Lady Sarah's Sinful Desires by Sophie Barnes Page A

as if she was speaking to herself rather than to him. “What I wouldn’t give for the opportunity to fly away from it all.”
    â€œYou wish to flee?” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Is it because of Mr. Denison?”
    Abandoning the swallows, Lady Sarah looked at him for the longest moment, studying him with her clear blue eyes, until she finally spoke. “Have you ever done something regrettable, my lord? Something that suggests exceedingly poor judgment on your part, and for which you will never be able to forgive yourself?”
    The question gave him pause, not so much because of how unexpected it was but because of what it told him about Lady Sarah . . . and because of its importance. He sensed that if he told her he had not, it would put an immediate end to their newly established acquaintanceship, while if he spoke the truth, it would bring them closer somehow. “Yes,” he said simply.
    She waited a moment, but then she nodded, as if deciding she would believe him. When she made to continue along the path, Christopher caught her gently by the arm, halting her progress. “Lady Sarah,” he told her seriously, “it’s impossible for me to imagine what kind of burden might be troubling you, but I do know how difficult it can be to feel as though you’ve acted stupidly—­to fear the judgment of others if they were to discover your folly.” She tried to pull away, her face increasingly devoid of emotion with every breath she took, as if she was building a wall between them. Persistent as ever, Christopher slipped his hand down around hers and raised it to his lips, kissing her gloved knuckles before saying, “You needn’t confide in me. Not ever. But I would like for you to know that as unlikely as you may find it, I am your friend, if you wish it. So are my sisters.”
    Her whole demeanor seemed to change in response to that promise, and she suddenly smiled wide and beautifully. “Thank you,” she said, those gorgeous eyes of hers dancing with joy. “You are most kind.”
    Her happiness in response to such a small gesture filled him with pleasure, and it struck him that it was harder for him to train his emotions around her today than it had been yesterday. Somehow, she’d reached inside his chest with her confession and spoken directly to his heart.
    Retreat, his inner voice told him.
    Pushing aside the compassion that muddled his brain and weakened his defenses, Christopher tried to consider Lady Sarah objectively. She was not like Miss Hepplestone, he decided, or any other young lady he’d ever met, for that matter. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Lady Sarah that women coveted him, chased him even, to the point where one such woman had delivered the performance of a lifetime in her attempt to wed him. None of it had been genuine, and Christopher had never felt more used or humiliated.
    But with Lady Sarah it was different. She made no attempt to seek his company or to try and charm him. In fact, the only interest she’d shown in him had had nothing to do with his title or wealth but rather with his passion for castles. Additionally, she had made it clear to him and to Fiona that she planned to marry Mr. Denison.
    This gave him pause.
    â€œMay I ask you a personal question?” he asked.
    â€œOf course, though I cannot promise I’ll give you an answer.”
    He liked how direct she was, even if it did occasionally lead to a blunt comment. “Fiona says that you do not wish to marry Mr. Denison. Is that true?”
    Her expression turned from openness to wariness in an instant. “I don’t believe I’ve told your sister anything of the sort.”
    â€œShe can be very observant.”
    Lady Sarah nodded stiffly. “Mr. Denison is not my first choice, he is a practical choice—­a suitor picked for me by my father in order to facilitate an