Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Sariah knew she was playing with fire, the kind that left lasting scars.
And yet, she could not seem to keep her opinions to herself.
She wanted to test him, to see how far he was willing to take this charade—and when he would finally admit that what they shared was more than temporary.
If he offered himself to her in truth, she wouldn’t hesitate to accept his suit.
She was confident that her parents, while possibly reticent at first, would soon warm to the match.
It was obvious that her father respected his efforts by rising above his circumstances.
While hard work might not be favored by much of society, preferring others to make their fortune, but it was something to be celebrated.
Thankfully, more and more people were starting to realize that.
“Are you eager to be ruined, Sariah?”
Her gaze swept over his handsome face—her struggling Adonis. “Only by you.”
She saw a spark flare in his green gaze and then he lowered his head and captured her mouth with his.
She moaned at the contact, eager for this reunion.
Since the illicit tryst in the gazebo, she had thought of little else but the way he’d made her feel.
Her core began to throb now. “Touch me,” she commanded, drawing up her own skirts. “Make me yours, Reed.”
There was a guttural sound deep in his throat as he complied, his hand sliding beneath the layers and finding the spot where she ached the most. As he teased her, she rode his hand until she was soon splintering apart, a warm, languid sensation spreading throughout her limbs.
But it wasn’t enough.
“I want more,” she panted.
He gritted his teeth. “I will not tup you against the wall like some dockside whore.”
“Fine.” She swallowed down her disappointment. “If you do not feel the same, then walk away now.”
She could read the indecision on his face, could almost feel the conflict going on inside of him as he considered the ramifications of his actions, whatever he decided. When she read the moment he made his choice, she tried to pretend as though his rejection didn’t cut her to the quick.
“Very well,” he rasped. He reached for the door, but instead of ripping it open—he turned the lock. His emerald eyes flared as he looked down at her. “But I meant what I said. I will not take you now. Not here.”
Sariah’s stomach did an anticipatory flip. “Where?” she breathed. “When?”
“Tomorrow night. After the tournament.”
With that, he slid the lock back, opened the door, and left the room.
Sariah practically melted against the frame after his retreat. She didn’t know why he was making her wait, unless it was to heighten the experience. She wasn’t certain she could want him anymore than she already did, her body still burning for him even after he’d brought her to a climax.
She wondered if he intended to make sure she didn’t want to change her mind.
She was certain that was not going to be the case, unless something drastic happened.
She no longer had any doubt that fate had interceded at the Pond.
It wasn’t a coincidence that he had been the one to rescue her, or that she had sought him out among the many that had been present that day.
From the beginning he’d stood out with his quiet, seductive charm.
She had been mortified by the circumstances that surrounded their initial meeting.
It certainly hadn’t gone according to plan, the teasing flirtation that she’d envisioned had left her feeling inadequate and ashamed.
She thought for sure she would never set eyes on him again, and at the time, she had prayed it were so.
Now, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
In the short time they had known each other, she had gained enough information about him to realize that not only did he have a true sense of honor, but he was also a gentleman.
Both were traits that he had worked tirelessly at to earn, and although someone like Lord Michael had fought bravely for his country, his efforts paled in comparison to the struggles that Reed had overcome, simply because they had far different upbringings.
When you were offered every advantage since the day you were born, it was not difficult to continue to rise, whereas Reed had been forced to push back against every expectation of a man of his class to gain the respect that came so easily to others.
Sariah walked over to a nearby mirror and checked her reflection to make sure she was presentable.
Although her cheeks still had high color, she felt confident that no one would know of her illicit exploits in the library with Reed.
And if they did suspect anything untoward, she didn’t really care.
Just as Reed carried his arrogance, she was comfortable in the fact that he cared just as much for her and that tomorrow they would seal the deal that had been struck in the beginning.
With a smile on her face, she rejoined the assemblage.
Reed not only had trouble making it through dinner without running Lord Michael through with his butter knife, but he’d had to suffer the oppressive way the man continued to hover about Sariah the next morning when they all gathered on the back lawn to engage in a friendly competition.
At least, as far as the archery games were concerned.
However, if Reed didn’t know better, he would claim the man was attempting to woo her right beneath his nose.
He told himself that it didn’t matter what Lord Michael said to Sariah, because Reed was the one that she wanted.
She had confessed that of her own volition.
Because he wanted to show her how much her trust in him meant, he’d discovered a perfect spot for their evening rendezvous.
There was an abandoned caretaker’s cottage on the property in the midst of an open meadow of wildflowers with a small stream trickling nearby.
It was quaint and secluded, the ideal place for a lengthy seduction.
He’d been quite pleased when he’d happened across it the day before during the hunt.
Rising with the dawn and sneaking back out early that morning, he’d found it to still be inhabitable, as if the occupants had recently departed.
There were still a few sparse furnishings left behind.
There was no bed, but the cozy, makeshift conservatory with its plush window seat would provide everything he wanted.
Reed had done his best to prepare the rest of the cottage for that evening, knowing he would not have much of an opportunity to make it somewhere Sariah would never forget. He wanted it to be special, memorable.
He picked a few flowers from the marquess’ gardens, sure that Lord Harville would not mind it if he snipped a few fragrant blooms. Besides, if things went accordingly, Reed would ensure that the marquess was well compensated for any losses as he fully intended to propose to Sariah, properly this time.
He did not have a ring to offer, no family heirloom, but he vowed she could have her choice of anything in London. Or Paris—anywhere she wished and it would be hers.
He would give her anything she wanted, just as long as she always chose him.
Reed could not wait for the sun to start to dip beyond the horizon. But first, he had to try to act as though he did not want to rid Lord Michael of his bollocks.
“If you keep staring at him like that, you are only going to encourage him that much more.”
He glanced at Lady Margaret, one of Sariah’s best friends, and the daughter to the Earl of Blasingame.
They had been partnered together for the event.
Until now, Reed realized he had been rather inattentive, intent on the couple shooting a few targets down from them.
“I apologize, Lady Margaret. I should be grateful to be with such a lovely, and rather skilled, companion.”
She gave a shrug, her red hair glistening in the sun.
She was a rather handsome woman, and had Reed not been overcome with desire for Sariah, he might have been incentivized to court her, regardless of whether her father was another potential investor for his shipping business.
Not only that, but she was more levelheaded than many other women he had ever come across.
She would have made a formidable ally in business if women were allowed to take charge of such things.
It was generally expected that a male family member, or husband, take over the reins of commerce.
It was another injustice that Reed personally hoped would change someday.
“I am not bothered by your jealousy, Mr. Carrington. I am grateful you are not trying to deny your feelings for Sariah have shifted.”
His mouth kicked up in the corner. “You are very observant, Lady Margaret.”
She had her bow poised and ready to shoot, but she paused and lowered her weapon.
“Please, just call me Maggie. I despise of continuous formality.” He inclined his head as she raised the bow again.
“And it is not observation that shows me how you feel about Sariah, but a mirrored image of what I see on her face when she looks at you.”
As the arrow flew evenly through the air and pierced the target with almost dead accurate precision, he clapped his gloved hands together.
“Well done, my lady.” He put a hand over his heart and corrected, “Maggie.” They swapped positions, but before he lifted his weapon, he murmured, “I hope it is not merely an exaggeration of her desire for me.”
“Trust me,” she stated firmly and without hesitation. “It is not. But I think you already know that deep down.”
He hesitated, positioning his arrow. “I believe I do,” he confirmed, and released. While the arrow hit the mark, it was not as well placed as the lady’s.
Maggie moved to stand beside him and gave a slight wince. “I hope your business is more successful than your athletic abilities.”