Chapter Six
Middle Plantation, Virginia
Nick Beaumont paused at the top of the stairs and smiled at the sunshine that poured in through the foyer’s tall windows. Mornings were his favorite time, with the air crisp and washed clean with sunlight. Energy filled him, and he eagerly embraced the new day. Turning back, he looked over at the door of Sarah’s room. Would she smile if he slipped open the door and kissed her into waking? The clock in the hall struck half past the hour of six, and Nick continued down the stairs whistling softly between his teeth. He’d let her sleep. In fact, he thought, I’ll have Mrs. Killingham fix a tray that I shall take up myself. He remembered the last time he had brought breakfast to a woman in bed and his smile grew deeper. Sarah would taste delicious.
Wadsworth greeted him in the study with a fresh pot of coffee and a dower expression.
“ ‘Tis a beautiful day, Wadsworth, is it not?”
Wadsworth nodded silently. He understood all the master’s quirks except this one. Rousing from his warm bed when the sun had just touched the sky with its light had never brought him joy, and he often thought that had the situations been reversed, and he the master, he’d stay snuggled beneath the covers until he was called to the midday meal. Wadsworth struggled to keep his eyes open as he poured coffee into a pewter mug.
“I’d like you to instruct Mrs. Killingham to prepare a tray for our guest.” Nick continued as he began to shift through his papers. “I’ll take it up to her myself in about an hour.”
Wadsworth paused in the doorway, his brow wrinkled in a frown. “For Miss Sarah?”
Nick sipped the hot brew. “Yes, and ask Mrs. Killingham if any of our strawberries are ripe. I have a taste for them this morning.”
Wadsworth took a step back into the study. “But Miss Sarah is already up.”
“She’s what?”
Wadsworth watched Nick’s eyes narrow as he pulled out his gold timepiece, and for the first time that morning he felt a grin tug at this mouth. “Miss Sarah was already in the cookhouse when Mrs. Killingham arrived this morning. Gave both of them a good start, I must say.” Wadsworth struggled not to smile openly at the stunned look that covered the master’s face. “Now I believe she is in the herb bed . . . pulling weeds,” he declared solemnly.
Nick flopped back in his chair. “She’s pulling weeds?”
Wadsworth nodded, and turned back to the door. “And from the look of it, sir, the lady knows what she is about.”
Nick stared blindly at the correspondence before him. Why on earth had she risen so early? Had she slept badly? Was she not comfortable? Did her room not suit her? With quick, efficient motions he gathered his papers and tucked them back into his desk and locked the drawer. What I need, he thought, is a good brisk walk in the garden.
Nick found Sarah kneeling on the brick walk that edged the herb garden. Her hair was completely covered by a white cloth and although she wore the same black dress from the night before, much of the skirt was hidden by a large white apron. At first glance she could have been any servant tending to morning chores. But on closer look, one noticed the delicate wrist and the long, slender fingers as they competently attended their task. Sarah hummed an unfamiliar tune and seemed completely at ease with her chore. Nick thought of Marigold and shuddered.
In his mind he could hear her breathy whisper as she hinted for another piece of jewelry, preferably a betrothal ring. He tried to imagine her tending a garden, but the image refused to come.
A sharp breeze whisked through the garden, and Nick looked up at the sky in surprise. The sun had vanished and a heavy gray cloud now hung overhead. Deciding they were in for another unpredictable spring storm, he took but a single step in Sarah’s direction before his feet refused to move any farther. There, on the path directly before him where Sarah was working, a single beam of sun broke through the clouds. Startling in its brightness, it illuminated Sarah with its intensity. Nick watched as she paused and brushed the dirt from her fingers. She tipped her head back and smiled toward the heavens. The sunbeam began to grow brighter as it expanded to encompass the surrounding gardens. Nick looked up at the sky in amazement. The clouds had vanished. Turning back to Sarah, he found her again tugging at the weeds. Nick looked at the glowing sun until his eyes hurt from the brightness. Blinking, he rubbed his hands against the spots that still burned from behind his closed lids. Had he imagined it? Shaking his head, he wiped the moisture from his eyes and took a step toward Sarah. Surely she had noticed the strange event.
“Sarah . . .” His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, and Nick suppressed a smile as she jumped.
“My word, Mr. Beaumont.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “You’ve given me quite a fright. ‘Tis most impolite to sneak up on someone like that.”
Now he did smile. “Forgive me,” he said quietly, not adding that he wasn’t in the habit of announcing himself in his own garden. He watched her hastily brush the dirt from her fingers and extended his hand to help her rise. But when she stood, Nick found himself reluctant to let her go. The bright violet of her eyes rivaled the deep purple of the pansies that bordered the walkway and her thick, dark lashes were in sharp contrast to the milky whiteness of her skin. Nick felt his heart quicken as he glanced down at their linked hands, hers delicate and pale, his large and dark. He smiled again as he watched her nervously tug her fingers from his.
