He reached for his jacket. Ben’s tiger helped him pull it on, taking care with the injured arm. Not fooling with the neck cloth, Gavin motioned with his head for the tiger to give them a moment’s privacy.
Sarah looked at him then. Tears brimmed in her green eyes. “You could have been killed. He is a terrible man.”
“Aye, he is,” Gavin said. “I owe you a great debt. If you had not called my name, I would not have moved and his bullet might have found its mark.”
“I never wish to witness another duel as long as I live,” she replied fervently.
“I pray to never be in another one.”
“Lord Rovington is not a gentleman and there should be a way to announce that fact to everyone in the world. He should be shunned.” The tears had evaporated and color returned to her cheeks. She was magnificent when her temper was up, especially in his defense.
“He will be,” Gavin assured her, and then he asked the question that teased him. “How did you know he was going to fire before the count?”
“I saw the tension in his shoulder. Intuitively I understood he was not going to honor the count. He was too quiet before, too withdrawn.” She shook her head. “My training in the theater is to anticipate what another actor will do. One learns to read the slightest hint of movement in their bodies.”
“Your training has saved my life. Come, let us leave.”
“What of your arm?”
“The physician has handled it.”
“But do you need laudanum? Something for the pain?”
“Right now, what I need more than anything is you.”
That was true. How close he had come to being mortally wounded was sinking in along with a giddy gratitude that he was alive. His opponent had been defeated. He need never worry about betrayal from Rov again.
And along with that elation was a strong desire to finish what they had started the night before.
Sarah knew what he was thinking. To his everlasting joy, she reached for his hand. “Yes,” she said, one simple word that said everything.
He helped her up into the phaeton. Ben was still discussing the duel with the witnesses. Gavin placed his hat on his head and picked up the reins. Sarah placed her hand upon his thigh, holding on to the seat with her other. He drove by the group of men and stopped. “I’ll return your vehicle later.” He nodded for the tiger to hop aboard.
“How shall I return home?” Ben protested.
“You are resourceful, brother. You shall think of a way.” And with that, Gavin snapped the reins and set the team forward, Ben’s laugh of agreement following them.
The hour was still early but London’s streets were active. Gavin concentrated on his driving and the heat of Sarah’s hand on his thigh. They didn’t speak. There was no need to do so.
In relatively quick order, Gavin pulled up to the Clarendon. He set the brake and hopped down.
While the tiger climbed into the seat to take the reins and presumably drive back for Ben, Gavin swung Sarah down from the vehicle.
“Your arm,” she chastised but Gavin could barely feel his arm—not when compared to the other, more urgent feeling in another part of his anatomy.
He practically dragged her up the stairs to their floor. His anticipation was so great, the sound of the key in the lock was enough to put him over the edge.
And then they were inside.
Sarah moved first, throwing her arms around him, pressing her body against his, and pulling him down into her kiss.
Kicking the door shut, Gavin marveled that he had never imagined that a woman’s desire could rival his own. The shy Sarah, the frightened one, the reserved, anxious woman was gone. In her place was the Siren.
Even if Gavin had wanted to resist her, he would have been powerless to do so.
She pushed off his jacket. He untied the ribbons to her bonnet so that he could taste her ear. Her shawl was on the ground at her feet and soon her dress followed.
She pulled out the tail of his shirt and then smoothed her hand across his muscles beneath it.
