by Gill, Tamara
He poured them both a glass of red wine, handing one to Evie, determined to remove the dejected, sad expression that had befallen her features.
“What about you, Evie? You live in London and circulate in the same society as I do. I would have thought that a woman as attractive and intelligent as yourself would have been married by now.” Finn swallowed a robust sip of wine. Today he seemed determined to bury himself in inappropriate compliments.
Her cheeks pinkened, and Finn had to admit that sometimes saying things that were not the way of a gentleman, or what he should talk to an unmarried woman about was worth it. Certainly, if he made her blush and made her porcelain skin turn a pretty shade of pink.
“No, there is not,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I live in London with Molly and have not walked the same path as some of our friends have. My age doesn’t make me the most sought-after woman at a ball, not that it ever made much difference when I was younger. As you know my family is not titled or rich. We’re known more in Bath than in London, and I suppose I was found lacking.”
“You are not lacking in any way,” he said, cringing at his use of more inappropriate words. Soon he’d be as infamous as his father. He studied her a moment, watched as she chewed her sandwich of bread and ham. She tempted him. In fact, he wanted to do wicked and delightful things with her.
Since his father’s death, he’d lived mostly in Wiltshire, looking after his estates and business dealings. Seeing Evie again, spending time with her, more time than he’d spent with Miss Lucy, all that occupied his mind since leaving Marlborough was what the woman before him would look like under him in his bed. Her long, chocolate locks spread about his pillow. Her sweet moans whispered against his ear as he brought her to climax.
“I’m sorry that we did not get to know each other well in London. We have mutual friends, have been to numerous balls and parties together and yet we have never spoken as honest and open as we have these past two days. I’m sorry for that.” And he was. Never had he said anything more true. If he was to change his plan and court Evie to suit the clause in his father’s will, more conversations such as these were what they needed. Evie required to like him in return and trust him.
A small smile played about her mouth, and he wanted to close the space between them and kiss her. To see if her lips were as soft as he imagined. It had been all he’d imagined last evening when he’d pulled her into his bed and hoisted her up against his chest. Her father would have him horsewhipped should he ever find out what he’d done, but he could not help himself. He’d wanted her in his arms for a night and so he’d pushed aside his dislike of scandal and had indulged himself.
Still, the thought of doing it again made him grin back at her. He’d suffer the wrath of anyone so long as he got to hold her again.
“I’m sorry too,” she said, watching him. “Now tell me more about your estate. I’ve never been to Stoneheim Palace, but I hear it is lovely.”
“My great grandfather built it and made a study of Blenheim Palace, hence the closeness of the name and design of the home. In fact, they’re almost a mirror pair.” They spoke for some time about each of their homes, and the local country near Marlborough and for the first time in his life, Finn did not feel as if he were putting on a mask or airs but was being merely himself. It was a heady feeling indeed and one he could get used to.
Chapter 9
They did not make London as planned after one of the carriage wheels lost a supporting bolt and threatened to fall off. Their journey into Salt Hill was slow, and it wasn’t until the sun was low in the western sky that they arrived at the busy Windmill Inn. It was a setback that they did not need, not if they needed to ensure Lucy was indeed married and not just living in sin with Mr. Brown. Tomorrow they would push for London and travel on from there.
Even though the inn was busier than their accommodations of the night before, they were able to get separate rooms. The private dining room, unfortunately, was occupied, and so they had to break their fast in their accommodations.
Evie bade the duke goodnight just as the innkeeper’s wife brought up their dinners of roast beef and vegetables along with red wine for her and ale for the duke, as his request.
The duke’s room was across the hall from hers, and as the innkeeper’s wife bustled about in Evie’s room, setting her table for dining, nerves fluttered in Evie’s stomach as she stood across from the duke about to bid him a good evening.
Something had changed between them today. Her body no longer felt itself, certainly not when Finn looked at her as he was right now, heavy-lidded and a slither of contemplation in his blue orbs. She shouldn’t want him. He was still her sister’s betrothed, sort of, she supposed. Even though he did state that he would not marry Lucy any longer and Lucy had said herself, she did not want the duke.
There was nothing, therefore, wrong with Evie finding him attractive, wondering what if… If he were willing.
“Do you think the carriage will be repaired in time for departure early tomorrow morning?” she asked, stepping aside as the innkeeper’s wife went into the duke’s room to prepare his table for dining.
“I should think so. There is a carriage maker here in Salt Hill, and he has promised to have it fixed for us posthaste. We will make London tomorrow as planned.”
Evie thanked the innkeeper’s wife as she bade them good night. For a moment, Evie stared at the duke, her body a riot of emotions, of wants and needs. She took a calming breath, pushing down the urge to throw herself at him and see where it would lead. If anywhere. “Well, thank you for the lovely day. I shall see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Evie. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight,” she said, closing her door before the duke went back into his room.
Evie bathed and dressed for bed, climbing under the covers and wishing she were home where she could sneak down to the library and choose a book to read. Or merely huddle before her fire in her comfortable room and think about anything but the man who occupied the room across the hall from her.
