The Heir

Chapter Twenty-five

By the time Duncan finished eating his breakfast, he was quite proud of himself. He had managed to accomplish a lot of socializing by taking his plate with him, as he'd seen others do, and making a circuit of the downstairs rooms, stopping here and there to pass out a compliment or remark on the storm that had blown in and was now battering at the windows.

If any guests had considered an outing for the day, they had now changed their minds. But then no one really cared to go out in winter, even if it weren't raining, when there were enough activities to occupy them indoors.

Card games were already in progress, some merely friendly, but most with gambling involved—a pastime the English ton seemed to find particular enjoyment in. Charades were being enacted in the drawing room amidst much laughter. The billiards room sported not one, but two tables which kept many of the older gentlemen busy, including Archie—Neville hadn't made an appearance yet.

A young lass was entertaining a group of ladies in the music room, a pretty girl with a touch of red in her blond hair who caught Duncan's eye. You'd have to be deaf to enjoy her singing, though, so he didn't stay long there.

He would have lingered in the drawing room, but that was where Ophelia was now holding court, which was too bad, since Amanda Locke was also there, and he had been thinking he'd get to know her a little better. Just because he didn't like her brother was no reason to discount one of the prettier lasses there. She wasn't as beautiful as Ophelia, but then it was unlikely that anyone could be. Ophelia was an oddity, too pretty and well aware of it.

He had covered all the rooms when he realized he hadn't seen Sabrina in any of them. The only two he hadn't checked were the ballroom, not used during the day, and Neville's study, also unused since it had pretty much been given over to Neville's estate manager, who'd been given leave while the house was entertaining. Sabrina's aunt who had been with her last evening was in the music room with another woman about the same age, but Sabrina wasn't with them either.

It occurred to Duncan then that Sabrina might not have come to Summers Glade. How ironic, that he would now have to suffer Ophelia's presence, yet the boon he was supposed to have for it, Sabrina's company, was going to be denied him. But why wouldn't she come herself when the rest of her household was here, even her guest?

Before he asked her aunt that very question, he checked the last two rooms. He found the study had been locked—a wise precaution, he supposed. The ballroom wasn't, but it was dark inside due to the storm, and empty as it should be; at least at a glance it seemed to be. A slight movement caught his eye, though, just as he was closing the door, and there she was, across the room, standing at the side of one of the glassed balcony doors. It was the lilac wallpaper behind her, which was about the same shade as her dress, that had blended her with the room, nearly hiding her.

Sabrina heard him approaching, and without looking, knew it was Duncan. There was something about his stride, so brisk, that was quite recognizable. Her pulse picked up a beat, an odd occurrence that happened each time he was near. She wondered why he was there. It wouldn't be for the same reason she was, she was sure.

As soon as the storm had begun, she had sought a quiet place to observe the primal magnificence of nature unleashed in full fury. She loved storms as much as she did gentle rain. While some people might grow nervous at the rumble of thunder or a whip-crack of lightning, she actually found such things soothing and would as soon be out in the midst of it.

That was impossible, at least today it was. But the next best thing was to watch, and the balcony doors with their glass panes gave her an unobstructed view of the terrace and beyond, and the empty ballroom gave her the privacy to enjoy that view alone.

But she didn't mind that she was being disturbed by Duncan; in fact, it was rather nice that she could share the view with him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said when his step stopped next to her.

She thought she'd have to explain what she meant, but knew he understood when he replied, "Would you like a closer look at it?"

She glanced at him and smiled, but shook her head sadly. "My aunts would disapprove of a wet, bedraggled look, particularly so close to the luncheon hour when I wouldn't have time to go home and change."

He smiled back, but took her hand in his and, opening the balcony door, pulled her outside with him into the rain. He stopped there on the terrace and lifted his face to the sky, savoring the elements as she might have done.

God help her, in that moment she fell completely in love with him.

Duncan thought he must be mad, to have given in to that impulse—until he looked down at Sabrina. There was such joy in her expression, such delight, that it made her radiantly lovely. Even though her hair had quickly soaked and was stringy about her face, for a brief moment he was completely mesmerized, by her incredible eyes, a raindrop on one lash before it slid to her cheek, another rivulet pooling in one dimple before dividing and rushing over her perky little chin, the suppleness of her lips when she smiled that drew his eyes to her mouth ...

He cupped her adorable face in his hands and kissed her. It was another impulse, but one he couldn't regret once begun. The rain was stingingly cold, but he didn't feel the cold, felt only the heat of her lips, and the steamy heat where their bodies touched. She was ambrosia to taste, a fresh breath of summer in the bleakness of winter.

Thunder rumbled distantly and he drew her instinctively closer. Lightning flashed and he parted her lips, his tongue thrusting inside. For a time there was no one else in existence, just the two of them and the elements, and the passion that had burst upon them.

When Duncan came to his senses, he was assailed with guilt, embarrassment, and something else, which he didn't recognize immediately as fear. He could blame Archie for having set him to thinking about Sabrina as a woman, rather than just as a friend, and he would blame him if this impulse ended up costing him her friendship.

He took his hands from her and stepped back. He was too upset now to look at her, wanted only to escape before she said something that would sever their relationship, yet he had to apologize first, couldn't leave her thinking that he was the barbarian he was reputed to be.

"That was—it shouldna—" Duncan groaned inwardly. When had he ever been so bloody tongue-tied before? "I'm sorry, lass. I dinna ken why I did that, but it willna happen again, I promise you."