by Joan Vincent
“It would be impossible for me to—”
“You would. You will when you know the truth.”
At her sob, Hadleigh tightened his hold. “Sarah, our love took birth in this room. It conquered fear.”
Sarah could not stop crying. “You would—never have—been in this room, but—for me.”
“I know—”
“You do not know,” Sarah cried out. “I betrayed you.”
Hadleigh turned her to face him. He kept her in the loving circle of his arms. “What foolishness is this?”
“That—that day in the White Hart. When you entered, Elminda noticed. I told her you were not following us but the man from the apothecary shop. I saw that man—George. He stared at me. He heard those wretched words.”
Hadleigh tried to gather her close but she braced her hands against his chest. “How could you believe I would blame you for such an innocent part?”
Consternation filled Sarah’s eyes. “But I am responsible.”
“No more than André. No more than I.”
Contrarily, anger reared its head. “Do not mock me.”
“Next you will say I am not angry because I am kind.” Hadleigh kissed the tip of her nose. “I do not have your sainted patience. We shall wed as soon as I can obtain a special license.”
Where Sarah had thought to see scorn, had feared to see hatred, love still shone. Quicksilver eyes flashed an invitation. She sank into him, drank his fiery heat.
* * *
Edgerton Manor December 16th Saturday
“Stop fidgeting,” Elminda commanded and handed Sarah the bouquet of hothouse herbs mixed with flowers that had arrived from London that morning with the groom and his family.
Sarah kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek.
Elminda returned it. “You are a lovely bride. And the morning salon is bedecked with the most glorious flowers. In December! Hadleigh has worked miracles.”
It all is rather miraculous, thought Sarah.
Hadleigh and André had left the same day they arrived and hurried to London for a special license. They had ordered all manner of things—as her bouquet and the flowers that decorated the morning salon attested. More importantly, they collected family and friends. The manor was bursting with Tarrants and the Comte de Cavilon’s family.
A momentary sadness at her lack of family enveloped Sarah. Then Amabelle and Elminda began to fuss over her. She was not alone; she never would be again after this day.
Arranging the skirts of Sarah’s gown, Elminda said, “You are not to worry about Amabelle and Crandall. I am here as chaperone until they are safely wed. Do not fret about their wedding arrangements.”
“We must go,” Amabelle insisted.
Elminda stepped back. “Beautiful,” she sighed.
Sarah glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The empire-waisted gown of French lace and fine tulle that Hadleigh had brought for her complimented her as no dress ever had.
Amabelle hugged her. “You far outshine me, Stepmama. Hadleigh is a very lucky man.”
* * *
Hadleigh tried to keep his impatience contained as he and André were driven away from the White Hart. He kept his mind trained on all the details of the day, afraid he would burst with happiness if he gave full reign to contemplation of Sarah as his wife. “Do you have the ring?” he asked André.
“For the hundredth time, yes.” De la Croix drew a silk handkerchief from his jacket and unfolded it to reveal an ornate gold band which had several diamonds mounted on it. “Your mother’s.” He moved it aside and uncovered the plain gold band Hadleigh had insisted on.
“Both sized for Sarah’s finger,” André added to forestall that question. “Everything is arranged. Now relax.”
“I fear something will go awry. I know it is nonsense but—”
“I am very happy you have found such joy.”
Gripping his hand, Hadleigh said, “I pray you find the same.” The next moment he asked, “Did I remind the coachman to have several warm bricks ready for Sarah’s feet?”
“Not another word until your vows,” threatened André.
* * *
Lady Juliane took possession of her nephews as soon as Cauley showed them into the Chipped Pitcher Salon. “Sarah asked that you wear this on your jacket.” She held up the dried sprig of Bishop’s wort Hadleigh had left on the Culpepper. Pinning it in place, the countess smoothed his jacket and then stepped back. She surveyed both of her handsome adopted sons with pride. Tears pricked her eyes. Then her gaze happened upon the clock and she started. “We must go to the morning salon.”
Hadleigh and André each offered her an arm and once there, kissed her before they took their places beside the vicar.
