Page 48 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“I would not think it was safe for you to have your own quarters,” he said, and she blushed.
“Board and dining, three shillings, sir,” the man said, having introduced himself as the landlord.
“That will do nicely,” Ian said, and the landlord nodded.
“And what name is it?” he asked.
“Mr… Johnson, Edward Johnson, and my wife… Celia,” Ian said.
The landlord nodded, before leading them up a flight of rickety wooden stairs to a landing above. The carriage driver would sleep in the stables, and the landlord showed Catherine and Ian into a room at the far end of the landing, which looked out over the road to the south.
“I shall have the boy bring you up your dinner. It is simple fare, for we are simple people, but you shall not be disturbed otherwise,” he said, and nodding to them, he closed the door.
The room was simply furnished with a bed, washstand, and two chairs. Catherine opened the window to allow the fresh air in before sitting down on the bed, still somewhat intrigued by the thought of sharing it with Ian.
“I have never…” she said, and Ian laughed.
“We are to be married, and will we not share a bed then?” he asked, and Catherine blushed.
Her lessons on seduction had given rise to passion, but to be in his arms, to fall asleep together, that was an intimacy beyond the merely physical. She smiled at him and nodded.
“I would like it,” she said, and he came to sit next to her, putting his arms around her and kissing her.
“Soon it will not seem so strange, we are meant to be together,” he said, and she nodded.
Everything about this adventure was new, and she wondered whether her absence was yet realized. To be away from the house for a day would go unnoticed, and even failing to be present for dinner would not necessarily arouse her father’s suspicion. But Catherine knew when breakfast came the next day, both her and father and brother would begin asking questions. An unmarried woman did not stay out overnight, and they would soon discover she was not at the home of Rebecca and Nicholas.
The inn seemed busy, and for the rest of the evening Catherine sat in a chair by the window, watching as other travelers came and went. Later, a boy brought a tray of bread and cheese, a flagon of ale, and some apples for their dinner. Catherine was hungry, and she and Ian shared the meal, talking of all that was to come. He expected them to arrive in Lancaster three days later, and from there it would be a further two days north to Gretna Green.
“And they will marry us there? Will there be a minister?” she asked, and Ian nodded.
“Do not fear, the marriage will be valid. It is the blacksmith who will marry us,” Ian replied, and Catherine looked at him in surprise.
“Blacksmith? I do not understand,” she said, and he smiled.
“The Marriage Act of seventeen fifty-four forbid anyone under the age of twenty-one from marrying without the permission of their parents. But it does not apply in Scotland, and ever since then young couples have eloped north to be married just across the border at Gretna Green. In London, a woman of your standing would need the permission of her father to marry, even though you are beyond the age of permission. In Gretna Green, no one will ask if we have permission. They will only ask if we are in love,” he said, setting down his tankard of ale and smiling at her.
“And we shall both answer, yes,” she replied, smiling at him.
The day was drawing in now, and the landlord’s boy brought them candles to light the room. Catherine closed the curtains and turned down the bed, slipping out of her dress and between the blankets, waiting for Ian to join her. She was nervous at the thought of sharing the bed with him, but intrigued, too, to know the feeling of another asleep at her side. He too had undressed, wearing only his overshirt against the chill of the night, and he slipped beneath the blanket, rolling on his side to face her.
“I hope you will sleep comfortably,” he said, and she smiled, gazing into his eyes, knowing there was nowhere else she would rather be.
“I never thought I could be so bold as this,” she said, and he laughed.
“To run away? To elope? But you were bold, you are bold. If it had not been so, then you would never have approached me in the library at the Somerset residence. You would never have persuaded me as to the ruse. It was you who seduced me, Catherine, and how glad I am to have been seduced,” he said.
She reached out and placed her finger to his lips, moving forward to kiss him. He put his arm over, drawing her close to him, their bodies entwined, their kiss now passionate. He ran his hands over her, and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head now on his chest, exposed from his open shirt.
“You were not playing one of your games? Subjecting me to your rules? Are there rules now?” she asked, and he lay back, running his hands through her hair.
“Why would we need rules now? There is no barrier between us, nothing to prevent us giving ourselves entirely to one another, though I think… I would like to wait until our wedding night to know you fully,” he said, and she nodded.
“But for now…?” she asked, running her hand over his chest, causing him to tense as her touch reached his pleasure.
“For now, we have all night together,” he said, his own hand now on her breast, pulling back her nightgown.
As he exposed her, the chill of the air caught her skin, and she shivered, though a warmth crept through her at his touch, that same arousal coming over her as it had in library during the ball. She was lying back on the bed, his lips moving from her breasts and trailing across her skin, further down, his tongue tracing a line, a sensation which suddenly caused her to cry out in delight as he searched out her sex, the heat of his lips now filling her with ecstasy.
