When Marrying a Scoundrel (13 page)

He must be out of his damn mind.

Once she gleefully had his draft in hand, La Rieux moved on to the next auction and the crowd no longer cared about Jack and Sadie, but Mason Blayne cared. That was obvious from the dark expression on the artist’s face as Jack offered his arm to Sadie.

“How about it, Madame Moon?” he asked with his most charming smile. “Ready to read my leaves?”

T
he evening had quickly spiraled out of control. Sadie kept a smile fixed on her face as curious spectators watched them, craning their necks to hear their conversation.

“You are very generous indeed, Mr. Friday,” she said with false tranquility. “But I would not dream of denying Madame La Rieux my assistance with the auction, nor these fine people of your company. Perhaps you would care to make an appointment?” It was the right thing to say, even though she wanted to yank him into a private room and tear into him for embarrassing her so!

“Of course,” he replied, equally as calm and false. “At your earliest convenience.”

Of course she saw that for the lie it was. Something had gotten him riled up and he wouldn’t rest until he let it out; she’d known it the minute their eyes met—saw all the emotion in his gaze that tonight would not end gently. His feelings for her were just as jumbled as hers for him, and Jack had never been quite as proficient as keeping things bottled up as she.

A thousand pounds? How the devil could he afford such a sum? Had he truly become so wealthy that he could toss it away so easily? Or was this all about proving something to her? He should know she wasn’t impressed by money—and never had been.

But she had to admit that part of her
was
impressed that he’d paid so much for her. Oh, he’d no doubt done it to embarrass Mason, but still. It warmed her more than it should have.

She’d have some explaining to do to Mason later, however. What the bloody hell would she tell him? She could no doubt lie in a manner he’d believe, but had the damage been done? A man had his pride, after all.

As if on cue, Mason chose that moment to approach them, giving Sadie no option but to introduce them and watch them posture.

Jack offered his hand first, along with a grin that was as mocking as it was charming. “Mr. Blayne, I’m a great admirer of your work. You will forgive my competitiveness, I hope? It is for charity, and all that.”

Mason, gentleman that he was, accepted both hand and words with a graceful nod of his head. “Of course, Mr. Friday. The lovely Madame Moon has read my leaves in the past and I’m certain she’ll have the opportunity to read them again. No need for me to be greedy. It is, as you say, for charity, after all.”

They just stood there, taking each other’s measure whilst trying to look disinterested. She could knock both their heads together for being so foolish.

“Oh, Mason, look!” she cried overenthusiastically.
“Vienne’s about to start bidding for your painting. This should get people loosening their purse strings!”

That seemed to placate the artist somewhat, and he moved away from Jack to stand next to Sadie instead. Only then did Jack move to her other side, so that she was flanked by the two of them like cucumber between two slices of bread. She could just walk away from both of them, but she didn’t.

Jack surprised her by bidding on Mason’s painting. Mason was obviously surprised as well, casting a suspicious glance Jack’s way. Ultimately the painting went to another buyer, which made Jack look all the better. He hadn’t gone out of his way to win the painting as he had Sadie, but his bids made the other bidder climb higher, and the winning bid was indeed a large sum.

In fact, Jack bid on several items throughout the evening, helping Vienne’s auction raise much more money. Sadie knew her husband well enough to know his sudden philanthropic behavior wasn’t just out of the goodness of his heart. By bidding on other items, he diminished the fact that the only thing he’d actually won was her. It didn’t change that he had humiliated her, but it softened it somewhat. Her reputation just might escape relatively unscathed.

Just when she thought him without conscience, he did this. Why? What was the motive behind it all?

As the evening wore on, the situation began to wear on her as well, until Sadie was certain she was going to drive herself mad with all these questions. She should just demand answers from Jack, but that would no doubt
only make things worse. Besides, he was off being the social butterfly that he was, flitting from group to group, sometimes with Lady Gosling hanging off him, but more often without.

She shouldn’t care who he was with, but she did. She cared about that even more than she cared that Mason had drifted away from her. He stayed with her after Jack wondered off, but shortly after that—once he was certain he’d vanquished the competition?—he went off to talk to some of his friends who were in attendance. In his defense, he had asked Sadie to join him, but she’d refused with the excuse that she had her own people to see, but that was a blatant lie. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. And now, sometime later, she felt even less like it with her mind on fire as it was. What she wanted—what she needed—was a little peace and quiet before she exploded.

