Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(58)

Woodenly Sara stood up and made her way to the door. “I know you came here with good intentions, Tabitha, but you must leave now. I…I’m sorry.” Those were the only coherent words she could form. Oh, God, she was sorry for things she couldn’t name or even admit to herself. She was consumed by loneliness, burning with it. She ached with grief for what she would never have.

“I’m sorry too,” Tabitha murmured, her face reddening guiltily. “I won’t bother you again, miss. I swear it on my own life.” She left quickly, forbearing to say another word.

Chapter 8

Stumbling to the fireplace, Sara sat down on the hard floor and buried her face against her knees. Wildly she tried to convince herself that she would be a fool to give away what happiness she might be able to find with Perry. She tried to imagine going to Derek Craven and telling him…telling him what? A bubble of senseless laughter escaped her. “I want to see you one more time,” she whispered. She wanted to be near him again, if only for a few minutes. And he felt the same way, or he wouldn’t have made love to another woman and pretended it was she.

“I will forget you, Sara Fielding. No matter what it takes…”

What good would it do even if she were able to steal a few precious moments with him? He would not want to see her. What could she say to him, when she couldn’t explain her feelings even to herself?

Resting her head on her forearm, she groaned in frustration. She was treading on the edge of disaster. She must forget her dangerous infatuation with Derek Craven and turn to the man she had loved ever since she was a girl. Suddenly it seemed as if Perry Kingswood had the power to save her from herself. She struggled to her feet. Quickly she banked the fire, snatched up her cloak and mittens, and bolted out the front door. She hurried to the Kingswood manor as fast as her feet would take her. During the long walk, the cold air drove deep into her lungs and seemed to freeze her bones. Her chest ached from a knot of pain that had settled in the center. “Perry, make it all go away,” she wanted to beg. “Make me feel safe and loved. Tell me we were meant to be together.”

She didn’t care if he thought she had taken leave of her senses. All she needed was for him to put his arms around her and reassure her that he loved her. And he would, she thought, drawing strength from the image of him holding her. He would be calm and gentle, and soothe her fears.

Her breath caught in excitement as she came upon the Kingswoods’ home, and she saw Perry leading a horse from the paddock to the stable in back. “Perry!” she cried, but the wind was blowing, making it impossible for him to hear. Eagerly she hurried around the house to the stable. The sturdy structure was warm and sheltered from the wind, filled with the familiar smells of hay and horses.

Perry, who was clad in a heavy wool coat and a knitted hat, was busy leading the horse into a hay-lined stall. Aware of her approach, he turned to face her. His color was high from exercise, and his eyes were like sapphires. “Sara? Why are you in such a state? Is something wrong?”

“I had to see you this very minute.” She launched herself forward and clung to him, dropping her head into the curve of his neck. “Perry, I’ve been so unhappy, wondering how to get rid of this distance between us! I’m sorry if I’ve been demanding or unreasonable. I want everything to be right between us. Tell me you love me. Tell me…”

“What’s brought this on?” he asked in astonishment, his arms closing around her.

“Nothing. Nothing in particular…I just…” Floundering in her excitement, she fell silent and held on to him more tightly.

After a minute of wordless surprise, Perry eased her away and spoke in a softly chiding tone. “You never used to carry on so, darling. Running about the countryside with your hair flying and your eyes wild…there’s no need for it. Of course I love you. Have I given you reason to doubt that? I’ll be glad when you stop writing. It makes you emotional, and that wouldn’t do for our children, or me, for that matter—”

He stopped with a muffled sound as Sara took his face in her mittened hands and pressed her mouth to his. She felt his body tense. There was a tentative response, the slightest movement of his lips…but then he pulled back and looked down at her in shocked dismay. “What has happened to you?” he asked sternly. “Why are you behaving this way?”

“I want to belong to you,” Sara said, her face flushed. “Is it so wrong of me, when we’ll be married in just a few months?”

“Yes, it is wrong, and you know it.” His cheeks turned as red as hers. “Decent, God-fearing people should have the moral strength to control their animal urges—”

“That sounds like something your mother would say, not you.” Sara pressed against him ardently. “I need you,” she whispered, brushing swift, dancing kisses over his cheek and jaw. The blood raced in her veins. “I need you to love me, Perry…here…now.” Urgently she pulled him toward a stack of neatly folded blankets and a few blocks of hay. Perry took a few uncertain steps forward. “Make me yours,” Sara murmured, and lifted her mouth, parting her lips enough to let her tongue drift over the surface of his.

Abruptly Perry sucked in his breath and pushed her away. “No!” He stared at her with a mixture of accusation and desire. “I don’t want this! And I certainly don’t want to kiss you as if you were some French whore!”