My Fair Groom (The Sons of the Aristocracy) Page 10

  “I’ll see to the tot,” Margery said with a wave of hand. “Little flirt always makes my day, he does.”

  Sarah gave the new barmaid a smile. “Mine, too. But he knows he has to or he won’t get fed,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She turned around to find the earl adjusting the position of the chairs so that the low table was between them. He waved at the chair closest to the door.

  “Please, my lady,” he said as he moved to take the other.

  Wondering what the earl had in mind with his conversation, Sarah took the proffered chair and settled herself, watching Gabriel as he did so. The man had matured far more than she would have expected given the amount of time that had passed since she last saw him. “The position of earl suits you,” she said, hoping to relax Gabriel. He seemed uncomfortable, and yet, so at home in the inn. How could that be?

  Gabriel gave her a nod. “I find I like it, actually,” he replied. “More responsibility than I imagined, but nothing I can’t handle. I have a very devoted estate manager, a competent secretary, and enough money to do what needs to be done to keep everything in working order.”

  Smiling, Sarah leaned forward. “And an heir on the way, perhaps?” From Gabriel’s sudden change of expression, Sarah realized she had erred in her assessment. “Forgive me,” she said quickly, knowing her face was blooming with color.

  “An heir would require a wife, and at the moment, I am still not married,” Gabriel stated, his manner suggesting the lack of wife was a sore point. “Which is why …”

  “The daughter of the most powerful man in Parliament was already …married?” she wondered, realizing too late she had interrupted the earl. Damnation! When he left her bedchamber the last time he was at the Spread Eagle, he had done so with the intention of courting and marrying the daughter of the most powerful lord in Parliament.

  Apparently, he hadn’t accomplished what he set out to do.

  Or perhaps he was in the process of courting. Sarah was about to apologize when Gabriel held up a hand.

  “Not exactly, but she did, just a few days after I was … going to propose,” he explained, hoping Sarah wouldn’t ask for more details.

  “A duke proposed before you had a chance?”

  Damn! Didn’t news from London reach the inn? Or maybe if it did, it wasn’t of significance to those who populated the small village in which the inn resided. These people had their own lives, after all. Their own families and jobs and concerns. They probably didn’t care about the machinations of the ton in London. Gabriel stilled himself, realizing he was going to have to explain himself fully. “A viscount, actually.” He dared not tell her the chit had been the one to propose to the viscount.

  Before Sarah could interrupt again, he held up a hand. “I am better off, I assure you,” he said with a degree of finality that suggested she should drop the subject.

  Elizabeth Carlington would have been a handful, he had since learned. Not only because she ran her own charity, which saw to finding employment for wounded soldiers, but because she was quite in love with her husband.

  George Bennett-Jones, Viscount Bostwick, was probably too accommodating when it came to his wife’s desires. At how many balls had the two of them been seen kissing? And not just in the gardens? And now that Lady Bostwick was probably about to bestow an heir on her husband, it seemed she was even more beholden to the man. Who would have figured the chit would turn out to be a wanton? Apparently there would be no mistresses in Viscount Bostwick’s future.

  Although, at the moment, Gabriel thought perhaps a wanton wife would be a welcome addition to his household in Bilston. For a brief moment, he imagined Sarah in his bedchamber. In his bed, dressed in nothing more than the bed linens. He had to shake his head to clear the image from his head.

  He told himself he was merely experiencing a dry spell in that he hadn’t bedded a woman since he gave up his mistresses in London. Trust, it seemed, had become more important than sexual intercourse. Who would have thought the Earl of Trenton would give up one of the perks of his position in the name of trust?

  “It has come to my attention that I am lacking in certain skills,” Gabriel stated finally, his statement made just as Margery appeared at the door with a tray laden with their ales and luncheon. “When it comes to farming,” Gabriel added quickly, not sure how much of their conversation Margery had overheard while she was still in the hallway.

