The Soul of a Storme

by SOOKOO, SANDRA

  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth from the remembrance. “Bastard. Will you always act as my moral compass then?”

  “Until there’s a more interesting development.” The valet clapped Drew on the shoulder. “Have a lovely evening. Talk around the servants’ hall is that my lady’s gown is quite stunning.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind and will give compliments as needed.” Apparently, during their week apart when he couldn’t climb out of the dark hole he’d been thrust into, Sarah had wasted no time in having a new wardrobe ordered. From what he’d seen of it thus far, she was already making herself into an elegant countess.

  And he couldn’t be prouder at her initiative.

  Then he exited his suite and strode down the corridor to Sarah’s. As he lifted a hand to knock, nerves assailed him, different than the crushing worry he usually experienced. This was the first time they would appear in public at a society event as a married couple.

  Am I ready for this? Am I strong enough?

  Before he could rap on the door, the panel swung inward. Sarah’s eyes lit when she saw him. “I had thought to come for you, but here you are.”

  “Yes, I’m here.” God, he sounded like a bacon-brained idiot. And for good reason.

  For the first time he was struck dumb and not from crippling anxiety or other emotions as he swept his gaze up and down her person. “Bloody hell, Sarah, you’re beautiful tonight.”

  How the devil had he ever considered her plain?

  The gold silk gown she’d chosen shimmered with a sheer white overskirt of some sort shot with gold thread and clear glass beads. The bodice was low enough to show the tops of her creamy breasts, and it took every bit of effort he had not to ogle that portion of her anatomy. Her glorious hair, upswept into a topknot, allowed a few long curls to tumble from the crown to bounce about her shoulders like coils of spun gold. No, he couldn’t stop staring, and as he finally met her gaze that danced with amusement behind her spectacles, he blew out a breath.

  His chest tightened, but not from anxiety. He couldn’t believe she was his. At least a little bit. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You already said that.” A tinkling laugh escaped her, and he stared all the more.

  “Right.” He stood there gawking like a green boy just out of university. It had been a long time since he’d been knocked on his proverbial arse merely by seeing a woman. Say something intelligent, you nodcock!

  A faint stain of pink sneaked into her cheeks. “I’m glad you like the dress. It’s one I had ordered and only arrived this morning.” She returned to her sitting room. “Let me find my gloves and wrap.”

  Her happy chattering snapped him from the spell he’d fallen into. “The dress is lovely, of course, but it’s truly you who has made the impression tonight.” Drew followed her inside. “On that note, I have a gift for you.” Belatedly, he remembered the leather case he held.

  “Another one?” A finely feathered eyebrow lifted in question. “You’ve given me so much already. This suite, all the clothes, the engagement ring—”

  “Not gifts,” he rushed to assure her. “Things that befit your station as my wife. Things I wanted you to have—you should have had all along. Well, except the ring. That’s a gift, but it definitely belongs to you. My grandmother would have liked your spirit.”

  Her serene smile sent awareness sailing over his skin. “I hope you’ll tell me about her someday.”

  “I will.” He should have done so already, but now there was no time. “Perhaps tomorrow over dinner or on our customary walk? I don’t have a preference…”

  “Are you babbling, Lord Hadleigh?” She continued to smile as she donned the white elbow-length gloves. “I’ve never seen you at sixes and sevens before.”

  A week ago, her use of the title, even in that teasing tone, would have sent him into the boughs. Now, it only brought him back to the task at hand. “I suppose I am.” His grin felt decidedly lopsided. After tucking his gloves inside his jacket, he opened the worn leather box he’d retrieved from his safe not two hours prior. Emeralds glittered in the candlelight while the smaller diamonds winked like dew in the sun. “These pieces are also part of my grandmother’s bridal jewelry. The ring came from this set.” Drew forced a swallow to encourage moisture into his suddenly dry throat. “I should have given them to you on our wedding night.”

