Page 30 of The Devil and the Heiress
Her heart squeezing in her chest despite herself, she said, “It’s not your fault. It’s the way you were raised.”
“It is my fault. I should have seen. My birth does instill in me certain privileges, but it is my fault for being blind to them.”
Just like that, she felt her defenses lowering. Pleased with his answer, she smiled at him. “No one has ever told you no, have they, my lord?”
He grinned, revealing that tiny dimple in his cheek that sometimes made an appearance. “It happens. Occasionally.”
“It should happen more often.” She felt better about things. He wasn’t beyond redemption, unlike Lord Ware, who thought he could simply weasel his way into what he wanted. And it didn’t seem as if he had read her wicked lines, because he was not regarding her any differently.
“I shall endeavor to make it so.” His grin stayed in place as he offered his arm to her. She accepted and walked back with him to the carriage. After helping her inside, he picked up the stray sheets of parchment that had fallen and handed the pages back to her. He held them as if they were precious and he was afraid of mussing them. That pleased her immensely.
She shuffled them back into the stack on her lap, all the while watching him covertly. The heat of his touch still lingering on her waist, she was besieged by a new and possibly more powerful sensation than desire. It swelled within her chest and almost caused a sigh to leach out of her. Was it adoration? Dear Lord, how would she survive this trip with such a feeling within her?
Chapter 11
They traveled blindly, so propelled by that first explosion of love that one could almost pity them their ignorance of the reckoning ahead.
V. Lennox,An American and the London Season
They were husband and wife that night.
“Rochester.” Christian gave the name to the sleepy-eyed innkeeper who greeted their arrival. They had traveled as long as they dared after sunset in an attempt to outrun the men who would most certainly be looking for them. The alarm must have certainly been raised by now, and all the larger coaching inns and train stations would have their names and descriptions. Christian hoped that no one had put together his departure from London with hers, but it would have been foolhardy to rule out the possibility. For that reason, they kept off the main road as much as possible.
The innkeeper nodded and ushered them inside. “Good evening to you, milord. My apologies to you and your wife.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Violet grin and the apples of her cheeks redden. “I received no notice of your arrival.”
Christian gave a shake of his head. “All’s well, my goodman. My wife and I decided on a quick jaunt to visit an ailing aunt without the requisite travel arrangements.”
The man kept nodding as if he understood perfectly and indicated they should follow him up the stairs. “You’re in luck that we have accommodations for you. Will you be needing a meal? The kitchen has closed, but I am certain my wife can put together a cold supper for you.”
They had decided that Violet would not talk if at all possible. Her attempt at a proper accent was one of the worst he had ever heard in his life. Instead, she put her hand on his arm to follow and nodded her head vigorously.
“Yes, and some warm water. My coachman will bring in our luggage.”
Once he had led them to their rooms, the innkeeper left to bring their food. The rooms were humble and furnished with a small bed, a bedside table, and a washstand. One room had a small table with two ladder-backed chairs, which is where they took their meal. Over bread and cold chicken, Violet said, “Do you suppose that I might write to you, my lord?”
He nearly choked on his bread. Taking a sip of ale—no wine having been offered—he said, “Why?” It was a daft thing to ask. He should be encouraging her interest and not giving her chances to revoke her offer. The truth was that he had been off-balance ever since reading parts of her manuscript. It was plain to see that Miss Rose Hamilton was an amalgamation of Violet and her sister. But who the devil was Lord Lucifer? She claimed to not prefer lords, but someone had inspired such passionate words. He had planned to ask her, but after such harsh words, he knew that he should keep his mouth firmly shut on the subject.
“Because I will be in Windermere, and you will be at Blythkirk, and eventually London.” She shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed our journey together. I think we might strike up a proper friendship if given the chance.” She smiled, looking both shy and eager for his acceptance.
He had to look away, lest he reveal how much he wanted her. They could be very good friends. He could see that easily. She was charming and intelligent, with a sensible logic that belied her years. To be fair, she was not at all how he expected she would be. His interest before had been almost purely physical and mercenary—even then something else about her had appealed—but now... at some point during the past couple of days a fondness for her had taken root. He had no doubt that she would be a delightful and passionate lover, and that even their time spent out of bed would be pleasing.
“Or do you suppose it’s wildly improper?” she added when he hadn’t responded.
“It is wildly improper.” He cleared his throat to soothe the husk in his voice. “We are both unmarried.”
Glancing down at her plate, she said, “Does that bother you overly much?”
“It did not bother me in the least before.” He paused, understanding before he even said the rest of the words how true they were. He meant them to be contrived, to add another layer to the foundation he was building, but they were absolutely true. “But with every day that passes, I find that the married state does hold some appeal.”
She stared at him and blushed, a wave of color washing down her face. He would have bet his entire life that her breasts were now a pretty shade of pink. “I meant would it bother you if I write to you even though it is improper?”
He had known what she meant. His words had been intended to turn her thoughts toward marriage. They had succeeded, but unfortunately, they made his own thoughts turn to the fact that they were posing as husband and wife and there was a bed conveniently located behind them.
Christ. To bed her... He closed his eyes and drank deeply of his ale. One more week. The fall of his trousers pulled tight across his hips.
“Does it bother you?”
She shook her head. The pretty blush still stained her cheeks. “No, but then we know that I am prone to improper decisions.” She smiled and waved a hand at the room, indicating the whole trip. “Besides, perhaps a little intrigue will dissuade some suitors from their pursuit.”
