Forever After (The Forever Series #3)

by Cheryl Holt

  Nicholas released him, and he staggered to regain his balance.

  “You’re as deranged as Robert was,” Winthrop said. “You’re worse than he was. You think you own the whole bloody world. You think everyone should bow down.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You’re vain and smug. You’re just like him.”

  Nicholas grinned and nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He turned and was swallowed up by the crowd. If Winthrop called out again, he didn’t hear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “So we’re agreed? You won’t marry him?”

  “I don’t suppose I should.”

  Sarah smiled at her sisters, but it was wobbly and tentative. Did she mean it?

  She did and she didn’t. They’d been pressuring her to rebuff Nicholas, and Catherine had been particularly adamant. When she’d been working in London, she’d witnessed too much of his misbehavior. Her ceaseless harangue had underscored the scant information Sarah possessed about what sort of man he was.

  Mildred didn’t know him any better than Sarah, but she was willing to risk it. Could Sarah risk it too?

  He’d been gone for four weeks, and since the minute he’d ridden away with Clayton Farnsworth she hadn’t heard from him. Mildred had received a few curt messages, but Sarah hadn’t received a single one. She was trying not to be hurt by that fact, but why would he write to Mildred and not to her?

  It reinforced how mixed up their relationship was, and it was causing her to doubt him. It was providing her sisters with too many opportunities to make her worry. Why didn’t he come back? What if he never came back? What if he got distracted by his card games or philandering and simply moved on to a prettier, richer girl?

  “What if I’m with child?” she asked them.

  “Haven’t your monthlies started?” Abigail replied.

  “Yes.”

  “It indicates there’s no babe.”

  “Oh. I knew that I guess. What if people find out what happened between us? There would be a big scandal, and they’d wonder why we didn’t wed.”

  “Only immediate family learned of it,” Catherine said, “and we’ll never tell.”

  “What about Mildred?”

  “What about her?” Catherine inquired.

  “She’ll be so disappointed if she doesn’t have a wedding to plan.”

  They were in the front parlor at Wallace Downs, another pleasant evening rolling to a close. They’d been busy reviewing wedding invitations and guest lists.

  Sarah hadn’t mentioned it, but she wished she and Nicholas could join in the ceremony. After all, it would be a double wedding. Why couldn’t it be a triple one? Neither of them had suggested it though, and with their being so vehemently opposed to Nicholas it wouldn’t have occurred to them that she’d like to be included.

  They were demanding she give up what might be her sole chance at happiness, but they hadn’t seen Sarah and Nicholas together so they didn’t realize how sparks flew.

  Could a libertine redeem himself? Could he grow to be constant and true? Her sisters refused to believe it, but Mildred had been persuaded. What if Mildred’s opinion was the correct one? What if Sarah listened to her sisters and they ruined everything?

  “What about when Mr. Swift returns?” Catherine asked Abigail. “It will be difficult for Sarah to break it off with him.”

  Abigail nodded. “And he’s not the type of fellow who would blithely abandon his suit.”

  “We could have Alex chase him away,” Catherine said.

  Sarah scowled. “I can’t abide any quarreling, and I most especially don’t need Alex to send him away. I can handle it on my own.”

  “You?” Her sisters hooted with laughter.

  “He has you wrapped around his little finger,” Catherine scoffed. “You could never put your foot down with him.”

  Abigail added, “And I don’t think you really want to put your foot down. Are you prepared to cry off?”

  “Yes,” Sarah insisted, but not with much vehemence.

  When they were glowering so ferociously, it seemed impossible to defy them.

  She was so miserable! If Nicholas showed up and she consented to wed him, she’d upset her sisters and perhaps cause a breach with them. Or she could end the engagement and spurn him, but then she’d hurt Nicholas and Mildred and cause a breach with them. No viable conclusion had presented itself.

  If she didn’t marry him, what then? What would become of her? She’d spend the rest of her life tottering around Wallace Downs and fretting over what might have been.

  “Could we stop talking about this for once?” she asked.

  “We can stop,” Catherine said, “after we’ve convinced you to reject him.”

  “You’ve convinced me,” Sarah claimed.

  “I can read your mind, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “We haven’t convinced you at all.”

  She was weary of arguing with them. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

  She stood and walked out. Behind her, they were whispering, plotting over how they would continue to brow beat her until she was completely cowed.

  In matrimonial matters, a female was expected to heed her family. Shouldn’t she accept their view? Didn’t they know what was best? No, they didn’t know. Or maybe they did. How could she be sure?

  She trudged up to her room and went inside. There was a French window in the sitting room that opened onto a small balcony. She stepped out and gazed at the stars.

  In the years she’d worked in London, when she’d been separated from her sisters, she’d always stared at the heavens and prayed for their safety. Now she prayed for herself, for guidance, for wisdom. She prayed for Nicholas and for Mildred too.

  She figured she should crawl into bed, but she wasn’t really tired and would never be able to relax. She was too scattered in her thoughts and wishes.

