The Seduction of Sarah Marks (2 page)

Chapter Two

From inside the carriage, Eastleigh scanned plowed fields bursting with the promise of spring. A dull beat at the base of his skull told him another megrim was about to roll through his head like a thundering herd of horses. He took in a long, slow breath and counted down from ten on the exhale, as he’d been taught.

What the devil had he been thinking leaving Easton Park? He had no business traveling even five miles from home, let alone trying to tour the Continent for three months with the idea of bringing home a bride. And painful as it was to admit, he was not ready to take on a wife, after all. Blast it all, Doctor Hemphill had been right. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Now he had to return home as quickly as possible and deliver the doctor yet another patient. “I am fully aware this might well be the worst day of your life—”

“That, sir, I would hardly know,” she interrupted softly.

“Your pardon.” He ran a sweaty palm down the side of his leg. Damn the headache. Another breath, another count of ten. No, he should never have left home. But he had to hold himself together at all costs. The responsibility sitting before him wouldn’t know the first thing about getting them to Kent if he sickened. “Madam, I know what it is to awaken not knowing anything with regard to one’s self. If you wish for no conversation, we shall have none, and I shall leave you to yourself for the duration, or we can muddle through this together. Lord knows, I’m giving it my best.”

Fringed lids closed over those great blue eyes, and her head fell back against the squabs. A tear trickled from one eye and trailed into her hair. He checked an urge to reach over and wipe it away—along with her pain. Instead, he fished inside his coat pocket, retrieved a handkerchief, and gently tucked it in her hand.

She pressed the square of cloth to her temple and looked again out the window. “Do you know the road from here?”

“Not as yet, but I’m told we’ll turn onto a main highway near noon. I know that particular route well.”

“Will we reach your home today?”

“Hardly,” he responded. “We’ve a two-day ride, but there are far better inns ahead.”

“I refuse to be Lady Eastleigh tonight.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle. “You’ll become my youngest sister, Rose.”

“We shan’t share the same room.”

He lifted a brow. “And if there is only one available?”

She said nothing but overtly perused the interior of the carriage.

He patted the hard seat. “Indeed. This will serve, if necessary.”

“Rose lives with you?”

“No.”

Her chin lifted. “Is there a Lady Eastleigh at home?”

“God, no!” He nearly laughed. “Mum will act as chaperone.”

She went back to staring out the window.

Lord, but even under duress, she was a lovely sight. “I should warn you of my family before we arrive.”

“Warn me?”

Good, he’d managed to distract her from her predicament. He grinned. “Everyone should have fair warning of the Malverns.”

She tilted her pretty head. “Tell me of your parents.”

Oh, wouldn’t he like to pull her onto his lap and murmur his response in her ear? “Father’s illness confines him and my mother to their estate, which lies an hour north of mine. Mum, who lives with me, is actually my grandmother. Mum is…that is—” Devil take it, he sounded like a schoolboy.

“She raised you?”

He laughed outright. “Isn’t that a rich thought, but no. Mum is a bit…shall we say…” He scratched his head. “We aren’t quite sure whether it’s her age or the gin she tipples, but suffice it to say, her memory isn’t much better than yours.”

When her cheeks flushed, he could have kicked himself. “Sorry, ghastly turn of words.” Bloody hell, where was her sense of humor? She’d likely not had much to begin with, since an amnesiac’s personality rarely changed
.
“She’s called Mum, by the by, because she fancies herself the Queen Mother and thinks my mother to be the Queen. Whenever Mother visits, we refer to her as Your Majesty. Pacifies Mum, it does.”

He swallowed another chuckle. “When I sent a messenger to alert Doctor Hemphill, I also sent word to Mum. Hard to tell how you’ll be greeted.”

Slowly, she turned her head his way. “What an odd way of putting things.”

A corner of his mouth curled. “Isn’t it though, madam?”

She turned back to looking out the window.

They grew quiet for a long while, with only the rattle of chains and the grind of the wheels on the hard-packed road to keep them company.

