't noticed," she whispered smugly, "I'm all grown up."

  Nick's smile turned dangerous and his eyes threatened. "If I took you up on your invitation, you'd run faster than the time Chris chased you with that black snake.

  Julie felt her heart pound in her chest and her breath was uneven. "And what if I don't run this time?"

  Nick cocked a brow, "Then your husband should give you a good spanking, my dear."

  She gasped and felt heat stain her cheeks. "Clarence won't arrive until the ceremony tomorrow."

  Their eyes locked, his in amusement for the little sister of his best friend, hers with desire for the man she had longed for since she was twelve.

  “So…” she walked her fingers up the front of his jacket.

  Frowning, Nick straightened and Julie nervously stepped back only to realize that his gaze didn't center on her. Frustrated, she turned to see Sarah smiling up at her brother. Julie looked back at Nick and jealousy filled her, for never had she seen his eyes so possessive.

  "It looks like your new lady friend is quite taken with my big brother," she purred.

  Nick's gaze never wavered. "Sarah's a friend of the family," he said easily. "Her grandmother and Gran were best friends or some such nonsense."

  "And nonsense it is if you expect me to believe that," Julie snapped. "Agatha's never traveled to the North and you know it."

  Nick narrowed his eyes and looked down at her. "And how is it in your brief years of ten and six that you have recorded every event in the life of a grand lady who is past seventy?"

  Julie fought the urge to retreat, for never had she heard such a hard edge in Nick's voice. With every ounce of willpower she possessed she forced herself to inch closer, take Nick's arm, and lean against his side. "Look at them," she sighed dreamily. "Don't you think they make a lovely couple? Even in that absurd dress, you must admit that she looks good on Christopher's arm."

  Nick was having the same thoughts and found them not at all to his liking. "Excuse me, Julie, I need to speak with your brother for a moment."

  She halted him with a hand on his arm. "I'm not fickle like some are," she said, glancing in Sarah's direction. "I'll be in the barn later tonight," she whispered, as she gave him her most smoldering look. "I'll wait for you at midnight." Then as her skirts swished, she turned and crossed the room to greet her newest guest.

  Christopher Carlson liked watching people, and Nick Beaumont was always one of his favorite subjects. From the day they had first met on the ship to England, he'd been fascinated with Nick's intensity. And although more than a score of years had passed, he's yet to meet another with Nick's relentless drive. Now, as he watched his friend from across the room, he couldn't help but chuckle.

  Nick's amused, knowing smile had all but disappeared, and when Sarah chatted and laughed with one of the neighbors, Chris watched his friend's scowl grow steadily darker. Even Julie hadn't been able to break his concentration. Chris glanced about the room, and breathed a sigh of relief that their mother was not in sight. Julie had always flirted when Nick came to visit, but tonight her seductive ways would have set a lesser heart to blaze. He smiled in sympathy as his little sister stormed past and offered a prayer that she was past the age of brewing mischief.

  You're hooked, old friend, Chris thought with satisfaction as he watched Nick help Sarah fill her plate from the food-laden table. You've never lacked a beautiful woman for your arm, but you've also never truly cared where their eyes wandered or with whom they danced. And now, Chris rubbed his hands together in delight. I think you care more than you know.

  The hour was just past midnight before Nick was able to extract himself and Sarah from the festivities. Mrs. Carlson had insisted that he and Chris were the only ones sober enough to finish hanging the garland. And when she failed to complain that neither man had yet to don his wig, Nick knew she was truly desperate. So for hours he had stood trapped atop the ladder. At first, Sarah too, had offered help, handing him bows of twisted greens. But whereas she had no reservation in enlisting Nick's assistance, Mrs. Carlson's social conscience wouldn't let Sarah, as a guest, help also. She had whisked the girl away and deposited her with a group of neighbors who had arrived early to enjoy the festivities to the fullest.

  Nick's first inclination had been to climb down from his ladder and rescue her; then his heart had swelled with pride as he watched the smiles grow around her. Chris, perched atop his own ladder, had given him their special thumbs-up sign, and Nick decided that his best course of action was to get the task completed as quickly as possible.

  He worked like a demon, causing Chris to scramble to keep up, but, despite his hectic pace, he was careful to keep Sarah constantly in view. He smiled when he heard the delightful sound of her soft laughter and struggled to conceal his frown when the men seemed to spend too much time trying to impress her. But each time he was tempted to climb down, she would look up at him. As if reading his thoughts, she would glance at the hung garland and nod her head in approval.

  They had been on the last piece when he had watched Julie take Sarah aside. She had looked up at him twice as Julie spoke to her, her violet eyes searching his for answers. And as Julie turned and left, he realized that Sarah's smile had vanished.

  In his haste to be done, Nick smashed his thumb soundly with the hammer. His hearty curse rang out at the exact moment the musicians decided to stop practice. All heads turned in his direction and he clamped his jaw hard to remain silent as pain soared through him.