  Understanding the reason for the earl’s comment, Sarah turned to Margery. “We’ve a rather important guest here today, Miss Fitzwilliam,” she said with a nod in Gabriel’s direction. “Gabriel Trenton, Earl of Trenton, will be spending the night here at the Spread Eagle. Do afford him every courtesy, won’t you?” she said as she introduced their visitor.

  Margery gave the earl the best curtsy she could manage considering she carried a rather heavy tray. “Welcome, milord,” the barmaid offered, setting her tray down on the table and distributing the plates and glasses. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” she added as she took her tray, curtsied, and hurried out of the room.

  Sarah followed the barmaid to the door and shut it, inserting the key and turning it before taking her seat across from the earl.

  Gabriel, who stood upon the serving girl’s entrance, regarded Sarah as they both sat down. “You have a very … polite staff,” he said with a nod. “Didn’t she used to work at an inn in Wolverhampton?” he wondered quietly, sure he had seen her before.

  “I stole her away from the Black Horse, yes,” Sarah admitted, suddenly wondering if the earl had bedded Margery.

  “I never bedded her,” Gabriel stated then, as if he could read Sarah’s thoughts.

  Sarah’s eyebrows danced, as if she was trying to decide how to respond to the earl’s statement. “Oh,” was all she could manage.

  “Which is part of why I am here,” Gabriel continued, realizing he had the perfect introduction to his problem. “You see, I have been told I am a horrible kisser.”

  About to take a bite of kidney pie, Sarah stopped her fork in mid-air and stared at the earl. “Someone told you that?” she asked in surprise. Who would dare tell an earl he was a horrible kisser?

  Gabriel shook his head. “I … I haven’t been told directly, but I’ve heard the gossip. Tell me truly, Sarah. How did you find my kissing?” he asked then, his cocked eyebrows suggesting he was expecting her to give him an honest assessment of his skills in the art of kissing. Or lack thereof.

  “I … Well … ” Sarah struggled with how to answer. The earl was a guest in her inn! She dared not offend the man! But he was, by all accounts, a very poor kisser. Not that Sarah had much experience in the matter, for she did not. But from what she’d been led to believe, kissing was supposed to be a pleasant experience.

  “I asked for an honest assessment,” Gabriel stated firmly, wanting Sarah to understand he was aware of the gossip that suggested he was a horrible kisser.

  “You are a horrible kisser,” she agreed with a nod and her most sympathetic expression. “A bit too much … moisture and …noise … although, I certainly appreciated your enthusiasm. But not the licking …” She shook her head. “Wrong place, wrong time,” she finished, closing her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to witness the earl’s wrath. “Although, it would have been appreciated somewhere else,” she added suddenly, opening one eye, as if she was peeking.

  Gabriel Trenton stared at his hostess, finding her antics rather entertaining, even though they were at his expense. And, although her words did sting a bit, he found he rather liked how she was so forthcoming with her critique. “I want you to teach me how to kiss,” he said before taking a long draught of his ale.

  Sarah stared at Gabriel, so surprised by his request that she didn’t have an answer for him.

  At least, not right away.

  She took a draught of her own ale, which left a bit of a foam mustache on her upper lip. She licked it away before saying, “And, what makes you think I am accomplished enough in the art of kissing to … to tea
ch it?” she wondered in a quiet voice. She forced herself to begin eating, thinking it would be good to get some nourishment if she was to spend the rest of the day kissing the earl.

  Gabriel gave her response a good deal of thought before he finally shook his head. “I don’t know. But I remember enjoying your kisses when I was last here, so I think you are more skilled at it than I am,” he answered with a firm nod before taking a bite of his pie.

  Setting down her ale, more because she was afraid she might down the rest of the pint in a single gulp than because she suddenly wasn’t thirsty, Sarah regarded the earl in surprise. “How much time do I have?” she asked, thinking that if they started now, she might be able to teach him given a week or more. She ate a sliced strawberry, barely noticing the cream topping.

  “Tonight,” Gabriel answered with a shrug. “I was hoping to return to Bilston on the morrow. The crops are about to be planted,” he added, as if that was enough to explain his hurry.

