The Seduction of Sarah Marks by Kathleen Bittner Roth

He kissed her with a slow hunger until she grew weak. His arm went around her, holding her upright—cradling her. His free hand found her cheek, and his fingers traced a warm, sensuous trail, like sunbeams washing across her face. He released her lips long enough to murmur against her mouth, things she couldn’t make out, soothing endearments. And then, with a low moan, his kiss deepened, and his tongue parted her lips, sweeping inside.
    “Ho, there!” Doctor Hemphill called out, rounding the corner of the house.
    They both stepped back, but the harsh expression on the physician’s face told Sarah he’d seen plenty. She turned her head in embarrassment.
    Eastleigh put his back to her, shielding her, and fisted his hands on his hips. “What the devil do you want?”
    Hemphill halted. “You’ve family arriving.”
    “Bloody hell. How many?”
    “Three carriages, five uniformed outriders, and two gentlemen on horseback, most likely Ridley and Thomas since Sebastian prefers holding court inside a conveyance.”
    Eastleigh headed for the terrace. “Brilliant. The whole lot of them.”
    She heard the noise then—the rattle of carriages, the pounding of hoofs. Fear gripped her insides.
    He glanced over his shoulder. “Go the back way up to your chamber. There’s no need to join us until you’re ready.” He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the front of the house shooting her a mischievous grin. “Which could be next week, if it suits you.”
    Sarah lifted her skirts and hurried past the doctor. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    “Miss Marks,” Hemphill called out.
    She already had one foot inside the doorway, but she paused. “Sir?”
    He stepped onto the terrace, deep lines furrowing his brow. “Again, I must remind you to take care, and that you are not my only patient.”
    “And might I remind you that I have two very prominent goals, one of which is to regain my memory, and the other is to return home, which I cannot get to without the other. You offend me, Doctor Hemphill.”
    Something in the man softened, but only a little. “And what if your memory returns and you find home is not a place you wish to return to? What would you do then, Miss Marks? Would you endeavor to remain here?”
    Something dark flashed through her brain, and foreboding washed behind it. Wherever home was, it was not a pleasant place. Not at all. She turned and hurried into the house and up the stairs, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
    She entered her bedchamber, locked the door, and promptly ran into a fleshy, mob-capped maid. She stumbled backward. “Oh!”
    “Beg pardon, Miss Marks. Tildy’s me name, and I’m to be yer permanent chambermaid. I was off to see me mum when ye arrived, so Sally saw to yer needs, meantime.”
    “Oh, Tildy, please help me. I’m soiled from the garden. And my hair.”
    The maid helped Sarah out of her gown, and then went to the wardrobe where she dug around and removed a pink frock. She shook it out with a snap of her wrist. “Will this do?”
    A great roar sounded from below.
    “What in heaven’s name was that?” Sarah stepped into the gown, giving no heed to the design.
    “That would be the Malverns having at it. But not to worry, Miss Marks, they’s just playing sport with one another. Now, if’n ye’ll sit, I’ll see to yer hair.”
    Moving to the boudoir table, Sarah slid onto the blue velvet-covered bench and proceeded to nervously tap her foot while Tildy combed the loose tendrils in place. The idea of remaining in her lovely chambers drew a sigh from Sarah. What was to dislike in here, while who knew what awaited her below?
    “His lordship did up this room,” Tildy said, watching Sarah through the mirror.
    “You mean he chose everything in here?”
    Tildy nodded. “Except for Mum’s quarters, he done the choosing on everything in the house. Planned the outside, as well. A right talented gentleman, he is.”
    Stunned, Sarah regarded her chambers from a new