Stand and Deliver Your Love (8 page)

She turned back to face him, her eyes glittering with defiance and unshed tears. “Then one day I heard the Madame of one of the nunneries talking about how the rich make them feel as if they were robbing people to get them to part with their money, and I thought why not? I had heard of highwaymen before. I thought at least if I were to rob people I would see to it no one got hurt and the money would be going to help the children.”

Byron tilted her chin so he could look deep into her eyes which seemed to mirror her injured soul. “One day you will get caught. Where will your orphans be then?” Her full red lips trembled and opened but no sound came
out. He traced his thumb across the fuller bottom one and her tongue came out to moisten it afterwards. He watched enchanted, and before he could stop himself he lowered his lips to hers. Hers were warm and soft. They quivered slightly and opened a crack as his tongue stroked them lightly. She leaned into him as a tiny sigh escaped her mouth. His blood began to pound in his ears as he moved his lips suggestively over hers. His mind seemed to cloud as her body sagged forward, her hands sliding up his chest to rest upon his shoulders of their own accord. She allowed him access to her honeyed mouth, shivering at the touch of his tongue.

Byron struggled to restrain himself as his tongue touched hers. God, he wanted her! How he craved to run his lips along every glorious curve of her sweet body. He groaned, slipping his other hand up to cup the back of her neck pulling her closer, deepening his kiss. Abruptly he became aware of wood clattering to the ground outside the cottage door. The murmur of Dickie’s and Bert’s voices carried through the passion-induced fog enveloping his brain.

Sarah snatched her hands from his shoulders and shoved against his chest. He moaned his disapproval, pulling his lips from hers, opening his eyes just as she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek.

“What the devil was that for?” he yelped, rubb
ing his unshaven cheek.Sarah sprang to her feet and gave him a frosty look, as her breath hissed from her lips. “How dare you try to seduce me with a kiss.”

Byron shook his head in wonder. “Seduce you? I was not trying to do anything of the sort, besides, you kissed me back.”

“I did not!”

He smiled as she busied herself gathering up Dickie’s books from the table. Judging by the
anger he sensed she used as a shield to protect herself, his kiss had some effect on her. “Liar.” He smiled when he noticed her clench her jaw. Her little nose tipped up as she stacked the books together with quick, jerky movements.
Oh yes, she wanted my kiss.
He crossed his arms across his chest and fixed her with a teasing grin. “Come back here and I will kiss you again to prove it.”

“Ooohh!” She swung around with a book in hand and he ducked as she let it fly towards his head. It hit the wall a scant inch from him and dropped to the floor. He snickered and she shot him a look that could have curdled milk.

Before she had a chance to say more, the door swung open and Bert entered with an armload of wood for the dwindling fire. The sailor paused, looking back and forth between them.

“Is aught wrong, mistress?”

Sarah turned her back on Byron. “Nothing is amiss, Bert. His lordship just dropped his book.”

Byron snickered again and Bert gave him a skeptical look before he crossed the room to set down his wood. Why did the woman not just give in and admit her feelings? Although her denials were proving to be most entertaining….

Chapter
Eight

Sarah cast a worried look at Byron as she cleared away the dishes after their meal. He had been strangely quiet since Bert and Dickie interrupted his attempt to seduce her. The man was lying back against his pillows with his eyes half closed now, but she felt his gaze upon her all evening. His color was better than earlier, still pale but not pasty white, and his breathing seemed to have lost the harsh rasp. He had eaten his bowl
of venison broth to which she added a few small chunks of tender meat, with a mumbled complaint she was trying to starve him to death. It looked like he would be well enough to ride by morning. Yes, tomorrow would be a good time for him to leave, she decided. Bert would be able to help ensure the marquis made it back to his townhouse safely. Only one more night to put up with the vexatious man before she would be rid of him for good, she mused. Then she could go back to her existence, tending to the children at the orphanage.

Planning robberies was certainly not how she envisioned her life as a little girl, but there seemed no other solution to the problem unless she were to sell herself in a house of ill repute.

She shuddered. No matter how desperate she became, she wouldn't become a whore for man after man to use as they pleased. Heat flushed her cheeks at the realization that the thought had entered her mind after Byron’s first kiss.

Bert cleared his throat breaking into her thoughts. “You look tired, mistress. Perhaps it is best if we retire early tonight.”

Sarah looked up at him as he pushed back his chair and stood. “Yes, I am. I was thinking the marquis should be sufficiently recovered to ride home tomorrow.” Bert looked over at the man and scowled. “Aye, that he is, I’d say he’s well enough to call the constables on you.”

“I am not worried about that, Bert. His lordship and I have come to an agreement on the matter. If he wants certain incriminating documents I found in his carriage kept quiet, he will keep our little secret.” She gave Byron a smug look. “Is that not right, my lord?”

