“Thank you.” She slid in front of him to take the controls. For just a moment, the tight confines pushed her pert backside into his groin.
Connor wondered if the bed in the back was big enough for someone his size, and sturdy enough for active sport.
No. He couldn’t take advantage of a woman running for her life. Hurriedly, he left to add coal to the boiler.
They passed through two more towns without incident but Connor noted watchers at the edge of each settlement. By the third, they were nearly out of coal and water for the boiler.
He went back into the driver’s compartment to talk to Belinda. “We need to stop at the next inn.”
“If they have any coal,” she said glumly. Lines of fatigue were etched into her face.
“If they don’t, we can sleep for a few hours and find somewhere in the town to sell us some coal in the morning.”
“You really think it’s safe?” She looked hopeful at the thought of a rest.
“I do.” One way or another, he wouldn’t let them have her.
“That sounds marvelous.” She eased past him to take the throttle. “Thank you.”
“After shoveling coal for a couple hours, I could do with a rest myself—and a bath.” He was covered head to toe in soot and coal dust. His clothes were unquestionably ruined.
Before he could do something silly, like touch her, he went back to the boiler and shoveled some more.
* * *
By the time they reached the Blue Raven Inn, Belinda was ready to fall over. She was amazed at Connor’s stamina, but even his strong back was beginning to stoop, as if aching from the unaccustomed labor. They’d gone maybe twenty-five miles, leaving another ten to Connor’s home. They ought to press on, but the roads were dreadful, and it wouldn’t do to get themselves killed in the dark. Belinda was far from convinced that going home with him was a good idea, but she was too tired to come up with another.
After wiping his face with his handkerchief, Connor put on his frock coat and greatcoat while she drew the wagon to a halt in the empty field beside the inn. She put on her cloak and let Connor help her down after he’d retrieved his saddlebag and the carpet bag with her clothing from the sleeping compartment.
“Once we’re settled inside, I’ll come back and tend Nick,” he said. “I’m sure someone can rustle him up some oats.” Even Lucifer was tired and nestled snugly in her arms, weighing her down until she could barely walk.
“Hullo.” Connor approached the man behind the bar. “Any rooms still available for the night?”
“Aye. Who’s askin’?” The barman at the bar gave them a careful look and then added, “Sir?”
Fortunately, Connor’s fine wool greatcoat covered his filthy shirt and trousers. “Sir Thomas Hadrian,” he said, reaching over the bar to shake the other man’s hand. “And my wife, Lady Hadrian, of course.”
Belinda smothered her own gasp with an all too real yawn. “Excuse me. The inn in the last town was full up, and we’re just too exhausted to go any farther tonight.” The idea of her ever being Lady Anything was laughable, but she couldn’t cause a scene by contradicting him in front of witnesses.
The barman looked him up and down, then finally shrugged. “All right. First room on the left at the top of the stairs.”
“Thank you.” Connor reached across the bar and shook the other man’s hand. “What do I need to pay to get a bath sent up?” Connor asked.
“No worries, there’s hot water and a hip bath in the room.” With another nod, they were dismissed and Connor stepped back to allow her to precede him up the stairs.
Inside the room, she set her cat on the bed. “Just one room?” She was supposed to share a bedroom, with one average-sized bed, with him? The bathtub and loo were simply tucked behind a screen—not even a proper door to provide privacy. Ah well, she’d endured worse back in her circus days and even those accommodations had been luxurious compared to the gaol.
He shrugged. “I told them you were my wife because your squire—not to mention the damned army—is looking for a woman on her own, not a married couple, and most definitely not a lady who’s in a ‘delicate condition,’ which is the hint I intend to drop when I go downstairs to pay the innkeeper, along with a fat bribe for keeping his mouth shut. You needn’t worry about your virtue. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
The bastard was laughing. Not out loud, but the creases beside his eyes gave him away. He thought this was funny. Damn him. She’d just lost her home, her friends, almost everything she owned.
