“That is not the point, Miss Compton.”
She frowned. “Are we reverting back to formality now?”
“I think it might be best.”
“Because I suggested we share the bed?”
His nostrils flared and his fingers curled inward, balling into a pair of fists. “Yes.”
Leonora held his gaze before turning away with a shrug. “Suit yourself then, but don’t complain in the morning when your limbs are too stiff and achy to move.”
He responded with a snort which she decided to ignore. He was just trying to be considerate, even though she felt he was being entirely too stubborn about the whole thing. Not to mention... She grabbed her valise and placed it on the bed so she could open it. A part of her wanted him close. Tomorrow when they reached Sheffield, they’d go their separate ways and possibly never meet again. Was it so terrible of her to want to sleep with his arm around her once more, to hope he might show her what kissing was like?
Frustrated, she searched for her comb and her toothbrush and powder. Locating all the items, she turned to determine where best to use them and saw that Philip was now crouched in front of the fireplace, where embers were starting to catch on a piece of wood. A flame grew and then another, dancing lithely against the bricks behind them.
Leonora paused to watch, liking the domestic element about him. For a man with a fortune, he had a remarkable way of being ordinary.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “The room should warm up in no time now. It will make it easier for you to get ready for bed.”
Her comfort, first and foremost.
Deciding not to argue, she thanked him instead, sat down on the edge of the bed, and started unpinning her hair. One lock fell down her back, followed swiftly by another and then by a third as the pins came loose. She shook her head slightly and reached for her comb, clasping it just as she heard Philip suck in a breath.
She glanced toward him and stilled. He’d risen without her realizing and was presently staring straight at her as if in a daze. Slowly, he placed one foot in front of the other, moving toward her like a man entranced by what he was seeing.
“You are...” He arrived by her side and reached out his hand, allowing his fingers to slide through her hair.
Leonora held her breath and simply waited to see what came next. Her heart beat rapidly against her breast while tiny sparks of awareness played across her skin. Yes. Please. Touch my hair more. Touch me. Kiss me.
He shook his head and took a step back, his expression wrought with a mixture of longing and pain. “I’ll give you some privacy so you can prepare for bed. There’s water over there on the table if you need it.” And then he strode to the door, grabbed his greatcoat and flung it over his shoulders as he rushed from the room.
Leonora’s heart sank. He would resist her as was proper, for which she ought to thank him. Instead, against all odds, she wanted him to do the opposite, which could not possibly speak well of her character. Apparently she was not the straight-laced plant enthusiast everyone thought her to be, but rather a woman with a newfound interest that beckoned to be explored.
But would you be willing to give him your virtue? If that is the price to pay, can you do it?
Probably not.
No.
Not probably.
Definitely.
Definitely not, that is.
She would only allow her true husband to bed her, which meant she would have to wait a really long time, perhaps even forever.
WHEN PHILIP RETURNED upstairs to their room after taking a brisk walk outside, the oil lamp was dimmed and Leonora was tucked into bed. He closed the door quietly behind him before casting a look in her direction. She was turned on her side with her arm flung over the coverlet, allowing him a glimpse of bare arm and shoulder until it was interrupted by the strap of her chemise.
Emitting a groan, Philip took off his greatcoat and crossed to the chair. Temptation would likely drive him mad and possibly even kill him before the sun rose again. He sat and began removing his boots while cursing himself for allowing this situation to arise in the first place.
Earlier, when he’d seen her hair, the need to touch it, to feel it slide over his skin, had assailed him more fiercely than any need ever before. It had robbed him of logical reasoning and drawn him toward her, like a helpless sailor toward a siren. His only course of action had been to flee. It had been either that or ravish her until she forgot her own name.
But now, seeing her there in the bed with her stunning red hair fanned out on the pillow...
He scrubbed one hand across his face and prayed for strength. It had been at least a year since he’d last had a woman, and that had been an unpleasant experience with an opera singer whose ego surpassed the span of the Atlantic Ocean. Since then he’d been too busy, preoccupied by work and unwilling to repeat his last disastrous round of lovemaking.
Until Leonora Compton walked into his life with equal parts personality and beauty. He’d never wanted a woman more. Hell, he could scarcely think straight or find a comfortable position for himself without the ache of his need exerting a strain on each cell in his body. She was everything he wanted, everything he’d once dreamed of having with Claire. But he’d been young and foolish back then, and she, so eager for him he could scarcely believe his good fortune.
But then came their wedding night, and Philip began to suspect he might not be Claire’s first, second, or even third lover. Her experience had been far too telling, and when he finally chose to confront her, her answer was worse than what he had feared. The names of the men who’d had her had spilled from her lips with little effort, her taunts and insults in the face of his accusation spearing him to his soul.
He’d thought himself in love. Instead he’d been thoroughly used.
“You were just a means to an end. A way for me to save my reputation.”
Her words had stayed with him ever since. In the end, he’d been the one humiliated, the one who’d unwittingly married a woman who’d continued to flaunt her lust for other men while everyone laughed. Not at her, but at him, the poor boy deceived by illusion.
