Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) (24 page)

Nick nodded. "Do it then."

"Nick," Sarah gasped. "You truly want to marry me?"

His smile was dark and sensuous. "Don't you think that we should after . . ." His voice trailed off and he watched her cheeks turn pink.

"I love you," she said softly, not caring that two others were witness to her declaration.

Nick brushed a fleeting kiss against her forehead. "And within just a few hours, you are going to be my wife."

"Gentlemen." His arm remained possessively clamped around Sarah's waist. "As you can see, both the lady and I are more than ready. So Webster, if you would see to the arrangements I would appreciate your haste in the matter."

Webster beamed. "It shall be done immediately. And may I be the first to offer my congratulations?"

"Just see to it," Nick said pleasantly.

Sarah watched in amazement as Danvers's smile fled. "You would really marry her?" he questioned.

"Without a second's hesitation," Nick declared solemnly.

Danvers's eyes glinted with frustration. "Then you will have fulfilled the conditions of the codicil and after the ceremony, Beaumont Shipping will belong to you again."

Nick released his grip on Sarah and moved to open the door. "There was never any doubt in my mind. Gentlemen, I bid you a good day," he replied easily as the attorneys departed.

For Sarah, the afternoon passed in a haze. Nick had offered to send for Charlotte, but her conscience would not allow it. The storm was too fierce to make Charlotte venture out for the sake of a new dress. Giving a shrug of his shoulders, Nick had offered no other suggestions, but closeted himself in his study declaring he had much that demanded his attention.

Sarah bathed, then stood in her shift as she pondered what to wear to her wedding. Her nerves jangled and her fingers trembled as she contemplated the possibilities. The sapphire gown she had worn to Julie Carlson's wedding seemed the perfect choice, but it, along with the rest of her clothing, was still at Agatha's. Rain beat in torrents against her window, and Sarah knew she could not ask one of the servants to fetch it for her. Besides, she thought, mourning for Agatha dictated she wear black.

Pushing aside her disappointment, Sarah quickly donned her black velvet skirt and jacket. "I'm getting married," she hummed, to restore her good mood. Nick's bracelet slipped around her wrist and for the first time she didn't tuck it under her sleeve. She brushed her hair until it glistened in the candlelight, then perched on the corner of her bed to wait.

Sarah clung to the window strap to brace herself as the carriage bumped down the road toward home. Rain continued to drench the countryside making the roads slick and travel difficult. How strange, she thought as the carriage tipped and swayed. There had been no guests, only Webster and his wife and Michael Danvers to act as witnesses. The minister had read his piece and she and Nick had repeated their vows. A plain gold band was slipped on her finger, then it was over. There was no wedding supper to share in camaraderie with friends, or even a cake to mark the occasion. They had signed the minister's documents and then, after hasty words of congratulations, Nick had bustled her back into the carriage.

In the faint light of the lantern, Sarah could see his features as he sat opposite her on the seat. His arms were folded over his chest and his smile had long since disappeared. She ached to crawl onto his lap and share his warmth, for she felt chilled to the bone. But he made no overtures and she was suddenly too shy to initiate them.
This isn't the way it's supposed to be
, she thought desperately as the carriage pulled to a stop.

Nick swung the carriage door open and stepped out then turned back to help her descend.

Sarah frowned with confusion as she looked up through the rain, for they stood at Agatha's front door.

"Why did we stop here?" She turned to Nick and found his features contorted with black rage. "What is wrong?"

Nick pulled his arm from her touch with a vicious jerk. "I thought you would like to spend the night in your new house. You certainly worked hard enough for it."

"What?" Sarah cried suddenly afraid as he towered over her.

Nick threw back his head and laughed ironically at the sky. Rain beat against his skin, and he reveled in the sting of it. "You got what you wanted," he shouted. "You wanted security, and you have it. Consider my grandmother's house yours. But as for me, and future funds, I'm afraid you and Danvers calculated wrongly. "You'll carry my name," he taunted, "but you'll not get so much as a good day from me in the future. And if you know what is good for you, I advise you to stay out of my sight."

Nick turned to go, but Sarah grabbed his arm. "I do not understand," she said, her voice quaking with fear. "It was your wish to be married."

