My Lady's Choice. Lyn Stone

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My Lady's Choice - Lyn Stone Mills & Boon Historical

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watched the movement of his large, capable hands as he cut a bite-size portion of meat and held it out to her on his eating knife.

      His gaze fastened on her mouth. Sara reached out and touched his wrist lightly as though to steady his aim and felt his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips. Desire flamed in the green depths of his eyes as it often did when they came close.

      If only she could persuade him to act upon that impulse, Sara thought she might make those smiles of his become real. Though she knew her limitations as a temptress, she also understood his needs. She could meet them if he would only let her.

      No woman at Fernstowe, including the promiscuous Darcy, would dare usurp her place in Richard’s bed. Not unless Sara herself suggested it to them.

      Her offer of Darcy had been made only to see whether the man would ever seek another. His reaction to it reassured her. Richard did not hold with infidelity.

      Sara hoped that he would relent in his attitude toward her if they became intimate. Surely two people could not share such closeness and remain strangers for long.

      Aside from that aim, anticipation flowed through her veins like warm, sweet wine each time he was near. Sooth, even when he was not, she thought about it.

      When she had received the bite of meat, Richard abruptly turned away. But Sara did not worry overmuch. His reluctance would fade one of these days. He still felt trapped. She would grant him time enough to come to terms with all that had happened. No need to hurry.

      She quickly sought a topic of conversation that would lighten his mood. “Your messenger will have reached Gloucestershire some while ago. Should the children not arrive soon?”

      He nodded and concentrated on his food. “In a few days, if all goes as planned. Both ride well and will not need to come by cart. My father will send them under escort. I’ve requested two of his knights and I expect they will stay on here. You could use more men accustomed to arms until the border problem is resolved.”

      “Do tell me about them.” She leaned toward him, eager to hear.

      “The knights?”

      Sara laughed. “Nay, your children! I do not even know their names.”

      He looked suspicious. “Why do you pretend interest?”

      “No pretense, Richard,” she assured him. “I am interested.”

      “Why?” he asked, idly stabbing at his trencher with the knife.

      “Because I look forward to being a mother.”

      For a long moment, he was silent. Then he acceded, though his words were gruff. “Christopher is seven and big for his age. Has the look of me, they do say. It is past time he began training as page, but my mother has put it off.”

      “Then we shall begin his instruction as soon as he has settled in. Now, what of your daughter?” Sara asked.

      Richard’s hand stilled. Then he carefully laid down his knife and turned to face her. “She has suffered enough, my Nan, so do not think I’ll let you make a servant of her.”

      Taken aback by his sudden vehemence, Sara shook her head. “Oh, Richard, I had no such notion.”

      “See that you do not. Nan shall be taught a lady’s skills so that she might marry well one day. Her birth is not to be discussed in her presence. Not by anyone. Is that understood?”

      “I agree,” Sara said. “Does she know that she is your natural child?”

      He snorted with disgust and looked away. “People have beaten her about the head with that fact since the day of her birth. Always behind my back, be assured. But if it happens here, I shall know it and there will be consequences.”

      Sara smiled with relief and delight. “You love her.”

      He sighed heavily and rested his elbows on the table. “She has no one else.”

      Sara reached out and encircled his arm with her hands, unable to help showing how much she admired him. “Rest your mind on that score, Richard. Your Nan will have me, as well.”

      That earned her a wary look of hope. He did not quite believe her, but she could see that he wanted to. That was progress.

      Sara determined then and there that no matter what his children were like, she would make them as welcome as if she had birthed them herself.

      She patted his arm fondly and let go of him. “Now, finish your meal and go above for a rest. We must get you completely well before Christopher and Nan arrive. Nothing troubles a child more than seeing the father less than hardy. I speak as one who knows.”

      He rose and accompanied her toward the entrance. It felt almost natural now, this walking side by side in step, her arm looped through his. Progress, indeed. Yesterday, he would have stalked away and left her standing there.

      “Your father was often ill?” he asked, his voice almost conversational, as though they truly were companions and he cared about her answer.

      “Healthy, for the most part, but I have seen him wounded a few times. Father was never the most cautious of men.” She remembered well her feelings whenever she had seen her sire bedridden. “As a girl, I much feared he would die and leave me.”

      “And so he did,” Richard reminded her. She heard the sympathy in his voice, even though he tried to sound blunt. The man had a good heart, but worked so devilish hard to hide it from her.

      She frowned up at him. “Aye, he died. But I was no longer a girl when it happened. Though one is never prepared to lose a father, I was able to keep things going much as he would have done.”

      He pursed his lips and nodded. “Until you found you must marry.” As they climbed the steps, he asked, “Those two suitors of yours cannot be the only bids for your hand in all these years. Why did you wait so long? Most women are wed, or at least betrothed, at half your age.”

      Sara pulled open the door, not waiting for him to do her the courtesy. “I grew old awaiting the right man,” she said brightly. “And, lo, I have found you.”

      She grinned up at his dark expression and fiercely in-drawn breath. Good Lord, why did she feel so obliged to bait him? Must be because he always reacted so obligingly, she thought.

      Her wicked teasing would one day be the death of her, but somehow she could not resist. “You are entirely too grave, Richard,” she admonished playfully. “I did but jest.”

      “I failed to find humor in it.”

      “Well, I guessed that right away. What must we do to make you laugh, I wonder?” She sidled away from him and then turned toward the kitchens.

      His eyes remained on her back until she was out of sight. She could feel the heat of his glare. It warmed more than her heart, she thought with a secret smile.

      Richard watched Sara’s hips sway as she left him standing in the hall. She did that apurpose, he knew.

      With those long legs and slender curves, the woman had to work at that enticing, follow-me saunter. She usually moved with a firm and purposeful

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