Seven Nights to Forever (22 page)

ROSE
closed the trunk and flipped the latches. All was set. She had returned to the house to find the dresses completed and laid out for her inspection, along with all of the necessary accoutrements: stockings, chemises, slippers, a pair of sturdy leather half boots, a couple of bonnets, and even a few pairs of kidskin leather gloves. Everything she could possibly need for the coming week. The only item not in the wardrobe—a nightgown. Was that by James’s instruction, or had the modiste merely not had the time to complete one? Though the modiste had managed to complete the navy wrapper, the silk so fine it flowed over her fingers like cool water.

As she had changed into something more appropriate for the journey, the modiste’s assistants had packed the new trunk, which also had been waiting in her sitting room when she had returned. It truly was a marvel what a considerable sum could accomplish.

Standing, she passed a hand over the front of her new soft blue traveling dress. It was practical yet elegantly tailored with small fabric-covered buttons running from her navel all the way up to the demure neckline at her collarbone. A man had purchased her a dress that did not prominently feature her breasts. Now that was a true marvel.

“Is there anything else you need?” Timothy asked as he emerged from her bedchamber, her dark cloak draped over his arm.

“No.” She had already added her brush, the miniature of Dash, and the tin of hairpins to the trunk.

“I’ll be sure to inquire at the hells while you are gone.”

“Thank you.” They had decided that was the best course of action, the only way to determine if or when Dash made use of his newly repaired credit. Her knock on the door of his apartments had been met with silence. In a way, she was rather glad of it. She was certainly not of a mind to begin her holiday with an argument.

Timothy settled the cloak about her shoulders, taking much longer than necessary to see to the clasp. “I will miss you.”

The heavy note behind his low words gave her pause. He had been getting progressively quieter as three o’clock drew nearer. “As I you. But it’s not as if you won’t see me in a week. James will return me here before I set off for Bedfordshire, and then I’ll be back next month.”

His brows knit together. His lashes were lowered, as he hadn’t taken his attention from the clasp on her cloak. “I must have you know how very much I value our friendship.”

“Timothy—?”

He pressed his lips to her cheek. The lightest of kisses. A mere whisper of a butterfly’s wing. When he straightened, a smile curved his mouth. That worry, that hint of pain that had crossed his features was gone as if it had never been there. But perhaps it had been concern and nothing more.

“I hope you enjoy the country. And let Mr. Archer know that if he takes a step out of line, he’ll be answering to me.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, perhaps that’s not the wisest choice of threats. James has a few stones’ worth of muscle on you.”

He scoffed, doing a very good imitation of an indignant aristocrat. “A little thing like size has never intimidated me.”

A startled laugh burst from her throat. “Timothy,” she admonished.

He shrugged, completely unrepentant, and leaned down to pick up her trunk. “The hour has arrived.” He tipped his head toward the door. “Mr. Archer awaits.”

A burst of anticipation, so thick and heavy it caused her breaths to stutter, shot through her. One week with James. A week that did not involve this room or this house.

She quickly grabbed the black leather gloves from the side table and opened the main door of her sitting room, allowing Timothy to pass, and then went out to meet James.

ROSE’S
soft, hitching breaths filled the twilight-dark confines of the traveling carriage. She shifted, her luscious backside rubbing against his painfully hard cock. She was sprawled decadently on his lap with her back to his chest, her knees hooked over his spread thighs, her skirts bunched at her waist, her bodice unbuttoned down to her navel. James drifted his hand up from her hip, to caress one breast, the firm weight heavy in his palm, as he continued to play with her with the other. Gliding over the soft, silken flesh slick from her arousal. Playing at the entrance to her body, then sweeping up to brush her clit.

“There?” he whispered in her ear, though the question wasn’t necessary. The way she arched into his touch was answer enough. But he needed to hear her response. Needed to hear how he pleased her.

“Yes, yes,” she said, in a heated rush.

