James laughed and took the stairs two at a time. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her, kissing her despite Mary, their maid, standing there. Rose didn’t care and kissed him back. She sighed against his lips and wound her arms around his neck.
Pulling back, Rose looked over her shoulder at poor Mary. The girl kept her attention on the piles and piles of slippers, not her employers. Then again, by now she was no doubt used to their rather passionate displays.
“Would you truly add a room just for slippers?” Mary wondered.
Rose didn’t think she meant them to hear but grinned anyway. She’d never been so happy.
“Of course,” James said as if it were a foregone conclusion.
Eyes wide, Mary opened her mouth then snapped it closed. Slowly she nodded. “Of course,” she repeated dutifully.
“I’ve already purchased this lovely cottage so my dear Mrs. Hamilton”—he lifted her hand and kissed her inner wrist—“may return whenever she wishes for the best cobblers in three counties.”
Rose laughed again. The lightness in her heart sent a flutter through her, and she wondered if this bubble of sheer joy would ever end. She never wanted it to, and with the way James acted here, in Kingsnorth, she thought it might not.
A small part of her remained cautious, however. Watching and waiting to see what happened once they returned to London. But Rose felt so loved and so confident in their love, she was ready for anything—her duties as Mrs. Hamilton, as friends to nobility, even as confidant to James’s business ideas.
“Mary, that will be all for now.” Rose nodded. “Enjoy an early luncheon with Cook. We’ll have a tray later.”
Her gaze drifted to James when she said that. She watched his eyes darken and his lips curve in a slow smile that sent shivers through her. It was not yet noon, but she didn’t care.
Mary hastily bobbed a curtsey and left, closing the door behind her. Rose ignored that; it was far from the first time the poor girl quickly left the room she and James occupied.
James, still holding her hand, kissed her wrist again. “I don’t think we fooled any of our servants.”
“No,” Rose agreed. She ran her fingers down his cheek, across his lips. “Not after a month with us.”
A month of arguments and making up. Of afternoon sex and all-too-public kissing. If Mary and Cook managed to survive them, Rose was positive they’d make excellent additions to any household.
“Mary asked why we chose Kingsnorth to honeymoon,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. James hummed appreciatively.
He closed his eyes and chuckled. “For the slippers.” He opened his eyes and watched her, his hand tangling in her hair, warm fingers stroking the nape of her neck. “What did you really tell her?”
“That I wanted a quiet place with my husband,” she admitted.
His smile relaxed and he leaned forward to kiss her. It was slow and soft, the gentlest of kisses that wound through her. Rose sighed against his mouth and caught his hands. Walking backward, she led him to the bed.
His hands slipped down her back, a jolt of pleasure sparking along her nerves despite the gown between her and his touch. Rose turned slightly and pushed him onto the bed. James caught her waist and dragged her with him until his back hit the headboard.
Rose quickly undid his trousers, tugging them down even as his fingers slid beneath her gown. His hands were warm on her skin as they trailed, feather light, up her inner thigh. His fingers found her, and Rose shuddered. Already wet, she rocked against his touch, her own fingers stroking his cock.
She watched him as she moved. The intent focus of his gaze, the single-minded way he touched her. His thumb pressed against her sex and she shuddered, moving faster now. Suddenly her orgasm broke over her and Rose cried out, riding his fingers, reveling in his touch as she came.
Breathing hard, she opened her eyes, still rocking against James’s touch. Her fingers tingled and her body shivered, and she was stunned to realize she was already close again.
“James,” she said with a curl of her lips. She wanted to tease him about how he corrupted her, but found herself guiding him into her instead. “Oh,” she breathed as she sank over him.
Adjusting her position, Rose bunched her skirts around her hips and moved. James thrust into her, hard and steady. She watched him, her body already coiling tight. In the last month, she learned him well. Knew how long to tease him and when he was close.
They barely started and already she sensed him closer. Her smile widened even as her own fingers found her nub and circled the slippery bundle.
