It was then that she heard a gentle knock and Nicholas strode in.
He was fully clothed and looking as beautiful as ever, it took everything in her not to throw off her robe and jump on him. She was embarrassed at the thought.
He smiled knowingly as if he, too, was thinking the same thing. He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “And how did you sleep?”
“Gloriously, except there was this odd noise coming from your mouth. Could it have been snoring? I’m sure you are exhausted after so much work last night. Really, I should take it easy on you; after all, you are much older.” She winked and walked by him.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her body into his own, pressing his hot lips against hers. He moaned as his hand cupped her breast. “Little minx,” he said against her lips, and then her robe was off as if it hadn’t been on or secure in the first place. She giggled as he pushed her up against the wall and began kissing down her back and arms, molding his body to hers.
He groaned as she pulled his hair and then whispered against her skin yet again, “I don’t think we’re going anywhere today.”
She laughed. “What about the ball tonight?”
He looked like he was going to swear; instead he shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll be late.”
She laughed watching his clothing hit the floor. It wasn’t until late afternoon that they actually ate and were able to bathe and dress for the evening, and even that seemed to be a chore and quite distracting.
Finally, Sara was ready. Since she was married, she was able to wear darker more vibrant colors. It was so much better than prancing around in pastels and whites. She swished her dress a few more times before Nicholas entered the room.
He walked up from behind and hugged her. “Are you sure you want to go to the ball tonight?” he purred into her ear.
“It would be rude not to,” she answered half-heartedly.
“That dress shouldn’t be allowed.” He sighed twirling her around in front of him “I feel like I’m slowly being tortured. I can only see parts of you when I went to see all of you.”
Blushing she swatted him with her hand. “You really are a rogue aren’t you?” she teased.
He merely lifted his hands in defense as if to say, “I warned you.”
She gave him a pointed look before he finally rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’ll go but the minute I see another man touch part of you that isn’t to be touched, we’re leaving.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Really Nicholas, I can’t see that happening.”
“Then you obviously don’t see yourself clearly do you?” His tone was serious, sucking away the teasing that was once alive within the room. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You are beautiful. Just try not to smile at too many young gentleman. As you pointed out this morning, I am old and don’t like punching gentlemen in the face.”
She giggled and took his arm. “I promise.”
She would never say it to Nicholas or even admit it out loud, but she felt positively plain standing next to her husband. He was so devilishly handsome that it seemed unreal. His piercing blue eyes did nothing to set her nerves to ease. She smiled up at him as he led her to the waiting carriage.
Marriage to him would be perfect.
Chapter Twenty
Nicholas wanted to yell. He also didn’t want to scare his new wife, but if he would have had any idea that being with her would have made him feel like this, well he would have confessed undying affection for her days earlier. It was even harder being seated across one another in the carriage. His gaze and his thoughts were always on her. He smiled as he looked out the window.
Was it possible for someone to become more attractive the longer that person knew them? Her smile lit up the room and caused a burning within his heart that demanded he be released from his seat and into her arms. She was captivating and somehow she had chosen him, above all else. The only thing left would have been to confess the three little words that he knew she wanted to hear.
It was probably the reason she never said anything to him, although looking in her eyes he knew it was true, and frankly it was the only thing that had power enough to break his happy mood. He couldn’t love her, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it, he had nothing to give, and giving everything he had left meant he could be hurt or worse vulnerable. Women were not to be trusted; even though he knew Sara would die before she would hurt him, he also knew the men of the ton. One of these days, probably within the next year, she would tire of him and be upset over the fact that she gave so much of herself to such a rake. He would grant her annulment and lick his wounds in the English countryside.
Except Sara wasn’t having any of his plans, she was head over heels crazy in love with him. He wouldn’t consider himself a betting man, but he would bet on that. He would risk his entire fortune on it. It made him sick that this was as good as it was going to get for her. Sure he could show her physical love and affection, but to say it out loud was quite another thing. Somehow it finalized his feelings. It made him sick with fear.
“Are you well?” Sara asked, leaning over and patting his hand. He didn’t mind considering it gave him a shameless view of her bosom. He leaned back so she would lean further forward. She took the bait and leaned even further forward, then her eyes darted down, and she swatted him. “Nicholas Renwick! What am I going to do with you? How improper.”
“You’re my wife!”
She smirked. “Yes, that’s true, but if you do that in public I shall have to punish you.”
