by Gill, Tamara
Of how he’d ravish those full lips, kiss her neck and suckle upon breasts that would haunt his dreams from this night onward.
She sat in the chair across from him and unable to deny himself, he took his fill, from her bare feet to her delectable lips.
“Are you sure you wish to sleep on the floor? You are paying for the room. I feel bad for you having to sleep so rough.”
At the mention of his bed that will be on the floor, a knock sounded on the door. Finn bade them enter and stood when a young manservant carried in a mattress, a maid following on his heels with linens and blankets.
“Here you are, sir,” the maid said, helping the young man set up the bed before the hearth. Finn and Evie stood aside and watched as they quickly set the bed up on the floor. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“No, that will be all. Thank you.” He followed them to the door and threw the bolt across as their footsteps echoed down the hall.
Evie stared at his bed a moment before meeting his gaze. “Well, if you’re sure then. Goodnight, Finn.”
“Goodnight, Evie.”
He didn’t watch as she settled under the blankets or look to see when she fell asleep and rolled onto her back. At the sound of even, deep breaths, he took her in, a smile quirking his lips as he noticed that she slept in the center of the bed, one of her arms laying out to the side and taking up most of the spare room.
Finn sat for several more hours before the fire, watching as the wood turned to ash. He stoked it high for the night, before settling himself into his makeshift bed. Surprisingly it was warmer than he thought it would be, and yet sleep eluded him. The soft exhales coming from the other side of the room made him crave things he should not want, and it wasn’t to be borne.
He was in hell.
* * *
Sometime in the middle of the night, Evie shivered awake. She sat up, groping to find her blankets that she had kicked off and that lay heaped at the end of the bed. The room was dark, save for the few slivers of moonlight that came in through the closed curtains.
She glanced toward where the duke slept, a mound before the fire that glowed with hot coals but no wood. Evie slipped out of bed, making her way carefully over to the fire. She picked up one of the coarse logs that were stacked neatly at one side and threw it on, the wood added to the hot coals sizzled and spat a moment before it caught alight and delightful heat chased the chill away.
Checking that the fire grate was in place, she tiptoed past the duke. For a time, she would sit in the chair and warm herself before returning to bed. There was a draft in the room and one that had chilled her to her bones.
Her foot caught on his mattress, and she tumbled, unable to right herself. Evie came down hard onto the duke, buffeting her fall with her hands as much as she could, even so, the feel of his solid, naked chest against her palms made her body burn. “I’m so sorry, Finn.”
“What on earth are you doing?” he said, his words slurred with sleep.
She cringed, could just imagine what he was thinking. That she was throwing herself at him, quite literally. It was bad enough that she’d had thoughts to do precisely that, nevertheless doing so without his approval. “I was stoking the fire, and I tripped on your bedding. I do apologize.”
His hands came around to settle on her waist, and he lifted her off him, setting her to one side of his bed. “Are you well? Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”
Only her pride. He probably thought she’d fallen on him on purpose to make him manhandle her. Heat bloomed on her cheeks, and she was thankful that the room was filled with shadows so he could not see her embarrassment. “I am well. I do apologize,” she stammered, moving toward the side of the bed to go back to her own.
“Wait.” His arms ran over hers, warming her more than any fire would. Evie stilled, biting back a sigh of pleasure at his touch. “Your skin is as cold as ice.”
His statement pulled her from her thoughts. “That’s why I came over to the fire. I was going to warm myself in a chair for a time.”
He pushed down his blankets and patted the space beside him. “Come, lie by me. I’ll keep you warm. No one will know, and no harm will come to your reputation. I promise you that.”
She stared at the space beside him with longing. She would like nothing more than to be near the duke and all his sweet handsomeness, but she could not. To lie beside him was a temptation she did not think she could deny herself.
“I shouldn’t.” She hesitated, her voice breathless. There was no hope for her. Whenever she was around him, she acted like a silly little fool who was experiencing her first turn about a ballroom floor with a man.
“But you will.” He clasped her hand, pulling her down to lie beside him before righting the blankets to cover them both. His arm sneaked out about her waist, and he hoisted her up against his chest.
Evie stared into the darkness of the room, his chest a solid length of muscle against her back. Comforting warmth seeped into her chilled veins, and she could feel her eyes grow heavy with sleep even though her body thrummed with need.
She wiggled, getting comfortable, and his grip tightened. “Be still.” His breath tickled her neck, and she bit her lip, tempted to wiggle some more to see what the duke would do.
“Sorry, I was trying to get comfortable.” Evie fell to sleep with a grin on her lips.
Evie woke with a sense of contentment. Sometime during the night, she’d turned in the bed and was now draped over the duke. Her head lay nestled on his shoulder, her leg laying over one of his and her arm slumped across his chest where she could feel the steady beat of his heart.
She should move, slip out of bed, and dress, and yet she could not. She didn’t want to. To lie in a man’s arms, held tight against him in sleep was a delicious experience that she’d never had before. It was new and kind of lovely. Who would not like such a way to start the day?
