Christie Kelley (13 page)

Fearing Banning. Fearing that he might change, might grow violent was just a cloak she hid behind. A cloak to disguise what she feared most—the truth.

She was no better than her father.

Neither Banning nor Avis spoke as the tension in the coach grew thicker with every mile that passed. She pulled at her silk gloves in her lap, stretching each empty finger. Even before their affair started, she had thought their parting might be difficult, but she’d expected after such an intimate time together they could still be civil. Given his stubborn silence, she realized civility wasn’t an option.

They were bound to run into each other at most of the
ton’s
social occasions. As it was summer, she shouldn’t have to worry overmuch about Society and balls and parties in town.

The Kesgrave country party was only a few weeks away, and it was the only summer obligation she’d agreed to attend. She had also promised Jennette that she would brave her motion sickness and attend the party. Banning would be there. They might have to talk to each other, at least while others were present. She doubted they would ever speak privately again. She would never have an intimate conversation with him, or listen to him play the pianoforte, or edit naked with him, which was deliciously wicked. She’d never have anything but this blasted tension with him.

Acid burned the back of her throat. She had to get out of the coach.

“Stop the carriage, Banning.”

He stared at her for a moment then banged his fist on the roof of the carriage. They came to an immediate halt. Avis didn’t even wait for the coachman to open the door. Scrambling past Banning, she fled the vehicle and raced for the nearest tree. After emptying her stomach, she leaned weakly against the trunk. The fresh air slowly settled her stomach down again.

“Avis,” Banning said, concern lacing his voice. He handed her a handkerchief. “Do you need to rest here for a short time?”

She shook her head. “We should be able to travel again. My stomach is empty.”

“Is this a problem with motion or should we travel to the nearest church and marry immediately?” He cocked a black brow at her.

She brushed past him. “I am not with child.”

“Or you just haven’t discovered that you are yet,” he replied softly.

Her feet refused to move further. She turned around and leveled an angry glare at him. “I have this problem every time I travel.”

“You didn’t on the way here.”

“I slept most of the way.”

“Hmm,” he said, disbelieving her. “My proposal still stands. If you find out there is a child from our affair, you know where I live.”

In her heart, she knew Banning would be a wonderful father to any woman’s child. But
she
couldn’t be trusted with a baby. Slapping his face earlier today had proven that to her.

She couldn’t be pregnant, she thought rubbing the scar on her arm. While the physical marks on her had faded, the memories never would. She would never forgive herself if she hurt a child in anger. The only way to prevent that from happening was to never marry and have children. And never have sexual congress again.

No matter how difficult it would be to live without Banning, she had no choice. Only difficult didn’t even start to encompass how hard this would be. She felt as if her heart had broken into shards too small to repair.

She walked back to the coach and climbed inside. The ride would take another four hours before they even reached the inn. Four more hours of his company today. She prayed he would get them separate rooms for the evening.

Banning reached down under the seat and pulled out a pillow. He placed it on his lap. Patting the pillow, he said, “Put your head down and sleep off your sickness.”

She did as he suggested though her mind warred with the idea that she was succumbing to his charm again. But she certainly was not because that would mean there remained a chance she would change her mind.

As she inhaled his heady, spicy scent, her mind wandered to a future without him. Her nights would never be the same. She wouldn’t wake up to his soft snore in her ear or the weight of his leg over hers. Instead, she would have her cold, lonely bed. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying.

His hand gently caressed her hair as she drifted off and she wondered if life could be any more complicated.

Banning stared down at the beautiful woman asleep on his lap. How could he have told her he loved her? He was a foolish bastard to think words of love would have any effect on her. She’d never wanted marriage, and he had known that long before he offered himself up to her. Even though she’d spoken those words of love to him, he was certain it was as she said—duress.