“Rose.” He ground out through his clenched jaw. His gaze jumped from hers to her fingers, even as his own fingers clenched on her hips.
Rose only smiled wider. “Yes, my love?”
But then he thrust hard into her and she came, her fingers pressing hard to her nub, her other hand steadying herself on James’s chest.
He rolled them quickly, catching her legs and lifting them to his shoulders. Her skirts fell around her and Rose batted them away, her orgasm still rushing hot pleasure through her. James pounded into her and she cried out, her hips meeting his and her back arched with each thrust.
Just as the rush of orgasm hit her, James stilled as he, too, came. Rose held him tight, her legs trembling, and she wanted to feel his weight against her, but she could only dig her heels into his back as he slowly softened within her.
She gasped for breath, her legs falling from his shoulders and arms useless at her sides. James rolled next to her, his arm automatically gathering her to his side. Snuggling into his embrace, she kicked her legs free from her now-hopelessly tangled skirts and threw a leg over his, holding him close.
Eventually she moved. Just enough to press a kiss into his neck. “I’ll miss Kingsnorth.” Rose sighed. “We’ve found each other here.”
James lifted his head and looked at her. She met his gaze straight on and waited for him to garner her meaning. But he nodded and resumed his position. His fingers continued stroking the side of her neck, along her shoulder, and back again.
“I never thought a honeymoon in such a quaint village was in my future,” he admitted. “But it was the best thing,” he said softly. “The best of everything I might’ve wished for.”
Rose smiled, all the love she had for this man choking her. She leaned up and kissed him softly then sighed, contented.
“Even without the duke’s wine,” James added.
Rose laughed and pinched his belly. He laughed with her and caught her hand. Kissed her fingers and twined them with his.
“James, promise me.” She stopped and once more watched him carefully. “Promise me it won’t change between us.” Rose licked her lips and let out her breath in a whoosh. “Promise me you won’t turn into that fearful man I ran from.”
“Rose,” he whispered so softly she nearly missed the word. He kissed her knuckles and tightened his grip on her hand. “I never want you to run from me again.”
“Yes, James.” She nodded then hardened her gaze. “But you do understand, I will see my father. I will, sometimes, be in his presence.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. He nodded but remained silent.
“But I do promise you,” Rose continued, “I’ll take great care.”
He kissed her forehead, and she heard the faint sigh against her skin. “That’s all I can ask for.”
They resumed their position, Rose’s head on his chest, her hand over his heart. “It’ll be quite interesting, our return to London. I’m quite certain, for the first time in our relationship, Digby will be cross with me.”
“You did send a note round to the house, did you not?” Rose asked and closed her eyes. “Telling everyone we were together?”
“I did,” he agreed. “But I’m still not certain I said where we were.” She heard the frown in his voice and restrained a giggle. “No matter,” James said in a flippant tone. “Digby would’ve handled all in my absence.”
<
br /> “James, you do realize Digby is far more than a footman,” she admonished.
James snorted. “If I call him anything else, his head will grow two sizes and there’ll simply be no living with the man.”
Rose chuckled again, so unbelievably happy and content, she never wanted to move. But she was starving. And they truly did need to leave. Their lease was up—but then again, James had bought the cottage. Still, they needed to return, she supposed.
“Let’s eat, I’m quite famished.” She didn’t move, however. “And we do need to embark on our journey back to London.”
* * * *
IT WAS EVENING once they arrived back in London. The carriage ride had been uneventful, and Rose dozed on James’s shoulder. Now, as the footman handed her from the carriage, she smiled up at her husband, ready to start their new life together.
The instant they entered the townhouse, the noise of constant activity slammed into her. Rose sighed. Really, she should’ve been prepared for it. This was not the Kingsnorth cottage they’d grown used to the last month.
No, they were now in London, with invitations and business, with callers and friends looking for them. Rose took a deep breath and felt James squeeze her waist in understanding, and leaped into the fray.
