The Seduction of Sarah Marks (4 page)

She shoved a lock of hair behind an ear, her eyes darting about the room as if in a panic.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“Well, you see, sir, I don’t quite have all my clothing by which to properly…”

He opened the door and a basket sat in front of it. He took it up and lifted a corner of the fabric. “These are yours, I take it?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, do put them down, you…you…”

He chuckled, set the basket inside the room, and made his exit.

…

When the door snicked shut, Sarah scrambled from the bed, turned the key in the lock, and went about getting dressed. How she had managed to sleep so well with him next to her was puzzling, but she felt fully rested and renewed. Well, she had been exhausted. And he’d confessed to extreme fatigue, so he must have slept soundly, as well.

Dressed, she made her way down to the dining room and to the same table from the night before. Eastleigh sat facing the fire, his back to the room. As if sensing her presence, he glanced over his shoulder. His gaze, dark and delicious, rolled over her, from the tips of her toes to her head and back again. A tingle ran up her spine and landed at her nape, raising the fine hairs there.
Heavens
.

“Good morning, brother.” She spoke loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, and slid into the chair across from him.

A corner of his mouth curled. “Good morning, Rose. Slept well, I suspect, seeing as how you didn’t even hear me leave the room.”

“Indeed,” she replied, snapping the serviette over her lap. “So very different from how we grew up when you and the rest of our brothers bounded down the corridor like noisy rapscallions.”

He grinned at his plate, muttered something she couldn’t make out, and stuffed the last of his eggs into his mouth.

The innkeeper’s wife approached and set a plate before Sarah filled with sausage, eggs, baked tomatoes, and beans. A crock of butter, a jar of marmalade, and a stack of toasted bread sat on the table between them.

Eastleigh placed his fork and knife on his plate, took a swig of coffee, and settled back in his chair. “Remember not to dawdle so we can make Mum’s high tea. But then, you would know that, wouldn’t you, Rose? You and Mum have always been so adamant about sharing your tea-time.”

She flashed him a hard glare. “I refuse to gobble my food, Eastleigh.”

He only grinned in response. And then, he watched every bite she slid into her mouth. After a while, his eyes took on an odd look she could’ve sworn was hunger. But that couldn’t be—he’d already eaten.

Chapter Five

By the time Sarah and Eastleigh exited the inn and reached the open carriage door, the pup Sarah had taken on was out of the basket and sprawled on the leather seat, a wet spot spreading over one end.

“What is
that
?” Eastleigh growled.

“A puppy. What does it look like?” She glanced over her shoulder at Mrs. Whistlethorpe, who stood in the doorway, looking harried. No sign of Mr. Whistlethorpe, thank heavens. “And would you please lower your voice, you’ll wake the world.”

He squinted. “Does that thing only have three legs?”

“So it would appear. Which is why I laid claim to it, lest it be cruelly murdered.”

“Well, you may not drag it along. I won’t have the flea-bit thing.”

Sarah’s heart sank to a new low. She swept the puppy into her arms. “I can and I will. It’s not flea-bit, and who are you to order me about?”

Eastleigh leaned forward and squinted into the carriage. “Bloody hell if it hasn’t piddled on the good leather.”

“Good leather? This is a rented carriage, for heaven’s sake.” She turned to the stable boy. “Could you please find a wet rag and clean off the bench?”

The boy looked to Eastleigh, who nodded. “You cannot keep the dog. I forbid it.”

Those very words—
I forbid
—gripped her. They were as familiar as the skin attached to her bones. Somehow she knew she’d been prohibited many things throughout her life—to the point of having to endure unending bleakness. “Since I shan’t remain with you very long, you will
not
be telling me what to do. I’ll have this dog and that’s that.”

She ignored him and urged the pup back into the basket. Calm as she tried to appear on the outside, her insides shook like a leaf in the wind.

Eastleigh hooked an arm over a corner of the carriage door and shoved a hand into his pocket. “Since I rented the carriage, I suspect I might have a say in things.”

“Fine. I shall remain here until my memory returns. I won’t be bullied, and I won’t have this dog’s fate left to your arrogance and conceit.”

He guffawed. “Remain here, at the inn? And do what? Live on air soup and rabbit track stew?”

“There’s a chamber maid who just left the innkeeper’s employ. I’ll see to being hired in her stead.”

“You are well bred, madam. You cannot possibly consider such a task. Now, please return the little beast from whence it came and join me in the carriage, or we will not make it to my home this day.”

She managed to get the puppy back into the wicker basket, and slipping the handle over her arm, used her other hand to hold the dog down. She stared squarely into Eastleigh’s eyes. “Then my upbringing will have educated me on what is expected of a maid, won’t it?”

With her heart in her throat, she turned on her heel and headed back to the inn, where Mrs. Whistlethorpe stood wringing her hands. “Oh, milady, if Mr. Whistlethorpe catches you with that runt, he’ll have my head.”

