Page 89 of If the Slipper Fits
He still had the hurdle of her current marital status to clear. He would secure her freedom from Bolton, by God.
After that, he’d convince her to marry him.He hadn’t a bloody thing to offer as an enticement. No house of his own. No lands. No rank.
He’d acquired a large nest egg thanks to his investments, which would be even larger once Zeke repaid him for his quarry expenses, but he had no steady source of income, thanks to his recent altercation with Zeke and the earl.
Damn. The earl. As usual, Caden was selfish to the bone. In his preoccupation with the soft, warm, utterly enticing woman curled into him, he’d forgotten about the earl’s plight for all intents and purposes.
The bottom line was he needed to hasten them to Chissington Hall, while avoiding at all cost Anna crossing paths with Bolton.
Bolton.How he managed not to smash the man’s face into oblivion tonight was beyond him. Even now everything in him tightened with impotent rage. A duel was called for. But not yet. Not till Anna’s safety was assured.
She sighed and rolled onto her side to face him. Her fingers curled into his chest and she snugged up against him, just like she belonged there.
Damn, but she felt good, and the intoxicating scent of her skin and hair was wreaking havoc on his already inflamed senses. His cock pulsed against her soft, warm belly as if the fine material of her nightshift didn’t exist.
It was going to be a long night.
***
Contrasting sharply with last night’s maelstrom, the morning boasted a cloudless sky. The sun’s rays beamed through the travel coach’s window panes, filling the well-appointed cabin with warmth.
With effort, Anna wore a placid smile. She perched across from Caden who lounged in a recumbent sprawl atop the cushioned bench. For the last quarter hour he’d gazed outside. Evidently the passing landscape held inordinate fascination for him.
She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to scream.
All morning he had been unerringly polite. He had not uttered an untoward word. He simply acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened last night, when in fact everything had changed. It was maddening.
She sniffed and plucked at the soft linen skirts of the fine traveling dress Lady Wentworth had procured for her. Ought she broach the subject herself?
“Have you taken ill?” he asked.
Her heart lurched at the unexpected sound of his voice after a good half hour of lapsed conversation, and she answered more sharply than necessary. “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve heard quite a few sniffles from your side of the coach.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug and resumed his study of the passing scenery.
She chewed the inside of her lip. Why bother discussing last night at all? He seemed disinclined, and it wasn’t as if she was free to entertain an elicit affair. She was—technically—married, on the run, and heading straight for the bosom of Caden’s immediate family, one member of whom was an earl.
She ought to focus her mental energy there, and how Caden intended to explain her presence.
Abruptly, his head angled to face her. His gaze skimmed over her, brows furrowed, mouth curved downward in a matching scowl.
Finally, he meant to raise the subject of last night. “You may as well say what’s on your mind, Caden Thurgood.”
“I beg your pardon? Why assume I have something on my mind?”
“You’re frowning.”
He gave her a chagrined smile. “I’m not frowning, I’m confounded. When I’m tired, the two can look the same. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Heat stole up her neck. She’d slept like a baby, ensconced in his lovely, warm embrace.
“I see.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice the breathless quality of her voice. “May I ask what has you confounded?”
He rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “If you must know, it’s your gown.”
