AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Indeed. I keep the tropicals here. Come.” He produced a key and opened the door.
A rush of warm, moist air flowed over her, bearing the scent of earth and flowers.
“As I said at the opera, my little slice of paradise.” He closed the door behind them. “And now, with you here, the most beautiful blossom of all has joined these, and my heaven is complete.” He approached her slowly, holding out his arm. “My latest treasure lies this way.”
She allowed him to guide her past perfect blossoms of jasmine and hibiscus. Orchids of all varieties painted a riot of color all around, and the tinkling of water played a merry tune from some hidden place. When they reached its source, a small decorative fountain, Fairford stopped.
Reaching out, he gently lifted a trailing vine bearing bright, golden flowers the color of new butter. The bell-like blooms emitted a heady cloud of scent, enveloping them in a cocoon of sweetness. “Here is a flower that has had no name given it—until now,” he said, turning toward her. “I named it after you, hoping it would make amends for my treatment of you when we first met. I sent in the petition to the Royal Botanical Society weeks ago. They sent the approval yesterday, just in time.” Plucking an envelope from his coat pocket, he presented it to her.
Opening it, she scanned the enclosed paper until she saw it: Jasminum-Sabrinus Floridum.
He’d named a bloody flower after her.
What did one say in response to such a thing? “I—I’m not…what I mean to say is…”
Stepping forward, he gently grasped her shoulders. “Sabrina, since the day we met, I’ve been able to think of little else but you. I’ve come to adore you, to long for you, my darling.”
It was all she could do not to burst into laughter. For all its naïveté, Chadwick’s heartfelt declaration had been much more inspiring. Fairford’s was nothing more than a pretty phrase concocted to dupe her into believing the lie of his regard. There was no true feeling behind it whatsoever. Still, that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Telling herself it was the right decision, she slowly lowered her lashes, giving him the smoldering stare she’d learned from watching her sisters, the same one she had practiced in the mirror since the age of nine.
Emboldened, Fairford ran a single finger a
long her shoulder where it merged into the column of her neck.
Closing her eyes, she obliged, bending her neck to accommodate.
Bending, he ran the tip of his tongue along the line of her collarbone.
She expected a rush of pleasant sensation to flood through her the way it had before. The way it had with Henry. But there was nothing. Nothing but mild irritation at the rasp of his stubble against her delicate skin and a shudder of distaste. She quashed it and made herself bring her hands up to his shoulders.
Bending her back, Fairford flicked his tongue across the hollow at her throat, then took her chin in his hand and claimed her mouth.
She wanted to scream in frustration. It was revolting! She felt as if he were trying to suffocate her with his tongue—and he tasted all wrong. Where was the lightning in her veins? Where was the familiar pull in her belly?
Where was Henry?
Stubbornly, she silenced the thought and tried to concentrate on the moment, on making her body feel passion.
It was impossible. Memories of Henry kept intruding, until finally she could take no more. Pulling away suddenly, she turned so Fairford wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes—that she was repulsed by him. Her hands trembled as she brought them to her face.
“Sabrina, darling,” said Fairford, lust making his voice rough. “I shall speak with my father tonight. No doubt he’ll be thrilled with my selection. You’ll make a fine baroness.”
Her hackles rose at his peremptory attitude. His “selection” indeed! Why, the arrogance of the man! Who did he think he was? She was an earl’s daughter, and he a mere baron’s son. And to assume that she would marry him without even the preamble of courtship?
Her next act was impetuous, born of swift, hot anger.
“I…oh, dear me, how awkward!” she gasped, casting her eyes down as though stricken with embarrassment. “I think I must have misunderstood your intent. I did not take your declaration as a proposal of marriage, but of courtship. I feel I must inform you that Lord Montgomery has also declared his devotion to me, and as I was unaware of your interest at the time, I’ve already permitted him to press his suit.”
Fairford froze, his smile fading. “You’ll tell him he must withdraw it at once, naturally.”
She looked him directly in the eye. “A lady may have as many suitors as she pleases until she becomes engaged, my lord. Since I hardly know you well enough to agree to such a serious commitment, I should like a bit of time to become better acquainted before making my decision.”
His smug expression evaporated. As quickly as she’d seen it flicker across his face, however, the momentary flare of ire was hidden behind a contrite mask.
“Forgive my gross assumption. I suppose I’d rather hoped you’d set your heart on having me to the exclusion of all others.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Perhaps I also misunderstood your intent, my lord. Are you not also currently paying court to Miss Gertrude Bidewell?” Touché!
