One finger slid inside of her and she closed her eyes and moaned. “Christian. Oh, Christian…”
“You’re so wet, Sarah. So hot. So perfect.”
His finger moved and she tossed her head back and forth against the pillow. She’d never felt anything like it before. His mouth was back on her nipple and pangs of heat and desire shot through her from her breast to the intimate spot between her legs where his finger touched her, so softly, so gently. So right.
She arched her back to bring her breast into even closer contact with his mouth. Then his mouth moved back up to her lips and he kissed her again and again, finally dragging his mouth across her cheek, back to her ear, then down to her neck, where he sucked her roughly.
All the while his finger was still playing with her, moving in and out in a forbidden rhythm that made her hips arch and twist to meet his thrusts. “Christian, I don’t—”
“Shh. I only want to watch you.” Then his thumb rubbed her in tiny circles in a spot between her legs she barely knew existed. She cried out and he kissed her again, swallowing her cries in his mouth.
The pressure between her legs built and expanded and Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely one last time before waves of pleasure streaked through her entire body and she called out his name.
Christian pressed his forehead to hers, hard. His breathing was heavy. He was panting and he looked to be in pain. She kissed his temple and whispered in his ear, “What can I do? For you? To—”
“Nothing.”
Her hand had reached for his waist, for the buttons on his breeches, but he captured her fingers, brought them up to his mouth, and kissed them.
“You’re so beautiful, Sarah. So lovely when you—”
A knock at the door interrupted them. Alex’s pretty voice floated through. “Sarah, we’re back. Are you all right? We should probably return to the house now.”
Sarah abruptly pulled away from Christian, her breathing still heavy, her heart pounding in her ears.
“Yes, yes. I’ll be right there,” she called back.
“We’ll just wait out here,” Alex replied.
Christian rolled over on the bed, his arms splayed. “Damn it.”
Sarah scrambled up and frantically righted her clothing. “I don’t know what to say.”
He stood, too, and faced her. “Say you’ll leave him. Say you’ll marry me.”
She shook her head. Tears filled her eyes. “I want to. I do. I truly do, but—”
“But what? What else is there? Why would you stay with him when you don’t love him?”
“Are you saying you love me?” She searched his face. If he only said yes. He had to say yes.
He pushed himself up on one elbow and savagely scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sarah, I—I want to marry you. We are obviously attracted to each other. I know you care for me more than you care for him.”
Tentacles of ice clutched her heart. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t love her. She bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood. Then she turned, grabbed her bonnet, and raced out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
That night, after she’d prepared for bed and dismissed her maid, Sarah stood and stared out the window of her guest bedchamber into the inky night sky. She wrapped her arms across her middle. It had been like touching a little piece of heaven kissing Christian today, feeling Christian touch her in the intimate way he had. She would never be able to forget it. Not a moment of it.
But there was only one problem. He hadn’t been able to tell her that he loved her. There might be passion between them, that much was obvious, but with her he was just doing what he always did, attempting to rescue a damsel in distress.
I’ll save you from him. Those had been his words. Not I love you madly and cannot live without you. How would a marriage based on being rescued be any better than one based on a heartless contract? No. Even if the threat of scandal weren’t hanging over her head, she refused to allow Christian to martyr himself for her. He’d already done so much to help her. She could ask no more of him.
She traced a finger along the windowpane. When she was a little girl, she’d dreamed about her wedding day. In her dreams, a wonderful man who loved her was by her side. But her childhood dreams had been shattered long ago. By the time she was barely thirteen, she’d been told in no uncertain terms that her parents had other plans for her. Plans they’d had from the day she was born. They’d dressed her up like a doll and trotted her out into Society and intended to hand her off to the most socially advantageous bridegroom. She’d known it would happen. She’d been prepared for it, or thought she was. That’s how it worked in their world. Why, she had half a score of friends who’d married last year while barely knowing their husbands, let alone being in love with them. She had been told since she was a girl that she must do as she was told. That’s all there was to it. Fine. Meg seemed intent upon remaining unattached while she pined for Hart. But that was different. Meg didn’t have a dowry. She didn’t have a string of suitors lined up. She could afford to at least pretend to follow her heart. Sarah didn’t have that luxury. She must do as she was told. She could not shame her parents.
Blast Lucy Hunt and her friends for making Sarah think she should ever expect anything more. All of them appeared to be madly in love with their spouses. But that wasn’t the usual way of things in the ton. Their marriages were special. Different. Not everyone had such good fortune.
Sarah might not love Lord Branford and she had no illusions that he loved her, but he was well connected, rich, powerful, and not entirely bad looking. He wasn’t cruel or a spendthrift or a lout. He seemed healthy enough and had decent teeth. He could be a much worse choice for a husband, after all. Once they were married, they probably wouldn’t even spend much time in each other’s company. Like most of the married couples in the ton, they would live quiet, happy, separate lives, especially after she did her duty and produced an heir or two. That’s the way it was supposed to happen. It was quite tidy, actually.