“Did you wish to speak with me?” Sarah struggled to keep her voice even. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she wondered if its loudness was the reason for his smile.
Nick gave her a curious stare and made no comment when she took a hasty step backward. “Did you notice anything peculiar about the weather just a moment ago?”
Whatever she had been expecting, it was not for him to comment about the weather. Sarah cleared her throat and wondered why he had to smell so fresh. Shading her eyes, she looked up at the clear blue of the sky. “I think ‘twill be a beautiful day.”
Nick’s brow wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “But just a moment ago, did you not see anything strange?” Sarah answered with a puzzled look, and Nick shook his head, convinced that his mind had taken to playing tricks. “Why did you leave your bed so early? Did you not sleep well? Is your room not comfortable?”
Sarah’s eyes widened with amazement. “The room is lovely.”
Fascinated with the soft fullness of her lips, Nick took a step closer. “Then why aren’t you still there?”
“You wish me to remain in my room? Have I done something to displease you?”
Nick shook his head and wondered why nothing was making sense. “You please me fine.” He whispered, snaking an arm around her waist. “In fact, better than most.” Her eyes were wary; still, he was unable to resist. His lips brushed feather-light across hers. Just a taste, he told himself. But Nick wasn’t prepared for the rush of desire that had him tightening his arms, pulling her close, then closer still. He had expected a cool reserve, not heat that seared the last of his reasoning. Again and again his lips pressed in gentle persuasion against hers until her lips parted on a moan and his tongue gained access. Like a man dying of thirst, he drank of her sweetness.
Sarah felt the heat of his body and her bones melted. The dream that she had never dared to linger on now bloomed into reality. She met passion with passion and gave more than he would have willing taken, sunning them both in the process.
Gasping, with her hand pressed to her heart, Sarah pulled from Nick’s embrace. Her breathing came hard and labored, but it silently pleased her that his was just as unsteady.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Stunned that she had uttered the very words on his tongue, Nick wondered if things with Sarah would ever be what he expected. “There is nothing to be sorry for.” he said quietly, trying not to frown when she stepped back as he stepped forward. “I was only gong to suggest that we return to the house for a more private interlude.”
Sarah felt her
fist clench, though she knew she had no right to be angry. After what they had just shared, he had just cause to think the worst of her. Guilty in her own mind, she squared her shoulders and prepared to take her punishment.
“ ‘Twas most unseemly for me to have. . .” She searched to find the proper words. “To have done that.” Her voice wavered as she struggled to find control. “I pray that you will not think harshly of me.”
Nick frowned at the picture she presented. They had shared a moment of bliss unlike any he had known, yet now she stood as a schoolchild ready to extend her hand for the rod of correction.
“Sarah . . .” He groped for the words that might make it right for her. “We are two adults and we shared a moment of pleasure. Surely there is no sin in that.”
Her eyes looked doubtful. “The sins of the flesh are many. But I’ve never . . .” Her cheeks blossomed with color as she looked down at their feet.
“You’ve never what?” he prompted, fascinated with her.
Her eyes lifted to his then quickly darted away. “I’ve never felt that way before. Not that I’ve been kissed by many.”
Nick grinned and stepped back to lean against the thick base of the pecan tree. “How many?”
Her face snapped back to glare at him as her eyes grew wide. “I must not speak of such things with you.”
His grin deepened, and his dimples winked at her distress. “How many? Ten, twenty . . . How many men have you kissed?”
Horrified that he could even think such of her, Sarah pulled her shoulders erect and gave him her coldest glare. “You insult me with your assumptions. If you must know, ‘twas only one.”
“You’ve only kissed one man or you’ve only been kissed once?”
Sarah closed her eyes and silently prayed for salvation. “George Porter kissed me once behind the barn. I was feeding the chickens.”
Nick struggled not to laugh. Her stiff posture and fiery cheeks told him she was already in completely over her head. “I see,” he said solemnly. “And just how did you find that kiss?”
Sarah suppressed a shudder at the memory. “‘Twas wet.” Her eyes lifted to his, and she wondered why his gaze could make her knees go weak. “But just now . . .”
“Go on,” Nick prompted.
Sarah took a deep breath. “I think I have discovered the true meaning of temptation.” Nick’s smile turned to heat before her eyes.
“Then you liked what we shared?” He stepped forward, but this time she stepped back.
“Never would I have believed such feelings could exist,” she admitted in innocence. She took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. “But ‘tis something that cannot be allowed to happen again. Without the sanctity of marriage, the pleasures we shared are unholy and foul.”
Nick’s smile vanished. “Ha!” he snapped. “So you want marriage, just like the others.” He watched a sad smile cross her face.
“No, Mr. Beaumont,” she said quietly. “What I want is to go back to my family.”
Nick watched in stunned silence as she turned and steadily walked back to the house.