Once a Rake (Drake's Rakes) (32 page)

And seconds later, his head thrown back, letting go a guttural cry, Ian followed, pumping so hard into her she thought she would split for sure. Wringing every sensation out of her, every thought, every hope and regret and belief, until she was left boneless and panting against his damp chest.

She must have slept. The next thing she knew, Ian was gently shaking her shoulder. His greatcoat, still a bit damp, covered them both, and weak predawn light was creeping through the badly joined boards.

For a moment she didn’t move. She still felt replete, her body humming gently with waning arousal. She wanted for just those few minutes to pretend that Ian and she would never leave this loft; that nothing mattered but their delight in each other.

And then Ian ruined it.

“I want to make love again,” he murmured, running his fingers down her hair.

“
Mmmm.
” She closed her eyes again, as if that would hold off the world a little longer. Her body was reacting predictably to Ian’s words, softening, warming, wanting.

Kissing the top of her head, he held her close. “I want to make love every morning when we wake and every night when we go to bed. And a few times in between.”

She smiled, even as tears burned the back of her throat. “I am already exhausted. That would do me in completely.”

Silence fell, filled with the comfortable sounds of the horses moving about in their stalls and the music of morning birds.

“Sarah.”

“
Mmmm?
”

“Marry me.”

And that quickly, her perfect little world disintegrated, and she was cold.

Chapter 17

Even as Ian reached out to her, she pulled away. It only made the turmoil in her heart worse, because she could see him, his hair tousled and his sky blue eyes sleepy and warm. He looked comfortable as an old pillow, as sheltering and safe as a stone wall. And he was smiling as if his own question wouldn’t destroy him.

She half expected him to grab for her. He didn’t move, which told her more than anything that he’d known even before he asked the question that he was wrong.

“I mean it,” he insisted anyway, finally sitting up, the thick gray coat pooling in his lap, which left his chest bare. “I love you. I need you.”

Which took Sarah’s breath and broke her heart. She so loved that chest. She loved the unexpected vulnerability in his eyes. She loved the ridges that deepened between his brows as he watched her, and the way he waited as patiently as night for her answer.

She could see the arousal rising in him and reached for her clothing. “No you don’t. You don’t mean it. You only wish it.”

On went the much-darned chemise, her hands trembling, her baser side screaming in protest.
Yes, damn it! Answer yes before he changes his mind. You can work it out if you only say yes!

But she couldn’t lie to herself either.

“Sarah,” he said, his eyes brittle with hunger. “I made you an offer before. I never should have. I knew it the minute I made it. But, please, Sarah. I have to have you with me. And marriage is the only way that can happen. Please, lass. Marry me.”

She waited until she had slipped on her dress before reaching for his hand. “Thank you,” she said, wanting to weep with sorrow. “Thank you for respecting me so much that you would make such a sacrifice. But even if you don’t understand what would happen, I do. I know what you would suffer if you broke your engagement. I know how fruitless your campaigns would be to help all those people if the wife you forced on the world was a nameless bastard. I know that Fiona and Mairead would lose their future. You don’t want to admit it, but you know it too. The world will not change merely because you want it to.”

He rose to his feet so fast she didn’t have a chance to step away. And before she could say no, he dragged her to him, all but crushing her in his arms. “It can,” he insisted. “I say it can. Don’t you understand? I’ve never felt this way about another person in my life.
Any
person. You’re brave enough, Sarah. You could do it.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and inhaled his scent, and knew what it felt to die inside. “No, Ian,” she said, pulling away, knowing he would never force her to stay, because he was a good man. “I’m not, actually. I am the perfect size for Fairbourne, where I only have to deal with local farmers and spinster women, and my birth can usually be overlooked. I was never meant for greater things. I was never raised to it.”

“I wasn’t either,” he protested. For an eternity, he only looked down at her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes fierce. “I could make you.”

She couldn’t help it. Smiling, she lifted a hand to his face. “You might,” she said. “But you won’t. You are meant for great things, Ian Ferguson. I would destroy that, and we both know it.”

“I’ll give it up.”

She reared back, breaking contact. “You will not. You will live up to the vow you made and help those people. You know what it is like to be friendless and alone, Ian. You cannot desert others in the same position. And you will
not
shame your Ardeth. She does not deserve it.”

The pain on his features was exquisite. “But you could help me so much.”

Her temper snapped. “And how would I do that? Ian, the last time I saw my brother the duke, he warned me that if I showed my face in public again, he would have me arrested and transported for attempted extortion. And anyone who came with me. The
duke,
Ian, who will have been duke long before you will be a marquess. Who will, as a matter of pride, see you ruined for taking my side. How exactly will that help you?”

She saw the torment in his eyes, his instinctive urge to contradict her. The hard realization that he couldn’t. Finally he lifted his hand to her face, his callused fingers unbearably soft. “But what of you?”

Grief impaled her like shards of ice. She forced herself to smile. “Why, I will match wits with the wiliest pig in England and save my pennies to give Artie a season. And I will watch for your name in the papers as you cut your swath through parliament.”

“It’s not enough, Sarah.”

“It is, Ian. As long as I know you are all right, it will be.”

Once again he held her, but this time gently, his head bent over hers, his heart thundering beneath her ear. “Oh, lass,” he whispered. “I’m afraid this will kill me.”

“No it won’t,” she assured him, her hand to his heart, her face up to his. “No berserker dies of disappointment.”

“He might of a broken heart, though.”

Yes, she thought, fighting a tide of despair. A person might well die of a broken heart.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He had survived loss, injury, betrayal, and battle, and he had never felt like this, as if he were shattering to dust. As if the future yawned away before him like a lightless hell.

