His impatience with Rose’s thoughtlessness made him rougher than he liked with Smith. By the time he and Walton had thrown the broken faro table, minus the cards and the counters, into the men’s carriage, and Marty had finished roaring at the men’s coach driver, Ian had realized the sound of the customers shouting and throwing furniture in the taproom had ceased.
However, Rose’s soprano still continued.
He saw the hucksters’ carriage halfway down the road, making sure they disappeared as fast as possible, when the volume of the singing told him he couldn’t possibly have heard Rose from a back room. Her soprano voice pealed from the tavern at the front. Turning, his pulse a whip in his throat, his breathing suspended, he raced through the tavern. Rose stood surrounded by rough men, singing her heart out, which had almost ripped out his. He skidded to a halt, shocked by his underestimation of her.
Standing on a table top, dwarfed in a food-stained white apron four sizes too large, her blonde curls cascading down over one shoulder, she looked like an angel on high, surrounded by a horde of bloody and battered heathens singing Christmas carols with her. He had spent the longest five minutes of his life, remaining where he stood behind her adoring audience, his hands tightened into fists to restrain him from grabbing her off the table.
He was hard put to leave her there while she finished taking requests and charming everyone with her unfeigned sweetness. The woman he had decided was nothing but a cold-hearted flirt was exactly the way she appeared, kind, thoughtful, and, yes, adorable. Rightly, he should bow his head in shame to have so misjudged her. However, he had her safe, at least.
Dumping her on the bed, he stood aside, his fists planted on his hips. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
She widened her soft blue eyes. “That’s a leading question. I’m not sure what I have to say.”
“You were singing in a tavern. If anyone hears about that, do you know what that will do for your reputation?”
She slowly rose onto one elbow. “I will be acclaimed the greatest soprano since Madame Fanny Corri-Paltoni?”
His shoulders relaxed, and he half turned away. Although he refused to let down his guard, on this trip, he had been unable to ignore her endearing sense of humor. But now having finally seen her inner depths, he wanted her for those depths, all the while knowing that he could only have her because of the convenient snowstorm. Even though society’s mores stated otherwise, he couldn’t possibly take advantage of her situation that way. “You are incorrigible.” A heaved sigh relieved a little of his tension.
“Does that mean wonderful?”
He shrugged, determined to appear cool. “Your hair is a mess, your apron is dirty, and it’s time we stopped sharing a bedroom. I believe two more will now be vacant.”
Tears sprang out of her eyes and a trail of glistening diamonds ran down her cheeks. “You can’t mean that. What will everyone think? We shared a bedroom and then you ask to move out?” She lifted the hem of her apron and dabbed at her eyes. “They’ll see that as you being ashamed of me for singing in a tavern. Any other husband would be proud of having a wife who can use a diversion to stop a riot.”
His shoulders sagged. “But you are not my wife,” he said in a tired voice, combing his hair off his face with his fingers. He fought his urge to grab her back into his arms. “That is the point, not you calming the situation.” He watched her tears, fascinated rather than worried. Her eyes didn’t redden, her nose didn’t leak, and her tears somehow seemed superfluous. “And you can stop the tears now. I have duly noted that you are upset.”
“Of course I’m upset. I am being ostracized by my husband.” She gulped.
He stood, staring at her. “We had no choice other than to share a bed, but we can’t continue when there is no need.”
“Of course there is a need. We are more likely to be remembered if our behavior isn’t logical. A normal husband would be proud of his wife, not desperate to find an excuse to move out of her bedroom.” Her blue eyes met his and another tear trembled, waiting to drip to her chin.
He broke away from her gaze to feed a log to the low flames. “I doubt that anyone has pushed through the snowfall since yesterday, therefore we’re unlikely to see anyone we know,” he said, in no way justifying his previous argument. His feeble decision lost to the flare of the fire, he hauled in a breath and turned back to her. He had managed his need of her discreetly last night, and he could do the same tonight in the same hurried way after he had chopped enough wood to keep the hotel’s fires going for a month. “However, you are right. If I suddenly moved to another room after forcibly removing you from the tavern, the staff here would remember that as the eighth wonder of the world.” He jammed the pads of his fingers into his forehead trying to rub his hypocrisy away.