  Relieved that her garland was finished, Mrs. Carlson had insisted Nick come down from the ladder immediately so she could inspect the damage. His thumb, already turning blue, was the least of his worries. Brushing aside the motherly attention, Nick navigated the crowded room with Sarah in tow, leaving Chris to contend with his mother and any other chore she deemed must be completed before morning.

  Nick guided Sarah through a maze of rooms until they reached the privacy of the back porch. He watched her shiver in the moonlight and silently doffed his coat to place it about her shoulders.

  "You really should do something about your finger," she said softly. But her head stayed bowed and her eyes refused to meet his.

  Nick stopped, leaned back against the railing, then turned Sarah to stand before him. "It's not my thumb I'm worried about." His injured hand reached up to touch her chin, raising her eyes to his. "What did she say to you?" He watched a single luminous tear gather.

  For a moment he thought she would remain silent, then, taking a deep breath and gazing past his shoulder, her words tumbled forth. "I didn't mean to shame you." Her eyes darted to his then away again. "And I have a new dress for tomorrow, but I never thought that tonight would be considered part of the celebration."

  Nick frowned. "What makes you think you have shamed me? I considered myself most fortunate. In case you didn't notice, you were the most beautiful woman in the room." Even in the moonlight he could see the color bloom in her pale cheeks.

  "It's just so hard to remember," she continued, daring to look at him. "At home this dress would be considered too grand to wear except for the most special of occasions. And even then I would be setting myself apart from my neighbors. But here . . ." she gestured about them. "Here I am dressed like a housekeeper."

  "Sarah . . ." his voice was tender. "I don't care what clothing you wear."

  Her smile was slow in coming. Did he think she hadn't noticed the questioning looks or heard the chuckles behind her back? Agatha had been right – unless she dressed the part, she was going to cause Nick nothing but embarrassment.

  Nick gave her a leering grin. "In fact, I think I would like it best if you wore none at all."

  Sarah's laughter rang out at the absurdity of his thoughts, and suddenly she realized that, like her father, Nick possessed the ability to utter a few simple words and her world became right again. "I do have a grand dress for tomorrow," she assured him
as the heat from his smile began to penetrate. "Your grandmother spent a fortune on it."

  Nick's smile deepened and he edged her closer between his legs. "Why didn't you dance this evening? I noticed you were never in want of company."

  "That's because you never stopped watching me." She tilted her head and raised a brow. "Were you afraid that I'd do something wrong?"

  Nick rested his hands on her waist and ignored her pointed look that said he should remove them. "Do you not know how to dance? I could teach you if you'd like."

  Sarah folded her arms across her chest and tried to ignore the tremors his thumbs caused as they reached up to brush back and forth across the velvet nap at her ribs. She tried to keep her voice calm, but his nearness was making it impossible. "We don't believe in instruments," she said quickly, hating the breathy sound of her words. "The ministers say they are the voice of the devil."

  Nick's eyes mirrored his astonishment. "But you sing. I've heard you. What harm can there be in an instrument that plays a tune?"

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s never made sense to me. Once, many years ago, a man came through Salem with a lyre.” Her questioning eyes looked up at Nick and she instinctively leaned closer, “His songs were so sweet that they could bring a tear to your eye. I thought it grand, for you know that David once played a lyre for King Saul.” Her voice faded off and Nick edged her closer still.

  “What happened?” he whispered. When she turned her face up to his, the light of the full moon danced on her pale cheeks and Nick felt his breath leave his body.

  “The ministers ran him out of town.” She paused in thought. “I don’t think he minded leaving until they broke his lyre.” Her body trembled and again her eyes sought his. “Why do you think they did that? He had already agreed to go. Why did they have to break his lyre?” Again Nick felt the tremors run through her. “That was the first time I ever saw a grown man cry,” she stammered.

  Lost in the beauty of her, Nick struggled to find words that might offer comfort, but finding none, he simply pulled her close and enfolded her in his arms.

  Sarah luxuriated in the warmth of his body. The clean, manly scent of him permeated her being and she felt her insides begin to melt. “I should be going,” she whispered as her cheek rubbed against his muscular shoulder. For the longest moment they stood pressed tightly together, exulting in feelings that could not be openly acknowledged. Then his head lowered and his lips touched hers. For Nick the waiting had been too long, and as his mouth moved hungrily over hers, he thought he might die from the wanting.

  Sarah pressed closer still as her arms reached up to encircle his neck. His lips drew everything from her, then returned the feelings a hundredfold. She tasted the dark, mysterious flavor of him and wondered if her thirst would ever be sated. His heart pounded against her breast and her body ached for the touch of his hands. But even so it was she who broke the kiss and stood on legs that threatened to crumple.

  “Don’t ask this of me,” her voice trembled. “I have not the strength to tell you no.” she watched passion flare in his eyes but as Nick stepped forward, she stepped back. “I wish I could be closer to you than your clothing when you’ve been caught in a spring rain, but I know for us this cannot be. I have no defenses against the desires you stir in me, so the responsibility to know what is right must belong to you.” She turned to go, slipping Nick’s coat from her shoulders. “If left to me,” she whispered, “I would throw caution to the wind and then we would both be lost.”