Philip stretched out his legs and stared into the fire. He would never marry again, and he would most definitely not make another man suffer the way he once had, which meant he would have to keep his hands to himself where Leonora was concerned. When she eventually went to her real husband on her wedding night, she would do so with her innocence completely intact. And if she didn’t, then he would not be the one to blame.
But this course of action was tested to the full extent of Philip’s restraint when a rustling sound made him stir. He was still half asleep when he opened his eyes and saw her standing near the fire with her back toward him. Philip’s pulse leapt, not because she was there, but because the glow from the flames allowed him to see so much more than he was supposed to. It turned her chemise into a translucent veil, offering him a view of pale skin curving down over her waist to her impeccably rounded bottom and legs that appeared to go on forever.
Jesus.
He hissed out a breath between his teeth and clutched at the armrests. Why was she there instead of in bed? “Leonora?” He had to inform her that he was awake. It would be wrong of him not to.
She flinched and spun toward him, which only made matters worse, because now he was able to see...everything. “Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked her gruffly.
“I was thirsty, so I came to get some water.”
It was then that he noted the jug in her one hand and the glass in the other. “I see.” And by god did he ever, from a pair of shapely breasts that would fit quite perfectly in his hands, to the way her belly curved down toward that secret place between her thighs.
Without even thinking, he flexed his fingers.
Stay.
Don’t even think about trying to touch her right now.
“I should probably go back to bed.” She hesitated briefly. “You’re still welcome to come lie down next to me
if you like. If that would make you more comfortable.”
By all that is holy...
“I don’t think so,” was all he could manage to say.
She nodded, hesitated some more while every muscle inside him screamed for something he wasn’t willing to allow. Until she moved out of sight, blending in with the darkness, and allowed him to relax as much as a man could relax when he was fully aroused with no chance of release.
He muttered an oath.
“What was that?” she asked from the bed.
“I said, good night,” he grumbled.
“Good night to you too,” she replied.
Christ and all his apostles, this woman would put him in Bedlam if he wasn’t careful. So as much as he knew he’d regret parting ways with her soon, he had to acknowledge that they could not arrive in Sheffield fast enough. It was now a matter of preserving his health.
Chapter Three
WHEN LEONORA WOKE IN the morning, she found Philip gone. He’d left a note for her on the bedside table though, informing her to meet him downstairs as soon as she was ready. She glanced at the pendant watch she’d placed on the bedside table for the night. Good heavens! It was almost eight o’ clock. She never slept this late.
After leaping out of bed, she dressed with haste, did up her hair in a quick chignon and hurried downstairs.
“How long do I have for breakfast?” she asked Philip when she happened upon him in the foyer.
“About half an hour. I was actually coming to wake you.” He smiled, his dark eyes warm in the light of day. “Our fellow passengers from yesterday have already gone. They took an earlier coach that departed at five.”
That was the one she’d meant to take. Instead, she’d slept and now her sister would probably wonder where she was when she failed to show up at six o’clock that evening. It would most likely be closer to nine before she arrived.
Accepting there was little for her to do about that at this point, she accompanied Philip into the dining room where he ordered some eggs, ham, and toast, along with a hot pot of tea.
“We no longer need to play pretend,” Leonora said once her food had arrived and she’d taken a couple of bites. The reality of this had settled like a brick in her belly ever since he’d told her that those who thought they were married had gone. When she and Philip continued on their journey, it would be with a new group of passengers.
“I know.” He almost sounded regretful, but surely that wasn’t possible, not after he’d adamantly refused further intimacy with her last night.
“I should go fetch my things,” she said after finishing the rest of her breakfast in silence.
“I’ll help,” he offered.
They returned upstairs to collect their luggage, and Leonora hoped briefly that maybe, just maybe, he’d tell her they ought to continue their farce. But of course he didn’t. Why would he? They were practically strangers, after all, and she was being far too fanciful for her own good if she imagined he’d want a real romantic attachment with her on the basis of a single day’s acquaintance.
And yet she could not deny the emptiness inside or the curious longing she had for the touch of his hand. She wanted him to wrap his arm around her shoulders as he’d done yesterday and hold her close to his side. She wanted to bask in his warmth, savor his strength, inhale his scent and...
It was a hopeless dream, a ridiculous one if she were honest with herself. Philip Dalton was a successful businessman. What use could he possibly have for a woman who was struggling simply to pay her rent and avoid eviction? He was everything she aspired to be while she would just be a millstone around his neck.
“Are you ready?” he asked, waiting for her by the door.
She gave him an absent nod. “Yes.” It was a lie of course, but to ask him for more than he’d already offered, to risk spending the next twelve hours with a man who told her he’d only intended to offer protection, nothing more, wasn’t something she wished to endure.
At least this way she could let herself think that if things had been different, if they’d met in some other way, gotten to know each other better...that maybe then they might have had a chance of something more. So she followed him back downstairs and out into the courtyard. Her legs were numb, not from the cold but from heartache. How was that even possible? There had to be something wrong with her. To like a man so much after knowing him so briefly, to physically need him in a way that made her soul hurt with longing, was madness.
