Chapter 15
“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Black?” Reverend Thackeray declared. Sabrina stood at the front of the small chapel, her hand lightly resting on Riordan’s arm. The entire congregation stared at them, some with mouths agape. Shocked murmurs rose from the pews. “Isn’t she the baron’s daughter?” One young lady even cried out, “No!” Sabrina scanned the small crowd and found the woman. The look of distress on her face showed she harbored a tendre for Riordan. No doubt more than one young lady had found herself infatuated with the handsome schoolmaster.
When services concluded, the vicar insisted upon announcing the marriage. Sabrina made a point of asking that he not call her Lady Pepperdon. She could’ve kept the courtesy title while married to a commoner, but in truth she was glad to be shunt of the earl’s name. Next would be to banish him from her memory entirely.
Initially, the vicar had acted affronted that they’d traveled to London to see the deed done, and then aghast when Riordan told him they’d married at a registrar’s office. The man had the audacity to ask to see the certificate. Riordan must have guessed that he would, because he had it tucked in his coat pocket. Once Reverend Thackeray established they were indeed married, he stated that the announcement must be made.
Good heavens, she didn’t like being on display like this. Riordan must have sensed her stiffen next to him, for he laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed it gently. Eventually a small number of people came forward and offered congratulations, but the rest followed the vicar toward the main entrance to make their exit.
“Let’s slip out the side door,” Riordan whispered.
“Oh, could we?”
Riordan nodded toward Mary, who returned a smile as she headed down the aisle. Stepping out into the sunshine, Sabrina exhaled.
“It’s over with. After a bit of tittle-tattle over tea in various parlors and kitchens, everyone will move on with their lives and forget us,” Riordan said, his tone reassuring.
Sabrina had grown up in this area; it had been always a focus of gossip. Thankfully, her father had not attended Sunday services today. His attendance over the years had been sporadic and unpredictable. Move forward. No looking back.
“The farm is not far. A good stretch of the legs.”
“I could do with a pleasant constitutional,” Sabrina stated, remembering when she’d last ventured on a walk: the day she had discovered Riordan and his mesmerizing, melodic schoolmaster voice. A small smile curved about her mouth.
After arriving at the Walsh farm and exchanging introductions, the mare was fixed with a sidesaddle and Riordan helped Sabrina mount. His large hands grasped her on either side of her waist, and his touch seared. The sensation was growing in intensity with each contact. As she collected the reins, she patted the butterscotch-colored mare’s strong neck.
Riordan climbed onto his magnificent horse with relative ease. Pulling on the reins, he brought the gelding about to stand next to her. “The mare’s name is Goldie.”
“I can see why yours is named Grayson. He’s beautiful. The black mane offsets his dapple gray color.”
As if he had heard the compliment, the horse kicked the dirt with his front hoof and nickered, giving his head a shake. A giggle escaped her.
“And he is a bit of a show-off. Shall we head out? Start with a trot and work up to a canter?”
As they travelled along the path leading from the Walsh farm, Sabrina tilted her head toward the sun. Though the air was slightly cool, the sun held comforting warmth. Birdsong sounded from the surrounding oak and juniper trees. The colorful autumn leaves shimmered with vibrancy. Everything was enhanced, bringing all her senses alive as never before. Because of Riordan.
“A beautiful day, is it not?” he asked.
“Completely glorious,” she replied dreamily.
“See the brook ahead? I’ll race you.”
“Hardly fair; I’m riding sidesaddle. Now, if I were astride, it would be a true race. In fact, I could beat you.”
He laughed, and the deep resonance of it made her heart skip a beat. “Then I will give you a head start.”
Leaning over Goldie, Sabrina shortened the reins and gave the mare a gentle kick with her heels. The horse needed no further encouragement; she vaulted forward, leaving Riordan and Grayson behind. It didn’t take long for pounding hooves to fill her hearing. Riordan caught up to her, and with a jaunty salute passed her. She dared not go any faster.
When she reached the brook, Riordan had already dismounted. She pulled up on the reins, slowing Goldie until the mare came to a full stop. “Being a gentleman, I should have let you win. But Grayson would not have it. He is from racing stock, and blood will win out.” He reached up to help her dismount. Heavens, he would be touching her again. Steeling herself from any reaction, she placed her hands on his shoulders.
Riordan lifted her from the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all. He held her aloft, his gaze searing and smoldering. Then he lowered her, close enough that his body made contact with her own. Her breasts brushed by his chest, her legs tangled with his. The friction was like flint to tinder. Still he held her gaze, and she could not look away. Blue fire crackled with life and danced in his eyes.
At last, her boots hit the ground. His hands remained about her waist. Gazing up at him, she marveled once again at his nearly flawless face. Already she could see dark bristles forming along his firm jawline. How she ached to run her fingers along it. “We should allow the horses to drink,” he said.