For the first time since this whole ordeal started, Belinda broke. She struck out at him, punching him in the chest with her fists. Tears began to run down her cheeks and she gasped for breath.
He stood for a few moments and let her pummel him. Then he swore viciously and pulled her against his chest. Strong arms banded around her as she cried, soaking his coat with her tears. He rocked her gently and eased into a wooden chair, pulling her not inconsiderable weight down onto his lap, still soothing her like an injured child.
“Easy, there, blackbird. I’m not going to let them catch you.” His breath was soft against her hair. “You’re safe. Once we’re at the Tower, you can take all the time you need to deal with things and decide what you want to do next.”
“Assuming I’m not going to be executed?” She sniffed. “Find a position, I suppose. Perhaps someone can use a slightly inept housekeeper. I’m not very good at keeping things tidy.” Sniffles punctuated her sentences. “I hear there’s a market for card readers and palmists in London. Maybe I can set up a shop.” She hiccupped loudly.
“You’re exhausted, frightened and likely in shock. There’s no need to make any decisions tonight.” He kissed the top of her head, and she could have sworn she felt the stirrings of an erection through her layers of clothing.
Connor stood suddenly, lifting her away from his body and setting her down on the bed. “Now have your bath and crawl under the covers. I’ll go take care of the caravan and your mule, pay the man and then come clean up myself. Are you hungry? Should I have them send up some tea or soup?”
“No.” She was too tired to eat. “Go. I’ll try not to fall asleep and drown in the bathtub.”
“That’s my girl.” He tousled her hair as if she were a child, then, whistling, strode out of the room.
* * *
“Word came over the old teletext machine,” the barkeeper said when Connor came in from watering the mule and settling him down for the night. “Seems folks are looking for a gypsy witch and a man named MacKay.”
“MacKay, huh.” Connor kept his face impassive. “Isn’t there a family named that hereabouts?”
The barman nodded. “Old Sir William up at Kay’s Tower, near Bellston. He’s a good man. Helps out the locals, from what I understand. I’ve got a sister up that way. Lady MacKay always comes around if someone’s sick or in trouble.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. So if someone did pass through here, say with a steam wagon that’s to be a gift for Sir William, that someone might be able to count on a safe night’s sleep?” He accepted the pint the other man handed across the bar and waited for an answer.
“Aye.” The barman shrugged. “Can’t say I pay attention to names and descriptions. A man pays his money and doesn’t cause any trouble, I leave him alone. Especially with a wife who looks like she’s dead on her feet.”
“My thanks.” Connor paid for the room, the ale, and made arrangements for coal and water to be loaded at first light. Finally, he added a hefty gratuity. “The wife’s in a delicate condition and she’s really feeling the cold and damp. Any chance of an extra blanket?”
“Cupboard’s at the end of the hall, help yourself.” With that, the barman moved off to tend someone else.
Connor found the blanket cupboard and returned to their room, hoping Belinda was asleep. It wouldn’t be the first or last time Connor had slept on the floor. The blanket was a boon, as was the indoor plumbing. Even in this era of high technology,
not every country inn had bothered with such conveniences. He let himself into the room as silently as possible, not wanting to disturb Belinda’s sleep. He glanced at her, curled into a ball under the covers. She’d had one hell of a difficult day.
Despite the horrendous situation, he had to admit, he liked Belinda and had no qualms taking her back to the Tower where his family would be gathered. He couldn’t wait to see her with his sisters. Belinda might be expecting a snooty bunch of upper gentry when she reached the Tower, but that was so far from the truth it made Connor laugh. Geneva, Baroness Findlay of Torkholm, was a no-nonsense physician, and Melody, Connor’s twin, worked as a dirigible engineer for the Order. Both were graduates of Lovelace College for women in the sciences. The renowned Lady Lovelace, who had invented the machine code to operate Lord Babbage’s famous analytical engine—the machine that had changed the world—had also opened up Oxford University to females.