  What would she like to have happen? What dream should come true? What if she tossed Nicholas away and wound up like Mildred? She’d be a lonely, pathetic spinster whose one chance for love had passed her by.

  She sighed, feeling as if her burdens were particularly heavy. Then she spun and dragged herself to her bedchamber. As she entered it, a man over in the corner said, “It took you long enough to haul your pretty behind upstairs.”

  She staggered so vehemently she nearly fell down. Ever since the incident with Clayton Farnsworth, she’d been jumpy and anxious. But it wasn’t Clayton.

  “How did you get in here?” she asked Nicholas.

  “How do you suppose?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You’re not about to scream, are you?”

  “It depends on what you’re planning.”

  “Can’t you guess?”

  “No, but with how you sneaked in, it doesn’t seem as if you have a decent purpose.”

  “You could be right.”

  He was dressed all in black, like a highwayman about to rob a carriage. With a knife dangling from a sheath at his waist, he looked deliciously dangerous, a rogue no girl should ever consider as a husband. Down the road, he’d probably only bring trouble. A woman who had siblings urging caution was lucky to have such shrewd counsel.

  He yanked her inside, then pushed the door shut. Before she could blink, he drew her into his arms and started kissing her. Instantly, she was overwhelmed and couldn’t decide how to respond except to kiss him back.

  When they were apart, she forgot how manly he was. He was bigger and stronger and taller, and he wanted certain things so desperately. He reached out and seized what he craved. His masculine temperament was simply too powerful to ignore or deflect. And why would she want to ignore or deflect it?

  He lifted her and pressed her to the wall, her skirt rucked up and her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands roamed over her hair and shoulders, her breasts and bottom. Each caress was like a bolt o
f lightning to her innards, her body sizzling with desire.

  He broke away from her and abruptly said, “Will you marry me?”

  “I can’t—at the moment.”

  “Wrong answer,” he muttered, and he began kissing her again.

  His loins were crushed to hers, the fabric of their clothes the only barrier to iniquity, and she vividly recalled the delectable deeds he’d perpetrated that erotic night in Bath. Apparently, her anatomy couldn’t wait for it to reoccur.

  Was she loose? Was she a strumpet? How was it that he simply touched her and she was eager to commit any sin?

  He pulled away again. “A few weeks ago, you had a different answer for me.”

  “Well, yes, but it was weeks ago.”

  “Are you fickle? Are you inconstant in your affections?”

  “No. I simply changed my mind.”

  “Wrong answer,” he repeated.

  His luscious attack commenced anew, and he was definitely wearing her down. Catherine and Abigail had had most of a month to coerce and dissuade her. He’d had mere seconds, and she was putty in his hands.

  “Who has been talking to you?” he asked.

  “My sisters.”

  “As I suspected,” he scoffed. “What did they say about me?”

  “I shouldn’t mention it. It would only upset you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly upset me. I hardly know them, and their opinions mean naught to me.”

  “Their arguments don’t help your case.”

  “They’re opposed to the match, and you are obedient and pliable. Is that it? You’ll behave precisely as they tell you?”

  “Ah…sort of.”

  “You can’t stand up to them? You collapse under pressure?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t want to be happy? You’re determined to be miserable?”

  “No. It’s just that they might have a point.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re a gambler and libertine.”

  “Yes, so?”

  “You chase women and raise hopes and flee when the situation gets dicey.”

  “Absolutely. I’ve never been keen on the prospect of being shackled to a trollop. I’ve been holding out for a better choice.”

  “Me?”

  “Of course.”

  He gazed down at her, his blue eyes riveting, and it was so difficult to remain aloof and detached.

  “Stop staring at me like that,” she said.

  “Like what?” But from how he grinned, it was clear he wasn’t confused by her comment.

  “When you smile like that, I can’t think straight.”

  “You shouldn’t think straight. Not when your thoughts are so convoluted. You need to be saved from your delusions.”

  “How is it a delusion to be wary of you? You’re not exactly the premier catch in the world. Why shouldn’t I be cautious?”

  In light of how hotly their amour had flared, she sounded prim and ridiculous. There was nothing cautious about what had happened between them. They’d already lain together and were fortunate there wasn’t a baby on the way.

  He placed her on her feet so hastily that she stumbled, and he had to reach out to steady her. His expression had altered to exasperation.

  “I’m not a patient man, Sarah.”

  “I realize you’re not.”

  “I won’t twiddle my thumbs while you come to your senses.”

  “I realize that too.”

  “So how long are you expecting to dither and debate? How long should I pace and wait for you to arrive at the correct conclusion?”

  “I’m sure a few…months will suffice.”

  “Months!”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?” she asked.

  “I mean this is the ludicrous result I predicted when I was away in London.”

  “I’ve simply been discussing this with my family, and they’ve had some pertinent opinions to share.”

  “Bugger your family,” he crudely said. “If you reject me and I leave, I won’t return.”

