She didn’t want to find out, and the best way to ensure that would be to avoid him. Because when Nicholas was near, Sadie had trouble remembering that she couldn’t trust herself around him. She had thought before that she could indulge physically without having to worry about anything else.
She realized better, now. Even if he hadn’t declared that no beds would be involved until she spilled her secrets, it would be impossible. It was too late, their relationship already more than physical.
Besides, unless she took advantage right now, while his power strengthened her amulet, she’d have to boost it herself right before anything happened, and he’d surely notice that. Just as he’d notice if she used her telepathy while they were in bed—which she would do without a charm blocking her power. And Sadie wasn’t limited to reading thoughts.
Learning she often projected when in the throes of passion had been one of the most horrifying experiences of Sadie’s life, and another home lost. Not a mistake she ever planned to repeat.
She’d avoid being alone with Nicholas. That was the only answer. She’d have to think about what she could do forher activity with him that would ensure they were never by themselves.
She couldn’t visit Lamsdel like Abigail wanted. Even if she wasn’t worried about that particular secret coming out, it would confuse the villagers too much and she’d be left answering constant questions when she returned home.
At least Abigail would certainly never utter Sadie’s name during her time with Nicholas. No one in Lamsdel would hear about Miss Sadie Pentry from her and wonder.
Sadie sighed and turned toward the brewing room. She was determined to avoid Nicholas, but she had to admit the day ahead looked much bleaker knowing she wouldn’t run into him. Not even the familiarity of the brewing room could change that.
Not when she was stuck reading grimoires while Jane did the actual brewing.
And honestly? Even if she had a cauldron and ingredients in front of her, she doubted it would be enough to distract her from the man who insisted she could use the brewing room whenever she wanted.
Twenty-One
???
Nicholas really hopedhe’d learn something interesting about Sadie in Lamsdel, because that might be the only thing that would keep him from running into the forest screaming after spending so much time with Abigail. The woman alternated between flirting with no subtlety whatsoever and insulting him in the same breath.
She sat as close to him in his curricle as her crinoline allowed, then complained that he ought to have a larger barouche. He declined to explain that the barouche his mother preferred was the vehicle transporting Lenora home.
Nicholas liked his curricle. Though he wouldn’t mind being on the driver’s bench of the barouche right now, with Abigail in the back by herself. He wondered just how much trouble he’d be in if he erected a ward between himself and the handsy woman at his side. Abigail had gone beyond batting her eyelashes at him and kept touching him. A press of her fingers to his arm soon became her entire side pasted against his. Then she rested her hand on his thigh.
There was a knowing, calculating look in her eyes. If it were Jane, he might have assumed she really was just trying to keep her balance, but Abigail’s actions were in no way innocent.
Nor were they in any way tempting.
He decided the best course was to pretend he didn’t even notice. Let her stew over how little she affected him.
He couldn’t thank the spirits enough when Lamsdel finally came into view. Yes, he still had to escort Abigail to the limited shops, but there’d be other people around, and hopefully spending some of Nicholas’s money—he understood what was expected on this outing—would distract her from trying to seduce him.
“This is the bigger village?” Abigail scoffed as they made their way to the inn, where Nicholas would leave his curricle and horses.
“As you can see. It is at least half again the size of Valway.”
She huffed. “The shops aren’t going to be any better here, are they?”
“They won’t be up to Linzen standards, but they serve their purpose. And there is a fine goods shop here. The lilac soap you are using comes from that shop.” In fact, one of Nicholas’s footmen had needed to visit Ferman’s Exotic Goods no less than three times since Abigail had arrived to acquire some specialty item she “simply couldn’t live without.”
“I suppose we’d better start there, then.”
Nicholas pulled his curricle to a halt and waited for a stable hand to come out. Handing over the reins and a half silver, he hopped down. Then he forced himself to turn back and help Abigail climb out.
“We’ll be back before supper,” he told the man taking charge of his horses, delaying the moment he had to accept the woman on his arm.
He nodded. “We’ll have them rested up and ready to go, my lord.”
“Thank you.” There were no more delays to be had. Nicholas winged out his arm, unsurprised when Abigail clung to him instead of just resting her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“Which way to this fine goods shop?”
“This way.” Nicholas turned them left out of the inn’s coach yard and led her down the main street. It took less than a minute to reach the door of Ferman’s Exotic Goods. He opened it, a bell tinkling above to announce their arrival, and managed to extract his arm as Abigail stepped inside and sneered.
