My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) (10 page)

She hadn’t thought her sister would be so ill she would die before Sarah could give birth.

When Sarah returned to Staffordshire six months later, she carried a babe and the explanation that her sister had died in childbirth. No one questioned the validity of her story, nor her devotion to her nephew, a boy she claimed was named after his father.

The man who stood before her.

Gabriel would have no idea he had a bastard child. Perhaps there were others; Sarah hadn’t given it much thought. She hadn’t had time to dwell on such things. For upon Sarah’s return to the Spread Eagle, John Bristow announced his wife, Sally, was quite ill, and he needed Sarah to take over the day-to-day operations of the inn. Secretly glad to have the job – she had spent her entire life savings and was living on some coins she had found hidden in her late sister’s treasure box – Sarah accepted the position and immediately got to work seeing to it the coaching inn was stocked and staffed for what would be a busy spring and an even busier, she hoped, summer.

“I am,” the earl answered with a nod. “Thank you for asking.” He took a breath and let it out. “I was wondering if you ... if we might take a few minutes to ... talk,” he stammered, realizing he was wholly unprepared for making the request of her.

Who else would he go to, though? When word had reached him that his first mistress had quit him because of his horrible kisses and other ... shortcomings ... in bed, he had dismissed the claims as those coming from a disgruntled, jealous woman. But then he overhead a chit saying something about his horrible kisses during a ball at the end of the Little Season, her words spoken as if they were repeated from someone who had said them whilst enjoying gossip in a Mayfair parlor.

Well, the only woman he had kissed during that Little Season – besides the one mistress – the others didn’t allow kissing – had been Lady Elizabeth Carlington. She was Lady Bostwick now, and the founder of her own charity. And she was rather famous for her openly affectionate relationship with her husband. If the gossip that surrounded that relationship was true, then it was Lady Elizabeth who had proposed to Viscount Bostwick rather than the other way around. And apparently on the same day she had demanded Gabriel take his leave of her – just as he was about to propose!

Sarah’s stomach clenched at the earl’s words.
Talk?
She rather doubted the man wanted to simply talk. He probably wanted a repeat of their last evening together, a night she had found rather exciting despite his horrible kisses. And licking. “I ... I suppose I can spare the time, my lord,” she replied with a nod, wondering where he was thinking the ‘conversation’ should take place. They couldn’t use her room – little Gabe would be napping for at least another hour. “Let’s get you settled into a room first,” she offered, brushing by him to get to the door. “I have a corner room ...” She spun around when his hand hooked into her elbow as she passed him. Startled when she suddenly found herself eye to eye with Gabriel Trenton, she let out a gasp. “My lord?”

“I only want to
talk
,” he stated emphatically, one eyebrow lifting, as if to add emphasis to his claim.

Sarah stared at him for only a moment. “The corner room has two chairs, my lord,” she stated, as if that was the only reason she mentioned the corner room.

Gabriel nodded. “Very well,” he said, moving to follow her as she took her leave of the small office. They climbed the stairs and made their way to the end of the hallway.

Sarah paused in front of a north-facing door and removed a key from her pocket. She used it to gain entry and then put the key back in the lock from the other side.

“Are you expecting someone to interrupt us?” he chided, surprised she would lock them into the room after he’d made it clear he only wanted to talk.

Shaking her head, Sarah sighed. “No, of course not, but ... it’s not really appropriate for me to be in a guest’s room,” she stammered, a blush coloring her face.

Gabriel regarded her for a moment. “Then think of me as a friend rather than a guest,” he suggested.

Stunned by his words, Sarah lifted her eyes to meet his. “A friend?” she repeated, sounding almost hopeful.

Grinning, Gabriel nodded. “I could use one right now.”

Sarah stared at Gabriel for a very long time before giving him a nod. “Friends, then,” she agreed.

Chapter 10

Julia Wonders about a Look

Julia slowly climbed the stairs to her bedchamber, lost in thought as she remembered what had happened toward the end of practicing the English Country Dance. Mr. Comber had suddenly paused, missing several steps as he stood staring at her. He had been just as lost in his own thoughts as she was right now. He had looked as if he ... as if he
adored
her. Or at least found her particularly pleasing to the eye. Or perhaps it was an expression of – could she dare to think it? –Lust!

