lord?’
‘I mean I am on to you, my dear.’ She shrank from him, but he still had hold of her hand. He lifted it to his lips, looking at her over the top of it, testing her reaction. He could not see clearly, but he could tell by the widening of her eyes and her little gasp of shock that he had hit a nerve. ‘What are you afraid of? Are you afraid I will take you back to face your demons? Or that I will ravish you, here in this coach, with everyone coming and going around us?’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘You were the silly one a moment ago. Now I am to joinyou. Two silly people holding hands in the dark.’ He opened her hand and put his lips to the palm and then brushed them up to her wrist, sending shock waves all up and down her spine and into her belly.
She had to stop this right now. He must think she was either a little innocent whom he could manipulate or a demi-rep of the kind who would pick up a perfect stranger in a coach and go with him for whatever she could get out of him. Before she could stop herself, she had said it aloud.
He laughed. ‘Which is it, Miss Draper, the innocent or the demi-rep?’
‘I will not dignify that question with an answer.’
‘Let us try something else then, something which will undoubtedly tell me the truth.’
His arm was about her and his lips on hers before she had any idea of what he intended. She struggled, but he held her firmly and then she realised she had no more fight left in her. She was tired of struggling, tired of pretending. Her mouth softened and she let the sensations that coursed through her have their way. His kiss, featherlight at first, deepened and she surrendered to a soaring giddiness that made her cling to him and took no heed of time and place, or the possibility that Joe Bland and Rose might return at any moment.
He found himself wanting her, wanting her so badly he could hardly contain himself. And even when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, breathless and unsatisfied, he still did not know the answer to his original question: innocent or demi-rep? Was her response instinctive or the clever strategy of one experienced in the art of dalliance? And her quiet hiss of ‘How dare you, sir?’ told him no more.
Nor was he to learn any more because Rose and Joe returned and, seeing them sitting side by side, drew their own conclusions and sat opposite them. They were obliged to remain side by side all the way to Kendal, being thrownagainst each other with every bump in the road, each smouldering with anger and resentment, mixed with a fierce longing for more time. Time they did not have.
It was half past one in the morning when the coach slowed to enter Kendal and turned in under the arch of the Woolpack where it stopped. Alex opened the door, jumped down and turned to hand Emma down. As soon as she was in the yard she marched ahead of him into the inn. After two days she had lost her nervousness about entering such places and seemed able to find her way about them like a seasoned traveller, which was as well, she told herself, because she meant to disdain all attempts to help her. His assistance came at too great a price: the loss of her pride and her dignity, not to mention the surrender of her secret. His quizzing her about the reason for her journey worried her. He had never mentioned Lord Bentwater to her, but she dare not risk him not knowing the gentleman.
If she could have found her way to Mrs Summers there and then, she would have done so, but she could hardly arrive on her doorstep in the early hours of the morning, dishevelled and penniless. She did not fancy sitting in the parlour all night, even if such a thing were allowed, so a bed for the remainder of the night was called for. She went into the parlour and marched purposefully up to the counter and gave the bell on its top a good shake.
‘I need a room for the night,’ she told the woman who answered its summons. ‘For me and my friend.’ She nodded at Rose, who had
‘I mean I am on to you, my dear.’ She shrank from him, but he still had hold of her hand. He lifted it to his lips, looking at her over the top of it, testing her reaction. He could not see clearly, but he could tell by the widening of her eyes and her little gasp of shock that he had hit a nerve. ‘What are you afraid of? Are you afraid I will take you back to face your demons? Or that I will ravish you, here in this coach, with everyone coming and going around us?’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘You were the silly one a moment ago. Now I am to joinyou. Two silly people holding hands in the dark.’ He opened her hand and put his lips to the palm and then brushed them up to her wrist, sending shock waves all up and down her spine and into her belly.
She had to stop this right now. He must think she was either a little innocent whom he could manipulate or a demi-rep of the kind who would pick up a perfect stranger in a coach and go with him for whatever she could get out of him. Before she could stop herself, she had said it aloud.
He laughed. ‘Which is it, Miss Draper, the innocent or the demi-rep?’
‘I will not dignify that question with an answer.’
‘Let us try something else then, something which will undoubtedly tell me the truth.’
His arm was about her and his lips on hers before she had any idea of what he intended. She struggled, but he held her firmly and then she realised she had no more fight left in her. She was tired of struggling, tired of pretending. Her mouth softened and she let the sensations that coursed through her have their way. His kiss, featherlight at first, deepened and she surrendered to a soaring giddiness that made her cling to him and took no heed of time and place, or the possibility that Joe Bland and Rose might return at any moment.
He found himself wanting her, wanting her so badly he could hardly contain himself. And even when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, breathless and unsatisfied, he still did not know the answer to his original question: innocent or demi-rep? Was her response instinctive or the clever strategy of one experienced in the art of dalliance? And her quiet hiss of ‘How dare you, sir?’ told him no more.
Nor was he to learn any more because Rose and Joe returned and, seeing them sitting side by side, drew their own conclusions and sat opposite them. They were obliged to remain side by side all the way to Kendal, being thrownagainst each other with every bump in the road, each smouldering with anger and resentment, mixed with a fierce longing for more time. Time they did not have.
It was half past one in the morning when the coach slowed to enter Kendal and turned in under the arch of the Woolpack where it stopped. Alex opened the door, jumped down and turned to hand Emma down. As soon as she was in the yard she marched ahead of him into the inn. After two days she had lost her nervousness about entering such places and seemed able to find her way about them like a seasoned traveller, which was as well, she told herself, because she meant to disdain all attempts to help her. His assistance came at too great a price: the loss of her pride and her dignity, not to mention the surrender of her secret. His quizzing her about the reason for her journey worried her. He had never mentioned Lord Bentwater to her, but she dare not risk him not knowing the gentleman.
If she could have found her way to Mrs Summers there and then, she would have done so, but she could hardly arrive on her doorstep in the early hours of the morning, dishevelled and penniless. She did not fancy sitting in the parlour all night, even if such a thing were allowed, so a bed for the remainder of the night was called for. She went into the parlour and marched purposefully up to the counter and gave the bell on its top a good shake.
‘I need a room for the night,’ she told the woman who answered its summons. ‘For me and my friend.’ She nodded at Rose, who had
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