For one fleeting, panic stricken moment she thought she was back in the carriage pinned beneath Tabitha before she remembered Gavin’s daring rescue and then… and then nothing.
Blinking several times to clear her sleep blurred vision, she did a quick study of her surroundings. She was in a small, sun filled room that boasted plain white walls, a single wash basin in one corner, and a wooden chair in the other. Recalling what Gavin had said last night about the inn, she realized she must be in one of the rooms, although she had no recollection of arriving.
Turning her head to the side, she could not quite contain the startled yelp of surprise that burst past her lips when she saw what – or, to be more accurate, who – was sprawled next to her in the narrow bed.
Gavin slept like a man dead.
It was his arm and leg that held her place, thrown haphazardly across her body as though they belonged there. His face was turned away and buried in a white pillow. From this angle she could just make out the neat line of stitches running across the cut at his temple. He must have also bathed, for his dark hair gleamed in the morning light and his skin smelled faintly of pine with a small, lingering trace of lemon.
Her nostrils flaring ever-so-slightly, Charlotte allowed her gaze to wander down the length of his naked torso, her eyes lingering on the hard lines that comprised his abdomen before curiosity led her all the way to a narrow trail of black hair… Her gaze jerked back to his face as her cheeks burned crimson. Gavin was completely nude. Gavin was completely nude lying next to her! Heavens.
At once the room felt much too warm. She reached down for the blanket that was tangled between them and attempted to pull it up and over her husband’s hips, but the edge was caught beneath him and try and she might she could not pull it free.
“Bullocks,” she cursed under her breath.
Now what?
Taking care to keep her eyes averted from area of his anatomy in particular, Charlotte began to ease herself out from underneath his arm… but with a murmur and a sigh he simply splayed his hand flat across her belly and pulled her closer to him. She rolled neatly into the crook of his body as though they were made to fit; two puzzle pieces locking together. At least she was fully clothed in a modest blue nightgown trimmed with white lace. How she had changed out of her rain soaked dress was a mystery, although she would be willing to bet quite highly it had something to do with the man currently holding her hostage.
Perhaps… Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt anything to stay like this for a while. After all, he was the one holding onto her. And he did smell so nice.
“You feel so soft,” he murmured. He turned his head and nuzzled the side of her neck, his bristle of whiskers brushing against her sensitive flesh as he burrowed his face into her sea of tangled curls. “Amanda…” he sighed.
Every muscle in Charlotte’s entire body went rigid.
Amanda?
Who the bloody hell was Amanda?!
It was bad enough he had the audacity to crawl into bed with her naked as the day he was born after he specifically said he wanted nothing to do with her! But to do that and then have the nerve to call her by another woman’s name? The man was a pig! An ill mannered, disgusting, loathsome pig.
“Get off me, you brute!” she demanded, twisting to the side while simultaneously striking out at his bare chest with both fists.
Gavin grunted and opened his eyes. He blinked and squinted before focusing on her with absolute bewilderment. “Charlotte?” he said in disbelief. “I… What are you doing here?”
She didn’t bother with a response. 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 mattress, landing hard on her feet with a muffled thump.
“Son of a… bitch,” he wheezed, glaring daggers at her. “What the hell did you do that for?”
Scurrying to the window, she crossed her arms defensively over her chest and said, “Cover yourself, please.”
“I asked you a question.”
But after being mistaken for some trollop, Charlotte was not in the mood to answer any of Gavin’s questions, and her raised eyebrow and haughtily pursed lips told him as much.
With a muffled curse hen slowly unwound his body, sat up against the wooden headboard, and dragged the blanket up to his waist. “There,” he snapped. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Where are we?”
His expression still thunderous, he growled, “You would do better to ask where my bollocks are after your knee shoved them—”
“Stop,” she said hastily. “Just answer my question. I – I did not mean to strike you in that particular area of your body.”
“The hell you didn’t.”
