Dreaming of You (27 page)

Sara couldn’t resist probing further. “What do you count among your personal holdings?”

Derek had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Four estates…a terrace in London…a chateau in the Loire Valley—”

“A chateau? I thought you didn’t like France!”

“It came with excellent vineyards,” he said defensively, and resumed his list. “A castle at Bath—”

“A castle?” she repeated in bemusement.

He made a gesture as if it were nothing. “It’s in ruins. But there are wooded hills with deer, and streams full of fish—”

“I’m sure it’s very picturesque,” Sara said in a strangled voice. “You needn’t go on.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “Why do you look like that?”

Sara nearly choked on a mixture of laughter and dismay. “I’ve just begun to realize how wealthy you are. It’s rather frightening.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

There was a teasing lightness to his tone, but his eyes glinted oddly as he replied. “You’ve been compromised, sweet. It’s too late to change your mind.”

Sara shook her head and stood up from his lap. “I can live with being compromised. Where are my clothes?” She was only jesting, not reading the sudden tension in his face.

“You said you would stay with me no matter what.”

“At the time,” she said, wandering to the fireplace, “I didn’t know that a chateau and a castle would be part of the arrangement.” She shook her head in bemusement. “It’s almost too much to take in. I think I’d better go back to Greenwood Corners.” She didn’t know that he had followed her until he spun her to face him. His hand grasped her upper arms with bruising
force. Sara was alarmed as she looked up at his harsh face.

“What?” she gasped. “What in the world—”

“I won’t let you leave me.” His voice was even, but his large body was rigid, his hands hurtful.

She blinked in astonishment. “I don’t want to leave you. You must know that I was teasing you!” As his eyes bored into hers, she realized that she had discovered a vulnerable spot, like a thin patch on the surface of a frozen river. In a few careless words she had broken through to the dark depths he concealed so well. He was deadly quiet, still staring at her, while she tried to soothe him. “I won’t make a joke of it again. I was just surprised. You…you mustn’t hold my arms so tightly.”

His fingers loosened, and he began to breathe again, in rough surges. All the comfortable ease of the evening was gone. Abruptly they had become strangers. “Nothing would make me leave you,” Sara murmured. “You don’t trust me yet, do you?”

“I’ve known too many deceitful women.” Derek was bitterly surprised by his own actions. He’d just demonstrated beyond a doubt why they didn’t belong together. Trust was only one of many things he couldn’t give her.

“All I ask is that you try.” Sara leaned toward him, against the slight pressure he exerted to hold her back. She pressed her ear to his wildly beating heart. Faith, constancy, trust…He’d known little of such things. He would need time to learn them. “You’re far too worldly,” she whispered. “You don’t want to believe in anything you can’t see or touch. It’s not your fault. I know why you’ve had to be that way. But you must try to have faith in me.”

“I don’t know if I can change.”

“You’ve already changed.” She smiled as she thought of the way he’d been when they first met.

Derek was silent for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said with a touch of surprise.

She kissed his silk-covered chest and sighed. “Perhaps it’s odd, but I’m not afraid of being poor. It’s what I’ve always been used to. I am a little afraid of being rich, though. I can’t imagine myself living in a mansion.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I used to walk through the rookery, and instead of seeing thieves’ kitchens and beggars, I would imagine gold palaces and servants. Rooms full of candles, tables piled with food.”

“And you made it all come true.”

“I had some luck.”

“It wasn’t luck.” She held him more tightly. “It was you. You’re a remarkable man.”

He touched her as if he couldn’t stop himself. “I want you,” he muttered, although the fact was becoming obvious, with her body flattened against his. His palms skimmed the deep curves of her hips, waist, breasts. Roughly he tugged at the silk robe until it parted in the front. Firelight danced over her exposed skin, gilding the porcelain whiteness.

Sara made a hesitant move toward the bed, but he pulled her back to stand before him. He removed her robe, dropping it to the floor. His long fingers wrapped around her breasts, thumbs passing over her nipples in light circles. There was a new, wicked certainty in his touch, for he had already learned what aroused her. Pushing her down to the floor, he nudged her back into the silken pool of their robes. Sara stretched out at his bidding, and he lowered himself over her, blocking the
fire glow from the grate. She shivered at the erotic slide of his tongue as he licked the shadowed undercurve of her breast. His mouth wandered over her in open, wet kisses that sent ripples of sensation across her skin. In some places she felt his teeth close on her, eliciting a twitch of startled reaction.