Damn. But her words didn’t change anything. He would still marry her and just put love behind him. Love only complicated matters and led to smart men doing foolish things. He would just treat this as a business arrangement. As in any business arrangement, everyone had a price. He just had to determine her price, and he doubted it pertained to money. He twirled a strand of tawny hair around his index finger. As he released the curl, it sprang back into place.

There were several options. He could compromise her publicly. The ensuing scandal would force her hand. He knew she enjoyed her life socializing with her friends and the
ton
. She would marry him to save her reputation.

Or would she?

She was as stubborn as his own sister, and he knew Jennette would never succumb to such coercion.

Perhaps ruining her wasn’t the best option.

If she were pregnant, she would marry him to give their child his name and all that went with it. He smiled at the thought of Avis carrying his baby. Or even better, the thought of making love to her over and over until she did carry his child.

Of course, knowing Avis, she would be just as likely to run off to a different country to avoid marrying him. She was a very independent woman and had the means to live anywhere she pleased.

He could always court her until she gave in under his constant barrage of flowers, poetic love letters, and stolen kisses. However, he might possibly be the world’s worst poet.

Dammit!

How would he convince Avis to marry him? For once in his life, he hadn’t any ideas. She was the most stubborn, passionate, intriguing, and beguiling woman he had ever met. Even now, after their disagreements this afternoon, he wanted to wake her up and make love to her again and again until she realized just how much he loved her.

He continued to dwell on his situation for hours, until the carriage rolled to a stop at the inn. With the time that had passed, he should have been able to produce one decent idea, but still he had none. Perhaps one more night together would help his cause—one room, one night with her before they had to return to civilization.

“Wake up,” he whispered, careful not to jar her.

She groaned, twisting her head until it rested against his hard cock. “Not yet.”

“We’re at the inn.”

She came awake with a start. Sitting up, she glanced around taking note of her surroundings. “Already? I only slept for—”

“Three hours, maybe four.”

“Oh.”

“I shall secure us a room while you straighten up.”

“Two rooms, Selby.” Her voice brooked no denial. So much for one more night with her.

He climbed down and strolled toward the inn, noticing that the area seemed to be teeming with people. Strange, given that it was nearly nine in the evening.

“Welcome back, milord,” Mr. Owens said enthusiastically.

Banning leaned against the desk. “We would prefer two rooms tonight.”

Mr. Owens shook his head. “I’m sorry, milord. Between the duke’s death requiring people to return to town and the exodus of people leaving London for the summer, I have only one room left.”

Well, she wouldn’t be pleased with this outcome. Now they would have to sneak her in undetected by whoever happened to be staying here too.

“Very well, one room then.” He gave a cursory look around and noticed two people who gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment. Somehow, he would have to slip her inside.

“Do you have a back staircase?” he asked the innkeeper.

“Yes,” Mr. Owens answered. Comprehension dawned on his face. “Of course, milord. Bring the gel around back and we’ll spirit her upstairs.”

“No one must see her.”

Mr. Owens nodded.

Banning returned to the carriage thankful that no one was attempting to engage him in conversation. He opened the door and jumped back inside. Avis had taken the time to put her bonnet on and straighten her dress.

“This is not going to be easy,” he started.

“Why?” she asked with unease lacing her voice.

“The place is teeming with people. I arranged to have you enter through the kitchen and walk up the back stairs.”

Her face paled. “So I’m no better than a servant now, or a serving wench. Am I here to service your needs, milord?”

“Avis,” he warned, “would you rather risk your reputation and enter via the front door? It wouldn’t bother me.”

“Of course not.” She sighed. “I’m just a bit ill-tempered this evening.”

“Come along now. Pull your veil down and hunch over as if you are ill. That way no one will see your face. Anyone who sees us will think I’m assisting Jennette inside.”

“Jennette! She is a good five inches taller than I am. No one would make that mistake.”

“Shall we?” he asked, impatience threading through his voice.

“Of course, milord.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” Damn, the woman was exasperating. “I almost like you calling me a beast better.”