“Yes, of course.”
He stepped away and grabbed the reins, urging Grayson to the edge of the brook. She did the same with Goldie. “We should have brought a picnic lunch. It is still warm enough to enjoy one.” He pointed to the cluster of trees. “Right under there, it’s perfect.”
She glanced to where he pointed. It was perfect. Flat ground tucked under a shelter of trees. Sun shone through the gaps in the branches, creating a magical effect. “Perhaps next week, if the weather holds,” she offered.
“Ah.” He inclined his head toward the horses still drinking. “They will be fine.” He took her gloved hand, threading her fingers through his. He did it naturally, as if they always held hands. “Next Sunday I’ll be heading to my family home. Nothing serious. I will return Monday night. The board has granted me a personal day. I’m sure it will be the last one for a while.”
“Oh.”
“You will not be alone. I’ll ask Mary to stay with you for the night I’m away.”
“Thank you.”
“You look lovely today.”
A hot flush spread across her cheeks at his compliment. She wore merely a plain wool dress and her cloak, with a gray linen bonnet with a silk flower on the brim. This morning, Mary had wound her plait into a bun pinned at the nape of her neck. “Thank you.”
“Not used to compliments?”
“Oh, dear, does it show? I’m not. But I do appreciate it.”
“The fresh air and ride have done you a world of good. You are flush with health and color. It’s entirely appealing. Enhances your natural beauty. And I’m not spouting false praise to win your favor; I mean what I say. Always.”
As if he had to win her favor. She innately understood his sincerity was genuine. His words warmed her more than the autumn sun high in the sky. “Allow me to compliment you. I’m in awe of how you have handled this entire situation, from my bizarre request to managing my father and the earl, and the plans for the actual marriage. The agreements and the living arrangements…all has gone smoothly. Your career as an organized schoolmaster does you credit.”
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and laid a quick kiss on it. “Why, thank you, my lady. Let us hope all remains smooth.”
“What are your plans for the future, regarding your career? What do you want from life?” she asked.
They stopped under the cluster of trees. The horses stayed by the edge of the brook, alternating between drinking the water and grazing on the grass growing nearby. “All I can think about is what I want right now.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
He caught her gaze and held it. Again his expression smoldered. “To lean you against the trunk of this oak tree and run my hands over your lovely curves. Across your waist to your glorious breasts, where I would cup and caress them until you gave a sensual moan in reply.” He stepped closer. The husky tone of his voice caused her to tremble with yearning. He should not be speaking to her this way. Not at all. But she could not tear her eyes away from him, nor muster the words to tell him to stop.
“I would continue on my journey, pull the pins from your hair. See it hang long about your shoulders. Run my fingers through the silken strands while I inhale your citrus scent. Nuzzle your delicate neck, pull you close into my embrace.”
Both of them were breathing hard. Aroused. Yes, she was aroused from his heated, sensual words. Dear heavens. How to respond?
Riordan took another step. They were inches apart. “Do you feel it? What is between us?” Sabrina could only nod. “Despite what I want, what I…desire,” he continued, “I will settle for a kiss.”
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Should we keep doing this? Kissing, I mean.”
“Yes. In the same way we should keep breathing.” He did not give her a chance to respond, just swept her up into a bracing kiss. He clasped the nape of her neck, sending her bonnet slightly askew. “Kiss me in return, Sabrina,” he rasped.
His gently spoken but urgent demand gave her courage. She threw her arms around his neck and followed his movements, brushing her lips across his until a husky moan escaped his throat. When it did, she thrust her tongue into his mouth as he had with her yesterday. Sinful. Completely wonderful.
“Oh, God,” he murmured. In response, he wrapped his tongue about hers, caressing it, sending the flames of desire to a full roil. Sabrina was caught in a maelstrom of sensations. She wanted and needed more. Riordan clasped her cheeks, gasping, then leaned his forehead against hers. “Listen to me. Any chance I am able, I will be kissing you. I can’t not kiss you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, gulping deeply, trying to regulate her breathing as she did.
“Do you want me to kiss you? If not, tell me. Here. Now. We will coexist as friendly acquaintances and nothing else.”
How would she survive the next three months? The Sabrina of the past would have coldly rebuffed his passionate plea, even acted pitiless in the face of his raw and honest emotions. But in the span of mere weeks, she’d changed. It was all due to Riordan. She longed for his kiss. Yearned. At this moment? It was all she wanted. “Yes. Kiss me. Always.”
He pulled her into his arms and she melted. “Brilliant. I don’t know what I would have done if you had said no.”
They stood together for several minutes. Sabrina did not even care that his arousal was pressed against her. She did not pull away in horror, but instead soaked in his warmth. The hardness of him. For the first time in years she felt…safe. Protected.
Grayson nickered loudly and they parted. Riordan chuckled. “I believe the horses are anxious to be on their way.”
