in the depths of her thoughts. What her heart yearned for went against everything she deemed honourable, and yet she had no control over it.
Maria awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Still drowsy with slumber, it took her a moment to remember where she was. When the knocking came again, startled, immediately she was out of bed, her heart slamming into her ribs, her knees turning to jelly. Pushing back her hair, she padded across the room.
‘Who is it?’
‘Charles.’
Maria stared at the door, reluctant to open it, reluctant to look Charles in the eyes after what had happened last night.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, hearing the tiredness in her voice.
‘You—you startled me. I didn’t expect you…’
‘Really,’ he mocked from the other side of the door. ‘Whom did you expect? It’s late, Maria. If you remember, I told you I wanted to make an early start.’
‘I’ll get dressed. I’ll be down in a moment.’
Charles was already doing full justice to his breakfast when she arrived downstairs. He raised his brows when she slipped into the chair across from him, his expression oddly impassive.
‘You slept well?’ he enquired coolly.
‘Eventually,’ Maria answered quietly, focusing her attention on the food the innkeeper’s wife placed infront of her and pouring coffee into a mug. She took a sip of the steaming beverage gratefully. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I was more tired than I thought.’
Charles wished he could have let her rest a little longer. But there was no help for it. They must press on if they were to reach Calais that day.
‘You can sleep in the coach. I promise not to wake you,’ he teased gently.
Maria trembled at the gentle confidence she heard in his smiling voice.
As she climbed into the coach for the final stage of their journey, she found herself alone once more with this man who was beginning to have such a powerful effect on her. She had become a bewildered young woman with an added problem and an upbringing that convinced her that what she had let happen and enjoyed with Charles was unforgivable.
‘Maria,’ Charles said, dragging her from her thoughts. ‘Is something wrong?’
Her eyes flew open and his unfathomable light blue eyes locked on to hers. ‘Wrong? I…’
‘Perhaps you’d like to talk about it?’ he asked calmly. She shook her head. ‘You’re afraid. Is it me you fear, Maria? Or something else?’
The way he spoke her name in his rich deep voice had the same stirring effect on her as the touch of his lips. ‘It—it’s about last night when—when you…’
‘When I kissed you.’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘And?’
‘I’m afraid of the things you made me feel,’ sheadmitted desperately. ‘I don’t understand them. I—realise that to you this is merely a—a dalliance…’
‘Is that so?’ he teased, a lazy, seductive grin sweeping across his handsome face. ‘And you know that, do you, Maria?’
She swallowed nervously. ‘Do you mean it isn’t?’ Visions of being kissed whenever he felt like it rose to alarming prominence in her mind. Hoping that by speaking in a calm, reasonable voice, rather than heatedly protesting his intentions, she said, ‘It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just that you shouldn’t have done it. It was quite wrong of you, and I would appreciate it if you refrained from—from doing anything like that in the future.’
With a mixture of amusement and admiration, Charles noted her request. With any other woman, such a request would only add to his determination to taste her response to him again—and Maria was no exception. Of that there was no doubt. Maria hadn’t any notion how much control he had to maintain over himself to keep his hands off her, and if the situation arose again his actions would be exactly the same—and Henry Winston be damned.
‘The kiss was harmless, wasn’t it?’
‘I think so.’
‘Neither of us was hurt, were
Maria awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Still drowsy with slumber, it took her a moment to remember where she was. When the knocking came again, startled, immediately she was out of bed, her heart slamming into her ribs, her knees turning to jelly. Pushing back her hair, she padded across the room.
‘Who is it?’
‘Charles.’
Maria stared at the door, reluctant to open it, reluctant to look Charles in the eyes after what had happened last night.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, hearing the tiredness in her voice.
‘You—you startled me. I didn’t expect you…’
‘Really,’ he mocked from the other side of the door. ‘Whom did you expect? It’s late, Maria. If you remember, I told you I wanted to make an early start.’
‘I’ll get dressed. I’ll be down in a moment.’
Charles was already doing full justice to his breakfast when she arrived downstairs. He raised his brows when she slipped into the chair across from him, his expression oddly impassive.
‘You slept well?’ he enquired coolly.
‘Eventually,’ Maria answered quietly, focusing her attention on the food the innkeeper’s wife placed infront of her and pouring coffee into a mug. She took a sip of the steaming beverage gratefully. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I was more tired than I thought.’
Charles wished he could have let her rest a little longer. But there was no help for it. They must press on if they were to reach Calais that day.
‘You can sleep in the coach. I promise not to wake you,’ he teased gently.
Maria trembled at the gentle confidence she heard in his smiling voice.
As she climbed into the coach for the final stage of their journey, she found herself alone once more with this man who was beginning to have such a powerful effect on her. She had become a bewildered young woman with an added problem and an upbringing that convinced her that what she had let happen and enjoyed with Charles was unforgivable.
‘Maria,’ Charles said, dragging her from her thoughts. ‘Is something wrong?’
Her eyes flew open and his unfathomable light blue eyes locked on to hers. ‘Wrong? I…’
‘Perhaps you’d like to talk about it?’ he asked calmly. She shook her head. ‘You’re afraid. Is it me you fear, Maria? Or something else?’
The way he spoke her name in his rich deep voice had the same stirring effect on her as the touch of his lips. ‘It—it’s about last night when—when you…’
‘When I kissed you.’
‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘And?’
‘I’m afraid of the things you made me feel,’ sheadmitted desperately. ‘I don’t understand them. I—realise that to you this is merely a—a dalliance…’
‘Is that so?’ he teased, a lazy, seductive grin sweeping across his handsome face. ‘And you know that, do you, Maria?’
She swallowed nervously. ‘Do you mean it isn’t?’ Visions of being kissed whenever he felt like it rose to alarming prominence in her mind. Hoping that by speaking in a calm, reasonable voice, rather than heatedly protesting his intentions, she said, ‘It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s just that you shouldn’t have done it. It was quite wrong of you, and I would appreciate it if you refrained from—from doing anything like that in the future.’
With a mixture of amusement and admiration, Charles noted her request. With any other woman, such a request would only add to his determination to taste her response to him again—and Maria was no exception. Of that there was no doubt. Maria hadn’t any notion how much control he had to maintain over himself to keep his hands off her, and if the situation arose again his actions would be exactly the same—and Henry Winston be damned.
‘The kiss was harmless, wasn’t it?’
‘I think so.’
‘Neither of us was hurt, were
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