“Course I have, I’m fourteen.”
He needed to confirm his suspicions. “What was her name?”
“Nancy.”
Sarah would have been quite proud of him if she were there. “You must’ve loved her very much.”
“I still do. She’s coming back to me, you know.”
And there it was. “She was coming back to Ackworth, you mean.”
“She promised she would.”
“And she wouldn’t find you here at St. George, would she?”
The lad shook his head.
“And that’s why you felt the need to bury your fist in my gut?”
Ethan brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and nodded.
Colin cleared his throat and clasped his hands together, quite proud of himself. “I have some news for you then. Your Nancy is working for my friend. She’s a very nice lady, although at times she’s quite stubborn.”
“Yes, Nancy can be as stubborn as a mule when she chooses.”
Colin chose not to correct the boy and nodded as if he understood perfectly. Which, of course, he did.
For the first time, the lad smiled. “Could I see her?”
“It can be arranged. And there’ll be no more hitting?”
“No.” The boy stared first at his shoes, and then looked up. “Unless you earn it.”
“Of course.” Colin slid off the desk. “Let’s go and find Miss Pritchard.” He placed a tentative hand on the boy’s shoulder.
They found the woman cooling her heels in the hallway outside, and she hurried to grab Ethan once more. “You do realize you’ll be punished, young man. The earl has been more than generous with all of us, and you should have better manners.”
Colin interrupted. “I’ve already taken care of the lad’s punishment.” He scowled at Ethan in a manner that Giles used when he was most displeased. “He’ll not be punching anyone anymore.”
“Is that right?” Miss Pritchard glared at the boy, raising one threatening eyebrow.
Ethan nodded sheepishly, quite effective really.
“Very well. Off with you, then. Don’t forget to bring in the wood.”
“Yes, miss.”
They watched as the boy ran off, and Colin was rather pleased at the spring in the lad’s step. His work for today was done; it was time to go home. He walked outside, Miss Pritchard’s long strides matching his own. “Did Mr. Twizzlerot inform you of the goings-on at Ackworth?”
She pulled a long face. “Yes. Quite horrible. The indecency of someone to treat those poor babies in such a heartless manner.”
“I was going to speak to the headmaster at Ackworth myself. I don’t approve of such dealings.” The headmaster would soon learn the extent of Colin’s disapproval. “Did you know the man?”
The woman shook her head. “No. Mr. Twizzlerot had visited there several months ago, but all he mentioned was how prosperous Ackworth was, and how he wished he could do as much good here for the children at St. George.”
“Then you know nothing about the child-labor trade? No one’s approached you? Mr. Twizzlerot’s said nothing?”
“No, I fear we have a quiet life here. We’re far removed from the doings of the city.” She looked around the countryside with fond eyes. “You have done wonderful things with your contributions. When Mr. Wyndham visited here, I don’t mind confessing that I was afraid for us all. I hope you will continue your patronage after your marriage.”
Colin stared at the building, noting that it needed a new coat of paint. “Of course. I don’t anticipate any changes at all.”
Miss Pritchard shielded her hand from the glare of the afternoon sun. “Thank you, my lord. So we’ll be expecting the good news soon?”
Colin stared at the woman. “Good news?”
“Yes. Of your engagement.”
“Oh, I see.” He twisted his hat in his hands. “Within a few weeks, I’m sure.” He had delayed as long as he could. May was approaching. War was approaching. He no longer dreaded the thought of marrying Miss Lambert. He could think of her without feeling the tension in his body, without the lust burning him within. All was well. Yet deep inside him, part of him yearned for just a bit more.
“Thank you for your kindness.” He placed his hat on his head, ready to leave. “You’ll tell Mr. Twizzlerot I was here?”
“Yes, yes, my lord.”
He mounted his horse and rode off, turning one last time to look at what his generosity had done. Miss Pritchard stood at the garden gate, waving happily, waiting until he disappeared. It seemed he was capable of some good after all. As long as he was far away from Sarah, the dragon was dead.
