Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(86)

Spurred into action, Sara struggled frantically to escape him. He wrapped his arms up around her thighs, mastering her, and his head dipped low into the space he had made for himself. He swept through the lush curls with short, wheedling touches of his tongue. Sara groaned a denial as he reached deeper into the soft cleft, searching for the intoxicating taste of her body.

His fingers wove gently through the patch of curls, separating them. He found the delicate center of sensation and stroked with his tongue, teasing, insinuating deep in the softness. Steeped in pleasure and shame, Sara lay motionless.

The taste of her was maddeningly erotic. He covered the enticing female flesh with his mouth and tugged firmly. At the same time he slid his fingers inside the moist passage, stroking in counterpoint to the steady rhythm of his mouth. Sara cried out suddenly, pulled into a whirling upheaval, her senses overflowing.

As the last tremor subsided, Derek levered his body over hers and pushed himself inside her, gripping her h*ps in his large hands. He gave a pleasured groan and began to thrust in a sustained motion. Their bodies converged until there was no space left between them. Feeling the shudder of his cl**ax resounding deep against her womb, Sara enfolded him in her arms. She rubbed her face against his gleaming black hair. “I do love you,” she whispered in his ear. “And I’ll never leave you.”

They passed through the center of Greenwood Corners at midmorning. Sara kept away from the windows, knowing the gossip it would cause for her to be seen in the magnificent private carriage. Strolling merchants and village women carrying large baskets on their arms stopped to watch the vehicle’s progress. Shopkeepers came outside to remark on the lacquered carriage, the pair of outriders, and the liveried footman in attendance. Such an equipage had rarely, if ever, been seen in Greenwood Corners. A few people followed the vehicle far enough to determine its direction and ran back to report that it was traveling toward the Fieldings’ cottage.

When they reached her parents’ home, Derek helped Sara from the private carriage. He spoke briefly with the footman before walking Sara along the path that led to the cottage door.

“I wish the night wasn’t over,” she said, holding his arm tightly.

“There’ll be other nights for us.”

“Not for a while.”

That earned her a piercing glance. “You’ll arrange the wedding as soon as possible. Accept Lily’s offer of help if necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” Sara smiled at his commanding tone. “It almost sounds as if you’re anxious to marry me.”

“It won’t be a moment too soon,” he muttered.

Sara was glad of his sudden fretfulness, knowing it meant that he was reluctant to be parted from her. She was half-afraid that she had dreamed the last two days. “If you don’t come back for me, I’ll find you in London,” she threatened. “Or I’ll send Papa—and he’ll bring you here at the end of his old musket.”

Derek grimaced. “I’m not certain any man in his right mind would choose me for his daughter.”

“Oh, Papa’s a wise, dear man. You’ll adore each other. Just make certain to speak loudly so he can hear you.” They stopped at the door, and Sara turned the handle to open it. “Mama?” she called.

Katie appeared in the doorway with a delighted exclamation, and made a move to embrace her daughter. “Sara, how was the ball? You must tell me everyth—” She stopped at once as she saw the man beside Sara, his dark, broad-shouldered form filling the doorway.

“Mama, this is Mr. Craven,” Sara said softly.

Taken aback, Katie stared at the two of them with round eyes. “Isaac,” she called, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “Sara’s brought someone home with her. A man.”

“Has she? Well, let me have a look at him.”

Abruptly Derek found himself confronted by two small gray-haired people. Scrutinizing him closely, they welcomed him into the tidy, worn little cottage. There were sprays of dried flowers and herbs, painted pottery, and piles of books everywhere. He had to duck his head to avoid a low overhead beam as he crossed the threshold. As Sara introduced him to her father, they shook hands cordially. The old man’s face was engraved with lines of good humor and character, his blue eyes lit with a friendly twinkle.

“Papa,” Sara chattered, “you’ll remember I mentioned Mr. Craven before. We met during my research in London. He owns a social club.” She proceeded to bustle her mother toward the kitchen. “Mama, let’s make some tea while the men become acquainted.”

They went into the kitchen and closed the door. Dazed, Katie fumbled for the jar of tea while Sara began to pump water energetically at the sink. “You’ve taken my breath away,” Katie remarked, hunting for a spoon.

“Mr. Craven was at Raiford Park this weekend,” Sara said, her face mantled with the high color of excitement. “It’s a complicated story, but the long and the short of it is…I love him, and he proposed to me, and I said yes!”

Katie’s mouth dropped. She sat in a chair, fanning her hands over the center of her chest as if to calm her heart “Your Mr. Craven proposed,” she repeated numbly.

“He’s the most wonderful man in the world. You and Papa are going to love him as much as I do.”

“Sara…isn’t this terribly sudden? Think of all the years you’ve known Perry—”