Seven Nights to Forever (32 page)

“Oh, James.” Those beautiful light blue eyes welled anew with tears. With a light, comforting touch, she smoothed his hair back from his temples, the leather of her glove soft against his skin. She didn’t say anything else, but he knew she understood.

He tipped his head down to brush his nose against hers. “You have my undying thanks for agreeing to stay. For coming here with me in the first place. Our time together truly does mean the world to me.” Then he leaned back and looked deep into her eyes. She had said it hurt to love him. She had given him the most amazing gift, and the last thing he wanted was for it to cause her pain. He couldn’t change the strictures of Society, but he could try to lessen their blow. “I must have you know that you have nothing but my respect and understanding for putting your family before yourself. Please don’t believe I look down on you. Choices shape our lives, but they needn’t define us.”

Solemn and grave, she nodded. “You are a wonderful man, James.” Then she cupped his jaw and brought his lips down to hers.

He resisted the urge to dive into her kiss and instead followed her lead and kept it light. Gentle. Savoring each smooth glide of her lips against his. To think this kiss almost was not . . .

With a little jolt, the carriage stopped. One more kiss and then he shifted her off his lap and onto the leather bench beside him. He exited the carriage, helped her out, and then hand in hand, they went back into Honey House.

Reluctant to part with her for even a moment, he waved aside Mrs. Webb’s offer to unpack for Rose and saw to the task himself, with Rose’s agreement, of course. Perched on the edge of the bed, a little smile flittering on her mouth, she pointed him toward the closet or the dresser as he pulled out each garment. Once the trunk was satisfyingly empty, he tumbled her back onto the bed and spent the afternoon reacquainting himself with every inch of her body. He only pulled himself out of her arms, and pulled his clothes back on, when the supper hour approached.

After a pleasant meal consisting of Webb’s excellent rosemary chicken, they retired to the settee in the drawing room for tea and coffee. A part of him wanted to take her right back upstairs, to pick up where they had left off, with his lips tracing the delicate curve of her shoulder. But another part of him was reluctant to rush her to bed just yet.

Long after their cups were empty, they loitered on the settee, her tucked next to his side, talking about everything and nothing at all. With the night sky backing the windows, they went up to his bedchamber. And hours later, bodies sated and limbs tangled together, she fell asleep in his arms. For many moments, he simply lay there, her breaths gently fanning his chest, as he marveled at how wonderful it felt to be well and truly happy. To be loved. And he owed it all to Rose.

Tomorrow
, he thought as sleep tugged at his mind. There was no way he could wait until their departure Wednesday, as previously planned. He hadn’t realized it when he’d purchased the gift, but on some level he must have known even then she had captured his heart. And tomorrow, it would officially be hers.

THE
sun hung high in the clear blue sky, offering a tantalizing and welcome glimpse of summer, but the brisk breeze firmly reminded one it was spring. The muted green cashmere day dress covering her legs and the shawl about her shoulders warded off the breeze and allowed her to enjoy the sun’s warmth. Rose rarely had time to relax when she was at Paxton Manor. With only one household servant, many tasks fell into her own hands. No matter the season, something either inside the house or about the grounds needed her attention.

Therefore she savored the opportunity to simply sit on the back terrace and read the newspaper while James saw to the day’s correspondence in his study. But the newspaper lay idle next to her hip. It had not even been opened yet.

Their seven days were coming to a close. Only one more until they needed to return to the traveling carriage. She didn’t regret her decision for a moment to return to the house with him. She knew it was odd to think thus, but in her mind the original holiday he had negotiated with her had ended yesterday, and with it every last trace of those pound notes that had once hung over her head. She had returned of her own free will, for no other reason than because she wanted to be with him and because he wanted to be with her.

But the hours she had left with him were rapidly dwindling. Soon there would be no more and their time together would be but a collection of memories. Each one precious. Each one treasured because it contained James.

No matter how much she wished it otherwise, no matter how much her heart begged and pleaded, she knew she could not see him once they left this house. He had found his way into her heart, imprinted himself on her soul. There wasn’t a drop of regret, though. If ever a man deserved to be loved, it was James. As soon as she returned to London, however, she’d seek out Rubicon and inform the madam she would not welcome any further requests from him. Next month, if he presented himself at Rubicon’s with the intent to spend another evening with her, his request would be denied.

Drastic measures indeed, but absolutely necessary.

The thought of seeing him there was more painful than never seeing him again. She would rather open her arms to a stranger than to him at that house. Being with him there would spoil her memories of their time together, and remind him anew of what she was. And the thought of accepting his hard-earned money . . . She winced. She simply could not do it again. Could not even put her hand in his knowing he’d had to pay for such a simple pleasure. No amount could make it right.

Letting out a sigh laden with the resignation of one about to go to the gallows, she adjusted the shawl about her shoulders. Why did tomorrow have to arrive? She wanted it to wait indefinitely, to stay suspended in the future forever. For it would hold the last day she would lay eyes on James. Feel his lips upon hers. Be the recipient of his adoring glances. The last day he would hold her close.

Her heart ached, a heavy weight in her chest that pulled at her very soul, demanding that she do whatever necessary, pay whatever the price, accept any and all conditions to be with him. But there was no way around it. No other solution to be found. She was becoming much too familiar with the feeling that she was his, whereas he was
not
hers.

And never would be.

