Beautifully Reckless

by Virginia Taylor

  The room began to darken, and the maid brought in two oil lamps, that cast a flickering yellow light into the room. Another less hearty meal was finally served, cold meat pie and pickles. The fire needing re-stoking. Ian hated leaving Rose with the other men while he fetched the wood, but he could hardly ask one of two strangers to take over the job.

  Rose didn’t appear to have a single qualm about being left alone with the men, who were clearly not gentlemen. Neither had any notion of standing when a lady did, nor pulling out her chair when she wished to stand. However, neither questioned her right to occupy one of the armchairs with her cat, nor appeared to note her lack of a wedding ring.

  A certain helplessness appeared to charm men, as she well knew. He had never been charmed by dependency, and now he knew her better, he saw her frail femininity as nothing but an act. He wondered what she would do when she realized she would have to share the bedroom with him. Nothing would allow him to leave her unaccompanied upstairs while two dubious characters lurked in adjacent rooms. He could have asked Susie, but she had made known that, after she had washed the dishes, she needed to go back to the farm to prepare herself for early milking in the morning, propitious, for he had no intention of letting two shady characters think they would be alone with two helpless women upstairs while the husband of one spent the night in the carriage house.

  When the fire began to wane, and he had no intention of feeding the flame when two able-bodied men sat around throwing down bottle after bottle of wine, he rose to his feet, putting his cards on the table, literally as well as figuratively. “I think it is time we retired, my lady.” His eyes met hers.

  She made a face that silently communicated her fears, the stretching of her mouth in an exaggerated smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her throat moved with a silent swallow. “I think Merry needs a little trip outside. Would you mind, my dear?” She rose to her feet and handed him the tiny, ferocious black cat, which struggled in his arms, and then she began packing up the cards. “If the snow is still deep, we may need these for tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen. I must find Susie and see if she has warmed the bed.”

  Ian watched her hurry out of the room before he took the snarling cat out into the freezing night. Hoping the sullen creature would lose herself in the dark, he was disappointed to see her return with her tail triumphantly aloft. Her Majesty allowed him to pick her up without biting his hand and she clawed on the length of his arm as he hurried back inside.

  He met Rose at the foot of the stairs. She took the cat from him and snuggled the cat’s face under her chin. “Poor darling, having to go out into the cold snow. If you can manage to be a very good little puss I will tell you all about your new home in the country. Ouch. No need to claw. You’re mine now, and I promise that I will take very good care of you.”

  “Or make sure that another of your slaves does,” Sir Ian said, eyeing her sideways.

  “Sir Ian is being ungallant. Don’t listen to him. Whatever I do, I have your best interests at heart.” Having ended her imitation of a mother with a satisfied smile, she held the lamp she had acquired in one hand and the cat tucked under her other arm, and mounted the stairs.

  Ian realized she had assumed the bedroom would be hers while she undressed. He emptied his chest of air and tried to empty his mind of his ignoble thoughts in the same way, wishing he had refused to take her with him. By now, if he had taken the curricle, he would be almost home, or in his warm house, free to do as he liked.

  What he had hoped for most, now, was a comfortable night’s sleep to set him up for travel the next day. Instead he would be sleeping on a cold floor, which he had done as a young soldier. Or in a hayloft. Fortunately, unlike so many of the young men of England, he wasn’t permanently interred in the ground and should be thankful he had a dry floor to use.

  His ten years in the army had convinced him that any bed was better than no bed, and he needed to act like a gentleman even though he may have to offer for Rose regardless of sharing her bed. He tried to not to hope they would be caught out. The seditious thought played on his mind as he sat with Gray and Smith, mentally allotting Rose a further quarter hour.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rose clutched a clawing Merry Cat against her chest, a flickering shadow from her lamp preceding her up the staircase. Her bedroom door opened into a neat room with a small fire crackling happily in the grate. Leaving the light on the mantel, Rose swung her cloak over the shabby, linen-covered chair that stood nearby, placing the slit-eyed, annoyed cat on the fur padded seat. Rose’s portmanteau sat on the bed. Sir Ian’s had been dropped just inside the doorway.

