Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he leaned toward Sabrina and nudged her with his nose. She had not resisted as he set his lips to hers. Instead, she welcomed him to taste, sample, and explore. Aroused by her mere proximity, he was careful not to touch her. The only contact they shared was with their mouths. Moaning softly, she reached for his wrist.
Everett sensed her interest, her desire to know him, as he ached to know her. If she had determined to learn that sport, there was no one better to teach her the games men and women played. And he was a master in that particular skill.
Let the lessons commence.
He had thought to rouse her with a beckoning kiss, but as heat poured through his veins, inviting him to run wild, he answered the call.
Her call.
Because he sought not to scare her, he steeled himself with the knowledge that Sabrina was an innocent. He wanted to take his time, to show her measure for measure the passion they could enjoy, what he could give her, and all that she could give him. Envisioning her warm and inviting on their wedding night, an event he looked forward to with great anticipation, Everett decided he would gladly wait.
Until she scored her nails to the back of his neck, held him to her, and emitted a plaintive cry. Blood pooled in his loins, as an elemental warning, and he feared he might be erect until the New Year. He needed to pull back before he stripped her bare and took her like a navy man just returned from sea.
His fishing rod skittered on the ground, and they came up for air.
Sabrina leapt to the fore. “You have a bite.”
“Hell and the Reaper.” Everett took a long, deep breath before jumping to his feet. She was going to kill him.
“Hurry.” She grabbed the wayward instrument, laughing as she struck a battle-ready pose. “No worries, as I have it.”
In a flash, he ran to her side, and she handed him the rod. Before he could lock his stance, the fish at the other end tugged hard. “Whoa.”
“Pull back.” Sabrina jolted his elbow. “You must be steadfast.”
“I am.” He gritted his teeth.
“Watch the line.” She yanked his wrist. “Do not get it tangled on the rocks.”
“Do you want to bring in this fish, or shall I?” Everett snapped, as another jerk brought him to the water’s edge. “Bossy woman.”
“Watch out!” Sabrina shouted an alarm. “Oh, he is a big one.”
In her excitement, she stepped too close to the shoreline and slipped. In the heat of the sport, Everett caught her in his clutch, even as he held tightly to the rod, and Sabrina managed to stabilize herself. But he stumbled into the shallow, rocky bank of the stream, while chasing the resistant catch, and moss-covered stones were like a sheet of ice beneath his booted feet.
In an attempt to gain traction, Everett released the rod and flapped his arms, as he fought to gain his balance and avoid going into the drink. To his utter mortification, he was positive he headed for an unscheduled bath in front of his future wife, and she would never let him forget it. Suddenly, he grasped something solid, anchored himself, and stood upright.
Unfortunately, that something solid was Sabrina, just before she fell, face first, into the stream.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Achoo!”
Sabrina wiped her nose and huddled beneath a blanket as the carriage conveying her, Cara, their mother, and Everett turned onto Upper Brooke Street. In a state of nervous unrest, she chewed her lip, marveled that any of it remained intact, and peeked at the others.
Everyone stared out the windows, ignoring the fact that she closely resembled a drowned rat. Or perhaps they sought to avoid the not-too-subtle odor of eau de trout she currently sported.
She was thankful when the carriage halted in front of the Douglas townhouse before anyone was overcome by the smell. Ever quick to open the door, the footman wrinkled his nose when he caught wind of her, and Sabrina stepped down without accepting a hand.
“Achoo!”
Sabrina was not sure what was worse, enduring the silent trudge through the woods with Everett, the repeated squish of her slippers the only sounds to be heard, or facing her mother and Cara upon return to the main house. Wiping at her runny nose, she felt awful, and a dark sense of foreboding settled in her chest.
If Everett quit his suit and ran, screaming mad, for the country, she would not blame him. And to compound her misery, she was sure no one else would blame him, either. Polite society, which was anything but polite, would think he had finally come to his senses.
“Achoo!”
