A Stolen Season

by Gill, Tamara

  Sarah’s stomach flipped at hearing such words spoken aloud.

  “Why, whenever I mention your name he storms from the room, and it’s been nearly two years since my betrothal party.” Anita grinned, the devil entering her eye. “Oh yes, my friend, my darling cousin most certainly still loves you, and I will ensure that you, Miss Baxter, marry that man if it’s the last thing I do on this planet.”

  Sarah laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly with her idea. “Well then, Anita, we’d better come up with a plan, what do you say?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied, her smile triumphant.

  • • •

  The wedding was magnificent — St. James filled to overflowing with every caliber of society. Anita looked beautiful on her day of days, an ethereal quality radiating from her face. Lord Kentum beamed like a man truly besotted, as he watched Anita glide toward him. Sarah’s eyes misted as they said their vows. She smiled across at Eric’s grandmother, who looked perplexed but happy at her appearance at the wedding. It was so moving to watch a couple who meant every word of their marriage vows.

  The wedding ceremony was shorter than Sarah had expected, and she wondered why they had not kissed when declared man and wife. But then the poor couple had waited so long to marry, it was any wonder the wedding seemed hasty.

  Sarah threw white rose petals at the happy bride and groom as they walked from the church. Standing back, she looked around at the multitude of guests, vastly disappointed that Eric had not arrived.

  Many hours later, during the wedding ball, Sarah had all but given up hope of seeing Eric again when her skin prickled with awareness. She looked across the floor and there he stood.

  She sucked in a startled breath at the vision he made. Still impeccably dressed despite of the absence of a cravat, he was slightly thinner from what she remembered, and his hair looked messier, almost bedraggled, in fact. He was no doubt well inebriated.

  Sarah swallowed the stab of jealousy, wondering what he had been up to before coming here to express his congratulations. She took in all his magnificence, unable to tear her eyes from him. Even in his state of disarray, he looked more devastatingly handsome than she remembered. Her stomach flipped, and for the first time in months, Sarah felt alive.

  Then a very real worry settled in the pit of her belly. His eyes had a desolate blankness to them. Alive, yet not living.

  Sarah knew that look well; hers were a matching pair two weeks ago. She frowned, seeing him standing there, against the wall of the ballroom, not focusing on anything at all.

  She watched to see if anyone would engage with him in conversation. People nodded as they passed, but no one stopped to chat. It seemed everyone, including his family, kept their distance from him these days.

  It broke her heart. She watched as, rather than sipping his drink of whisky like any other gentleman, he threw down his glass in one gulp. He immediately requested another from a passing footman.

  Sarah didn’t move from her spot. She was being a coward, hiding behind the vase of white lilies Her Grace the Duchess of Winters had ordered for her only daughter’s wedding. The ballroom was in fact full to overflowing with lilies. The room sparkled and smelled wonderful. Still, she could not stand here like a plant specimen all night.

  Sarah took a calming breath, and stepped away from her hidey-hole to approach Lord and Lady Kentum, ostensibly to congratulate them once more. Anita held out her hand as she came toward them before leaning down to whisper in her ear.

  “He is here, Sarah, have you seen him?” Anita scanned the room in search of her cousin.

  Sarah stood next to her, laughing at her matchmaking antics, and on her wedding day no less.

  “Yes, and it’s a little troubling to see him like that, Anita. I’m starting to doubt he will speak to me; he’s doesn’t seem the most sociable at the moment.”

  Anita squeezed her hand in assurance. “He will, dearest. I know he will.”

  Other guests wanting to wish the couple happy bombarded the newly married pair. Sarah spent the whole time shaking in trepidation, wondering when Eric would look her way. She smiled as Lady Rose walked toward her, and kissed her cheek.

  “Sarah, my dear, I thought I would never see you again. Oh my sweet girl, come give me a hug. I wanted to hug you in the church, but thought I’d better not.” Sarah leaned down and hugged the small but strong woman she had grown to love.

  “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, seeing you back in London, and at Anita’s wedding celebration, no less.”

  “I’m happy to be here as well, my lady. I hope you’ve been well.” The dowager countess looked around the room, and Sarah watched her. It wasn’t hard to know who she was looking for.

  “I have kept myself reasonably busy since you went away. It has been a trying year and half, my dear, one I will be glad to forget. But you’re here now, and Anita is now married — perhaps our family’s luck is turning.”

  Sarah smiled down at her ladyship, hoping the same. “I’m sure it will, my lady.” She paused in thought. “I’m sorry to hear about the Dowager Countess and Lady Patricia. I was saddened to hear of the accident.”

  Her ladyship sighed. “It’s a sad tale, my dear, one I’m not going to go into today of all days,” she replied while patting her hand. “Now, make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. This wedding has been a long time coming.”

  Sarah could not agree more. “I can assure you, my lady, I will. Perhaps I could call on you tomorrow?”

  “I would like that, dear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I better go make my address to the new Marchioness of Kentum.”

  Sarah laughed as Lady Rose walked away, watched as she made a beeline through the guests to Anita’s side. Sarah turned back to her friends who were conversing around her and soon lost herself within the flow of conversation, as she waited patiently for fate to show its hand.