The snap of a door shutting pulled her from her melancholy thoughts. Closing her eyes, she simply listened to the click of his footsteps on the flagstones, the sounds coming ever nearer. The long strides of his walk such a distinctive sound to her now, she knew without looking that it was James.

His shadow fell across her, blocking the warmth of the sun. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

She tipped her head back to meet his gaze and forced a smile. “Very much so.”

Moving aside the copy of the
Times
, he settled next to her on the bench. “You cannot fool me, my dear.” He brushed a fingertip over her bottom lip. “You’ve been exceedingly quiet today. Did not even once poke your pretty head into the study.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You could never disturb me. Tempt, yes. Disturb, no.” He reached into his coat pocket and held out a small black box about the size of his palm. “Perhaps this will cheer you up.”

Taken aback, she looked blankly at his offering.

“I was going to wait until tomorrow morning but . . .” He lifted one shoulder.

She gingerly took the box. Breath held, she slowly opened it, as if fearing what she would find. Resting on black velvet was a large, bloodred ruby set in delicate gold and affixed to a matching gold chain.

“If you don’t like it, you can choose something else.” There was a definite note of uncertainty in his voice.

With the lightest of touches, she traced the heart-shaped outline of the stone. Then she held up the necklace, letting it hang from her fingertips. The sun caught the facets, glinting off the surface. The setting was so delicate it made the ruby appear to float beneath the thin chain.

It was the height of elegance. Absolutely perfect. And it made her want to cringe.

Her hand shook the slightest bit as she put the necklace back in the box. “You do not need to give me this. It’s not necessary.”

A furrow marred his brow. “No gift ever should be.”

But it wasn’t a gift. Not a true gift. It was a pretty bauble a man gave a lover who pleased him. Just another form of compensation. A vail given for a job well done. A vail James was giving her.

And why did he have to give this to her today? Why not yesterday or the day prior? Why did he have to spoil their two days together with a firm reminder of just what she was to him?

He had to have purchased it the very day they left London. Had he believed it necessary? Expected? If that was the case, then she would correct him straightaway. Though at least he extended the courtesy of not presenting it to her just after he crawled out of her bed.

Closing the lid, she blocked out the temptation to claim the necklace as her own. To cherish it as a gift freely given, even if it truly was not.

She held it out to him. “You don’t need to buy me gifts.”

“No, I don’t. But I wanted to. I selected it because I thought you would like it. Because I wanted . . .” He shook his head and looked out to the garden beyond the terrace, his mouth thinning. “I’ve never given a gift to a woman and received appreciation in response, much less a smile. I should at least be thankful you didn’t chuck it across the garden.” His hand hovered over the box and then he pulled back, leaving it in her outstretched palm. “I’m not taking it back. It’s yours to do with it as you please. Sell it for all I care.”

The pain on his face was unmistakable. It grabbed hold of her heart, a fierce wrench that squeezed so hard it pulled a gasp from her throat.

With another shake of his head, he got to his feet and made to leave. She reached out, grabbing his wrist. Given his greater strength, he could have easily pulled free. But he didn’t. He merely stood there, his arm stretched behind him, her hand wrapped around his wrist, the line of his shoulders hard and stiff.

“Please, don’t leave.”

She heard the deep exhale, heard the pain in the way the air shuddered from his lungs. Then he slowly turned to face her, his face an expressionless mask. His gaze dropped to her hand, still wrapped tight about his wrist. She forced her fingers to release him. It was so very hard to let him go, yet she knew it would be nothing compared to tomorrow.

It took a moment to gather the words. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I’m not well versed in receiving gifts. Gifts given for no other reason than the joy of giving. It’s been . . . years since I have received such a gift.” Long before her father passed away and she had made herself into a whore. “I should not have . . .” Unable to meet his hard eyes, she hung her head. “Thank you. It’s perfect. Beyond beautiful.”

A bird chirped in the distance. The breeze rustled the leaves on the low bushes beyond the stone balustrade lining the perimeter of the terrace. She chanced a glance up at him through her lashes, hoping beyond hope she had not just ruined their last full day together. How cold he must think her, and how cruel of her to treat his gift with such callous disregard. To assume he had felt obligated to give her such a thing. Time and time again he had proven he was not like every other man who had ever walked into her life. And yet again, she had met his efforts with distrust and suspicion. It was a marvel he had not thrown his hands up in defeat long ago. She truly did not deserve him.

“I am sorry, James. Please forgive me,” she whispered.

He let out another sigh, but this one held the sound of acquiescence.

Her arm trembled as she held out the box again. “Will you do me the honor?”

His mouth tipped up at the edges the tiniest bit. “Of course,” he said gruffly, taking the box.

Tugging her shawl down to bare her shoulders, she turned, presenting him with her back. The iron bench creaked faintly as he sat beside her. He reached around her. The stone was cool on her skin as it settled just above the valley of her breasts. Warm fingers brushed her nape, sending a delightful shiver down her spine as he did up the clasp.

Turning to face him, she feathered her fingertips over the stone. The most beautiful reminder of their time together, of the kind, noble man she would forever love.

“You have my heart, Rose.”

She pressed her lips tight together, tears suddenly pricking the corners of her eyes. How was she ever going to let him go? “You do know I love you?”

He nodded.

She laid a hand over the ruby, holding tight to his heart. “Thank you. I will cherish it always,” she said, doing her best to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks.

“Still no smile, though?” he asked, with a lopsided one of his own pulling his mouth.