Eastleigh’s boots pounded the earth. He halted directly behind Sarah. “You can keep the blasted hound. Get in the carriage. Or will you have the rest of our brothers coming after you?”

She smiled at Mrs. Whistlethorpe. “I’ll be on my way then. Thank you for everything.” Without another word, she turned and marched back to the carriage.

Eastleigh took her elbow with one hand and reached for the basket with the other. “Give me the wretched beast whilst you get yourself inside.”

Sarah settled into the far side of the carriage. A sense of victory flooded her being when Eastleigh slid the basket over to her with a gentle push and climbed in opposite her.

By the time the carriage pulled out of the drive and lurched onto the road, the dog was already working its way out of the basket, whining and carrying on. Sarah sighed and lifted it belly-up into her arms. She cradled it like one would a babe and went about lightly scratching its tummy. This dog was important to her. Very important. Here was the only thing she could anchor herself in—the only thing to call her own at present.

To her surprise, the pup settled right down as if it had been delivered a drug. Within moments, its head lolled about and the tip of its little pink tongue hung out one side of its mouth. A bit of joyfulness settled in Sarah’s heart.

Eastleigh snorted. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

She wanted to laugh. With a purposeful glance at Eastleigh’s head, she said, “So it is. With its brown, curly hair, I see some resemblance.”

He was silent for a moment. “So did you choose it because it looked like me?” His voice had changed, grown husky in that manner that both thrilled and frightened her.

When she didn’t answer, he said, “What do you intend naming the thing? I can see it’s a she.”

Sarah thought for a moment, her fingers tracing little circles on the plump stomach. “I think I shall call her Daisy.”

Eastleigh jerked. “You cannot name her that.”

Sarah paused with her scratching and settled an angry gaze on Eastleigh. “There you go again, ordering me around. Something tells me I’ve been told what to do all my life, with no recourse but to comply, and here I am with you, a perfect stranger, trying to intimidate me and deliver imperatives.”

“Perfect strangers?” A corner of his mouth twitched. “Might I remind you, we’ve twice shared a bed.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That was low of you, Eastleigh. Very low.”

He looked out the window and thumbed at his tooth. “Indeed. I do apologize.” Nonetheless, his lips twitched.

“Then why don’t you look me in the eye and say it like you mean it?”

He failed to turn her way. “Perhaps, I don’t, then. Have it your way. Daisy it is.”

The carriage knocked along for hours, halting every so often for the puppy to relieve itself. When they reached another inn and stopped for lunch, Sarah slipped the basket over her arm and carried it to a far corner of the dining room. Tossing bits of meat inside kept the pup quiet. Once back in the conveyance, however, there was no settling Daisy down until she was well ensconced in Sarah’s lap.

Sarah dozed, and when she awoke, she found herself rolling along in an emerald green countryside. “Sheep,” she announced.

With a startled jerk of his head, Eastleigh opened his eyes and peered out the carriage window. He covered a yawn with the back of his hand. “Home at last. The longest three days of my life.”

What insolence
. “Are they your sheep, sir?”

With a nod, he straightened in the seat. “At least I enjoyed a decent room our last night on the road. Not to mention a much needed bath and shave.”

Heat pricked her cheeks at the idea of him naked in a bath, and in her bed
.
“So, this is all your land?”

“Indeed.” His mouth lifted at one corner, which Sarah doubted had little to do with her question and more to do with guessing why her cheeks flamed.

“How much?”

“As far as the eye can see.”

She caught sight of two ugly bronzed statues. They stood several feet apart and appeared to be misshapen back ends of horses facing the road. “What is
that
?”

“My cousin’s idea of a joke. He claims his creation is art and will shoot anyone attempting to remove them.”

“Why would you allow such an atrocity on your land?”

“Unfortunately, that little piece belongs to him.”

“I thought you said the land as far as the eye could see belonged to you.”

“Except for that fifteen-yard-wide strip he claims.”

“Obviously, a sore spot.” The carriage turned onto a long drive. Sarah caught sight of a grand entry flanked by two magnificent bronze statues of horses. She laughed. “Oh dear, that grotesque artwork back there has an odd resemblance to these two splendid ones.”

“As I said, my cousin has a wicked sense of humor.”

“Oh, do tell me the story.”

“What story?” Something akin to a warning that she may have crossed a proprietary line flashed in his sharp gaze.

His eyes were remarkable. They should be considered quite plain, as there was nothing notable about brown eyes, but they fairly sparkled when something tickled him and seemed to withdraw like a tortoise into a shell when perturbed. Guilt or embarrassment shone through like a lit torch. And there were times when he seemed lost in thought, which was when those eyes seemed to pierce her very soul and send odd sensations sailing through her.

She wasn’t about to back down from his current regard of her. “And if your cousin created his art, then who created yours?”

“I did.”

“Do tell.” What an unusual man. Despite the traumatic events, she realized she’d actually enjoyed moments of pleasurable company while they traveled. She’d learned a good deal about him in a few days, yet neither knew a speck about her.

