There was part of him that wanted to tuck her under his arm and send that rake back to India or wherever he’d surfaced from.
He knew Stallworth’s type. He’d been Stallworth’s type.
Any woman who showed an interest was fair game. He was a flirt. And when another woman came along, Stallworth would give her just as much attention as he’d given Sarah. But how to explain that to someone as sweet and innocent as Sarah? He cleared his throat. “Perhaps when you stop chasing that complete wastrel—”
She dug her fingers into the soft side of his arms. “How dare you call him that?”
“I’m telling you the truth.” He ground between clenched truth. Why didn’t she see what was so plain?
“I can’t believe you are such an elitist snob,” she fired back. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course I can believe it. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the great Earl of Everly.”
Anger rumbled in his chest and he leaned closer, his face dropping close to hers. Which was a mistake because her honey scent wafted up to his nose, making his thoughts unfocused.
“Did you just call me a snob?”
She sniffed, her gaze narrowing. “If the Hessian fits…”
Just like that, he backed up, breaking her grip and swirling his coat off her shoulders and onto his arm. He might have looked like a conquistador except for that just behind him was one of the infernal crates littering the kitchen and as his calves bumped into it; he lost his balance and started to fall back.
That was what he got for trying to be suave in his rejection. He was going to look like a complete fool.
But then, Sarah’s hands shot out and suddenly, he was tipping back toward her. She was petite for a woman, and her strength surprised him as he tilted back toward her. They began to fall the other way, seesawing between crates when he planted his feet and crushed her to his chest.
Her soft curves melded into his harder frame making him let out a groan of…he should say frustration. But he didn’t think that was entirely accurate because he wished to keep her pressed against him for a very long time.
“Lord Everly,” she gasped, her hands slipping about his waist. “Are you all right?”
“I…” He was just fine, thanks to her quick action. “I’m fine. You?”
His jacket was crushed between them but he could still feel her. Soft and warm and achingly small against his much larger frame.
“I’m fine.” She shivered against his chest making him wish to hold her that much tighter. “You?”
She’d already asked him that. He’d already answered. He ought to tease her for it, but he found...he couldn’t. Not when she was looking at him like this, all earnest concern and without a hint of anger.
“Perfect, thanks to you.” He couldn't help himself, he settled her a bit closer. It was just that she fit so nicely against him.
Confusion clouded her gaze for a moment, making her lips part in what another man might have considered an invitation. But he knew better. Still, the idea of lowering his mouth to hers made him ache.
She took a step back, breaking their embrace. “I’m glad,” she muttered as she cleared her throat. “I should...I should go. My mother will need help inventorying all these goods.”
It was a good idea. They should part ways. Then he could remind himself why Sarah was not a desirable woman but a nuisance.
And honestly, he needed to regain his sanity. A sense of normalcy.
Because every time he was near Sarah, he seemed to lose his reason. He’d wished to help Max but he just couldn’t do this any longer. She was scrambling his thoughts.
Slowly, he backed up. “If you’re not hurt, I will leave you to it. I’m sure you’re all busy with wedding preparations and…” Was he rambling now? Hadn’t she just told him that very thing?
She quirked a brow, her usual look of detached annoyance marking her brow. “You mean you're trusting me to care for myself?”
He grimaced, quickly sidestepping the crate on which he’d tripped a moment ago. “You make it sound as though I’ve dogged your every step, but to be fair, this is the first time I’ve seen you in almost a year.”
Her head dropped, her chin tucking into her chest, but not before he saw the pain that lanced across her face at the reminder of the last time they’d met. “Thank you again for attending my father’s funeral. It was a difficult time.”
Theo paused. He’d been about to make his exit. Actually his plan was to head directly to Max’s study and inform his friend that he could not continue looking after Sarah. The girl was intent upon ruining herself and Theo didn’t wish to see her fall. Nor could he keep his distance from the growing attraction he felt for her, though Max did not need to know about that.
But her words, uttered softly, tugged at his chest. She’d been so brave at her father’s funeral. Instead of rushing headlong into disaster, she’d held her head high and propped her mother up for the entire event. “I can’t say it was a pleasure, but I can tell you that you did a wonderful job that day.”
Her head snapped up again, a question crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Are you...complimenting me?”
He chuckled at that. “I give loads of compliments when they are deserved.” And then, heaven help him, he stepped closer. He reached out and lightly chucked her chin. It was a brotherly touch, meant to remind both of them of his role in her life. “Like just now, for example. Your quick thinking kept me from cracking my head open on one of these crates. Thank you.”
Her lips curved up into a slight smile but her entire face softened. She looked radiant like that and for a moment, he forgot to breathe. “You’re welcome.”
His fingers itched to touch her again. In comfort or something else, but he kept his hands firmly tucked against his sides. “Go change. You’ll freeze like that.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re bossing me about again.” But much of her vitriol was gone from her voice.
“So I am,” he said as he turned and headed for Max’s study. He could barely look at her when she was angry at him. Soft and sweet, she stole the air from his lungs.
Fortunately, he found Max, just in the entry with his soon-to-be bride, Marigold. The two were at the top of the stairs, speaking in soft tones, their heads bent close together.
Theo stopped. How funny life could be sometimes. Five years ago it had been him who was in love and Max who looked on. His fists clenched as memories assaulted him.
“Theo,” Max called with a smile. “How are you, my friend? It’s been too long. You look…” Max paused, cocking his head to one side. “Well.”
Theo chuckled at that. He likely looked terrible after his go around with Sarah. “You know that I don’t.” Then he started up the stairs. “I’m glad to see you too, and relieved that you are home, finally.”
“As am I,” Max looked down at Marigold again, a gentle smile curving his lips.
An irrational jealousy skittered down Theo’s spine before he pushed the feeling aside. He was happy for his friend, of course, but that did not mean he had any desire to fall in love. Not after the last time. It was far better to be a rake, keep his dalliances short and meaningless. He motioned to Max. “May I have a word?”