Something deep inside her took a tumble, forcing her to stop in the middle of taking the next step up the stairs. She paused, allowing the sudden sensation to complete its pleasant gyration. Although she rather wished it would happen again, she found she couldn’t force it to do so, even when she thought of Mr. Comber thinking lustful thoughts of her.

Resuming her climb up the steps, Julia allowed a sigh of disappointment to escape.

He’s a groom
, she reminded herself.
Just a groom
.

Chapter 11

A Demonstration of the Art of Kissing

Sarah regarded the earl as he surveyed the corner room. “I realize you are used to something far more ...”

“This will do fine,” Gabriel replied, realizing the room was finer than he expected of the coaching inn. In fact, he had to give the chit a good deal of credit. The place was far cleaner and seemed a bit newer than when he was last here.

He motioned to the chairs Sarah had mentioned, intending for her to take one.

“Would you care for refreshment, my lord?” Sarah wondered, thinking he was probably thirsty from his travels.

Gabriel considered the question. “I left an ale at the bar, I’m afraid,” he said, wondering why his responses seemed so stilted. He had come here for the easy conversation and was instead finding it as difficult to converse as it would be in a
ton
ballroom.

Sarah opened the door and spoke to someone in the hall. When she turned around, she said, “I have a fresh one coming up now, my lord, along with our luncheon special.”

As if on cue, Gabriel’s stomach grumbled, reminding him he had ridden from Bilston without stopping to get to the inn. “Your service is appreciated, my lady,” he replied. “You will have luncheon with me, I hope. I insist,” he stated before Sarah could respond.

She considered his words. Demanding at first, and then hopeful, as if he expected her to decline the invitation. “Of course,” she said with a nod. “I would be honored.” She realized just then how he had addressed her.
My lady.
As if!

Returning to the door, she intercepted Margery as the young woman was about to make her way down from serving the fencers in the parlor. “Could you bring two luncheon specials, please?” she asked. “And, if you get a chance, could you check on ..?”

“I’ll see to the tot,” Margery said with a wave of hand. “Little flirt always makes my day, he does.”

Sarah gave the new barmaid a smile. “Mine, too. But he knows he has to or he won’t get fed,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She turned around to find the earl adjusting the position of the chairs so that the low table was between them. He waved at the chair closest to the door.

“Please, my lady,” he said as he moved to take the other.

Wondering what the earl had in mind with his conversation, Sarah took the proffered chair and settled herself, watching Gabriel as he did so. The man had matured far more than she would have expected given the amount of time that had passed since she last saw him. “The position of earl suits you,” she said, hoping to relax Gabriel. He seemed uncomfortable, and yet, so at home in the inn. How could that be?

Gabriel gave her a nod. “I find I like it, actually,” he replied. “More responsibility than I imagined, but nothing I can’t handle. I have a very devoted estate manager, a competent secretary, and enough money to do what needs to be done to keep everything in working order.”

Smiling, Sarah leaned forward. “And an heir on the way, perhaps?” From Gabriel’s sudden change of expression, Sarah realized she had erred in her assessment. “Forgive me,” she said quickly, knowing her face was blooming with color.

“An heir would require a wife, and at the moment, I am still not married,” Gabriel stated, his manner suggesting the lack of wife was a sore point. “Which is why ...”

“The daughter of the most powerful man in Parliament was already ...married?” she wondered, realizing too late she had interrupted the earl.
Damnation!
When he left her bedchamber the last time he was at the Spread Eagle, he had done so with the intention of courting and marrying the daughter of the most powerful lord in Parliament.

Apparently, he hadn’t accomplished what he set out to do.

Or perhaps he was in the process of courting. Sarah was about to apologize when Gabriel held up a hand.

“Not exactly, but she did, just a few days after I was ... going to propose,” he explained, hoping Sarah wouldn’t ask for more details.

“A duke proposed before you had a chance?”

Damn!
Didn’t news from London reach the inn? Or maybe if it did, it wasn’t of significance to those who populated the small village in which the inn resided. These people had their own lives, after all. Their own families and jobs and concerns. They probably didn’t care about the machinations of the
ton
in London. Gabriel stilled himself, realizing he was going to have to explain himself fully. “A viscount, actually.” He dared not tell her the chit had been the one to propose to the viscount.

Before Sarah could interrupt again, he held up a hand. “I am better off, I assure you,” he said with a degree of finality that suggested she should drop the subject.