#
“Sabrina, go straight upstairs and get out of those wet clothes. You need a hot bath.” Lady Amanda turned to Everett. “Lord Markham, please forgive my daughter--”
“I assure you, Lady Amanda, it was entirely my fault.” How unfair it was that his most unlikely lady bore the burden of his clumsy buffoonery, when she was an innocent victim. He frowned as Sabrina climbed the stairs, Cara in tow, without so much as a backward glance.
“Rubbish.” Lady Amanda smiled and shook her head. “It is not the first time Sabrina has taken an impromptu splash. She is her father’s daughter.”
“Damn right she is.” Admiral Douglas appeared in the hall to the left. He stepped forward and shook Everett’s hand. “What is this about an impromptu splash?”
“Oh, you will favor this, though you will not be surprised.” Lady Amanda tugged off her gloves. “Your youngest daughter decided to take a swim, fully clothed, while fishing with Lord Markham.”
Everett held his breath, awaiting the explosion that was, no doubt, forthcoming, and it were no less than he deserved. Admiral Douglas stood stock still for a pregnant moment. Then, without warning, he burst into laughter.
“Please, sir, I am to blame,” Everett explained. “I lost my footing, almost broke my neck, and Sabrina saved me.”
“This is your fault.” Lady Amanda folded her arms and cast a stern stare at her husband. “You encourage her without thought of the consequences.”
“Enough, Amanda. As you so eloquently assert, on occasions too numerous to count, Sabrina is my daughter.” With a palm pressed to his belly, Admiral Douglas chuckled and then arched a brow. “If Lord Markham is to marry our girl, he had best become accustomed to her...carefree nature.”
“Humph.” Lady Amanda whirled about and ascended the stairs. “Carefree, indeed.”
How Everett’s heart ached for his future wife. An afternoon of fun had turned into an exercise in humiliation, and never had he seen her so downcast. Despite his pleas to the contrary, her mother remained convinced of Sabrina’s guilt, and she endured the scolding without once proclaiming the truth of the situation, and that had not sat well with him. For good or ill, he vowed it was the last time she shouldered the blame for his transgressions.
#
“What else can you tell me of this institution called marriage?” Everett swirled the amber liquid in his brandy balloon and shot Trevor a quick glance. With his old friend from Eton and Dirk, Everett once again commiserated their respective positions in a private room at White’s.
Having always tried to be the best at any endeavor he had undertaken, he approached his nuptials in much the same manner, by formulating a strategy to ensure his ultimate success.
Had there been books written on the topic, he would have poured over each volume, as he would have studied for an exam. However, after a trip to the bookseller yielded no serviceable results, as no such subject matter existed, Everett resorted to seeking what he considered expert advice. He so wished to be a good husband to Sabrina and desperately wanted their union to be a triumph in cooperation.
“Ah, yes.” Trevor snapped his fingers. “For some odd reason they will come to you with a litany of problems, with no expectation of a solution.”
“He is right.” Dirk concurred, with a dip of his chin. “If she brings you what appears to be an insurmountable quandary, and the answer stares you in the face, for heaven’s sake do not tell her.”
&
nbsp; “Do not offer advice unless it is solicited.” Trevor pointed in emphasis. “Else you will suffer the consequences.”
“Oh, I say.” Puzzled, Everett shook his head. “Then what the devil am I to do?”
“Listen,” Dirk inserted.
“Exactly.” Trevor nodded in agreement. “And keep your mouth shut.”
“I am to do nothing?” Scooting to the edge of his seat, Everett narrowed his stare. “I do not understand.”
“Neither did I, at first.” Dirk shrugged. “But after having my head lopped off, despite my good intentions, I have learned to sit there, with my lips sealed, and endure my wife’s complaints with a semblance of unimpaired aplomb.”
“You can nod--sympathize, even.” Trevor leaned forward, planted elbows to knees, and rested his chin in his palm. “But by all means do not solve her conundrum.”
“Trust us.” Dirk crossed his legs and sighed. “You will be much safer that way.”
