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The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(96)

By:Sorcha MacMurrough




"And I you." He sighed happily, and snuggled even more tightly against her. His voice was a mere whisper as he drifted off. "You were wrong about one thing, pet. There was no rain after all."



But Sarah knew the storm had opened over their heads. She just had to decide what to do about it. If she told Alexander her suspicions, he might try to do the noble thing and leave her. Then he would be as defenseless as a newborn kitten.



She could see it all now. His enemies had been clever the first two times, staging occurrences which would have easily been explained away as accidents if anything had happened to either of them. But the shooting that night had been no accident, and the killer had aimed high.



He could have shot her first, and then finished off her lover. But he had aimed upwards, at the level of Alexander's tall head. Someone here in Bath must have seen him, recognized him. Now his shadowy past had truly caught up with him.



The trouble was that they had met dozens of people whilst in the town. Anyone whom Alexander knew could have seen him without them even being aware of it. There was no way of telling who Alexander's enemy was, or where he could be hiding. Enemies, plural. A leader and his henchmen in the carriage and dray.



Damn.



While she had no idea who they were, they knew Alexander. And if they knew where they were staying in Bath, it would not take them long to find out where she lived.



They would be coming for him soon. Pray God they didn't finish the job they had started in Spain. She just couldn't let him die. But what on earth could she do to keep ber beloved safe?





Chapter Twenty-eight



Once they were underway the following morning in their small gig loaded to the brim with parcels, Sarah said to Alexander in a casual tone, "What would you say to heading up to Yorkshire to see my sisters?"



His face fell. "But we've only just come from Bath," he pointed out in a plaintive tone.



"I find I'm getting a bit restless," she lied, hoping the quiver of nerves in her voice didn't betray her completely. "Jonathan still hasn't replied to my letter. I'm eager for him to tell us anything he might know about you. And then with any luck, we can be married, and settle on where to live. Who knows, you might prefer medieval York to Bath. It's certainly worth seeing. In any event, I'm dying for you to meet my family." "I know, but still-"



"Since he and Pamela will be there in a matter of a few days, if he isn't already, we can kill two birds with one stone and go up to meet him. We can go through Oxford and some other fine towns, make a real trip of it. We can be married by him as soon as we can get the license. I'm sure he will be glad to officiate. It will be a very special and unusual honeymoon."



"It sounds very nice," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his tone. "But I thought you wanted to get back to Brimley as much as I did?"



"I do, darling, really. However, I would also love to firm up our plans to be married as well. I feel sure that-"



"You don't have anything to tell me, do you?" he asked quietly.



"No. What on earth could there be?" she asked, thinking of the child within her even as she did so.



He looked doubtful, but to her relief did not pursue his line of questioning, and simply kissed her. "Whatever you want, my love. If you wish to head north, Sarah, we'll go find your brother and be married. In truth, I want to be your husband more than anything."



"It will take me a day or so to get things organized, unpacked, washed and repacked."



"That's fine. I'll keep myself busy with the pianoforte, and the garden."



"The pianoforte," she said quickly, not daring to let him out of her sight for a minute. "I'll need to do my accounts, and leave instructions. You can keep me company, so to speak." She kissed him seductively, and he began to grin.



"Hmm, a good idea," he said, gathering her into his arms for a bit more dalliance until she nearly upset the gig in the road, and told him to behave.



He sat back sheepishly, but kept one huge warm maddening hand between her thighs the whole way home.



Sarah began the preparations as soon as she got in, dashing off a note to her elder sister Rebecca, and unpacking the bags right downstairs in her parlor. She sorted their laundry quickly, and then began to repack. Near to hand she placed a brace of her brother's pistols, and with the weapons some powder and shot.



That evening, Sarah sat at her desk, exhausted. She had done everything she could to prepare for her departure, making lists and leaving instructions for Mr. Evans the curate.



The plain fact was that she had no idea when she was coming back, if ever. But her brother had left the vicarage in her care. She had to behave responsibly, no matter how much her instincts told her to turn tail and run as fast as she could.