  • • •

  What in hell was he doing here? Eric had no idea. He gazed scathingly at the throng of guests. His head pounded, and he needed sleep, not to mention a bath. Still, debauchery and idleness were a pleasant way to pass the time when there was nothing to live for.

  He sighed, looking over to his cousin who glowed with happiness at being married to Lord Kentum. To see her so happy was why he came. He loved Anita like a sister and wanted to share her day. Well, what was left of it.

  But the notion of being surrounded by happy couples, smiling, laughing, enjoying themselves, was enough to make him bristle with anger and hate.

  His eyes narrowed as his temper flared. What he really wanted to do was throw something. Punch the lucky bastards who dared to be married and happy. Or better, seduce their women, ruining their marriages in the process, just so they could all be as miserable as he was.

  He tried to sip his drink in a more gentlemanly fashion. He had to be losing it. Of late, he had been finding it harder and harder to keep himself together.

  Eric took another sip of his drink. He wanted to die, no longer wanted to live with the agonizing pain of her absence. An absence that wore on his soul and left it empty.

  He looked down at the amber liquid in his glass. He couldn’t do it. And all because he lived with the hope he’d see her again. Unlikely as that now seemed after so long. He would live out this hollow life, and alone, since Sarah was not ever coming back.

  He drank the rest of his brandy, swaying as it hit his nearly empty stomach. A year and a half had passed since she left. There was no longer any hope of seeing her again. His soul severed in two, and he shut his eyes as he tried to push away the pain of such musings. He wanted her back.

  He felt his chest, reassuring himself it was still there. Felt the square like paper beneath the fold of his suit and relaxed.

  The picture of Sarah was never away from his person. So lifelike, that it virtually enabled him to visualize
touching her, to hear her again. His only link to her was starting to look tattered and frayed from so much handling, and he was silently terrified of losing it.

  His mind wandered back to that day. The mail placed upon his desk after lunch bore nothing of interest until his eyes alighted upon a letter in small, neat, flowing script. He cursed his weakness as his heart jumped when he recognised the sender. He opened it, not really knowing what to expect from her words. Read it repeatedly, devoured and memorized every word she wrote. It was days before he really looked at the picture, he was so lost in his grief.

  The vehicles in the picture’s background were unknown to him. They were smooth and glossy, large and small, all in a magnitude of colors. The bridge he knew nothing of stood strong and proud across the Thames, beside the Tower of London. Her clothes and the people around her were also different. It dawned on him immediately that what she said was true, she was not of his time.

  So, she wouldn’t be in London next season. Christ, she wouldn’t be of this realm. And in that moment his hopes of seeing her again during his lifetime were lost. All that had been holding him together, all that he hoped for was gone. He had nothing.

  He nodded to an acquaintance, his mind still on Sarah. He had been such a bastard, wanted nothing but to hurt her. Yes, she had been involved with William’s death, but he could not blame her entirely. William always played the hero, and as much as he loved his brother, it wasn’t Sarah’s fault they fell.

  Eric grabbed another glass of brandy from a passing footman. He shot the drink down, eyes watering from the burning sensation it caused. He had been walking dead for months, day after day of endless emptiness.

  It was enough to push any man to his limits, and he was certainly at the edge. He knew he would have to curtail his downward spiral before he lost it all. But how the hell was he to do that, without her?

  Keeping to the edge of the room, he watched as another night passed him by. He should be sociable with his family and acquaintances here, but the ability to be civil was now an absent characteristic in his body’s composition.

  He rubbed his jaw and sighed. He would have to give his felicitations to the happy couple but that would be the limit of his speech. He had grown fond of the fact that no one spoke to him anymore. He did not want their small-minded, boring chitchat in his ears in any case. All he longed for was to hear one voice above all speak to him, just once more.

  His gaze scanned the room as he noticed a group of overly exuberant young bucks near the terrace doors. They were whispering, elbowing each other in mock joviality. Something had caught their attention on the dance floor. Eric moved his gaze to the partnered couples dancing the quadrille, expecting to see some poor girl making a fool of herself.

  His empty brandy glass fell unheeded, shattering against the parquetry floor. Heart in his mouth, he forgot to breathe, seeing the vision before him. The world’s axis tilted and he swore … loudly.

  It was not possible!

  Eric swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried unsuccessfully to steady his shaking hands. Either he had drank more than he thought, or he was now so sick with grief that he was imagining Sarah. He rubbed a hand over his face, thinking to clear his vision. It did not.

  The same beautiful apparition in ivory silk was still dancing swirling about the floor … enjoying herself.

  His jaw clenched seeing who her dance partner was. He was going to plant his fist in that man’s face before the night was out. Lord Dean should know he wasn’t good enough to breathe anywhere near her. And how dare that bastard lay his hands on her?

  Fists clenched, ready to commit murder, he was only halted off his course by his grandmother’s comforting hand wrapping about his arm.

  Unable to acknowledge her, he kept his eyes fixed on Sarah, not willing to look away in fear she would disappear into thin air like a tormenting ghost.

