by Jenna Jaxon
Should his heart be hammering so hard at the sight of a woman he’d known only weeks?
Should this lump have appeared in his throat?
Should he have to clench his fists to keep his arms in check? To keep from closing the distance between them, pulling her to him, and never letting her go?
Over the years, Daniel had managed to convince himself that he’d exaggerated that indefinable pull he’d felt toward Sarah Starling. Now, he knew he hadn’t imagined or exaggerated its strength. It was there and as potent as ever.
But why was she here? How?
Did her brother know? Was she alone? Was she – his gut twisted painfully – was she married?
It made sense, he supposed. She’d disappeared without a trace and ended up in Scotland.
Perhaps her brother had told the truth. Perhaps she’d run to Gretna with that footman of hers.
Her gown was a beautiful satin confection of silver and white. She looked like an angel.
If she were married, would she be wearing whites and pastels still? The colours worn almost exclusively by debutantes and single ladies.
Oh, what did it bloody matter? She was here!
Daniel took a step toward her before he even realised what he was about.
But in that second, her eyes flared with some indefinable emotion, and before he could react properly, she turned and ran.
He had a moment’s indecision. A split second, really.
He couldn’t very well go chasing after a young woman in the middle of a ball. He was new here and was drawing enough attention based on his title alone.
What would people think to see a duke hie off after a runaway miss? He might be safer from gossip here than amongst the vipers of London, but it still likely wouldn’t look great if he were seen to be chasing down the single women of the village.
But it was Sarah.
And so good sense and propriety flew out the window and before he could second guess himself again, he took off after her.
There was no way he could let her disappear again.
Daniel ran into the hallway and realized that Sarah’s strange behaviour had managed to silence even the loquacious Mrs. McGregor, who was standing beside a young woman who looked vaguely familiar. Both the ladies’ mouths were open in surprise.
Daniel didn’t waste time stopping to speak to them. He just took off in the direction they were staring.
He ran down a short corridor then a rickety flight of stairs that led to a wooden door, which opened to the side of the building.
It was icy cold, and Sarah was wearing nothing but her short-sleeved gown. She’d freeze.
The sky was cloudless and clear, the moonlight illuminating the courtyard with its silvery light.
Daniel darted his gaze around, desperate to see which way she’d run.
His breath came in harsh pants; a mixture of the chase and the shock of finding Sarah here.
Where had she gone?
Suddenly he spotted her.
She was no longer running but standing stock still under a great oak bereft of leaves.
She looked so small, so vulnerable, and his heart squeezed in response.
God, how he wanted to protect her even though he knew she wasn’t his to protect.
Lust, desire, and something even deeper that he refused to name waged with shock, anger, and myriad other emotions inside him.
But the overwhelming feeling was one of ecstatic relief. No matter what the circumstances, no matter if she never wanted to see or speak to him again, he knew she was alive and well. That was more important than anything else.
Daniel didn’t know if Sarah heard his approach or not. Her back was to him, and her head was tilted up toward the starry sky.
He stepped slowly, cautiously toward her.
Suddenly his heart sank.
When she’d run, his instinct had been to follow.
But he hadn’t asked himself why she’d run.
She’d run from London, too.
Could it be because of him? Did he frighten her in some way? Upset her?
The thought made his gut clench.
The last thing he wanted was to hurt her in any way.
He hesitated momentarily. Perhaps chasing her was the wrong thing to do.
But damn it, he had to know just what was going on with her.
With renewed determination, he strode toward her, the frosty gravel crunching beneath his feet.
He saw her shoulders stiffen slightly then sink as she released a deep sigh.
He stopped a few feet from her, not wanting to invade her space and make her uncomfortable, even as his body yearned to pull her against him, to kiss her senseless, to feel her and know she was really here.
The silence stretched on until Daniel couldn’t bear it anymore.
“Sarah.”
Did that gravelly, coarse voice belong to him?
Finally, after eons, she turned to face him, and the breath left his body yet again.
Good God, she was ethereal.
No wonder he’d never quite managed to forget her.
She smiled, a little tightly, but enough to show the dimples in her cheeks that used to keep him up at night.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Hello, Daniel?
That’s what she would say? After disappearing without trace? After making him wonder if she were dead? And what about Isabelle, her supposed best friend? Daniel had plentiful conversations with the young duchess wherein she’d grieved the loss of her friend and worried herself sick.
He’d been shocked the first time Isabelle had spoken about Sarah. And bizarrely, he’d felt guilty! And though he’d never exactly confessed a vested interest in the whereabouts of Sarah Starling, in point of fact he’d never actually admitted to Isabelle that he knew her more than fleetingly, he’d grieved and worried right along with Isabelle.
And just like that, anger flared in him.
But even the anger couldn’t compete with the desperate need he felt for her.
It was a heady mixture of emotion, and one he was powerless to control.
