David set his lantern upon one of the shelves above him, where it cast enough light but was not near enough to any books that it may catch them aflame, and he began to wander further down the bookshelves.
David ran his finger over a few titles, struggling now in the dimmer light to make out what they read. He pulled one out for a better look, but not finding anything of interest, he flicked his gaze back up to the shelf in order to return it to its place. But what he saw nearly made his heart stop. For it was another pair of eyes peering back at him.
*
Sarah wasn’t sure what roused her from sleep. In fact, as she began to return to consciousness, she became aware of the ache in her back, the crick in her neck, and the chill that had entered her bones.
Where was she?
She looked around her at the darkness, the furniture only slightly illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. Ah, yes. She was in the library at the Marquess of Berkley’s estate. Unable to sleep, she had left her room and began to wander, only to find herself in here. Lord Berkley had an interesting array of books, and Sarah had been delighted to discover a volume on the foliage to be found within the area.
The information, however, was primarily relegated to characteristics that would identify such flora and fauna and their scent—which Sarah did not find particularly helpful, and soon enough she was asleep in her chair, her candle, she now realized, melted to nothing beside her. When she had initially entered the room, a warm fire had remained in the hearth, but it had now fallen to near embers.
Her senses came suddenly alert as she realized she was not alone. She heard the fall of a footstep somewhere within the room, and a flicker of light caught her eye from amongst the shelves. She knew she was being foolish, that she should just call out, but instead, she began to tiptoe across the room to determine just who had joined her.
Seeing the candle’s flame, she peeked through the shelf, planning on walking around to greet the newcomer once she determined his or her identity, but then suddenly another pair of eyes met hers, and she stumbled backward in surprise, her head banging into the shelf behind her.
She was still rubbing it, trying to ignore the sting of tears that threatened, when warm, strong hands encircled her arms.
“Are you all right?”
She looked up into David’s eyes, and a feeling of safety and security rushed through her.
She was all right because she was here—with him. Which was exactly why she had been determined to stay away for so long.
“I’m fine,” she said instead, stepping away from him, putting some space between them. “I should have told you I was in here but I was unsure who had joined me. My apologies.”
“This is a welcome surprise,” he said with a soft smile. “I have been trying to get you alone for some time now, but you keep avoiding me.”
“Not on purpose,” she lied, looking down at her hands, and he put a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face up to look at his.
“Why will you not speak to me?” he asked softly.
“Because…” she looked around, as though she would find something that would prevent her from having to answer this question. “Because you scare me.”
“I scare you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I cannot say any woman has ever said such a thing to me before.”
“Well, I am not like other women,” she said resolutely, attempting to ignore the jealousy that filled her at the mention of such women.
“You certainly are not,” he acknowledged, though the way he said it, she wasn’t sure whether she should feel complimented or insulted. He reached out and took her hand in his, and only then did she notice that he was in his nightwear, a gold wrapper pulled tightly around him.
“You match the house,” she murmured before she even realized what she was saying, and he laughed.
“I suppose I do. It is rather gaudy, isn’t it?”
“Your wrapper or the house?”
“Both.”
It was her turn to laugh. If nothing else, David certainly knew how to bring humor to every situation. “The house is beautiful, but it is slightly ostentatious, yes. I must admit that I am still becoming used to such surroundings, having grown up in a one-bedroom cabin.”
David reached a hand out, taking her bare fingers within his, and she wanted to pull her hand back at the tremors that ran through her from his touch. Before she could do so, however, he began to caress them, and it was so lovely she allowed herself to relax into it for a moment.
“None of this can compare to your own beauty.”
“Stop,” she whispered, not wanting to hear his contrived words, but he tugged slightly on her hand to capture her attention once more.
“I am serious,” he said, punctuating each word in emphasis. “You possess a natural beauty that I have never seen in any other before.”
“Is that a line?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “One you use on all of your women?”
“I have no other women,” he said, and when she looked up at him, it seemed as though his words were genuine. Sarah bit her lip. She should run from this room, leaving him and his words of love behind her. But instead, when he stroked her cheek with his fingertips until he cupped her face, she looked up at him, met his eyes, and gave into the kiss he offered. The moment his lips touched hers, her body began to quicken, responding to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as his came around her back.
Was it ridiculous to feel as though she was coming home? His hard, strong body against hers almost felt like a symbol of reassurance, a pillar of strength—a reminder that she no longer had to feel completely alone, but that he was here for her and she could face whatever approached with someone by her side to support her.
One of his arms moved down to come underneath her knees, lifting her up in his arms, and he carried her over through the shelves to the large, leather library chair where she had been sitting but moments before. He sat down upon it, lifting her so that she was upon his lap. When one of his hands dug into her hair, which flowed around her shoulders, she felt tingles from his touch, which then ran down her spine.