  Noting the lack of a bar or a lock on the door, Rose hoped that Sir Ian realized he couldn’t leave her alone in this room during the night. Although she didn’t know Mr. Smith or Mr. Gray, she wouldn’t trust either as far as she could push them. Whereas, she would trust Sir Ian with her life and virtue, not that the last was anything to brag about, when she had already decided to press her lack of same on him. Physically, she was virtuous, in that she had never let a man handle her, but intellectually she was a scarlet woman.

  She, sadly, was not in the least prudish. Times without number, she had mentally undressed Sir Ian. His broad-shouldered frame told her that he had a fit and healthy body beneath his tailored perfection. She knew he would have muscular arms and his long, hard legs said he was an athlete, and she knew he rode to the hounds in the hunting season. He was also was a crack shot. The younger gentlemen admired him and tried to compete with him when they met him at Manton’s. Reputably, as long as no money changed hands, he would allow challenges to his skill, but he’d had the experience they lacked, and saw off all his youthful competitors.

  If she had any say in the matter, she would find out for herself about his skills as a lover. The rascally Lord Etheldon said Sir Ian’s mistress had thrown out lures to him for three months before he even noticed her. Apparently, his reputation gave him the sorts of offers no man of sense would resist.

  Rose’s lack of practical knowledge would have to be replaced by enthusiasm. No one had ever discussed with her the mechanics, but she did read the naughty books she found on the top shelf of Papa’s library and had a fertile imagination. She tended to over-think, but Sir Ian was not the type of man she could push into anything he didn’t want to do. Surely if she started with a kiss, he would take over and she wouldn’t need to display her ignorance.

  Even now, she didn’t know if Sir Ian expected to share the bed. Mulling her imagined scenario, she deliberated about taking down her hair first, but Sir Ian had said he would be with her in ten minutes. Being in a nightgown already would be easier than undressing in front of him. Her words had been rehearsed for some hours and she knew she could stick to her script. She spread out onto the mattress, staring at the pock marked ceiling. The temperature in the room begged her to slip beneath the covers but a woman sitting up in a bed waiting hopefully for a man seemed too blatant. A little maidenly modesty wouldn’t go astray.

  Having been reluctantly kissed a number of times, she knew men liked to cover her back with their palms and hold her close. She imagined the same with Sir Ian, and shivered in a delicious way. She doubted she could force him against his will, but the outcome would be the same. If he compromised her by sharing her bedroom, he would have to marry her, anyway. She had spent a year waiting for Sir Ian, and tonight she needed to handle him very carefully. No woman wanted a reluctant bridegroom.

  Therefore, in the interest of fair play, she planned to offer him what he should see as compensation. If she made herself appealing enough, he wouldn’t refuse something he would have to pay for regardless. Tomorrow, she would think about her later strategy, but since many other eligible men, without having an idea about the contents of her mind, or her preferences, wanted to make love to her, she doubted males had as much discrimination as females.

  Tonight Sir Ian had seemed more tolerant of her. He had even laughed at one of her deliberately placed comments, whereas
before he had seemed as if he thought her frivolous words had slipped out unnoticed. Her life’s work had been to sort out the people with a sense of the ridiculous from those who took inanity seriously.

  She and her close friends used idiocy to make each other laugh. Sir Ian didn’t, but sometimes she noticed a suspicious gleam in his eyes. Horrible, it was, how much she wanted the man, and now that she had the means to make him offer for her, she wouldn’t waste time.

  “Merry,” she said to the cat, whose narrowed eyes traced her every move. “Tonight is the first night of the rest of your life.” And then she huffed a laugh, because every night was. But she loved hearing people say pompous meaningless phrases as much as she adored repeating them. Fortunately, she found much in life to amuse her.

  Her front opening creation was easily dealt with, and she left the gown on her trunk as soon as she had donned her linen nightgown. She’d had no space for a dressing robe because she had wanted to travel light. For a moment she debated putting on her cape but she heard footsteps in the passage outside.