Derek made a prison of his own body, his muscled legs tangling with hers, his weight caging her against the carpeted floor. She couldn’t hold back a quiet moan as he pressed himself intimately against her, stiffness and burning silken skin…he made a tantalizing motion, a rhythm that promised relief from the sweet torment. Sara lifted herself to him, eager for his possession. But he held back, his green eyes blazing with deviltry.

“Please,” she whispered.

He moved downward to kiss her navel, his tongue intruding in the tiny hollow. A few delicate swirls, and he blew softly against the damp circle. He fitted his hands around the deep curve of her waist, then shaped the roundness of her hips in his palms, kneading gently. The feathery brush of curls against his chin was a powerful enticement. He worked his mouth down in the inviting triangle, ignoring her sudden jolt of unwillingness. Hungrily he breathed in the scent of her, his nerves stimulated by the earthy sweetness.

Spurred into action, Sara struggled frantically to escape him. He wrapped his arms up around her thighs, mastering her, and his head dipped low into the space he had made for himself. He swept through the lush curls with short, wheedling touches of his tongue. Sara groaned a denial as he reached deeper into the soft cleft, searching for the intoxicating taste of her body.

His fingers wove gently through the patch of curls,
separating them. He found the delicate center of sensation and stroked with his tongue, teasing, insinuating deep in the softness. Steeped in pleasure and shame, Sara lay motionless.

The taste of her was maddeningly erotic. He covered the enticing female flesh with his mouth and tugged firmly. At the same time he slid his fingers inside the moist passage, stroking in counterpoint to the steady rhythm of his mouth. Sara cried out suddenly, pulled into a whirling upheaval, her senses overflowing.

As the last tremor subsided, Derek levered his body over hers and pushed himself inside her, gripping her hips in his large hands. He gave a pleasured groan and began to thrust in a sustained motion. Their bodies converged until there was no space left between them. Feeling the shudder of his climax resounding deep against her womb, Sara enfolded him in her arms. She rubbed her face against his gleaming black hair. “I do love you,” she whispered in his ear. “And I’ll never leave you.”

They passed through the center of Greenwood Corners at midmorning. Sara kept away from the windows, knowing the gossip it would cause for her to be seen in the magnificent private carriage. Strolling merchants and village women carrying large baskets on their arms stopped to watch the vehicle’s progress. Shopkeepers came outside to remark on the lacquered carriage, the pair of outriders, and the liveried footman in attendance. Such an equipage had rarely, if ever, been seen in Greenwood Corners. A few people followed the vehicle far enough to determine its direction and ran back to report that it was traveling toward the Fieldings’ cottage.

When they reached her parents’ home, Derek helped Sara from the private carriage. He spoke briefly with the footman before walking Sara along the path that led to the cottage door.

“I wish the night wasn’t over,” she said, holding his arm tightly.

“There’ll be other nights for us.”

“Not for a while.”

That earned her a piercing glance. “You’ll arrange the wedding as soon as possible. Accept Lily’s offer of help if necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” Sara smiled at his commanding tone. “It almost sounds as if you’re anxious to marry me.”

“It won’t be a moment too soon,” he muttered.

Sara was glad of his sudden fretfulness, knowing it meant that he was reluctant to be parted from her. She was half-afraid that she had dreamed the last two days. “If you don’t come back for me, I’ll find you in London,” she threatened. “Or I’ll send Papa—and he’ll bring you here at the end of his old musket.”

Derek grimaced. “I’m not certain any man in his right mind would choose me for his daughter.”

“Oh, Papa’s a wise, dear man. You’ll adore each other. Just make certain to speak loudly so he can hear you.” They stopped at the door, and Sara turned the handle to open it. “Mama?” she called.

Katie appeared in the doorway with a delighted exclamation, and made a move to embrace her daughter. “Sara, how was the ball? You must tell me everyth—” She stopped at once as she saw the man beside Sara, his dark, broad-shouldered form filling the doorway.

“Mama, this is Mr. Craven,” Sara said softly.

Taken aback, Katie stared at the two of them with round eyes. “Isaac,” she called, her voice higher-pitched
than usual. “Sara’s brought someone home with her. A man.”

“Has she? Well, let me have a look at him.”