She frowned. “You are quite vulgar this morning.” And then, because she couldn’t quite help herself: “Maybe if your precious Amanda were here you would be in a better mood.”
Gavin was not amused. “Bloody Christ.” His gaze slid to the ceiling. “I can’t be blamed for what I say in my sleep. 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.” Combing her hair over one shoulder, she began to mindlessly untangle the snarled ringlets one at a time. “Now if you don’t mind, could you please tell me—”
“The Hare and Eagle Inn,” he interrupted. “It’s a tavern below, rooms above. Not the best of establishments, but hardly the worst. There almost full up because of the storm. We were lucky to get rooms.”
“I don’t remember coming here at all.”
He shrugged. “You were all but passed out, which is not surprising given the ordeal you suffered.” For a moment his eyes turned hard as flint and his jaw worked side to side. He appeared angry, furiously so, although where his anger was directed Charlotte hadn’t a clue. The chords in his next visibly pulsed as he attempted to control his emotions, and she wondered – not for the first time – how he could jump so easily from one mood to the next. “Your maid is fine, by the way. In case you wanted to know.”
Tabitha. In the wake of finding herself next to Gavin and his nakedness, she had completely forgotten about Tabitha. “Is she awake? Has a doctor seen her? Does she remember anything?” Charlotte pulled fretfully at the ends of her hair, twisting the auburn locks around and around her fingers. “Where is she? I should go to her.”
“She woke up briefly last night while the doctor examined her. She suffered a concussion, albeit not a serious one. He gave her some laudanum to help with the pain and ordered her to remain in bed for at least a day.”
“A day?” Charlotte said in dismay. “But that means…”
“Yes.” Gavin offered a ghost of a smile that fell far short of his eyes. “We will be staying here longer than planned. Is that a problem?”
It most certainly was a problem. A delay in their return to London meant one thing and one thing only: more time with Gavin.
When they were apart she could almost pretend she was not attracted to him. That she was not pulled to him as though by some invisible force. That she did not think of him constantly.
He had made it clear he wanted nothing from her of an intimate nature, and she was ready to give him exactly that, but she could not do so if she was tripping over him with every step she took, not to mention waking up in bed next to his naked body! Against her will her gaze darted to his exposed chest. She could not help but notice the sheet had slithered down and now rested precariously low on his narrow hips, once again revealing the dark line of hair that trailed from his belly button down to his…
“Something of interest catch your eye?”
Charlotte’s eyes darted guiltily to his face, and the amused twist of his mouth made her spine stiffen. He was laughing at her! This could absolutely not continue. “Where is Tabitha?” she repeated. “I will stay with her until we are able to leave.”
Gavin cupped his hands beh
ind his head and stretched, pushing out his ribcage and sucking in his stomach. The sheet dropped 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,” Gavin 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, only to snap her teeth together a second later with soft growl of frustration. 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.”
“I cannot… I cannot 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 disbelief. “Truly? Is that why I awoke this morning to find you next to me? Naked?”
“Would your 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 darkly as he spun her around to face him.
They squared off, two boxers ready to fight to the death, neither one willing to back down or even blink. Had he brought the sheet with him? She dared not look.
“If my being near you is so repulsive,” he snarled, his gray eyes flashing dangerously, “might I suggest you move to the floor. That is, after all, where bitches lay, is it not?”
Her hand moved before her mind fully processed what she was doing. Gavin’s head snapped 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 in her entire life 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. Brusquely rubbing the side of his face where her hand had made a red imprint beneath the scruff of dark facial hair, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed and stared down at the floor boards between his feet. “This marriage was a mistake. We are not suited for each other.” His mouth twisted. “I am not suited for you. We never should have struck a bargain.”
No, Charlotte’s mind replied instantly. No, this marriage is not a mistake.
Not knowing what else to do, she sat gingerly on the opposite edge of the mattress. “I am sorry for striking you,” she said quietly.
