'Tis the Season for Lady Sarah - Maggie Dallen Page 0,31
credibility to this man’s claims that he’d kissed Sarah. “I have not told Sarah’s brother about your antics for her sake, but I think it’s time you and I had a chat with the marquess.”
Stallworth stopped short, his retreat forgotten as he spun back to face Theo again. “I—”
But whatever the man was going to say was lost because another voice cut through the cold air. “How dare you?”
A triumphant grin spread across his lips as he watched Sarah approach from the direction of the greenhouse, her eyes blazing like an Amazonian warrior. But the smile died again. Because she wasn’t glaring at Stallworth. Her ire was pointed directly at Theo.
Stallworth cleared his throat. “Sarah, please—”
But she held up her hand, never glancing at the other man. “You, Mr. Stallworth, are dismissed.” Her voice had an edge that Theo had never heard before, but her chin notched up at that angle he loved so dearly as she eyed Mr. Stallworth with clear disdain. “I would not try to spread rumors if I were you. It will be your word versus mine, and I assure you my brother would never turn his back on me. All you’d manage to do is make an enemy of a marquess and destroy your current understanding with Miss Rathmore.”
Stallworth sputtered and cursed, but he’d lost and he knew it.
Theo didn’t bother to look back as the other man walked away. He kept his gaze on the woman who, minute by minute, took more and more of his heart. “Sarah,” he said and then winced. He had the same pleading tone that Stallworth had used just seconds before.
“Don’t Sarah me, Theo.” She drew out his given name, her arms crossing over his chest. “I expect him to treat me like a fool. You were right. Eighteen months ago, I played the part.” Her spine grew stiffer with every word.
“I already told you…” He held up his hands in some sort of surrender. “It wasn’t foolishness, it was innocence.”
“And what, pray tell, is it this time?” she said with a dead calm that almost frightened him.
“I don’t know what you mean.” But a weight of sick dread began to fill his stomach. Theo was replaying the conversation he’d just had with Stallworth in his head and, sincerely, it wasn’t good.
“Sarah,” he drew in a deep breath. “Please. He said—”
“What did he say?” she asked then, her hands coming to her hips. “What could he possibly have said that would have caused you to have so little trust in me?”
He winced, moving closer. He had the powerful urge to hold her in his arms. If she were there, surely all the world would set to right again.
But her glare stopped his movements again.
“Why are you angry at me?” He inched just a bit closer, as though slow movements might calm her anger. “Why not at him?”
She shook her head, her brows going up as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Because I don’t care about him or what he thinks or says but you, I—” she stopped short her mouth clamping closed.
“But me?” For a shimmering moment, he thought she might say that she cared about him. It felt so good to hear her say that she didn’t give a fig about Stallworth, that she’d dismissed him as unimportant. Did that mean that there was room in her heart for Theo?
But her next words quelled his hope. “I expected more from you. I expected, after everything we’ve been through over the past few days, for you to trust me to handle myself.”
His hands dropped. “I do trust you.”
She stared at him with disbelief for a full second before she shook her head. “If you trusted me, you would never have threatened to bring Stallworth to my brother.”
His mouth opened but he shut it again quickly because... There was nothing else to say. She was right.
Her nose wrinkled up. “That’s it?” This time she took three steps closer. “You have nothing to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his shoulders dropping. “You’re right.”
That seemed to deflate some of her anger as her head dropped down but her hands came to her forehead. “What did Mr. Stallworth say?”
“That you kissed him—”
“I would never kiss him.” She straightened back up and he loved her for it. Well, maybe the vehemence with which she said those words helped a bit too. “Not willingly, at any rate.”
He reached out and lightly touched her arm. “He also said that the two of