“Get off me, you brute!” she commanded, twisting to the side while simultaneously striking at his bare chest with both fists.
Gavin grunted and opened his eyes. He blinked and squinted before focusing on her in absolute bewilderment.
“Charlotte? I…What are you doing here?”
She didn’t bother with a reply. Flexing her knee, she brought it up between their bodies as hard as she could. Gavin curled up like a boiled shrimp and she flung herself off the side of the bed, landing hard on her feet with a muffled thump.
“Son of a…bitch,” he wheezed. “What the hell did you do that for?”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Cover yourself.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Which I won’t answer until you cover yourself!”
With a muffled curse he slowly unwound himself, sat up against the wooden headboard, and dragged the blanket up to his waist.
“There. Are you satisfied now?”
She gave a haughty toss of her head. “Where are we?”
“You would do better to ask where my bollocks are after your knee shoved them up into my—”
“Just answer my question. I–I did not mean to strike you in that particular area.”
“The hell you didn’t.”
She frowned. “You are quite vulgar this morning. Maybe if your precious Amanda were here you would be in a better mood.”
“Bloody Christ.” His gaze slid to the ceiling. “I cannot be blamed for what I say in my sleep. Amanda is an old mistress. We parted ways amicably nearly four years ago. I don’t know why I said her name, any more than I know why you just tried to make me infertile. If this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life, may God strike me down now.”
“I would be less concerned with God and more concerned with your wife, if I were you,” Charlotte spat as she began to mindlessly work her fingers through her ringlets. “Now if you don’t mind, could you please tell me where we are?”
“The Kingsman Inn. Not the best of establishments, but hardly the worst. They are almost full up because of the storm. We were lucky to get rooms.”
She shook her head. “I do not remember coming here at all.”
“You were sleeping.”
That explained it, then.
“And Tabitha?” Charlotte bit her lip. “Is she…”
“She’s going to make a full recovery, although the doctor has advised she not travel for at least a day, maybe two.”
“Two days?” Charlotte said in dismay. “But that means…”
“Yes,” Gavin said with the ghost of a smile. “We’ll be staying here longer than planned. And since there are no other rooms available…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but then he didn’t need to.
The implication was obvious.
And dire.
They couldn’t even go two minutes without wanting to kill each other. How were they supposed to survive two entire days? Sharing a carriage was bad enough. But a room…a room was out of the question.
She couldn’t sleep beside him and pretend she wasn’t attracted to him. Of course, that attraction would inevitably lead to disappointment when he turned her away, which would lead to anger, which would most likely lead to her smothering him with a pillow while he slept.
It was a vicious cycle that she had no interest in starting. Even if Gavin did look like some bronzed Greek God with his sculpted body glistening in the sunlight.
Against her will, her gaze darted to his exposed chest. The blanket had slithered down, once again revealing the line of hair that trailed from his belly button to his…
“Something of interest catch your eye?”
She glanced quickly back up at his face, and the amused twist of his mouth made her spine stiffen. He was laughing at her! This could absolutely not continue.
“Where room is Tabitha in?” she asked as sudden inspiration struck. “I will stay with her until she is ready to leave.”
Gavin cupped his hands behind his head in a lazy stretch that pushed out his ribcage and sucked in his stomach, dropping the blanket a few inches lower.
I will not look, Charlotte thought determinedly. I will not, I will not, I will not.
“Unfortunately, the doctor’s orders were very specific,” he drawled. “She is to rest without interruption and I am afraid you, my dear wife, have already proved yourself to be exactly that.”
“I would not be an interruption! And besides, she will need someone to care for her. Someone to fetch her meals and glasses of water and fluff her pillow.”
“All of that has been taken care of. Your maid shall want for nothing while she is recovering, except for peace and quiet, which she will not get if you are near her.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to argue, but realized she couldn’t. Gavin was correct, blast him. She could not help but bring a level of frenzied energy with her wherever she went, and if Tabitha truly needed rest and relaxation to recuperate, she would achieve neither in Charlotte’s presence.
“Very well. I will simply remain here and you” – her eyes narrowed – “will have to find other accommodations for the remainder of our stay.”
“I would if I could. However, as I told you before, the inn is completely full.”
“But I cannot possibly stay here with you!” Aghast at the very notion and unable to remain still any longer, she began to pace the length of the small room. “You said we would not have an intimate marriage,” she hissed, pausing just long enough to toss Gavin an accusing glare over her shoulder.
“And I meant it.”
Her laugh was short and filled with incredulity. “Really? Is that why I awoke this morning to find you next to me? Naked?”
“Would you rather I have worn wet clothes to bed?”
“I would rather you have slept on the floor!”
Charlotte nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. How had he moved so fast? Like a snake through the grass, she thought icily as he spun her around to face him.
They squared off, like boxers ready to go toe to toe in the ring.
Had he brought the blanket with him?
She didn’t dare check.
“If my being near you is so repulsive,” he snarled, “might I suggest you move to the floor. Isn’t that were female dogs lay?”
