Read Online Lady Sarah's Redemption by Beverley Eikli - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beverley Eikli
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effect, and she
did so now, playing to her young charge as if Caro were the most handsome,
gallant gentleman in a room crowded with them.
“Since you have asked me so charmingly to play for you, sir, how can
I refuse?” she asked, inclining her head coquettishly and sweeping Caro a
smouldering look from beneath downcast lashes. “ Any requests from such a handsome gentleman, will be happily
acceded to.”
Caro’s eyes widened at the double entendre though she stammered,
obligingly, “Perhaps, Miss, you would regale the company with Over Yonder Mountain ?”
Sarah affected a show of false modesty. “Oh, but you will think my
singing very poor after what you have already heard this evening.” With a
dazzling smile she took a deep breath so that the swell of her breasts could
not fail to be admired above the line of her low cut evening dress. “However,
if you insist.” Sarah sank gracefully onto the piano stool and began to sing in
tune to the emotional music.
Everything this evening had been play acting. But this, her singing,
was real, and her voice was exquisite. She knew men found her attractive, but
the many sincere compliments she’d received on her voice were even more
gratifying. She adored music. Until now, she hadn’t realised how much she’d
missed it in this sad, songless house.
Soon Caro, who Sarah knew worked hard to maintain a cynical
exterior, was dashing tears away.
The strains of the last chord drifted into nothing but Caro did not
applaud; just stared at her governess with wonder while Sarah was filled with a
sudden sadness for the home she had left behind, and the lovable, tyrannical
father who would probably be out of his mind with grief.
Footsteps sounded from beyond the open French doors that led onto
the terrace behind her. Alarmed, Sarah half turned, then rose and stepped out
from behind the piano stool.
The footsteps stopped. There was silence. Mr Hawthorne stood on the
threshold to the garden, his face blanched by moonlight. He looked as if he’d
seen a ghost.
Sarah’s hand went to her breast, as if to still her thundering
heart. Her mouth went dry.
Passionless? Had she once thought this man passionless?
The seconds became an agony of eternity as she waited for him to
come to her. She watched the play of emotions roil in the tortured depths of
his dark grey eyes. She thought he looked like a man who’d found Nirvana and
would risk his life to cross the crocodile-infested raging torrent to lay claim
to it.
In three strides he’d closed the distance between them. Then she was
in his embrace. Thrown backwards over his arm, helpless and not wanting to be
anything else, his mouth came down, swiftly and all-consumingly, upon hers.
She did not struggle. Objection was the last thing on her mind.
Breathing in his familiar smell of sandalwood and leather, she
twined her hands behind his neck. She could feel the pounding of his heart
beneath his waistcoat of watered silk, his hard chest pressed against her
breasts.
It was not a gentle kiss; rather the kiss of a man who fears his
chance may not come again and wants to plunder what he can before all is taken
away.
Sarah did not need gentleness. With her mind in thrall to her body
she surrendered herself wholeheartedly. The redoubling of his passion signalled
he’d registered her enthusiasm.
Clearly, he hadn’t registered her true identity.
Sarah wilted with want, bent to his will, consumed by a primal
determination to take everything this fascinating man could give her before he
realized his mistake.
She’d had many admirers but as a young, unmarried woman she’d been
kissed by only one man: her fiancé. This was infinitely more exciting.
She arched her back to achieve a more snug fit, and he responded,
skimming his hand the length of her body from cheek to thigh while his other
arm bore the full weight of her.
Waves of desire hit her with increasing force, coursed hotly through
her veins, and pooled in her lower belly.
She
did so now, playing to her young charge as if Caro were the most handsome,
gallant gentleman in a room crowded with them.
“Since you have asked me so charmingly to play for you, sir, how can
I refuse?” she asked, inclining her head coquettishly and sweeping Caro a
smouldering look from beneath downcast lashes. “ Any requests from such a handsome gentleman, will be happily
acceded to.”
Caro’s eyes widened at the double entendre though she stammered,
obligingly, “Perhaps, Miss, you would regale the company with Over Yonder Mountain ?”
Sarah affected a show of false modesty. “Oh, but you will think my
singing very poor after what you have already heard this evening.” With a
dazzling smile she took a deep breath so that the swell of her breasts could
not fail to be admired above the line of her low cut evening dress. “However,
if you insist.” Sarah sank gracefully onto the piano stool and began to sing in
tune to the emotional music.
Everything this evening had been play acting. But this, her singing,
was real, and her voice was exquisite. She knew men found her attractive, but
the many sincere compliments she’d received on her voice were even more
gratifying. She adored music. Until now, she hadn’t realised how much she’d
missed it in this sad, songless house.
Soon Caro, who Sarah knew worked hard to maintain a cynical
exterior, was dashing tears away.
The strains of the last chord drifted into nothing but Caro did not
applaud; just stared at her governess with wonder while Sarah was filled with a
sudden sadness for the home she had left behind, and the lovable, tyrannical
father who would probably be out of his mind with grief.
Footsteps sounded from beyond the open French doors that led onto
the terrace behind her. Alarmed, Sarah half turned, then rose and stepped out
from behind the piano stool.
The footsteps stopped. There was silence. Mr Hawthorne stood on the
threshold to the garden, his face blanched by moonlight. He looked as if he’d
seen a ghost.
Sarah’s hand went to her breast, as if to still her thundering
heart. Her mouth went dry.
Passionless? Had she once thought this man passionless?
The seconds became an agony of eternity as she waited for him to
come to her. She watched the play of emotions roil in the tortured depths of
his dark grey eyes. She thought he looked like a man who’d found Nirvana and
would risk his life to cross the crocodile-infested raging torrent to lay claim
to it.
In three strides he’d closed the distance between them. Then she was
in his embrace. Thrown backwards over his arm, helpless and not wanting to be
anything else, his mouth came down, swiftly and all-consumingly, upon hers.
She did not struggle. Objection was the last thing on her mind.
Breathing in his familiar smell of sandalwood and leather, she
twined her hands behind his neck. She could feel the pounding of his heart
beneath his waistcoat of watered silk, his hard chest pressed against her
breasts.
It was not a gentle kiss; rather the kiss of a man who fears his
chance may not come again and wants to plunder what he can before all is taken
away.
Sarah did not need gentleness. With her mind in thrall to her body
she surrendered herself wholeheartedly. The redoubling of his passion signalled
he’d registered her enthusiasm.
Clearly, he hadn’t registered her true identity.
Sarah wilted with want, bent to his will, consumed by a primal
determination to take everything this fascinating man could give her before he
realized his mistake.
She’d had many admirers but as a young, unmarried woman she’d been
kissed by only one man: her fiancé. This was infinitely more exciting.
She arched her back to achieve a more snug fit, and he responded,
skimming his hand the length of her body from cheek to thigh while his other
arm bore the full weight of her.
Waves of desire hit her with increasing force, coursed hotly through
her veins, and pooled in her lower belly.
She
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