Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) (18 page)

They had been on the last piece when he had watched Julie take Sarah aside. She had looked up at him twice as Julie spoke to her, her violet eyes searching his for answers. And as Julie turned and left, he realized that Sarah's smile had vanished.

In his haste to be done, Nick smashed his thumb soundly with the hammer. His hearty curse rang out at the exact moment the musicians decided to stop practice. All heads turned in his direction and he clamped his jaw hard to remain silent as pain soared through him.

Relieved that her garland was finished, Mrs. Carlson had insisted Nick come down from the ladder immediately so she could inspect the damage. His thumb, already turning blue, was the least of his worries. Brushing aside the motherly attention, Nick navigated the crowded room with Sarah in tow, leaving Chris to contend with his mother and any other chore she deemed must be completed before morning.

Nick guided Sarah through a maze of rooms until they reached the privacy of the back porch. He watched her shiver in the moonlight and silently doffed his coat to place it about her shoulders.

"You really should do something about your finger," she said softly. But her head stayed bowed and her eyes refused to meet his.

Nick stopped, leaned back against the railing, then turned Sarah to stand before him. "It's not my thumb I'm worried about." His injured hand reached up to touch her chin, raising her eyes to his. "What did she say to you?" He watched a single luminous tear gather.

For a moment he thought she would remain silent, then, taking a deep breath and gazing past his shoulder, her words tumbled forth. "I didn't mean to shame you." Her eyes darted to his then away again. "And I have a new dress for tomorrow, but I never thought that tonight would be considered part of the celebration."

Nick frowned. "What makes you think you have shamed me? I considered myself most fortunate. In case you didn't notice, you were the most beautiful woman in the room." Even in the moonlight he could see the color bloom in her pale cheeks.

"It's just so hard to remember," she continued, daring to look at him. "At home this dress would be considered too grand to wear except for the most special of occasions. And even then I would be setting myself apart from my neighbors. But here . . ." she gestured about them. "Here I am dressed like a housekeeper."

"Sarah . . ." his voice was tender. "I don't care what clothing you wear."

Her smile was slow in coming. Did he think she hadn't noticed the questioning looks or heard the chuckles behind her back? Agatha had been right – unless she dressed the part, she was going to cause Nick nothing but embarrassment.

Nick gave her a leering grin. "In fact, I think I would like it best if you wore none at all."

Sarah's laughter rang out at the absurdity of his thoughts, and suddenly she realized that, like her father, Nick possessed the ability to utter a few simple words and her world became right again. "I do have a grand dress for tomorrow," she assured him as the heat from his smile began to penetrate. "Your grandmother spent a fortune on it."

Nick's smile deepened and he edged her closer between his legs. "Why didn't you dance this evening? I noticed you were never in want of company."

"That's because you never stopped watching me." She tilted her head and raised a brow. "Were you afraid that I'd do something wrong?"

Nick rested his hands on her waist and ignored her pointed look that said he should remove them. "Do you not know how to dance? I could teach you if you'd like."

Sarah folded her arms across her chest and tried to ignore the tremors his thumbs caused as they reached up to brush back and forth across the velvet nap at her ribs. She tried to keep her voice calm, but his nearness was making it impossible. "We don't believe in instruments," she said quickly, hating the breathy sound of her words. "The ministers say they are the voice of the devil."

Nick's eyes mirrored his astonishment. "But you sing. I've heard you. What harm can there be in an instrument that plays a tune?"

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s never made sense to me. Once, many years ago, a man came through Salem with a lyre.” Her questioning eyes looked up at Nick and she instinctively leaned closer, “His songs were so sweet that they could bring a tear to your eye. I thought it grand, for you know that David once played a lyre for King Saul.” Her voice faded off and Nick edged her closer still.

“What happened?” he whispered. When she turned her face up to his, the light of the full moon danced on her pale cheeks and Nick felt his breath leave his body.

“The ministers ran him out of town.” She paused in thought. “I don’t think he minded leaving until they broke his lyre.” Her body trembled and again her eyes sought his. “Why do you think they did that? He had already agreed to go. Why did they have to break his lyre?” Again Nick felt the tremors run through her. “That was the first time I ever saw a grown man cry,” she stammered.

Lost in the beauty of her, Nick struggled to find words that might offer comfort, but finding none, he simply pulled her close and enfolded her in his arms.

Sarah luxuriated in the warmth of his body. The clean, manly scent of him permeated her being and she felt her insides begin to melt. “I should be going,” she whispered as her cheek rubbed against his muscular shoulder. For the longest moment they stood pressed tightly together, exulting in feelings that could not be openly acknowledged. Then his head lowered and his lips touched hers. For Nick the waiting had been too long, and as his mouth moved hungrily over hers, he thought he might die from the wanting.