  “Eric, you will never guess who I have had the pleasure of talking to this eve!”

  Eric’s mouth lifted into a slight grin at his grandmother’s declaration. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see her answering smirk. “Let me guess, dear Grandmamma. It wouldn’t be by any chance Miss Baxter whom you’ve had the delight of catching up with, would it?”

  His grandmother beamed and he felt her arm tighten on his as she moved closer to his side. “Does she not look beautiful? Why don’t you run along and ask her to marry you, and make sure, Eric dear, that she says yes this time. A little lady who was married today told me Sarah is back in London for good.”

  Eric stilled at his grandmother’s forward but wonderful words. Sarah was back to stay? How was such a thing possible? He ran a hand through his hair, seeking her out once more, relaxing when he found her.

  He watched as she stepped off the floor, and heat coursed through his blood once more. If she thought to leave him again she had another thing coming. He would tie her up if needs be. He kissed his grandmother’s cheek and stepped into the fray, directly in pursuit of his love.

  • • •

  Sarah knew the exact moment Eric spied her. A shiver of awareness passed over her and her skin heated. What was he waiting for? She managed to exit the dance floor without giving in to the urge to glance his way.

  Lord Dean was expressing his joy at seeing her again and she allowed the polite conversation to wash over her, aware of only one man within the room. A man now purposefully heading their way. Her stomach roiled with nerves.

  Her mind told her not to look, let him come to her, but it was impossible. She missed him, and his gaze pulled at her like a magnet. Sarah glanced to the side and her gaze locked with his. Held. Silent emotions clashed between them; love, desire, anger, sorrow all slammed into her with his look.

  She turned and watched as Eric stormed across the floor. What would he do? Not entirely sure his reaction to her would be good, she froze. Around her conversations ceased, and it seemed everyone present was watching and waiting to see just what Eric would do.

  Sarah took her fill as he came toward her. She inwardly smiled in appreciation over such a virile, wonderful man. One she aimed to call her very own. Her hands ached to touch him. She wanted to hear him speak, to allow that deep baritone to quiver her insides to jelly.

  Most of all she wanted to say she was sorry, to tell him again and again how much she loved him, would love him forever. If he would allow it.

  She took in his features as he stood before her, silent and not a little bedazzled. Sarah let a smile curve her lips, realizing his thoughts toward her were anything but ominous. She watched as his gaze devoured her, his mouth opened to speak but no words come forth.

  Sarah curtsied instead. “Good evening, Lord Ear — ” She never finished as strong, large hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her from her curtsy.

  “Don’t ever curtsy to me again.” Sarah looked into his dark blue eyes and saw the unconditional love blazing from them and only for her. She stood still, shivering as his hands caressed her cheeks, soft and worshipful, before sliding through her hair, scattering her pins to the floor. She placed her own hand atop his, realizing they were shaking.

  Eric shook his head in awe. “I’ve missed you.” He took her mouth in a searing kiss, declaring his claim to all who were present. Sarah ignored the startled gasps from guests, including the claps that came from the few Sarah assumed to be Anita and Lord Kentum.

  Sarah inwardly laughed as Eric refused to release her. Not that she minded, as with every caress her soul came back to life. She would let him kiss her all night if he wanted. She clasped his nape, standing on her toes to enable Eric to deepen the embrace. He was kissing her like a man starved of his life force, slightly shocked when she knew they were both crying within the embrace.

  Eric broke the kiss as a discreet cough brought them out of their sensual haze. He looked down at her, his love clear to see in his eyes. Eric’s t
ightly leashed resolve crumbled, and Sarah touched the tears that fell unheeded. He hugged her to him, pulled her as close as possible and laughed, the sound music to Sarah’s ears.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said, rocking her within his arms. “Is it really you? Oh my darling Sarah, I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” He looked down at her and frowned as he wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Eric. I love you. I’m sorry about our fight, about — ” Eric kissed her, stemming her words of apology.

  “Don’t mention that bloody awful day. I’m sorry I didn’t believe where you were from. I do now — you know that, don’t you?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “I was a vile cad calling you those filthy names. I never meant a word of it. Please say you forgive me, my love.”

  Sarah threw her arms around him and snuggled into his chest and felt him pull her close. “You know I do. I could never stay angry at you for long, as you well know.”

  Eric laughed, the sound carefree and happy. He pulled back and caught her gaze, and Sarah let herself become lost in the blue depths of his eyes. “Marry me, Sarah?”

  Sarah smiled, allowing him to see how happy the question made her. She ran her fingers over his cheeks, wiping the residual wetness away, before clasping his dark locks in her hands.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, my lord.”

  “I don’t deserve you, my love,” he said, kissing her once more.

  “Oh, yes you do.” Sarah squeaked as Eric picked her up, both laughing like kids, as he rained kisses on her face. Eventually Eric set her down and turned to the enthralled crowd.

  “Let it be known this night that Miss Sarah Baxter has done me the greatest honor of accepting my hand in marriage.”

  The guests, although all shocked, could not deny the love between the couple. With this much juicy gossip for tomorrow’s social rounds, all heartily applauded the happy announcement. Eric sobered as his attention returned to her.