Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

J ames stood by the window and peered outside into the darkness. The summer storm was quite unexpected and seemed to last a while. The rains had stopped earlier, but now another downpour had started. The sky was a murky gray, heavy with moisture, and the sound of raindrops pelting the windowpanes filled the air. Sheets of rain obscured the landscape, and the distant trees swayed in the wind, their branches bending under the weight of the water.

Earlier, he discovered a few fallen trees on the roads, the riverbanks were overrun, and they most assuredly needed to stay a few more days at his manor before any traveling could happen. He would make the trek to his neighbor and arrange for letters to be sent to town to both their families, and then he would see to procuring a horse or a carriage for his journey to Penporth.

He needed to learn why Mr. Sinclair wanted to force him to marry his daughter. James had walked out with Mirabelle several times in Penporth, and while he had not been tempted to act the scoundrel with her, there had been a certainty inside that she would make him a good wife.

He heard no movement, but James was suddenly inexplicably aware that Sarah was in the room.

"Are you unable to sleep?"

He turned to see Sarah leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile on her lips. She wore another one of his shirts, which hung loosely on her petite frame, giving her an air of casual intimacy that made his heart race.

"How was your book?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I learned more than I wanted to know about the mating habits of farm animals."

James smiled. "I will ensure the library is stocked with your favorite authors the next time you visit."

Her eyes widened. "Will there be a next time, James?"

"I do not lightly toss away friendship."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as her gaze flicked from the chaise to the bed. "I am going to sleep." She took a step closer, her gaze locking onto his. "Will you join me there or sleep on the chaise?"

He swallowed hard, the temptation almost unbearable. "The chaise."

Sarah laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "If you say so, my good sir."

She turned and sauntered back to the bed, her hips swaying slightly, making it clear that she was teasing him.

James let out a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. The darkness outside seemed almost inviting compared to the challenge of resisting her charms inside. He looked at the storm, the rain falling in relentless sheets, and then turned away from the window. The room was warm, and the fire crackled softly, casting a golden glow over the walls. He saw Sarah settling into the bed, her hair spread over the pillow and her body curled beneath the blankets. The sight made his heart ache with a mix of longing and restraint.

He stretched out on the chaise and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. James even tried counting numbers, and when he had reached over two thousand, a shriek made him bolt upright and rush over to the bed, almost tripping on the carpet.

"What is it, Sarah?"

"You moved faster than I anticipated."

"Woman—"

"It was a mouse."

"A mouse?" he echoed. "Where?"

"Under the sheets."

The laughter lurking in her tone made James sigh. He grabbed the blanket, his movements slow and deliberate, and ripped it from her body. The damn hellion was temptation incarnate. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the soft curves of her body were lushly pronounced.

"What mouse?"

"It was … imaginary, but the feelings elicited at the thought were real."

"An imaginary mouse?"

She looked up at him, her eyes soft, inviting and glowing with amusement. "More like a rat."

James's shoulders started to shake with his laughter. "You would make a deplorable rake. The art of seduction is more subtle."

She shifted, coming up on her knees to stare at him. "I do not want to be subtle. I am a woman of five and twenty. I have no wish to be coy." Her voice was a gentle whisper, dripping with a challenge, making his pulse quicken.

"I know what I want, James, and I am reaching for it."

Detecting the wistful hunger in her voice, James was struck with the sudden desire to fulfill her needs. Sarah's closeness and the allure in her gaze made it nearly impossible to step away. Her skin looked so soft, her lips so inviting, and the way she looked at him with both mischief and desire was intoxicating. Everything about her was driving him to distraction, making it nearly impossible to adhere to the strict rules of gentlemanly conduct. He felt the savage, almost desperate pull of desire warring with his sense of duty and honor, and he feared he might not have the strength to resist for much longer.

"Sarah," he said, his voice strained with the effort to maintain control. "Tread carefully, or you might get the fucking that you are asking for."

She gasped, and James felt immediate regret. Bloody hell . He raked his fingers through his hair. "My crudeness is unpardonable and—"

"Should your words make my belly and lower down feel so hot?" she whispered, squeezing her legs closed.

