A Mistress for Major Bartlett (Brides of Waterloo)

‘No! If anyone goes to tell him it should be me,’ said Tom.

‘It sure as hell ain’t going to be me,’ muttered Robbins darkly. ‘I’ll just tell him you will come to see him then, shall I?’

‘Yes,’ said Sarah.

‘No,’ said Tom at exactly the same time.

As they squared up to each other, Robbins sighed.

‘The note weren’t from him anyhow. Nor I needn’t tell him I’ve been here. No need to tell him anything at all.’

‘Just so. Thank you, Robbins,’ said Tom, without taking his eyes off Sarah. ‘We need to discuss just how to break it to him that...’

Sarah lifted her chin, though her cheeks went so hot she was sure they must have turned scarlet.

Robbins beat a hasty retreat.

‘I’m not afraid of Justin, if you are!’

‘It’s not a question of being afraid, Sarah. Or not the way you think.’ Tom flung aside the sheet and stalked, naked, across the room to take hold of her shoulders.

‘It’s just that, once we own up to Colonel Randall that we have become lovers, he is bound to put a stop to it. One way or another.’ He’d either split them up altogether, or force them into marriage somehow. Neither of which things were what Sarah truly wanted.

‘Sarah, I know you have been anxious about his health. I know you wish to go and see with your own eyes that he is recovering, but, please, I beg of you, don’t go right now. Leave it until morning. So we can have tonight. Just one night together, that’s all I’m asking.’

One night as lovers who’d chosen each other. Lovers who hadn’t been coerced in any way, by anyone or anything but the feelings they had for each other.

* * *

Her heart leapt. He still wanted her!

Of course. It wasn’t all about duty and appearances, or he wouldn’t have made love to her in the first place. She’d only slid into that maelstrom of doubt and fear because it was so hard to believe anyone could really love her, after a lifetime of accepting her unimportance in anyone’s life.

She bowed her head and rested it on his chest. Tom was the only person—apart from Gideon—who had never made her feel like a duty, or an encumbrance. He might only be asking her for one more night together, but after all, one night was more than anyone else had ever begged her for.

‘As your lover,’ she said. Marriage was a step too far, for either of them. But hadn’t they both kept saying that they should seize the moment? To just live in the present?

‘My lover,’ he grated. Then closed his arms round her and held her so tightly she could feel his heart hammering against her cheek.

She bit down on her lower lip. If she’d been more like other women, she would be his fiancée now, not his lover. They could be looking forward to a lifetime together, not just one night. If only she hadn’t been so afraid she’d end up like her mother she’d refused his proposal in such terms he’d admitted he hadn’t really meant it.

Fortunately the Latymor pride rushed to her rescue. The pride that would never let anyone suspect they’d hurt you. The pride that enabled her to lift her head and give him a saucy smile. ‘Well, if one night is all we have, we’d better make the most of it.’ Laying the palm of her hand in the centre of his chest, she pushed him towards the bed. ‘You are trembling,’ she said, tilting her head to one side. ‘Does this mean you are not up to the task in hand?’

He sat down heavily, and pulled her on to his lap. Buried his face in her neck. Breathed her in deeply, though tremors kept on running through his magnificently muscled body.

‘It means,’ he said, at length, ‘that I can’t believe this is happening. Am I dreaming? Am I in a fever?’

She laid her hand on his forehead. Then placed a kiss where her hand had been.

‘This is real, Tom. You are not dreaming. You have no fever.’

‘You have really just agreed to postpone visiting your brother, to spend a night in my bed?’

‘I really have. And we have all night.’ She tiptoed her fingers along his shoulder, then slid them down his beautifully sculpted arm.

His eyes took on a slumberous quality. ‘Up to the task, indeed.’ he huffed. ‘Did I disappoint you last time?’

She pretended to think. Then shrugged. ‘I have nothing with which to compare it, as you very well know. So how can I possibly judge?’