  “Oh.” He was very proud so she probably couldn’t have anticipated any other behavior.

  “I won’t beg you.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll abandon you here with your nieces and sisters and their husbands. You can waste away the years watching them thrive, but what will you have to call your own?”

  “It could be a good life for me,” she tepidly stated.

  “As you slowly choke on the tedium of your dreary existence—”

  “It won’t be tedious!”

  “Mildred and I will be cheerful and rich and traveling. We’ll sail to Italy and France. We’ll spend our winters in Spain and our summers in the Alps. How will you occupy your time?”

  She suffered a vision of the picture he’d described. She’d flit from Stanton Manor to Wallace Downs, living vicariously through her sisters. She’d observe as they birthed children and raised children. Eventually, she’d help the twins plan their weddings.

  She’d be their spinster aunt, the kindly one who braided their hair and advised them on fashion, who squired them to museums and chaperoned them at balls. But she wouldn’t really live.

  If she hooked her wagon to his, she’d have excitement and adventure. They’d have money and the best of everything. There would be passion too and affection and children of her own. It was a thrilling notion.

  Yes, she’d doubted him, and yes, she’d wondered about his character and temperament. Yet people could change, couldn’t they? People could learn to be loyal and faithful, couldn’t they?

  Suddenly, he dropped to a knee and clasped hold of her hand.

  She scowled down at him and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “You know what.”

  “Should you? I’m so afraid it will be a huge mistake.”

  “I swear, Sarah Henley, there are occasions when I truly believe you are the silliest woman I’ve ever met. I can’t fathom why I put up with you.”

  “I’m not silly. I’m prudent and careful.”

  “No, you’re silly so be silent and listen to me.”

  “You better offer a remark worth hearing.”

  “It’s worth hearing.” He kissed the center of her palm, then smiled up at her, his gaze a warm caress. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “I fervidly agree that I’m not the greatest catch.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I have terrible habits and a dissolute attitude.”

  “You’re correct. You have.”

  “I’m a bastard’s son, sired on a young, naïve girl who didn’t have the sense to avoid being seduced.”

  “She never regretted it though.”

  “No, she didn’t, but my father left without a goodbye. If his attachment had been sincere, he wouldn’t have deserted her. So we have to assume I have the blood of a cad running in my veins.”

  “Catherine has been quite adamant about your base tendencies.”

  “I’ve broken hearts and philandered and basically carried on like a wastrel and rogue.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “But I think I was hunting for you. I think I felt you were out there waiting for me, and I’d find you if I searched hard enough.”

  “That’s your excuse for philandering? You were searching for me?”

  She laughed, and he pulled her to him and hugged her around the waist.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  “Oh, Nicholas, I just don’t see how I can.”

  “You can’t refuse. I won’t let you.”

  “My sisters are so opposed.”

  “I don’t care about them. I only care about you and me.”

  “How can I defy them? You’re asking me to make a desperate choice. I want all of you to be happy, but there doesn’t seem a way to achieve that r
esult.”

  “If you reject me, Mildred and I will depart. We won’t ever come back.”

  “I figured you wouldn’t.”

  “Can you break it off? Is that the ending you could accept?”

  “No, but I have to persuade Catherine and Abigail. I can’t proceed until I have, and I merely need some time to accomplish it.”

  “They’ll never change their minds about me.”

  “They might,” she claimed.

  “If I can’t have you as my wife, what will I have? Don’t force me to go on without you.”

  It was such a sweet comment, and it niggled at the wall she’d built to keep him at bay. She’d known—once he was finished with Clayton in London—that he’d bluster in and propose again. She’d thought she could spurn him as her siblings had been demanding, but how could she?

  He belonged to her, but Abigail and Catherine didn’t understand that. If she pushed him away, he’d move out into the world as a rich gentleman. Eventually, he’d wed some other woman who was shrewd enough to latch onto him when he asked. If that moment ever arrived, Sarah wouldn’t survive it.

  He was hers. She couldn’t allow him to leave, and she couldn’t give him away to someone else. If her sisters couldn’t comprehend that fact, she couldn’t help them.

  What if she married him despite their objections? What was the worst that could happen? If he proved himself over the years to be faithful and steadfast—as she was sure he would—wouldn’t they relent?

  He rose to his feet, his expression a mix of tender regard and irritation.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t be stubborn,” he said, “but you’ve left me with no other option.”

  “What option? What are you talking about?”

  Before she could guess his intent, he slipped a rope onto her wrist. As he tightened it, she recognized it as the precise sort of knot Clayton Farnsworth had used when he’d dragged her away.

  “Nicholas Swift! What are you thinking?”

  “I’m kidnapping you. I got the idea from my cousin, Clayton. Were you aware that he’s my cousin?”

  “No.”

  “He was correct about you. You never listen, and it’s Nicholas Stone these days. Let’s go.”

  He started toward her dressing room, and she planted her feet, the rope yanking him to a halt.