The Wife He Always Wanted (22 page)

“That man tests the limits of my sanity,” Sarah said and stared at her sleep-reddened eyes in the mirror. The bed called for her return, but her curiosity—and the idea of parading about London in only her nightdress—kept her from crawling back beneath the coverlet.

Flora laid a simple blue frock on the bed and walked over to collect a brush. The process of detangling her waist-length hair began. “He adores you.”

Sarah stilled. Unlike the maid, she wasn’t sure what he felt. He enjoyed her body and company. This she knew. But he’d never spoken of his feelings for her.

Of course, Gabriel was not the sort of man to spout poetic nonsense anyway. If he ever did fall in love with her, he’d probably tell Benning first, after a night of drink and mischief-making with his friends.

With expert hands, Flora made quick work of her hair, tying it back with a simple black ribbon. The dress finished her toilet and she was downstairs a mere thirty-five minutes later.

Gabriel made a show of checking the clock. “You now have twenty-five minutes to eat.”

She held his eyes with a glare and regally crossed to the sideboard and filled her plate. “You, Mister Harrington, are a bully. I should be allowed another two hours of sleep before being dragged from my bed.”

He reached for the newspaper. “We have no time to dawdle. There is much to accomplish today.”

“Where is Mister Brown?” she asked and sought out evidence the Runner was joining them for breakfast. “We cannot leave him. It would be rude.”

“He rose early and left.”

“I see.” She had no further excuses to stay in today. “Was he in a reasonable condition?”

“After suggesting he spend the day here, to rest, he assured me he was well enough to go. Who am I to disagree?”

“Hmmm. Men.” She would have had Mister Brown tied down for his own good. He had been badly beaten. “What about you? Your face is a fright.”

“A dull ache is all,” he said. “A few bruises will not keep us from our mission. You have nineteen minutes.”

Sarah ate, silently amused by the entire matter. Yes, she was put off by the early hour—after he’d kept her up until after midnight with his delicious attentions—but she had to admit she wanted to spend the day with her husband. She found she liked being with him more than being without him.

Enamored was understating her feelings for him. She was heading off a cliff toward love and could do nothing except brace for impact on the rocks below.

Did she trust him? Not fully. Was he earning her trust? He was, a little more each day. Still, there was a tiny part of her that needed more time to examine the deepest part of his character. It wasn’t easy to move past Gabriel’s betrayal of her brother. Yet, she was trying.

She placed her napkin aside and rose. “I am ready.”

The sun shone brightly outside the windows, so Sarah chose a gray pelisse and a bonnet with a wide rim. Gabriel decided to drive them himself, and they left London behind in an open carriage.

“Are we visiting Nanny today?”

Gabriel snapped the reins when the gelding slowed. “Perhaps later, if we have the time. First we have a pressing matter needing attention.”

They drove for an hour past field and dale until Gabriel eased the horse off the road and onto a narrow path. The path led into an empty field that was choked with weeds and briars.

“Where are we?” Sarah asked, her eyes drifting around the unplowed plot then behind the seat. There was nothing of note but a rolled-up blanket. “If you planned a picnic, you should have brought a basket.”

“No picnic.” He helped her down and claimed the blanket. Leading the way, he crossed the field and found a place where the ground was largely cleared and grassy. He put the blanket down and carefully unrolled the item. Tucked inside were a scabbard and sword and a knife. He pulled a pistol from under his coat and added the weapon to the rest.

Her brows went up. “Do you plan to run me through and bury me here? There are certainly less bloody ways to rid oneself of an unwanted wife.”

Ignoring her, he took off his coat and reached for the knife. “This property is owned by the Marquess Terwilloby. He offered its use, as there are no houses nearby to disturb the citizenry.”

“Then you
do
plan to rid yourself of me.” She looked down at her serviceable dress. “At least you could have allowed me my best gown. I will be the shabbiest-dressed woman in heaven.”

He turned the knife around and held it out, handle first. “Enough prattle about murder. Take this.”