This would be the last time with him, she promised herself, the vow only increasing the intensity of her kiss. The last time she would give herself to him, take all that he had to offer her.
So she was shocked when he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers, their breath intermingling.
“You should be sleeping,” he said as he kissed her forehead and then drew her head against his chest. She leaned into him, taking his warmth and comfort.
“I should be—and so should you,” she said, and he chuckled.
“Very true,” he said. “I find it difficult to sleep in a new place.”
“You never seemed to have any issue in my rooms,” she said, smiling into his chest. “Your snores certainly proved otherwise.”
He laughed then, a true, hearty laugh, one she enjoyed listening to.
“I do not snore.”
“You do.”
“You wound me, Sarah,” he said, with a hand against his chest in mock pain, but then shook his head as he turned serious. “Would you like an escort back to your room?”
“I shouldn’t,” she said, pushing away from his chest and sitting up now. “Someone could see us.”
“I shall be most discreet,” he responded his hand now molding over his heart in a promise, and she sighed and smiled.
“Very well,” she said. “Though then, of course, you will know where to find me in the future.”
“You have determined my ulterior motives all too well,” he said with a feigned sigh, and she laughed but then stood, holding her hand out to him.
“Come,” she said, and he followed along beside her, one arm on the small of her back. It felt altogether too right, but as much as she knew she should put some space between them, she was enjoying the feeling of it more than she wanted to admit.
“Where to, my lady?” he asked with a smile, and she sho
ok her head and scolded him.
“I am not a lady.”
“You are, in all the ways that matter,” he said breezily.
She knew he said the words with levity, yet they warmed Sarah right through, with even the possibility that he could see her in such a way. She caught him looking over at her, but she ducked her head to hide what she was sure were pink cheeks.
“So tell me,” she said as they climbed the stairs, “Did you find what you were looking for upon Lord Berkley’s shelves?”
“Not quite,” he said with a sigh, “For I was seeking a book of sonnets with which to woo you.”
“You were not!” she said with a laugh, and then looked at him with a more serious gaze. “Besides, I’m sure you already have all the lines.”
“Not for a woman like you, I don’t,” he said, shaking his head with a sigh, and then gestured down the corridor when the reached the landing. “Which direction shall we take?”
“This way,” she pointed. “And hush, now. We do not need the entire house to assume we are having some late night liaison.”
“Oh, are we not?”
“No,” she said in whispered tones, swatting at him. “I should, in fact, be returning to my rooms alone.”
“I am escorting you like any gentleman would,” he said, and she rolled her eyes at him, and then held a finger up to her lips when she heard voices from within one of the rooms they were passing.
He said nothing until she stopped in front of her doorway.
“Here I am,” she said, suddenly feeling quite awkward, unsure of whether or not to invite him in. She knew she shouldn’t and yet…
“Goodnight,” he said, making the decision for her, and leaned in to place his lips upon hers. The kiss couldn’t be called chaste, for he lingered far too long and tasted her ever so slightly, but it was a promise of more to come.
When David pulled back, his eyes were dark and hungry, but all he did was smile, nod, and take his leave.
Chapter Eighteen
David awoke the next day with a renewed sense of purpose. While they had hardly spoken of anything of consequence, his interlude with Sarah last night had been one that reassured him, providing him with a sense that everything would be all right between them, would it not? She had joked with him, had laughed with him, and surely there was nothing that they could not overcome together.
He was well aware that she had desired him as much as he did her, but as much as he wanted to make love to her again—whether within the library or upon the return to her rooms—he had settled with a brief kiss goodnight. He was worried about giving her the impression that all he wanted from her was to sleep together once more. Then there was, of course, the potential of being discovered, but that he was willing to risk.
The entirety of what he truly did want in the future remained slightly out of his grasp, but it was becoming clearer to him the more time he spent together with her. He had no wish to rush into anything, however, for the last thing he wanted was to hurt this woman if he decided that a future together was not what he desired.
The gentlemen were to take part in a hunt that afternoon upon the arrival of others within the party, which David welcomed as he had always loved a good chase.
He followed Berkley out to the stables to prepare his mount, Francis and Clarence among them as well.
“You are in good spirits today,” Clarence commented, and David nodded.
“It’s a beautiful day and we are off on a hunt—what else could a man want?”
He noted Berkley and Clarence exchange a look, but he chose to ignore it.
“Say,” Francis said, calling David’s attention to him, for the man didn’t typically say much amongst their company. “The ring you’re wearing—is that the one you were discussing yesterday? The one belonging to Miss Jones?”
“It is,” he affirmed, though he felt somewhat ridiculous at actually wearing the thing. He was worried, however, that he would otherwise lose it, which he was loathe to do after promising its safe return.
Francis surprised him by reaching out and taking his wrist, stepping closer to take a better look at the ring.
“I’ve seen this crest before,” he murmured, causing the other three men to stop mid-step upon the grass halfway between the house and the stables and stare at him.