Nick gave her a hard, appraising stare meant to humiliate, and it did. "A man will do a lot to get back what is his," he said quietly. "As to love, I think not. Get your friend Danvers to share your bed and keep you warm. You two deserve each other." His voice echoed his disgust.

"But I don't even know the man," Sarah cried as her tears mixed with the rain to wash down her face. "Why are you saying this?"

Nick reached into the carriage and plucked a thick gray envelope from the floor. "Here. He gave you this right after the ceremony. Did you think I didn't notice?" He jammed the paper into her hand. "We wouldn't want you to lose it. It might contain the time and place for your next meeting."

Sarah clutched the envelope and felt a sickening dread wash over her. "You don't love me? Her voice was barely a whisper, but Nick heard and shook his head.

"Did I ever say I did?" He watched her face pale. "I like my women to be women," his tone was insulting. "And I prefer experience to the fumbling of the inadequate."

"Then why did you take me?" came her anguished wail.

Nick shrugged and turned back to the carriage. "Because you offered," he replied easily. "What man wouldn't?" Then he was in the carriage and the door closed behind him.

Numb with shock, Sarah stood in the pouring rain until the carriage was out of sight, then, falling to her knees, she retched. An hour later, Luther found her huddled on the front step soaked to the skin and colder than ice. Her lips were blue and her eyes were wide and haunted. He tried to help her into the house, but it was difficult, for Sarah refused to allow anyone to get near to her.

Luther himself braved the storm to fetch Master Nick, but when he returned, he was alone. In strained silence Agatha's servants watched Sarah huddle in a corner. Through gentle coaxing they had convinced her to pull a blanket about her shoulder. But they could only stand by and watch as great tremors consumed her body.

The news spread quickly through the household. Miss Agatha had left all her money to Miss Sarah, and Master Nick had married her to get it back. They watched until Sarah finally collapsed completely, then it was Luther who gently carried her up to bed and Mrs. Hempsted who eased her out of her wet clothing.

"Something's not right here," Luther sighed as they closed the door to Sarah's room, leaving Tanzy to sit with her.

"I just can't imagine Master Nick doing something like this." Mrs. Hempsted's voice was thick with tears as they descended the stairs. "Doesn't he know how good she was to Miss Agatha?"

"I tried to tell him" Luther shook his head. "But all he's say was Miss Sarah owned this house now and he wanted no more to do with her."

"But he married her!"

Luther's tired head nodded. "That he did. But he sure don't want to see her."

"Luther, why do you think Miz Agatha did such a fool thing?"

Luther threaded his fingers through his wiry hair. "I sure don't know. I knew when she started having that Danvers person come to call she was up to no good. But I just can't believe that after all Miss Sarah did for her, she would wish her such heartache."

Mrs. Hempsted paused at the bottom step. "Once, when I was a young girl, I saw a master take after a slave with his whip. He like to slice the poor fool's skin clean off." She paused to look back up the stairs. "But you know, I still don't think I've ever seen a body hurt worse than Miss Sarah."

Luther placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and heaved another great sigh. "Miss Sarah is stronger than she looks. Maybe tomorrow when the storm is gone, things will seem brighter."

Lightning flashed and the house trembled in protest as the thunder crashed around them. Mrs. Hempsted shivered and, holding a hand to protect the candle's flame, turned to Luther. "Mayhap I should go back up and sit with her. There's no telling what she'll be like if the storm wakes her."

"Tanzy is with her."

"Tanzy is a sweet child, Luther, but she's got the sense of a nanny goat."

"Then we'll both sit with her." Lightning filled the foyer with its eerie light and Mrs. Hempsted paused.

"Luther, what do you think Miss Sarah is gonna do if she finds out we are married?" Luther gathered the cook's ample body close to his and pressed his face to her neck. She always smelled of vanilla and he'd loved her since the first day they had met. "Things will work out, my sweet, Miss Sarah is a good person. Despite what Master Nick says, we both know that."

Mrs. Hempsted trembled. "But Luther, Master Nick is so smart, what if he is right and we are wrong? Miss Agatha didn't care that I'm black and you're white, but Miss Sarah's from the North and she sure has some strange notions about things. What if she snitches on us? If it got out, there could be all kinds of trouble."