Chapter Fourteen
Sarah watched, exceedingly fascinated by the energy that permeated the ballroom. Mothers and chaperones threw sharp gazes at the bored young bucks that stood immune to the matrimonial nets being cast in their direction. Young ladies, festooned in varying hues of white and silver, used their skittish fans and shy glances as instruments in their quest for true love. An aura of desperation surrounded the entire display, and nowhere did the desperation emanate stronger than from Sarah. She only hoped her anxiety was invisible to those who might be watching with interest, namely the earl.
“Don’t you think you should go over and speak to him?” Catherine whispered behind her fan.
“No. We must maintain an appearance of carelessness,” Sarah whispered back.
“Miss Lambert, perhaps you should join your mother?” Juliette interjected, her normally placid face lined with disapproval, her low opinion of Sarah’s conduct completely apparent.
“Leave her be, Juliette.” Sarah leapt to Catherine’s defense, predominately because shehad considered approaching the earl, but her appraisal of the situation indicated that such a bold move was premature. However, the earl, coward that he was, had yet to breach the wall, and Sarah, never of a patient sort, was growing exceedingly tired of the waiting.
Mr. Lawson approached their dour trio, nervously smiling at Catherine and clearing his throat. “Miss Lambert, would you care to dance this evening?”
Catherine blushed and stammered her agreement, and the two departed for the dance floor.
“You should not be here.” Juliette’s voice was low and stern.
“I’m merely assisting a friend.”
“You’re making a fool of yourself. No man is worth such humiliation. They are talking about you, do you doubt it?” Juliette glanced about the room, obviously correct in her assessment. There were the whispers and the disapproving stares that Sarah had known for so long.
Sarah’s greatly diminished supply of confidence decreased a bit more, but she refused to let it show. “Do you think I care? When Haverwood’s attention shifts in my direction, the price I paid will not matter in the least.”
“Bah! The man’s intentions are questionable and highly suspect. He has shown no interest, done nothing to encourage you, and has not even looked at you this evening.”
Harsh words, harsher still for the truth they contained. Sarah turned away, the last vestiges of her imaginary world slipping from her grasp. He had done nothing. He had kissed her, one passionate embrace. Always careful to never show his emotions when they were in public. Only when they were away from the prying eyes of the ton had he even deigned to treat her with little more than civility. Oh, he admitted he wanted her, perhaps he pitied her; yet never had he given her any reason to believe that he loved her, that he could ever love her. With the faith of a child, she had believed otherwise, turning herself into a moon-bitten ninny, letting all of the ton watch her debacle for their own amusement. He had tried to tell her, she had stubbornly refused to listen, believing that she was right, that she could win. Yet how far was she willing to go before she walked away?
Her embarrassment, her moment of defeat would not be additional fodder for the morning papers. There would be no public spectacle tonight. Instead, she smiled tightly. “You’re right, Juliette. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air. T
hen we will leave.”
Outside was solitary, the air crisp, the moon high and bright in the sky. She hugged her arms to herself and listened to the strains of music and the sound of laughter that came within. Why had she ever thought she could belong? She found a secluded corner and sat on the stone bench, looking up at the moon and the stars and wondering why they had abandoned her. She remembered the proud, strong woman she had once been, and mourned her loss. So many times she had watched men reduced to nothingness by the lure of the gaming table and the smell of victory, and she had been so arrogant and smug as she watched their fall. So sure she would never succumb to such weakness. And this night, here she was, her pride gone missing, no strength left within her. She would grasp at whatever crumbs he threw her way. Was this really love? It didn’t seem strong or honorable or kind, more something that was shameful and debilitating. It was a wicked potion that had robbed her of everything she valued in herself. She sighed.
