Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(105)

“What is that?” she asked, her brow wreathed in tender concern.

“I don’t know yet.” Derek gave a short laugh and hauled her close again. “Don’t ask a man questions…when he’s had the scare of his life.” Uncaring of anyone who might see them, he cupped his hands around her head and kissed her. Her mouth was bruised from his desperate, punishing ardor. Sara winced and murmured softly, trying to gentle him. She wasn’t aware of the exact moment when he returned to himself, but suddenly his skin was warm and his mouth was once again familiar as it moved tenderly over hers.

After a while Derek ended the kiss and laid his cheek against hers, breathing deeply. His fingers traced the moist curve of her face, the fragile juncture between ear and jaw. “When they said you were dead…” He paused while a tremor took hold of him and forced himself to go on. “I thought I was being punished for my past. I knew I wasn’t meant to have you, but I couldn’t stop myself. In my whole life you were what I wanted most. All along I’ve been afraid you’d be taken from me.”

Sara didn’t move or make a sound, but she was amazed. For him to admit he’d been afraid…She would have thought no power on earth or beyond could have elicited such a confession.

“And because of that I tried to protect myself,” he continued raspily. “I didn’t want to give you the one last part of myself that I couldn’t take back. And then you were gone…and I realized it was already yours. It had been since the very beginning. Except that I hadn’t told you. It drove me mad, the thought that you would never know.”

“But I’m not gone. I’m here, and we still have a life together.”

He kissed her cheek, his stubble scratching her tender skin. “I still couldn’t bear to lose you.” Suddenly there was a smile in his voice. “But I won’t let the thought of it keep me from loving you with everything I have…heart, and body…and whatever else I can find to throw into the offer.”

Sara laughed. “Do you actually think you could get rid of me? I’m afraid I’m a permanent part of your life, Mr. Craven…no matter how many ex-mistresses you send after me.”

He didn’t share her amusement. “Tell me what happened.”

She gave him her account of all that had transpired, while Derek grew increasingly tense. His face turned ruddy with anger, and his hands tightened into punishing fists. When she finished the description of her visit with Lord Ashby, Derek dumped her from his lap and stood up with a savage curse.

“What are you doing?” Sara asked, disgruntled, as she picked herself up off the ground.

“I’m going to strangle that gotch-gutted bastard and his bitch of a wife—”

“No, you’re not,” Sara interrupted stubbornly. “Lord Ashby gave his word that he would lock his wife away where she could do no harm to anyone. Let it be, Derek. You can’t go storming off in a temper and create more scandal-fodder just to satisfy your sense of vengeance, and besides…” She paused, seeing that her words were having little effect. With feminine shrewdness, she realized there was only one way to dissuade him. “Besides,” she continued in a softer tone, “I’ve endured all I can for one day. I need a few hours of peace. I need to rest.” It was the truth, actually. Her bones ached from weariness. “Couldn’t you forget the Ashbys for now and take me home?”

Disarmed, his anger overrun by concern, Derek put his arms around her. “Home,” he repeated, knowing she meant the mansion they hadn’t yet spent a night in. “But it isn’t finished yet.”

Sara leaned against him, nuzzling against his chest. “I’m certain we can find a bed somewhere. If not, I’ll be glad to sleep on the floor.”

Derek relented and held her tightly. “All right,” he murmured against her hair. “We’ll go home. We’ll find someplace to sleep.”

“And you’ll stay next to me?”

“Always,” he whispered, kissing her again.

Epilogue

The insistent cry of a hungry baby rang through the mansion, while the nursery maid held the child and tried to soothe her wailing. Aware of the rising clamor, Derek bounded up several flights of stairs to the nursery. The nursery maid started at his sudden appearance, perhaps fearing he would blame her for the baby’s fretfulness. His dark face was unreadable. “It’s all right,” he assured her, reaching for his daughter.

Cautiously the servant retreated to the side of the room, busying herself with a small pile of unfolded baby clothes. “Lydia is hungry, sir. Mrs. Craven must be late from her lecture.”

Derek cuddled his daughter against his shoulder and spoke in a mixture of baby words and cockney, a language only she seemed to understand. Gradually the infant quieted, attentive to her father’s low voice. A tiny, dimpled hand reached up to Derek’s jaw, exploring the scratchy surface. He kissed the miniature fingers and smiled into Lydia’s solemn eyes. “What a noisy little girl you are,” he murmured.

The nursery maid watched him with awe and curiosity. It was unheard of for a father of means to set foot in the nursery, much less to occupy himself with crying children. “She doesn’t do that for anyone else,” she remarked. “You do have a way with her, Mr. Craven.”

Suddenly Sara’s laughing voice came from the door. “He has a way with all women.” She entered the room and raised her face for Derek’s kiss before taking Lydia from him. Dismissing the nursery maid, she settled into a comfortable chair and unbuttoned the bodice of her gown. Her long hair partially shielded the baby at her breast. Derek lounged nearby, watching them closely.