“Could we walk along the brook first? The day is lovely, and the winter season will soon be upon us. I want to savor it.” And savor you. Yes, she shamelessly wished to be as close to him as possible. Take his arm, lean against his tall, muscular body. How astounding that she did not find any of this abhorrent. Perhaps the six years in which Pepperdon had left her alone before he died had allowed her to heal somewhat. But how much? Enough to allow more than kisses? Not possible. Pepperdon had ruined her from ever wanting a deep intimacy with any man.
Or had he?
* * * *
Once they arrived at the farm, they headed to the stable to leave the horses. Sabrina stumbled and Riordan rushed to her side.
“You’re tired. I will take you to the cottage on Grayson.”
“No, I will be able to walk.”
Riordan leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Whether or not you are able to walk, indulge me. I want you in my arms.”
Another roll of heat moved through her. Riding together on his horse? “Will he manage both of us?”
Riordan handed Goldie’s reins to Farmer Walsh. “Absolutely.” He lifted her up onto the saddle and gracefully mounted behind her. “Farmer Walsh, I will return shortly.”
The farmer touched his forelock. “Grayson will enjoy the extra exercise, sir.”
“That he will.” Riordan urged the gelding forward at a slow trot. In a low voice that only she could hear, he said, “And give me an opportunity to be close to you.”
Pleased at his words, she leaned against his chest and sighed contentedly. Riordan kissed the exposed area of her neck between her bonnet and the collar of her cloak. This continued for several moments, until a small girl’s voice broke through her dreamy thoughts.
“Mr. Black, Mr. Black!”
Sabrina sat upright, her gaze sliding toward the sound. A girl, probably no more than six or seven, stood on the path. She wore a shabby pinafore over a plaid dress, her golden blond hair pinned haphazardly, with several tendrils hanging loose, framing her pretty face. She clutched several pieces of paper. Her face lit up at the sight of Riordan. Goodness, he even charmed small children.
“My youngest student. One moment.” He slid off Grayson and strode toward the small girl, who immediately broke into a sprint, throwing herself at him. Riordan hunched down and held out his arms. The girl laughed with pure joy as Riordan gathered her into a warm hug and lifted her upward. The sight of Riordan with a small child tugged at her heart, making it ache with longing. Someday, once he was free from this situation, he would make a fine father.
“Momma told me you got married. I drew you pictures,” the girl cried.
“Did you? Does your momma know you’re here?”
The girl shook her head. “She’s asleep.”
“Annabelle, this is my wife, Mrs. Black. Say hello.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Black,” the girl answered in a singsong voice.
“Good afternoon, Annabelle.”
Riordan lowered the child. Annabelle held out the papers toward him, and he took them and studied them closely. “Well done. Is that me standing outside a church?”
Annabelle nodded vigorously as she chewed on the side of her finger. “Uh huh. And your wife. She’s holding flowers.”
“Pretty bluebells, or are they daisies? I will hang these pictures in my cottage, I promise. But we must get you home, Annabelle, before your mother starts to worry. Are you cold?”
“A little.” The child was wandering about in the late autumn air without a cloak. Riordan slipped out of his frock coat and gathered it around Annabelle, causing Sabrina’s heart to squeeze once again at his thoughtfulness.
Riordan helped Sabrina down from the saddle, then handed her the papers. “I’ll drop Annabelle off at her home before returning Grayson. She is a handful, slipping out while her mother naps. She has no siblings, and the father left years ago.” It explained much. The girl looked to Riordan as a father figure.
“Of course. I will ensure Mary has tea ready for your return.”
Riordan smiled as he trailed the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Thank you, Mrs. Black. The cottage is straight ahead over the small rise. You can’t miss it.”
Oh. She flushed at his touch, the warmth slowly spreading through her.
Riordan gathered the child and placed her on the saddle, then mounted. “Wave goodbye, Annabelle.”
The girl giggled and gave Sabrina an enthusiastic wave. Sabrina returned it and watched as they rode away. She opened the papers and inspected the first pencil drawing. The picture was crudely drawn, as only a young child could accomplish. Annabelle had drawn Riordan as a tall stick figure with a broad smile and a head of wavy hair, hand-in-hand with a female figure in a long gown who held flowers. A large sun shone over them, and the girl had drawn what looked to be a rainbow arching over their heads and beds of flowers at their feet.
Tears gathered in Sabrina’s eyes. The picture moved her, for it captured her mood since marrying Riordan. Sunshine, warmth, smiles, and happiness. It hit her hard. She wanted this. With Riordan. For the rest of her days. But it was a fairy tale, and no more real than a drawing with stick figures. A dream. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she hugged the picture against her chest and watched Riordan and Annabelle disappear through the trees.
She was falling for the schoolmaster and had no idea what to do about it.