The perfume of the flowers lay heavy in the air. There would be no flowers for her. The earl had not sent her flowers. She laughed and wiped her tears. What a foolish girl she had been. There was no future between them; there never would be, at least not as she had imagined. He wanted her, but she didn’t know if that was enough. She had sworn she would never sell herself to a man, and yet here she sat, considering that very fate. There were no more cards for her to play, no more trumps she could pull from her sleeve.
It was over. She gave a choked laughed, even as the humiliation washed over her. It had never been.
A shadow fell across her. “Are you all right?”
She swallowed. He was here. No doubt to protect her once more. Silly man, the one she most needed protection from was him. “Of course, right as a line. Fit as a fiddle.” She looked away, hoping he would overlook the wet trails on her cheeks.
“You’re looking exceptionally well this evening.”
It was such a bald-faced lie, she smiled. “Exceptionally well for a shameless woman who is the joke of society? Exceptionally well for a foolish ninny who has still to learn her lesson? Who even now wants things she can’t have? Is that what you meant to say, my lord?”
“No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He sat down next to her, his body warm and inviting.
She fisted her hands in her skirts, fighting not to touch him. “Forgive me, if I have misunderstood much. You’ve been quite an unremitting man recently.”
He met her eyes evenly. “Yes. I gave you fair warning.”
He could sit there, so close to her, and all the while, pretend. What was real to him, what was pretend? Did he care or was it a game? Her temper flared. “And what did you hope I would do? Watch idly by while you commandeer a path that is for no one’s benefit. Not even yours. Or did you want to dangle yourself in front of me, to see what sort of dance I would perform?”
“I have never misled you.”
“No, you’ve been very careful, haven’t you. Perhaps if you were a rake or a man unworthy of my trust, I would reconsider. But you’re not. Are you? Is this a prank or a joke? Am I an object of your pity?” The words twisted into sobs, and to her horror she began to cry in earnest, burying her face in her hands.
“Sarah, stop.”
Sarah, stop.Oh, how she wanted to stop. Wanted to halt this numbing blackness within her. Wanted to ease the pain within her. But she couldn’t. Still she went further, even while her mind screamed to cease. “Why should I? There are so few things I want anymore. Society has taken my reputation, and you’ve taken my dignity. I used to be strong, my lord. Implacable. My father called me the unsinkable Sarah. Look at what I’ve become. My father would never forgive me.” She raised her head, glaring at him, hating herself. “Are you proud of what you’ve done, my lord?”
He stood, tall, strong, and so far away. “You’ve done this to yourself. Let go. You’re risking far more with me than you know.”
Even now he was still trying to protect her. “My virtue? Is that your meaning?” She tried to sound uncaring, but she heard the way her voice caught, still hoping.
He bent before her, his tone pleading. “Dear God, Sarah. No more. I’m not that strong.”
She leaned forward, wanting to hurt him, as he had hurt her. His eyes flared with desire and she saw his need. She licked her lips, teasing and taunting. “Oh? The DragonSlayer has a weakness? Am I your weakness, is that it? It seems only fitting, as you are mine.”
“No.” The word was nothing more than a whisper between them.
She raised her hand. “If I were to touch you, would you break, my lord?”
Quickly, he stood. “No.”
His hands were fisted at his side, his body tense and stiff. Still he fought her; a thrill of victory coursed inside her. “You’re a liar. Shall I prove it?”
“Go inside now.”
She rose from the bench and stood before him. “Why should I? I have one more card, my lord.”
“Goddamn, Sarah, this is not a game.”
“No, it is much more, isn’t it?” She picked up his hand, tracing the lines, the hard calluses. “You have such gentle hands. Yet they are so strong. When you touched me, I’d never known such pleasure existed.” She looked at him curiously. “Will you touch Catherine that way?”
“No!” The single word echoed in the night.
“You feel it, too, don’t you? This chain that has bound us together and is pulling me under. I’ve lost already and I know that, but I don’t care anymore.”
“My God, how am I supposed to walk away from you?”
There was such despair in his voice that her heart ached for him; yet she would not give up. “Why do you even try?”