Sarah removed her pelisse and bonnet and took the knife. She held it up to the light and ran a fingertip over the polished steel. “The blade is dull.”

“It is. For my protection.” He reclaimed the item. “When we spoke last evening, I realized that you are desperately ill suited to protect yourself against spies and thugs. Although I am certain you can swing a pot with lethal accuracy, you cannot hide a pot under your gown. You need a weapon to tuck into your garter when you are outside the town house.”

The scabbard was heavy when she crouched to claim it. She scrunched up her face and slid the blade partially out. Steel from the sword flickered in the sunlight. “I will need a bigger garter,” she joked.

Gabriel glanced skyward. “I brought that, as your father had no other weapons in the house. It is American and I believe it dates back to the Revolution.”

“I wonder where Father found this.”

He took the sword and handed her the knife. “Pay attention. First. When under attack, you must keep your head. As an unskilled fighter, you’ll want to slash about, hoping to hit some part of your attacker.” He showed her by example. The blade went this way and that with no control. “This will give him opportunities to hit you here, here, and here.” He pointed to the vulnerable places under his arm, his stomach, and his neck.

“I see.” Sarah touched her stomach. It curdled with the idea of a sword sticking out of the soft flesh.

“It is imperative to focus on those same places with your blade.” He thrust with precision, careful not to touch her with the sword tip. Sarah struggled not to flinch. “Let us try this slowly.”

Gabriel showed her how to stand, with her feet apart, one behind the other. Her blade was shorter than his, and less lethal, so he adjusted his stance accordingly.

“Now thrust.” She did so and he spun away. “Good. Now try again. You will not hurt me.”

Sarah pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and advanced. After a few weak attempts, and him mocking her for not trying hard enough, she began to find her feet and determination. She thrust with greater energy, forcing him back, and once narrowly missing his arm.

A grin followed the near-miss. “Excellent,” he said. They went on that way for what seemed like hours until her arm was numb and sweat trickled between her breasts and down her spine.

“I think you have the basic tools for knife fighting,” he said. “We will continue on.”

She lowered the blade, somewhat—if not completely—satisfied with her performance. “I only hope my opponent is as green as I.”

“We both pray for that,” he teased.

Pride straightened her spine. She tightened her hand on the handle. “Hmmm. I take umbrage with that comment.” The knife came up. Sarah circled him, hips swaying, her eyes locked onto his. “You are supposed to inspire confidence, Husband, not toss insults. I think you underestimate my skill.”

She thrust. Caught off-guard, Gabriel did not have time to react. The knife hit him, the dull blade glancing off his waistcoat and skimming across his rib cage, causing no damage, but giving her extreme satisfaction to have gotten in a lick.

His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

Satisfied, and a bit shocked by her good luck, Sarah pulled back and made a show of wiping invisible blood off on her skirt. “Perhaps I am not so green after all.”

Chuckling, Gabriel reached out—gingerly—for the knife. “You, Mrs. Harrington, never fail to surprise me.”

Avoiding his reach, she pointed the knife at him, her stance perfect and her eyes lethally mischievous. “Drop your trousers,” she demanded. “I want to claim my winnings.”

The pause was only long enough for him to see the direction of her thoughts. “As you command.”

The trousers came off quickly.

“Lie on your back,” she said. He stretched out on the blanket. She straddled his hips then tossed the blade away. Bunching up her skirts, she lowered herself awkwardly over his erection. He helped by pushing her underclothing aside. Once freed of all encumbrances, she slid onto the shaft with Gabriel guiding himself inside her.

He groaned. “I have never been taken by a lady pirate.”

Her hips rocked forward and back, the pleasure intense. “I have never enjoyed the spoils of war.”

She leaned to kiss him, thrusting her tongue past his lips. The kiss was hard and deep as she rode him, no tenderness between them. He put his hands between them and jerked down her bodice. Rough palms toyed with her nipples. She ended the kiss and arched back. Her mind went blank but for the feeling of his hard cock inside her and his hands rough, kneading her breasts.

Harder she thrust toward her release.

