Page 58 of Marriage with a Proper Stranger

“As am I,” he replied, his tone husky.

“Did you…”

“Make myself come? Yes. Watching you reach your peak aroused me like never before. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She hugged him. “Oh, Riordan.”

They lay in each other’s arms, and Sabrina was content as never before. Safe. Treasured.

“We had best clean up. Mary will be here before we know it.” She moved to sit up, but Riordan laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Stay, I’ll return in a moment.”

“Could we wait a couple of nights before asking Mary not to see to me in the evening?” His brows furrowed. “I want to savor what happened tonight, before we continue. Perhaps do this again”—she gave him a sultry smile—“for I enjoyed it immensely.”

A smile touched his sensuous lips. “Whatever you desire.”

Sabrina clasped his hand and kissed it. “I desire you, sir.”

Riordan groaned. “Minx.”

Laughing as he left the room, Sabrina burrowed into the blankets, a contented smile firmly in place. Was it always like this? The pleasure they had given each other from touching…what would actual sex bring? She wanted to know, but wanted to learn in a deliberate manner. Riordan would agree. Some men wouldn’t. They would simply take…as Pepperdon… No. She dismissed him outright. Rot in hell. Stay there. Never enter my thoughts again.

How many minutes passed, she’d no idea. Riordan entered the room carrying a small basin and a flannel cloth. “I placed the soup on the stove. We will eat once we put ourselves to rights.”

He made room for the basin on the small table, sat on the bed, dipped the cloth in the water, and placed it between her legs. The warmth of the flannel caressed her folds. He’d heated water for her. How thoughtful. She sighed with pleasure as he stroked her between the slit in her drawers. He leaned in and kissed her. Deeply. Stirring the passion between them. But before it galloped out of control, he ended it.

When he assisted her to stand, Sabrina was surprised to find her legs still shook. Leisurely, and with great care, he dressed her, leaving off the petticoats. As she reached for the hairpins, Riordan shook his head. “Leave it down. Please.”

“Mary will know….”

“Let her.” He winked.

They were sitting at the table eating when Mary knocked and entered. “Good evening. My, you’re having supper late, what—” Stopping in her tracks, she looked back and forth between them. She smiled, and Sabrina could not stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks.

What Riordan had read to her about Miss Featherstone’s seduction on the balcony had just happened to her not an hour before. Last night she’d read that the ex-soldier hero also…kissed her there. Between her legs. “Feasted,” the book said. How deeply intimate. Would she enjoy it as Miss Featherstone did? She glanced at Riordan, and he winked once again. Oh, yes. Without a doubt.

“Join us, Mary. Have a cup of tea and a buttermilk biscuit,” Riordan said.

“Oh no, sir. I couldn’t.”

“Mary, please?” Sabrina asked. She wanted her friend and Riordan to know each other better.

“Very well.” Mary removed her cloak and sat at the table, making herself at home. She poured a cup of tea, and refreshed theirs. Once she finished, she spread apple jelly on her biscuit.

“I’ve asked Mary to call me by my first name. We have moved past the lady and maid roles into a far more satisfying bond. I’m also leaving behind the ‘lady’ designation permanently. It belongs in my past. For now, I am Sabrina Black.”

“By law, you can call yourself Lady Pepperdon for the rest of your life,” Riordan said.

“I could.” She sipped her tea. “I choose not to.”

“And what of your future?” Riordan asked.

She stilled. Both Riordan and Mary stared at her, waiting for her response. Why would he bring this up here? “I’m not sure yet.” Before she could stop the words, she blurted, “Tell me what your salary is?”

Mary took a sharp inhale of breath; no doubt sorry she’d sat at the table. Yes, Sabrina was being unconscionably rude.

“I’m university educated, as I told you, and my yearly salary reflects such. The board is paying me forty-six pounds per annum. About the salary of a clerk at a prestigious firm. I have this cottage rent-free. Also the use of a part-time housekeeper-cook, Mrs. Ingersoll, free of charge. It’s an ideal situation for a middle class lad such as myself.” His words were clipped, his expression annoyed.