Luther had already considered that. "We're not going to say anything at all for a few days," he told her as they quietly climbed the stairs. "We'll wait until we see for ourselves what Miss Sarah is going to do, and then if the time is right, we'll tell her."

"And if the time isn't right?"

Luther pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. "Then we'll just leave."

Mrs. Hempsted dropped her head to her husband's chest. "But we've been here all our lives."

Luther rubbed his chin over the top of her bandana. "Nigh on to forty years." Lightning flashed again and thunder cracked so loudly they thought it surely had hit them. They broke apart as Tanzy flew out of the doorway.

"Miss Sarah is awake," she gasped, "and she says she's gotta go out She says it's matter of life and death and she's getting dressed."

Much to Tanzy's relief, Mrs. Hempsted brushed by her to hurry into the room.

Chapter Twenty –One

"Miss Sarah!" Mrs. Hempsted rushed into the room. "What are you doing, child? You need to be back in your bed."

Sarah turned and finished tying the drawstrings of her skirt. Her eyes were calm as she reached for the matching jacket. "Would you see if Luther is awake, Mrs. Hempsted. I need to go out."

"Luther is awake, Miss Sarah, but there's a terrible storm tonight. Why don't you just crawl back into bed? I'll fetch some nice hot bricks to warm your feet. And tomorrow, after a good night's sleep, if you still feel the need to go out, Luther will take you anywhere you want to go."

Luther entered the room as the thunder rumbled ominously and the windows rattled in their casings. "Miss Sarah, please." He stepped forward, but Sarah stepped back. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled on her slippers. "You don't want to see Master Nick tonight. It can wait for morning."

Her face grew paler than the sheets on which she sat, but her words were calm and sure. "Luther, Mr. Beaumont has nothing to do with this. Do you know where the Blanchard orchard is?"

Warily, the man nodded.

"Well I need to get there. Is it safe enough to take a wagon or should we walk?"

"Miss Sarah, why do you wanna go way out there at this time of night?" Mrs. Hempsted asked.

"Do you remember Gracie Richardson?" Sarah tucked her hair under her cap. "Well, she's out in that storm tonight with three young children. They live in a shack that Luther could topple with one good sneeze."

Mrs. Hempsted crossed herself. "Lord have mercy, what are we waiting for? Miss Sarah, you stay here. Let Luther and the men go fetch that woman and her kids."

Grateful for the help, Sarah tried to smile, but it wouldn't come. "I know where to look and Luther doesn't. I'll go with him. Mayhap you could warm up something hot for them to eat when we return?"

"Consider it done. Luther, you keep her out of the rain as much as possible." Mrs. Hempsted wagged a finger, for in truth Sarah looked frail enough to keel over at any moment. Understanding the silent command from his wife, Luther turned to take Sarah's arm.

Instinctively she stepped away. "Don't touch me Luther" Her skin was the color of parchment and her voice as cold as stone. "I don't want anyone to ever touch me again."

The two servants exchanged nervous glances, but Sarah had already left the room and Luther had no choice but to hurry after

Nearly three hours later, Luther stopped the wagon at Agatha's back door. Gracie Richardson tumbled out clutching little Jessie tightly, while Sarah helped Catherine and Jimmy. They were soaked to the skin, covered with mud but grateful to be alive. Luther led the sodden group into the back parlor where Ruby and Tanzy waited with a roaring fire and piles of warm blankets. Mrs. Hempsted ladled hot soup and Sarah helped Gracie get the children into dry clothing.

The shack had already started to collapse, Luther whispered to his wife. And it had been Sarah who had crawled in under the rubble to find them while he and the others kept the roof from falling completely.

Mrs. Hempsted took a hard look at his pale face. "It was close?" she asked.

Warm in his dry clothing and clutching a hot mug of cider, Luther shut his eyes. "I could hear the Lord clearing his throat to call my name. We no sooner got the last of them out and pulled Miss Sarah free when lightning struck and the whole thing went up in flames." Luther shuddered. "If Miss Sarah hadn't insisted we go and fetch them, those babies would be dead right now."