Despite the dire circumstances under which they traveled, Eastleigh found himself once again occupied with the exquisite profile of the woman who called herself Sarah Marks.

Uncommonly refined for a country girl, she was. And prettier than anyone had a right to be, given the circumstances. Loose tendrils of flaxen hair framed a heart-shaped face one would expect to appear drawn. But she looked refreshed—and fragile as spun glass, yet pugnaciously strong.

Amazing.

“You stare at me, sir,” she said, without turning his way.

“My apologies.” Fighting an impulse to squirm, he rested his elbow against the window’s ledge and thumbed the edge of his broken tooth—an old habit he’d long ago given up trying to break. How could he not help but look at her? Bloody hell, despite her prim and perfunctory manner, she captivated him.

A thought struck him that there hadn’t been a mirror back at the inn. “Your eyes match your cape. Are you aware of their color, madam?”

She shrugged, her cornflower blue eyes reflecting the sunlight passing through the carriage. “I should care little about my looks, my lord, when I have more dire things to ponder.”

Blast his stupidity. “Of course, but since your eyes are striking enough to comment on, I thought you might like to know.”

“Oh.”

His gaze drifted to her pink mouth that formed a plump circle and had yet to return to its natural shape. Pure lust shot up from nowhere. Had they come together this morning under other circumstances, he would have found her kissable-looking lips irresistible. And in all likelihood, he’d have found a way to entice her into settling on his lap, where he would have entertained the both of them on this tedious journey.

Another turn of her head, and she spied where he stared. She let out a small gasp.

The wave of pleasure that had run through him at the sight of her sensuous lips evaporated like morning mist off a sunlit pond.

Bugger! He took to watching the spring flowers along the roadside and unobtrusively managed his breathing exercises. “Once again, my apologies. Although I have experience with amnesia, I’m finding it exceedingly difficult to deal with it in another.”

Thoughts of what he’d endured over his many months of recovery swept through him like an angry gale. He didn’t want those particular memories, thought he’d brushed them aside, but he found they only lay in hiding for as quickly as they could descend upon him. Damnation! He couldn’t get home soon enough. And blast it all, he’d even left his powders behind.

He searched for words to alleviate the uncomfortable silence. “Do not dwell on your situation or try to think beyond this moment or you’ll only buy yourself trouble.”

Pain washed across her countenance. He was right—she had been trying to make sense of things.

Her chin quivered until she set her mouth against it, but she said nothing. “You’ve been trying to imagine your future and you cannot.”

She gave a slight nod. “So it would seem.”

“Which is normal.” Good God, what had he got himself into?

“Normal?”

“You cannot project into the future because you have no memory of your past.”

She let out a burdened sigh and tucked a stray lock behind her ear with gloved fingers that had a tremble to them. “I do not understand.”

He had to keep her talking, keep her mind off her dilemma lest she panic. He leaned forward. “It’s impossible to imagine a future without using your past as reference, so you must live in the present until your memory returns. Actually, in the whole of my recovery, learning to exist in the moment turned out to be the most valuable thing I gleaned from my experience.”

He resisted a terrible urge to rest a comforting hand over hers. “Think on it—what do we really ever have but this moment?”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed. He offered her a small grin, pleased she made sense of what he tried to convey. “The physician who saw to my recovery has retired on a parcel of my land. I sent a courier ahead, so Doctor Hemphill awaits your arrival.”
And so does Mum, with whatever opinions she’ll have in the matter.

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck. “Perhaps I should be thanking the good Lord someone with knowledge of this condition rescued me, but I am too angry with Him at the moment.”

Guilt wound its way through Eastleigh. Had he never left home, this wouldn’t have happened—to him or to her. “Does that mean we might enjoy a truce?”

Her refined features took on even more softness. “Between you and me, at least.”

Something hitched low in his belly. He managed a smile, “Good,” and realized he’d also managed to dispense with the headache. He was pain free at the moment—except for the constant throbbing in his right leg, which he’d learned to live with—bloody swords. They should be outlawed in battle.

