Seven Nights to Forever (11 page)

“Shall we start now?” He made to raise his knuckles toward the ceiling, to alert the driver of a new destination.

“No,” she said, suddenly too weary to deal with more unpleasant news today. “There isn’t enough time, and I can’t be late again. Best we return to the house—I need to start getting ready for work.”

A bath, wash her hair, have a bite to eat, select a gown, and then the dreaded wait for the door to open.
May I see you again tomorrow night?
James’s voice drifted through her head. An evening where she wouldn’t have to spread her legs for a selfish stranger, but where she could spend a few precious hours with
him
. Last night, alone in her bed, she had finally decided to stop trying to make sense of his perplexing behavior. He’d had his own reasons for walking through her doorway and leaving without availing himself of her offer. Unhappily married or not, it was highly unlikely she’d ever learn the truth.

But he had not actually said he would return tonight. Merely asked if the possibility existed. One would have thought he’d be more definitive if he truly wished to see her again. And Rubicon had made no mention earlier today that James had secured her for the coming evening.

No use at all getting her hopes up. He wouldn’t return. It would be too much to ask. And in her experience, needing something was a sure way to have it ripped from her grasp.

JAMES
set down his pen and pulled out his pocket watch. Only a quarter till eight? It felt like significantly more than ten minutes had passed since he had last checked his watch. He glanced to the stacks of papers on his desk. Everything that absolutely needed to be completed today had been finished and passed off to Decker before noon, leaving the afternoon to oversee the sale of the timber and visit Canning Dock to check how the repairs were progressing on the
Prosperous
.

The stacks remaining on his desk would not take care of themselves but . . .

He flicked the cover closed on his watch, tucked it back in his waistcoat pocket, and pushed from his desk. Less than a minute later he was closing his office door behind him, his coat pocket no longer empty and his step considerably lighter.

“Is there something you need, sir?” Decker asked, his pen poised above the open ledger on his desk.

“Yes. For you to head home.”

“But . . .” Decker glanced to the brass clock on the wall. “Are you leaving?”

James couldn’t help but chuckle. The young man could not look any more perplexed. “Yes. I do believe you’ve seen enough of me for one day. Come along and put the pen down. Whatever you’re working on can wait until tomorrow.”

He made quick work of extinguishing the candles as Decker grabbed his hat and coat. Key in hand, he left the office, his secretary hurrying after him, and locked the door.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Archer,” Decker said as he pulled on his coat.

“Thank you. I shall.” Though he planned to have more than merely a “good” evening. “And a good evening to you as well.”

They parted ways, Decker heading north toward his apartments in Cheapside and James heading west, to Curzon Street. To Rose.

The anticipation that had been strumming his nerves, pushing him to continually check his watch and pulling his attention from his work, began to course through his veins. Since he had awoken that morning, thoughts of her had been ever present. How many times had he wanted to smack himself for not letting her put those amazing hands to good use? Instead, what had he done? Put his own hand to use the moment he had laid his head on his pillow last night. The sweet taste of her lingering on his tongue, the image of her sprawled decadently on the floor of her sitting room fixed in his mind, her skirt at her waist and bared to his view . . . It hadn’t taken but a minute before his hand had been coated in his seed. He had promptly fallen to sleep, only to be awoken before the sun had risen, the dream so fresh in his mind he had frankly been amazed he hadn’t found a wet spot on the sheet.

He shook his head at himself, a laugh rumbling in his chest. The woman had the power to make him feel like an adolescent. Hell, he hadn’t woken up to a wet sheet since he was fourteen.

But that dream . . . His stride faltered as a jolt of lust shot through him. He fully intended to realize it tonight. The only thing he had not yet sorted out was where.

He looked up. The beautiful day had carried into the night, the air like warmed velvet whisking across his face, the stars bright in the clear sky. On rare nights like this he usually took a short detour into Hyde Park where he would sit on one of the benches and enjoy the tranquility before heading to his town house. The park was the closest thing to the country that could be found in the city. Sitting on that bench, surrounded by green grass and with the oak trees behind him, he could imagine himself in the back garden at Honey House, the country property he had purchased shortly after his marriage.

Pausing at a street corner, he waited for a hackney to pass and then crossed the street. Hadn’t Rose mentioned that she enjoyed walks in the park? Her favorite spot was the Serpentine.

A smile spread across James’s mouth. He quickened his pace, suddenly more than eager to reach Curzon Street.

JAMES
tugged the drapes open. His tall, broad-shouldered form blocked the view beyond her sitting room, but Rose knew there wasn’t much to see in the dark back courtyard below. Instead she contented herself admiring the way his navy coat stretched across his muscular back, tapering to his hard waist.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he said.

Well, that explained why he had wanted to open the drapes she usually kept shut. Though she thought it an odd request from him, she had indulged him all the same.

He turned from the window. “Though it cannot compare to you.”

“Of course not. What could?” she teased.

Rich and full-bodied like a fine Bordeaux, James’s laugh filled the room as he returned to the settee, settling beside her once again, her hand instinctively finding his. “Indeed.”

His mood was remarkably light and completely infectious, a smile lurking on his mouth since he had walked through her door.

The same smile that had curved her lips the moment she had laid eyes on him tonight.