She stopped a footman and asked him to have a pot of tea and a small plate of sandwiches sent to one of the small, more private salons. Once that was arranged, she sought out Vienne and told her where she would be.

“I just need a few moments alone,” she replied when her friend expressed concern. “Half an hour at most, just to collect myself.”

Vienne smiled knowingly. “I will keep the tomcats from sniffing after you.”

Sadie winced slightly at the comparison, and squeezed Vienne’s hand in thanks before making her exit. As she moved away from the heat and noise, she immediately began to feel some relief. Out of that stuffy room the air
was cooler, the sound of chatter muffled. She rubbed the tender muscles of her neck as her footsteps fell softly on the floor.

The footman waited just outside the blue salon. As she approached, he bowed shallowly at the waist. “Tea and sandwiches, Madame Moon, just as you requested.”

Sadie smiled at him. “Thank you. You may go.”

Another bow and he took his leave. Sadie entered the small, opulent salon greeted by the fragrant steam of hot tea. It made her mouth water, as did the sight of the small plate heaped with a variety of soft, plump sandwiches. There was enough there for two people. Two cups as well. It made her feel alone.

She’d barely stripped off the first of her gloves before she heard the door close. Sadie whirled around, and her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Jack sliding the bolt. The sound of it echoed through the room like a hammer striking a nail.

“Have you lost all your manners since you left, Jack Farrington?” she demanded, palm pressed to her chest. “What the hell are you thinking? If anyone saw you—”

“No one saw. Not even your watchdog La Rieux.” Jack turned, and this time Sadie’s heart didn’t jump—it couldn’t move at all. His face was a mask of anguish, his lips tight in that way that told her he was chewing the inside of his mouth. She hadn’t seen that look on his face since the death of his mother.

“Do you…” His brows pulled together. “Do you remember the first time we made love?”

Immediately she was defensive. Did he think she could ever forget? Yet, he didn’t seem to be looking for a fight. He couldn’t even look her in the eye. No, it wasn’t a fight he wanted.

“Yes,” she replied in little more than a whisper. “I remember.”

“Good.” Now he looked at her, jaw tight. “Because I can’t seem to think of anything else.”

How was she to respond to that? “It’s because we left so much unsaid. It makes sense that all those things would haunt us now.”

“Haunt.” He made a noise in the back of his throat—like a growl. “That’s a good way to put it. You haunt me.”

Sadie took a step toward him. “Jack—”

He held up his hand, scowling. “I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can’t even fuck.” His harsh tone made the word all the more guttural. “You’ve totally unmanned me.”

This should not make her as happy as it did, but she was so buoyed by his words her feet felt as though they might leave the ground. “You haven’t…you haven’t
been
with Lady Gosling?”

He glared at her. “No. I can’t
be
with anyone because it feels like I’m being unfaithful. To
you
.”

She had to dig her toes into the carpet lest she float away. “Do you think it’s been any easier for me?” She pointed at the door. “Mason Blayne wants to court me and all I can think about is that he doesn’t kiss like you. You and your bloody sweet kisses have ruined everything!”

Like a big cat, he lunged into the room. “You’ve ruined
me
.”

They stared at each other for what seemed an age. Sadie’s chest heaved with the force of each breath. She was so angry. So happy and sad at the same time. So restless. What did they do now?

She knew what she wanted to do. It was the wrong thing. It would only make things worse, and yet she wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. Even more than she wanted her shop.

“Jack,” she murmured, moving toward him with stiff, uncertain steps. “Jack o’the mornin’.”

His frown eased at her thick Irish. “Sadiemoon, what are you about, lass?”

They were old words, often spoken long ago, but her heart remembered them oh-so sweetly.

Yes, she knew what she wanted. She didn’t speak. She simply closed the distance between them and unfastened the buttons of his jacket. He stood still as a statue, watching her as she slid her hands inside.