Mrs. Hempsted placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and looked over at Sarah. She looked pale as a ghost, and ready to drop, yet she still managed a soothing word to little Jessie as she combed the tangles from the child's hair. "There's something special about that girl, Luther. I can feel it in my bones."

Luther shifted ever so slightly so his shoulder pressed against his wife. "I feel it, too. And after tonight, I think things are going to work out for us just fine."

By morning the storm had run its course and Agatha Beaumont's grand house resembled an army barracks. The storm had been violent, just as Wadsworth had predicted. Trees had toppled and lightning fires had been plentiful. Houses in the south of town had been the hardest hit, and many of the shacks were no longer standing. Sarah offered the Beaumont house as shelter for any who needed it, and within hours, the place was filled with the laughter of children as they ran through the hallways. Tanzy and Ruby were detailed to entertain the younger ones, and Mrs. Hempsted accepted help in her cookhouse for the first time. When the sun broke through the clouds at midday, Luther and Sarah had organized the comings and goings, and plans were already underway for reconstruction.

As the hours passed, Luther waited patiently for Master Nick to arrive, for news of Miss Sarah's exploits were all over town. But the only knock that sounded at the grand oak door came from more poor folks looking for food and a place to stay for the night.

Charlotte Rousseau arrived the next morning, anxious to see if Catherine was all right, and when Jimmy recounted the story of their daring rescue, she felt herself grow faint.

"Miss Townsend is a hero, is she not?" Charlotte flopped on a chair and tried to calm her nerves.

Jimmy had scrunched up his face and rubbed his nose hard. "Well, her name is Mrs. Beaumont now, but I guess she's still a hero."

"Beaumont?" Charlotte stammered.

"Yep." Jimmy grinned. "You should have seen the mud. Miss Sarah had more on her than me and little Jessie combined."

Standing on legs that trembled, Charlotte thanked Jimmy and went in search of Sarah. She found her in the back, hanging blankets out to dry.

"
Chér amie
, whatever are you doing?" Charlotte asked, but as Sarah reached for another blanket, Charlotte took the other end in assistance without waiting for her answer.

"One of the babies was ill last night," she said easily. "And they are so busy inside . . ." Her words faded as she smoothed the blanket over the makeshift wire line Oscar had erected, then reached for another in the basket at her feet.

"So the lady of the house is reduced to doing the laundry?"

Sarah didn't smile. "It needs to be done," she said simply.

Charlotte stayed to help for several hours, amazed at the order Sarah had created amidst the chaos. She had learned by listening that Nick had indeed married Sarah, then in the middle of the storm, he had deposited her at his grandmother's house for the night. But what bothered her most was the cool indifference that etched Sarah's face. According to Tanzy, Miss Sarah barely slept and was running them ragged.
Oh, Nicholas
, Charlotte thought as her weary steps carried her back to her shop,
you are such a fool.

The storm was three days past when Nick looked up to find Christopher Carlson at the door to his study. They embraced silently in memory of Agatha, then Nick poured them each a drink.

"You look like hell," Chris said easily, enjoying the bite of the fiery liquid. He took in Nick's unshaven chin and the dark circles that lined his eyes. "Decided to grow a beard?"

Nick's face mirrored surprise as his hand touched his chin. "I've been busy," he said stiffly. "The storm caused a great deal of damage down at the docks."

Chris leaned back in his chair. "I can imagine. The roads are a mess. We left as soon as we heard about Agatha, but then the storm hit. More than once I thought we'd have to turn back. I tell you, friend, hell is being in a carriage with your mother and sister for three days."

Nick gave a weary grin. "You brought Julie with you?"

Chris groaned and poured himself another brandy. "Clarence Morgan has more success getting grass to grow than he does with my little sister. She's making them both miserable. Spends more time at our house than she does at her own. When she found out that Mother and I were coming to town, she threw a fit until Morgan sent her here with his blessings. I've decided to never forgive the man."

Nick shook his head and drained his glass. "Where are they now?"

"I secured rooms at the tavern and then dumped them both. I told them I was sure they wouldn't want you to see them looking like such hags from the travel," he said with a wink. "Julie immediately opted to take a nap. I think she's convinced herself that sleep will cure any ailment from a hangnail to crow's-feet."

