Page 27 of Undercover with the Heiress
He’d scribbled in ledgers, ruled columns, and discussed fiscal questions in hushed whispers. Even his conversations with Taylor about fraud and financial mismanagement had been carried out with a quiet temperance.
But now? There was nothing quiet, nor temperate, nor peaceful about his afternoon walks escorting Rosanna from the hotel back to Honeysuckle Street.
‘And after that, well, Father came down, and he was livid—told Pierre that no one would speak to his staff that way. The pair of them settled their accounts and grumbled something like they preferred the Langham anyway, which is ridiculous becauseeveryone knew it wasn’t true. No one voluntarily leaves the Aster early.’
Ever since that afternoon when they’d overheard Pennington’s man suggest that Lord Richard kidnap her, she’d started taking his elbow as they walked. She talked, incessantly. About staff and their grievances, arguments, problems with guests, her favourite colours, new boots she was thinking about purchasing, whether she had enough ink to finish all her correspondence… Anything that came to her mind almost immediately found voice on her lips. Around Trafalgar Square, she finally drew a breath. A little further along, by the river, another. And, as they moved into the dappled shadows beneath the cherry blossoms in the park near Honeysuckle Street, she paused for the third time.
‘It is possible to walk without talking,’ Phineas said, compacting his words so that they fit into the small wedge of quiet.
Rosanna tightened her hold on him. ‘You hardly say a word. If I didn’t talk, we’d be walking in silence.’
‘What an incredible thought. Let’s give it a try.’
She rolled her eyes and her lips, but perhaps sensing a competition, she held her tongue. For three glorious steps, the only sound between them was the rustle of her skirt and the crunch of his heels on the gravel path. For three glorious steps, there was nothing but the robins and the breeze and the grey clouds, nothing but the scent of roses and sunshine. Her delicate fingers pressing into his bicep. The brush of her body against his.
‘I’ve made up my mind about something,’ she announced.
‘What dress to wear tomorrow?’ Phineas drawled. ‘Or that you need new gloves?’
‘I want you to bed me.’
Phineas stumbled over an uneven edge of the path. ‘You are not obligated to. This isn’t a real marriage.’
‘But everyone believes it is. The other day, Mrs Redgrave spoke about marital duties, and all the counting involved, and I felt like a fool because I was supposed to know what she meant, and I didn’t. I was so flustered.’ Rosanna stopped, and with a slight tug, pulled him to face her. ‘If you aren’t very good, I won’t mind. It will give me something to complain about.’
‘Books,’ he declared. ‘I have books on this subject in the library. You can look at them.’
‘I’vereadbooks,’ she said, exasperated. ‘Those women will know I am fibbing if I keep stammering like I do now.’ She threaded her fingers through his. Thus caught, he let her pull him a little closer. ‘You really must be terrible.’
‘I’m not terrible at it. I’m actually very good.’
‘Prove it,’ she said.
He tried to step back, but she held him firmly in place. Eye to eye, toe to toe, her spring green gaze met his, and her crisp confidence hovered like the beckoning point on an unattainable horizon. A fool, he was a damn fool. As he slid a hand around her waist and drew her close, he knew he was walking a tightrope. He tried to think of some throwaway line, some provocation, but in the quiet invitation of her gaze, he lost all comprehension of language. One kiss would show her he was notterrible. Then he would send her to the library to learn more.
He grazed her lips. Light. Soft. Just enough to feel the heat of her mouth and a wink of desire. A singular sigh of connection. A long, tilted moment of quiet yearning, and while he longed to press more, taste more, and feel more, he instead nipped her bottom lip and pulled back. But before he could mutter,I told you I was not terrible, Rosanna slapped her palms flat against his cheeks, fixed him in place, and planted her lips rudely against his. Luxurious, luscious softness. He considered fighting, but why? What a sweet relenting, what a delicious experience ofsilence. He chased her sweetness, then dared toseek out her tongue with his own. The lovely swell of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he hitched her closer so that he could kiss a little deeper. Beyond divine. She sought him, tentatively flicking her tongue against his own before she seemed to decide she liked the sensation and fully parted her lips. She was all acceleration, moving from modest to tempest in the time it took him to take a little gasp of air before surrendering to her again.
He could lose himself in her. He was losing himself. He was drowning. She sighed against him as she threaded her fingers through his hair.
Phineas dredged up his resolve, squeezed her hips, then pushed her away so hard she stumbled. She blinked fast, her brow knitting in confusion.
‘That shouldn’t have happened. I told you already—’
‘You’re not interested,’ she snapped. ‘I remember.’
He’d almost forgotten the throwaway line on their first night, spoken after too much whisky and not enough brooding. He’d searched for words of comfort and safety then, but instead blurted out a cross between an excuse and a jibe.
‘I’ll walk ahead,’ Rosanna said, already on her way. ‘You can follow. Then you can have your peace and quiet.’
Phineas retreated to one of the remaining uninhabited rooms on the fourth floor. He would have gone to the fifth, to put as much distance between himself and his wife as he could, but he didn’t want to risk running into the lady’s maid or the house mistress or whoever occupied the rooms at the opposite end of the corridor on the topmost level.
On the way, he met Felix on the stairs.
‘Bit far from your quarters,’ Phineas said.
Felix ground to a halt. ‘I was… I was checking the linens. In the store cupboard.’ He turned to point.
‘And?’
