Four In Hand (12 page)

Darcy, following, made for the shrubbery, her hurrying footsteps echoing hollowly on the gravel walks giving him the lead. But once she reached the grassed avenues between the high hedges, her feet made no sound. Penetrating the dark alleys, he was forced to go slowly, checking this way and that to make sure he did not pass her by. So quite fifteen minutes had passed before he reached the central garden and saw the dejected figure huddled on the bench.

In that time, sanity of sorts had returned to Sarah’s mind. Her initial horror at her weakness had been replaced by the inevitable reaction. She was angry. Angry at herself, for being so weak that one kiss could overcome all her defences; angry at Darcy, for having engineered that little scene. She was busy whipping up the necessary fury to face the prospect of not seeing him ever again, when he materialized at her side. With a gasp, she came to her feet.

Relieved to find she was not crying, as he had thought, Darcy immediately caught her hand to prevent her flying from him again.

Stung by the shock his touch always gave her, intensified now, she was annoyed to discover, Sarah tried to pull her hand away. When he refused to let her go, she said, her voice infused with an iciness designed to freeze, “Kindly release me, Lord Darcy.”

On hearing her voice, Darcy placed the emotion that was holding her so rigid. The knowledge that she was angry, nay, furious, did nothing to improve his own temper, stirred to life by her abrupt flight. Forcing his voice to a reasonableness he was far from feeling, he said, “If you’ll give me your word you’ll not run away from me, I’ll release you.”

Sarah opened her mouth to inform him she would not so demean herself as to run from him when the knowledge that she just had, and might have reason to do so again, hit her. She remained silent. Darcy, accurately reading her mind, held on to her hand.

After a moment’s consideration, he spoke. “I had intended, my dear, to speak to you of our…curious relationship.”

Sarah, breathing rapidly and anxious to end the interview, immediately countered, “I really don’t think there’s anything to discuss.”

A difficult pause ensued, then, “So you would deny there’s anything between us?”

The bleakness in his voice shook her, but she determinedly put up her chin, turning away from him as far as their locked hands would allow. “Whatever’s between us is neither here nor there,” she said, satisfied with the lightness she had managed to bring to her tone.

Her satisfaction was short-lived. Taking advantage of her movement, Darcy stepped quickly behind her, the hand still holding hers reaching across her, his arm wrapping around her waist and drawing her hard against him. His other hand came to rest on her shoulder, holding her still. He knew the shock it would give her, to feel his body against hers, and heard with grim satisfaction the hiss of her indrawn breath.

Sarah froze, too stunned to struggle, the sensation of his hard body against her back, his arm wound like steel about her waist, holding her fast, driving all rational thought from her brain. Then his breath wafted the curls around her ear. His words came in a deep and husky tone, sending tingling shivers up and down her spine.

“Well, sweetheart, there’s very little between us now. So, perhaps we can turn our attention to our relationship?”

Sarah, all too well aware of how little there was between them, wondered in a moment of startling lucidity how he imagined that would improve her concentration. But Darcy’s attention had already wandered. His lips were very gently trailing down her neck, creating all sorts of marvellous sensations which she tried very hard to ignore.

Then, he gave a deep chuckle. “As I’ve been saying these weeks past, my dear, you’re wasted as a virgin.  Now, if you were to become my mistress, just think of all the delightful avenues we could explore.”

“I don’t want to become your mistress!” Sarah almost wailed, testing the arm at her waist and finding it immovable.

“No?” came Darcy’s voice in her ear. She had the impression he considered her answer for a full minute before he continued, “Perhaps we should extend your education a trifle, my dear. So you fully appreciate what you’re turning down. We wouldn’t want you to make the wrong decision for lack of a few minutes’ instruction, would we?”

Sarah had only a hazy idea of what he could mean but his lips had returned to her throat, giving rise to those strangely heady swirls of pleasure that washed through her, sapping her will. “Darcy, stop! You know you shouldn’t be doing this!”

He stilled. “Do I?”

Into the silence, a nightingale warbled. Sarah held her breath.

But, when Darcy spoke again, the steel threading his voice, so often sensed yet only now recognised, warned her of the futility of missish pleas.