He opened his eyes and gave her a disgruntled glare. “I gave you my word.” His voice was flat and emotionless.

Bert glowered at him. “I still say you should shoot him and be done with it.”

Sarah frowned. “Now Bert, you know I do not like to use violence.” She ignored the snort of protest from Byron.

“Well just so he don’t get any ideas, I’ll be sleeping here in fro
nt of the door tonight. Abe is stayin' with Ann tonight.”

 
Sarah smiled at the old man as he picked up his bedroll from beside the fire and spread it out directly in front of the door. He lay down on it facing the door. No one would get past him in the night. “Wash up Dickie, it is time for bed.” The boy yawned and she turned to spread his straw mat and blanket out in front of the crackling fire.

Once all the males where comfortably settled she set to work washing up the old tin dishes, setting them on the shelf to dry. Her mind kept wandering to Byron sleeping in the cot. Would he really keep his promise? What would he do once he returned ho
me? Would he think of her? She touched her lips with damp fingers. She would certainly not forget his kisses. It was unlikely she would ever be kissed like that again.

Byron on the other hand, probably was a daring rake who kissed ladies like that all the time, she thought
, feeling a warm flush spreading along her neck. Oh, what she would give to be the hapless debutante whom Lord Cobbett might seduce. To be favored with stolen kisses in a secluded corner, at one of the many balls he no doubt attended in London. The type of balls she watched from behind the upstairs tapestry in her childhood home as a young girl. With a sad sigh Sarah placed the last bowl on the shelf and dried her hands on her apron. Tip toeing across the room, she went to the cot and looked down at the handsome man. The skin around his eyes was graced with visible laugh lines, as if even in his sleep he found something amusing. His hairless upper lip twitched slightly as if he was about to speak then lay still again against its fuller twin. She reached out to touch his stubble shadowed cheek, but thought better of it before her fingers touched his sun bronzed skin, afraid to wake him. Better to wake a sleeping lion than he with the teasing tongue and fiery touch, she reminded herself.

Dropping her hand back to her side she turned away and slipped behind the blanket Bert had stretched across the corner of the room and donned her nightdress. She glanced at the bed and curled up on her stiff straw mat on the floor in front of the fire. Try as she might, Sarah couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She should be tired, she reasoned but she couldn't get Byron’s kiss out of her
head. For a moment it had been as if her whole body was alive.

For one brief instant she found herself thinking of what the future might hold for her. It had been so long since she thought of anyone other than the children. What would it be like to be courted by Byron? She could only imagine stolen kisses, whispered declarations of love and promises of passion fulfilled. Oh, to be held close and twirled around a ballroom floor to the strains of a fanciful melody. To walk hand in hand with one’s love in a garden of sweetly perfumed flowers and share a conversation, a book or just loving glances.

Silent tears began to trickle down her cheeks which she didn't bother to wipe away. Didn't she have the right to feel sorry for her lot in life if only for one fleeting closeted moment? What if she did get caught one day? What would happen to all the children who depended on her? What would happen to all those who helped her like Bert and his wife Ann who looked after the crowded warehouse they called home? She rolled over, watching the sleeping figure on the cot.
How dare he fall into my life and make me question who I am and what I am doing. How dare he open my mind to dreams, forbidden kisses and love I can never have. Blast him!

A shrill neigh and
galloping hooves thundering through the clearing claimed her attention. She sat up in panic, clutching her blanket to her chest. Had the Pinkerton somehow found them?

Bert leaped from his bedroll and peered out the small window by the door.

Byron rolled over. “What is going on?”

“Damn!” Bert bellowed. “The mare and that big black brute of yours have gotten loose and run off. Dickie, bring a lantern and come on.” He tugged on his boots and flung open the door.

Sarah tossed aside her blanket and scrambled to her feet. “Wait for me. I am coming too!”

Bert glanced at her and frowned. “Nay. You stay here. We’ve a long ride tomorrow and Ann will have my head if you arrive home worn out.” He and the boy disappeared into the inky
darkness, slamming the door behind them.

Byron swung his bare l
egs over the edge of the cot reaching for the clean trousers she laid out earlier that evening on top of the cottage’s only stool. She swung her gaze to him frowning. “Where do you think you are going?”

“To find my horse.”

“You are in no shape to be wandering around the woods in the dark.”

“I am well enough to put on my trousers and well enough to walk,” he pointed out gruffly.

“You do not know your way around.”

He gave her a look meant to quell any further protest on her part. “I am not some silly school boy who cannot find his way in the woods.”

She darted forward and snatched the pants from Byron’s hand. Holding them behind her back she grinned triumphantly at him. “You cannot possibly go traipsing about the woods with no trousers.”