Sarah pressed closer still as her arms reached up to encircle his neck. His lips drew everything from her, then returned the feelings a hundredfold. She tasted the dark, mysterious flavor of him and wondered if her thirst would ever be sated. His heart pounded against her breast and her body ached for the touch of his hands. But even so it was she who broke the kiss and stood on legs that threatened to crumple.

“Don’t ask this of me,” her voice trembled. “I have not the strength to tell you no.” she watched passion flare in his eyes but as Nick stepped forward, she stepped back. “I wish I could be closer to you than your clothing when you’ve been caught in a spring rain, but I know for us this cannot be. I have no defenses against the desires you stir in me, so the responsibility to know what is right must belong to you.” She turned to go, slipping Nick’s coat from her shoulders. “If left to me,” she whispered, “I would throw caution to the wind and then we would both be lost.”

Christopher smiled as he strolled by the back porch. He could hear the soft, rich baritone of Nick’s voice. And as his steps took him from their view, he couldn’t help but envy Nick for finding Sarah first. His feet moved soundlessly down the well-trod path to the barn, and he wondered what great emergency awaited him there. Nick had gone so far as to extract a promise that he would see to it, and a promise was something they rarely demanded of the other.

He entered the barn and heard the muffled weeping even before he lit the lantern.

“Julie?” he called, recognizing the sound of his sister’s sobs as he climbed the ladder to the loft.

“Nick, is that you?”

So that’s the way of it
, Chris thought as he swung over the last step. In the lantern light he found his little sister propped against a bale of hay, her eyes swollen and red from crying. His chest swelled in sympathy as he crossed over to her. “Oh, little one,” he soothed, pulling her close to cry on his shoulder. “When are you ever going to learn?”

“Where is Nick?” she demanded with a sniff. “Did you tell him to stay away from me? Is that why he didn’t come?”

Chris brushed her tears with his thumb. “Julie, you are being married tomorrow. What are you thinking of?”

“He told me he would come,” she whined.

Chris stared up at the ceiling and prayed for divine inspiration. “Dear heart, Nick never told you he’d meet you here.”

“But I’m in love with him.”

“You might be in love with Nick, but Nick is in love with Sarah.”

Julie pushed herself away from her brother’s shoulder so she might see his face. “Did he tell you that? Did he say those exact words? Did he say
I am in love with Sarah
?”

Chris pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “My sweet, you have only to look at them to see. Have you ever known Nick to care if his lady smiled at another? Have you ever watched him scowl if she but laughed at another’s joke? He’s in love, and if my guess is not mistaken, Sarah’s in love with him, too.”

Julie scrubbed the handkerchief across her face and soundly blew her nose. “But it’s not fair,” she pouted. “I’d be better for him than she would. She doesn’t even know how to dress. Tonight she could have been one of the servants.”

Chris gave her curls a playful tug. “And did you see that to Nick it mattered not in the slightest?”

Still frowning, Julie pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms about them. “I think he’s making a mistake.”

Chris hugged her shoulder. “I think you are the one who might be making the mistake. Why are you crying over Nick when you’ve promised your heart to Clarence?”

She shrugged and stared into the shadowy corners of the loft. “I thought I could force Nick’s hand.”

Chris swore softly under his breath. “But if you don’t love Clarence, you should call the wedding off.”

“What, and return all those glorious wedding presents?”

“The presents aren’t going to keep you warm on a cold night when you’re married to a man you don’t love.”

Julie pulled herself to her feet and gave her brother a haughty stare. “Unlike some people,” she paused, “Clarence worships the ground I walk on. I don’t’ think he’ll have any trouble keeping me warm. And Mr. Nicholas Beaumont can just put that thought in his pipe and smoke it.” With the dignity of a queen and the stubbornness of a willful child, Julie flipped her leg over the ladder and left the loft.

“Is she all right?” Nick questioned from his perch on the back step.

Chris reached the porch and nodded wearily. “She brings it on herself, you know, but still one can’t help feeling sorry for her. Our parents spoiled her so much when she was little that now she just doesn’t understand when she can’t have everything she wants.”

Nick stood and stretched. “And what of tomorrow?”

Chris shrugged. “She’ll be fine, as radiant as always. Her pride will allow her no less.”

“What of her husband? Is he going to make her happy?”

Chris snorted. “If giving into her every whim will make her happy, then Clarence Morgan is the right man. Julie can wrap him around her little finger.”