The air between them was tense, and for a moment, James forgot all his rules and why he should keep his distance. All he could think about was the woman before him and how much he wanted to taste her mouth and make her limp with pleasure. Perhaps if he kissed her once, the hunger for it would vanish. He slipped his hand around her waist, hauled her against his body and pressed his mouth to hers. James tasted the innocence in her sweetness and groaned his defeat.

He is kissing me , Sarah thought faintly.

A sharp tremor went through her body, and she sagged against him. His lips were warm and firm, yet there was a softness to them. Sarah felt as if he were supporting her only with the warm clasp of his hands on her face. James licked at her mouth, and she parted her lips. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and she moaned. It felt wonderful. She put her hands on his shoulders and clung to him, her pulse pounding in her ears, her heart racing.

What was this heated sensation working its way through her body? Their kiss grew wilder, and she could tell her lips would appear red and swollen after.

He gripped the front of his shirt and wrenched it down. Oh, God! His palms molded themselves to the full mounds of her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers capturing her peaked nipples and rolling them through the thin material of his shirt. She cried out, and he swallowed it. Sarah felt lost in the searing pleasure swamping her senses.

James broke their kiss and brushed his mouth over the bridge of her nose and cheek with a tenderness that brought a lump to her throat.

"Let's get some sleep."

Still overwhelmed by the visceral pleasure wrought by a kiss, she nodded. When James made to walk away, she said, "I will be cold without you."

The heat in his eyes made her feel a prickle of uncertainty, and not for the first time, she wondered what it would feel like to couple. James slipped into the bed, tugged her into his arms and wrapped the blanket over her. She contentedly listened to his heartbeat, wondering if she dared to share this scandalous encounter with dearest friends Ester and Cressida, they would believe her.

How much should she even reveal to her friends?

"I can feel the heat of your blush against my skin," James said, his tone rich with humor. "Rakes and libertines do not blush after kissing."

The wretch . She turned her face and placed her teeth over the spot she had bit. This time, she kissed it, smiling at the hitch in his breathing. "I am sorry for biting you, James."

"Do not be. I liked it, so thank you for opening my horizon."

Sarah could not win with this scoundrel.

"What new story are you working on?"

"You know about my stories?"

"I have read a few."

She gasped. "Ester!"

James chuckled. "My sister sought my opinion about your stories a few times but besieged me not to tell you."

Sarah realized then how much her friend had tried to encourage their attachment without being too obvious. Oh, Ester, thank you . "What did you think?"

"The story of Venerable Timothy Hodgkins was really good, but I was amazed at your capacity for bloodthirstiness."

"It is a gothic tale of revenge; it must be bloodthirsty."

"How many stories have you completed?"

"Eleven," she said softly.

"That is impressive."

The admiration warmed her chest.

"Have any publishers shown an interest."

Sarah lifted her head from his chest and peered into his eyes. "A publisher?"

"Yes."

"I …" a shocked sound burst from her. "I could never dare to seek to get my stories published, James!"

One of his brows winged upward. "Whyever not? Lizzie did."

"Your sister is the Duchess of Ravenswood, and she has the support of her duke, who gives the appearance of a man completely besotted with his wife. Lizzie also writes children's adventure stories."

James tenderly brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead. "Do you wish for them to be published?"

A lump formed in her throat. "I have never dared to allow myself to think so far. My mother would likely collapse if she knew I write such stories."

"Would you have your father's support?"

"No," Sarah softly said. "Even Frederick would be appalled. Helena differs from our mother in everything. I write them … I wrote them for myself because my governess told me I could not. It was more in defiance of what was expected from me, and I grew to love writing deeply."

"You should do all the things that bring joy to your life."

"That is quite easy for a gentleman to say. We ladies are not allowed to soar," she said dryly.

His arm tightened around her, and she rested into the curve of his throat, amazed that she was so scandalously sprawled atop James Fairbanks. A smile bloomed on her lips, and Sarah closed her eyes and slipped into sleep, wishing these feelings of peace and joy in his embrace would last forever.