Her hand moved before her mind fully processed what she was doing. Gavin’s head whipped to the side when the flat of her palm connected with his cheek and the loud, harsh slap of flesh striking flesh echoed through the room.
Charlotte gasped and immediately stepped away, horrified at what she had done. No matter the provocation, she had never struck another human being before, and now, a day into her marriage, she had slapped her own husband! What was wrong with her?
“Gavin, I—”
“Do not,” he said roughly. Rubbing the side of his face where her hand had left a harsh red imprint beneath the scruff of dark facial hair, he dropped the blanket–no peeking, Charlotte–before yanking on a pair of trousers.
“This marriage was a mistake. We are not suited for each other.” His mouth twisted as he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and stared down at the floorboards. “I am not suited for you. We never should have struck a bargain.”
“I am sorry for hitting you,” she said quietly.
“I should not have said what I did.” He met her gaze. “It was cruel, and thoughtless, and I apologize. We are fools for thinking this could work.”
“We have only been married for two days,” Charlotte said, striving for a cheerful tone.
“Exactly. Two days and we are already at each other’s throats.”
She couldn’t argue with him.
But neither was she willing to admit defeat.
Yes, it seemed they fought more than they agreed…but that’s what stubborn, hardheaded people did. She could have fled the moment her feet touched Scottish soil. Gavin could have demanded complete obedience; as her
husband, he was within his rights to command it. But she hadn’t run. And he hadn’t tried to curb her willful spirit. Instead, in their own way, they were trying to find a path to middle ground.
Unfortunately, they were discovering a lot of rocks in the way.
“Maybe if we took some time to get to know each other…”
Gavin snorted. “You don’t even want to share the same room.”
“Because you were the one who said you wanted a marriage of convenience,” she countered. “Nothing more and nothing less, I believe were your exact words. Then this morning I wake to find you in the same bed as me. And you were…”
“I was what?”
“Naked,” she hissed. “It was…it was a bit of a shock, is all. Especially since after our wedding you who made it clear this was to be a business relationship, not a–”
“I bloody well know what I said,” he snapped.
“Maybe,” she ventured carefully, “if we took things slowly, and made an effort to be more kind and considerate, we could eventually come to care for each other. It wouldn’t be so awful, would it? To love the person you’re married to.”
But Gavin was already shaking his head. “No. No. Everyone I ever cared for is dead. I am not a man worth knowing, nor one worth loving. You would do well to remember that. I would do well to remember that,” he said bitterly.
Her heart aching for the pain she heard in his words, pain he was careful to keep hidden, Charlotte sat gingerly beside him and reached across the bed to touch his hand.
He allowed her to squeeze his fingers.
For a few precious seconds they were joined, not just their bodies, but their spirits. Their souls. She felt his hurt as if it were her own, and at last she began to understand why he was closed off and withdrawn.
Wouldn’t she be, too, if everyone she loved was dead?
And it was only logical she’d try to protect herself against further suffering by refusing to open up her heart again.
If you didn’t feel love, then you couldn’t feel loss.
But wasn’t not loving its own special type of agony?
“Gavin, I’m sure none of their deaths were your fault,” she began gently. “I know you would never purposefully hurt anyone.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” He launched himself off the bed and stalked to the window. Arms braced on the sill, he turned his face away from her and glared out through the glass to the road beyond. “We will keep things as they are. I shouldn’t have overstepped my boundaries last night, but it was late, and the doctor gave me some laudanum before he stitched my brow. I didn’t even realize I was in the same bed as you until I woke.”
Charlotte was glad he couldn’t see her frustration. “But if we are to share a room–”
“I’ll find another room,” he interrupted. “Or I’ll sleep in the bloody stables. This will not happen again. You’ve my word on that.”
She didn’t want his word.
She wanted the man she’d glimpsed, however briefly, beneath all that tough armor. It was the same man who had kissed her breathless in the study. The one who had risked his life to rescue hers. The one who had held her so tenderly in his arms, as if she were made of glass.
But she wasn’t a woman without her pride.
And no matter how much she wanted something, she’d never resort to begging.
“Very well,” she said, matching her tone to his. “But if this is to become my room, then I shall require privacy to bathe and dress.”
“Of course. I’ll have your trunk brought up at once.”
“It wasn’t lost in the wreck?” she asked, surprised.
“It was the only thing that was salvaged.”
If Charlotte never thought of that awful night again, she’d be happy. But she had to know…
“How did it happen?”
“A front wheels became stuck in the mud and jerked the carriage to the side, snapping an axle,” Gavin said matter-of-factly. “The carriage was too top heavy to begin with from all of the baggage, and it flipped almost instantaneously, which is why none of us had time to brace ourselves. The door opened and I was thrown clear, as was the driver. We were both knocked unconscious. He came to first, and when he saw how close the rig was to the edge of the cliff, he cut the horses loose before waking me.”