Nick shook his head. “Julie is a sweet child, but she’s going to make them both miserable.”

“Just as long as she does it at home. Her new home that is . . . Where is Sarah?”

“She’s gone to her room.” Nick’s voice was tight as he struggled to keep his thoughts from imagining Sarah snuggled beneath the covers.

Never one to mince words, Chris looked Nick straight in the eye. “And are you gong to tell me how you two really met or are you going to stick to that nonsensical story of her being the granddaughter of a friend of Agatha’s?”

For a long moment Nick was silent; then he turned and nodded toward the woods. “Does that creek still run along the northern border?”

Chris’s grin turned devilish. “Deep enough to dive and cold enough to freeze your privates off.”

Nick reached for the top buttons of his waistcoat and began to pull them open. “Let’s go,” he challenged, hoping an icy bath would cool the fire that burned in his loins and threatened him with tossing caution to the wind. “And I’ll wager a keg of my finest brandy that you turn blue a full lap before me.”

Chris’s laughter rang out as he tossed his own coat over the railing. “Brandy be hanged. Let’s make it interesting. The winner gets to partner Sarah at dinner tomorrow.”

Nick nodded. “It’s a bet.”

Chapter Sixteen

The morning of the wedding bloomed bright and clear. As Sarah entered the grand salon, she couldn’t believe the transformation. Roses, in every shade of pink, had been artfully woven into the garlands of green that Nick and Chris had hung the night before. Their fresh scent filled the room, and Sarah realized that their full glory would be revealed as the heat of the day coaxed their petals to open. Delicate chains of white paper scalloped the garlands and huge white paper bows filled the corners. The effect was magnificent and Sarah could only wonder if Mrs. Carlson had seen her bed at all the night before.

Carefully she ventured further into the room. The musicians had left their instruments resting on the chairs that had been provided for them in the far corner, but Sarah resisted the urge to inspect them at close range. In her mind she could still hear the melodies they had created the night before, and although she found the situation not at all unpleasant, the teaching of her ministers ran deep.

Crossing the room, she saw a long table covered with white linen. In its center rested the most splendid cake she had ever seen. It stood four tiers tall and the white icing that covered it formed flowers and lattices of the most delicate nature. Two maids laden with heavy silver trays entered the room and immediately crossed over to her. They smiled shyly in her direction, then set about assembling a grand pyramid of sweets on either side of the cake.

Mrs. Carlson bustled in carrying yet another immense tray. Sarah rushed to assist her. “Are you expecting many for the ceremony?” she asked, amazed at the quantity of food being set forth.

The woman sighed gratefully, allowing Sarah to take the weight of the tray. “Since the weather has held I think we should have just under two hundred.”

“Two hundred people?” Sarah could not contain her amazement.

“Yes. Except for the Thermonts and the Fitzwaters who sent their regrets, I think everyone else is expected.” Mrs. Carlson shifted the tray and frowned. “Where are those boys?” She added an additional jelly to the pyramid on the right. “They’re never nearby when you need them. And God forbid I should get them to wear their wigs today like proper gentlemen.”

“Are you looking for Mr. Beaumont and Master Chris?” the youngest maid questioned. “They’re down by the woodpile. That’s what all the cheering is about.”

“At the woodpile?” Mrs. Carlson and Sarah spoke in unison.

The girl nodded. “They made a bet with each other as to who could split a cord of wood the fastest.”

Mrs. Carlson rolled her eyes toward heaven. “What next?” she muttered.

“Oh, it is all right,” the maid added hastily. “Mr. Carlson is holding the money.”

Sarah couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she offered no resistance when Mrs. Carlson took her hand and announced they were going to see for themselves.

“So who do you think will win?” Mrs. Carlson winked as they reached the edge of the crowd that had gathered. Slaves stood with house servants, and wedding guests in all their finery circled Nick and Chris as their axes rose and fell with startling speed.

Mrs. Carlson stepped to the front of the circle and clapped her hands smartly. “Chris, Nick, stop this immediately.” Amid the groans of protest from the crowd, the two axes fell silent. “Christopher Carlson, what can you be thinking of? Your sister is getting married today. And you,” she turned on her husband. “You’re as bad as these two scallywags. I have chores that need tending and a wedding to see to, and I can’t accomplish anything if the help is in the yard. Now, just how long is this going to take?”

Nick straightened and wiped the sweat from his brow. Like Chris, his jacket and waistcoat hung from a nearby fencepost and his once-white shirt was completely pulled from his breeches. He glanced at the stack of wood already chopped. “I say we chop for thirty minutes more, then call the contest ended.”