“And we may be able to leave tomorrow, anyway.” She sat up, efficiently sluicing a finger beneath her eyes to remove her tears. “I suppose I should tidy myself up now. I made enough dumplings today to choke a horse. Mrs. Hobbs wanted them for her stew, which she will be serving tonight.”
His breath left his chest with a sigh of inevitability. “You cooked.”
“I cooked. Mrs. Hobbs thought you wouldn’t want to see your wife behind the bar,” she said, batting her incredible eyelashes with too much faked innocence.
“You’re a baggage, Rose.” He shook his head. Life with the wretch would be harrowing. He only wished he could be the one to be harrowed. But he wouldn’t marry Rose unless she loved him.
He waited until she had removed her apron, tidied her hair, and arranged a shawl across her shoulders, and walked down to the morning parlor with her again.
“Merry,” she said in a cooing voice as she spotted the cat, back to the door, facing the fire. “How have you coped without us?”
Merry frowned over her shoulder, stretched luxuriously, leg by leg, and stalked across to Ian. She offered him the same sort of fixed stare he had suffered from his Colonel when he had been a junior officer. He leaned down to scratch behind her ear, which she suffered in silence. “Since you asked so politely, yes, Merry, I will take you for a stroll outside,” he said, scooping her up.
Rose rang the bell on the mantle. “I’ll order the beef stew because I know the dumplings are light and fluffy. Merry, you can have stew tonight too.”
Merry looked overjoyed, or her version, which was expressed by a suspicious frown at Rose.
She investigated outdoors longer than usual, leaving Ian to suffer in a freezing silence while pale moonlit snowflakes drifted down and cooled his face. The snowfall today had been lighter than yesterday and he decided to be optimistic about tomorrow, and assume they could leave in the morning.
Most of the inn staff dropped in to thank Rose for her performance. Hobbs thanked Ian for sending off Smith and Gray. “Thought they was goin’ to be trouble, but I didn’t know how much trouble. I had four chairs broke.”
“But we served more meals yesterday than we have in a month,” Mrs. Hobbs said proudly to Rose. “And we emptied five kegs of ale. We’ll be able to hire a carpenter to make new chairs as well as restock the larder for Christmas.”
Rose smiled widely. “More people should know about this lovely inn. It’s the nicest place I have stayed in on this road. I’ll make sure my family hears about you, Mrs. Hobbs, and your delicious meals. My father takes the trip many times in a year and this is a handy place to stay on the journey back to London, being so close.”
“You’re right,” Ian said carefully, having been unable to frown her down. The fewer people who knew he and Rose had occupied the same room in this inn overnight, the better. “Staying so close to town would mean not having to flush out the servants at home late in the afternoon to prepare a meal.”
Mrs. Hobbs colored with pleasure, patting her chest as if to help her heart to beat.
“They’re so adorable,” Rose said after everyone had left her with Ian. “Susie isn’t even a maid, because she normally works in the local dairy, but she�
��s the best maid I’ve had. Every other one tells tales about me to my mother.”
“No doubt, they have reason. Until this trip, I thought you were an indolent little miss. I’ve now discovered that you have too much energy for your own good.”
“How fortunate you will not be forced to marry me. You would be rigid with outrage if you had to marry a woman who was not content to sit in corner sewing.”
Rose no idea how a wife of an ambitious man should behave. Barely a year ago, the thought would have been inconceivable that the willful beauty would have captured him. Ian’s mouth lifted at one corner. She would certainly keep him rigid, but not with outrage.
