She acknowledged his point in the only way possible. She shut her eyes and relaxed against him. His body felt strong beneath her, and she felt very safe. Her very last thought was, if one day together had brought a waltz and now a nap tucked against him, what would tomorrow bring?
It was the wrong thought. She should have been wondering about when they stopped for the night. But she didn’t realize her error until long after they’d settled into an inn. Indeed, she didn’t think about much of anything until she was wide awake at midnight with a dozen conflicting feelings crashing about in her thoughts.
There was no hope for it. When this happened to her in the country, her only solution was to head outdoors and walk the feelings away. And so she donned her half boots and a cloak. Five minutes later, she had escaped into a gorgeous night in an unfamiliar village. But oh, it was so wonderful to be outside and alone with her thoughts.
Chapter Fifteen
What the hellwas wrong with him?
Jackson kicked at a stone outside the inn and cursed when he realized it was an immovable tree root and not something he could fling far away from him. The jolt up his spine increased his ire and he leaned against the tree to stare out at the village in moonlight.
Pretty. But not as pretty as Lady Gwen.
He inhaled, trying to overwhelm the scent of her body pressed against his. Her hair had sported a lemony scent that remained in his memory even as he absorbed the smells coming from the nearby mews.
He wandered away from the stable in search of quiet. He’d already burned through his plans for their business and was frankly, heartily sick of the details. He was sick of it, except that he couldn’t stop himself from remembering the way she had argued with him passionately about the way to harvest daffodil bulbs for sale. He hadn’t the slightest information on what was best and would follow her advice to the letter. But he hadn’t been able to resist poking at her, questioning her decisions, all while watching the animation on her face and feeling the strength in her body as she moved against him.
She’d merely been gesturing to add emphasis to her words, but they’d been so close together in the carriage that lust had surged forward with every shift of her body. And that was nothing compared to what happened when she relaxed against him in sleep. As she had relaxed, her body had sunk against his and he had cradled her as he might a newborn babe. He kept his hands scrupulously honest. He did no more than pull her hair from her face when a lock slipped down over her luscious mouth. But in his thoughts, he had done so many things with her.
In his mind’s eye, he had caressed her breasts, pinched her nipples, and drew sounds of delight from her mouth. He had kissed her face, her breasts, and between her thighs. And then he had spread her open and lost himself in her sweetness while she welcomed him with cries of delight and hands that pulled him closer, harder, faster.
Such fantasies had tortured him while he kept himself from even the smallest caress. He knew if he once touched her, he would take more and more.
He was not a man who indulged his appetites. Not since Isabelle had shown him how depraved people could become. He enjoyed physical release as well as any man. But he was not one to let such a thing overpower his reason.
Until Lady Gwen. He wanted her with a hunger that stunned him. It was a need that drew him from his bed to pace the dark countryside as a way to prevent him from sneaking into her bedroom and taking her to a place where he could indulge his fantasies until they were both sated. It made no sense to him. She was not the type of woman to attract him. He liked soft-spoken women who were easy to be around and who were content to let him do as he willed, whatever he willed. Obviously, he preferred quiet, biddable women of leisure and Lady Gwen was the polar opposite to that.
And right there was a problem. Lady Gwen would not be ignored. She challenged, she questioned, she forced him to think about things he’d only assumed. She exhilarated him, and when he won against her it was a true victory. She listened to reason, accepted logic, and forced him to do the same.
They matched mind for mind, and he desperately wanted to see if they matched body to body. Which was why it was a terribly bad thing for him to turn back toward the inn only to see her step outside.
She was dressed in a sackcloth. That was his only word for it. A large dark thing that gave no idea as to the shape of the woman underneath. It didn’t matter. He’d felt her curves as she leaned against him, he’d seen her being fitted for gowns, and he’d undressed her in his mind’s eye a thousand times. That ugly dress was simply a tease. Like the wrapping on a birthday present just for him.
He stepped out of the shadows to go to her. She shouldn’t be out alone this late at night. Two steps closer, and he heard her cry out in surprise.
“Get away or I’ll cut you!”
He jerked backwards not from the knife but from the woman’s voice. It wasn’t Lady Gwen, and he felt ridiculous thinking that any woman coming out of the inn would be her. No, now that he was near enough for the breeze to carry her scent, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the dark curls about her face or the fearful twist of her expression.
“My apologies,” he murmured. “I thought you were someone else.”
“I’m not,” she spat, then she rushed by him. He kept moving back, giving the unknown woman as much room as she wanted. And as he moved, he rubbed a hand over his face. He really needed to get Lady Gwen out of his mind.
Then he turned and saw her leaning against that same tree he had accidently kicked when he’d started his rambling. He told himself it could be any woman. Hadn’t he just learned that? Except as he watched, the woman tilted her head as if examining a knob on a tree branch. Only Lady Gwen tilted her head just so when looking at a tree. And only she stood with both feet planted as if she expected the world to tilt beneath her.
He came closer, his gaze roving over the shape of her gown. It was the same thing she wore earlier, flowing loosely over her curves but still giving shape to her figure. Normally he noticed her full bosom, but from this angle he could appreciate the length of her legs and the shape of her bottom, especially as a breeze momentarily flattened her gown against her.
“Lady Gwen?”
She gasped and spun around, then she tilted her head again, this time as she inspected him. “Lord Sayres? What are you doing up and about so late?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
She shrugged. “I blame it on the nap. I am not usually so sedentary and find myself strangely restless now.”
“I was thinking exactly the same thing,” he said. Then he extended his arm. “Care for a walk?”
“Only if you swear not to tell Webster that we did. She’ll have my ears for wandering around at night.”