Mrs. Carlson eyed her son and the growing crowd, then looked at the small timepiece she wore pinned to her gown. “One half hour and not a minute longer and then I expect everyone to help make up for this lost time. Is that understood?”

“Yes, madam,” Chris and Nick said in unison, exchanging grins.

“Then stop standing there resting and get on with it,” she commanded. “Mr. Carlson, I place five pounds of my egg money on Christopher.” The crowd cheered but she raised her hand for silence. “And I want to place five pounds of my house money on Nicholas.” The roar of the crowd doubled and both men bowed in her direction.

Nick spit in his hands and rubbed them together briskly. Blisters were already forming, but he was not put off, for he had looked up to find Sarah standing directly before him on the inner edge of the growing circle.

Chris saw Sarah, too, and his smile turned devilish. He rubbed his own sore hands on the sides of his breeches. “Same odds as last night?” He gave Nick a challenging wink.

Nick returned the grin. “You’re a glutton for punishment, my friend.”

Chris glanced again in Sarah’s direction, then to the hoots of the men and squeals from the ladies, he pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the ground. His well-defined shoulder muscles glistened in the sunlight. “You might be a fish, Beaumont, but then, fish don’t do very well on land, do they?”

Nick’s eyes flashed his own determination and his shirt followed suit. But instead of dropping it to the ground, he tossed the damp garment in Sarah’s direction and smiled when she reached to catch it. “Hold that for me, would you?” he called. “I won’t be but a minute.”

Chris flexed his muscles and raised his axe. “It’s thirty of them, and you’d better be ready.”

Nick threw back his head, laughed at the sky, then took his position. A pistol sounded and Sarah jumped as the contest began anew.

Sarah didn’t even realize she pressed Nick’s shirt close to her heart as she watched the axes rise and fall. Never in her life had she seen a naked chest, and now two stood displayed boldly before her. Transfixed, she watched the blue veins on Nick’s powerful forearms trace a pattern up his inner arm. The fluid motion of his axe whistled as it sliced through the air to land again and again. His broad shoulders were soon covered with sweat and they glistened as they flexed and stretched in the sunlight. The muscles of his chest revealed hidden strength, and Sarah could not stop her eyes from following the dark hair that curled down the center of that flat, broad expanse to disappear into the waistband of his snug breeches.

Her mouth went dry and her head grew light as she watched each well-placed stroke of his axe. And when the sudden thought of lying naked within the circle of his arms struck her soul, Sarah felt her insides melt.

The gun sounded again, and Sarah blinked with a start. Could a half hour have truly passed so quickly? The she realized that beneath her gown her chemise was soaked with perspiration from standing unprotected in the blazing sun. Blinking against the sudden glare, she watched the two men shake hands, then lean back on their axe handles. Chris joked good-naturedly with the crowd as his own wood was stacked and measured. But Nick’s smile didn’t return until his pile was declared higher and he was officially proclaimed the winner. Even then his expression was more of satisfaction than pleasure.

Two buckets of icy water were hauled from the stream and Sarah gasped along with Nick as one was dumped over him. He shivered and shook his head, reminding her of a dog caught in the rain as he sent water droplets flying.

Chris retrieved his shirt from the ground and slapped it against his thigh to remove the dust before wiping it down his chest. “The next time I’ll not let you beat me so easily,” he teased, trying to catch his breath.

Sarah tried to ignore the money changing hands all around her as she hesitantly stepped forward to hand Nick his shirt. “That was quite a contest,” she said as the crowd melted away to find cooler entertainment. “I had no idea that you two were so . . .”

“Competitive?” Nick offered, glaring at Chris’s exposed chest while his own heaved with each breath.

“Heavily muscled?” Chris winked, holding the stitch in his side.

“Athletic,” Sarah stated firmly, looking from one to the other. “Whatever made you do such a madcap stunt.”

Chris flung his arm around Nick’s shoulder. “You’d never know it, but usually I can beat this clown.”

“And pigs can fly,” Nick snorted, pulling his damp shirt on over his head.

“But why do it at all?” she questioned, trying not to stare at the wet cloth as it clung to his chest.

“Usually for the fun of it.” Chris laughed painfully. “But today the stakes were too rich to pass up.”

Sarah shook her head as she studied them. “But neither of you have need for money.”

Chris shrugged and threaded his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes money is not the answer.” He glanced at Nick and despite the pain in his side, his eyes began to twinkle. “I would not put my body through this torture for a mere handful of coins.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you did this,” she waved toward the towering stacks of wood, “just for the folly of it?”

