Page 16 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
“You act as though touching me is something to be ashamed of.” He sobered and toyed with a lock of her hair by her cheek. As he did so, he moved his leg, just enough that it shifted between her own. His knee bumped hers, nudging her legs farther apart. Her nightdress was bunched up around her thighs. She’d always kicked up the dress in her sleep and last night was no different, except a man was sharing her bed, had easier access to her…
“It isn’t, you know,” he continued, “bad for you to touch me.” He released the curl of her hair and covered one of her hands with his. He stroked a fingertip over the back of her hand, tracing the fine veins there before he raised his gaze to hers. When he did, she forgot to breathe. There was so much in his eyes that she was afraid of. If she fell for this darkly handsome man with laughing eyes, it would destroy her. He didn’t love her, nor would he likely ever love her in the way she’d secretly dreamed of. She didn’t want to play a servant to a man’s whims and be his property; she wanted a man to love her for her mind and heart and see her as something more…She was terrified Owen would never be that man for her.
Heat, passion, lust, a hint of something hot, and a flicker of darkness, too, left her heart beating wildly and her body shaking. He made her feel so much of that fire with only a gaze. She wasn’t ready to experience what he was offering, because if she gave in to temptation and let herself go with him, she would be that much closer to falling in love.
He turned her hand over, baring her palm; then he continued to touch her, creating little swirl lines on her skin. A moment later, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. It singed her skin and a trembling of longing rolled through her, shortly followed by a sharp stab of arousal between her thighs. She clenched her knees together instinctively, which only clamped his leg between hers, keeping them locked together.
“You may touch me anytime you wish,” Owen said. “Anywhere, anytime. I’m your husband. It’s not something you need ever be afraid or ashamed of.” There was such an earnest feeling to his words that her resolve to avoid him began to quake and crumble. With a delicate slowness, she curled her hand up so her fingers clasped his.
Her lips parted and the words were there, on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t get them out.
Please don’t hurt me. Don’t make me regret trusting you. She silently begged him not to crush her spirit; it would be so easy to fall for him. And it wasn’t just because he made her feel good physically. It was the small things, like warming a blanket for her by the fire and asking her questions about books over dinner. As much as she wanted to paint him a blackguard and a fortune hunter, she couldn’t deny that his actions spoke against her poor opinion of him.
This was why she feared falling for a man who wouldn’t treat her as an equal. Owen had tried to seduce other women with the intent to marry for money, but with her he’d actually succeeded. He was the exact opposite of a man who would see her value and her partnership in a marriage. Yet Owen was just the sort of man to entrap her heart. Beneath those wicked smiles and playful kisses was a tortured, lonely soul, damaged by war and loss. She wasn’t a fool. She could see the pieces of himself he’d struggled to put back together. He had almost convinced her he was a heartless man who went from conquest to conquest with no thought to the woman he’d bedded. But that was an act. Owen Hadley, at least the man she’d first met, was an imposter. The real Owen lay beside her in bed, and she was still puzzling him out. Who was the real Owen? What demons haunted him in the dead of night? What secrets did he try to bury?
There was something more to him and his motivations but she couldn’t figure it out. What advantage did he gain in seducing her? She and her fortune already belonged to him in every legal way that mattered. His every touch, every kiss and lingering gaze that heated her blood made little sense. Was he determined to steal her heart as well?
Milly lost count of the minutes as they lay in bed together, staring at each other, hands linked, legs locked. It was only after a long while that Owen spoke.
“We should get out of bed. I’ll have breakfast brought up while you see to your needs.” He was the first to break that slowly building connection and she regretted the loss of his touch. He removed himself from the bed and reached for his robe.
Milly waited until he was changed and out of the room before she slipped out from under the bedclothes and washed her face at the basin of cold water on the dresser. The icy splash on her heated skin felt good and jolted her into awareness. It erased the thick warmth she had inside at the thought of crawling back into bed and enticing Owen to join her. What a terrible idea! Milly gave herself a little reprimanding shake of the head.
She didn’t bother with a bath; she could do that when they reached Wesden Heath that evening. Running her brush through her hair, she combed out the tangles and fastened it into a loose knot at the base of her neck and secured it in with pins. A few stray wisps escaped in flyaways near her temples, but they couldn’t be helped. After she searched her luggage, she found a new navy blue coat with braided black trim and a fresh blouse. She stripped out of her nightdress and pulled on fresh stockings and underclothes before she turned to stare at her corset, which lay across the rumpled bedsheets.
She never dreamed she’d dare go without it, but she didn’t want to ask Owen to help her get into it. With a little growl of frustration, she stuffed it in her travel case and finished dressing. When she was done, she studied her appearance in the small mirror above the dresser. It didn’t look too obvious that her breasts were unbound. The skirt was a little tight around her waist, but she could breathe much easier without the whalebone crushing her ribs.
“Well, it’s not as if he’ll notice,” she muttered just as the door opened. Owen strolled inside, his gaze boldly raking over her.
“Won’t notice what?” he asked.
Milly shook her head, swallowed, and glanced away, but she could feel the creeping heat in her cheeks.
“Nothing,” she murmured, and hastily locked her travel case. Constance would blister her ears for such a mess of the clothes squashed inside but Milly would have to endure it.
“Ready? Breakfast is downstairs.” Owen held out a hand and Milly accepted it, despite every instinct warning her to stay away from the man who could break her heart if given the chance.
As they came down the stairs into the common room, Mrs. Hunter waved them over to a table.
“Here, dears, have a seat.” She gestured to a cozy little table just big enough for two. The common room was empty of the boisterous crows of the previous night and was filled instead with lodgers quietly enjoying their morning breakfast.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hunter,” Milly said as Owen helped her to sit before he took his own chair across from her.
“We’re so happy to have you here. Mr. Hunter says newlyweds are good luck.” She winked at them and left them to eat.
“Make sure you get enough to eat. Cook won’t have made much for dinner and I don’t want you to go hungry tonight.”
Owen’s statement froze Milly in place, her hand hovering over a tray of johnnycake with potatoes. “You mean…” She paused, reached for the pot of coffee, and helped herself before continuing. “We need to fill the larder at the house?” What sort of self-respecting cook would let the stores get so low that they couldn’t support even two people for dinner? Maybe Owen’s debts on the estate were truly high enough that he couldn’t keep the household running properly. Was the household that bad off that the larders were empty? The thought made her shiver.
Owen didn’t meet her gaze as he filled a plate with eggs, bacon, and some steamed finnan haddie, a delicious fish that Milly had always enjoyed at home. The presence of the dish here at a small inn was a surprise.
“The haddie was made special for us. Want a bite?” Owen chuckled when he noticed her staring at the dish with longing.
“Yes, please.” She offered her plate. “Now about the kitchen—”
“We’ll see to that once you’re settled into your rooms at Wesden Heath.” Owen’s tone wasn’t sharp, but she had the distinct impression she’d somehow been reprimanded and knew by the cool look he gave her that he would not discuss the matter any further this morning.
She wanted to lay into him and tell him how wretched he was for refusing to answer her questions, but being churlish would achieve nothing. If he wanted to play that particular game, then she would, too…only, she would win.