He held back laughter, trying hard to take her seriously rather than be thrilled with the idea of her giving him punishment. Finally a chuckle escaped his lips. He put his hand over his mouth to cover it, and she turned bright red.
“Not what I meant,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Oh, I know exactly what you meant.” He pulled her into his lap and kissed her with desire, need, and a fierceness he couldn’t hold back. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip playfully as he swept his tongue into her mouth and slipped his hands inside her cloak. He couldn’t get enough of her. The heat radiating from her body was enough to render him completely undone right there in the carriage. He sighed against her chest. “Let’s turn around, go home, have some wine…”
She looked down at his face. “Nicholas Renwick, I do believe you’re trying to seduce your wife again.”
“Is it working?” He cocked an eyebrow.
She looked away, feigning deep thought, like she had to think about it, and drove him completely mad. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Sure.”
“That’s your answer?”
Sara nodded her head.
“You’re a handful.” He shook his head.
“You didn’t mind last night.”
He looked at her and had no words. They had been stolen from his mouth. When had Sara turned into such a, a well he couldn’t really think of the correct word. She was quite literally every man’s perfect woman. Sweet and witty when she needed to be and behind closed doors a wanton temptress. Again, a prayer was offered up to heaven. Whatever he did to deserve her, he wanted to do it again.
“I didn’t mind many things last night,” he answered huskily into her neck.
The carriage came to a complete stop, making Nicholas want to curse. A curse word was on the tip of his tongue just as Sara let one out.
He looked at her and shook his head. “I’m a bad influence on you.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
He didn’t mind, and she didn’t seem to either. He helped her out of the carriage and escorted her up the stairs. It was Lady Delia’s annual ball, and people would be expecting them.
He turned toward Sara. “Are you ready for this?”
“If when you say ready you mean am I ready to go into a ball and enjoy a few waltzes with my husband then yes. If you mean am I ready for all the stares and questions and gawking about our scandalous tie to one another, then…no.”
He smiled, although guilt tugged at his heart. “At least you’re honest.”
She seemed to pale at his comment it gave him the impression she wasn’t being honest, yet everything about what she just said was exactly what he had been thinking. “What’s wrong, Sara?”
She nodded her head. “Fine. I just…thought of something, that’s all. Let’s go.”
He kissed her hand and led her in. Oddly enough, there was no group hush nor were that many people staring at them. He felt immediately at ease. It was possible, or more probable, that some new scandal arose, although he should have caught wind of it somehow. Nobody seemed to be staring at him at all; in fact, most of the people they passed were staring at Sara.
He didn’t blame them; she looked absolutely breathtaking in a deep crimson gown that flowed all the way to the floor. She looked like royalty, and sometimes he felt like nothing more than a footman on her arm.
He smiled at her but noticed her own return smile didn’t reach her eyes. Was she ill?
“Sara?” he whispered into her ear.
“Hmm?” she answered, not looking at him.
“Are you well?”
“Why do you keep asking me that?” she snapped.
“I uh,” he was again at a loss. Had he said something wrong or done something to offend her? Quite possibly she was upset over the attention.
“It’s nothing.” She waved him away making him feel like an irritating fly. “Let’s dance.”
So they did. They danced twice before Sara was swept away by Hastings, another old duke whom Nicholas found hardly dangerous for her to be dancing with.
He took a sip of punch and looked around. All eyes were still positively fixed upon Sara. It was enough to make even Nicholas feel uncomfortable. Upon closer inspection people weren’t exactly looking at her in awe, nor were they trying to cut her, in fact they just seemed morbidly curious about something.
He shook his head and took another sip of champagne.
“Renwick!” A booming voice said behind him before slapping his back three times.
He turned to see Belverd. “Ah, how are you?” Nicholas asked politely.
Belverd chuckled. “I should be asking you the same thing.”
Nicholas felt his chest swell with pride. “Well, marriage has been good, I will admit that much.”
Belverd looked at him curiously then back at Sara. “Tell me you know, Nicholas.”
So maybe there was some sort of scandal that happened. “Know? I don’t know of anything. Why, what’s going on?”
Belverd looked extremely uncomfortable. Nicholas stood in front of him to keep him from escaping. “Belverd?” he prompted.
“It’s really not my place to say,” he responded hoarsely.
“How am I to know what is and is not your place? Just get on with it before I go mad.” Nicholas half-laughed, half-wanted to punch him.
Belverd leaned in and whispered as softly as a man could, “It was in the gossip pages this morning. I thought you had seen it. Actually, I thought you already knew.”