Elizabeth Carlington would have been a handful, he had since learned. Not only because she ran her own charity, which saw to finding employment for wounded soldiers, but because she was quite in love with her husband.

George Bennett-Jones, Viscount Bostwick, was probably too accommodating when it came to his wife’s desires. At how many balls had the two of them been seen kissing? And not just in the gardens? And now that Lady Bostwick was probably about to bestow an heir on her husband, it seemed she was even more beholden to the man. Who would have figured the chit would turn out to be a wanton? Apparently there would be no mistresses in Viscount Bostwick’s future.

Although, at the moment, Gabriel thought perhaps a wanton wife would be a welcome addition to his household in Bilston. For a brief moment, he imagined Sarah in his bedchamber. In his bed, dressed in nothing more than the bed linens. He had to shake his head to clear the image from his head.

He told himself he was merely experiencing a dry spell in that he hadn’t bedded a woman since he gave up his mistresses in London. Trust, it seemed, had become more important than sexual intercourse. Who would have thought the Earl of Trenton would give up one of the perks of his position in the name of trust?

“It has come to my attention that I am lacking in certain skills,” Gabriel stated finally, his statement made just as Margery appeared at the door with a tray laden with their ales and luncheon. “When it comes to farming,” Gabriel added quickly, not sure how much of their conversation Margery had overheard while she was still in the hallway.

Understanding the reason for the earl’s comment, Sarah turned to Margery. “We’ve a rather important guest here today, Miss Fitzwilliam,” she said with a nod in Gabriel’s direction. “Gabriel Trenton, Earl of Trenton, will be spending the night here at the Spread Eagle. Do afford him every courtesy, won’t you?” she said as she introduced their visitor.

Margery gave the earl the best curtsy she could manage considering she carried a rather heavy tray. “Welcome, milord,” the barmaid offered, setting her tray down on the table and distributing the plates and glasses. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” she added as she took her tray, curtsied, and hurried out of the room.

Sarah followed the barmaid to the door and shut it, inserting the key and turning it before taking her seat across from the earl.

Gabriel, who stood upon the serving girl’s entrance, regarded Sarah as they both sat down. “You have a very ... polite staff,” he said with a nod. “Didn’t she used to work at an inn in Wolverhampton?” he wondered quietly, sure he had seen her before.

“I stole her away from the Black Horse, yes,” Sarah admitted, suddenly wondering if the earl had bedded Margery.

“I never bedded her,” Gabriel stated then, as if he could read Sarah’s thoughts.

Sarah’s eyebrows danced, as if she was trying to decide how to respond to the earl’s statement. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

“Which is part of why I am here,” Gabriel continued, realizing he had the perfect introduction to his problem. “You see, I have been told I am a horrible kisser.”

About to take a bite of kidney pie, Sarah stopped her fork in mid-air and stared at the earl. “Someone told you that?” she asked in surprise.
Who would dare tell an earl he was a horrible kisser?

Gabriel shook his head. “I ... I haven’t been told
directly
, but I’ve heard the gossip. Tell me truly, Sarah. How did you find my kissing?” he asked then, his cocked eyebrows suggesting he was expecting her to give him an honest assessment of his skills in the art of kissing. Or lack thereof.

“I ... Well ... ” Sarah struggled with how to answer. The earl was a guest in her inn! She dared not offend the man! But he was, by all accounts, a very poor kisser. Not that Sarah had much experience in the matter, for she did not. But from what she’d been led to believe, kissing was supposed to be a pleasant experience.

“I asked for an honest assessment,” Gabriel stated firmly, wanting Sarah to understand he was aware of the gossip that suggested he was a horrible kisser.

“You are a horrible kisser,” she agreed with a nod and her most sympathetic expression. “A bit too much ... moisture and ...noise ... although, I certainly appreciated your enthusiasm. But not the licking ...” She shook her head. “Wrong place, wrong time,” she finished, closing her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to witness the earl’s wrath. “Although, it would have been appreciated somewhere else,” she added suddenly, opening one eye, as if she was peeking.

Gabriel Trenton stared at his hostess, finding her antics rather entertaining, even though they were at his expense. And, although her words did sting a bit, he found he rather liked how she was so forthcoming with her critique.  “I want you to teach me how to kiss,” he said before taking a long draught of his ale.

Sarah stared at Gabriel, so surprised by his request that she didn’t have an answer for him.

At least, not right away.