“Yes. You’re right. I know I shouldn’t.” His lips moved against her throat, a subtle caress. “But what I want to do is make love to you. As you won’t allow that, then this will have to do for now.”

Sarah, incapable of further words, simply shook her head, powerless to halt the spreading fires he was so skilfully igniting.

Afterwards, Darcy could not understand how it had happened. He was as experienced with women as Max and had never previously lost control as he did that night. He had intended to do no more than reveal to the perverse woman her own desires and give her some inkling of the pleasures they could enjoy together. Instead, her responses were more than he had bargained for and his own desires stronger than he had been prepared to admit. Fairly early in the engagement, he had turned her once more into his arms, so he could capture her lips and take the lesson further. And further it had certainly gone, until the moon sank behind the high hedges and left them in darkness.

———

How the hell was he to get rid of her? Max, Lady Mortland on his arm, had twice traversed the terrace. He had no intention of descending to the shadowy avenues. He had no intention of paying any further attention to Lady Mortland at all. Lady Mortland, on the other hand, was waiting for his attentions to begin and was rather surprised at his lack of ardour in keeping to the terrace.

They were turning at the end of the terrace, when Max, glancing along, saw Caroline come out of the ballroom, alone, and walk quickly to the balustrade and peer over. She was clearly seeking someone. Emma Mortland, prattling on at his side, had not seen her. With the reflexes necessary for being one of the more successful rakes in the
ton
, Max whisked her ladyship back into the ballroom via the door they were about to pass.

Finding herself in the ballroom once more, with the Duke of Twyford bowing over her hand in farewell, Lady Mortland put a hand to her spinning head. “Oh! But surely…”

“A guardian is never off duty for long, my dear,” drawled Max, about to move off.

“Perhaps I’ll see you in the Park, tomorrow?” asked Emma, convinced his departure had nothing to do with inclination.

Max smiled. “Anything’s possible.”

He took a circuitous route around the ballroom and exited through the same door he had seen his ward use. Gaining the terrace, he almost knocked her over as she returned to the ballroom, looking back over her shoulder towards the gardens.

“Oh!” Finding herself unexpectedly in her guardian’s arms temporarily suspended Caroline’s faculties.

From her face, Max knew she had not been looking for him. He drew her further into the shadows of the terrace, placing her hand on his arm and covering it comfortingly with his. “What is it?”

Caroline could not see any way of avoiding telling him. She fell into step beside him, unconsciously following his lead. “Sarah. Lizzie saw her leave the ballroom with Lord Darcy. More than twenty minutes ago. They haven’t returned.”

In the dim light, Max’s face took on a grim look. He had suspected there would be trouble. He continued strolling towards the end of the terrace. “I know where they’ll be. There’s a summer-house deeper in the gardens. I think you had better come with me.”

Caroline nodded and, unobtrusively, they made their way to the summer-house.

Max pushed open the door, then frowned at the empty room. He moved further in and Caroline followed. “Not here?”

Max shook his head, then bent to pick up a knot of ribbon from the floor.

Caroline came to see and took it from him. She crossed to the windows, turning the small cluster this way and that to gauge the colour.

“Is it hers?” asked Max as he strolled to her side.

“Yes. I can’t see the colour well but I know the knot. It’s a peculiar one. I made it myself.”

“So they were here.”

“But where are they now?”

“Almost certainly on their way back to the house,” answered Max. “There’s nowhere in this garden suitable for the purpose Darcy would have in mind. Presumably, your sister convinced him to return to more populated surroundings.” He spoke lightly, but, in truth, was puzzled. He could not readily imagine Sarah turning Darcy from his purpose, not in his present mood, not in this setting. But he was sure there was nowhere else they could go.

“Well, then,” said Caroline, dusting the ribbon, “we’d better go back, too.”

“In a moment,” said Max.

His tone gave Caroline an instant’s warning. She put out a hand to fend him off. “No! This is absurd— you know it is.”

Despite her hand, Max succeeded in drawing her into his arms, holding her lightly. “Absurd, is it? Well, you just keep on thinking how absurd it is, while I enjoy your very sweet lips.” And he proceeded to do just that.