When the salon door opened, André touched Hadleigh’s sleeve. “Ta femme est très belle. Your wife is most beautiful,” he repeated in English.
Hadleigh’s breath caught. A wreath of white roses crowned Sarah his queen. Her bouquet was as he had ordered. Flowers of all colours and kinds intermixed with the herbs of love. His heart overflowed as he took Sarah’s hand and placed it on his arm. Together they faced the vicar.
* * *
The marriage ceremony over, Sarah and Hadleigh endured their bridal breakfast. And then they were inside the coach, about to wave farewell.
Hadleigh had just finished straightening the rug across Sarah’s lap when André tossed him a box.
De la Croix winked. “I enjoyed the tome you left behind at Jermyn Street. You will see how much I have learned.” He closed the door and ordered the coachman to loose the horses.
Settling back, Hadleigh studied the box.
Sarah chuckled at his expression. “What is in it?”
“I do not know if we dare look.”
“Then I shall.” Sarah removed the lid. She stared at the mandrake root in the box.
“Oh, lord,” groaned Hadleigh. André had found the text’s exhortation of the mandrake root’s purported ability to promote fertility. Thinking Sarah would be hurt by the implication, he wanted to strangle André. To his amazement she laughed.
“How like André. I shall keep it with your sprig of Bishop’s wort and my roses.”
Hadleigh closed his arms about her and kissed her gently.
She whispered into his mouth, “I shall love you always.”
“And I you. I don’t know if I can wait until we arrive at the cottage Comte Cavilon is loaning us.” He trailed kisses across her ear and down her neck.
Sarah stopped him. She smiled at Hadleigh’s annoyance at the interruption. “There is something else in the box. Something André found for me – to give to you.” Sarah drew out a paper wrapped book and handed it to him.
Hadleigh unwrapped it. He fingered the lettering and grinned from ear to ear. “Martyn’s English Entomologist. How did you know?”
“A wife always knows,” Sarah said, and brought his lips back to hers.
* * *
Cauley halted at Sarah’s bedchamber door in Edgerton Manor. He watched Molly close the trunk. “‘Tis it ready to take down?”
Whirling about, the abigail frowned. “You startled me.”
“Startled is it?” The valet slowly walked up to her and touched her cheek. “Gilflurt, may I kiss you?”
“You told me you were sorry you did.”
“You heard me wrong, gilflurt. I said I was sorry I frightened you.”
“We are in Lady Edgerton’s bedchamber,” Molly protested. “I don’t think—”
“Too much thinking and too much talking’ll ne’er get us anywhere,” Cauley said and kissed her.
When he drew back, Molly smiled. “Don’t let that give you any ideas,” she told him. “You’d better get the trunks stowed. We leave early morn.”
Cauley kissed her again. “What’s Lady Edgerton’s opinion on her servants’ weddin’?”
* * *
Cavilon’s Cottage December 16th Saturday
Sarah struggled to subdue a gurgle of laughter as
the maid took her wraps after they entered. She longed to be alone with Hadleigh even though they had been alone the entire journey.
Hadleigh’s impatience was more than obvious to her. She shivered when he gathered her into his arms as soon as the door shut behind the woman. His grey eyes were silvered with barely restrained passion.
Sarah put her arms about his neck and inhaled his scent.
“Mrs. Tarrant, has the day tired you?”
Sarah ran her fingers down his lapel and slipped her hand beneath his waistcoat. The beat of his heart was strong and fast. “Not unduly, Mr. Tarrant.”
When Hadleigh kissed her forehead Sarah closed her eyes. The light touch of his lips on her eyes and then down her neck re-ignited the urgency that had been checked upon their arrival. She heard him speak and opened her eyes.
Giving a satisfied chuckle, Hadleigh asked a second time, “Are you hungry?”
Sarah thought of how very much she loved him. How different she wanted their marriage to be from her first. She withdrew her hand and slowly pulled on one end of his cravat. “Would you be unduly shocked if I said yes, but not for food?”