His dark eyes held her own. “Sarah, you will come to hate me, and fear me . . .”
She would never fear him; he was her protector. “I could hate you no more than I hate you now.”
“I can’t touch you. I can’t marry you.”
Deep in her heart, she had known such words were coming. All the idle dreams and scraps of reverie were just that. Dreams. A man of his position would never marry her. She was a Banks, never anything more.
He gripped her fingers tightly, and she stared at their joined hands, unwilling to sever the bond between them. Perhaps in time, after years had passed and she had been relegated to complete disgrace, she would hate him more. Bitterness would fester and the wounds would lay untreated. If she were wise, she would run from him and prevent such pain. But Sarah had never been wise, and that was her fatal flaw. Instead, she lowered her head to his hand, laid her lips gently against the warm skin. “Then I beg you, take me as your mistress, for I hold your touch above my honor.”
Chapter Fifteen
Colin lost all bits of control. He had no more strength to fight her. He had no more will. His lips crushed hers, and he kissed her as if there would be no more days. He wanted her and nothing else mattered. Tonight he was going to take. He pressed her back against the tree, praying she would be frightened, praying she would slap his face, anything to stop him. Far from stopping him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing closer. Her lips parted, welcoming him, inviting him to taste her.
And he did. He ravaged her mouth with no restraint at all, no finesse, no gentleness. He kissed her with the tongue of a dragon, held her in the brutal grasp of a lindorm. His hands roamed freely, touching the silk of her shoulder, finding the curve of her back, the softness of her breast. He pressed her back further, needing more, his body poised and ready. He took her skirts in his hand, and lifted. And Sarah, poor Sarah. He heard her whimper, but for Colin, it was far too late.
Yet there was another noise. From behind them. The laugh of a hyena. Colin lifted his head, breathing heavily, trying to focus on the fool who had interrupted.
“Now, isn’t this cozy?” The slurred voice came from a jackal who wore his cravat tied up to his ears. Bloody coxcomb.
Colin took a step toward the sot. The man was almost too drunk to stand, certainly not capable of any real h
arm. Colin took a deep breath, fighting for control.
The man lurched forward, stabbing a hand through the air. “No need to stop on my account. If I had a woman as accommodating as your Miss Banks, I’d certainly rather be out here sampling her wares.”
The slap of anger that fired his blood stunned him. “You’ll pay for that.” Colin took a step forward and felt an insistent tug on his coat.
“Looking for satisfaction, are you?” The man tossed a glove on the ground.
“Dueling with pistols?” Colin laughed. He moved quickly, backing the man against a tree, and pulling out his knife from his coat. “Not my style, friend.”
“Colin!”
Sarah. Dear God. He wanted to drop his knife, shove the man into the bright house with all the others, and forget all but the feel of her body pressed against his own.
“All nice and warm, isn’t she? Bet it doesn’t take long to quench your needs with that one. I don’t blame you one bit.”
It began again. Colin shuddered, the fury pounding in his mind. He braced his forearm across the man’s neck. “I don’t think you’re going to live to find out.”
“Colin!” Sarah ran to his side.
He turned, his eyes narrowed, focusing. She shouldn’t be here. “Go inside.”
“No, this is my fault.”
The dragon squirmed under his arm. “Sarah, let me take care of this.”
“You’re going to kill him.”
Her look, her eyes staring at him with something akin to horror, slit through his heart. “No. You must believe me. Please.”
“Swear.”
He could not meet her gaze any longer. She had no more faith than he did. “I swear on my life. Please. Go inside.” He was pleading with her now.
With one long, thoughtful look, she turned her back and walked away, leaving him alone with the dragon.
He watched her go, before shifting his attention to the skinny man who had caused them such pain. He grabbed him by the Horse Collar with more force than necessary, the starched linen giving way under his hand. The man moaned, echoing the ache that Colin felt. He slammed the man’s head against the tree and then let the insensible man crumple to the ground.
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