  The door opened. Sir Ian moved inside the doorway. He silently closed the door, turned, and leaned back against the wood. “I’m sorry I have to share your room, Rose, but I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone, when all I know about Smith and Gray is that they are drinking the hotel dry. The situation has been against us as soon as the snow started falling.” His chin was soldier firm. He focused on her face, but his eyes slipped a little to her chest area.

  For no accountable reason, she crossed her arms as if trying to hide the sight of her unfettered breasts, which was ridiculous when most of her evening gowns showed more of her skin. “If you didn’t, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have stayed here. I would have gone wherever you went. Those men are a little strange. They make me uneasy.”

  He nodded curtly, but his eyes somehow expressed a lack of sympathy. “The die is cast, Rose.”

  For the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything frivolous to say.

  “You understand I will have to marry you?”

  She shrugged, her ego slightly dented. Men had been willing to lie down and let her use them to walk across puddles, and the only one she wanted had decided that he would marry her only if he was forced—which was her original idea and now mind-numbingly insulting. No woman with any pride would accept being considered as the last prize. She squared her shoulders. “My name hasn’t been mentioned. No one knows who I am other than your mysterious non-existent wife,” she said, more than a little miffed. “So, I doubt it will come to that.”

  “I intend to sleep on the floor.” His jaw tightened.

  She nodded. “Of course. It’s only fair that you should be uncomfortable.” Her cheeks heated and she turned away, unbearably guilty. What did her stupid pride matter? She loved him and if he didn’t want her, he didn’t have to have her, but she still wanted him and didn’t plan to give up quite yet. “After all,” she said with an enormous amount of faked sincerity. “It wasn’t your idea to bring me. I’m quite sure you tried to wriggle out if it. This situation is all my fault and I take full responsibility.” She hoped sounded noble rather than idiotic, because she was feeling slightly more foolish than noble.

  “Do you intend to leave your clothes scattered all over the room?” he said, casting a critical gaze at her mess.

  “Oh? Do my things look scattered to you? I thought I was rather neat, but you have to understand that I have a maid at home.”

  “I’m ex-army, Rose. I wouldn’t allow any of my junior officers to leave an article of clothing unfolded.”

  “Truly?” Not intending to obey his autocratic orders, she began unpinning her hair, while she watched him hang his coat on a peg behind the door. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  He glanced at her. “You are a spoilt woman, Rose,” he said clearly, untying his cravat.

  “I know. It will take a very patient man to tame me.” She combed her fingers through her hair, noting how he considered before he spoke. He had begun to sift through her words to decide which might be important and which were used to confuse.

  His eyes focused on her as she shook out her hair and began to make one long braid. He sat on the end of the bed and started trying to pull off his boots. No doubt, in time, without his valet he would succeed, but she moved over to him, crouched, and grabbed the heel. He pulled against her hold and she almost fell backward when the boot slid off. She grabbed the next boot. This time she kept her balance. “See? You would never cope without me.”

  In the lamplight, his eyes glinted with suspicion. “Without wishing to sound ungrateful, Rose, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have you. I would be home and likely snug in my own bed after eating a meal, minus the company of a couple of card sharps.”

  “Are you referring to Mr. Gray and Mr. Smith?”

  “They were mightily disappointed when you decided we would play loo. I think they saw a couple of flats ready to lose money.”

  “Oh, dear. Now I feel mean.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Well, a sweet, nicely brought up young woman would feel mean.” She tilted up her chin and bounced into the bed, pulling a cold sheet to her waist.

  “I’m beginning to wonder if I really know you.” He turned and his eyes met hers.

  His scrutiny worried her. She had no intention of appearing shameless, though she suspected the word might fit her when she thought about him. Unaccountably, her cheeks warmed. “I think, perhaps ...” she toyed with the fabric of the sheet, “... you haven’t seen me as I am.”

  He digested her words without answering while he stood, pulling his shirt out of his breeches. “Did you think they were card sharps?”

  “I saw a pack in Mr. Smith’s coat pocket. Do you keep a pack of cards in your pocket?”

  He turned his back and lifted his shirt over his head. “But I’m not a card sharp.”

