The Promise of Change

Chapter 15



Lady Clara was right. The shop she’d recommended had some lovely dresses. Sarah had chosen a violet shantung silk sleeveless dress with a modest jewel neckline, but a deeply scooped back that left much of her back bare. A shimmery silver wrap and the strappy sandals she wore to the reception finished the ensemble.

She was pleased with the way the rich, saturated color of the dress made her green eyes stand out. She pulled her hair up into a simple twist using a silver jeweled clip she’d also purchased from the shop, letting a few stray tendrils frame her face.

She didn’t know why, but this felt more like a date than any of the other activities they’d enjoyed the last few days.

Having most of the day to think about it only gave her more time to get nervous. Picking up her purse and wrap, she walked down to the lobby.

Alex waited near the foot of the stairs, with a gaze so intense she felt the frisson of pleasure down to her toes.

He had resolved to show her a good time tonight, and let her down easy with some story about leaving on pressing business. That, he figured, would be that. But one look at her, her eyes shining, her face radiant, he saw his resolve dissipate.

Sarah paused on the bottom step with a soft smile on her face. Even standing a step below her, he was taller than she was. Her admiring gaze started at his feet, clad in classic black wingtips, and swept up his athletic frame to his charcoal gray suit, the pale purple stripe in his white shirt, and to her surprise, his matching purple silk tie. They looked as if they’d coordinated their attire.

If he noticed the coincidence, his face didn’t reveal it. He looked at her with such frank admiration, her knees felt weak.

“Sarah.” He stepped forward to take her hand. “You are breathtaking. I didn’t think it possible to surpass your entrance to the reception, but I stand corrected.” He leaned down and nuzzled the hollow beneath her jaw. He inhaled, murmuring against her skin, “Ah, sweet jasmine.”

She shivered at the intimacy of his gesture, making her breath catch in her throat and her pulse quicken. Blushing with pleasure, she thanked him. “You’re not bad on the eyes yourself.”

He gave her a provocative smile, holding her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Shall we go?”

They walked out to the street, his hand on her back guiding her to a sleek silver Mercedes coupe. He had a delectable view of her bare back, and he found it sexier than even the most revealing neckline. He longed to glide his fingertips down her spine and feel her shiver in response.

“Is this yours?” she asked, surprised. She didn’t know why, she just assumed he’d left his car in London, seeming to prefer the train.

“Yes. Trevor needed his car this evening, so I drove out from London.”

The plush leather interior of this car was a far cry from the serviceable Renault they’d been using all week.

“Where are we going again?” she asked after he climbed in behind the wheel.

“Nice try, but it’s a surprise, remember?”

She sighed in frustration. “Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.”



“I’m probably stepping far outside the boundaries of propriety, but may I ask you about your marriage?” he said, his voice soft and searching.

He hadn’t planned on probing any further into her previous marriage, but for some inexplicable reason, he needed to know what happened.

They lingered over dessert at a restaurant overlooking the Avon River.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” she replied hesitantly.

“Ouch,” he muttered, behind a wry grin. “I’m sure your ex-husband would be disappointed to hear that. How long were you married?”

“Almost three years. Our divorce was final one month before our third anniversary.”

“How long have you been divorced?”

“Seven months, but we were separated the last six months of our marriage. Turns out wealth can really complicate an otherwise uncontested divorce.”

“His wealth or yours?”

“Oh, definitely his.”

“Was he a lawyer like you?”

“No, a neurosurgeon.”

“So, you were married to the proverbial brain surgeon?” He chuckled. “How did you two meet?”

“At a hospital function shortly after he moved to town. It was a real coup for the hospital to get him on staff. Adrian’s skill is world-renowned.”

“Why did you get a divorce? He sounds like a great fellow,” he said, his brow knitted.

“He’d be the first to tell you he’s a great fellow.”

“Oh, so he has more front than Brighton.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, he’s uh, excessively self-confident.”

“Oh. Yes, you could say that.”

“But that’s not why you divorced.”

“No.” A wave of emotion crossed her face. “Another woman.”

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

What man in his right mind would think he could do better than Sarah? He supposed he should be thankful she married an arrogant fool, otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting here with her now, watching goose bumps rise on her bare arms as he softly stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

She cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a right royal night out, and here I am making you sad.”

“Right royal?” she asked, confused.

“Oh, a fun, memorable night.”

“It is so far . . .” Sarah said, hoping Alex would give in and tell her what else he’d planned. He didn’t take the bait. “Enough about my lackluster marriage, now it’s your turn. Have you ever been married?”

“No. I’m a bachelor. I’ve never met anyone with whom I thought I could spend the rest of my life. I guess I have high expectations after watching my parents and my grandparents.” He smiled as he stood and walked around to pull out her chair, effectively ending any further discussion on that topic. “Are you ready? We’ll be late for the next surprise.”

“Do the surprises ever stop?” she asked, a little exasperated. Not that his surprises were disagreeable. Although she typically didn’t like them, his were more enjoyable than most.