His torso was solid beneath her palms. Warmth permeated the fine lawn of his shirt and brocade waistcoat. She could feel the muscle there as her hands moved up his ribs, stopping when they reached the right spot. Then, with just the right amount of pressure—something else she would never forget—she dug her fingers in and wiggled them.

His entire body jumped. Hands seized hers, but not before she got what she wanted—his smile. His laughter. So very ticklish was her husband.

Creases ran down his cheeks, fanning out from his eyes as they squeezed shut. Big, white teeth flashed in
the tan of his face as laughter burst forth. Shamefully she had forgotten that sound and how much she loved it. Hearing it now was like opening a window on her soul and letting the sun in after too many dark nights.

It was like opening a dam inside her. Tears filled her eyes and spilled hotly down her cheeks. “I missed you,” she rasped. “I missed you so damn much.”

“God, Sadie.” He cupped her face with his palms, resting his forehead against hers. “It’s been so long.”

Her hands clutched at his back as she nuzzled her nose against his. “But it doesn’t feel it.”

“Don’t cry.” He wiped her tears with his thumbs, lifting his head enough to gaze down at her. “I missed you too.”

That only made the tears come faster. She wanted to tell him everything—why she hadn’t been there when he came back. Wanted to share with him those dark days that had fallen upon her shortly after he left. But what good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything. It would only bring those awful memories back, and make him feel worse than he already did.

They couldn’t turn back time, no matter how badly both of them might wish it.

“I don’t hate you,” she confessed, recalling the awful words she’d said that night in the garden. “I wanted to, but I never could.”

“Sshh. I know.” His lips found her damp cheek, near her eye. “I know.” His mouth was so soft and warm against her skin, tasting her tears. And when he claimed
her lips with his, she could taste the salt there, along with champagne.

Sadie tightened her arms around Jack, pressed herself against him as she lost herself to his kiss. It was undoubtedly wrong, but it felt so very, very right. She opened her mouth to his tongue, meeting it with her own. His fingers tightened on the back of her head, as though he feared she might pull away. But she wasn’t going anywhere.

He caught her lower lip between his teeth, sucking gently before kissing her deeply once more. Moaning softly, Sadie melted against him, like butter over hot bread. Every inch of her was alive and tingling—some more than others. Through her skirts she felt the hard length of his erection pressing against her. Oh, God. How she had missed the feel of him!

They moved as one, stumbling and swaying. Sadie had no idea where they were going until she felt the hard edge of something dig into her just below her bottom. The sofa, she thought.

Jack’s hands left her face and came down to her hips. She lifted her own arms to his neck to give him better access. He gripped her firmly and lifted—as though she weighed next to nothing—so that she now sat on the back of the well-padded sofa.

Then he broke the kiss.

For a moment, she thought he meant to end things there, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, staring into her eyes as he lowered his hands to the fabric of skirts and started bunching
it upward. She could stop him. She should stop him, but she didn’t.

At her knee he slipped his hands beneath the froth of silk and slid fingers and palms up her legs, over her garters to the naked flesh above. If only she’d had the forethought not to wear drawers.

Her skirts were at the top of her thighs now, his hands buried beneath. Breath caught in Sadie’s throat as one curious set of fingers slid between her legs to the damp cotton there. Still he didn’t look away as he found the slit in the undergarments and eased his fingers inside.

Sadie shuddered, her eyes drifting closed for one excruciatingly delightful second as Jack touched her where she most wanted his touch. Light, like the brush of butterfly wings, he grazed his fingers through the moist curls, awakening her sensitive flesh.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, his voice little more than a whisper.

Sadie did as he commanded, lifting her gaze to his and holding it there as his wonderful fingers parted the lips of her sex to stroke and tease. She could feel how wet she was, knew she was bound to become wetter still and she didn’t care. She was shameless at that moment, even going so far as to open her thighs further for his delicious exploration.

He found her magic spot—that little knot of flesh that stiffened and spasmed with delight at his touch. Gasping, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched her back, lifting her pelvis to his hand.

Jack’s eyes brightened. His high cheekbones flushed
ever so slightly as his lips—those sinful lips—parted. With his thumb he strummed her, sliding one long finger down to easily slip inside.