  Sarah peered into the box and gasped. Her spectacles slid down her nose. “Merciful heavens. They’re beautiful.” The awe in her whispered voice held him captive.

  Round emeralds encircled with tiny diamonds and set in gold made up the necklace, each stone slightly larger in size until the middle stone, which stood at nearly six carats. The stones in the bracelets were the same size as the one in her ring.

  She glanced at him and pushed her spectacles into place. “It’s too much.”

  “I suspect it’s not enough,” he forced out in a barely there voice. “What you’ve given me, done for me… It can never be repaid.”

  “I don’t want payment.” Her eyes were limpid and so warmly inviting he wanted to lose himself in those brown depths.

  “Think what you will about these, for it’s a shame to leave that elegant neck unadorned this evening.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t want to wear the locket, for it wasn’t suited to the occasion.”

  “Shh.” He plucked the pieces from the velvet-lined box, dropped the case on a table, then moved behind her. When he slipped the heavy necklace around the slender column of her neck and fastened the catch, his fingers shook. This was much more than giving her a piece of jewelry. Tonight, he’d unbent enough to extend trust to her, put a piece of his heart into her more than capable hands and hope she wouldn’t hurt it. “Gorgeous.” He didn’t know if he meant her or the necklace. Letting his touch linger upon her warm skin a second longer than needed, he inhaled her clover and violet scent. As he came around to look at the effect, Sarah touched a finger to the central stone.

  “Andrew?” She peered at him with vulnerable confusion on her face.

  “It suits you.” He took her free hand and fastened the bracelet about her wrist. “You should always wear emeralds.” They were a brilliant contrast to her ivory skin and brought out the golden flecks in her irises. Holding her gaze, he brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back. It trembled while he did so. Was she as nervous as he?

  “We should go,” she whispered, but she didn’t move.

  Neither did he. “Yes.” She was so lovely with tears shimmering in her eyes behind those lenses and a trace of color in her cheeks that he wanted to kiss her, but fear held him back. He couldn’t do anything that might sacrifice the work they’d already put in. For if he kissed her now, he’d want more, and when that happened, would he lose control over his other emotions if he were distracted? Not having answers, he shoved the thoughts away. “We should. I merely wished to see the effect of the jewelry on you.”

  “They’re the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever worn.” Sarah lifted onto her toes and bussed his cheek. “Let me grab my wrap…”

  Twenty minutes later when their carriage trip began, familiar anxiety tightened Drew’s chest. If he lost his temper tonight, word would filter to London. His name and Sarah’s would be bandied about in whispers. What would happen then?

  “Don’t worry so.” Sarah left her bench to sit beside him. She took his hand. “It will go smoothly.” The touch warmed him through and brought a measure of calm. “Don’t dwell of what might go wrong. Only put faith in your strengths and what you contribute to the area.” She squeezed his fingers. “For as long as you need me, I’ll stand beside you.”

  Does that mean in a forever kind of way? Did he want that?

  Out loud, he said, “I appreciate that.” More and more he was coming to rely on her. Merely having Sarah near, being able to see her, hear her voice helped alleviate the need to overthink every little problem.

  The dim interior of the carriage hid her expressi
on, but he imagined she smiled when she looked at him. “I must admit, I’m not keen on seeing my great uncle again, but we do what we must at times to keep the surrounding neighbors happy. Besides, goodwill never goes to waste.”

  Teach me how to be gracious after all that has happened to me.

  Drew didn’t voice the thought. Instead, he nodded and held onto her hand. “God willing, the evening will go quickly.”

  *

  An hour later saw him visiting throughout the drawing room, behaving with civility, and even letting himself laugh at a few jokes some of the men told. Every minute of being in the public eye was a challenge and he constantly fought against falling into the old habit of letting anxiety take control, but Sarah didn’t leave his side. Her presence made all the difference. She was genial and demure, even in the face of subtle comments regarding her sudden elevation of position from a few of the more catty ladies.