He loved her. He
loved
her, with a fierce hunger that ate through his chest and stole his sense. After hearing her story, he loved her even more. She wasn’t merely pretty and kind and strong. She was unspeakably brave. He loved her and he couldn’t think of any way to have her.

She was right. He could never shame Ardeth. He couldn’t ruin Fiona and Mairead or desert the people who needed his voice: soldiers, widows, crofters, children. It would be unforgivably selfish to choose his own happiness over theirs. It would be dishonorable. But God, he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

As matter-of-factly as he could, he finished tying the bundle to the back of Harvey’s saddle and lifted Sarah up. She looked no better than he felt, which made him hurt even worse. He hadn’t been fair to her. He should never have taken her. He should never have pushed her with his proposal, knowing what she would say, because she had more honor than he did.

Putting his foot in the stirrup, he swung up behind her. His cock went hard in an instant. He paid no attention. Arousal he could ignore. It was the unbearable memory of her lying in his arms that threatened to destroy him. Her warmth, her bright laughter, her generosity. Her unshakable sense. He wrapped his arms about her and fought the urge to ride south for the coast. For anonymity and freedom. He turned the horse east and clucked him into a canter.

Sarah cleared her throat, as if she hadn’t spoken in decades. “Um, that road there,” she said, pointing toward north of dawn. “I think it will bring us out near Powerstock.”

He nodded, not trusting his own voice. The light was growing stronger, and he could see more clearly. Cowbells clanged in the distance, and a farm cart was traveling on a road that intersected the one they followed. Seeing it, he felt a familiar prickling on the back of his neck. They were too exposed. He looked around, and saw that a coppice paralleled the road just to the north. He made for it.

“We might have to pull up for a bit,” he warned, scanning the area more thoroughly. “We are much too distinctive to forget.”

“No,” she said, her voice small. “We must get you to safety as soon as we can.”

And away from me.
He could almost hear it. He didn’t blame her in the least.

“We will,” he said. “I promise.”

But they couldn’t. Even before they reached the coppice, Ian heard the rumble of horses over the ridge and had to kick Harvey into a gallop. They just made it into the trees before a group of horsemen approached within fifty yards, headed north.

“Martin,” Sarah said, her voice heavy with disdain when she recognized the leader. “And he’s obviously found more out-of-work soldiers.”

“Those look even more disreputable than the last lot.”

It was nerve-wracking enough when she saw Martin set to pass them by. Then, with a lift of his hand, he stopped his troop at the crossroads. “I doubt she’s made it this far,” Martin said, shocking Sarah. “You four, go on east. If you don’t see anything, go ahead and make the delivery. I’ll take you five with me back toward Fairbourne.”

“And if we find her?”

Martin laughed. “We see that she is hung for aiding a traitor.”

“But ’e kidnapped ’er,” Private Greggins protested. “All ’ave said so.”

“And I say he didn’t. If we find her, we’ll find him. And since I am magistrate here, I’m the one who can lock her in the roundhouse, aren’t I?” Even from where she sat Sarah could feel his malice. “I have a feeling a little gaol time will help us find out what happened to Briggs. He didn’t simply vanish off the face of the earth.”

“I would,” Sarah heard distinctly. Obviously Martin didn’t, because in the next moment, the troop was off, split into different directions.

She shuddered in Ian’s arms, and he hugged her. “There’s no question of your goin’ back now, lassie. If we want to give Briggs and Clarke their just rewards, you’ll have tae come with me.”

“First things first,” she said, not ready to address that problem. “We need to avoid Martin’s men to get to your friends. I think we should go south for a bit.”

They did, weaving in and out of one small lane after another. They had to pull up twice more within the hour to avoid bands of militia.

“You would think they would have given up by now,” Sarah protested as they watched the latest band of riders canter north.

“Not with Martin Clarke on a tear.” Leaning around, he lifted the burlap bag Sarah had filled in the kitchens. “Why don’t we eat? I’m fair gut-foundered.”

They sat for a while as the sun rose higher and thin clouds crept over the horizon, crunching old apples and fresh bread topped with cheese.

“Ian,” Sarah said. “What will you do if you cannot prove your innocence?”

“Marry you and run away to America.”

“No, you won’t. You would never desert your sisters like that.”

“We’ll bring them along.”

She shook her head. “Mairead has been uprooted enough. She would not be able to acclimate.”

“Oh, she’s sturdier than that.”

Sarah looked up at him, perfectly serious. “No, Ian. She’s not.”

Ian looked down at her. Stupidly, he was surprised by an odd flash of resentment. Envy. She knew his sisters better than he did.

“Tell me why,” he said.

She looked up, briefly meeting his eyes before returning to her meal. “She needs to feel safe. To know what to expect. It was why school was such a disaster. Her routine was upended, and she never knew what to expect. And she couldn’t really communicate with the other girls. It wasn’t even enough that Fiona was there with her.” She seemed to think for a minute, staring at her apple. “I hope the two of them are all right. They must have heard the accusations against you by now.”

He looked up, struck. “They probably think I’m dead. Christ, they must think I left them alone with that bastard.”

She gave a small huff. “There are many things you can say about the marquess, Ian. I fear bastard is not one of them.”

He gave her a brief smile in return. “Spiritually, emotionally, morally.”

She nodded and tossed her apple. “In that case…I wish I could go to them.”

“As do I. But not until we know you’re safe. I want you to promise that you’ll wait right there at Fairy Steps until I send one of my friends to you.”

“Ian . . .”

He cupped her face in his hand and turned it to him. “Promise. If I cannot bring you in with me, at least let me send my friends to you.”