As he washed, he thought of Wink Hadrian, Melody’s dearest friend. Connor had considered Wink the love of his life. When she’d rejected his proposal, he’d been devastated. Now, he thought perhaps she’d been right. Maybe they were meant to be friends rather than lovers. She’d certainly never stirred him anywhere near as deeply nor as quickly as the curvy widow asleep on the other side of the screen. And he barely knew Belinda at all.
After scrubbing his skin nearly raw to remove the soot and coal, he dragged on a clean pair of smalls from his portmanteau to sleep in. Then, carrying his blanket, he crept around the dividing screen and prepared to bed down on the rug in the center of the room.
“Sir Connor?”
Shite, just hearing her say his name while she was in bed was enough to have him hard as an axe handle.
“What?” He hoped she didn’t need to be held again. He didn’t think he could stand it without either making love to her or dying. “And just call me Connor. We’re supposed to be married, after all.” Which made no sense, given that he’d shamelessly used Tom’s name instead of his own.
“Very well, Connor.” Her voice was husky, deep for a woman’s and erotic as hell. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
He dragged in a breath. “No, I’d be better off down in the tap, but I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m trying hard not to take advantage of you, Belinda.”
Her chuckle was sultry. “How about if I take advantage of you? I’ve been widowed a long time. Women—we have physical needs too, you know. We’re only human.”
“I’m well aware of that.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“Does admitting it make me an immoral woman?”
“Not by my standards. I’ve no quarrel with anyone who isn’t hurting anyone else.” He reminded himself that she was still liable to be in shock from her ordeal.
“Are you married, or promised to someone else?”
Connor shook his head, although she probably couldn’t see it. “No, I’m remarkably unattached.” And likely to stay that way for the foreseeable future, although a germ of an idea had begun to form—one he wasn’t ready to look at directly, at least not yet.
“Then come to bed with me,” she coaxed. “After everything that happened, I need to feel alive, instead of imagining the flames. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“That’s a dangerous road you’d start us down.” He had just enough grip on his sanity to remember the hazards.
“Not so dangerous,” she said on a sigh. “I’m a widow, not a virgin, and I’m barren, so there’s no risk of a child.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes it’s the man’s problem.” It was ridiculous to get into the science of things at a moment like this, but Connor’s brain wasn’t working clearly enough to filter out irrelevant thoughts. Instead, it seemed to take refuge in the minutiae. Furthermore, he discovered he didn’t like to think of her having lain with—having loved—another man. Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?
“I’m sure. My husband had a daughter with his first wife,” she replied. “I met him several years after they both died of a fever.”
“I’m sorry.” Somehow he thought that might be the right thing to say. He’d heard something about that from the squire, hadn’t he? Again, his brain wasn’t exactly in working order at the moment.
“Unless...” She paused. “I could understand if you were too tired—or if you simply didn’t want me. I am older than you, and not as pretty or lighthearted as I might once have been.”
“Oh, good lord, woman, a few years is nothing. And you’re stunning.” Had she really missed his attraction to her? “I want you so much my eyes are crossing.”
“Then come to bed.”
He wasn’t an idiot. Somewhere in the back of his brain, that plan firmed and shifted, but Connor still didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he shucked his smalls and climbed onto the bed.
A surprise greeted him. Belinda was naked too.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him farther under the covers. Their bodies fit together as if they’d been designed for each other. She was small but strong and curvaceous, not some fragile waif he’d have to worry about breaking in half. Connor was a big man, and he’d just discovered that a short, sturdy woman suited him fine.
Refusing to let her take complete control, he rolled her to her back as he kissed her, pinning her hands to the bed with his. Their lips tangled in long, drugging kisses, their tongues dueling for dominance as they explored each other’s mouths.