  “Oh,” Sarah responded, realizing she sounded rather breathless just then. Breathless and wondering what crops he referred to with his comment. “Then I accept your challenge, my lord,” she said with a nod.

  “Gabriel,” he stated suddenly.

  “I beg your pardon?” Sarah replied, not sure why the earl had said his given name.

  “Gabriel. You’re to call me ‘Gabriel’ for the remainder of the evening,” he ordered. “Since we’ll be … kissing … a great deal, I think it more appropriate we call each other by our given names,” he explained, his head bobbing up and down.

  Sarah could swear the earl’s breathing had increased in frequency, probably due to his anticipation of being kissed. Her breaths were certainly coming faster than they had been a moment ago. “Gabriel,” she said in a hoarse whisper. She had to put out of her mind that Gabriel was the name of her son, the baby she had borne because of this man. The baby who sported the same blond curls and blue, blue eyes this man displayed all the time. Blue eyes I could drown in, she thought just then. Did drown in.

  Sarah hadn’t realized she was standing – she couldn’t remember having stood up from her chair – but she was suddenly in front of the earl, her head tilted up and her mouth slightly open. “Touch your lips to mine, but do nothing else,” she ordered quietly.

  Gabriel took a breath and then lowered his mouth to hers. Sarah pressed her lips against the warm, soft lips of the earl and suckled them lightly as one of her hands went to the side of his face.

  When Gabriel tried to press harder, Sarah pulled away. “I said nothing else,” she warned, before leaning in so that her lips touched his again.

  This time, Gabriel complied, allowing Sarah to take the lead in the kiss. She angled her head to her right while guiding Gabriel’s to tilt to his right by pressing her hand against his cheek. When she started the slight suckling, Gabriel followed suit. A moment later, she reached up with her other hand to place it against the side of his neck.

  Unsure of what he was supposed to do, Gabriel placed one of his hands at the back of her waist and was about to pull her against the front of his body when he sensed her suddenly tense. He relaxed his hold, moving his hand to the side of her waist.

  Sarah smiled against his lips. “The next time you do that, I will allow it,” she murmured, recapturing his lips with hers and angling her head in the other direction. This time, Gabriel followed easily, wondering at how their lips seemed to suit so well, how they fit together as if they had been molded to do so. When he felt the tip of her tongue on his teeth, he opened his mouth wider, allowing Sarah to explore his mouth with her tongue. His own tongue tangled with hers, but he was careful to allow her the lead. She tasted of the strawberries and cream from their luncheon, sweet and tart and rich. And then, quite suddenly, she pulled her tongue away while her arms wrapped around his neck.

  Gabriel was quite sure he’d heard a moan emanate from her, but he thought perhaps it might have been him making the sound. He found he was enjoying the kissing far more than he imagined he would. Why hadn’t his mistresses taught him how to do this? And why had Missy Litchfield licked him on the cheek after his first kiss in her father’s barn? Sarah hadn’t licked him, and from what she’d said earlier, he rather doubted she would.

  Wondering if he should try with Sarah what she had just done to him, Gabriel slowly touched the tip of his tongue against the bottom of Sarah’s front teeth, sliding it sideways. Although he felt her body tense, it was only a moment before he felt her body nearly fall against the front of his. Realizing he had missed his cue, Gabriel moved his hand to the back of her waist and pulled her forward. This time, she did not protest, and he could swear she made that moaning sound again. But he had to breathe.

  Sliding his lips off of hers but quickly moving them back to rest against the corner of her mouth, he said, “You have left me breathless, my lady,” he panted, saying the words so that every one forced his lips to make contact with hers.

  “As have you,” Sarah whispered, her lips moving to his jawline to leave kisses there. Not sure what to do, Gabriel let Sarah continue her moves, amazed at the sensations her lips could leave on him as they supped and suckled his skin from his jawline to his neck and, finally, to his ear lobe. When her tongue pulled it so it rested between her teeth, Gabriel allowed a groan to escape. Did the woman realize what her simple nibbling was doing to him? Did she realize his manhood had swelled and was right this very moment trapped behind the fall of his breeches? Which was pressed rather hard into her soft belly?