“Why you little minx!” Byron grumbled, with a grin proving he was anything but upset over the prospect of running naked through the forest. Before she could blink he launched himself off the cot and made a grab for his trousers. The sheet clutched in his hand snagged on a knot on the bed frame. There was a loud tearing sound and the bulk of the sheet fell to the floor leaving him holding a small square that barely covered his manhood.

Sarah clapped her free hand over her mouth to smother her gasp of embarrassment. Her eyes wandered down his tight stomach muscles, past the sheet that concealed very little, to his well-muscled thighs. The man had the body any woman would like to worship. The scrap of cloth he held in front of himself twitched and her face burned as she was reminded of the way his member swelled before at her accidental touch.

His voice, low and husky broke through her scrutiny. “Do I pass your inspection or would you like to see my backside as well?”
Sarah blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.
Good Lord, he just caught me openly lusting after him like some common trollop! What must he think of me now?

The silence stretch between them until his mocking tone interrupted the still. “May I please have my trousers, or do you intend to make me stand here naked, in the draft?”

When she looked up he was holding out his hand. She bit her lip to keep her nervous giggle contained and handed the garment to him. Before she could turn around to give him some privacy he stepped closer. He grasped her wrist, pulling her up against his firm chest.

“Have you never seen a naked man before?” he asked, holding her tighter when she moved to free herself from his embrace.

The heat from his bare chest seemed to radiate into her like the heat from a roaring fire. Her heart began to pound so hard she was sure he could feel it. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak coherently. His fingers freed the scrap of sheet and it fluttered to the floor between their feet. She couldn't help but gasp as his member was exposed to her virginal eyes.

He chuckled so soft
the sound almost escaped her, then cupped her chin with that same hand. Fire spread along her jaw bone as he raised her head. His lips were so close she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. Her knees went weak, almost refusing to hold her up right when she looked into his deep blue eyes. They smoldered and burned.

He spoke in an undertone, “The naked form is nothing to be ashamed of. Artists have painted and sculpted it for years. It is a
thing of beauty, an instrument of love.”

Sarah knew she should protest and push him away, but as hard as she tried she couldn't will her limbs to obey. Her gaze dropped to his full lips. How desper
ately she wanted to feel those lips on hers again. She watched them, entranced when he spoke again. “Kiss me. You know you want to.”

The command although no more than a whisper, played with her fragile emotions. Her heart
leaped. She looked at him uncertain of her own thoughts. Was he jesting, or playing some sort of game to humiliate her further? The darkening of his eyes and the almost pleading look he gave her convinced her otherwise. He released her jaw, dropping his hand to rest light on her collarbone where his fingers began to idly stroke. The loud thumping of her heart turning to a dull roar in her ears, as she closed her eyes and stood on her toes to press her lips against his. They tingled as she brushed a light kiss upon his mouth. He held still for a moment and then, when she would have pulled her head away, slid his hand around the back of her neck. He leaned forward, taking her bottom lip between his. Sarah shuddered at the sensation of his tongue slidding along the edge, stroking and teasing. With a whimper she pressed herself to him wanting something more but not knowing what.

“Open for me,” he murmured against her lips.

Sarah opened her lips to ask what he meant and his tongue slipped into her mouth. His tongue touched hers and a jolt of something akin to liquid fire shot through her every limb. She trembled and moaned. He answered with a low groan of his own.

When she pulled away he whispered, “No, let me show you.”

Sarah relented, letting her tongue touch his. His kiss turned urgent, his lips demanding she open wider for him. When she gave into his urging he groaned and wound his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck holding her to him. His lips became frantic as he sought and explored every nook and cranny of her lips and mouth. She slid her arms up around his neck, holding on as her head swam and her body went limp. He released her lips and pulled her forward, his breathing ragged and quick. “I want….” she opened her eyes, staring into his, not knowing what she needed. They seemed to blaze with a blue fire matching the flames coursing through out her body.

“Shhh.” He backed up and pulled her with him to the edge of the rumpled cot. “I know what you want, what you desire, for it is the same craving I have had since I laid eyes upon you.”

“I cannot,” Sarah protested half-heartedly, “Bert—”

“Bert, will be gone for hours.”

“But—”

“Do not deny what we both feel, what we both want.” He lowered his lips to hers again.

This time Sarah knew what he wanted and opened for him, boldly taking her tongue and intertwining it with his. Feeling something twitch against her belly she slid her hand down instinctively, but he stayed her hand.

“Wait.” He brought her hand back up to clasp the other around his neck and encircled her waist with his good arm. His lips returned to hers. With a small grunt he lowered her to the mattress without stopping his exploration of her mouth, only ceasing when he lay beside her, propping himself up with his good arm.

She peeked at him through lowered lids suddenly shy and unsure. “I want to feel you.”