  “So, we agree,” she said, breathing more erratically by the second. As she had suspected, his body was hard and muscular, bathed in the gold of the lamplight.

  “I think they are both somewhat shady.” He bent down to the fire, added a log, and turned down the lamp. The floorboards creaked as he moved toward the bed, a dark shadow picked out by the glow of the fire.

  Perhaps she was being impossibly optimistic, but she thought he was a man with a purpose. She hoped that purpose was to make love to her. So many times she had imagined her lips against his and being held in his arms. She couldn’t imagine the next part. Her older sister, Lily, had refused to tell her, but the smug smile on her face said ‘wait and see.’

  She tried to speed up the ‘seeing’ by sliding down the bed and turning in his direction, but the firelight showed her little more that a large man taking a blanket off the bed. “Oh, no you don’t. Leave that there.”

  “Do you expect me to sleep on cold, hard floor wrapped in my coat?”

  “I expect you to show a little sense and use the bed as a normal person would. Martyrdom is wasted on me.”

  He muttered something unintelligible, before saying what could have been a mumbled prayer. Without further ado, he slid into bed beside her. The mattress lowered on his side. Her neck tightened. She forgot how to breathe.

  The moment the full length of his body stretched out, he turned to face the window wall. “Good night,” he said in a final tone.

  She could hardly ask him to make love to her, well, not at this stage. A few preliminaries, like kissing, seemed to be lacking. She buried her nose under the blankets, slightly mollified by having the heat of his body to share, at least. Finally, his comforting presence beside her lulled her to sleep.

  The snick of the door woke her to an early morning grayness. The sun had not yet fully arisen, nor had Sir Ian, who lay on his back staring at Susie who brought in a jug of water for washing. He yawned deeply, his knuckles across his mouth, and his eyes met Rose’s. “Good morning,” he said in a deep blown-out voice.

  She snuffled her lower face back under the bla
nkets. “I’m not ready for morning yet.”

  “Water’s hot, my lady,” Susie said as she backed to the door and out into the hall. The door clicked behind her.

  The cat, Merry, crept out from under the blankets and sat on Rose’s shoulder, arms crossed, and her face turned away. “Oh, and how are you, my merry little creature? Wanting to go outside for a discreet visit to the garden, I expect?”

  Merry’s suspicious expression didn’t change. She clearly held an unknown grudge against Rose.

  “Turn your head away, Rose. I am about to get out bed and have a wash. After that I will take your unsociable cat outside.”

  “That’s very dear of you.” Rose, not for second about to turn her head away, watched a broad back, puckered on one shoulder with a red scar, then a tight rounded rear, unfortunately encased in light linen under-drawers, as Sir Ian strode to the wash-basin. She then watched him run a soapy flannel over his breathtaking body, barely removing his under-drawers to wash beneath, but apparently his parts needed quite a bit of rubbing. “Have you seen all you need to see, yet?” he asked without turning.

  “I have the idea I have seen all you will allow me to see. I have two younger brothers, you remember? I know how males are constructed.”

  “I think you will find that a fully grown male doesn’t look exactly the same as a young child.”

  She was very glad to hear that, but she politely held her tongue. “I think I should call you ‘Ian’ now that I have seen you almost naked, don’t you?”

  He stretched his head back as if he needed to glance heavenward to find his answer. “Call me whatever you wish. I left water for you in the jug.” Appropriating the shirt he had worn yesterday, he pulled the linen over his head. His breeches followed and then his boots. He didn’t bother with a cravat and he donned his coat, grabbed Merry, and left.

  With no reason to stay in bed now that he had left, Rose washed and dressed quickly while the sun inched higher in the sky. The chilliness of the room and the soundlessness outside hinted that even more snow had fallen. She couldn’t say she minded having to stay with Ian overnight again, but Mr. Gray and Mr. Smith prevented her from being totally at ease. She doubted either had any designs on her virtue and she had been able to ward off their nosy questions last night, but she didn’t want to have to keep dissembling. Plus, they had actually booked rooms at this obscure little inn when they could have stayed in a better known one. She could only speculate as to the reason. Her first guess would be that they wanted to remain out of sight.