  Aroused more than he ever remembered being – from my ears to my cock! – Gabriel ran one hand up Sarah’s side until his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. When she inhaled sharply, Gabriel took her mouth in his, plunging his tongue in deep to taste the flavor of strawberries that still lingered there.

  He wanted to be doing this with his cock inside the warm, wet cocoon he knew lay between her legs. Those long, luscious legs that led to a round rump he remembered molding with his splayed hands. A round bottom he remembered pounding against the front of this thighs the second time his cock was deep inside the woman he now held tight against his body. His manhood was remembering very well the last time it had been in that haven, that sweet, tight and very wet haven where he had spilt his seed in a glorious orgasm that left him feeling satisfied and drained and energized all at the same time. Whoever claimed sexual intercourse was a religious experience had likely worshipped at the altar that was Sarah Cumberbatch.

  None of his mistresses had ever made him desire them like Sarah did. Never had he felt such a need to bury himself into a woman, bury himself and claim her as his own, so that no other man could enjoy her favors, no other man could enjoy her kisses as he was enjoying hers this very moment. And he was about to say so when he was suddenly aware of the fall of his breeches coming loose, of his cock springing forth into Sarah’s waiting hand, of her fingers wrapping around his shaft and sliding down the length so that the end of her fingers could cup his sac before sliding back up to the wet tip and squeezing it so it was even more wet.

  At some point, he knew not when, his lips and tongue had given up their claim on her mouth, for her lips were down there, this very moment suckling his cock and sliding down his shaft in a way that made it almost impossible for him to place his hands on either side of her face and lift her away from him.

  “If I am to take my pleasure, my dear, dear Sarah, I shall do it in a place and time where I can be assured of your ecstasy, and not one moment before,” he managed to get out, or maybe just a moment before, his breathing so labored and his cockstand so hard he was sure it would disown him for his words, no matter that they were honorable.

  Or perhaps because they were.

  Sarah straightened and stared at the earl, stunned at his words. When had a man ever stopped her from doing that? she wondered, her mouth opened more from her surprise than from what she’d been doing with it only a moment before. “My lord?” she whispered.

  Perhaps she hadn’t h
eard him correctly.

  “Gabriel,” he managed to get out between pants for air. “I wish to …bed you now, if you’ll allow it,” he said in a hoarse whisper. For the rest of my life, a voice said in the back of his head. And before Sarah could give him an answer, he pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that was so sweet and soft – not the frantic, slurping, sucking kind she was expecting from him just then – Sarah nearly whimpered.

  “Gabriel,” she breathed, her hands clutching his arms. Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her hard against his body before his fingers went to work on the fastenings down the back of her gown. The serviceable dress was opened and off her shoulders in a moment, revealing her smooth, white shoulders and a corset that barely contained her breasts. His lips took purchase on one of those even before he managed to get the ties undone, marveling at their size – none of his three mistresses had such charms, and none smelled like hers.

  His hands tugged the corset down her body, along with the chemise she wore beneath it. When he had divested her of everything but her stockings and garters, he regarded her with an appreciative look. “I know I said I just wanted to talk, but …”

  Sarah smiled, a brilliant smile that said she wanted this even more than the earl. It had been over a year, after all, and he had been her last experience with a man, as awkward and satisfying and memorable as it had been.

  If Gabriel really had required her tutelage to learn how to kiss, then he had been a quick study. Even now, her lips were remembering how very firm and soft and possessive and generous they had been. She wanted those lips on her breasts, down her belly, between her thighs, and around her womanhood. She wanted his tongue laving across that engorged nub, teasing it and tasting it and taking her to that place where nothing else existed but the two of them. And she wanted his manhood deep inside her sweet, wet haven, the space that, at this very moment, throbbed with a need she had never felt before. “Take me, Gabriel,” she breathed, her lips covering his before he could offer a reply.