Page 36 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

Damn the man. Riordan now wished he had planted a facer directly on the baron. His grandfather often used the phrase, and it fit here. The baron deserved to be punched—and more. Sabrina’s childhood must have been as cold and lonely as her marriage—which made him all the more determined to draw her out of her protective shell. “Do you ride?”

“I have, but not since I returned to my father’s. He only has the two horses for his carriage and he refused to allow me to ride them.”

Yes, the man deserved a pummeling. Riordan reached across the table and took Sabrina’s hand. Again a jolt of sizzling heat tore through him. “Attend church with me, and after we’ll head to the farm. Farmer Walsh has a fine mare. We can go riding. Say you will.” He could see her hesitation, and gently squeezed her hand. “No hiding, Sabrina. Never again. Time to live your life. Starting now.”

Another brief, tremulous smile curved about her sensual lips. “You’re right. I will attend church with you, and go riding.”

“That’s my darling girl.” He smiled broadly as he slowly and incrementally released her hand, trailing his fingers along hers as he’d done before. She seemed to like it, and the blush staining her cheeks proved he was correct. The color was a welcome change from the stark paleness she’d exhibited most of the day. Pleased at her reaction, he snatched another piece of sandwich. “What do you plan to do in the afternoons when you’re alone?”

Giving a slight movement of her shoulder, she reached for a piece of cheese. “I imagine I’ll do the same thing I have done for the past several years: read. Thank you for assisting me in my selection at the bookshop. I’m looking forward to Wuthering Heights.”

“Why don’t we read it together, in the evenings? We can take turns reading passages.”

She nodded, giving him another of her brief smiles. “I would enjoy that.”

“The books you donated, were they yours?”

“I must confess, they were from my father’s library. He’ll never miss them.”

Riordan laughed. “Again, well done. Do you partake in any other ladylike pursuits?”

It dawned on him that he wanted to know all about her, but was he rehashing the unpleasantness of her past? The last thing he wanted was to churn up terrible memories.

“When my mother died, I was shipped off to the Blackwell School for Young Ladies. My education before that was sporadic at best; father’s choices for governesses left a lot to be desired. I learned more from reading than I ever did from those dour women.” Sabrina placed another wedge of beefsteak sandwich on her plate. “At the boarding school? They sprinkled a little academia throughout the endless, boring classes of needlework, French, and the pianoforte. I’m afraid I do not excel at any of it.”

“I admire you for wishing to expand your mind. It is a fallacy girls cannot be educated the same as boys. Yet those in power believe females should only learn enough to prepare for their roles as wives and mothers. I do not hold with the view. My curriculum is for all children, regardless of gender.”

“Your students are indeed fortunate that you’re forward-thinking. I admire it. I admire…you.”

Riordan sipped his tea; the compliment pleased him.

After a few moments, Sabrina stood. “I believe I will retire. All of a sudden, I’m fatigued.”

Riordan rose from his chair. “Allow me to escort you to your room.”

“It is barely a few steps away.”

“Nevertheless.” He took her arm and escorted her to the door. Turning her to face him, he cradled her face, gently stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “Good night. Sleep well.” He kissed her forehead, then laid gentle kisses on each of her cheeks. Her eyelids lowered, and he placed kisses on them as well. The temptation proved hard to ignore. Taking a chance, he leaned in and tenderly kissed her on the lips. Brief, but scorching.

Stepping away from her, and about to turn and head to the parlor, Sabrina moved toward him, encircling her arms about his waist. Her ample breasts smashed against his chest, causing blood to rush to his shaft, hardening it. It was the same fierce embrace she’d given him the afternoon they shared a picnic lunch in his schoolroom. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “that I said you were trapping me like the earl and my father. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

Sabrina laid her head against his chest and hugged him tighter. Her enticing citrus scent filled his senses as she softened all around him. God, she felt glorious. A perfect fit. He was completely aroused. “You’re not like those poor excuses for men. No comparison at all. You’re the best man I have ever known.” He stroked her hair as her generous words made his heart swell.

As quickly as she hugged him, she let go and hurried into the room, closing the door behind her. Already he was bereft by her absence. Her scent lingered in the air, and the only sound was the ticking of the mantel clock. Or perhaps it was his heart, beating at a fast pace.

Damn. His entire body throbbed with need. He rested his forehead against the door and took a shuddering breath. How in hell would he be able to stay emotionally detached? The truth was he couldn’t, and he would not even try. This was moving beyond a surface attraction into a deeper bond. The challenge lay in making Sabrina admit that there was far more going on between them than friendship.

A challenge he gladly accepted.

* * * *

Sabrina had been awake since shortly after dawn. She lay in bed, not knowing what to do. Should she rise, or wait for Mary to arrive? The small cottage was silent, indicating Riordan must still be asleep, and she did not want to disturb him. Thankfully, she’d slept through the night, the stress of the day tiring her far more than she’d thought. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she glanced at the sun pouring in through the sheer draperies. It would be a fine autumn day for a ride.

I am married. Despite her second thoughts and last-minute apprehensions, Sabrina had come to the conclusion that she’d made the right choice. Besides condemning her and Mary to a life of poverty, there was no other option. Many revelations filled the day. The first, Riordan insisting that she keep the entire amount of the settlement. That she had not expected. The gesture, generous at its core, spoke of the honorable man she’d come to know—and wanted to know better.

But one of the biggest surprises? His suggestion that they make the marriage work. It had shocked her. Complete fright overtook her, hence the reason she lashed out and compared him to Pepperdon and her father. The earl, during the first months of their marriage, had tried to make an effort. But when it was clear that she abhorred his attentions, he turned cruel. Rough. The vindictiveness spilled over into their daily lives. As did the coldness.

During her first day married to Riordan, she experienced none of this, thank heavens. Sabrina closed her eyes, reliving his passionate kiss after the registrar declared them married. Then his tender kisses last night. After the ceremony, he was solicitous, engaged in every aspect of their shopping trip, assisting her in selecting books and giving his opinion when asked about the couple of dresses she’d purchased. He’d made her tea. Acted interested in what she had to say.