Gabriel said words that tweaked her proper sensibilities, raw and dirty words. Aching, seeking, hungry, she rode him like a wild thing until her body could take no more. With a final carnal cry, she shuddered through a violent release, taking Gabriel with her in his own pleasured cry.

“Good Lord,” Gabriel said as she sprawled on his chest, the scent of sex and sweat swirling around them. “You’ve killed me as no knife could.”

Chapter Twenty-one

U
nable to lift her head, Sarah laughed softly against his waistcoat. A button scraped her cheek. He shoved his hands in the disheveled mass of her hair, locking her body to his.

“Kick some dirt over me and leave me here,” he said and closed his eyes. “Please tell my parents I died in a carriage accident. Harrington men have never expired while in the throes of passion. It will shame me to be the first.”

Sarah’s laughter deepened a notch. “Oh no. If I am to find a new mate, and have my pick of preeminent males, I must parade your dead body through London, boasting that I killed you while riding your manly frame. Within hours, I should be the most sought-after widow in all of London.”

A sharp growl rumbled from somewhere inside his muscled chest in response to her tart comment, and she was swiftly displaced as he rolled her beneath him.

“Oh!” she gasped.

His eyes locked on hers. “First you nearly kill me. Then you threaten to ruin my reputation as a man of great sexual prowess. Followed up by not having the courtesy of waiting until my body has chilled before searching for my replacement? You are a cold and heartless minx, Mrs. Harrington.”

She lifted her head and kissed the tip of his nose. “A woman needs a man to take care of her. Why wait?”

Under no circumstances did Sarah need a man to give her orders and treat her as if she was a mindless toy. She had a house of her own, and if Gabriel was ever met with an early and unfortunate demise, she would not need money either. She could live her life as she pleased.

By the look he gave her, he knew she was making sport of him. “If you want to replace me, you will have to try harder to kill me.” His hands slid up to cup her buttocks. His cock stirred again. “I have all afternoon if you’d like to try.”

Sarah let out a surprised yelp when he dove back between her thighs.

* * *

T
he rest of the morning was broken up between Gabriel trying his level best to cause his untimely demise, while buried inside his wife, and teaching her how to use a pistol.

He much preferred the former. It was Sarah who finally threw up the flag of surrender. “Should you take me again, I fear you will have to carry me home.” She nuzzled his neck and said, “Besides, I’ve discovered I do not want a new husband. I am partial to the one I have.”

With her bare body nuzzled up to his, a flood of happiness rushed through Gabriel. Dammit if the chit had not wriggled her way into his heart. “Interesting, that. I am partial to my wife.”

Partial? Hell, he loved her.

Gabe looked up at graying clouds. Somewhere above, Albert was laughing until his ghostly side ached. He might not have wanted Gabe to marry his sister, but he would have found Gabe’s falling pell-mell for Sarah tremendously amusing.

They had both vowed to avoid the love trap. And somehow Gabe wondered if falling for Sarah was Albert’s ultimate revenge for Gabe breaking his promise to find her a bland and suitable husband.

“What are you thinking?” Sarah asked. She whirled her fingertips in the hair on his chest.

“Nothing important.” He slid a hand up her bare back. Somehow, during the time between her demand that he take off his trousers and now, they’d both managed to lose every thread of outer clothing. It was fun to see Sarah firing a pistol wearing only her chemise. “I was just wondering what Albert would think of this.”

Sarah lifted her head. “Of you having your way with me in this field? I think he would not want to ponder the notion.”

He snorted and rubbed his chin. “Not . . . this. I know our marriage wasn’t what he wanted, but would he have eventually approved, now that we have settled into this union?”

“He would want me to be content. I’d assume he’d want peace for you, too.” She bit her bottom lip. “Well, after he beat you senseless for lying to me.”

Gabe eased Sarah off and sat. He pulled her up and faced her. “Are you satisfied with your life?”

She reached to place an open hand on his leg. “I am.”

Thunder rumbled as darkness gathered in the distance. They both looked up in surprise. “We need to get back to London before the storm. The open carriage will offer no shelter.”