He had returned.

She chuckled, unable to keep it inside. Having convinced herself he would not return, his appearance had been so unexpected it felt like a gift. On some level she was aware she should not want him to be here. It was a dangerous thing to be presented with her heart’s deepest desire night after night yet knowing nothing but the most painful disappointment could ultimately come from it. But it was becoming so very difficult to think beyond the moment when she was with him. Each moment precious, each one demanding she savor it to its fullest.

They sat side by side on the settee, so close she was pressed against him, one long line from her shoulder to her knee. The coffee service was on the side table, the lone cup now half full. She should have asked him to prod the fire in the hearth when he had gotten up to open the drapes, but the fire could burn down to embers for all she cared. Just being with James warmed her from the inside out.

He brought their joined hands up, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. “Will you take a walk with me in the park? It is a beautiful night, and I want to share it with you.”

She stiffened. “The park?”

“Yes. Hyde Park. You said you enjoyed walks about the park. You could show me your favorite spot by the Serpentine.”

“Tonight?” That light, airy feeling in her chest drained away.

A crease formed between his brows. “Yes. Or is this a request I should not be asking of you?”

“You may ask,” she murmured. Though no man had asked before. The same request from any other would have been answered with a coy refusal. No consideration at all. Within these walls, her safety was assured. One shout or one tug on a bellpull would right any situation. But by leaving, she would give up that security.

James had certainly given her no cause at all to distrust him. Still, she couldn’t stifle the tension that wound its way into her belly at the mere thought of leaving the house.

His gaze swept over her face. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to accompany me on a walk?”

“It’s late. London’s not safe at night.” She threw the excuse out there, though it was a very valid excuse. Even the streets in Mayfair were not safe at night for a young woman on her own.

“I won’t allow any harm to come to you.” He spoke so casually, like one who didn’t need to back his words with conviction. His mere word was enough. Turning his shoulders toward her, he cupped her cheek with his free hand. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “Please. Share the night with me.”

The pleading look in his eyes, as though he needed it more than anything . . .

Capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, she nodded.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

A grin split his face. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips then shot to his feet, moving remarkably fast for such a large man. “Shall we depart?” he asked, helping her to stand.

She pushed the hesitation aside. “If you would like. Let me get my cloak. I’ll be but a moment.”

When she returned to the sitting room, the cloak about her shoulders, she found him standing exactly where she had left him. He held out his hand and she placed hers in his. She made to lead him out the main door of her sitting room, but this time it was he who hesitated.

He glanced to the narrow door.

“That door only leads to Rubicon’s office. We have to go out this way. But I prefer to avoid the receiving room whenever possible, so we won’t use the front door.” They would have to pass through the receiving room to reach the front door, and Rubicon would likely be presiding over the evening as the other women in the house did their best to tempt the guests to part with a fold of pound notes. Though Rubicon had never specifically forbidden her from leaving the brothel with a client, she doubted it was something the madam would encourage and she would rather avoid any questions, if at all possible. “We’ll take the servants’ stairs to the back door, if that is acceptable with you.”

The smile returned. “Quite acceptable, thank you.”

Was it her imagination, or was that relief in his voice? Whatever the cause, she was grateful for it. She led him out the main door of her sitting room, along the corridor that was thankfully empty, and down the stairs, where she paused to flip up her hood before going out to the back courtyard.

A light breeze ruffled the hem of her cloak. She stayed so close to him that her shoulder brushed his biceps with each step she took. He seemed completely at his ease in the darkened alley behind the brothel, his strides loose yet obviously slowed to match hers. His tall, powerful presence provided a welcome reassurance, and by the time they reached the street, she had stopped glancing into the shadows.

The Season hadn’t yet started so the streets were relatively empty so late at night. Just the occasional carriage passed as they wound their way to Park Lane and then around to the entrance of the park. The moment they stepped through the gates the sounds of the city seemed to fade to nothingness.

They passed Rotten Row, heading toward the Serpentine. Trees bordered the lane, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The moon hung high in the sky, gilding the surrounds in silver light. It was the same park she had visited countless times, yet it looked so much more beautiful at night. Like a veil of tranquility had fallen over it.

“I’ve never been to the park at night.” She spoke in a low voice. The quiet around them amplified every sound, making even the crunch of dirt beneath her slippers seem loud to her ears.

“I have. Many times. I usually sit on that bench over there.” He indicated a wooden bench tucked beneath the high branches of an oak tree. Then he stopped in his tracks, pulling her to a stop as well. “It’s difficult to talk to you when you’re hiding in that hood. I can’t see your beautiful face.” He reached up, his hand hovering at the edge of her hood. “May I?” he asked in an undertone.

It was only the two of them. She hadn’t seen another soul since they had stepped into the park. Looking up at him, she nodded. Warm air brushed over her head as he lowered the hood.

“Better,” he declared. “But . . .”

He reached up again. She felt a light tug on the back of her head and then her hair tumbled down her back.

“That’s much better.” He tucked the ivory knitting needle she had used to secure her hair in a knot into his coat pocket. “Now where is this favorite spot of yours?”

“Up ahead a bit. Right before the lane curves toward The Ring.”

They picked up their ambling pace and had continued on for a bit in companionable silence when he spoke again.