The only untidy thing was her feeling for Christian. Why did she have to want him so? She thought about him, dreamed about him, lay awake at night imagining what it would be like to be with him, have a life with him. The worst part was, she already knew a little how it would be. Their time together in Scotland had taught her.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. She turned toward the sound. “Come in.”
The door opened and her mother stepped inside. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you fell asleep.”
“You did.” Sarah left the window and made her way over to the bed, where she sat down on the edge. Her mother joined her, a worried look on her face.
“What is it, Mother?”
Her mother folded her hands in her lap. “I was going to wait to tell you this until after we returned to London, but I think it’s best you know now.”
Panic rose in Sarah’s chest. “Know what?”
“Your father spoke to Lord Branford. They decided the wedding should be sooner than later. The men have agreed that you’ll marry in three weeks’ time, as soon as the banns are read.”
Sarah pressed a hand to her chest. She couldn’t breathe. “As soon as the banns are read?”
“Yes, dear. There’s no use putting it off any longer. I know you have your nerves, which is quite normal for a young bride. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll tell you everything you need to know and—”
“No, Mother, it’s not that. It’s—”
“What, dear?”
“I just…”
Her mother’s face turned serious, harsh. “Sarah, I know you’ve been preoccupied by Lord Berkeley.”
More panic. “What?”
“I saw the way you looked at him at the Hollisters’ ball and the way you spoke to him at the marquess’s dinner party. It’s plain as day that you have feelings for him.”
The tiniest bit of hope unfurled in Sarah’s chest. “Mother, what if I
wanted to … marry for love?”
“There is no such thing,” her mother scoffed.
Hope died a quick death.
“But, I—”
“You’ll marry Lord Branford, Sarah. Afterward, if you’d like to have a discreet affair with Lord Berkeley, by all means, do so. But for the love of God, wait until after you produce the heir. That’s all I ask.”
Sarah recoiled from her mother. It was as if she didn’t even know the woman sitting next to her. Why had she thought for one moment that her mother might actually understand? Be sympathetic? Sarah hung her head. She would never ask Christian to have an affair with her. It was beneath him. Beneath her. It just proved that her mother didn’t know her at all.
Her mother patted her hand. “Lord Branford has been good to wait all these months, especially after your unfortunate little escapade last winter. It’s time you stopped being childish. Do as you’re told, Sarah.”
“Yes, Mother,” she murmured. Do as you’re told, Sarah. The words thundered in her ears until her head ached.
“It’s not all bad. Just think, we can finish shopping for your trousseau as soon as we return to London. That should cheer you up.”
No. Her mother didn’t understand anything.
“Yes, Mother.” Another stiff murmur.
Her mother patted her hand once more. “You’ve already begun fittings for your wedding gown. We’ll simply increase the number of appointments each week.”
“Yes, Mother.” It was all she could say. Her afternoon with Christian played through her mind with excruciating detail. The parson’s noose was tightening around her throat until she couldn’t breathe.
“Everything will be all right, dear.” Her mother stood and moved toward the door. “Now, get some sleep. Lord Branford will be here for the wedding tomorrow and you’ll want to look fresh and rested for him.”
“Yes, Mother.”
The door closed behind her mother and Sarah’s throat began to contract. The walls of the bedchamber were marching toward her. The room became smaller and smaller. Marry Lord Branford in three weeks’ time. Marry Lord Branford in three weeks’ time? Three weeks? It was too soon. She couldn’t breathe. She pushed herself off the bed and raced to the door. She was wearing only her night rail and dressing gown, but it didn’t matter. She had to get out of the tiny room. She wrenched open the door and fled down the corridor. Thankfully, it was dark and empty. She was running somewhere, to someone, even though she wouldn’t admit it to herself. Alex had mentioned to her the location of Christian’s room earlier when they’d been touring the house together. Lord Owen had pointed out his own room and said Lord Berkeley was right next door. At the time she’d thought it seemed like superfluous information, now she was thankful for it.
Sarah hurried down the corridor on bare feet, turned toward the bachelor wing of the house, and flew along that corridor, too. She had to see him. Had to tell him. She didn’t know why. All she knew was that Christian was the only other person she’d ever met who had told her that he experienced the sensation of walls closing in around him also. He was the only person who could understand.
She nearly skidded to a stop in front of his door. Her breathing was so harsh, she feared she’d wake the entire row of bedchamber occupants. She knocked as softly as she dared, then placed her ear against the door to listen for any movement.
Several moments ticked by interminably before the door swung open and Christian stood there, soft linen breeches covering him from the waist down and absolutely nothing on his bare chest. His hair was a bit mussed, as if he’d been abed, but he looked so handsome that she nearly rushed in and kissed him. Instead, she swallowed hard.
He pushed a hand through his rumpled hair. “Sarah, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“I had to get away from my room. I … I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in.” She dragged her nails across her arms.
He stuck out his head and glanced both ways down the corridor to ensure they were not seen, then he quickly pulled her inside his bedchamber. “It’s not safe for you to be out there. If someone saw you, your reputation would be in ruins.”
“I know. But, I had to tell someone. Tell you…”
“Tell me what?”
“I couldn’t breathe, Christian. The walls … I can’t…”
He pulled her by the hand to the bed, where he sat her down and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Lower your head toward your knees. Breathe.”
