He walked up from behind and hugged her. “Are you sure you want to go to the ball tonight?” he purred into her ear.
“It would be rude not to,” she answered half-heartedly.
“That dress shouldn’t be allowed.” He sighed twirling her around in front of him “I feel like I’m slowly being tortured. I can only see parts of you when I went to see all of you.”
Blushing she swatted him with her hand. “You really are a rogue aren’t you?” she teased.
He merely lifted his hands in defense as if to say, “I warned you.”
She gave him a pointed look before he finally rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’ll go but the minute I see another man touch part of you that isn’t to be touched, we’re leaving.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really Nicholas, I can’t see that happening.”
“Then you obviously don’t see yourself clearly do you?” His tone was serious, sucking away the teasing that was once alive within the room. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You are beautiful. Just try not to smile at too many young gentleman. As you pointed out this morning, I am old and don’t like punching gentlemen in the face.”
She giggled and took his arm. “I promise.”
She would never say it to Nicholas or even admit it out loud, but she felt positively plain standing next to her husband. He was so devilishly handsome that it seemed unreal. His piercing blue eyes did nothing to set her nerves to ease. She smiled up at him as he led her to the waiting carriage.
Marriage to him would be perfect.
Chapter Twenty
Nicholas wanted to yell. He also didn’t want to scare his new wife, but if he would have had any idea that being with her would have made him feel like this, well he would have confessed undying affection for her days earlier. It was even harder being seated across one another in the carriage. His gaze and his thoughts were always on her. He smiled as he looked out the window.
Was it possible for someone to become more attractive the longer that person knew them? Her smile lit up the room and caused a burning within his heart that demanded he be released from his seat and into her arms. She was captivating and somehow she had chosen him, above all else. The only thing left would have been to confess the three little words that he knew she wanted to hear.
It was probably the reason she never said anything to him, although looking in her eyes he knew it was true, and frankly it was the only thing that had power enough to break his happy mood. He couldn’t love her, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it, he had nothing to give, and giving everything he had left meant he could be hurt or worse vulnerable. Women were not to be trusted; even though he knew Sara would die before she would hurt him, he also knew the men of the ton. One of these days, probably within the next year, she would tire of him and be upset over the fact that she gave so much of herself to such a rake. He would grant her annulment and lick his wounds in the English countryside.
Except Sara wasn’t having any of his plans, she was head over heels crazy in love with him. He wouldn’t consider himself a betting man, but he would bet on that. He would risk his entire fortune on it. It made him sick that this was as good as it was going to get for her. Sure he could show her physical love and affection, but to say it out loud was quite another thing. Somehow it finalized his feelings. It made him sick with fear.
“Are you well?” Sara asked, leaning over and patting his hand. He didn’t mind considering it gave him a shameless view of her bosom. He leaned back so she would lean further forward. She took the bait and leaned even further forward, then her eyes darted down, and she swatted him. “Nicholas Renwick! What am I going to do with you? How improper.”
“You’re my wife!”
She smirked. “Yes, that’s true, but if you do that in public I shall have to punish you.”
He held back laughter, trying hard to take her seriously rather than be thrilled with the idea of her giving him punishment. Finally a chuckle escaped his lips. He put his hand over his mouth to cover it, and she turned bright red.
“Not what I meant,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant.” He pulled her into his lap and kissed her with desire, need, and a fierceness he couldn’t hold back. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip playfully as he swept his tongue into her mouth and slipped his hands inside her cloak. He couldn’t get enough of her. The heat radiating from her body was enough to render him completely undone right there in the carriage. He sighed against her chest. “Let’s turn around, go home, have some wine…”
She looked down at his face. “Nicholas Renwick, I do believe you’re trying to seduce your wife again.”
“Is it working?” He cocked an eyebrow.
She looked away, feigning deep thought, like she had to think about it, and drove him completely mad. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Sure.”
“That’s your answer?”
Sara nodded her head.
“You’re a handful.” He shook his head.
“You didn’t mind last night.”
He looked at her and had no words. They had been stolen from his mouth. When had Sara turned into such a, a well he couldn’t really think of the correct word. She was quite literally every man’s perfect woman. Sweet and witty when she needed to be and behind closed doors a wanton temptress. Again, a prayer was offered up to heaven. Whatever he did to deserve her, he wanted to do it again.
“I didn’t mind many things last night,” he answered huskily into her neck.
The carriage came to a complete stop, making Nicholas want to curse. A curse word was on the tip of his tongue just as Sara let one out.