However, the time had come to go up to bed. Rose grabbed the cat, which heaved an impatient sigh and glanced at Ian as if asking for help. Absentmindedly, he reached out and tickled her under the chin. “Do you want me to wait here until you are in bed?”
“Are you asking if I mind you watching me undress? I don’t know because you haven’t, but if you don’t plan to stare, I don’t mind.”
“Will you be baring anything that would make me stare?”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know what would make you stare, but I can assure you that I am made the same way as other females.”
“I’ll wait here for quarter of an hour, in that case,” he said, his breath short, praying that last night’s tactics would serve him well again tonight.
She huffed upstairs with the cat.
* * * *
Rose knew the exact moment when Ian had seen her as a desirable woman and not simply the woman who was currently sharing his chaste bed. He had wanted her when he had snatched her off the tavern table. His expression had been the same as her other suitors, slightly transfixed, unblinking, and with a hint of a softened mouth. The only difference between him and her witless suitors was that he didn’t want to want her.
Now she had her chance and she needed to take the first step, or he would somehow evade her again. After all, no one was ever likely to know they had shared a bed, or that he hadn’t touched her. Being desired was not enough for her. She didn’t want an offer because he felt obliged. If Ian married her because he had no other choice, she would feel guilty for the rest of her life.
She hadn’t maneuvered the current situation. Luck had been on her side, but luck often needed a little more help. Her parents had a perfect union and adored each other. All things considered, Rose wanted an honorable husband, and she appreciated that Ian was an honorable man. But honorable men didn’t make love to the daughters of colleagues without proposing marriage. A forced proposal would never be enough for her.
After unpinning her hair, she removed her shoes and stockings, and loosened her laces. Fifteen minutes would allow her time to spare, and so she managed to pack most of her clothes tidily into her trunk after she had donned her nightgown. He had already taught her that a room with clothes scattered all around wouldn’t impress the man who appreciated military neatness.
By the time she heard the creak of the stairs, she was nicely arranged in the bed, her hair disheveled around her face, hoping that looked wanton rather than untidy. The door opened. Ian glanced at her, nodded and, seeing the cat on the chair, sat on the bed to remove his boots. He had barely glanced at Rose. She swallowed her nervousness.
Although she watched him undress, she didn’t see anything that she hadn’t seen last night. He wore his linen under-drawers. Like last night, he turned down the lamp before the mattress dipped on his side. Again he rolled away from her. She whispered, “Good night,” and he grunted.
She slid down in the bed and curved toward him. Dipping her head slightly, she rested the side of her face against the firm and warm skin of his back. When he didn’t repulse her, she snaked an arm around his waist. His hand covered hers. He drew a deep sigh. “Go to sleep,” he said in a husky voice.
She didn’t answer. Instead she moved her hand lower down, flattening her palm over the hard muscles of his stomach. Her insides flipped and clenched as she considered going even lower. Instead, her shifting mouth found the dent in the skin his back. “Is this where you were wounded?” she said against his skin.
He grunted again.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No. Are you planning on talking all night?”
“Not if I find anything better to do.”
The bed lurched as he rolled over. For a moment he remained facing her, and then she heard him sigh. He moved a little closer and dropped his arm around her waist. She wriggled even closer. Both of her palms settled on his chest, which thudded hard. His large hand spanned her back and without any noticeable effort, he brought her body up into his. She lay very still, clasped against his toasty warm body, sharing his heat, while she tried to breath normally. Hard up against her belly his ... “What do you call this? Penis?”
He took another enormous breath. “No. That’s the anatomical name. The part of me that is paying attention to you is called Arthur,” he said in a deadly voice.
She huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “Really?”
“No. I’m a common soldier. I don’t bother with formalities.”
“You’re an officer, or you were.”
“We officers don’t name our penises. We call them cocks like the common soldiers. Can we go to sleep, now?”
She shut her eyes, but her heart pounded and her breath came in short spurts. Not sure if she was brave enough to touch him, she gathered up all her courage and lifted onto one elbow, staring at his face in the dark. She could see outlines but no details but she knew where his lips were, because her nose bumped his.
