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She turned to him. A pulse of yearning passed between them. The damp air and the rhythm of the tide were the same as that night in the sea cave. Kenver bent and kissed her.
Her arms came up around his neck in eager response. Her mouth softened and yielded, following his lead. He pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together, letting his hands go where they would. Desire burned through Kenver’s veins. Clothing seemed an intolerable barrier. His pulse pounded.
Kenver pulled back, breathing hard. She was his wife. They had a right to all the dizzying delights of passion. With ample time, in comfort. He was not going to pull her down into dew-laden bushes under Fingal’s puzzled gaze. This was his home. By God, he would take her to his room and deuce take anyone who tried to interfere.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and swept her along, striding so fast that he lifted her from the ground once or twice. Sarah made no objection. She seemed as eager as he.
Kenver rushed her through the door and up a side stair. But when they reached his bedchamber, they found the door open and Cranston standing inside. “What are you doing here?” Kenver demanded.
“I came to inquire about my lady. No one seemed to know where she’d gone.”
The woman’s gaze ran over them, making Kenver keenly aware of their flushed faces and disheveled garments. Cranston clearly dared to disapprove. As if this was any of her affair. Rage at this unconscionable interference, fired by thwarted desire, burned through him. “You overstep,” he said. “Get out.”
“I believe I know my duties,” Cranston answered.
“Obviously you do not, as I have told you to leave. Entirely. My wife no longer requires your services.”
“I take my orders from Lady Trestan.”
“Well, you may go and tell her what I said,” Kenver answered.
“Lady Trestan has retired for the night,” the woman replied without a trace of deference. “She will be quite annoyed if I disturb her.”
“I said go, Cranston!” He glared at her.
Cranston held his gaze for much too long. Then she turned and walked slowly out of the room. Kenver had no doubt she was lingering just around the corner to overhear anything they said. Or did. He felt a keen desire to throttle something.
“I’d best go to my room,” Sarah said.
The romantic mood had certainly been squashed. Sarah looked strained and unhappy. “We will move into the state suite as soon as the guests depart,” Kenver said. “Our own private quarters where no one will disturb us.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t sound as if she believed him. “I will make sure of it,” he added.
Sarah nodded and moved away. The set of her shoulders looked defeated.
Kenver ground his teeth.
When Sarah climbed into the Tereford carriage with Cecelia after breakfast the next day, she felt the muscles in her neck and back ease. The relief was amazing. She could almost pretend that she was still just Sarah Moran and none of the events of the last few weeks had happened. If she wished to. Did she? Swinging from burning desire to frozen contempt, and back again, was wretched.
A brush of the dizzy arousal from Kenver’s kisses came back to her. She couldn’t wish him away. But why couldn’t she have met him in the usual way, at a ball or an evening party, and become acquainted with him before they were married?
That was to assume he would have approached her at such an event, a dry inner voice pointed out. She hadn’t attracted that sort of attention in London. And his family would have discouraged any connection between them.
“Are you all right, Sarah?” Cecelia asked as they drove.
She was shaken and uneasy. Last night, in the soft sea air, she’d been whirled to the heights. And then, outside Kenver’s bedchamber, she’d been pulled to the depths. Sarah wasn’t accustomed to such swings. She was even-tempered, calm. At least, she always had been.
“This marriage, are you happy with it?” Cecelia continued. “I can’t tell. You are such a quiet person.”
“When Kenver and I are alone, all seems…very well.” And could be much more, if they had time together, Sarah thought.
“Yes?” Cecelia nodded. “That is the most important part.”
“But not the only one. Particularly because we are living with his family.”
The duchess did not pretend to misunderstand. “I think we are making inroads with the countess. She told me this morning that you had decent taste in evening dress.”