“Bloody hell.” Everett downed the last of his brandy in a single gulp and frowned. “How am I to remember the rules of such shark-infested waters polite society has the audacity to call marriage? I should have stayed in the navy. If you ask me, war is much simpler than wives.”
“Oh, do not fret, my friend, as you need only find your stride, and the first year should suffice. Plus, there is one benefit to the situation that trumps the pitfalls.” Trevor smirked, reclined in his chair, and cast Dirk a side-glance. “All that pent up energy often lends itself to another arena, with which you will have no complaint.”
Dirk’s eyes widened, and recognition dawned in his expression. “Ah, Lockwood is correct. When my wife is in a state, one touch, the slightest caress, and I often find myself in another more appealing scenario.”
“Really?” Everett snapped to attention. “Are we talking a few chaste kisses or a full scale seduction?”
“The latter, and my Becca actually bit me, once.” Dirk gazed at the floor and smiled. “Rouses my roger just thinking of it, but if you ever mention it to her, I will kill you.”
“Do I look like a chatty chit?” Everett snorted. “And are you serious?”
“Indubitably.” Trevor waved for a refill. “Caroline fancies herself quite the Delilah, a regular temptress, if you get my meaning. Tore my best coat and took me on the floor of the drawing room, before the hearth, after a ripping row. But if you breathe a word of it to her, I will slit your gullet.”
“Now I would never betray your confidence, but I will remember that the next time I join you for dinner.” Everett winked and raised his glass in toast. “Gentlemen, I believe I am going to like being married.”
#
It was the fashionable hour, and the ton turned out in force for the daily ritual known as the Promenade. Strolling behind Alex and Elaine, Sabrina and Cara smiled and nodded their acknowledgement to various acquaintances.
“I wonder where the men are this evening?” Cara scanned the crush. “The Brethren are curiously absent.”
Sabrina smiled, a knowing smile. “They are preparing to sail.”
In an instant, Alex and Elaine stopped and cornered Sabrina.
“The devil you say.” Alex glanced left and then right. “Spill it, Brie.”
“It is true.” Sabrina nodded once. “The Brethren had a meeting this morning.”
The Brethren of the Coast was a secret order of Nautionnier Knights whose members descended from the famed Templars, the warriors of the Crusades, and Sabrina’s father led the group.
“Oh, little sister, shame on you.” Cara arched a brow and frowned. “Were you listening outside papa’s study again?”
“Do not scold her, Cara.” Elaine elbowed the elder Douglas in the ribs. “She is our best and most reliable source of information. Without her, we would know nothing.”
“Enough stalling.” With unveiled determination, Alex folded her arms in front of her and lowered her chin. “Tell us what you heard.”
“Well, since the brave assault at Badajoz, Wellington has pushed eastward, at great cost to our troops.” Sabrina paused and chose her words carefully, as Alex harbored a wicked crush on the captain of the HMS Intrepid, Jason Collingwood, and Brie had not intended to worry her friend. “The Brethren are to assist the Royal Navy, namely the Intrepid, by delivering reinforcements and supplies.”
“Oh, dear.” Alex clasped her hands and bit her lip. “I do hope their mission will not be too dangerous.”
“I suppose that is why mama told me that you two are coming to stay with us, and you should not fret for their safety.” Cara gathered Alex and Elaine in a circle of comfort. “I am certain everything will be all right.”
As Cara tended their friends, it amazed Sabrina how her older sister always knew the right thing to say. She wondered why Everett had not chosen someone more refined--someone like Cara--to marry.
In truth, Sabrina wondered why he had chosen her.
“Just think, we can enjoy the delights of the Season and stay up late, trading stories.” Cara shot Sabrina a sly glance, and the hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. “I daresay the most promising entertainment is my sister’s courtship.”
“Ooh, I almost forgot.” Elaine squealed and bounced. “Do tell, Brie. How goes it with the impossibly handsome Lord Markham?”
