Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

T he journey seemed to stretch on for hours, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels the only sound breaking the silence. Thunder rumbled overhead, and rain fell heavier. The further they moved from London, the more nervous she became. James barely moved from the carriage window, a frown touching his face. He peered outside several times and made no move despite the carriage slowing down.

She trusted him, so she tried to patiently wait, refusing to allow the anxiety to pierce her heart and torment her with worry. Sarah's thoughts drifted to the numerous encounters she'd had with James since their acquaintance. They had always sparred with words, biting and caustic, so at odds with the want she sometimes saw in his eyes. There were times she lay in bed and wondered if he hid his attraction behind a veneer of disdain.

Or perhaps I am just fanciful because I like him so very much.

An ache for more, and with James Fairbanks, tightened her throat. What would he do should she lean forward and kiss his mouth, then confess her unrequited feelings?

"What are you thinking about?"

She snapped her gaze to his to find his unwavering regard on her face. "Nothing of import."

One of his eyebrows winged upward. "You are blushing, Miss Bloomfield."

Sarah suspected that whenever he wanted to maintain distance between them, he reverted to calling her Miss Bloomfield. Her pride always pushed her to reply in kind.

She pushed her spectacles up her nose, though they needed no adjustments. "Whatever causes my blushes, Mr. Fairbanks, is most assuredly private."

"Never say it was something scandalous, even though for you, that basically means reading past bedtime."

"You wretch !" she cried.

"Was I wrong?" he asked with an unrepentant smile.

"Yes," she said with sweet tartness, "if you must really know my private musings, it involved a man … without clothes … sprawled atop silken sheets in all his muscled, naked glory doing wicked things with my mouth."

He sucked in a harsh breath and stared at her as if she had grown horns.

"You were insistent on prying," she drawled, flicking a piece of invisible lint from her gloves. It was mildly annoying that her cheeks grew even hotter, but she was inordinately proud of her response.

"Who is this man?"

The dangerous throb in his tone startled Sarah. "Jealous?" she asked before she had the sense of self not to ask.

"Do not be silly," he said, his tone now flat and indifferent. "I am going to be wedded soon. What reason would I need to be jealous of the men who occupy your thoughts?"

She felt as if all the oxygen had been snatched from her lungs. "You … you plan to go through with this … forced marriage?"

Silence fell … such painful, lingering silence that stretched on for far too long. "James?"

He frowned. "I do not know."

Sarah looked away from his piercing stare and gripped the edges of the squabs until her fingers ached. I had waited too long to share my feelings, and now it was too late.

"Why do you find this upsetting?"

"Do not presume to know my thoughts, James."

"Your eyes are very expressive," he said.

"Do I know this lady or her family?" she asked, refusing to speak about what she felt when he was so clearly indifferent.

"The young lady you refer to is not open for discussion, Miss Bloomfield. I know gossip is a delight for the ton , but I do not indulge in it."

Stung, she looked away from his cool, mocking gaze.

"Get ready to act. We will need to jump."

Her heart jerked. "From the moving carriage?"

"Yes. The rain worsened, and they might stop and seek shelter. They have also slowed their speed. The roads will be too muddy to continue for the night. It is unlikely they will pull into an inn. Too much attention given what they are up to."

"Perhaps if we alert them of my presence and—"

"No," he snapped, his intensity startling her. "I will not risk your safety in any regard. Do not argue about this, for I will not bend."

Her chest tightened. "You cannot be certain they would hurt me."

"These men were willing to club me over the head and deliver me to someone for a coin. I do not know if they have any honor. I have no notion of what they might attempt with a lady without protection. They will draw many erroneous inferences upon seeing you in this carriage. I will not risk that in any way."

"I understand."

Another hour passed slowly. Surely, they were well away from town. They needed to escape as soon as the carriage slowed down enough for them to jump out safely. The risk was great, but staying in the carriage meant facing even greater dangers.

James peered out of the small window, his expression tense. "The rain is getting heavier. I recognize this area. We need to jump soon."

Sarah nodded, clutching the dagger tightly. "I am prepared."

"Sheath your dagger. If you fall, you might inadvertently hurt yourself."

He glanced away when she started to drag the hem of her dress up her stocking-clad leg.

"Stay close to me, Sarah. We'll need to move quickly and quietly."

James signaled for Sarah to stay low as he prepared to open the door. This was their chance. The carriage slowed considerably, and she heard the muffled voices of the men outside.

