The Promise of Change

Chapter 13



“I’m afraid that I have to return to London this evening for a photo shoot in the morning,” Alex announced.

Sarah tried to hide her overwhelming disappointment, apparently not too successfully.

“But, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, and to make it up to you, I have a very special evening planned.”

“What kind of special evening?” she asked, sounding like a petulant child.

“It’s a surprise—”

“Again with the surprises?” She rolled her eyes.

“Why, do my surprises disappoint you?” he asked with a concerned look.

“No,” she replied quickly, “of course not, it’s just that you seem to have an affinity for them.”

“I do,” he affirmed, “so, just be ready by five, because we have a bit of a drive. Oh, and it’s a dressy occasion.”

“Dressy? Just how dressy?”

“I’d say a nice dress . . . something like you wore to the Oxford reception would be appropriate,” he replied with a gleam in his eyes.

Super. Since that was the only dress she’d packed that fell into that category, she now had some shopping to do. She hoped she could find something within walking distance. She recalled Queen Street had some lovely dress shops.

“Did I ever mention how spectacular you looked that night? I couldn’t believe my eyes when you stepped into the garden. I noticed more than one approving eye was turned in your direction.”

“Yes, and some disapproving eyes as well,” she returned. “How could I forget? But thank you.”

“It was all I could do to make some pretense of listening to those with whom I was supposed to be conversing. I am surprised you didn’t feel me leering.”

“That’s what that was. I knew I felt something,” she said, giving him a teasing look. “Ugh. Right now all I feel are my aching feet.” It was a warm day and they’d walked the grounds of Blenheim for what seemed like hours.

“Here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the shade of an ancient horse chestnut tree. “I can fix that, I think.” Pulling her down on the grass beside him, he pulled her feet onto his lap and removed her shoes. He massaged her tired, sore feet with the expertise of a masseuse.

“Let me guess, you were a massage therapist in your previous life.” She closed her eyes, leaning against the tree, enjoying the feel of his hands caressing her feet.

“No, but I used to watch my father massage my mother’s feet. I guess I learned a thing or two.”

The tree beneath which they sat was perched on a small hill above Blenheim’s extensive parkland, the River Glyme visible as it wound its way through the magnificent lawns, like a silver ribbon, sunlight glinting off the water. A warbler of some sort serenaded from the branches above.

“‘I shall soon be rested. To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.’”

“Well said, Fanny Price,” he said, his hands gently kneading her feet. “How many does that make today?”

“I do believe that was the first, but I thought you might appreciate that particular quote, Edmund,” she replied, waiting for a response, but none came. “At least I have no Mary Crawford to distract your attention,” she teased, although something clearly distracted him.

“Yes.” He had something infinitely more appealing to distract him, the sight and feel of her beautiful, shapely legs and silky skin. The soft moans of pleasure when he found a particularly sensitive spot and worked the tension from it.

He massaged her feet for a few more minutes, admiring the gold toe ring on her right foot, before his hands advanced to her ankles and then her calves. Lovely, lovely, Sarah. So fit, so trim, so sexy.

Her eyes flew open, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking intently at his hands on her bare calves.

“Were you an athlete in school?” he asked.

Odd question. “Yes, why?” she asked, curious, and not a little excited. His hands caressing her calves made it difficult to carry on a casual conversation.

“Because you have an athlete’s legs . . . beautifully-muscled.” He still frankly appraised her legs.

She gulped, blushing profusely. She sat up and removed her legs from his lap. “Thanks for the massage. My feet feel much better.” She slipped her shoes back on, and sat with her knees drawn up under her chin. So much for keeping him at arm’s length.

Her erratic heartbeat subsided now that his hands no longer stroked her legs, leaving disappointment in its wake.

He stood, holding out his hand to help her up. “We’d better go. I have to catch the train to London.”

“Oh. Right.” She’d almost forgotten that he was leaving tonight.

He obeyed the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Soft and tender, his lips found hers. She tasted of warm sunshine, smelled of sweet jasmine. He could get drunk off both.

Taken by surprise, she nevertheless melted against him on a sigh. Raising her arms, she draped them around his shoulders, her fingers caressing his neck.

He shivered when her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck. Her soft moans nearly brought him to his knees. He pulled back, looked into her face, her eyes closed, expression all dreamy. “Sarah. Sarah?”

“Hmmm.”

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” He gave her a gentle shake.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, a sexy smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. “Sorry, I momentarily lost all higher brain function.”

Chuckling to cover his own similar reaction, he draped his arm around her shoulder and started down the hill. They walked in silence for a pace, each trying to recover the power of cognition.

“What sport?” he asked, once the blood returned to his brain.

“I’m sorry . . .”

“What sport did you play in school?”

“I crewed in high school and college.”

His brows shot up in surprise. He’d expected gymnastics, or cheerleading. Something a little more . . . girly he supposed.

“What about you, did you participate in a sport?”

“My brother and I played rugby.”

“Tough sport . . . I mean, I don’t know that much about it, but from what I’ve seen it looks more dangerous than American football.”

“Yes. That’s how I got this scar,” he said, pointing to a small scar underneath his chin. “One of these days he’ll pay for it.” He wasn’t joking.

“Your brother did that?” she asked in surprise.

“We’re very competitive.” There was a slight edge to his voice.

They drove back to Oxford in a subdued atmosphere.

She wasn’t looking forward to the lonely evening ahead.

He wasn’t looking forward to the family meeting.



A short time later, Alex walked Sarah into the inn’s lobby. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you to dine alone. I had intended to have an early dinner with you, but we tarried at Blenheim longer than I expected—not that I minded.” He smiled, but the light never reached his eyes. “It was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.”

“Thank you for such a lovely day.” She hesitated, not sure what she should do. Talk about mixed messages, first he tells her not to read anything into the relationship, then he kisses her to the point of disorientation.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Instead, he took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

Pulling back so that his face remained just inches from hers, he said, “The pleasure was all mine. Tomorrow at five.” He kissed her once again before he turned and walked away.