“Thank you, ever so much.” Sabrina glared at her older sister, because she had been hoping to divert attention from her somewhat awkward situation with Everett by focusing the conversation on the Brethren’s latest mission. “I do not know what you mean.”
“You are most welcome, and do not play innocent, as you know what I reference.” Cara grinned, the cat that ate the canary. “Does a headfirst dip in the stream while fishing ring any bells? Perhaps your ears are still filled with water?”
“What?”
“You took a swim with Lord Markham?”
“Were you clothed?”
“What was he wearing?”
Again Sabrina looked left, and then right, as she faced the rapid-fire questions from Alex and Elaine. How could she respond to their queries and save a measure of pride? “Well--”
“No, she did not take a swim with me. I accidentally knocked her in the drink when she tried to keep me from falling. And, yes, we were both clothed.”
So engrossed in conversation, Sabrina had not noticed Lord Markham approached their group. And though she would not have thought it possible, she had managed to embarrass herself twice in front of her prospective groom in a sennight. Why on earth would the damn fool man not quit his suit? Uncharacteristic and unappreciated unease and self-doubt clawed at her nerves. She wanted to marry him, yet she wanted him not. Oh, where was a runaway carriage when she needed one?
Swallowing an unladylike curse, she faced her nemesis.
Everett smiled, a brilliant smile that melted her heart in a flash of teeth. Slowly, with what she was certain was a well-orchestrated flourish, he bowed.
Sabrina wanted to crawl beneath the nearest rock.
It was bad enough she had to share the folly and subsequent mortification of their fishing expedition, but to be caught by Everett while doing so was the height of humiliation. And yet she wondered why his approval was so important to her.
He trapped her gaze as he straightened. “May I escort you, Miss Douglas?”
She would have given anything to refuse him, but to do so would be tantamount to a cut and very bad form. And her form was bad enough, already. So Sabrina had done what she would normally do when faced with dire circumstances.
She persevered.
Accepting his proffered arm, she held her head high. “How very kind of you, Lord Markham.” She took two steps--and tripped on the uneven pavement.
It was her good fortune that Everett was prepared for the awkward antics of his unconventional bride-to-be. He caught her by the forearms and discreetly righted her. One hand skimmed her fast rising gooseflesh and claimed her wrist, thereby depositing her hand in the crook of his elbow in one refined move.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
To wit, he winked. “Always a pleasure, Miss Douglas.”
#
Early the following morning, sitting tall in the saddle of his chestnut hunter, Everett surveyed the park until his eyes fell upon the object of his desire. Admiral Douglas hinted the previous night at the Waddlington Ball that his youngest daughter had a particular fondness for morning rides. Puzzled but grateful, he had the distinct impression the admiral aided Everett’s suit.
Dressed in a teal wool riding habit, Sabrina painted a pretty picture of elegance atop her roan mare. He chuckled. Oh, how appearances could be deceiving. Her strength was in her abrasive underbelly, not a polished veneer. For her sake and his sanity, he hoped she was a better rider than dancer.
Heeling the flanks of his mount, Everett set a course for his lady. The admiral turned and waved a greeting, and then Sabrina peered in his direction. He knew the minute she recognized him, because she stiffened her back.
Everett smiled.
That a woman most men of the ton ignored had felled a rake of his caliber was rumored to be the supreme comeuppance. Their courtship was currently the favored on-dit by the gossipmongers, which had not bothered him a bit. Though most looked on him with sympathy, he considered it his ultimate good fortune. Now if he could only get Sabrina to accept his offer of marriage before the rest of his set warmed to her positive qualities.
He reined in, bringing his chestnut aside her mare, sandwiching her between himself and the admiral, and nodded once. “Admiral. Miss Douglas. A fine morning, is it not?”
“Lord Markham, fancy meeting you here.” The admiral winked and grinned, all but declaring his part in the connubial conspiracy.
“Lord Markham.” Sabrina faced forward, refusing to meet his gaze. “What a lovely surprise.” The last was said with a measure of sarcasm, as if she knew full well her father had supported his campaign.
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