Finally, Connor broke the kiss, smiling as he kissed his way down to her breasts. He sent a spell winging to the candle beside the bed, sparking it to life. Belinda was beautiful with clothes on, and he wanted rather desperately to see her without them.
The dim and flickering light didn’t reveal much but skin darker than the typical British notion of beauty, yet smooth and lovely. Her breasts were bountiful and flushed, her generous nipples dark and pearled. He couldn’t wait any longer to taste them, so after swirling around each with his tongue, he drew one into his mouth.
Belinda whimpered and clutched his head closer. Connor took that as assent and suckled harder, loving the salty taste of her skin, scented with rose petals and plain soap, while one of his hands delved lower, across the slightly rounded curve of her belly to the juncture of her thighs. The crisp curls he found were delightfully wet and slick. When he slid his fingers along her crease, she bucked her hips and whimpered his name.
“So bloody beautiful,” he murmured as he switched to the other plump breast. Her responsiveness thrilled him. He eased one finger deeper, testing her readiness, and found her tight—far tighter than he would have expected for a widow. Lifting his head he said, “There’s been no one since your husband, has there?” He didn’t know why that pleased him, but it did.
“No. I’ve never wanted to take a lover before.”
Something savage and possessive began to coil in Connor’s gut. He wasn’t thinking clearly enough to label it. All he knew was he needed to see to her pleasure because once he got inside her, it would be over far too quickly.
He found the pearl of her sex and began to stroke it gently, then with a slightly firmer touch as her body told him with moans and small movements, exactly where and how she liked to be petted. In just moments, her hands fisted in the sheets and she cried out his name as her body convulsed. He continued to kiss her breasts, to stroke her sex, until she’d almost calmed. Then he moved over her and once again plundered her lips.
Meanwhile, he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly pushed his way in, feeling the little ripples of her climax fluttering around him. Nothing, nothing, had ever felt this good.
He stayed still for a moment, deep inside her core, feeling her damp heat surround him. She was tight, which he’d expected since she’d been celibate for years, but he had anticipated just how amazing that would feel to him. Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders and that warm embrace seemed to go all the way to his soul. He began to move, slowly at first, then faster as she met each stroke and
encouraged him with her fingers digging into his back and her lips dancing with his.
After just a few thrusts, her head fell back, and she moaned, “Yes.” Her legs twined around his hips, and her entire body contracted in a sharp spasm as she peaked again.
Her muscles clamping down on his erection finished Connor. He shouted her name as he buried himself deep against her womb. The climax that ripped through him was like nothing he’d ever known grabbing his emotions as well as his ballocks. His body poured itself into her over and over again, until he wasn’t sure there was any life left in him at all.
“Holy hell,” he murmured into her hair, long moments later, when he could speak at all. “You’re an amazing woman, Belinda.”
Her chuckle was a bit breathless, but deep and sweet. “I’ve never been quite like that before. Somehow you make me lose all my inhibitions. Thank you.”
“I’m honored.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “And you’ve got that backward. It’s I who should thank you.” Connor knew there were things they needed to talk about. Important things, including that plan of his. Right now his eyes refused to stay open. He barely remembered to roll to the side so he didn’t crush Belinda as they slept. He did gather her close, as if he never intended to let her go.
Chapter Four
Belinda woke with the warmth of a man behind her back and instinctively snuggled into the heat. A strong arm tightened around her waist, and lips feathered against the back of her neck. Connor. Odd, how even in her sleep, she’d known exactly who it was.
“Good morning.” His big hands caressed and soothed her bare skin and his lips shaped the curve of her ear. “I wish we had time to linger and get even better acquainted, but we really ought to be going.”
“I know.” The events of the last few days slammed into her like a runaway horse. She shivered and rolled to bury her face in his chest, feeling the crisp curling hairs against her cheek. The scent of him aroused her all over again, but this time she didn’t give in. After a moment to compose herself, she pulled away to sit up, the covers clutched up above her breasts.
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