“You have?” David asked. “Where?”
“That’s the problem—I’m not entirely sure,” Francis said with a frown. “Permit me some time to think on it?”
“Of course,” David said, and then, hoping to prompt the man’s memory, continued. “Where would you have seen noble family crests?”
“Redmond,” Clarence chastised with a disapproving stare and David quickly altered his words.
“I mean no offense, Francis. I am asking simply to try to help determine to whom this might belong.”
“It’s fine,” Francis said with a wave of his hand. “However, I actually see more crests than you might think, upon jockeys’ silks, horses’ tack, or documents regarding the pedigree of horses. This one seems familiar, I just have to think about it. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” David said, though he impatiently wished he could shake the information out of the man. “It’s more than we had to go on before.”
Francis nodded, the contemplation remaining on his face, and David could only hope that his memory would prove useful.
*
So David was pleasantly surprised when, at a stop on the hunt much later that day, Francis pulled him aside.
“I think I’ve remembered,” he said, and David couldn’t recall the last time he had experienced such anticipation for another man’s words.
“Yes?” he asked eagerly.
“I cannot be entirely sure, but you are aware that I rode for a time for the Earl of Torrington?”
David certainly did remember due to the scandal that had surrounded Lord Torrington’s prized mount. But that was another story.
“I’ve seen Torrington’s crest, and this is not it,” he said with a frown, and Francis nodded.
“Correct. I would have known Torrington’s crest immediately, having worn it for so long. But if I recall, his interest in racing was passed down from his mother’s family, not his father’s. While I must be honest in that often crests can look rather similar to me, I believe I saw that one in particular on some of the tack within his stables.”
“Are you sure?” David asked, excitement filling him at finally having found a lead, and Francis lifted one corner of his mouth as he shrugged.
“I cannot be entirely sure,” Francis said, “But I have my suspicions.”
“I can make some discreet inquiries as to Torrington’s past,” Clarence said from behind David, and before David could open his mouth to object, to tell him that he could do so himself, Clarence held up a hand.
“I understand you would like to do so yourself, but you must understand, Redmond, that you are not exactly…”
He paused for a moment, looking up to the sky as if the right word would fall down upon him, and David chuckled ruefully. “Discreet? I only want to get to the heart of the matter.”
“What are you going to do, walk up to the man and ask him if, around twenty or so years ago, he had an affair with a woman who then walked out of his life forever? And that you are asking because he now may have a daughter with whom you are rather enamored?” Clarence shook his head. “Allow me to determine what I can.”
“Very well,” David said, tapping his hand against his leg, realizing he didn’t have many other choices but to accept the help. “Keep me apprised of what you find out.”
*
Sarah was contemplating how lovely it was to take tea out of doors. She had never been one who enjoyed the process of simply sitting and doing nothing but sipping from her cup, though she enjoyed the opportunity to converse with her friends. This was certainly better than being ensconced in a drawing room, though it did seem rather unnatural for servants to have to carry everything out
of doors in order to serve them.
She had just lifted a pastry to her lips when there was a loud commotion from the bottom of the hill beneath them. The back of Lord Berkley’s estate overlooked the valleys below, where the woodland was thick and the men were currently hunting.
They all looked up to see a horse thundering up the hill toward them, others beginning to climb the rise from far behind, moving slightly slower.
Eddie was the first rider, the fastest of them all, of course, being a jockey, his horse a former racer. He dismounted before the horse had even stopped running, a display that would have properly impressed Sarah were she not so worried about just why he had needed to race back to the house so quickly.
“We must send for a physician,” he said, his breath coming in great huffs. “Lord Upwell has been shot.”
“Shot?” Phoebe gasped as they all stared at him in shock.
“An accident,” Eddie said, “But dangerous all the same. We believe the bullet went into his shoulder. Where is the closest physician? In the meantime, Miss Jones, are you able to help him?”
Eddie needn’t have even asked. Sarah was already standing and determining exactly what she needed to treat a gunshot wound. Nearly before Eddie had even finished speaking, she was already beginning to provide orders.
“Phoebe, can you help—or arrange for help? I need clean linens, my bag from my chambers, and a bowl of boiling water. To which bedroom will you take him?”
Phoebe went to work as quickly as Sarah, and before long she had some of her servants beginning to prepare in the man’s bedchamber, as she too helped herself. Sarah honestly had no idea who he was, but when he was settled upon the bed, she saw he was an older gentleman, who had likely traveled here with Lady Alexander’s party. He was groaning in pain as he clasped his hand around the top of his left arm, where Sarah saw a bullet was still embedded. She took a deep breath. Bullet wounds could be difficult cases. Sometimes they came out easily, were never infected, and all was fine. Other times, it could be extremely difficult to find the bullet and could have lingering effects. It was why limbs were often amputated during combat.
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