She grabbed his hand when he made to move from that highly sensitive spot, demanding his attention where she wanted it. He wanted to wait. To keep her suspended on the knife’s edge of bliss, pliant in his arms and begging for more. Needing him and only him. But he let her do as she pleased, taking what she needed from him. Her small hand clutched tightly over his, guiding his movements to match her desires. Later, once they reached the inn and they were alone in their bed, he’d make love to her for hours and wake up with her in his arms. Now, though, wasn’t the place to indulge his desires.

A quick tug on the stays freed her breasts. Through the thin fabric of her silk chemise, he captured one nipple between his forefinger and thumb and gently squeezed.

Her breath hitched on a moan of purest pleasure.
“Yes.”

He increased the pressure, pinching to the point of pain, receiving another moan for his efforts. The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air, teasing his tongue with his every panting breath. He wanted to taste her, to ply her with his mouth instead of his fingers. To capture the sensitive bud between his lips and coax the climax from her body.

The carriage hit a rut in the road, jostling her on his lap, pressing his erection between the rounded halves of her derrière. His ballocks tightened, the orgasm he’d been trying to keep at bay now teasing the base of his spine. All he needed to do was rock his hips against the motion of the carriage. Less than a minute and he would be spilling his seed in his trousers like a green lad, the proof of their traveling activities marking the placket for all at the inn to see.

Gritting his teeth, he fought back the orgasm and focused on driving her over the edge. Her body went taut, her thighs gripping his with surprising force, her fingernails digging into the skin on the back of his hand. He whispered his lips over her ear, nipped at the lobe, and then pressed a kiss over her rapidly beating pulse.

On a soft, high-pitched cry, she shattered in his arms. He felt the release rack her body and then she went lax, slumping against him.

After a moment, she moved off him and snuggled close to his side. “Now where have my manners gone?” she asked with a teasing twist.

“It’s all right.” He laid a hand over hers, stopping its progress up his thigh before those wonderfully adept fingers could reach their destination. It was much easier to stick to his plan for the evening when she wasn’t touching him.

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze. A few wisps of hair had escaped the neat knot at her nape, framing her face. It was so dark in the carriage he could barely make out her features, let alone her expression. But he didn’t need the light to read her confusion.

“Later.” He gave her hand a pat and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

He felt the force of her gaze and then she gave a little shrug. “If that’s what you wish,” she said, tugging her stays up to cover her breasts. “And I certainly won’t protest a bit of rest. I’ve been in a carriage for most of the day yet I find myself oddly tired. I wonder why?”

He chuckled, not even attempting to mask the smug pride. She saw to the buttons on her bodice and then adjusted her skirt over her legs folded beside her. Shifting slightly on the bench, he did his best to reposition himself without reaching down and tried not to think about the coming night as Rose drifted off to sleep.

Some time later the carriage slowed to a stop, pulling James from that lazy place somewhere between sleep and full consciousness. Rose was nestled up against his side, her cheek pressed to his chest, his arm still draped around her shoulders. The steady rhythm of her sleeping breaths went undisturbed. He was loath to wake her, but they couldn’t very well remain in the carriage all night.

He caught the faint scent of cooked meat and his stomach grumbled, reminding him it had been hours since they had last stopped for a bite to eat. A room, then supper, and then to bed with Rose, in that order.

A smile tipped his lips, his prick twitching to life once again.

Rose definitely made the journey to Alton more enjoyable. The hours had slipped by. He had only once opened his leather bag, which currently occupied the opposite bench, and even then it had been out of habit and not from a pressing desire to get any work done. The bag hadn’t remained open long. Just knowing Rose was but a touch away had pushed thoughts of his office, and its various concerns, far from his mind.

Not that she had spent the entire day with her skirt bunched at her waist. On the contrary. She had spent most of the day sitting beside him, her small hand in his. They had talked of the weather, of London, and the sights they had passed along the road. Trivial matters. But the subjects didn’t concern him so much as simply having her with him. Every now and then he had leaned in to steal a kiss, but other than that, he had resisted the urge to indulge until the sun had started to set. With the inside of the carriage veiled by shadows, those stolen kisses had quickly turned into more.

