The Offer by Catherine Coulter Page A

little Sabrina is like her grandmother. She won’t tolerate a husband who isn’t faithful to her. She knows of your reputation even though she can’t begin to understand it. No, I would never give her over to a man who would betray her, and that’s how she would view a husband who bedded other women. Make up your mind to mend your ways, for I’ll not push her into a marriage that would make her unhappy.”
    â€œSabrina is young, my lord,” Richard Clarendon had said in that honey-smooth deep voice of his. “She’s spirited, a beautiful unbroken filly. As my wife, my lord, you can be assured that she will never desire for anything more than I can give her. And that, sir, includes other gentlemen.”
    â€œSo, Richard, you believe your charm and prowess will satisfy my granddaughter, do you?”
    â€œLady Elizabeth.”
    She shook herself free of the memory and turned irritably to the butler. “Yes, Ribble?”
    â€œIf I may inquire, my lady. Is there any word of Lady Sabrina?”
    Elizabeth knew that servants had their ways of discovering things. Surely this old fool of a butler knew that Sabrina had disgraced herself. Yet he had the temerity to approach her, the now undisputed mistress of Monmouth Abbey, to inquire after the little slut.
    â€œI fear, Ribble,” she said coldly, “that my sister could not have survived the blizzard. The men are still searching, as you know, but soon his lordship will realize the futility of it and call them back. Her body will undoubtedly be recovered when the snow melts.”
    She saw a spasm of grief pass over the old man’s smooth forehead.
    â€œIt’s naturally a tragedy,” she continued more coldly still, moving away from him, “and a loss to all of us. But life continues. We continue. You may follow me to the drawing room now, Ribble. I don’t wish to keep the marquess waiting.”

12
    The marquess was standing by the windows, staring out at the snow. Elizabeth felt her belly muscles clench at the sight of him. She’d never wanted another man, just Richard Clarendon. He was magnificent, all strength and muscle, beautifully made, his face hard and cold, drawing her easily to him, and any other woman he wanted. She swallowed and stretched out her hands. “Richard, why ever are you in Yorkshire, now of all times? Surely London is a more pleasant place than Yorkshire at this time of year.”
    The Marquess of Arysdale straightened from his negligent pose at the bowed windows. He strode across the room, his grace stunning her, making her hot and breathless. He raised her hand to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Elizabeth. Marriage appears to agree with you. I only regret that I wasn’t able to attend your wedding.”
    Elizabeth trembled when his mouth touched her wrist. She couldn’t help it. She also knew that he was quite used to such a response. He was a rake, a womanizer, enjoying himself with any woman that pleased him at the moment. She had long known it, but she’d never cared. Now that she was married and knew well what men wanted of women’s bodies, she wondered how different lovemaking would be if Richard were her husband. A stain of red deepened on her cheeksas she pictured Richard naked over her. He wouldn’t be soft and smooth as Trevor was. He wouldn’t be cruel.
    â€œWhere is Sabrina, Elizabeth?”
    Sabrina, he wanted to see Sabrina. She felt the heat cool in her body. She lowered her eyes and said in a shaking voice, “Please sit down, Richard. The news I have for you isn’t pleasant.”
    â€œDamn you, woman, what the devil do you mean by that?” She felt more than saw the instant difference in him. The lazy animal grace had disappeared. He was alert now, ready to kill, if need be.
    â€œPlease, Richard.” She waved to a blue brocade settee.
    â€œEnough of this. Where is Sabrina?” He took his seat