They wound their way to the back of the inn, passing the herb garden and dodging the chickens pecking for food. The kitchen bustled with activities as the cooks finished preparing the evening meals. Pots clanged and dishes clunked onto the table as silverware chimed when tossed onto the waiting trays. No one seemed to take undue notice of two strangers walking through.

“Right this way, milord,” Mr. Owens said by the staircase.

Mr. Owens led them up to the second floor and looked around the hallway before waving them forward. The room was only a few feet from the staircase. Banning breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

“Am I to presume we are sharing a room again?” Avis asked, removing her bonnet. Long spiral strands that had escaped her chignon framed her face.

A slow burning desire spread to his loins. She hadn’t sounded unduly upset with the notion of sharing a room with him once more. A sensation so strong he could barely keep from pulling her into his arms.

“Yes,” Banning replied. “The inn is full. We were very fortunate that Mr. Owens had a room left at all.”

She nodded. “Please tell me he’ll bring us some food?”

“Of course, you must be hungry. You barely ate a thing all day. While you slept, I ate the meal Mrs. Hathaway had packed for us.”

“I couldn’t have stomached anything then.”

“Are you certain you’re up to it now? I’ve heard tales of women who are sick their entire pregnancy,” he teased, just to see her face color.

Instead of retorting, she took a seat in a worn, green chair by the fireplace and crossed her arms over her chest. He removed his waistcoat and untied his cravat. As he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, she stared at him from the corner of her eyes.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“No,” she answered tightly. “If I sleep tonight, I’ll never be able to rest in the carriage tomorrow. I believe I shall write. If you don’t mind the candlelight, that is.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

They ate a quiet supper in their room. Unlike the last time they were here, the meal tasted like dust and Avis rushed through her supper as if she couldn’t stand being so close to him.

She retired to the small table and brought out paper, her quill, and ink. Banning stripped off the rest of his clothes, noting how her posture straightened as each garment landed on the floor. He almost smiled. Instead, he lay on the bed and attempted to sleep.

Avis spent the night staring blankly at the paper on the table. She wanted to write. She needed to write. But no words came forth. Her characters were exceedingly quiet tonight, refusing to tell her what to put down on paper. Or maybe she couldn’t hear them over Banning’s snores.

Unable to contain herself, she sneaked a glance at him. Dark whiskers extended from his right ear to his left. She wanted to reach out and caress the hairs, feel their bristly roughness again. She didn’t dare. She had caused this rift and there was no mending it.

He wouldn’t want a woman who might strike him when he angered her. He definitely wouldn’t marry a woman who might hurt an innocent child.

As morning dawned, the paper still lay blank. Avis had spent most of the night watching him sleep. Captivated by him. Tears fell silently, burning her cheeks with self-damning clarity. She didn’t deserve him. Some other woman would be his wife and raise his children, while she would watch from afar…alone.

She wiped away the vestiges of her tears.

“Wake up,” she called to him. “We need to eat and continue our journey.”

Banning groaned. “No.”

“Yes.”

He rolled over onto his stomach and put the pillow over his head. “Go away.”

“I need food.”

He mumbled something from under the pillow that sounded like “More than you do me.” Surely, he didn’t believe that. She needed him more than she could ever admit to anyone.

Banning pushed the pillow off his head and tossed the covers to one side. His damned cock had heard her voice and readied for the usual morning lovemaking. Not today, or possibly ever again.

Bloody hell. His life was a mess. He stood and stretched, giving her a full body view of just what she would be missing. Based on the slight gasp he heard, she’d taken notice.

He dressed quickly, but he did note the disappointment in her eyes as his trousers covered his erection. Good. She deserved to be frustrated. He certainly was.

“I shall go down and order a breakfast tray,” he said, walking toward the door.

He took the front stairs down to the dining room. He ordered a large breakfast and decided to wait for the tray. He glanced about the room. Several acquaintances nodded at him. He would have to sneak Avis out the back door again.