What was wrong with her that he occupied so much of her mind? He never had before. They had barely spoken in London, there should be no reason at all that he did so now, but he did. He was a duke. She was an improvised spinster. They could not be more opposite.
And yet, he made her heart thump loud in her chest and her skin to prickle with awareness. She’d never had that with anyone before in her life, and she was loathe to lose it.
But maybe she didn’t have to. If her sister was married and the duke looked for another to be his wife, maybe that another could be her.
The thought thrilled and scared her equally.
Evie sighed, rolling to her side and staring over to her window. She’d forgotten to close the curtains, and the moonlit night bathed a small square of the room’s floor in light.
The bellow of a man out in the corridor, followed by running footsteps on the wooden floorboard planks, pulled her from her thoughts. Evie gasped, sitting up.
Had she locked her door? A female voice joined that of a man’s, and she sat still, listening to the altercation. The man’s voice shouted over that of the woman’s, something about her sleeping with the baker and how he was going to kill the bastard by choking him with his own bread.
A light knock on her door made her start, and getting out of bed, Evie searched her room, spotting the chamber pot behind a privacy screen. She picked it up, holding it at her side as she padded over to the door. “Who is it?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt.
“It’s me. Finn. Let me in.”
The fear of the couple arguing left her in an instant, and another fear flowed through her. What did the duke want? What did she want to do if she were to have him to herself another night? Alone.
She reached for the handle, happy to find she had locked the door after all. Opening it a fraction, she took in the duke in all his glory. He wore only his shirt that was gaping at his neck. His hair was askew
as if he too had just been pulled from sleep. Thankfully he wore breeches, and yet she could not stop her inspection of him like a person starved of sustenance. Her eyes took in his bare feet and she bit back a grin. He looked like he’d jumped from his bed to her door and it did odd, delicious things to her insides. “What is it, Your Grace?”
“Let me in, Miss Milton. There seems to be a domestic quarrel going on, and I need to ensure you remain safe.”
Evie glanced down the hall and spotted the couple arguing, the husband or lover, or whoever he was, paced that end of the corridor, his hands gesturing while the woman tried to appease him.
She stepped back, opening the door wide, and the duke stepped inside. He closed and locked the door, leaning on it a moment. “I thought tonight would be better for you, but this inn seems to have people who like to argue with no regard or care to others who are staying within its walls. I do apologize, Evie.”
Evie sighed, walking over to her bed and sitting on its end. “I’m not bothered by it, truly.” Evie took in his state of undress, his shirt that gaped at the front, teasing her with glimpses of his muscular chest. Warmth thrummed between her thighs and she crossed her legs.
His gaze burned into her, his attention traveling over her like a tempting caress. Evie’s breathing fastened, and she bit her lip, wishing her thoughts to be a reality. She was turning as scandalous as her sister.
He sat beside her. The bed dipped a little, and she fell into him. He shot a glance at her as if she’d startled him.
“I, ah, I just wanted to ensure you were safe,” he said after a time, his voice a deep, husky rumble.
“I am perfectly well. Their argument did not wake me, however. I was already awake,” she said, needing to stop talking now before she started blabbering nonsense. “I think she had an affair.”
“Yes.” He glanced at her, and the breath in her lungs seized. He was so very handsome, with his beautiful, blue orbs and chiseled jaw. How was this man not already someone’s husband? Someone’s lover? Although, she supposed he was already someone’s lover. What duke didn’t have a bevy of women chasing after his coattails.
For all the inner strength of self she possessed, nothing could tear her eyes from his. She could lose herself with this man. There was something about him that drew her in, captured her attention and made her want to stay.
“It seems to have quietened outside. You should probably leave,” she whispered. Why, however, she could not fathom since they were alone.
“Yes,” he whispered, not moving.
Nor did she want him to. She wanted him to kiss her. A need tore through her and Evie stood, facing him. He stared up at her, the longing in his eyes a reflection of hers she was certain.
“I’m going to kiss you, Finn.” Evie swallowed her fear, having never been so forward or demanding in her life. She wanted her first kiss to be with this man. This honorable, sweet duke who was chasing after her sister simply to ensure the scandal was not too great.
Evie shoved all thoughts of Lucy aside. Her sister had made her choice. She was in love with another man and was probably already married. Had asked Evie to ruin her understanding with the duke. There was nothing wrong with her stealing her first kiss.
She leaned down, closing the space between them and their lips touched. The last, flittering thought she had was that indeed his lips were as soft as she suspected.
Finn did not feel like himself. His body seized with need, with a desire to ravish the woman kissing him with such sweetness that his heart ached.
Without thought, he reached up, clasping her face. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue against hers. She didn’t start or seize in fear at his action. No, she did none of those things. Instead, she kissed him with the same frenzied need. Wrapped her arms about his neck and pushed herself against his chest.
Her shift was no barrier and the contours of her body, her breasts… Good God, luscious, heavy breasts teased his chest. Her long, thin legs that stood between his made his body ache. Fuck, he wanted her. Wanted her as he’d never wanted anyone in his life.