“Thank heavens for his quick actions.” Charlotte could only imagine the chaos that would have ensued had the horses not been freed. There was little doubt in her mind she and Tabitha would have fallen to their deaths, and she shuddered now to think of it. “The horses? Were they injured?”
Gavin shook his head. “They are fine. One has a cut on his flank, but it was only a superficial wound. They will be ready to depart when we are.” He cleared his throat and glanced at her over his shoulder, his brow mired in regret. “I…I am sorry, Charlotte.”
She blinked. “For what?”
“For putting you in such danger.”
“You couldn’t have possibly anticipated what would happen. It was an accident,” she said earnestly. “It wasn’t your fault. You cannot shoulder the blame whenever something goes wrong.”
He smiled without humour. “Who else is going to do it? I’ll leave you to your bath, then. Do you require a maid?”
“I should be able to manage on my own.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, then flicked back up to his face. “Gavin–”
“I’ll see myself out,” he said and then he was gone, the echo of the slamming door the only indication he’d ever been in the bedroom at all.
Gavin let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, a calming technique he had used since childhood whenever he needed to refocus his mind. It always worked.
Except this time.
When he reached ten, he still thought of Charlotte. Her dewy scent lingered in his nostrils. The vision of her hair spread out like wildfire on the white pillow tantalized him endlessly. The sensuous curves of her body, contoured perfectly beneath her nightgown, was enough to make him hard by memory alone.
She was a siren and he nothing more than a helpless sailor cast under her spell, ready–no, willing–to crash his ship against the rocks to get to her.
Would it be so awful to let himself come to care for her, he wondered as he forced himself to walk down the hallway? To love her as a husband should love his wife? To treasure her as she deserved to be treasured, and treat her like the queen that she was?
Yes, he thought immediately.
The answer was yes.
The only thing guaranteed about people was that they’d disappoint you. In the blink of an eye they could tear the very heart from your chest and pummel it to dust beneath their boot heel. It had already happened to Gavin once before, when he’d stood over his mother’s bed and watched helplessly as she stained the sheets red with blood.
He would not allow it to happen again.
If he did not let himself feel anything for Charlotte, she could not hurt him. Because she would hurt him. Whether intentionally or not, she was the kind of woman capable of breaking a man’s heart into a thousand pieces.
Loving a woman like that meant surrendering yourself. Mind, body, and soul.
And Gavin wasn’t the sort of man who surrendered.
But while he had every intention of winning the war, he feared he was losing the battle. Because he was falling for her. He simply hadn’t realized it until he thought she was dead. The devastation had nearly brought him to his knees…and if not for the slight chance of her still being alive inside the carriage, he would have begged the devil to take him then and there.
God only knew he had no shot at getting into heaven.
With a groan, Gavin closed his eyes. He needed to keep his distance. He needed to remain emotionless. He needed to think of his marriage as just another contract.
He needed to put some damn clothes on.
Reaching the end of the hallway, he turned left and opened the first door on his right. Ern
ie Herron, his valet of nearly eight years, looked up from where he was polishing Gavin’s boots and didn’t bother to disguise his snicker of laughter.
“Kicked ye out, did she? I found a change of clothes as ye requested. Hard to come by in these parts, but most of it should fit.”
Small and wiry, with brown hair that was always sticking up no matter how often he combed it, and a set of the most crooked teeth Gavin had ever had the misfortune of seeing, Ernie was intelligent, loyal, and willing to do whatever was asked of him without any questions.
In short, he was the perfect employee, and as such was privy to all of Gavin’s most guarded secrets. He knew the marriage was little more than a front, and he had just enough cheek to tease Gavin mercilessly about it.
“Thank you,” Gavin said, closing the door behind him and squeezing into the tiny room that was hardly larger than a broom closet. He didn’t know how the devil he and Ernie were both supposed to occupy such a ridiculously small space, but they’d have to find a way. Because come hell or high water, he was not sleeping next to Charlotte again.
The temptation was too great.
“Just how is Mrs. Graystone this morning?” Ernie asked with a grin.
Gavin scowled at the valet. If Ernie wasn’t so good at his job he would have been fired years ago for his impudence, but they both knew Gavin would never find someone as faithful. Ernie had been by his side since before he made his first deal. They’d climbed out of the slums together, and Gavin owed the valet his unequivocal allegiance.
But that didn’t mean he had any intention of entertaining his question.
“None of our bloody business.” Dressing himself in the clothes Ernie had procured–all of his trunks had been pitched over the edge of the cliff–he fumbled with a white cravat, then discarded the long cloth with a grunt of disgust.
Shuffling three steps to the room’s only window, he pushed aside the thin blue cloth masquerading as a curtain and stared blindly out at the scenery below while he tried to collect his thoughts.
He needed to be thinking about his work, not his wife. Which was yet another reason he couldn’t afford to let Charlotte get too close. She was a dangerous distraction that threatened to pull him away from what mattered most.
Runaway Duchess (London Ladies Book 1) Page 13