…

She studied him for a long moment. “You may call me Miss Marks.” She clasped her gloved hands tightly together. “I presume I’m unmarried since I wear no ring.” Oh, dear, she was back to thinking of her predicament
.
“Or was one taken from me in the robbery?”

He shook his head. “They took a pair of ear bobs from you is all.”

“Of any worth, could you tell?”

“Not much, I would suspect.” He offered her a bit of a smile and then propped his elbow on the window sill.

My, but he was handsome—and growing more so with every passing hour. His upper teeth were white and even, except for a small triangular chip where a front tooth butted against the other. A small scar ran alongside his upper cheek. She regarded his supple fingers while his thumb fiddled at that broken tooth, something she’d seen him do often during the ride.

When he caught her staring, he dropped his hand. “For what it’s worth, madam—”

“Miss Marks.”

He shifted in his seat and frowned. “I shall call you madam until I have grown used to the other.”

Her heart went to galloping again. Lord, she had to take her mind off her predicament if her sanity was to remain intact. She took in a slow breath and exhaled just as slowly. “Tell me of your siblings.”

He nodded, seeming more at ease with this question. “I’m the first of four sons and four daughters.”

“Your rank? Certainly not a duke if your father remains alive.”

His eyes sparkled whenever he smiled. “Ah, a knowledge of ranking. You see? Your memory will trickle in as it chooses. I am merely a viscount. My father is an earl.”

“Tell me of your four sisters.”

He was playing with that broken tooth again. “Perhaps there are only three. We aren’t certain at times.” When her brow rose, he laughed. “Willamette came along smack in the middle of a raucous bunch of boys. Being profoundly stubborn, she insisted on dressing and acting like her brothers and does so to this day.”

“Oh, my.”

“Mother claimed the name Willamette, shortened to Will by her brothers, did the deed, so my other sisters were named after flowers—Rose, Iris, and Violet.”

Sarah fought to recall if she had any siblings.

Nothing.

Frustrated, she heaved a sigh.

Eastleigh leaned forward. She caught his scent. Familiar, but of what, she couldn’t put to tangible thought. His hand covered hers. The heat emanating from his fingers went right through her. She tried to pull away, but he held her steady.

And as if in defiance, he leaned even closer. “You are here, as am I, as is John Coachman,” he said in a low, commanding voice. “As are the flowers beside the road, the blue sky overhead.”

His scent and the intimacy of his hands upon hers sent another shockwave through her.

“Here and now is truly your only world, madam, as much as it is my only world, with or without our memories intact. Will you send yourself to Bedlam trying to recollect your past and worry over your future? Perhaps you might try trusting that I know of what I speak and force your thoughts to remain in the present.”

“You’re right, of course.” Oh, she had to exercise a little faith that somehow this would all be set to rights, or she would surely fall apart. Her hand beneath his relaxed. “Thank heavens it was you that I ended up with in this miserable condition.”

He let go of her and leaned back, regarding her through heavy lids. “Pray, tell me more.”

Those velvet-edged words may as well have been his fingers trailing over her tingling breasts and settling beneath her skirts. God help her if keeping her mind in the moment meant focusing on him.

Chapter Three

When the flavor of beef and fresh vegetables stewed in herbs burst in Sarah’s mouth, a small moan escaped her lips, despite the impropriety. “Lord, thank the cook.”

“And the innkeeper,” Eastleigh responded.

They’d barely secured the last two rooms when the skies poured forth a deluge. She and Eastleigh sat at a table in the dining room, close to the fire. The warmth, the crackling of wood, comforted her amidst the raucous thunder. She’d already inspected her chamber, much to Eastleigh’s humor. How consoling to know hers was fit for a well-bred traveler. She
was
well-bred, wasn’t she? How otherwise would her sensibilities have been so knocked about?