Both stood sheepishly and refused to meet her gaze.

Sarah folded her arms across her chest, her eyes narrowing. “Then tell me, just what is this magnificent prize that would make two grown men chop wood until they practically collapse?”

Chris flipped his shirt around his neck and let his hands hang on the ends. “Why you, my sweet.” Then giving a wink, he trotted off toward the house leaving Sarah to stare at Nick with eyes full of wonder.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midday and the wedding proceeded exactly as planned. Julie, dressed in the palest of pink, joined her young man to speak their vows before friends and family in the grand salon. Then all the guests were herded out onto the lawn where huge tables had been arranged.

Clad in her new gown of sapphire, and feeling uncomfortably aware of herself, Sarah sat beside Nick on one of the long benches. Chris sat across from them and kept the entire table of twenty amused with his anecdotes. The sun was about to set when the last course was finally served, and Sarah felt she would not be able to eat another bite for days.

“I shall have to add gluttony to my list of sins,” she sighed, leaning back from the table.

Nick turned to watch her. The idea that anyone, save the clergy, would care enough to keep track of their sins amazed him. Yet as he viewed the sincerity on her delicate features he was struck again by the vast differences in their life-styles. He absently kneaded the growing stiffness in his shoulder and wondered if she’d run in fright to find that he owned a harpsichord and was quite accomplished at its keyboard.

They could hear the call of the French horn from the house and the violins being tuned, and soon the lilting sounds of a minuet drifted down the lawn, compelling many of the guests to retreat to the salon in hopes of dancing off the grand meal they had just consumed.

Nick took Sarah’s arm and helped her from the bench. “Have I told you how lovely you look in your new gown?” His eyes were dark and unfathomable when she looked up at him.

“Madame Rousseau made it,” she stammered, unable to forget the sight of his bare chest.

“Actually I find it doesn’t matter what you wear,” he said, taking her arm and steering her toward the house. “You would still be the most beautiful woman here.”

Sarah turned and smiled at him as they reached the steps. “And you are well in your cups if you think that,” she said easily. “Everyone knows that the rule clearly states that the bride be the most comely one at a wedding.”
Nick leaned closer. “And do you always follow the rules?”

Startled by his intensity, Sarah took a step back. “I have to go in,” she said quickly while her heart pounded loudly in her throat. “I promised Mrs. Carlson I would lend a hand. Why don’t you go to the salon and join in the dancing?”

Nick propped his foot on the step and rested his hand on his knee. “I’ll come looking for you later,” he stated solemnly. “I want you with me for the bedding ceremony.”

Eyes wide, Sarah couldn’t begin to voice an answer. Feeling the heat again stain her cheeks, she fled into the house.

Nick watched until her skirt disappeared into the doorway before he turned away. He didn’t know what hurt more, the aching muscles in his back and chest or the constant throb of his manhood. He tried to flex his shoulders and bit back a groan. He had been a fool to let Chris goad him into that insane contest. But he had been an even bigger fool the night before with Sarah. How neatly she had tossed things back in his lap, insisting he make the decisions for both of them. The responsibility weighed heavily on his sore shoulders and he dreaded the decision he knew he must make. Never before had desperation entered into one of his liaisons. His women were always more than willing and eager to please. They knew his wants and serviced him well; he, in turn, returned the pleasure. But now all he could think of was Sarah. Desire filled his veins, making him throb with want and hard with need. Deciding there was no hope for it, Nick turned his step toward the stream in search of another freezing swim. If his body was numb, perhaps his mind could find some answers.

At Mrs. Carlson’s insistence, Sarah joined with the other unattached girls as they led Julie to the special chamber that had been prepared for her first night of marriage. Huge bouquets of baby’s breath and pink carnations filled the corners of the room, and candles flicked shadows on the walls. Julie’s elaborate white wig was carefully removed and returned to its stand on the dresser. Fascinated, Sarah watched as Julie perched on a padded stool and allowed two companions to draw down her braids and brush her hair until it hung about her shoulders like a glowing golden cloak. Embarrassed by the lack of privacy afforded the new bride, Sarah stayed quietly on the edge of the merriment as Julie was helped from her wedding dress and into the lacy nightrail in which she would meet her husband. The diaphanous gown drew sighs of envy, and as Julie waved aside the outer dressing robe, the room filled with giggles and advice on how to pleasure a man. Julie was placed in bed, and all but a few candles were extinguished. Anticipation became a tangible force. But Sarah stared in confusion when skirts were raised and stockings were lowered.