Their kiss deepened, turned incendiary, and she pushed against him, tumbling them back onto the bed. She came over him, their kiss never breaking, and hunger roared through him like a fever.
He was ravenous for her. Wanted her so much that had he been thinking rationally, it would scare him, but logical thought was a long way off at present, and so he let himself go. To simply enjoy her and her sweet mouth.
Finn rolled her onto her back, coming over her to settle between her legs. His cock rigid, his balls tight. He reached down, lifting one of her legs against his hip and pushed against her hot cunny.
It would be so easy to lean back, rip his front falls open, and thrust into her wet, welcoming heat. She undulated against his manhood, and he groaned, mimicking her and eliciting a delicious gasp from her sweet lips.
A loud crash sounded outside, and they started, the kiss ended. Like a bucket of cold water washing over them, Finn took stock of the position he was in and with whom. What was he doing? He had yet to decide if Evie was even a contender as his wife. He had planned on talking to his family doctor about Evie’s chances of giving him children at her age. And here he was, hard as stone, poised to rip his breeches down and take her anyway.
This was not right, and not only for that reason. Two days ago, he’d been poised to marry her sister. He could not touch Evie until he was certain Lucy was married to Mr. Brown. What he would do after that, who he would marry, he had yet to decide.
Finn gazed down at Evie, her cheeks flushed red with exertion, her lips full and a little bruised from his kiss. She looked ripe enough to eat, and the thought of losing himself in her was a temptation hard to deny, but he had to.
“I must go. I’m sorry,” he managed, crawling off her and ignoring the sight of her lying pliant and ready for a lover—his loving.
He adjusted his clothing, before opening the door and watching as the drunken man stumbled wobbly down the hallway before disappearing into a room. “Goodnight, Evie,” he said, not looking back. To do so would mean one thing. That he would not leave, and that was not an option.
Not now, at least.
Chapter 10
Evie bathed and dressed early after sleep eluded her. Last night when the duke had come into her room, she’d seemed to have lost all control of self. Her body had burned with a need that she’d never experienced before. It ached for his touch, for his kiss, for things that no unmarried woman should ache for. She’d wanted nothing more than to rip down his breeches, take him in hand and make him hers.
She’d wanted to be filled and inflamed, wanted more of his delectable, deep kisses that left her head spinning. What her sister Lucy did not see in the duke, she could not fathom. He was a duke to start, above whom either of them ever thought to marry. He was kind and loyal; his helping of their family to ensure Lucy was married before moving on with his life was proof of that.
Even so, after last night, Evie knew for the first time in her life what it felt like when one wanted something they could not have. She didn’t just want to divert the duke away from marrying Lucy as her sister had asked. Oh no, now she wanted him for herself.
But how to make a duke see her more than a spinster—a woman who was far beneath him in rank and riches.
Evie packed up her things, placing them in her small valise and left the room, heading downstairs. The carriage was hitched and waiting at the inn yard by the time she arrived. The wheel once again adequately attached to the carriage with the correct amount of bolts. Evie placed her small bag inside the vehicle, wanting to go for a short walk before they left.
The duke was nowhere to be seen, and so Evie found the carriage driver. “Dickens, I’m just going to go for a short walk down high street. I shall not be more than a few minutes.”
The carriage driver tipped his hat. “Right ye are, Miss Milton. I shall inform His Grace when I see him.”
“Thank you,” Evie said. Sh
e left the bustling inn and started walking down the main town’s thoroughfare. There were a few stores, a bakery, numerous houses and other inns that looked as busy as the Windmill. Few people were out at this early hour, and she took her time, enjoying the solitude and exercise that she would not get again for several hours.
Today’s journey to London should not take as long as yesterday, and with any success, they would not have any issues with the carriage that could hold them up. In London, the duke had stated he would inquire as to whether Lucy and Mr. Brown had traveled through or stopped. A small part of Evie hoped they had continued on to Scotland. They would be near impossible to find in London, and if they were still on the road, Evie could spend more time with the duke.
Alone.
After last night, the crisp, fresh country air had helped clear Evie’s thoughts. Her sister did not want the duke, so if she were to pursue him, make him see her more than his scandalous ex-betrothed sister, there was nothing wrong with that. It was not against the law.
The kiss they shared told her more than anything they would suit. His kiss had lit a light within her, a light she could not see ever going out. It was not a sweet, chaste kiss on the cheek or lips, but a total ravishment, one that left her mouth tingling, her body longing long after he’d left her room.
She wanted more, and Evie was anything if not resourceful when she wanted something.
“Miss Milton, is that you? Miss Milton!”
Evie glanced across the street and stilled at the sight of Miss Emma Malcolm, an heiress who lived in the same square as she did in London and newly betrothed to Earl Mcfarlane. The young woman was sweet of nature, but a terrible gossiper. Evie looked back toward the inn, and inwardly sighed at not being able to make her escape before being besieged.
“Miss Malcolm, how very nice to see you here. What brings you to Salt Hill?”