  He happened to witness one such conversation between Sarah, her great aunt, and a squire’s wife as he listened with half an ear to her great uncle extoll the virtues of different farming techniques.

  “How lucky you are to find yourself a countess,” the tall, thin woman with a horse face said as she sipped from a cup of punch. “There were many other women, younger ladies with more to recommend them, who the earl could have chosen. Why, my own daughter would truly cherish such a boon.”

  Sarah caught his eye. He cocked an eyebrow. Would she rise to the challenge? Then she snapped her attention back to the squire’s wife. “I’m sure she would, but in Hadleigh’s case, I believe he made the right choice.”

  Her aunt sniffed. “You’ve only been his countess for two weeks. As of yet, I haven’t heard of you visiting, nor have you done any charity work. Inexperience might become a detriment to his career.”

  “Whether you believe it or not, my time has been spoken for with other matters,” Sarah responded with a faint hint of annoyance in her voice. “The position of countess isn’t something one can master in a fortnight.”

  Both women exchanged glances, then the squire’s wife lowered her voice. “What of children, my lady? He’ll want an heir, I’m sure, but I rather doubt someone so… well, someone your age might have difficulties—”

  “That is quite my own business, isn’t it?” Sarah interrupted with slightly reddened cheeks.

  Drew quelled the urge to chuckle. He excused himself and then crossed the floor to where Sarah stood. “I couldn’t help overhearing, but I couldn’t have a better countess than Sarah. She’s been an immense help to me already, and in time, I don’t doubt she’ll make a rather permanent stamp on society.”

  The squire’s wife narrowed her beady eyes. “Well, if you are happy then we don’t have room to complain.”

  Was he happy? In this moment, he was. “Thank you. I’ve found a woman with life experience is vastly more valuable than an untried debutante who’d probably be frightened of her own shadow, let alone the duties set before a countess.”

  Mottled color covered the woman’s chest. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Drew took Sarah’s hand and put it on his sleeve as he guided her across the room. “I adore it when your dander is up,” he whispered into her ear.

  She bit her bottom lip when a smile formed. “Do hush. People can hear you.”

  Watching her, witnessing how she reacted and responded to people, his own confidence grew, and with each new person he talked with, he was certain that attending to the responsibilities of the earl might not end as traumatically as he’d first thought.

  Once the furniture had been pushed to the sides of the large room and the rugs rolled up, dancing began, and that hard-won confidence slipped. One of the guests played a pianoforte while another had procured a violin. The hold on his control wavered, for he was obliged to dance with various local women and their daughters. And when Sarah partnered other men, he discovered a new emotion he never encountered before—jealousy.

  Under no circumstances did he like his wife being with other men. Regardless of whether the reels and country dances were purely for entertainment and exercise, no one had the right to touch her except him. As he struggled with a tight chest and piercing jealousy, she finally drifted back to his side, slightly breathless, with high color in her cheeks.

  “Oh, these people and their false goodwill!” The words, couched in an urgent whisper, surprised him. That color wasn’t from exertion, it was from anger. “They simply can’t understand how an insignificant woman like me landed an earl. And because they don’t believe me, they made their husbands or brothers question me during dancing.” She shook her head. “The unmitigated gall of it! As if I’d give a completely different set of answers.”

  “Ah.” He grinned. The spirited woman he knew was back, and he adored her more than the well-mannered, meek woman she’d attempted to portray the whole evening. “Sour milk, perhaps? Shall we further twist the knife then?”

  “How?” When she frowned, her spectacles slipped down her nose.

  “The impromptu musicians are preparing to perform a waltz,” he said as he gently set her eyewear into their proper place. “Shall we indulge and set their tongues wagging even more?”

  “Truly? I haven’t waltzed for years though.” A trace of insecurity clouded her eyes.

  “It’s something one never forgets.” As a handful of couples assumed places on the cleared floor, Drew swept her into an empty spot. “Waltzing is something one feels as well as experiences. Follow my lead and you’ll set jealousy burning in these unhappy women’s hearts.” With a wink, he took her into his arms, and when the first notes played, he set them into motion.