  Christopher smiled as he strolled by the back porch. He could hear the soft, rich baritone of Nick’s voice. And as his steps took him from their view, he couldn’t help but envy Nick for finding Sarah first. His feet moved soundlessly down the well-trod path to the barn, and he wondered what great emergency awaited him there. Nick had gone so far as to extract a promise that he would see to it, and a promise was something they rarely demanded of the other.

  He entered the barn and heard the muffled weeping even before he lit the lantern.

  “Julie?” he called, recognizing the sound of his sister’s sobs as he climbed the ladder to the loft.

  “Nick, is that you?”

  So that’s the way of it, Chris thought as he swung over the last step. In the lantern light he found his little sister propped against a bale of hay, her eyes swollen and red from crying. His chest swelled in sympathy as he crossed over to her. “Oh, little one,” he soothed, pulling her close to cry on his shoulder. “When are you ever going to learn?”

  “Where is Nick?” she demanded with a sniff. “Did you tell him to stay away from me? Is that why he didn’t come?”

  Chris brushed her tears with his thumb. “Julie, you are being married tomorrow. What are you thinking of?”

  “He told me he would come,” she whined.

  Chris stared up at the ceiling and prayed for divine inspiration. “Dear heart, Nick never told you he’d meet you here.”

  “But I’m in love with him.”

  “You might be in love with Nick, but Nick is in love with Sarah.”

  Julie pushed herself away from her brother’s shoulder so she might see his face. “Did he tell you that? Did he say those exact words? Did he say I am in love with Sarah?”

  Chris pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “My sweet, you have only to look at them to see. Have you ever known Nick to care if his lady smiled at another? Have you ever watched him scowl if she but laughed at another’s joke? He’s in love, and if my guess is not mistaken, Sarah’s in love with him, too.”

  Julie scrubbed the handkerchief across her face and soundly blew her nose. “But it’s not fair,” she pouted. “I’d be better for him than she would. She doesn’t even know how to dress. Tonight she could have been one of the servants.”

  Chris gave her curls a playful tug. “And did you see that to Nick it mattered not in the slightest?”

  Still frowning, Julie pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms about them. “I think he’s making a mistake.”

  Chris hugged her shoulder. “I think you are the one who might be making the mistake. Why are you crying over Nick when you’ve promised your heart to Clarence?”

  She shrugged and stared into the shadowy corners of the loft. “I thought I could force Nick’s hand.”

  Chris swore softly under his breath. “But if you don’t love Clarence, you should call the wedding off.”

  “What, and return all those glorious wedding presents?”

  “The presents aren’t going to keep you warm on a cold night when you’re married to a man you don’t love.”

  Julie pulled herself to her feet and gave her brother a haughty stare. “Unlike some people,” she paused, “Clarence worships the ground I walk on. I don’t’ think he’ll have any trouble keeping me warm. And Mr. Nicholas Beaumont can just put that thought in his pipe and smoke it.” With the dignity of a queen and the stubbornness of a willful child, Julie flipped her leg over the ladder and left the loft.

  “Is she all right?” Nick questioned from his perch on the back step.

  Chris reached the porch and nodded wearily. “She brings it on herself, you know, but still one can’t help feeling sorry for her. Our parents spoiled her so much when she was little that now she just doesn’t understand when she can’t have everything she wants.”

  Nick stood and stretched. “And what of tomorrow?”

  Chris shrugged. “She’ll be fine, as radiant as always. Her pride will allow her no less.”

  “What of her husband? Is he going to make her happy?”

  Chris snorted. “If giving into her every whim will make her happy, then Clarence Morgan is the right man. Julie can wrap him around her little finger.”

  Nick shook his head. “Julie is a sweet child, but she’s going to make them both miserable.”

  “Just as long as she does it at home. Her new home that is . . . Where is Sarah?”

  “She’s gone to her room.” Nick’s voice was ti
ght as he struggled to keep his thoughts from imagining Sarah snuggled beneath the covers.

  Never one to mince words, Chris looked Nick straight in the eye. “And are you gong to tell me how you two really met or are you going to stick to that nonsensical story of her being the granddaughter of a friend of Agatha’s?”

  For a long moment Nick was silent; then he turned and nodded toward the woods. “Does that creek still run along the northern border?”

  Chris’s grin turned devilish. “Deep enough to dive and cold enough to freeze your privates off.”

  Nick reached for the top buttons of his waistcoat and began to pull them open. “Let’s go,” he challenged, hoping an icy bath would cool the fire that burned in his loins and threatened him with tossing caution to the wind. “And I’ll wager a keg of my finest brandy that you turn blue a full lap before me.”

  Chris’s laughter rang out as he tossed his own coat over the railing. “Brandy be hanged. Let’s make it interesting. The winner gets to partner Sarah at dinner tomorrow.”

  Nick nodded. “It’s a bet.”