He looked at her and shook his head. “I’m a bad influence on you.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
He didn’t mind, and she didn’t seem to either. He helped her out of the carriage and escorted her up the stairs. It was Lady Delia’s annual ball, and people would be expecting them.
He turned toward Sara. “Are you ready for this?”
“If when you say ready you mean am I ready to go into a ball and enjoy a few waltzes with my husband then yes. If you mean am I ready for all the stares and questions and gawking about our scandalous tie to one another, then…no.”
He smiled, although guilt tugged at his heart. “At least you’re honest.”
She seemed to pale at his comment it gave him the impression she wasn’t being honest, yet everything about what she just said was exactly what he had been thinking. “What’s wrong, Sara?”
She nodded her head. “Fine. I just…thought of something, that’s all. Let’s go.”
He kissed her hand and led her in. Oddly enough, there was no group hush nor were that many people staring at them. He felt immediately at ease. It was possible, or more probable, that some new scandal arose, although he should have caught wind of it somehow. Nobody seemed to be staring at him at all; in fact, most of the people they passed were staring at Sara.
He didn’t blame them; she looked absolutely breathtaking in a deep crimson gown that flowed all the way to the floor. She looked like royalty, and sometimes he felt like nothing more than a footman on her arm.
He smiled at her but noticed her own return smile didn’t reach her eyes. Was she ill?
“Sara?” he whispered into her ear.
“Hmm?” she answered, not looking at him.
“Are you well?”
“Why do you keep asking me that?” she snapped.
“I uh,” he was again at a loss. Had he said something wrong or done something to offend her? Quite possibly she was upset over the attention.
“It’s nothing.” She waved him away making him feel like an irritating fly. “Let’s dance.”
So they did. They danced twice before Sara was swept away by Hastings, another old duke whom Nicholas found hardly dangerous for her to be dancing with.
He took a sip of punch and looked around. All eyes were stil
l positively fixed upon Sara. It was enough to make even Nicholas feel uncomfortable. Upon closer inspection people weren’t exactly looking at her in awe, nor were they trying to cut her, in fact they just seemed morbidly curious about something.
He shook his head and took another sip of champagne.
“Renwick!” A booming voice said behind him before slapping his back three times.
He turned to see Belverd. “Ah, how are you?” Nicholas asked politely.
Belverd chuckled. “I should be asking you the same thing.”
Nicholas felt his chest swell with pride. “Well, marriage has been good, I will admit that much.”
Belverd looked at him curiously then back at Sara. “Tell me you know, Nicholas.”
So maybe there was some sort of scandal that happened. “Know? I don’t know of anything. Why, what’s going on?”
Belverd looked extremely uncomfortable. Nicholas stood in front of him to keep him from escaping. “Belverd?” he prompted.
“It’s really not my place to say,” he responded hoarsely.
“How am I to know what is and is not your place? Just get on with it before I go mad.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wanted to punch him.
Belverd leaned in and whispered as softly as a man could, “It was in the gossip pages this morning. I thought you had seen it. Actually, I thought you already knew.”
“You’re driving me insane Belverd. Just tell me; what am I supposed to know?”
Belverd swallowed, then his eyes darted back to Sara. “Your wife…she’s Lady Fenton’s illegitimate daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nicholas felt the room begin to spin. He looked at Belverd then back at Sara who was now coming toward them, then back at Belverd. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even see straight. She had lied to him? So he would be manipulated into marrying her? To honor her family name? Did she even need money for her family? She played him for a fool. Of course she’d grown up in the country; most bastard children did until it was time for them to—He couldn’t finish the thought. He needed air or brandy, and considering the brandy was on the far side of the room, he chose air. He pushed past Belverd, and out of the nearest door, knowing very well that many eyes were on him, and wondering what his next move would be, including Sara.
It was minutes before he felt her presence behind him. “Go away, Sara.”
“Nicholas I—“
He turned. “Lord Renwick to you.” His face twisted into a sneer. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Were you just going to keep it from me for forever?”
Her eyes scrunched up as if confused.
“Goodness, Sara! Is that even your real name?” He shook his head pitifully. “I felt sorry for you! I did! I thought ‘how sad for Sara to live in the country all her life and have her virtue compromised by London’s most notorious rake,’ and then as if by some miracle I actually felt—“
“You felt what?” She stepped forward.
“Get away from me!” he yelled. “I trusted you! I felt affection for you, I—Sara, I made love to you and now I find out you’ve been keeping this secret from me this whole time? When I trusted you with all of mine?”