He shifted a little beside her, pulling her close and laying a soft kiss atop her head before he stilled. Evie wondered at the unexpected gesture; sure he had not meant to kiss her.
“I do apologize, Evie. Sleep always makes me a little hazy come morning. I did not mean to accost you so.”
She glanced up at him and met his gaze. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest at his heavy-lidded inspection of her. For the life of her, she could not move. If he were like any of the other gentleman who prowled the ton, surely he may lean down and kiss her? Make use of the opportunity when it arose. She wanted him to kiss her. Her first kiss and possibly her last ought to be with a man like the duke. If she were not ever kissed again in her life, at least she would have experienced one kiss with a man who she valued and liked.
He sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the wooden-beamed ceiling before he left the bed, striding toward the chair where he’d left his clothing the night before.
His back flexed as he hastily pulled on his shirt, his waistcoat, and threw his cravat about his neck untied. “I’ll go downstairs and order breakfast and check on the whereabouts of our carriage. I shall return presently.”
Evie sat up, holding the blankets to her chest and stared at the door as it slammed closed, leaving her alone. Was his hasty exit due to his reaction to her? Reactions that he had not counted upon. They were going to be around each other for some time yet, weeks perhaps, if he became satisfied that Lucy was married and no scandal will darken his name, maybe he would look for another to be his wife. They certainly rubbed along well enough and had things in common, not wealth or connections, but where they were born, duty to do the right thing, and mutual friends. They suited better than the duke and Lucy did, at least Evie thought so.
What she felt whenever around the duke was new and nothing like the lackluster emotions that other men had produced in the past. Her body seemed to come alive, to yearn to be near him, to want to listen to his authoritative, commanding voice speak. The way he had held her last night and his impromptu kiss this morning had to mean something.
Did it not?
Chapter 8
An hour later, after a hearty breakfast of bacon, ham, and coffee, they were on the road, heading toward Slough. He hoped they would make London by nightfall, especially now that upon entering the taproom, the landlord of the inn jovially notified him that their carriage would momentarily arrive.
Finn was thankful for it. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive another day with Evie behind him on the horse. Her chest bouncing up against his back, her hands slipping to sit at the tops of his breeches and making him wish her grip would move lower to caress him. The very thought of having her had filled his dreams, and he’d awoken unsure if his dreams had not come pleasantly true. Without thought, he had kissed her and pulled her into his arms like a lover after a good romp. Before sense had rocked him back into reality.
No, at least in the carriage, he would be able to think straight and keep a safe distance from the delectable Evie, who was not suitable as a bride, no matter how comely she was. A spinster well in the making who was past her childbearing years. If he was being forced into marriage, his wife must be a woman five years his junior at least and not the same age. Even a debutante would do if he could find one from Wiltshire and near his home in Marlborough.
They pulled out of the inn’s yard and through the high street of the town. His betrothed had run off with another man, could be at this very moment married to Mr. Brown, ending his ability to marry her before his sixty-day deadline.
What to do? Should he continue north from London to chase down Miss Lucy, it would all but stop his ability from courting someone else in time to marry unless he threw away his conflicting thoughts on Lucy’s sister and wooed Evie instead. He would seek out his doctor in London and ask him his opinion on older mothers and their ability to have children. The Duchess of Whitstone and the Countess Duncannon had both birthed children last year, and they were of the same age as Evie. Maybe her time to be a mother wasn’t behind her after all.
Finn frowned down at the carriage floor, his gaze slipping to Evie’s traveling boots, which were worn and in need of new soles. Each moment he was around Evie, he was tempted to ravish that pretty little mouth of hers. A mouth that occupied his thoughts more than Miss Lucy’s had ever done so.
The carriage rumbled on the gravely, uneven road, only the sound of the wheels on the ground and his driver talking to the accompanying footman could be heard. Evie was unusually quiet. A thick book open in her lap, and yet he’d not seen her turn a page for the past five minutes. He could not but wonder what she was thinking on, or pretending to read. Was she thinking of him? Finn inwardly groaned at the sight of her bottom lip clenched tight between her teeth in thought. Evie flummoxed him, tempted and intrigued him more than he was comfortable with.
How had he not noticed her in London these past years? Miss Milton had been no more than a passing acquaintance, a mutual friend through the Duke of Whitstone. A conundrum and a shameful one, really.
Because she wasn’t high enough on the peerage ladder for you to look.
Finn ground his teeth at the little chiding voice that whispered in his mind. And the voice was right. He’d always planned to marry a woman of wealth and position and not anytime soon. He had his father to thank for rushing him to the altar. Evie and her sister were neither of those things, and yet his scandalous, nefarious father was no doubt laughing down on him, or up on him perhaps, at the position his son was now facing due to his own stupid will.
Now he had no other option but to marry a woman such as the Milton sisters.
Tonight they would reach London. It would be late, a fortunate occurrence, and one that should stop anyone from seeing them together and without a chaperone. They would break in London and head off for Gretna in an unmarked carriage. The less conspicuous they were on the road, the better.