He shook his head in feigned disappointment, placing his hand on the small of her back and directing her out into the pleasant evening.



They walked down the aisle to their seats in the stall, or orchestra pit as it was known in the U.S. Sarah wondered if he’d relied on his position as Earl or his celebrity as an actor to acquire such choice seats at the last minute.

This was indeed a pleasant surprise. Attending a performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company, was not something she’d thought to do. The road sign announcing their arrival in Stratford-Upon-Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare, should have provided her with some clue.

“How familiar are you with As You Like It?” He thumbed through the program.

“A little. I only read it once, a long time ago. My assigned play in my college Shakespeare class was Othello.”

“Your assigned play?” he asked, confused.

“Yes. My Shakespeare class was not typical of most college literature classes. I had a drama coach as my professor. She assigned groups of students to perform selected scenes from Shakespeare’s plays, complete with costumes. After all, she said, Shakespeare intended his plays be performed, not read.” Her tone held a hint of disdain.

“You disagree?”

“No. My professor was absolutely right, but I was mortified by the thought of acting. I almost withdrew from the class after the first day.”

“Why was that?”

“I’m not fond of being the center of attention, and to be graded on it, well, that was daunting. Plus, as you saw from our antics in Lacock, I’m not an actress.”

“But you survived the ordeal.”

“I did. And to this day I still recall my most dramatic lines: ‘I care not for thy sword. I’ll make thee known though I lost twenty lives!’” she said with a theatrical flourish, then blushed, suddenly embarrassed by her display.

“As they say, don’t give up your day job.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

She smacked him with her program before the house lights dimmed, postponing any further discussion.



It was another lovely night, each night getting progressively warmer. Alex asked if she’d like to walk a bit before the drive back to Oxford. She agreed.

As they ambled along in silence, Alex took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, “The cobblestones are a bit wonky along the walk,” he said by way of explanation.

Since the play had just let out, there were many couples walking hand-in-hand on the sidewalks, along with some families, among the assortment of people enjoying Stratford this mild evening.

They walked for a few minutes talking about the play.

Music spilled out into the street from one of the pubs featuring live music. The singer was quite good. He sang a popular American song. Alex asked if Sarah would like to go in and have a glass of wine.

They found a small table in the front by the door. Just as he had done all week, Alex pulled out Sarah’s chair for her. The smiling waitress came over and they each ordered a glass of wine and then sat in silence for a few minutes just listening to the song.

As the song came to its end, the waitress brought their wine. “You’re Alex Fraser, er, Lord Rutherford, right? The bartender, Vicki, said no, but . . .”

Alex looked up, and confirmed her suspicions. “Did you have money on it? If so, you can tell your friend to pay up.”

She blushed shyly and hurried back to her friend to proclaim her victory.

“‘May you be merry and lack nothing,’” he said, quoting, appropriately enough, Shakespeare.

After the toast, they turned their attention back to the entertainment and sipped their wine. Sarah was unfamiliar with the next song, but Alex seemed very familiar with it, as he tapped his fingers on the table to the upbeat tempo.

It was followed by another American song, slow and romantic. Sarah could feel Alex’s eyes on her.

He stood up and held his hand out to her. “Dance with me?”

She smiled up at him as she placed her hand in his, and let him lead her out to the small area set aside for dancing, where a few other couples swayed to the music.

Alex pulled her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, as he placed his other hand on her bare back, bringing her even closer. Her skin was as smooth as warm satin beneath his hand, her body as supple as a ballerina’s in his arms.

The hand on her back was strong and protective. She laid her head on his chest, while he gently rested his chin on her hair.

It seemed like a lifetime since she’d felt the combination of both joy and contentment of being in someone’s arms.

They began the slow, swaying motion of a couple more interested in holding each other close than in actually dancing.

His hand drifted up the back of her neck and lingered there, gently caressing the curls that escaped her clip.

The song ended far too soon. He stepped back, tilted her chin up, and, searching her face, twisted a stray tendril of hair around his finger. Brushing his knuckles across her cheek, he looked down at her lips, which were slightly parted in surprise, before bending down to kiss her tenderly on the lips.

She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath, until it escaped on a sigh.

“Shall we go? I have a big day planned for us tomorrow, so we need to get you back and into bed.” He stammered as soon as the words left his mouth. “I mean — I didn’t — that came out wrong. I meant that it’s getting late and you should go to bed, not that we should go to bed. Well, not that I wouldn’t want to join you—bloody hell! I just need to stop talking.” He smiled sheepishly.

He didn’t know why the unintended double-entendre had him as nervous as a school boy. Any other woman and he’d have played the rogue to the hilt.

He was not the only one flustered. Sarah could feel the heat in her face, and it wasn’t righteous indignation she felt. Her heart skipped a beat when he referred to getting into bed. The idea was far from unpleasant. Obviously, since one of her first thoughts upon seeing him when they met involved a rumpled bed. Hers.

“It’s—it’s okay,” she stammered. “I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, not that the thought of going to bed with you— Now I just need to stop talking.” It was her turn for the sheepish smile.