“I love you!” she yelled back at him. “I didn’t even know until the day before we were to be married! What was I to do? Tell you and have you panic? Why does it matter who my mother is? I had no idea until Lady Fenton told me!” She was screaming right back at him, which actually took him quite off guard.
“You still should have told me! We are husband and wife, for better or worse! Haven’t you been the one that’s been talking about giving your heart and loving someone? And here you can’t even trust me with your past?”
Her eyes turned suddenly cold as she looked up to him. “Like you trusted me with yours?”
He felt all control snap. “That’s different, and you know it!”
“No, it's not!” She moved closer to him. “The only difference is you knew all along that if you compromised me, I wouldn’t say no, but the whole time I knew—I knew—that you would use any excuse to get out of this marriage. Hadn’t you told me as much?”
She had him there, but would she have ever offered to marry him if he hadn’t suggested an annulment? And wasn’t he doing the right thing in offering her a way out of being trapped?
“I was trying to help you. I didn’t want this!” He was powerless to stop the words from his mouth.
“You…” She turned away to hide her tears. “Didn’t want me? Or you didn’t want to be married?”
He didn’t know what to say. There were always moments in his life when he knew what words should come out of his mouth, but because of the hurt and pain, he would choose the ones that would do the most damage. In his head they made him think he would feel like the person who didn’t get screwed by the whole situation. This was one of those times for Nicholas as he choked out the final words in the coffin of their relationship. “Both.”
Sara looked at him with the coldest eyes he had ever seen. Angry tears streamed down her face, she let out another choked sob and ran back inside. Nicholas was hurt and frustrated, yet all he could think of was the way Sara looked when he said he didn’t want her. He would have welcomed death before seeing that expression on her face again
.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sara didn’t care if people stared, nor did she care that her hair had fallen out of place. Upon entering the ballroom, she immediately found Lady Fenton and was escorted into her carriage. She sobbed the entire way to Nicholas’s house in Lady Fenton’s arms. When they reached their stop, Lady Fenton lifted her off her lap and looked at her.
“He’s not upset at you, my dear. He’s upset at himself.”
Sara cried even harder. “If you heard what he said, if you were there, you would know!” She tried to catch her breath. “He said he never wanted me, that he never wanted to marry me!”
Lady Fenton wiped away some of Sara’s tears. “My dear, we both know that’s not true. He’s just afraid of how you make him feel. He loves you; I know he does.”
Sara shook her head fiercely. “He told me he would never give me his heart, and now I’ve ruined it. I should have told him! I was so afraid it would kill him, he doesn’t even know who my father is, and that’s the worst part. He only knows part of the story if he knew the other part he would…he would never forgive himself!”
Sara couldn’t live with that. She had lived with rejection, fear, pity all her life—she would die before she would let Nicholas feel guilty over something he did so long ago. The man needed to forgive himself before he could ever be whole again. How was it possible to still love him after all the hurtful things he said? She sniffled some more before Lady Fenton took her inside. She explained to the servants that Lady Renwick was sick. They brought her to her adjoining chamber and put her to bed.
Sara cried herself to sleep and dreamt of little boys with blue eyes; little boys that she would never have the opportunity to have. It made her cry all the harder. Her dreams—everything shattered in an instant because Nicholas couldn’t trust her.
It was still dark when she woke up. She felt something next to her head and turned to see what it was. She nearly screamed in agony as she saw the thick pieces of paper. It was the annulment papers Nicholas had talked so much about, and at the bottom it was signed, “Lord Nicholas Devons, Seventh Earl of Renwick.”
She was starring in her own personal nightmare, and Nicholas had thrown the final punch. It made her ill, so ill that she threw up in her chamber pot several times before she was able to focus on getting food into her stomach.
She dressed with as much care as possible in hopes that Nicholas would be there for her to speak with. When she asked the footman where he had gone, he gave her a guilty look and said that Nicholas had some business to attend to in Scotland. He wouldn’t be back for another month.
So Sara went upstairs and cried some more until there were no tears left. Nothing left except a hollow
ache in her chest. An ache that she feared would never go away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nicholas tried to set his emotions at ease as he crossed the border into Scotland. He had done the right thing. She had trapped him, humiliated him, made him vulnerable. He was right about her all along, yet one part of him couldn’t help but feel guilty over the fact that the first hill in their relationship sent him running to a foreign country. In all honesty, he would have liked to talk to Sara about everything but his pride, the ever-looming presence in his life, kept him from doing so.
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