Finn leaned back against the squabs, watching Evie. Warmth seeped into his bones on the chill morning at the thought of having her under his roof. He’d never had a woman sleep in his home before. Not since his mama was alive, at least.
Evie was a temptation he doubted he could ignore for long, and so it made sense to satisfy his father’s will that his attentions would have to turn to the woman before him. There was no time left to find anyone else more suitable for his needs, and he liked Evie. She was sensible and beautiful, and as a duke, he could never marry someone who was nonsensical.
A short time later, his carriage pulled to the side of the road. Finn checked their location and in the distance could see Windsor Castle and Eton College nestled on the hills beyond. They were not far from Salt Hill.
The carriage dipped as his coachman climbed down from his box before he came up to the window. “The horses need a rest, Your Grace. This is a pretty view as any if ye wish to stroll for a time, break your fast with the picnic the innkeeper packed ye.”
“Perhaps we should break for lunch, Your Grace? I am a little starved.”
Finn glanced about and noted the open fields to both sides of the road and the forest that circled those fields farther away. “Of course,” he said, opening the carriage door and stepping down. He turned and helped Evie outside, and the moment their hands touched a shock of awareness ran up his arm, and he had to force himself to let go of her hand before his coachman noticed his peculiarity.
Evie walked out onto a grassy field that gave an unimpeded view of the grand Castle and school for boys. “This is a good a place as any to set up for lunch.”
Finn joined her, crouching down to sit with her in the grass. The ground was warm, if not a little damp. He’d not had a picnic like this since he was a child, and his nanny had taken him. “We’re only a few hours from London from here. We shall break overnight at my London home before setting off for Scotland in a day or so. If we make good time, we may catch up with your sister before she ruins herself any further.”
Not that he was going to save her now. Miss Lucy had made her choice and it was not him. She would live or die by her own sword. But he would ensure that Mr. Brown married the silly chit and by doing so, eliminating his association with Miss Lucy. He would not allow anyone of the gossiping ton to use his family as fodder for their amusement ever again. He’d endured such an existence when his father was alive. He would not do so again.
Evie sighed, and he glanced at her quickly, wondering what that sweet sound meant and hating the fact that his body reacted to it without warning or sense. “Why are you sighing and not saying anything, Evie? Is there something wrong with my plan?”
She opened the picnic basket that she had carried from the carriage, taking out two bread rolls and handing him one. “I’m curious as to why you would continue to chase Lucy when she’s run off with another man. As a duke, I would think your choice is endless, and you may marry whomever you choose.”
If only it were that simple. “Miss Lucy is from my home county and is young, and I thought unattached. She is from a good family and would have suited me very well.” He paused. “However, I have given some thought to what you’ve said these past two days, about Lucy and her actions, and I no longer see a future between us. My travels north are now to ensure she marries, and neither mine or your family suffer the consequences socially of her choice.”
“When it comes to matters of the heart, do you know that you speak with very little emotion? You sound as though you did not care for Lucy at all, or minded that she had run off with another man.”
“I’m not a man of fanciful emotions or words,” he stated, hating the fact that he was termed as someone without feeling.
She bit into a piece of ham, and his attention snapped to her mouth. Dear Lord, she chewed with the utmost sweetness.
“My father is a true gentleman, but we’re not nobility. We’re not rich nor are we part of the beau monde, and so I find it strange your courtship of my sister. Out of nowhere and without warning, I received a letter from Lucy that she was engaged and with you. A duke.”
Evie was far more intelligent than he initially th
ought, and if he didn’t watch his answers, he had no doubt she’d find out that he’d only offered for Lucy because he’d had no other choice. Why would he speak with emotion when he had none when it came to Lucy?
He was a bastard, and he should have fought his father’s will instead of allowing his absurd clause to run his life.
“It is as you already know. I had business with your father and met Miss Lucy. She was a pleasant and jovial type of woman, and I thought she would suit as my bride.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue.
He met Evie’s steely, rich-brown eyes, and he had the overwhelming feeling that she could read his lie as if he’d written the word across his forehead. One eyebrow arched and he fought not to fidget where he sat. “Lucy has chosen another. Are you so set on your original course?”
“I cannot marry your sister now. Not after what she’s done,” he admitted. “I will not be part of such a scandal—a nefarious start to one’s married life. But as a gentleman, I shall ensure she is married and limit the scandal on you and your family. Women who run away with their lovers always impact those who are left behind.”
“I suppose London will have a juicy time with what Lucy has done, and I shall be talked about until the next scandalous thing occurs and takes their interest elsewhere.” Her dejected tone did something odd to him inside, and he threw a piece of bread into his mouth less he be tempted to pull her into his arms and soothe her hurt.
The idea of Evie being talked about, taunted, and given the cut direct wasn’t something he ever wished to see. For one, she did not deserve it and two, he had been right where Evie now sat. His father was forever causing scandals that were talked about for months. His friends at Eton would ask him of the stories, taunt and laugh at him. He’d not let that happen to her.