The sounds of footsteps on gravel outside the carriage jolted him to the present. He heard a boy’s voice, likely a groom, and his driver’s answering response.

“Rose,” he whispered, nuzzling the top of her head. “Wake up, dear.”

She let out a little grumpy noise in protest and shifted against him. He reluctantly relinquished his hold, allowing her to push away from him and sit up. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at him. “Where are we?”

“A coaching inn. Up with you now, I need to secure us a room.”

She leaned forward, peering around his shoulder and out the window above the door. “We are staying here for the night?”

“Yes. We didn’t depart until midafternoon, and Alton is a good day’s ride from London.” A triangle of golden light from the lamps outside the inn cut across her profile. Her once drowsy eyes were now wide with trepidation. “I often stop here to change horses, and I’ve stayed the night a time or two when the weather was not cooperating. The inn is quite safe, I assure you.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Can’t we simply change horses and continue on? There’s nary a cloud in the sky.”

“No, it’s much too late. In any case, my housekeeper isn’t expecting us until tomorrow.” He held up a hand to the footman approaching the door, bidding him to wait, and lowered his voice. “Do you wish me to secure a separate room for you, or do you wish to stay with me?”

“With you,” she said, easing his worry that her concern was borne from a desire not to share a room with him. But her hands were clasped tight in her lap, her attention still trained on the inn, and her slim shoulders held a distinctly defensive hunch.

“Is something the matter?”

“No.” Her deep breath filled the carriage. She grabbed her cloak from the opposite bench, slipped it about her, and then pulled up the hood. “All right.”

He opened his mouth, about to question her further, but stopped. Maybe she was simply caught off guard. Perhaps he should have informed her they would need to stay at an inn for the night, but he was so accustomed to traveling by himself, he hadn’t thought to mention it. Given the time of their departure, the inn was a foregone conclusion.

Nothing to be done about it now. As he got out of the carriage and held out a hand to help her to exit, he tried to give her a reassuring glance, but her beautiful face was cloaked by the shadows created by her hood. Side by side, they approached the door. He made to place his hand on the small of her back, but before his palm could fully settle on her woolen cloak, she sidestepped just enough to be out of reach.

He opened the door and followed her inside. Grady’s was the type of posting inn that dotted the roads all along England. Nothing extravagant or luxurious, but the proprietor was pleasant and the rooms clean. A couple of patrons mingled about the small entrance hall. Muted voices and the
clink
of glassware drifted from the dining room down the corridor. He glanced to the parlor on the right, its double doors open, and saw a few more patrons lounging in the armchairs before the hearth, drinks in hand.

Rose remained close to his side and a half step behind him, her head bowed beneath the hood of her cloak, as he made arrangements for the night. Given the fair weather, the inn wasn’t bursting at the seams, and he was able to secure the room he usually stayed in without any problem. Tucked in the rear of the inn on the second floor, few other guests would have cause to traipse past the door. And it also had a bed large enough to accommodate his frame. He hated those narrow things that populated most inns.

As he pulled the necessary coins from his pocket, it occurred to him that it was the first night they would share a bed. He suddenly wished they could have made it to Honey House tonight. He would rather not have their first full night in a rented bed. If he hadn’t been so fixated on the prospect of having her to himself for a week, he might have planned better and left earlier. But she had needed a wardrobe for their short holiday, and he hadn’t wanted to make use of the modiste in Alton. Not much occurred in the country, so gossip had a tendency to spread quickly. He would be able to keep it confined to his house as long as they didn’t venture too far from his property or stop for a visit in the village.

A slightly built young man with unruly blond hair arrived, James’s bags and her trunk in tow, and showed them to their room. As the servant bustled about, lighting the candles and seeing to the fire, Rose lingered near the window, her head bowed, still hidden beneath her cloak. After giving the man a coin for his troubles, James locked the door behind him and crossed to Rose.