Abruptly Derek found himself confronted by two small gray-haired people. Scrutinizing him closely, they welcomed him into the tidy, worn little cottage. There were sprays of dried flowers and herbs, painted pottery, and piles of books everywhere. He had to duck his head to avoid a low overhead beam as he crossed the threshold. As Sara introduced him to her father, they shook hands cordially. The old man’s face was engraved with lines of good humor and character, his blue eyes lit with a friendly twinkle.

“Papa,” Sara chattered, “you’ll remember I mentioned Mr. Craven before. We met during my research in London. He owns a social club.” She proceeded to bustle her mother toward the kitchen. “Mama, let’s make some tea while the men become acquainted.”

They went into the kitchen and closed the door. Dazed, Katie fumbled for the jar of tea while Sara began to pump water energetically at the sink. “You’ve taken my breath away,” Katie remarked, hunting for a spoon.

“Mr. Craven was at Raiford Park this weekend,” Sara said, her face mantled with the high color of excitement. “It’s a complicated story, but the long and the short of it is…I love him, and he proposed to me, and I said yes!”

Katie’s mouth dropped. She sat in a chair, fanning her hands over the center of her chest as if to calm her heart “Your Mr. Craven proposed,” she repeated numbly.

“He’s the most wonderful man in the world. You and Papa are going to love him as much as I do.”

“Sara…isn’t this terribly sudden? Think of all the years you’ve known Perry—”

“Mr. Craven makes me a thousand times happier than Perry ever could. Don’t look worried, Mama. Haven’t you always known me to be sensible?” She smiled confidently. “I’ve made the right choice. You’ll see.” As Katie began to ask something else, Sara motioned for her to be quiet, while portions of the men’s conversation filtered from the other room. Carefully Sara pressed her ear to the door.

“…you’re a little too late in asking, Mr. Craven. Sara already has a fiancé. Young Kingswood.”

Sara couldn’t stop herself from interrupting. She opened the door enough to stick her head through the space. “He’s not my fiancé anymore, Papa. Perry and I became unengaged before I left this weekend.”

Isaac looked perplexed. “You did? Why?”

“I’ll explain later.” She gave Derek an encouraging look and retreated behind the door.

Katie watched her daughter with wry amusement. “There’s no need to pop back and forth like a turtle in its shell. I have a feeling your Mr. Craven is quite capable of talking to Papa without any help from you.”

Sara rested her ear against the panels again. “Shhh.”

“…I can’t say I approve of my daughter marrying a gambler,” came Isaac’s voice.

“I don’t gamble, sir. I own a club where others gamble.”

“Splitting hairs, my boy. I don’t approve of the whole business. On the other hand…I don’t approve of men drinking too much, and I suppose I don’t hold it against our local tavern owner. Tell me more about this social club. You have fancy women working there, do you? Has Sara met any of these poor fallen creatures?”

“I can’t keep her away from them,” Derek said dryly.

“My Sara has a kind heart. Drawn to unfortunates. The city is a dangerous place for a girl like her.”

Sara opened the door again. “I’ve never come to any harm there, Papa!”

Derek spoke before Isaac could reply. “Is there any bread to go with the tea, Sara?”

“Yes,” she answered, slightly perplexed. “Would you like some toast?”

“Lots of it. Very thin slices.” Derek held up his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate.

She frowned at him, realizing he intended to keep her too busy to interrupt again. “Very well,” she said grudgingly, and went back into the kitchen.

Isaac regarded the man sitting across from him in a new way, a smile creasing his leathery face. “You’re patient with her,” he said approvingly. “I’m glad of that. She was always a wilful child. She has her own ideas about things.” Derek was tempted to make a sardonic remark, but he kept silent and watched the old man sitting there in his comfortable chair, gnarled hands resting on the knitted blanket over his knees. A fond look came over Isaac’s face, and he continued as if to himself, “She was a miracle for Katie and me, born to us long after the time for childbearing had passed. We thank God every day for giving her to us. I could never entrust her to someone who might cause her harm. Young Kingswood is a self-indulgent man…but at least he’s a gentle sort.” The blue eyes met Derek’s in a direct, guileless stare. “Mr. Craven, I’ve brought up my daughter to think for herself. If I were twenty years younger, I wouldn’t have allowed her such freedom. But her mother and I are elderly, and as nature takes its course, there will come a time when we won’t be
here to protect her. I thought it was best to teach Sara to trust her own judgment. If Sara wants to marry you, she will, whether I approve or not.”