Eastleigh studied her with an odd demeanor. Her heart missed a beat. She dismissed the way her toes curled at his regard, or how the air fairly quivered between them.

She shifted in her chair. “Will you dispense letters on my behalf when we arrive, Lord Eastleigh?”

“Indeed.”

“Will you leave no stone unturned?”

That queer expression fell across his face again. “God knows, I am excruciatingly aware of your quandary, and I shall do all I can to help you find your place in the world.”

An unidentifiable sensation wended through her. Strange the way he said that, as if his meaning went beyond his spoken words.

She searched for another topic of conversation. “Do you seek a wife?”

…

“No.” God, that had been foremost in his mind when he’d set out on this journey. He’d fully expected to be gone three months, return from the Continent with a wife in hand, and surprise his meddling family, who’d constantly nagged him about his bachelorhood. After living alone on his estate with only a daft grandmother for company, lonely had become an understatement. But he’d needed time to heal from his war injuries, not to mention he could no longer tolerate the cacophony of London, or the shallow debutantes. Not after the brutalities of war. When he’d left home, he’d told no one but Hemphill of his plans to marry. Oh, wouldn’t the good doctor greet him with a relentless, “I told you so,” every time he looked his way? Just as Hemphill had foretold, Eastleigh was in no way ready to traipse all over the Continent.

His thoughts returned to Sarah. Firelight danced across her petal-soft skin and cast golden glints in hair that framed her face like a halo. Lovely, she was. And he wanted her. Those beautiful eyes, bold and without guile, and that delicious, little mouth of hers parted, as if ripe for a kiss. She wet her lower lip with a slide of her tongue. He was going to have to bide his time, allow her to heal until hopefully, he could claim her as his in every sense of the word. Sweet Christ, now his loins ached. “Enough of this talking of me.”

She set her fork to her plate. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a discussion if we engaged in patter about me, now would it?”

“Beg pardon.” If her situation weren’t so deplorable, he could have laughed at her acerbic remark. “I suppose we could speak of the weather.”

“Indeed.” Her chin hiked. “Dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Now wasn’t that a long and worthy conversation?”

Her lips pursed.

“Why, madam, I do believe you fight a smile.” When she said nothing, he lifted a brow. “It wouldn’t hurt to let that grin take hold and see what comes of it. Providing you don’t think me impertinent for suggesting you do something so outrageous under such serious circumstances.”

She paused, regarding him again in that comely, frank way with her lips barely parted. And then it was as if the world shifted. She smiled—not only with her mouth, but from her eyes and by the bare bend of her head.

Beautiful.

His groin tightened. Damnable cock. Had a mind of its own, it did. He signaled for the waitress. “Would you care for something sweet to end your meal, madam? A tart, perhaps?”

“Only if sent to my room. Apple, if they have it.” She set her fork and knife on her plate in a precise manner that indicated she’d completed her meal. The lady knew high manners.

He gave a nod to the innkeeper’s daughter. “Make that two, each to our respective rooms.”

They settled into a comfortable silence before the fire, although he fought glancing at her every chance he got. Was it the good food and ale, the decent lodgings, that did things to his mind or was she growing more enticing by the hour?

With her head held in a dignified manner, she surreptitiously perused the dining room. “I hadn’t thought of this until now, and it’s certainly none of my concern, but how do you intend to pay for all this?”

“A gentleman’s word goes far. The courier I sent ahead will see to my debts on his return.”

“What if he pockets the lot?”

“I’ll have his bloody arse…I’ll have his neck.”

She acted as if he hadn’t spoken, but there went her pursed lips again.

He chuckled. “Ah, don’t fight that grin. However, I do apologize for my
faux pas
.” He paused. What the hell, he may as well say it. “It seems you’ve been privy to crude language at one time or another.”

“Indeed. I used to take my father’s horses to be shod, and whenever the smithy got hold of a stubborn one, he’d use the most vile of words—” Her jaw dropped. “Oh, my. That bit of memory flew in from nowhere.” She rubbed at her temples “But the rest…it went out like the wind.” Tears flooded her eyes. “Can’t seem to recall anything else.”