In a surprise attack, she pressed her mouth to his. For a moment he didn’t react. Then, slowly he responded with a soft tender kiss unlike any she had known. His hand reached behind her head and he slowly slid his mouth from her lips to her cheek. After the lightest touch, he nestled her head under his chin.
His thudding heart rested beneath her palm. Yet again, she raised her face to him. She heard him breathe out before he connected his lips to hers in a gentle pacifying manner. The fact that he didn’t push her away encouraged her. The fact that he smelled like fresh snow and cold air, and he tasted of wine and unassailability made her want him all the more. Although he did nothing to encourage her, she found herself half covering him while he teased her with half kisses, slow kisses, fast kisses and full kisses. Her lips parted and she used the tip of her tongue to tease him back.
Before she knew where she was, she was half straddling him. He cupped her behind with one large hand. She was aware of his heavy breathing, the heat of his big body, and his gentleness. He handled her like a piece of precious porcelain, as if afraid he might break her. Anyone could have told him she was as tough as an old hide but because she looked so demure and helpless, people expected her to be that way. She didn’t mind, except in this case. She wanted to be a real-life woman for Ian.
Nipping at his mouth, she inexorably moved her hand down to his cock. Her chest knotted with excitement mixed with fear. She was now heading into the unknown and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself. With her palm flat over him, and her heart taking up a thud and a stop, a thud and a stop, she almost couldn’t breathe.
His hand clamped over hers. “No.”
Her cheeks heated. Clearly this was not the right thing to do. Well, if she planned to marry him, he would have to let her touch him sometime. Surely. She hesitated. “No means no?”
“No means no.”
“Why.”
“Because we are not married.”
“I’m sure marriage isn’t a requisite for this kind of thing. Even the maids know all about it and I know one or two who had certainly participated.” Even to her, she sounded petulant and Rose Darnell begged no man. Rose Darnell also did not remove her hand.
His flattened. “You surely don’t expect me to take your virginity in a wayside inn?”
She breathed out and lifted her fingers, hearing the harsh grating of his voice. “Of
course not, bearing in mind that a person can’t take something that has already gone.” Having salvaged her pride with a lie, she rolled off him and turned toward the fire, hating herself for being pathetic, realizing that she had always been pathetic. She was pretty, vain, and superfluous. Ian didn’t see her as a suitable wife, or a good mother for his children. He didn’t want her at all.
Her throat swelled and ached. She had a reason to love him. He was a good man, totally good. He was a recognized hero. In war, he had saved his men from death by noticing during a charge that a trap that had been set by the enemy. At the last minute, he had his whole troop swerve, circle around the battlefield, and attack from behind. Instead of losing hundreds of men, he had saved not only his, but those who had followed behind. He had been incapacitated by his wounds, and he made light of the ridged scar on his back. In him, she saw everything that was heroic and noble.
In herself she saw a pretty woman who had men by the dozens wanting to possess her because she was a pretty woman—not because she had any assets whatsoever. None but her friends laughed at her stupid jokes, and no one wanted to marry her because they respected the contents of her mind. Helpless tears soaked her pillow. She heard Ian arise and use the washbasin, then climb back into bed. With her nose blocked and her eyes swollen, she eventually slept.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ian lay on his back for hours, guilty, regretful, and uncertain. If he had taken Rose, that would have been wrong. Instead, he had humiliated her by rejecting her. When he balanced humiliating her on one hand, and leaving her no recourse other than to marry him on the other, he had had taken the only choice a man in love could.
God knew he wanted her, but he didn’t want a fleeting moment of pleasure to lead to a forced marriage. If no one ever found out about this stay at the Pig and Piper, her reputation would be safe enough. Since she wanted him purely for the experience, he saw no credible role for himself in her life. A one-time lover would never be enough when he wanted to cherish her forever.
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