Chris noted the way Nick's smile never reached his eyes and he downed the last of his brandy. "So, I hear that you and Sarah have married?"

Nick pulled up short. "How long have you been in town?"

Chris shrugged. "I can't say I'm surprised. Not after seeing you with her at Julie's wedding. But what does surprise me is that you're allowing her to live in a different house. I thought that the advantage of marriage," he teased, "was a permanent bed partner."

Nick rose and stood at the window, keeping his back to his friend. "I don't want to talk about her, I believed in her and she turned out to be no different from all the rest."

"The rest of what?" Chris questioned, suddenly afraid of where the conversation was going. "Sarah wasn't like anyone
I'd
ever met."

Nick turned back. His eyes were full of anger and regret. "She had Agatha rewrite her will. Gran left all her shares of Beaumont Shipping to Sarah."

"She did what?" Chris shot out of his chair.

"She persuaded Gran to leave everything to her," Nick said quietly, for the idea still gnawed at him. "While we were falling for Sarah's story, she was manipulating my grandmother."

"Damn . . ." Chris expelled a long breath. "I can't believe it. I was so taken by her."

"We all were." Nick's voice was tight. "I thought her the most generous, caring woman I had ever met."

"And instead she turns into a calculating bitch. Damn, I need another drink."

Nick turned back to gaze out the window. "Ruthless and selfish, just like my mother. Isn't that how the story goes? A man always wants a wife who's just like his mother. Well, I sure got one and I didn't even see it coming."

Christopher's eyes grew wide, for never had he heard Nick refer to his parents. He had no idea how to respond.

Nick turned from the window. His smile was ironic. "Have I rendered you speechless?"

Chris took another swallow of brandy. "You've never spoken of your parents before."

Nick shrugged. "They were never worthy of a memory. They still aren't."

"Then, damn it all, there must be a way to have your marriage dissolved."

Nick sat back at his desk and propped his chin on his hands. "And what would I say to the magistrate? Oh, excuse me, Your Excellency, but I married this girl to obtain the property she owns, and now that it belongs to me again, I'd like to return her. Well, yes, she is slightly used, but who's to know?"

Chris shook his head. "That makes you sound as calculating as Sarah."

Nick rose and began to pace. As calculating as Sarah, he thought. The words did not ring true. "There is something wrong here, Chris." His eyes darkened with painful memories. "When I think of my mother, even now I remember how utterly clever and vindictive she was. I can't call forth a single time with her that was pleasant. I can't remember one time when she put my needs before her own, or even remembered I existed."

Fascinated, Chris nodded and refilled his glass. "Go on."

"Well . . ." Nick paused and his expression grew lighter. "When I think of Sarah, the only memories I have are good ones. Just to look at her made your day brighter. She always had a smile or a kind word. And not just for me. Even Luther noticed it. He called her 'joyful.' "

"What are you trying to say?"

Nick continued to pace. "Chris, Sarah wasn't calculating. She couldn't even bring herself to tell that absurd story Gran made up about her being a friend of the family."

"Maybe that was when she was at her best. Maybe she was just pretending to be uncomfortable."

Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. Something's been there gnawing at the back of my mind since the beginning of this farce, but I've been too wrapped up in my own grief to think it through."

"What are you trying to say?" he asked again. "Do you think her innocent?"

Nick rubbed at his temples. "If Sarah had been living a lie all this time, there would have been some sign, no matter how small. There would still be some little thing that I could look back on and say,
yes I should have noticed that
." Nick's eyes were haunted when he turned back to his friend. "I can't find a single reason to call Sarah guilty."

Chris sipped the amber liquid and tried to puzzle through the facts. "Then you believe the kidnapping story? You don't think it was merely a hoax meant to gain your sympathy?"

Nick returned to sit behind his desk. "That's the one thing I'm sure of. She was half frozen and scared to death when Beckett found her. And I've seen her longing for her family in those private moments when she thought no one was about. No, Sarah Townsend was kidnapped from her home in Salem, of that I am sure."

Chris briskly rubbed his hands together. "I think we'd better get to the bottom of this, Nick, and soon." He paused in thought. "Something's very wrong here, and if what you think is true, there is going to be hell to pay."