But what could not be denied was the spark that ignited the moment he took her hand to help her up into the coach. She sucked in a breath and instinctively turned her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were shadowed by the dim morning light protruding beneath a grey cover of clouds, but there was interest there, an awareness humming between them.
Say something.
Please.
Tell me that this, whatever this is, isn’t over.
He placed his hand at her back, and his fingers curled briefly into her flesh before pushing against her to nudge her inside. She stepped forward, away from his touch, and sat down next to the window. When he climbed in after her, he took the opposite bench, officially confirming that yesterday’s experience would not be repeated.
Leonora turned to look out the window while the rest of the passengers boarded. She continued to do so while the carriage took off and until she was ready to take a nap since it saved her from having to look at Philip. Wanting him was something that needed to stop. She had to distract herself somehow with other things, so that was precisely what she did until they arrived in Sheffield.
Darkness had settled across the landscape by the time they rolled into the Black Raven’s courtyard a few minutes after nine. Leonora was the last to disembark, and when she reached the door, Philip was there to help her down.
She glanced at his hand. “Thank you, but I believe I can manage.”
“Leonora...”
Was that pain in his voice? “It’s all right. I am all right.” But if she touched him again she feared she might never recover. “Please.”
He lowered his hand and took a step back allowing her to climb down on her own.
“I have your valise,” he said, gesturing toward the piece of luggage sitting next to his own on the ground. “Are you expecting someone to come and meet you?”
His question made her realize how little they really knew about each other. They hadn’t even discussed where they were going, who they intended to visit, what their plans were for the future...
“I’m here to see my sister, but she expected me to arrive at six, so I doubt—”
“Miss Compton?” A broad-shouldered man with tufts of gray hair showing beneath the brim of his hat approached them. He shifted his gaze to Philip. “You wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Dalton by any chance?”
“Indeed I am.”
The man smiled. “Excellent.” He tipped his hat. “I’m Mr. Vance.”
“Then you must be here to collect me.” Philip glanced at Leonora and paused as if just now realizing that Mr. Vance had inquired if she was Miss Compton.
Leonora frowned. Collect him? She shook her head. “Are you heading toward the Lockwood estate, Mr. Dalton?”
He nodded. “I am indeed and from what I now gather, so are you.”
“Lady Lockwood is my sister. I’m here to spend Christmas with her and her husband.”
“The viscount is a longtime friend of mine,” Philip said. His voice was thoughtful, almost puzzled.
Leonora turned to Mr. Vance. “How did you know when to expect us?”
“I didn’t, but when you weren’t on the five o’clock coach, I decided to check the next one.” He rubbed his hands together. “Shall we be off? It’s not getting any warmer, but I do have a couple of hot bricks waiting for you in the carriage. He pointed to their valises. “Are these yours?”
“Yes.” Philip shook his head as if trying to dislodge an impediment to logical reasoning. “Allow me to help.”
Leonora followe
d the two men while wondering over the coincidence. What was the chance of her and Philip embarking on a pretend marriage together only to discover they were destined for the same place? Part of her wanted to celebrate while another wanted to scream. If this meant spending two weeks with a man who made her pulse leap every time he looked her way, she wasn’t sure how she would cope. Especially, since he’d made it clear that he would not be pursuing an attachment with her.
She climbed inside the carriage and settled herself in the far corner while the men placed the luggage in the boot. When Philip boarded, he sat down diagonally across from her, near the door.
“This is rather surprising,” he said several minutes into their onward journey to Lockwood Manor.
“I suppose it is.” Would he have refrained from saying she was his wife if he’d known they’d be spending...how long together? “Will your stay be an extended one?”
“I was planning to stay until after Christmas.”
“But now you’re having second thoughts?” Wonderful! Not only did he want nothing to do with her any more, but he wanted to be as far from her as possible.
“It’s not you, it’s—”
“Please stop.” If he said that he was to blame and that she deserved better or some such nonsense, she believed she might hit him with her reticule.
“It is just—”
“Whatever your reasons, I prefer that you do not share them with me at this moment.”
“Very well.” Silence fell between them, allowing her to focus on the soft clopping of hooves and the occasional squeaking of springs. Until, “You never did tell me what Mr. Becker did to incur your displeasure.”
Leonora sighed. If they were to avoid ruining the holidays for her family, they would have to find a way to converse with each other, and this subject was at least one that would redirect her focus and her emotions away from Philip. “He owns the building I am renting on Bond Street.”
“You never mentioned it when we spoke of the Gentleman’s Emporium being there.”
She shrugged. “It had little to do with the subject we were discussing at the time and...” Inhaling deeply, she pulled the blanket across her lap a bit tighter and shifted her feet on the hot brick for added warmth. “Anyway, he only just acquired it, so he came to inform me yesterday morning that he plans on doubling the rent.”
Miss Compton's Christmas Romance Page 4