Rose nodded to Barrett as he held an overflowing tray of missives to James. James flipped through them and scowled. She ignored her own pile. Her first minutes back were not the time.
“It seems I need to drag my poor carcass to the club and discuss several matters with the gentlemen there.” He scowled at the papers again then grinned to her. “I’ve been missed.”
She smiled and just barely resisted leaning over to kiss him. She’d grown so used to freely touching him—kissing him—in Kingsnorth, she forgot London was not as secluded. Nor their servants as understanding as Mary and Cook.
“You do that, James,” she said and gave in. Rose leaned up and kissed him, uncaring of the shocked gazes of the servants milling around. “I”—she pulled back—“am going to find a place for my new slippers.”
James threw his head back and roared with laughter. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. She grinned into the kiss, winding her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair.
With a final peck on her lips, he set her down, bowed cheekily to her, and left. Rose grinned and watched him leave. She turned to the now silent servants. Raising her eyebrow, Rose swept her gaze over them and shrugged.
Walking up the stairs, Rose ignored the stares on her back and headed for her rooms.
“Shaw,” she said to her lady’s maid, “I’ve brought you something from Kingsnorth.”
Rose waited for the footmen to bring in the new trunk then unlocked it. Her slippers, neatly packed by Mary, sat displayed in a variety of colors and fabrics. Pulling out the blue ones, Rose handed them to Shaw.
“Thank you, my lady.” Shaw gaped for a moment, her fingers barely touching the fine slippers. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Hamilton. They’re lovely.” She smiled shakily then peered into the trunk. “I see you enjoyed the company of a cobbler…very much.”
Rose only laughed. She felt light and wonderful, and despite the darkening sky, the mound of mail awaiting her, and the fact James had left so quickly, she didn’t care. Happiness bubbled inside her, and she didn’t wish to tamp it down one bit.
“If I might have a word, Mrs. Hamilton,” Mrs. Shelley said from the doorway.
Rose looked up but nodded to the housekeeper. Shaw bobbed quickly and left, still clutching her slippers. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Hamilton,” the other woman said slowly, “there’ve been a number of missives from your father’s household.”
Rose stiffened, her happiness dimming. It was her first hours back. Was she not allowed happiness for even a single day in London? They should’ve stayed in Kingsnorth.
“Some,” the housekeeper continued, “personally delivered from the Kendrick housekeeper who urgently searched for you. There’s this one note from your father.” She pulled the note from her pocket and held it out. “He’s sent a servant round here on a daily basis.”
I need to see you. Now.
That was all the note said. Rose sighed and refolded it. Swallowing her annoyance, Rose nodded. Best to get it out of the way now. It was, after all, inevitable Robert called for her. Plus, it would show her how James reacted to a short visit with her father.
Yes, best to get this visit out of the way.
“I’ll see my father now,” she said coolly. “Please inform Mr. Hamilton of my whereabouts as soon as he returns.”
Mrs. Shelly looked shocked—and a little nervous—but nodded nonetheless.
“I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”
Rose didn’t bother to change from her traveling clothes. She simply waited for the footmen to finish unloading the carriage before ordering poor Wilson, the driver, to Robert’s home. She truly did need to make it up to him, though at the moment Rose was at a loss as to how.
Right then, her father consumed her thoughts—and James’s reaction to her seeing Robert immediately upon their return. Nerves knotted in her belly, and she chewed her lip as the carriage made its ponderous way toward the other side of town.
The ride was over all too quickly, long before she was prepared to see Robert.
“Wait for me,” she said to Wilson. She looked up at him and offered a small smile. “I promise I shan’t run. I’m here to visit my father and no more.”
Wilson, looking relieved, tipped his hat and nodded.
Rose walked up the short path to the door. The nerves in her belly had not eased; in fact, they had only tightened further. She dreaded entering her childhood home with each step and seriously considered leaving. Calling on Robert another day. Any other day.