As his lips settled over hers, Caroline told herself she should struggle. But, for some mystical reason, her body remained still, her senses turned inward by his kiss. Under gentle persuasion, her lips parted and, with a thrill, she felt his gentle exploration teasing her senses, somehow drawing her deeper. Time seemed suspended and she felt her will weakening as she melted into his arms and they locked around her.

Max’s mind was ticking in double time, evaluating the amenities of the summer-house and estimating how long they could remain absent from the ballroom. He decided neither answer was appropriate. Seduction was an art and should not be hurried. Besides, he doubted his eldest ward was quite ready to submit yet. Reluctantly, he raised his head and grinned wolfishly at her. “Still absurd?”

Caroline’s wits were definitely not connected. She simply stared at him uncomprehendingly.

In face of this response, Max laughed and, drawing her arm through his, steered her to the door. “I think you’re right. We’d better return.”

———

Sanity returned to Sarah’s mind like water in a bucket, slowing filling from a dripping tap, bit by bit,until it was full. For one long moment, she allowed her mind to remain blank, savouring the pleasure of being held so gently against him. Then, the world returned and demanded her response. She struggled to sit up and was promptly helped to her feet. She checked her gown and found it perfectly tidy, bar one knot of ribbon on her sleeve which seemed to have gone missing.

Darcy, who had returned to earth long before, had been engaged in some furious thinking. But, try as he might, he could not imagine how she would react.

Like Max, it had been a long time since young virgins had been his prey. As she stood, he tried to catch a glimpse of her face in the dim light but she perversely kept it averted. In the end, he caught her hands and drew her to stand before him. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Strangely enough, it was the note of sincerity in his voice which snapped Sarah’s control. Her head came up and, even in the darkness, her eyes flashed fire. “Of course I’m not all right! How dare you take advantage of me?”

She saw Darcy’s face harden at her words and, in fury at his lack of comprehension, she slapped him.

For a minute, absolute silence reigned. Then a sob broke from Sarah as she turned away, her head bent to escape the look on Darcy’s face.

Darcy, slamming a door on his emotions, so turbulent that even he had no idea what he felt, moved to rescue them both. In a voice totally devoid of all feeling, he said, “We had better get back to the house.”

In truth, neither had any idea how long they had been absent. In silence, they walked side by side, careful not to touch each other, until, eventually, the terrace was reached. Sarah, crying but determined not to let the tears fall, blinked hard, then mounted the terrace steps by Darcy’s side. At the top, he turned to her. “It would be better, I think, if you went in first.”

Sarah, head bowed, nodded and went.

———

Caroline and Max regained the ballroom and both glanced around for their party. Almost immediately, Lizzie appeared by her sister’s side on the arm of one of her youthful swains. She prettily thanked him and dismissed him before turning to her sister and their guardian. “Sarah came back just after you left to look for her. She and Lady Benborough and Mrs. Alford have gone home.”

“Oh?” It was Max’s voice which answered her. “Why?”

Lizzie cast a questioning look at Caroline and received a nod in reply. “Sarah was upset about something.”

Max was already scanning the room when Lizzie’s voice reached him. “Lord Darcy came in a little while after Sarah. He’s left now, too.”

With a sigh, Max realized there was nothing more to be done that night. They collected Arabella and departed Overton House, Caroline silently considering Sarah’s problem and Max wondering if he was going to have to wait until his friend solved his dilemma before he would be free to settle his own affairs.

Max took a long sip of his brandy and savoured the smooth warmth as it slid down his throat. He stretched his legs to the fire. The book he had been trying to reach rested open, on his thighs, one strong hand holding it still. He moved his shoulders slightly, settling them into the comfort of well padded leather and let his head fall back against the chair.

It was the first night since the beginning of the Season that he had had a quiet evening at home. And he needed it. Who would have thought his four wards would make such a drastic change in a hitherto well-ordered existence? Then he remembered. He had. But he had not really believed his own dire predictions. And the only reason he was at home tonight was because Sarah, still affected by her brush with Darcy the night before, had elected to remain at home and Caroline had stayed with her. He deemed his aunt Augusta and Miriam Alford capable of chaperoning the two younger girls between them. After the previous night, it was unlikely they would allow any liberties.