Gavin glanced at her sideways. “And I am sorry for calling you a bit—not a nice name,” he amended. Uncoiling from his slumped position he sighed loudly and leaned back on his hands, locking his elbows in place. “Still, 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 supposed it was a valid point. “Perhaps if we took some time to get to know each other…”
“You do not even want to share the same room with me.”
“Yes, well, to go from barely knowing you to waking up beside you was a bit of a shock,” she admitted. “After all, you were the one who said we should not be inti—”
“I bloody well know what I said,” he snapped.
Charlotte bit back a smile. “Maybe,” she ventured carefully, “we could get to know one another. In time we would even come… come to care for one another.”
But Gavin was already shaking his head. “No. No. Everyone I ever cared for is dead.” He dropped his head back to stare straight up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight and his voice oddly strained. “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 softly, as though to himself.
Her heart aching for the pain she heard in his words, pain he was so careful to keep hidden most of the time, Charlotte reached across the bed to touch his hand, but with short, bitter laugh he snatched his arm away and stood up.
In the time it took her eyes to follow him across the room his temporary display of vulnerability was gone and he was once again the cold, indifferent man she was rapidly growing accustomed to. “We will keep things as they are,” he said stiffly. “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries last night. I was exhausted, and after the doctor stitched my forehead he gave me some laudanum as well. I did not even know I was in the same bed as you until this morning. It will not happen again.”
Charlotte bit her lip and wished she knew how to draw the gentler side of him back out. “But if we are to share a room—”
“I will find another room, or sleep in the stables if I must. This will not happen again,” he repeated. “You have my word.”
She did not want his word.
She wanted the man she had glimpsed beneath the hard exterior. The one who had kissed her breathless in the study. The one who had risked his life to rescue her last night. The one she was so dangerously close to falling in love with. Still, she was not a woman without pride, and she would not lower herself to beg for that man, or this one.
“Very well,” she said, matching his indifferent tone perfectly. “If this is to become my room then I shall require privacy to bathe and dress. Are those my clothes?” she asked, nodding towards a trunk in the corner of the room.
“Yes. It was all that could be salvaged from the wreck.”
The wreck. How simple it sounded in the light of day.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
“One of the wheels became stuck in the mud and jerked the carriage to the side, snapping one of the axles. It 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. 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.” Charlotte could only imagine the chaos that would have ensued had the horses not been freed. There was little doubt in her mind they all would have tumbled into the abyss together, and she shuddered now to think of it. “And 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 before looking quickly away. “I… I am sorry, Charlotte.”
Her brow creased. “For what?”
“For putting you in such danger.”
A surprised laugh burst past her lips. “You did not know the carriage would flip! You put your own life at risk to save mine and Tabitha’s. I could not ask for more. It was an accident, Gavin. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Nothing more, nothing less.” He looked at her oddly. “Indeed. Do you require the service of a maid to help you dress?”
“No, I should be able to manage by myself.”
> “Very well. I will let them know you require a hot bath and nothing more.” He turned to go, stopping only when Charlotte called out his name. “Yes?” he said, the muscles in his shoulders tensing.
He was still nude save the blanket he had wrapped around his waist. She had been about to tease him, but hastily thought better of it. Their relationship was on tenuous enough footing as it was – perhaps it would be best if she kept their interactions polite and to the point, at least for now, and so she asked where she could find him after she had bathed and dressed instead.
“I will find you,” he said.
“Yes, but where—”
“I said I would find you.” And then he was gone, the echo of the slamming door the only indication he had ever been in the room 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 employed since childhood when his hot temper used to land him in more than one tight predicament. This time, however, the counting did not work.
When he reached ten he still thought of Charlotte. Her dewy scent invaded 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, were enough to make him hard just by memory alone.
With a long suffering groan he threaded his fingers through his hair and stepped away from her room.
She was a bloody 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? 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.
Human beings could disappoint you. They could tear the very heart from your chest and pummel it to dust beneath their boot heel. It had happened to Gavin once before, when he 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.
The Runaway Duchess Page 12