The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (36 page)

Wincing bashfully, he dragged a hand down his face. "That wasn't pretense, my lady. If you intend to end your association with Lord Weston, I would be very pleased for you to seriously consider my suit. You are a lovely woman, inside and out, and I've come to admire you tremendously. I would be most pleased to become the gentleman in your life."

Sarah's mouth quirked. "But all in all, you'd rather buy my house."

He blinked, and his chin dropped in shock. But he recovered quickly, and for the first time since she'd known him, Robert Endicott cracked an honest grin. "Well, yes. Actually I would."

Now she laughed aloud and rose to her feet. "I think I'd like to take that stroll in the garden now, Mr. Endicott. While I am an independent woman accustomed to making my own decisions, in this particular case I insist you run your proposition past my husband. I suspect in this instance he'll be quite interested in hearing your plans for the Texas Spring Palace."

"Perhaps he would be interested in investing in the project. He does, after all, have ties to Texas."

"That he does, Mr. Endicott. For the moment, anyway."

* * *

Nick seriously considered tying Helen up and dumping her in the bushes. He was trying to be a gentleman about this, but how long did good manners require he stand there and allow the woman to chastise him?

She'd gone on for a good ten minutes, and a man could only take so much. He wouldn't have been this patient if she had said anything about his sisters that wasn't true, and he knew that much of her fury arose from an attempt to save face in the wake of his ending their burgeoning relationship.

"Helen," he said, attempting once more to interrupt her tirade. "Please. You're repeating yourself. Besides, we can't be certain my sisters are the ones behind the prank."

"What I have to say bears repeating, and of course your sisters are the perpetrators of this vicious deed. Those girls are troublemakers, and they should be punished. They're vicious and wicked and cruel."

Now she'd crossed the line. "Enough," he said, a jagged edge to his voice. "Such talk is beneath you. You are welcome to deride me as much as you wish, but I cannot and will not allow you to denigrate my sisters. Mischievous acts aside, they are not at fault for what has transpired between us. I am sorry if I hurt you, Helen. It was never my intention."

"You made promises to me," she accused. "You purposely deceived me."

"No," he quietly defended himself. "That I never did. I spent time with you, provided you escort, but I never made you promises. I never took you to my bed."

"No, you didn't. You didn't, curse you. You didn't."

She raised her hand to slap him, but Nick grabbed her wrist When she would have used the other hand, he grasped that one, too. Disturbed to see the Ice Queen lose her composure, Nick spoke in a conciliatory tone. "Helen, please."

"Do you know how many men have invited me to their beds since my husband died? Dozens. Do you know how many men have proposed marriage to me? Dozens. Do you know how many men I've wanted in my bed, wanted to marry? One. You, Lord Weston. You are the only one. You are the only man for me. I love you."

Damnation.
Her confession left him at a loss for words. He'd known she admired him, desired him, but he never realized her feelings went this deep. He'd always believed she was more interested in being the Marchioness of Weston than his wife.

Then a tear spilled from her eye to trail slowly down her cheek, and Nick could stand no more. He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a comforting hug.

She caught him by surprise when she lifted her face, pulled his head down to hers, and trapped his mouth in a kiss.

Wasn't it just Nick's luck that at that particular moment, Sarah strolled down the garden path?

When a hen walks into a wedding reception and cackles, it brings good luck.

Chapter 18

When Nick spied his wife standing in the muted glow of Chinese lanterns lighting the garden, his lips still damp from Helen's kiss, he felt like howling at the moon. Was this not the worst sort of cliché?

He immediately stepped away from Helen and toward Sarah, and that was when he noticed she was taking her garden stroll on the arm of a suspected assassin. His temper, already strained from his own situation, soared. "Sarah, what do you think you are doing?"

Even as he said it, he thought it quite likely the dumbest comment he'd ever made.

Apparently, Sarah agreed because she laughed. An honest, amused giggle. That, more than Helen's declaration of love, shocked Nick speechless. That was why he didn't say anything when she turned to Endicott and said, "I do believe I'm ready to bargain, Robert. You get that woman out of my garden and away from my party, and I'll reconsider selling you my house."

Endicott, curse his black soul, beamed a grin, then leaned down and kissed Sarah. Right on the mouth. "I make it a practice to always seal my bargains with a kiss."

Nick snarled and came close to baring his teeth as Endicott approached. As little as he wanted Helen clinging to him, his conscience troubled him at releasing her to this man. What if he was part of a plot to kill Queen Victoria?

He's not going to do it tonight in your garden, no more than in your drawing room on a weekday afternoon while he's calling on your wife.

"I'm losing my mind," Nick muttered.

"I'm not leaving," Helen snapped, her chin lifting.

"Yes, you are." Endicott took her hand and tugged. "I have my heart set on that house." When she planted her feet and refused to budge, he lifted her up and carried her from the scene.

"Well," Nick said. "Alone at last."

Sarah folded her arms. "I wondered what was keeping you."

Distracted by the way her arms pillowed and pushed up her breasts, he fumbled for a response. "Sarah... um... it's not... I didn't... you arrived at an awkward time."

"Obviously."

"That's not what I... oh, damnation." He raked his fingers through his hair, then made a stab at distracting her. "What is this about selling Endicott your house?"

Her brow arched pointedly. "All right, I'll start. But we will revisit the subject of Lady Steele."