Grinning, Hadleigh pulled her against him, his kiss fiercely possessive. He lengthened the kiss, explored the curve of her breast, and feasted on her sigh of pleasure. Needy lust roared through him.
The tremor that ran through Hadleigh as he caressed her loosed a burst of heat in Sarah’s belly. She pressed against Hadleigh and recognized the proof of his desire against her stomach. She yearned to have his bare body beneath her hands and his hands on her body. “Husband.”
Hadleigh cupped her face. “Wife.”
The love in that one word mirrored a beauty Sarah had never before realized. She took his hands in hers and kissed each finger as she backed Hadleigh toward the stairs.
When he stumbled against the bottom step, Hadleigh captured her lips and stepped up a tread drawing her with him. Still kissing her he drew her up another step. He halted, his hands on the buttons on the back of her travelling gown.
Sarah divined Hadleigh’s intent through a haze of pleasure as she explored his mouth. She fumbled beneath his coat and tugged on the fastenings on his waistcoat. Sarah tweaked open a button and, then pulling her lips free, drew Hadleigh up a step with a gurgle of delight.
Sarah’s deep throaty laugh of invitation shook Hadleigh. He slipped the loops off the last buttons on the back of her gown as Sarah pushed his jacket and waistcoat back.
Going up more steps, they peeled his coat and waistcoat free and then her arms from her sleeves. Hadleigh moved behind her as they continued up the stairs and worked at the lacings on her corset.
Hadleigh was near cursing when he pulled the last lace free. He turned his bride to face him and trod on her gown as he pulled her corset free and hurriedly kicked off his boots.
When he turned back to Sarah, she worked at his shirt’s fastenings.
Neither noticed the chilly air. Hadleigh rained kisses from her bare shoulder to the hollow of her neck and across to the other. Bursts of pleasure tumbled through as he caressed her breasts with his strong slender fingers.
Sarah pushed him into the bedchamber, pulled off his cravat and then worked free his shirttail. She drew his mouth to hers, tangled her tongue with his, stroked, invited.
When Hadleigh pulled free and laid a hand on her cheek, Sarah put hers atop it and then placed his hand on her breast. When he traced a lazy heat-trailed circle around her nipple she arched her back to intensify this newfound pleasure. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he suckled her breasts through her shift.
Sarah drew in her breath, delighted in the sensations that rioted through her as she watched his strong lean fingers stroke her breasts and tease her hardened nipples.
Heat blazed through Sarah. She brought her hands to his head, drew him closer. Then she raised his chin so she could claim his lips. While they kissed she hungrily splayed her hands across his lean, muscled chest, and entwined her fingers in its wiry curls.
He tugged on the ribbon ties that held her chemise. When it fell past her waist, his wonder, his delight filled him with a great need for her to know what she meant to him. “I love you so,” he said as his hands explored her taut nipples.
Sarah re-explored the well-known terrain of his chest. She circled her hands ever lower until they reached his waistband.
Brushing down the front of his breeches, she absorbed the pulse of his desire. She caressed its length.
A low growl burst from Hadleigh. He reached down and took hold of Sarah’s hand. He claimed her lips, explored, teased her breasts. Running hands down her sides, feathering inward. He halted when his fingers met the scar beneath her breasts. Drawing back, he looked at it and then at Sarah. “Is there pain?”
“Kiss and make it well,” Sarah said hungrily. She luxuriated in the sensations he encouraged to ever greater heights. When he turned his attention from the scar to her breasts, Sarah again ran her hands down the front of his breeches. Back at the waistband, she prodded the top fastening open.
Another growl escaped Hadleigh. As one, they tore off his breeches and drawers. Falling onto the bed hungry for skin upon skin, they kissed, stroked, caressed each other, stoked their white hot desire.
Sarah absorbed the taste and texture of Hadleigh. She kissed and played her hands through the soft bristle of his dark wiry chest hair. As Sarah breathed in the sandalwood textured smell of him, she trailed eager fingers lower and lower; encouraged his hands and mouth to continue their magic.
