Page 50 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

“I do. And Mary, please call me Sabrina. I’m not married to an earl any longer, and I’m blessedly thankful for it. I want to dismiss Lady Pepperdon forever.”

Mary’s brows furrowed. “But as a widow you’re permitted to continue to use the title, even if you remarry, which you did, however temporarily.”

“I’m entitled, but I’ve decided to put the past behind me, and I will put the title there as well. Besides, we are friends, Mary. Well past time we acknowledged it.” She laid her hand on her maid’s shoulder. “Let us toss away the lady and servant roles we wear. If you wish, tell anyone who asks that you are my companion and friend, which is the complete truth.”

Mary remained silent, her face showing myriad emotions. “I would like us to think of each other as friends…Sabrina.”

Sabrina smiled. “Excellent. We move forward together, come what may. Now, we had better depart.”

Mary took the dishes from Sabrina’s hand. “I’ll wrap the pie and gather my cloak.”

“And I will fetch my own cloak. See? Independence,” Sabrina said. Mary laughed and hurried toward the kitchen.

Moments later, they headed toward the school. Mary waved goodbye as she continued toward town. Entering the school, Sabrina passed through the alcove into the main room. There sat Riordan at his desk, a pile of papers and slates before him. Her heart swelled at the sight of him, his thick, black-as-midnight hair falling across his forehead as he bent over his work. “Good afternoon, Riordan.”

He glanced up, and a broad, warm smile curved about his sensual lips. And they were sensual—the bottom lip a little plumper than the top. Ideal for kissing. “To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?” he asked.

She held up the wrapped bundle. “Pie. And I longed to see you.”

A look of genuine surprise flashed across his attractive features. He tossed aside his pen and stood. Sabrina was drawn closer to him, as if an invisible thread held them together. He took the pie and set it on his desk, then, without any warning, cupped her face and kissed her. Deeply. She opened and let him in and their tongues clashed. Sabrina grasped the lapels of his coat, pulling him closer.

For once, she held nothing back, kissing him in return with great relish. When a husky moan left the corner of his mouth, the glorious sound caused her to moan in return. This ignited the simmering passion between them. Riordan moved his hands down to her waist, cupped her buttocks, and brought her in against his erection.

She gasped in surprise, pausing to savor the feel of his hard body. Desire flared within as she continued with her thorough and complete exploration of every part of his hot mouth. He rotated his slim hips, and she could feel his hard shaft through the layers of clothes. Following his lead, she rubbed against him, causing another moan to slip from his throat. Her insides were on fire, her breasts heavy, and a distinct yearning throbbed in her feminine core.

Riordan broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. His breathing was as ragged and uneven as hers. “I am tempted to push everything off the desk, lay you upon it, and kiss and caress every part of your body.” He exhaled. “Forgive me.”

“No.”

He pulled away and caught her gaze. Arching an eyebrow, he said, “No?”

“I mean no, do not apologize. I want this. I want more. Tonight, we should talk. Can we?”

“Yes.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“I should go; your students will be returning shortly.”

Riordan chuckled. “Quite the condition you are leaving me in.”

Sabrina buttoned his frock coat. “There. No one will guess. If you come home for lunch tomorrow, perhaps you can steal another kiss.”

“With Mary there?” he laughed.

“I believe she will leave us alone. Riordan, this is all new to me. Can you bear with me?” She glanced up into those beautiful blue eyes—they glistened with deep emotion.

He stroked her cheek. “For you, I can wait an eternity.”

“Good answer, Mr. Black.” With a sigh of contentment, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him. She nibbled on his delicious full bottom lip before stepping away. “I’ll see you tonight. I hear roast chicken is on the menu for supper. Enjoy your pie.”

Sabrina turned, hurried out of the schoolroom, and, lifting her skirt, ran to the side of the building where she’d first discovered the passionate schoolmaster. She waited patiently. The window was open far enough to hear the happy voices of children as they filed into the room after their luncheon.

Riordan’s deep, melodious voice filled her hearing, causing shivers of awareness to cascade along her spine. “Children, let us pick up where we left off before the break: English folk music. Now, much of it originated during the medieval period. Anyone remember when it was? Yes, Becky?”

“Between the fifth and fifteenth centuries?”

“Yes, well done. We refer to it as The Middle Ages, as it is the middle period of three divisional eras of Western history. One popular melody that has stood the test of time is “Greensleeves.” Does anyone know of it?”

There were mixed answers, most saying no. A young lad called out, “Sing it for us, sir!”