Coldness seeped into her bones; her fingers went numb on her reticule, and her feet refused to move. Her heart pounded, a roar in her ears that eclipsed all else. Rose struggled to breathe, to slow her heart and take in a deep breath.
No. This was ridiculous. Her reaction was part of James’s oddities. His reaction, his feelings on her visiting her father affected her. No more.
Despite that, her feet dragged on the stones, and her fingers trembled as she knocked. The door opened, and Rose stepped confidently inside the foyer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
RELUCTANT THOUGH SHE was, Rose nonetheless removed her light wrap and gloves and handed them to the butler. She dismissed the strange feeling she had on the step and smiled at the man.
She could not, however, forget it. Her stomach still churned and her heart beat too fast. Clearing her throat, she offered a slight smile. “Where’s Father?”
“In his study, miss.” He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hamilton,” he corrected. Then the butler stilled and lowered his voice. “He’s in a foul mood.” Looking over his shoulder he added, “I’ve been sent on errands; if you need anything, Sally’s in the kitchens.”
Rose nodded and smiled more genuinely. “Thank you,” she said both in acknowledgement and gratefulness for the warning, and turned for the study.
The door was open and despite the silence, it was not an easy quiet. The anger and tension coming from the room hit her squarely in the chest as Rose stepped through. She hadn’t noticed it when she entered, but the entire household vibrated with this odd tension.
Frowning, she looked around but saw nothing out of place, nothing amiss. Rose cautiously took another step inside, her eyes on her father.
With his head bowed, Robert’s fingers gripped his hair. His every muscle looked taut and ready; though he simply sat behind his desk he seemed the picture of a defeated man. Rose stilled and stared. Drawing herself up, she waited, but Robert didn’t look at her.
“Father.”
Each movement slow and measured, he dropped his hands and finally lifted his head to look at her. His face was a mask of anger. No, nothing so simple as that—he wasn’t angry at a worker or a higher price for materials. This wa
s rage, furious rage.
“Rose,” he spat.
The sound of his voice, the tone made her jump. Rose blinked and suddenly she no longer stood in Robert’s study. She slipped into another waking dream yet it felt so real.
Rose stood outdoors. The crisp wind felt good on her face, fresh and free. Confused, she looked around at the flat, dead fields, the mountain in the distance. The scent she couldn’t quite place but knew anyway.
Turning in a circle, Rose knew what she’d see before she spotted the English camp. Their redcoats burned brightly in the gray day as they wandered between tents and fire, stood by wagons.
She turned just slightly to the right, and James stood there. He’d always stood there, and now she realized he held her hand. His fingers, warm despite the day, were tight around hers. The love in his gaze was unmistakable as he watched her, but the concern and trepidation bordering on fear caught her.
“Don’t tell him,” he insisted. “Don’t tell him. He’ll forbid you from leaving with me.”
Rose blinked and felt herself nod. “My father,” she heard herself say, not in the voice she was familiar with but in Scottish tones, “I cannae just vanish. I cannae just leave him a note.” Her head shook. “I must face him and tell him. When it’s done, I’ll meet you by the crag.”
Once more she felt herself nod, this time toward the rocky face of the mountain.
“I should be with you,” James insisted. His voice hardened with worry then determination.
“No!” Once more her head shook. “That would be the worst thing. He’d kill you. But I owe him the respect of telling him myself.” She turned fully and cupped his face, the stubble on his cheek, the warm skin of her beloved. “Please do nae come to the castle. I will meet you. I promise.”
James nodded and kissed her. His lips felt like her James’s, and she opened her mouth to his kiss.
Rose blinked and breathed deeply; the air was no longer the fresh, clean mountains, but stale and warm. This air held whisky and filth, old food forgotten in the corner and unwashed bodies.
She once more found herself in Robert’s study.
Improper Wedding: Scandalous Encounters Page 18