She did as she was told, bending at the waist to move her head as close to her knees as possible. Without her stays, it was simple. He rubbed her back, his hand a hot brand through her dressing gown. She struggled to breathe, her head bowed, her hands in her hair.
“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he said quietly.
Several moments passed while her breathing calmed and he stroked her back. His hand moved up to her hair. She tried to ignore how good it felt. She didn’t want it to stop. Finally, she sat up again and drew in a shaky breath.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded and tried not to look at his muscled bare chest. He was being so nice to her. He always was nice to her. Even after she’d cruelly rejected him this afternoon. Run from him.
“Can you tell me now what’s wrong?” he asked.
She turned her body slightly toward his and met his gaze. “Father and Mother are moving up the wedding. It’s to be in three weeks’ time, as soon as the banns are read.”
“I see. And that sent you into a panic?”
She nodded miserably, wanting to launch herself into his arms and hug him. Press her head to his chest and breathe in his spicy scent of wood smoke and cologne. “I only knew I had to see you, Christian. I had to…”
His gaze searched her face. “Had to what?”
She had no more words. She launched herself at him, her hands in his hair, her mouth meeting his in a fierce clash. He toppled over backward onto the mattress and she moved atop him, kissing him, matching her body to his. His hands moved into her hair, his tongue in her mouth. Then his hands moved down to her hips, her waist, and he positioned her atop him. His hands moved back up to tangle in her hair, which spilled over his shoulders in dark waves.
“Touch me, Christian. Please. Like you did this afternoon.”
In an instant she was on her back, he was over her, and his hand moved along the edge of her dressing gown. He untied the knot at her waist and peeled the gown from her shoulders. She sat up to help him remove it and quickly tossed it aside. Then his hand was at the hem of her night rail and he pulled it up, off her. She lay there naked under his hot regard as his eyes roamed over her entire body. All she felt was pride. Pride and the desire to see him naked as well. His hand touched her bare ankle, moved up her lower leg, brushed over her calf, then her outer thigh. Then moved in between her legs. She shuddered and spread her hands over his bare chest, marveling as the muscles flexed at her touch.
“Show me how to make you feel the way you made me feel today.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Please,” she breathed against his open mouth. “I want to.” She had a vague idea of what would make him feel good. She moved her hand down to his breeches and rubbed the hard outline of him underneath.
He groaned. “Sarah, I—”
“Let me touch you, Christian.”
But he pulled her hand away and pinned it, along with the other, above her head on the mattress. Then he slowly lowered himself down her naked body. “You’re beautiful, Sarah. Your body is perfect. Just the way I knew it would be.”
“Touch me,” she begged.
His mouth trailed down her neck, to her breasts. He sucked each one in turn before continuing his descent. He kissed her ribs and her flat belly, then moved down lower. Lower.
Sarah clamped her legs together and gasped when she realized what he was about to do. He’d let go of her hands and she was trying to push him away when his hot, wet tongue found the core
of her and licked deeply in long, lush strokes that made her head fall back against the pillow. She twisted against him, wanting to move but not wanting it to stop.
“Oh, my God. Christian!”
“Shh.” He drew a finger up to her mouth. She opened her lips and sucked on it while he continued to lick her in deep strokes that made her thighs tremble and her knees weak.
He found that perfect spot again and licked in tiny circles again and again until Sarah writhed and twisted against the bedsheets. One of his hands was braced against her hip. The other left her mouth and moved down to her nipple, playing with it until she arched her back against it. Then the most perfect feeling, the wave of lust that shot from her breast and the final delicious lick from his hot tongue on her sex, sent her over the edge. She cried out and he covered her mouth with his hand while sharp zings of pleasure rippled throughout her entire satisfied body.
This time, however, she was not going to be denied. She wanted to touch him, too. To see him. Make him feel the way he’d made her feel. She waited for the intense pleasure to recede from her body before she rose on one elbow and pressed him on his back. She kissed his mouth long and hard.
“We need to talk,” he began, trying to sit up.
But she wasn’t about to let him get away with it. “No. Shh.” She pressed a finger over his mouth just as he’d done earlier to her.
“Take off your breeches,” she demanded.
Lust flickered in his light eyes. “Sarah, you don’t know—”
“I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m only going to touch you. Only touch.”
Her hands found his waist and she set about pulling down his breeches. Christian moved his hand down to stop her.
“Don’t stop me or I’ll scream and the entire household will come running,” she warned.
“You wouldn’t dare.” His eyes flashed at her.
“In the mood I’m in tonight, I absolutely would dare. Now take off your breeches or else.”
* * *
Christian did as he was told. In his entire adult life, he couldn’t remember anything as lust inducing as beautiful Sarah ordering him about in bed. She wanted him to take off his breeches. He would comply. Not only because he wanted to know what she was going to do to him, but also because he believed her when he said she might well scream and bring the house down on them. He couldn’t allow her reputation to suffer when she’d clearly come here so upset. He wasn’t certain what she was capable of at the moment. But he—and his cock—desperately wanted to find out.
The Legendary Lord Page 20