He’d never even kissed her properly, not the way he wanted to. Her innocence had meant that he couldn’t. Not without scaring the wits out of her. So, this desperate desire was misplaced to say the least.
And there were a hundred questions to be asked and answered.
But none of that seemed to matter in this moment.
He reached out and grasped her arms, pulling her flush against him.
Without thought to consequences, Daniel lowered his head and took her mouth in a desperate, earth-shattering kiss.
***
Sarah had felt a fleeting moment of good sense when she questioned whether or not she should allow Daniel to kiss her, but it wasn’t long before all senses, good or otherwise, were overtaken by a hot, burning desire, the likes of which she’d never experienced.
Her heart flew as Daniel wrapped his impossibly strong arms around her, and when his lips coaxed her own open to dip his tongue inside her mouth, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven.
Daniel had given Sarah her first kiss, but it had been nothing like this.
He’d been holding out on her back then, that much was clear.
Sarah felt as though her very skin were on fire, and her whole body went up in flames. Never had she felt such a scorching, visceral need for something she couldn’t even name.
Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck, clinging on for dear life as his kisses turned her legs to liquid.
His arms were the only thing preventing her from melting to a puddle on the ground beneath her.
She could have stayed like that forever but suddenly, Daniel wrenched his mouth from hers and set her away from him.
Sarah staggered a little, and his hands shot out once more to grasp her shoulders, but as soon as she was steady, he let her go.
And it took more strength than it should have to keep from throwing herself at him again.
H
er breathing was laboured but no more than his own.
He stared at her in the moonlight and since he’d robbed her of the ability to speak, Sarah stared straight back.
What was there to say in any case?
Well, she had to say something.
“I –“
“You –“
They both spoke at once then laughed softly, self-consciously in her case.
“You were saying?” His voice was smooth and impressively unaffected.
That was a bit insulting, come to think of it.
She wasn’t sure her voice would ever be the same after a kiss like that.
Clearly, he didn’t suffer the same affliction.
“I, I – “ What had she been going to say? It wasn’t going to be anything remotely sensible. Her brain was currently the consistency of mush.
“It’s good to see you,” she settled for, which was inane in the extreme. But true.
He frowned in response, some emotion flaming fleetingly in his eyes. He blinked, and it was gone.
“Is it?” he asked softly. “Your running away would suggest otherwise.”
Sarah felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment.
He was going to demand an explanation, she knew. Not just for tonight but for London as well. And she didn’t have one for him.
If she were to tell him the truth, it would have consequences she wasn’t willing to entertain.
For one thing, it would affect Elizabeth and George after they’d been good enough to take her in.
For another, it was a secret that she needed to take to the grave. Her brother hadn’t exposed her yet, and she didn’t think he would so long as she stayed hidden away.
But finally, and most importantly, she didn’t think she could deal with the inevitable disgust and potential pity she would see in his gaze.
Sarah could handle plenty of things, but seeing Daniel turn away from her forever wasn’t one of them, she knew. And that was senseless, of course, given that she’d turned away from him, but logic had no place in her feelings for Daniel Sutton. It never had.
“I was – surprised to see you,” she hedged.
Daniel laughed but there was no humour in it.
“I was surprised to see you, too, Sarah. Imagine how I felt looking up and seeing the woman who has haunted me these past years standing in front of me.”
His words, though delivered with a bitterness that made her wince, caused her foolish heart to stutter. He’d thought of her?
Haunted, he’d said.
That shouldn’t please her. It was wicked to find pleasure in such a thing when he clearly wasn’t happy about it. And yet, she could not help feeling a little thrill that he hadn’t just forgotten her and carried on with his life.
“I hope you have been well,” she answered weakly, knowing it wasn’t any sort of real response.
And it was apparently the wrong thing to say, for a sudden furious anger flared in his eyes.
“Damn it, Sarah. This is not the time for polite chit-chat.”
Sarah welcomed his anger, for it fed her own and gave her something other than his kiss to focus on.
“Don’t swear at me,” she said hotly.
He gaped at her in astonishment before his eyes narrowed.
“I am sorry for my language.”
She snorted. He couldn’t be further from sorry.
“But we’re not just bumping into each other in a London ballroom here,” he continued, ignoring her unladylike behaviour. “So, the inane questions about my health are wearing very thin.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say why you bloody ran away without a word, and how you’ve ended up here.”
Of course, that was what he wanted. But she still had no idea how to answer him.
“You’re swearing again,” she mumbled mutinously.
“Sarah, I swear to God I –“
“Sarah!”
At the sound of a male voice shouting her name, both Sarah and Daniel turned around to see her cousin-in-law George marching toward them with a small entourage at his heels.
Sarah’s heart sank in dismay.
This was all going to take some explaining.
Her head began to ache, and she turned her eyes to Daniel, hoping he’d know what to say.
But the look on his face was thunderous as he glared at George, and a snake of apprehension slithered along her spine.