They scrambled up and into their clothing. The soft breeze no longer skimmed across the sunny meadow. A harder wind kicked up, leading in the storm.

“Quickly,” Gabe urged. He rolled the weapons into the blanket, took her hand, and they ran to the waiting carriage. They had just reached the outskirts of London when rain lashed down upon them. But Gabe barely felt the rain or noticed water dripping off the brim of his hat.

Her contentment was not a declaration of love nor was it proof of trust. That would come eventually. He was certain of this. A woman like Sarah could not give herself with such enthusiasm to him without feeling something other than mere satisfaction with her lot.

“I am soaked,” she said through her teeth-chattering laughter. She held up the brim of her sodden bonnet with one hand and clutched the seat with the other. Her pelisse could not save her completely from the deluge. The blue dress clung to her curves. She was wet to the skin.

To him, she never looked more beautiful. “I do apologize for not noticing the turn in the weather,” he called out over the rain. Water dripped from her bonnet down the neckline of the dress and between her breasts. “I fear you might catch a chill.”

Instead of outrage, her eyes glowed with impishness. “How could you notice anything? You were otherwise occupied.”

All sorts of delicious memories followed her comment. “Most women would be upset to be caught in a storm, their coiffures and gowns ruined. Not my Sarah. You are unlike any other woman I’ve ever met.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she responded. “I do like to be incomparable.”

His bark of laughter startled the horse. He leaned to kiss her hard on the mouth then snapped the reins. “Sarah Palmer, you are definitely a cut above.”

* * *

T
he invitation came the next morning before the mail, having been hand delivered by a servant. Lord and Lady Ashwood, and little James, were coming to London for a few weeks, and Lady Seymour wanted her family all together, under one roof.

The excitement of the event spilled through the countess’s elaborate scrawl. Lady Seymour had to be giddy with the news. She spoke endlessly about her grandson, and now she’d have him for an extended stay.

Sarah placed a hand over her tumbling stomach. “The entire family? All staying at Harrington House?”

“My mother does like to trip over us all,” Gabriel replied from his seat at the breakfast table. He sipped his coffee. “I have not yet met my new nephew or seen my troublesome sister in five years. I wonder if age and motherhood have softened her.”

Troublesome? Lud. “I know the Harringtons can be devilish. How difficult is your sister?”

Gabriel cocked a brow. “Very.”

“Excellent.” She was finally getting used to the whirl that was her new family. In a few days she’d meet Gabriel’s sister. What if Brenna did not like her? It would certainly make for tense times around the Christmas goose.

“I see concern in your eyes,” Gabriel interjected. He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her down onto his lap. The maid hastily set the teapot on the table and scurried out of the room. “Brenna was a tyrant as a girl, bossy, demanding, and she had Simon and me all tangled up. We adore her, even if our actions did not always confirm that. After all, boys are expected to use toads and mice to torment their little sisters.”

Sarah wrapped her hands around his neck. “Come near me with a toad and I will never speak to you again. I cannot tolerate toads.”

He leaned to nuzzle her neck. “Brenna is as warm as she is prickly. If Noelle and Laura love you, she will, too.”

A short time later, in the privacy of their bedroom, Sarah still couldn’t quell the butterflies in her stomach. She was used to keeping her own company. Meeting the family a few at a time was challenging enough. Now she’d have to socialize with them all in one place?

Uneasiness filled her bones. Thank goodness for Noelle’s lessons. She would not shame her husband by calling Lord Ashwood Lord Ellerby, or by loudly slurping her soup.

She spent several hours tapping walls and finding no hidden panels. There were only a few rooms left unsearched. She decided to move to one of the guest bedrooms.

The workers were largely finished with the roof and would soon start on the ruined plaster and flooring where the rain still dripped through. Before long, her house would be finished. Eventually children would come and fill these empty rooms.

When her knuckles cried out for mercy, she stopped and slumped into the nearest chair.

That was where Noelle found her. Joining her was a woman with dark hair and Gabriel’s eyes. Her stomach dropped. Brenna.