He stretched his long legs to one side and propped his booted feet on the cushion. “This was all un-entailed Malvern land until the day my father let loose a team of mules and challenged us boys to head off in every direction. We had until sundown to circle back to the point of departure and lay claim to whatever land we’d traversed. First off, we drank ourselves into the ground, and then laid bets as to who could ride out farthest on the stubborn beasts—without saddles, mind you. My cousin, who’d been included, imbibed more than his share and rode in jagged circles, finally reaching the stables before dark with not much more than fifty acres to claim, including the odd shaped bit cutting right through my claim.”

Sarah covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Don’t tell me you’ve been at odds ever since?”

When he merely shrugged, she clasped her hands in her lap. “How long ago was this?”

“Let’s see, I was six and twenty. Four years ago.”

“You are still angry with him.”

His eyes sparked. “Oh, he’s angry as well. Just look at those god-forsaken statues.”

“I should like to meet your cousin.”

“You shan’t.” He made to rise but quickly sat back, staring at her with those piercing eyes. “I mean, I hope you have your memory back by then and you can live your life as you see fit without ever having to run across the good-for-nothing.”

“Are those mulberry trees lining the drive?”
Quite proper to change the subject, wasn’t it?

“Indeed.”

Oh, here was heaven. Green rolling hills dotted with sheep, many with newborns appearing no bigger than puffs of cotton from where she sat. Streams cut through the land, looking like blue ribbons clipped from a spring bonnet. Pink cabbage roses the size of saucers hugged fences, their roots mingling with a low border of colorful flowers. She intended to pick them on her walks. She suddenly realized that she loved to walk.

Stands of trees grew thicker, and when she spotted mares and foals, she slid to the other side of the carriage and poked her head out the window. “Oh, my. This is why I love springtime.”

Remembering her manners, she pulled her head back inside the carriage and primly folded her hands in her lap. “You’ve a beautiful estate.”

He used his tongue to fiddle with that broken tooth, a half-smile on his lips. Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth went dry.

The carriage made a turn in the circular drive, and a pale limestone mansion, stately looking, but welcoming, loomed before her. Servants lined either side of the steps. A scruffy mongrel raced to the carriage, its tongue lapping in and out in a way that signaled happiness.

A tall and lean, gray-haired man looking to be in his late fifties stood beside a short, white-haired lady dressed in bright red and wearing an enormous hat to match. Did hats actually come so large? And was that a stuffed bluebird on top? Sitting in a real nest? Who in heaven’s name was she expecting dressed that way?

“Is that the good doctor and your grandmother?”

Eastleigh chuckled. “Welcome to my home.”

A footman opened the carriage door and helped Sarah out. Eastleigh followed while he petted the dog. “Good girl, Daisy.”

“Daisy? Why, you deceitful brute. No wonder you argued the name. Well, what does it matter if there are two with the same moniker? It’s not as if my stay is permanent. ”

Eastleigh regarded her with an intensity that was palpable, but said nothing.

Mum marched toward Sarah, and for all to hear called out, “It’s about time you returned with my ward.”

“That’ll work,” he muttered.

Sarah stiffened her spine further and paused. Eastleigh stepped to her side, placed his hand at the small of her back, and discreetly nudged her forward.

“Do this for Mum,” he murmured and bowed his head to his grandmother.

“You are
not
required to instruct me on what I well know how to do,” she whispered back and genuflected to his grandmother. “Your Grace.”

When she lifted her head, the doctor and Eastleigh were exchanging knowing glances.
What was that about?
Despite his pleasant smile, the doctor’s countenance held a serious demeanor when he regarded her.

“Gel, aren’t you the one, though,” Mum said. “Just look at you. Meat on the bones, that’s what this one needs.”

Good heavens, Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off the red hat and the stuffed bird. Were those tiny eggs in the nest real? And oh my, were those walnut-size stones in Mum’s brooch actual rubies?

Mum turned and opened her arms to Eastleigh with a glow on her face that bespoke adoration.

All formality dropped, and he bent to give her a hug. “Missed you, Mum.”

“Aye. You haven’t aged a day.”

He laughed. “I’ve only been gone a week.”

She stepped back and looked him over from head to toe. “Is that all? You said you’d be gone three or four years.”

“Months, Mum. Three or four months. But my plans changed, and I returned home with…ah…your ward a bit sooner than expected.”

She started at the top of Sarah’s head and scanned her to her toes. “Well, then, do come along. Time for tea.”

Eastleigh turned to the man beside her. “This is Doctor Hemphill, madam. I expect he’s here for full tea since he never misses it.”

His words were a nice cover in front of the servants, but Sarah was acutely aware of Hemphill giving her a thorough looking over. Had she ever been to a doctor before? She wished she knew. He seemed kindly enough, but there was something rigid about him that indicated a hard taskmaster and left her feeling ill at ease. How she wished she could disappear into the chamber set aside for her. “You live nearby, Lord Eastleigh tells me.”