"Now," James whispered.

With a swift movement, he opened the door and slipped out, helping Sarah down. They landed softly on the muddy ground, the rain masking their movements. The coldness of the night immediately sank into her bones. Staying low, they crept away from the carriage. Sarah's heart raced so fast she felt faint. Together, they hurried into the surrounding woods, the sounds of James's kidnappers growing fainter with each step. The cover of darkness and the noise of the rain worked in their favor, and they managed to put some distance between themselves and the carriage. Sarah's dress was soaked, and the cold seeped deeper into her bones, but she pushed on, driven by the urgency of their situation.

"We need to keep moving," James urged. "I have a manor not far from here. We can find shelter there."

"A manor?"

"Yes. It is the reason I chose this spot."

Sarah nodded, her teeth chattering. "Please lead the way."

They walked for what felt like hours, the rain unrelenting. Sarah's legs grew heavy, and exhaustion threatened to overtake her. But James was there, steady and strong, encouraging her to keep going. When she could walk no further, he hoisted her onto his back, carrying her the rest of the way.

Finally, they arrived at a charming manor, its silhouette barely visible through the rain. James pushed open the door, and they stumbled inside, dripping wet and shivering. The manor was empty, devoid of servants, but it offered the shelter they desperately needed. Holding her hand, he led her along the hallway and up a winding flight of stairs. Thankfully, there were no drapes over the large windows, and a measure of moonlight penetrated the gloom.

James escorted Sarah to one of the bedchambers, where half of one of the walls was windows. Outside, the rain raged, and intermittent lightning forked in the sky.

"We need to get you out of these sodden clothes."

"Yes."

He raked his fingers through his wet hair as if he wanted to say something and then decided against it. James went to the armoire and came back with a cambric shirt that smelled like him. He also handed her two large towels.

"There is a screen there. Go and tend to yourself," he said gruffly.

She wrapped the towel over her hair and hastened toward the screen, where she carefully removed her spectacles and started to strip from her clothes.

"I was last here last week, , so there are some supplies in the larder and cold storage."

Sarah paused, trying to assess the odd note in his voice. "Is all well, James?"

"This is the only bedchamber that is fit for us. We will have to share it."

A sharp tremor cascaded through her body, and her heart started to race. "Will we share the bed too?"

Sarah's eyes widened. Somehow, the question escaped her before she had the presence of mind to think. Silence fell, and a slow tension tightened her belly.

"I will take the chaise."

Relief and disappointment weakened her knees. "Very well," she said crisply, trying to regain her composure.

She removed all her clothes until she stood naked, painfully aware that only a screen separated her from James's regard. Sarah dried her hair to the best of her ability. "I have no clothes to put on, James," she said softly.

There was no doubt he heard, for his ragged inhalation pierced her. The sound of his footsteps came closer, and then he pushed a shirt over the screen. She snatched it, noting that her hands shook. "Thank you."

Sarah hurriedly slipped on the shirt that fell to her knees. The fabric was rough against her skin, but it was dry and warm. The front also revealed the top of her breasts. Blushing, she slipped from behind the screen.

James was building a fire, and to Sarah's shock, he was only clad in trousers. As if he felt her regard, he stood and turned to her. In the flickering light of the fire James had managed to start, their gazes collided, and Sarah felt complex emotions she was too tired to untangle.

The sight of him, so strong and capable, stirred something deep within her. He was … so beautiful. James's muscled chest glistened with the residual moisture from the rain. The flickering light from the fire cast shadows across the defined planes of his torso, highlighting the ridges of his abdominal muscles. A light dusting of dark hair tapered down his chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Somehow, she could feel the tension in his body.

"We're not out of the woods yet, but we're safe for now. Get some rest, Sarah. We will figure out our next move in the morning."

"Good night, James."

As she clambered onto the bed, exhaustion overtaking her, Sarah felt a shattering awareness of the man who still stood before the hearth. Her thoughts swirled with the memory of his touch and the safety she felt in his presence.

He might marry another .

Sarah forcefully pushed aside the thought.

One of her dearest friends, Poppy, was now married to Richard Fairbanks. Poppy loved him with her entire heart, and she had only found this unmatched happiness after acting against the strict conventions she had grown up with.

Perhaps I need to do the same, ignore all sense of propriety and reach for what I want. Is this not the perfect time for it?