Hadleigh moaned with need. He knew he was perilously close. Determined to pleasure Sarah, he suckled her breasts, caressed her abdomen, and then roved over her rounded hips. When he trailed his fingers between her thighs, he drank in Sarah’s moan. Hadleigh cupped her wet heat the same instant her hand closed on him and he almost lost control.
They both stilled.
Sarah released her hold, ran her fingers over the silken head of his shaft. “Do not speak,” she whispered, as she matched his fingers gentle circling. Sarah trailed kisses along Hadleigh’s jaw; claimed his mouth as he eased a finger inside her. She plunged her tongue deep as intense pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.
Then Hadleigh rolled over carrying Sarah on top of him.
Sarah rose over Hadleigh, settled astride his thighs. She gazed down in wonder. For the first time in her life she was aware of pulsing pleasure so real everything about them had disappeared. She read the desire in his eyes, saw that his need mirrored hers. Rising up, she guided his shaft home, then slowly sank down gasping with pleasure as bursts of light filled her.
Clutching Sarah’s buttocks, Hadleigh began to alternately lave and suckle her breast. Each of his strokes was answered by one of hers. When her muscles clenched his shaft and she threw back her head, he clutched her hands beside her head.
Sarah met each of Hadleigh’s thrusts with delirious fervour. Tension, intense with pleasure, spiralled tighter, wider, higher. Sarah tensed, gasped, shouted her ecstasy.
Hadleigh groaned Sarah as he followed her over the edge.
Gasping her way back to earth, Sarah began to kiss every inch of Hadleigh’s skin she could reach. “I never knew,” she murmured over and over, the intensity of their joining an enrapturing surprise.
Hadleigh kept Sarah locked against him, his shaft deep inside. “My love, my beautiful love,” he whispered stroking her velvet skin. The completeness of their union staggered him. Hadleigh marvelled that it satisfied and yet intensified his hunger for her.
Gradually they stilled and Hadleigh drew the blankets more securely about Sarah as they lay entwined, savouring each other. He slowly moved his hands up and down Sarah’s back. “Asleep?”
“No,” Sarah smiled, staring at the curve of his chin. She drew a finger across his lips, memorized their lines.
Hadleigh traced the ridge of the scar beneath her breasts, bent to kiss it. “Did I hurt you?”
Sarah chuckled, pressed against him. “Did I act
like I was hurt?” She nipped his shoulder. “I love you.”
“Not as much as I love you.” Hadleigh trailed his fingers across her hip. When she spread her legs at his touch, he said, his voice husky with satisfaction, “That puts the lie to it.”
Sarah slid her hand down his thigh. “Lie to what?”
“To your sainted patience,” he growled and rolled over on top of her. “At least I never claimed to have any,” Hadleigh said as he circled the nub firming beneath his touch.
Mewing, Sarah flashed a grin, which froze.
His hand stilled. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” He kissed her lips. “What did you think of? I will not tolerate secrets between us.”
Sarah wet her lips. “I—I was going to say that Sir Rufus was the one who claimed I was patient,” she said.
“Then he was truly a wretched man,” Hadleigh rumbled. He returned his attention to her nipple.
Sarah’s bubble of laughter faded beneath the arousal fanned by his mouth and hands.
“There will be no secrets between us. Swear it.”
“I swear it.” Sarah gasped as the tip of his penis penetrated, sending a frisson of pleasure roaring through her.
Hadleigh looked down at her as he pressed forward. When Sarah gasped, her expression startled, he stopped and would have withdrawn but for her hold on his buttocks.
Smiling, Sarah kissed his chin. “It is only that I just remembered I forgot to tell you something very important.”
“It must wait.”
“You forget my lack of patience.”
“Out with it, wife, I am in a hurry to conduct an important matter,” he commanded.
“As am I,” she agreed. “It is that—”
Hadleigh circled his hips against hers. “Yes?”
Sarah nibbled at his jaw. “Sir Rufus had the mumps after Amabelle’s birth.”
Now perfectly still, he stared down at her. “You mean—”
Smiling from ear to ear, savouring how well he filled her, Sarah nodded. She pulled against his buttocks, squirmed with delight at the resulting delicious fullness.