He chuckled. “Let’s go before we say anything else that leads to a stammered and ineffective explanation.” He walked back to the table, threw a bill down for the wine, picked up her bag and handed it to her, before placing her wrap around her shoulders and hugging her to him.



Although it was well past midnight, Sarah was too keyed up to sleep. Tonight’s good night kiss had taken on an entirely different tenor.

When they’d reached the lobby, it had been dark and abandoned with the late hour. Rather than kissing her at the bottom of the stairs, as he usually did, Alex had pulled her into a darkened corner and proceeded to kiss her with barely restrained passion.

He had taken her completely by surprise. She found herself gasping for breath, yet unable to get enough of his lips on hers.

Her fingers found his thick, dark curls and grasped them like a lifeline, tugging his face down to hers. He pulled away, his lips moving to the hollow beneath her ear, giving her a chance to catch her breath, but not for long.

The length of his body pressed hers against the paneled wall.

He let down her hair, dropping the clip to the floor with a clatter, before wrapping his fingers in her unbound hair, and pulling her head back to kiss her along her neck to her jawbone.

A moan of unadulterated pleasure escaped her lips.

Releasing her hair, his hands moved to her waist, pressing her closer still, leaving no doubt as to the intensity of his desire.

Then he turned her around in his arms and began to rain hot kisses down her bare back. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other brushed her hair aside. “I’ve longed to do this all night,” he said as he kissed and nipped at her bare shoulders.

Her breath came in short pants, making her dizzy with both longing and hypoxia.

Sarah was on the verge of asking him up to her room when he suddenly pulled away and turned her to face him, searching her eyes, before releasing her and stepping back, his breath raspy.

He whispered, “I’d better go,” then kissed her chastely. “Good night, Sarah. Sleep well.”

She stood, dazed, watching him as he strode out of the lobby. She’d remained there, trying to control her pounding heart, for what seemed like several minutes, before pushing off the wall she’d used to support herself, and staggering up the stairs, down the hall, and, after fumbling with the key, into her room.

Closing the door quietly behind her, she leaned against it for support, trying in vain to figure out what had just happened. Where had that come from, and why had it ended so abruptly, leaving her both frustrated and confused?

There was no way she was going to find sleep anytime soon. Hoping she wouldn’t disturb the other guests in the hotel, she ran a hot bath in the hopes of soaking away her agitation.

She slid into the hot bubble bath and sighed, thinking back on the evening. It had been wonderful, sexual frustration notwithstanding. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so completely admired, respected, and desired by another man. Especially desired. She shivered at the memory of his lips on her bare back. Those kisses seemed more intimate to her than any others.

She should be angry that he’d left her like that, but she actually found his restraint sexy. Not too many men would have walked away from a woman who was as obviously willing as she was.

Adrenaline still pulsed through her body. The zing of electricity she felt whenever he touched her, the breathlessness when he kissed her, was unlike anything she’d ever known. Her lips still tingled where he’d gently nibbled them.

She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed being wooed, pursued, and yes . . . seduced.

She groaned and slid deeper into the bubbles. What was she doing? That seemed to be a constant refrain this week. Her life was so confused right now, and Alex only added to the confusion.

I’m thirty-eight years old, she thought, newly divorced, out of work, and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. She didn’t need another man . . . not now.

But what a man he was. Strong, yet sensitive; in control, but not controlling; worldly, tolerant, and insightful.

He understood her in a way few others did. His eyes revealed flashes of intuition when she exposed some other aspect of her character. Add to all that, the rare and beautiful combination of masculinity and grace, and you had the total package. “Oh God,” she moaned. “I’m in deep trouble.”



It wasn’t a hot bath that Alex sought, but a cold shower. His high-minded plans to let her down easily had dissipated into an all-out seduction.

What the hell was the matter with him anyway? One minute he’s embarrassed by his innuendo and the next minute he’s trying to bring it to fruition.

He stood in the small guest-bath shower at Trevor’s, arms braced against the wall, letting the cold, stinging spray cool his blood.

His grandmother was right. He needed to be careful where Sarah was concerned. She was recovering from a divorce, a husband who’d cheated on her, and she didn’t deserve yet another heartbreak.

He never set out to hurt the women he dated. He respected women. With examples like his grandmother and mother how could he not? He was careful to avoid those looking to marry into money and title. That’s why he only had ‘relationships,’ if that’s what they were, with women who could hold their own—women who were only looking for a casual fling.

Sarah wasn’t one of those women. She was so easy to read, she’d get beat at poker even if she was holding a royal flush.

Warm and tender, sophisticated yet reserved, and the kind of woman who’d put everything she had into what was important to her. She was the first woman in recent memory, perhaps ever, who didn’t give a damn about his title, his money, or his relative fame.

He toweled his wet hair before discarding the towel and climbing into bed. He had to make up his mind. Either he must let her down easy as he’d previously intended, or pursue her with all the seriousness she deserved. The question that would plague him all night was: which one would it be?