Eastleigh reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Give it up. And for pity’s sake, don’t let it sink you.”

She nodded, slid her hand out from under his, and blinked away tears.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it across the table. “You cannot judge your progress by these kinds of moments.”

She discreetly wiped a corner of her eye with the white fabric.

Not knowing what else to do, he raked his fingers through his hair. “When I returned from the Crimean Peninsula, I had no idea who I was, didn’t recall a single family member, nor my surroundings. Yet, I went directly to the piano and played. I found solace in spending hours there. My memory returned in pieces. One day I recalled how I had detested learning to play, swore I would burn the blasted instrument for firewood, given the chance. Who would have guessed the thing I disliked most would become my saving grace?”

Sarah laughed—a small tinkle of laughter that could have been a piano’s top keys trilling.

He smiled. She was probably unaware that she took in several quick breaths while her luminous blue gaze fixed on his. Certainly she was unaware of what the rise and fall of her breasts did to him.

“You’re a complicated man, I would suspect.”

There went his body again—overreacting to his mind’s risqué fantasy. “Let’s get you upstairs. I’ve arranged a little something for your pleasure.”
But not that kind of pleasure, damn it.
He stood, gave her his arm, and they exited the dining room.

As they neared the stairs, the front door crashed open, and a young couple, she with a babe in arms, rushed in. Bitter cold swept the space before the innkeeper slammed the door shut against the biting wind. The man looked to the innkeeper while shaking off the wet. “Devil of a storm. Not fit for mankind to get caught in.”

The woman, impossibly young and with her hair plastered to her head, shivered and held her babe, blankets dripping, close to her chest.

“Oh, dear,” Sarah murmured.

Without a word, Eastleigh escorted her up the stairs and to her room. Retrieving a key from his pocket, he handed it to her. “Lock yourself in when I’m gone in case there are strangers wandering about.”

He swung open the door.

At the sight of a small bathing tub in front of a roaring fire, she beamed, the smile brightening her features like a lit candle. “How thoughtful. Have you done the same for yourself?”

“Indeed. Since yesterday’s folly and today’s long ride left a bit of grit behind my ears, we’ll likely lounge in our respective tubs at the same time.” Oh, hell, her spine stiffened again. Was a discussion indicating nakedness even too intimate for her?

A pounding of feet on the stairs caught his attention. The innkeeper bounded toward them, his generous belly bouncing beneath his stained apron. “A word, Lord Eastleigh.”

“What is it?”

The innkeeper wrung his hands. “The young couple, sir. They have a babe, and I have no rooms available.”

Foreboding sluiced through Eastleigh’s veins. “What could this possibly have to do with me?”

“Well, sir…I…ah. With you being a gentleman and all, could you find fit to give up your room so as not to put a family out in the cold? Your sister is in the largest room with the biggest bed. Ample enough to share, sir.”

Sarah gasped. “Do something, Eastleigh.” And then, as if she’d recovered from the idea of sharing a room and fully realized the situation, she calmed. “Mother would have our necks if she learnt we’d left those poor people to wander about in a storm.”

Oh, hell.
Eastleigh slapped his key into the innkeeper’s hand.

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Might they be without adequate funds? The babe’s blankets appeared rather threadbare, and if I’m not mistaken, the couple seemed a bit hollow in the cheek.”

Eastleigh leaned back on his heels. Well, if that didn’t take some keen assessment whilst traipsing past the couple for mere seconds. “Accommodate the family in the dining room, as well, sir. And leave the charges to me. Good eve.”

The innkeeper’s head bobbed in a series of nods as he backed away. “Very kind of you, your lordship.” He turned and hurried down the steps.

Eastleigh set his hand to Sarah’s back and ushered her into the room.

Her gaze settled on the large bed in the center of the room. Blotches colored her cheeks. “Oh, dear. I…I don’t believe I can—”

“Take your bath when the water is delivered,” he snapped, and stepping to the four-poster, he ran his fingers across the soft comforter turned down to expose crisp linens. “Then climb into your nice, clean bed.”