She took a draught of her own ale, which left a bit of a foam mustache on her upper lip. She licked it away before saying, “And, what makes you think I am accomplished enough in the art of kissing to ... to teach it?” she wondered in a quiet voice. She forced herself to begin eating, thinking it would be good to get some nourishment if she was to spend the rest of the day kissing the earl.

Gabriel gave her response a good deal of thought before he finally shook his head. “I don’t know. But I remember enjoying your kisses when I was last here, so I think you are more skilled at it than I am,” he answered with a firm nod before taking a bite of his pie.

Setting down her ale, more because she was afraid she might down the rest of the pint in a single gulp than because she suddenly wasn’t thirsty, Sarah regarded the earl in surprise. “How much time do I have?” she asked, thinking that if they started now, she might be able to teach him given a week or more. She ate a sliced strawberry, barely noticing the cream topping.

“Tonight,” Gabriel answered with a shrug. “I was hoping to return to Bilston on the morrow. The crops are about to be planted,” he added, as if that was enough to explain his hurry.

“Oh,” Sarah responded, realizing she sounded rather breathless just then. Breathless and wondering what crops he referred to with his comment. “Then I accept your challenge, my lord,” she said with a nod.

“Gabriel,” he stated suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” Sarah replied, not sure why the earl had said his given name.

“Gabriel. You’re to call me ‘Gabriel’ for the remainder of the evening,” he ordered. “Since we’ll be ... kissing ... a great deal, I think it more appropriate we call each other by our given names,” he explained, his head bobbing up and down.

Sarah could swear the earl’s breathing had increased in frequency, probably due to his anticipation of being kissed. Her breaths were certainly coming faster than they had been a moment ago. “Gabriel,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She had to put out of her mind that Gabriel was the name of her son, the baby she had borne because of this man. The baby who sported the same blond curls and blue, blue eyes this man displayed all the time.
Blue eyes I could drown in
, she thought just then.
Did drown in.

Sarah hadn’t realized she was standing – she couldn’t remember having stood up from her chair – but she was suddenly in front of the earl, her head tilted up and her mouth slightly open. “Touch your lips to mine, but do nothing else,” she ordered quietly.

Gabriel took a breath and then lowered his mouth to hers. Sarah pressed her lips against the warm, soft lips of the earl and suckled them lightly as one of her hands went to the side of his face.

When Gabriel tried to press harder, Sarah pulled away. “I said nothing else,” she warned, before leaning in so that her lips touched his again.

This time, Gabriel complied, allowing Sarah to take the lead in the kiss. She angled her head to her right while guiding Gabriel’s to tilt to his right by pressing her hand against his cheek. When she started the slight suckling, Gabriel followed suit. A moment later, she reached up with her other hand to place it against the side of his neck.

Unsure of what he was supposed to do, Gabriel placed one of his hands at the back of her waist and was about to pull her against the front of his body when he sensed her suddenly tense. He relaxed his hold, moving his hand to the side of her waist.

Sarah smiled against his lips. “The next time you do that, I will allow it,” she murmured, recapturing his lips with hers and angling her head in the other direction. This time, Gabriel followed easily, wondering at how their lips seemed to suit so well, how they fit together as if they had been molded to do so. When he felt the tip of her tongue on his teeth, he opened his mouth wider, allowing Sarah to explore his mouth with her tongue. His own tongue tangled with hers, but he was careful to allow her the lead. She tasted of the strawberries and cream from their luncheon, sweet and tart and rich. And then, quite suddenly, she pulled her tongue away while her arms wrapped around his neck.

Gabriel was quite sure he’d heard a moan emanate from her, but he thought perhaps it might have been him making the sound. He found he was enjoying the kissing far more than he imagined he would. Why hadn’t his mistresses taught him how to do this? And why had Missy Litchfield licked him on the cheek after his first kiss in her father’s barn? Sarah hadn’t licked him, and from what she’d said earlier, he rather doubted she would.

Wondering if he should try with Sarah what she had just done to him, Gabriel slowly touched the tip of his tongue against the bottom of Sarah’s front teeth, sliding it sideways. Although he felt her body tense, it was only a moment before he felt her body nearly fall against the front of his. Realizing he had missed his cue, Gabriel moved his hand to the back of her waist and pulled her forward. This time, she did not protest, and he could swear she made that moaning sound again. But he had to breathe.