Page 81 of Unforeseen Affairs
“Ghosts?” He sounded unnerved.
“Yes,” she said, allowing herself to be more playful now. “The entire inn is riddled with spirits.”
Colin was silent.
“Of course, you are free to pay it no mind,” Charlotte said. “But we would do well to make haste.”
That put an end to their dawdling, and within a quarter of an hour both of them were washed and dressed and on their way out into the village. After a brief ride on a smallholder’s wagon, they arrived in Sheffield.
With the railway completely out of the question, and Charlotte unwilling to risk Colin’s head in a carriage, they settled on the only option left to them in their haste: post horses. It took a fair amount of walking about and asking passers-by, but they ultimately found what they needed from a postmaster, who hadbeen chuffed to recognize Colin and sent them on their way atop two hale and healthy mounts at an excellent discount.
“Are you certain about this?” Colin asked. “I am sure I could manage a coach, or a chaise. I do well enough with cabs in the city. And I can’t say I like the look of the clouds…”
Charlotte stared down at Colin as he secured her valise to the back of her saddle. It occurred to her how much she liked watching him do mundane tasks. He usually had a quiet assuredness about himself, just like this, even when his words were full of apologies and worries about her.
She liked that too, she realized. She liked it when he fell over himself to beg her pardon. It felt nice to be fretted over. Perhaps that was why she’d teased him for so long.
A wicked thought entered her mind, of what she might do were they together in the same bed once more, and she smiled, wondering.
“Miss Sedley?” he asked as he looked up at her, those gentle eyes questioning.
Charlotte felt a blush warm her cheeks, and she shook her head softly. “We will manage.”
“That we will.”
“And do not call me ‘Miss Sedley’ again.”
He paused, thinking for a moment, then smiled, and she felt her heart tighten. He had smiled at her several times that morning already. It made her want to reach out and take his hand in hers.
As if reading her thoughts, he took her gloved hand and kissed her fingers ever so softly.
Her body felt warm and flushed as he mounted his own horse. She’d been more than willing to admit an affection for him, but did that mean she must lose her senses as well?
Slightly disconcerted that she seemed to have suddenly lost so much of the self-control she had always prided herself on, shedid her best to put it away for the time being. To not focus on the width of his shoulders, or the memory of his hard stomach and lean, ropey arms, among other things.
She was in for a challenging ride.
Around the halfway point between Sheffield and Manchester it began to drizzle. At first they shrugged it off, for what else was there to do? They had no choice but to keep on.
And then the sky opened into an enormous spring thunderstorm.
Colin kept glancing back, expecting Charlotte to beckon him back to her, ready to stop and find shelter. But every time, she only looked determinedly at him with her wide eyes, her hat soggy but her back straight. His heart swelled with pride; she’d have made an excellent ensign.
Not even the storm could distract him from the domestic fantasies that precipitated from the events of that morning. Of what Charlotte might be like as a wife, or even a mother. But although such thoughts took hold in his mind with a uncommon strength, resisting even his worries about what Commodore Gearing might say, Colin knew nothing of her opinions on the subject.
Of whether she, in turn, might consider him as a husband. And a father.
She had gently steered the conversation away from the subject when he awkwardly tried to broach it during the wagon ride to Sheffield. It had humbled him and made the dull ache in his head throb, both at the time and when recalling it now, but then he thought of her moans, her eagerness to have him inside her. And he felt slightly better; the pressure in his head had eased somewhat.
The sound of thunder persisted as they plodded along the soggy track, though blessedly the lightning seemed content to remain in the clouds.
In the distance he spotted a small structure—a shelter shed. It was nothing more than a slanted roof, open on all sides, intended as a temporary refuge for travelers or livestock. He fell back and drew his horse alongside hers. The hammering of the rain was deafening.
“Shall we wait it out, do you think?” he shouted, nodding toward the shelter.
“Very well,” Charlotte called back.
They were both soaked through by the time they dismounted underneath it, having dressed for a simple railway journey rather than mounted travel. Colin saw to the horses, settling them by stroking their necks and praising them in a soft, gentle voice.