Another thought of the tub next door—in the room that should have been his—soured his disposition. That tell-tale throb started at the base of his skull.

“I’ll be downstairs drowning any expectations of my own warm bath and soft bed in what I hope is decent whisky.”
As well as drowning a few damnable thoughts of you.
“When the innkeeper thinks I’m sotted, I’ll make my way to the privy and then stumble into the carriage with an excuse that I was too sauced to find my way back. Good night.”

He turned to leave and nearly ran into a chambermaid carrying the warm tarts. Stepping aside, he caught the sweet scent of cooked apples and cinnamon as she passed by. Setting his jaw, he headed for the stairs and tossed his curt words over his shoulder. “Give both to my sister. She’ll appreciate having my share.”

…

While one chambermaid helped relieve Sarah of her clothing, two others filled the tub sitting next to the cozy fire with water hot enough to send steam spiraling in the air. It wasn’t a small amount of guilt that plagued her every time lightning lit the sky or thunder rattled the windows. Well, the carriage shouldn’t leak, so why concern herself with Eastleigh’s well-being? Still, he was out there in the cold, and she was in here—warm and toasty.

“’Tis a new bed, milady,” the maid proudly announced and ran a hand across the floral counterpane that matched the curtains.

More guilt traipsed through Sarah’s bones. She bit her lip. They’d shared a bed once, hadn’t they?

“Right proud of it, Mrs. Whistlethorpe is. Bedding is brand new as well. The Missus sent in a nightrail. Ain’t fancy like yer probably used to, and much larger than befits your slim frame, but ‘tis clean. We surely hope you have a nice bath and pleasant sleep.”

Sarah silently groaned. Well, it simply wouldn’t do to have Eastleigh in here. It wouldn’t.

“Pardon me, milady, but yer brother sure turned out to be a fine-looking gent.”

The others tittered.

Startled, Sarah glanced over her shoulder at the gray-haired maid working the laces on her corset. “You know Lord Eastleigh?”

“Only in passing, milady. Don’t know if you recall, but years ago, your family stopped in once or twice on yer way to the sea, but can’t rightly say as I can form a picture of you amongst them.”

Sarah’s insides trembled at the idea of being found out. “I…I’m the youngest. ‘Tis said I’ve changed a great deal.”

“Aye. Don’t no one recognize me from me youth, neither.” The maid laughed. “Had all me teeth back then fer one thing.”

Sarah’s spine went ramrod straight. This was an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having with anyone, let alone a servant. Something akin to gloom washed through her. What in heaven’s name had her life been like if servants were not to be spoken to? Still, she didn’t know quite what to say. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see to my bath alone.”

The air crackled with sudden silence. Only the rain battering the window could be heard.

Oh, dear. “Beg your pardon, but I am used to my privacy. I did not intend to appear rude.”

“As you wish, but would you like me to tend to yer hair first?”

And with that, Sarah realized how utterly fatigued she was. “That would be wonderful. If there’s an inch layer of dirt residing on my scalp, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

With an easy grin that exposed the many gaps in her teeth, the maid pulled a footstool over to the highest end of the tin tub. “If’n ye’ll lean back here, my lady, I’ll see to yer hair and then have the water freshened so you don’t have to bathe in soap scum.”

Sarah sat as instructed and reached for the pins in her hair. The maid shook her head. “Leave that to me, my lady. Ye’ve shadows under yer eyes, so if’n ye’ll close them, I’ll see to the rest.”

Just the gentle act of setting her long hair free was soothing in itself, but when warm water washed through it, and strong fingers massaged chamomile soap throughout, Sarah could have moaned aloud. She sighed instead and let her mind wander.

“I’m curious about something. When my brother and I arrived, and while he instructed the hostler, I noticed a rather unusual looking dog with a litter of pups just around the side of the stable.”