Lovely.

"Mr. Endicott is not your assassin, Nick."

Grimly he replied, "From the appearance of things, he is
your
assassin, Sarah."

Her lips twitched. Nick wanted to bite them. "Are you jealous?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am."

"Good. That makes two of us."

So she was jealous? Well. Good. That
was
a positive sign, wasn't it?

As Nick mulled over that question, she launched into a tale of how Endicott came to be in England, and why she didn't consider him a candidate for the mastermind of a plot to kill the queen. Once Nick got past the idea that the man had followed Sarah all the way from Texas to London, he focused on what she was saying. When she had finished, he frowned. "Endicott's reported involvement in this project may be a cover story for his true reason for being in London—an assassination attempt."

"True, but I don't believe that. He spoke with such enthusiasm and conviction. It occurs to me that one way to prove his intentions would be to sell him my house and see if he leaves London."

Everything inside Nick froze. He wanted to ask her if that meant she'd made up her mind to stay in England. To stay with him. But a flash of emotion he saw in her eyes convinced him to choose his words with care. "You'd sell him your house?"

She shrugged. "He convinced me that the Texas Spring Palace is a good idea and important for the future of Fort Worth. He tells me it might be possible to move my house, and I could transplant Mother's rosebushes. I wouldn't mind being farther from downtown. It's quite noisy on Saturday nights."

Nick's stomach slid into a dive, and finally he lost his patience. "Damnation, Sarah. What are you saying? Have you decided to return to Fort Worth?"

She closed her eyes and spoke softly. "A vision plays across my mind. It's my home with its yellow roses in bloom, the McBride Menaces pushing their little brothers and cousins in the swing hanging from the branch of an old oak tree. I see myself laughing with Jenny over silks and satins in Jenny's workroom and swiping a spoonful of chocolate icing from a bowl in Claire's bakery, then sharing it with her little ones. I picture sitting in my office sipping tea with my aunt and mother during their biannual trips to Fort Worth."

Then she looked at him, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. She was so lovely, almost ethereal in the soft, hazy light. Dressed in a gown of sunbeams and sparkling jewels, Sarah was a fairy princess stepped from the pages of a book.

However, the tale she told was worthy of the Brothers Grimm.

"The McBrides' arrival has brought it all back to me," she explained. "It's reminded me how much I love my home. For a while, I ached with the need to be there. We're different in that way, Nick. You're the adventurer, the wanderer, the world traveler. I'm a small-town homebody who builds a nest—with lots of frippery, true—but it's my space and that's where I belong. That was true on the day we wed and it's still true today."

"You've been happy here with us, with me," he told her.

"Yes. I have. Lady Steele reminded me of that tonight."

Nick drew back. How was it this woman always managed to surprise him? "She did?"

Nodding, she approached him, her hips swaying gracefully, an enigmatic glint in her eyes. "Your family has made a place for me. I love that. I love them. The McBrides and Lord Endicott helped me remember all the good things about Texas. It's your turn, Nick. Seeing Lady Steele in your arms convinces me that you should remind me of why I like it here in England."

She completely robbed him of all conscious thought when she lifted her hand to his face, pulled him toward her, and said, "Nick, if you wanted to indulge in moonlit kisses, why didn't you ask me?"

Then Sarah, completely of her own volition, fused her mouth with his.

Nick was accustomed to the lust that slammed into him like a hot, greedy fist. What he didn't expect was the sense of coming home that flooded through him like a warm and gentle rain.

He wrapped his arms around her and gathered her against him, drowning in the sweet, luscious taste of her tender kiss. She felt like heaven in his arms. He'd missed her. Caught up in the strategy of winning her, of denying himself the pleasure of seduction, he hadn't realized how much he missed just holding her.

Nick groaned against her mouth and she stretched like a cat and purred in return. The sound shuddered through him. Unable to resist, he deepened the kiss.

His tongue delved into her mouth, stroked her sweet velvet softness. She answered him, played with him, tested the bounds of his control. Seconds passed and the need within him spiraled. Again and again and again he plundered her mouth, giving her the reminder she'd requested, stoking the desire that had hummed between them for so long. God, how he wanted this. Wanted her.

What would he do if she left him?

Fear struck like a bullet.
No. I won't let that happen. I won't let you go. You're mine, Sarah. Mine!

In an instant, the tenor of his touch changed. She wanted reminding, did she? Fine. He was good at this, better than good, and it was time she allowed him to show her. She'd given him an opening, and Nick, by God, would take it.

He growled deep in his throat and yanked her against him. He crushed her mouth with his as his hands swept mercilessly over her, determined to arouse, to inflame, to bring her to the razor edge of need upon which he himself stood in balance.

She whimpered and wriggled and dropped her head back, offering herself. Nick felt the pounding of her pulse as his lips feasted on her neck. His nostrils flared as the scent of arousal perfumed the air, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to toss up her skirts and take her then and there.

Wild and feral, he half carried, half dragged her deeper into the shadows and there, in the darkness, he blessed the current fashion of ball gowns and made short work of baring her breasts.

Allowing her no time for fear or doubt, he drew one nipple into his hungry mouth while his hand kneaded the other breast. She gave a soft cry and tellingly clasped him to her. Ruthlessly his hands delved beneath her skirt, coaxed and stroked and pushed past the barriers of fine underclothes to find the softest silk of all.