Page 29 of A Dangerous Little Scandal

Isadora might have imagined it, but his voice sounded a bit more strained than usual. “If you like. Or I can—”

“Nope. That’s fine.” He stood up abruptly and brushed his hands together, careful to keep his gaze averted from her as he walked back over to the door. “I’ll ensure that some water is brought up.”

Before she even had a chance to respond, the door shut firmly behind him.

“Well,” Isadora muttered, but decided that the best she could hope for was to do what she needed to do and get some rest. Tomorrow was very likely to be another long day of travel, and she would need the fortification to deal with the marquess.

As she waited for his promise of a bath, she sat before the crackling fire and allowed the silence to envelope her. Any other time she was grateful for it, but now it seemed almost deafening. For some reason she had the urge to cry, but her eyes remained faithfully dry. A chill chased through her, but it didn’t have anything to do with the temperature in the room. It was her cold heart.

She hugged herself and thought of her sisters. She yearned for their easy, caring smiles right now. She yearned to go back to the days when they were children, when their easy laughter filled the rooms of Marlington Hall. When the most that they had to worry about then was how they were going to manage to keep Araminta from running off all their governesses with her bold manner, or how to keep Calliope’s dresses clean, or get Olivia’s nose out of a book long enough to eat supper. Even then, Isadora had been the most reserved.

Although they each had different mothers, they had a special bond that had been unbreakable. Isadora prayed that even though her siblings were all married now, that would continue to be so. She didn’t want anyone to draw straws when it came to taking care of the spinster aunt.

She winced, because she prayed that it wouldn’t come to pass where she couldn’t provide for her own needs. She certainly didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. It was why she was trying so hard to make good connections now.

As a brisk knock came at the door and buckets of steaming water were hauled inside, Isadora pushed aside any further musings.

Remington yearnedto utter a string of curses. The last thing he needed was to spend a torturous night sleeping so close to Lady Isadora without being able to touch her or kiss her.

He closed his eyes momentarily in the hall, because the memory of their sweet embrace in the coach was still quite vivid in his mind. He would love the chance to explore that passion in greater detail, but he knew she would never relent enough to allow it.

He was hoping that a reprieve in the taproom would restore his equilibrium and help him to forget that the lady upstairs would be stripping off her clothing and stepping into the tub very soon. Taking a seat at a table with the coachman and his companion, as well as the two Scotsmen who had been along for the ride, he scrubbed a hand down his face and downed half of his ale the moment it was set before him.

“Dinna say things are that bad when ye have such a comely wench upstairs to warm yer bed,” the Scotsman, whom he’d been chatting with in the carriage, teased.

“She’s not my… anything,” Rem returned without thinking, but when he received a curious glance, he cleared his throat and added, “She’s my cousin.”

“Is that all?” The second Scot snorted. “My uncle married his cousin and they have eleven bairns in Edinburgh now.”

Abruptly, Rem’s attention was diverted by the reminder ofwherehe was going, rather than with whom he was traveling. “You wouldn’t be familiar with a family with the surname of Scott, would you?”

The first man lifted his brows. “Well, now, that’d be a broad search in Scotland. Might ye be able to narrow it down a bit?”

Rem wondered how much he ought to reveal of his reasons for traveling through the country, but he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to find out a bit of what he should be expecting, since, asIsadora had pointed out already, he knew very little of his father’s side of the family. “This particular line hails from Dalkeith.”

Immediately, the table fell silent, and Rem thought perhaps he’d made a grave error. But then the second man let out a loud whoop. “That ol’ codger? I heard he was on his death bed.” He glanced at Remington curiously. “What be yer business with the Duke of Buccleuch’s great-uncle?”

He blinked. Until that point, Rem hadn’t even considered the possibility that his great-grandfather might be part of the Scottish peerage. Of course, he should have suspected as much. His grandfather had been the previous Marquess of Osgood before it was passed to Rem’s father, his eldest son. What little that Rem could remember of him, he had been a proud man, so it wasn’t likely he would have wed a lady without proper connection. Although it did surprise him that he’d married someone with a Scottish lineage.

Since a reply was required, he cleared his throat and said, “I fear it’s a private matter.”

“No doubt he owes ye a few hundred pounds,” the first man said with a chuckle. “Since the heir to the castle is too young to make any decisions, they’ve been made on his behalf and I hear he’s been a proficient gambler over the years. Nearly ran Dalkeith Palace into ruins.” He shook his head. “Such a shame. That place has been around for nigh on a century.”

Rem did his best to join in the conversation after that, but his attention was not where it should be. Not only was he concerned even more about this unwilling reunion ahead, but he still had to make his way to Isadora at some point. The steady stream of ale continued until his focus started to become rather blurry. He trudged up the stairs, feeling as though he might actually be able to sleep with Isadora beside him without fighting his body’s response to her all night. At least, he prayed that it would be so.

He opened the door to their rooms and shut the door behind him a bit too loudly. He winced as he glanced toward the bed.The fire offered a slight glow to the otherwise dark room, but he could clearly make out Isadora’s still form beneath the covers. He strode over to her side of the bed and saw that she appeared to be lost to dreamland, so he released a relieved sigh.

He swallowed hard, the sight of her lovely face touching something deep inside of him. He gently reached down, intending to touch one of the stray strands of her dark hair that wasn’t plaited in the long rope that fell over her shoulder, but he refrained.

Instead, he removed his boots, his jacket and cravat and gently laid down on his side of the bed in his shirt and trousers.

Within moments, he was snoring quite soundly.

At first,Remington didn’t know what had caused him to stir, or whether it was minutes or hours later. All he knew was that his body was on fire and a hand was stroking his hard cock—and it wasn’t his.

His eyes popped open and he glanced over at Isadora. Her face was flushed and her lips parted slightly as she gently ran her hand up and down his length. Her eyes were closed. Surely, she wasn’t still asleep?

She mumbled something incoherently, and he realized that while she might be pleasuring him, she had no idea that she was doing so.

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