  The candlelight twinkled off the emeralds around her neck. In the soft illumination, Sarah was ethereal, a vision in gold, a veritable angel fallen from the heavens and given into his care.

  Where the devil had those thoughts come from?

  She was merely the same woman he’d known for three weeks with the tart mouth and the ready smile, and the one person in this world who could keep him from falling into the pit of darkness that always lurked.

  Yet, on this night, she had quietly become… more.

  With each turn they took in the room, with every step, he pulled her incrementally closer to him. His thighs glanced along hers; his chest brushed her breasts, and he imagined a different sort of dancing with her, only in a bed sans clothing. Halfway through the waltz, a trill of laughter escaped her that was so clear and genuine, he stared in astonishment. The warmth of her in his arms, the softness of her skin that he fantasized about touching, the inviting rosy lips he was desperate to taste again all worked in tandem to weave a spell about them until only they two existed in the room.

  The woman he’d taken to wife was nothing short of amazing. When he smiled and held her gaze, she did the same, and in that moment, something was exchanged between them, different than anything he’d experienced before. No longer did he want to tame her, take away the very spirit that made her a force. Oh, no. He wished to kindle that fire, build it into an inferno for the mere awe of watching her ride the wave without losing herself, for then she could perhaps teach him how to survive his own storms.

  “If you continue to look at me like that, you’ll embarrass yourself,” she whispered with twinkling eyes.

  “How so?” Ah, but he knew.

  “As if you’d like to devour me right here in this room.”

  Drew quelled the groan that rose in his throat, but that didn’t stop the sudden tightening of his shaft. God, he wanted her. That had never changed. “I won’t deny your claim. However, I will temper my response.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he missed a step. Though it took seconds to correct his posture, the spell broke. A teasing light entered her eyes, and when she grinned, he felt it all the way to his toes. “Naughty boy to think such things in my great uncle’s house.”

  “I’m helpless against your beauty. What would you have me do?” Was he… flirting with his wife?
>
  She snickered. “The music has ended, so perhaps we could refrain from continuing the waltz?”

  Heat crept up the back of his neck. “I beg your pardon.” He brought them to a halt, and when she pulled away, he mourned the loss of her touch. “Let me bring you a glass of punch.”

  “I’d like that.” Those brown depths with the golden flecks beckoned him closer, but he didn’t dare to lead her from the room to seek out a shadowy corner. Not here, not now, but perhaps when they arrived home…

  Two hours later, while tucked into the carriage with the dark night pressing around them, he leaned back against the squabbed bench. “I thought that went rather well, all things considered.”

  “You were marvelous, and I appreciate your brilliant work in keeping your anger in check.” Sarah nestled against his side with her legs tucked on the bench. She rested her head on his chest. “I’m proud of you.”

  His chest warmed from her praise as well as her proximity. “I’m learning.” Thanks to her help. “If you’re willing, we could…” The words trailed away when he realized she’d fallen asleep. The light arcs of her lashes against her cheeks and her even breathing testified to that observation. Drew smiled into the darkness and wrapped an arm about her, holding her steady when the carriage bumped along a rough patch in the road.

  In some ways, this sort of intimacy was greater than carnal affection, and he was content to wait, for Sarah was worth it. He would do nothing to rush his fences or frighten her away.

  As shock roiled through his body, he acknowledged a truth: he was coming to care for his wife. What the devil do I do now?

  In many ways, it was more terrifying than letting anxiety have at him, for the stakes were suddenly infinitely higher.

  Chapter Fifteen

  July 11, 1817

  Rain drummed softly against the window glass as Sarah hummed a few stanzas from the waltz she’d shared with her husband the night before. Oh, but that had been a glorious evening! With her head in the clouds, she pulled her flute from its case and then went to stand by one of the drawing room windows. It was where she set up the wooden stand that held her precious sheet music—one of the last gifts her father had given her.