Lady Seymour had not mentioned anything about the Ashwoods having already arrived in London!

“There you are,” Noelle said. She walked over and pulled Sarah from the chair. “The butler said you were up here rapping on walls. You realize your staff thinks you and Gabriel are a few steps away from Bedlam.”

Noelle hugged her. The color had returned to her cheeks, and although she was a bit thin, she was well on her way to full recovery. They pulled back.

“I care not what the staff believes as long as we find those documents,” Sarah said. “As for you, I thought you were not allowed out of bed.”

“The physician says I can go out twice a week for fresh air and a short carriage ride,” Noelle said. “Of course, my first outing was here. I have missed our lessons and plotting the downfall of spies with you.”

Tears pricked Sarah’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re getting well.” Her gaze dropped. “And the babe?”

“He, or she, is also thriving.” Noelle placed a hand over her stomach. “I think those weeks of pampering by his father and you have served us both splendidly.”

Sarah brushed away a tear. “I adore you both. I could not do anything less than see you recovered.”

Noelle hugged her again. “We must stop this lovey stuff lest we both start crying.” She turned Sarah around and led her to Brenna. “As you have probably presumed, this is Brenna, Lady Ashwood. Brenna, this is Sarah, beloved wife of your irrepressible brother.”

Brenna took her hand. “Mrs. Harrington.”

“Oh, please, it’s Sarah, Lady Ashwood.” Sarah drew back her hand and waited for the Lady to finish her perusal. “Only the servants call me Mrs. Harrington.”

Green eyes flashed with amusement. “I cannot believe Gabriel married. He swore from the time he was old enough to consider anything other than sticking spiders in my hair that he’d never marry. There were too many women in need of his attentions and he could never settle with one.”

On this, Sarah did not know how to respond. Annoyance flared. “All those women will have to live with their disappointment, for Gabriel is mine and will continue to be so until his last breath.”

Brenna laughed and glanced at Noelle. “You told me she was an ideal match for Gabe. At first blush, you appear correct.” She returned her attention to Sarah. “Welcome, Sister Sarah, and call me Brenna. May you always keep my brother hopping.”

The annoyance slowly drained from Sarah. Brenna had pricked her temper to gage her response. The chit. “Gabriel calls you a termagant. I suspect there is some truth in his statement.”

Eyes narrowing, Brenna shook her head. “With two older and horrid brothers, I had to learn to stick up for myself lest they tromp all over me.”

There was love in her exasperated expression. That was one emotion the Harringtons did not lack. They were a loving bunch.

It was Sarah’s turn to smile. “Gabriel can be difficult,” she agreed. “It is part of his charm.”

“I would appreciate you not rattling off my faults to my wife, Sister. It is difficult enough to keep her from discovering the truth beneath my outward perfection without your help.”

“Gabe!” Brenna fairly flew across the space and launched herself at her brother. He swung her up and around, placing a kiss on her cheek. When he put her down, she punched him on the arm. “It’s time you got yourself home.” She hugged him again. Then, “Arguing with only Simon has become a dreadful bore. I need you to make the next three weeks lively.”

He rubbed his arm and scowled. “I see you have not changed. You’re just as ill-tempered as ever.”

Brenna harrumphed and examined him thoroughly. “You have not avoided the sun, and you seem harder, older, no longer the pestering boy I remember.” She met his eyes. “However, I can still see mischief in you. If you are hiding a snake in your pocket, I will shoot you.”

“You are armed?” Gabriel asked, feigning fear.

“I am not, but I am certain Sarah can find me a pistol.”

Sarah nodded. She grinned at her husband. Gabriel sent her a scathing, yet playful, glare. Her heart warmed.

Gabriel and Brenna chatted about baby James, Lord Ashwood, and her life at Beckwith Hall. Sarah saw the happiness in her husband at the reunion with his sister.

Watching him made her heart flutter. She’d worked so hard to keep her emotions in check, trying mightily not to fall in love with her husband, but drat if she hadn’t done so.