Why did he look as though he’d happily murder her cousin?
Before she could ask him, or say anything really, George stomped to a stop in front of them.
“What is going on here?” George demanded, looking furious.
Sarah took in the expressions of the small group that had now gathered behind George.
Elizabeth was eyeing them both speculatively, Mrs. McGregor was practically salivating with glee. And behind them, a couple of locals were staring agog, not even attempting to disguise their interest.
Oh, dear.
She looked once more pleadingly, helplessly at Daniel, whose own gaze travelled from George, to her, and back again.
“Sir, you will explain what you are doing with the lady.”
Sarah was really rather impressed with Elizabeth’s husband. George was a quiet, gentle man who never raised his voice and was rarely anything other than jovial. He was also significantly smaller and slighter than Daniel.
It was good of him to act on her behalf, even if his voice quivered ever so slightly as he did so.
She opened her mouth to introduce the two gentlemen and explain – well, something at least.
But before she got the chance, Daniel spoke.
“Your grace,” he said quietly, but the edge of steel in his voice was frankly terrifying.
Sarah had never been afraid of him. And she wasn’t now. He’d never hurt her or any woman, she knew.
But she wouldn’t want to be George right now. And that wasn’t fair. George had done nothing to earn Daniel’s anger.
“I beg your pardon?” George blustered.
“I am a duke,” Daniel said imperiously. “And you will address me as your grace, or not at all.”
Sarah gaped now in confusion.
She’d never known him to be proud. If anything, he seemed to find his title and the grovelling sycophancy that came with it jarring. Yet here he was, humiliating George with it.
George’s mouth opened and closed a few times, not unlike a goldfish. But to his credit, he rallied from the set down reasonably well.
“Your grace, then,” he said derisively. “You have no business chasing Sarah around and – and accosting her in the night.”
Daniel’s face seemed to grow angrier still.
But rather than argue any further, he sighed and muttered an oath under his breath.
He looked at her again, and his expression was so bleak that the breath caught in Sarah’s throat.
“No,” he agreed tonelessly. “I don’t suppose she is any business of mine. Not anymore.”
He turned to face her fully, ignoring George and everyone else rather rudely.
“My apologies to you, Sarah, for my rash behaviour.”
There was an audible gasp at his free use of her name, and Sarah’s toes curled in embarrassment. God only knew what the village gossips would make of that.
His eyes flicked to a frowning George and back to her.
“At least now I have an explanation.”
It was Sarah’s turn to frown in confusion. An explanation?
Without another word, and without acknowledging their audience at all, Daniel turned and moved swiftly away. He didn’t enter the Rooms again, rather he went around back, presumably to find his carriage.
He left in his wake a deafening silence.
After an age, Elizabeth stepped forward and took Sarah’s arm in her own.
“So, that’s the new resident of Landscastle. Handsome, isn’t he?” she quipped loudly.
It had the desired effect.
Mrs. McGregor and the others began chattering excitedly about the duke, listing his attributes without bias, apparently willing to forget his rudeness and apparent conceit.
“Come, Sarah,” Elizabeth said softly as they walked slowly behind the still twittering crowd.
George flanked Sarah’s other side, still glowering unhappily.
“Thank you, George, for your intervention. But I was in no danger. Daniel – that is to say, his grace, did not act with any impropriety.”
She chose not to share the details of her earth-shattering kiss with the duke.
“I am glad to hear it, my dear.” George smiled, relief evident in his tone. “He’s a lot bigger up close than I had thought.”
Sarah laughed in spite of herself at the look of terror on George’s face. Daniel had scared the poor man witless.
“I’m going to go ahead and make sure Mrs. McGregor and her cronies aren’t doing your reputation any damage,” he said wryly.
Being a baron meant George had a certain amount of pull in their small society. Enough to silence rumours and gossip, thankfully. Or limit them at least.
The ladies were silent as George dashed away, leaving them to walk back in alone.
“Well,” Elizabeth said airily, “I look forward to hearing what all that was about.”
Sarah swallowed hard.
While she had confided in her cousin about what had brought her scurrying to Scotland, she’d left out any information about Daniel. It had been too painful to share.
Now, however, she had very little choice.
“It wasn’t about anything.” She tried to match Elizabeth’s nonchalant tone. And failed miserably. “I knew him in London, that’s all.”
Elizabeth laughed.
“That’s all?” she asked. “My dear, he was ready to beat my poor husband to a pulp.”
“Hardly,” Sarah scoffed. “He was just –“
“He was just furious,” Elizabeth interrupted, sounding inordinately pleased about it. “Because he was jealous.”
“He wasn’t jealous,” Sarah argued. “Besides, George is your husband,” she felt the need to point out.
“You know that, and I know that. But your duke doesn’t know that,” Elizabeth exclaimed delightedly.
“He’s not my duke,” Sarah said, the words more painful than they should be.