Which, of course, only made it more amusing.
He could say a great many things with his eyes, and she loved attempting to decipher what he was saying to her. She hadn’t figured it out yet, but she did know he was saying a great many things.
She craved the day that she could see it all.
Lord, but being with Jeremy was a lark. Full of surprises, full of laughter, full of teasing, full of wonder and delight… It was so very full, and she wasn’t sure she could bear it.
Lying in bed at the inn, she laughed at herself.
Of course she could bear it.
She was loving every minute of it and wondered if she might convince Mr. Mullins to take a more roundabout way to Leighton so the trip might take a bit longer.
Jeremy had driven them all the way to the inn, though he’d made them stop a full quarter mile away so that Helen could get back into the coach like the proper lady she was purported to be, and when they arrived, she called him Mr. Perry just to spite him.
That had given his eyes a look she was fully familiar with.
Delighted amusement, and bemused irritation.
He could hardly give her a proper retort when he was posing as her hired man, and he knew it.
Once within the inn, it was all very much the same as it had been the night before. Dinner in the taproom by the fire with laughter, though not as much as before, as this inn was more populated, but it was enjoyable and fun, and even Millie had smiled at one of Jeremy’s quips. The memory of Jeremy’s own smile at the sight would warm Helen’s heart, toes, and knees until the end of time.
But then, just as before, he’d escorted her up the stairs, bowed at the door, and disappeared.
Again, Helen watched him disappear, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in doing so, as he really was spectacularly built.
And he moved so very well…
Her cheeks flushed even now, though it had been at least one hour, if not two, since she’d watched him so shamelessly. And he’d certainly not seen her do anything of the kind, so really, there was not much to be ashamed of.
After all, she’d been watching him with as much intensity in London when he’d been so finely dressed and captivating, and she’d never been embarrassed about it before.
With as much intensity, perhaps, but without the same sort of emotions.
Without this excitement.
Without this… This…
Whatever this was.
Helen leaned her head further back against her pillow, laughing to herself. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t sleep for thinking of Jeremy, and nothing had happened!
Nothing except finding that the man underneath all the pretenses was more exciting and captivating than the one she had been watching for almost a year.
And finding him far more to her liking.
And that he could rob her senses with a smile.
Or that the feeling of his foot across her shins would give her such warm and delirious sensations.
She obviously had no room to say so, but she wasn’t sure that a kiss could do more for her than that.
She was willing to put that to the test, but it would take some convincing for Jeremy, she was sure. He wasn’t even sharing details of his life with her; how could he possibly be prevailed upon to kiss her for her own insatiable curiosity?
Not that she didn’t want to kiss him for the sake of kissing him. She did. Quite a lot.
But having no knowledge of the thing and no idea how to go about it, curiosity was the reigning motivation.
That seemed as good a place as any to start.
Tomorrow, she would see what she could do to bring that about. After the manner in which Jeremy had kissed her hand this morning, she rather thought she could find a way. After all, what man on earth would refuse a decently attractive woman’s desire for a kiss if he had no objections to spending time with her unobserved?
Really, she was surprised it hadn’t come about yet.
But then, Jeremy seemed to be a bewildering mix of a gentleman and a man who defied categorization.
There was no way to know where his opinions on any subject of propriety and morality were at any given time.
Helen groaned to herself and sat up, shaking her head. Thinking about and planning for kissing Jeremy was no way to try to sleep. She’d be up all night if she kept this up.
Flinging the cover off, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sliding her feet into slippers. She moved to the door and grabbed her wrap laying on the chair nearby, cinching it around her waist. It was best to ensure she would not shock any other patrons who might also struggle with finding sleep this evening, and there was no telling what a man with too much drink might take up with a vulnerable woman in a certain state of undress.
Jeremy would kill her if he knew what she was going to do.
She bit her lip on a nervous giggle and shook her head as she reached for the handle, turning it as quietly as she could. Though she could hear Millie snoring in the connecting dressing room, she had no desire to wake her with the sounds of her departure.
The door opened without a squeak, and Helen grinned at that.
But the grin faded as she took stock of her threshold.
There was a sleeping man just outside her door.
And not just any man.
Jeremy.
She gave him a thorough look up and down, making a note of distinctly feminine appreciation at his form, but forcing that aside for the moment.
What in the world was he doing there? He was sharing a room with Mullins. She had heard them specifically ask for two rooms when they had arrived. Yet here he was outside of her door, apparently settled in for the night.
It was too much, having just been dwelling on him and to now have him here, quite literally laid out before her.
“Lord, Jeremy,” she said in as low a voice as she could while still being audible.
His eyes opened at once, and she wondered if he had truly been asleep at all there. “Helen.”
She tilted her head at him. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to sleep.”
Helen sighed, rolling her eyes. “Jeremy, get up. What are you doing on the floor? And why right before my door? I could have trampled you or kicked you on my way out.”
He exhaled roughly and got to his feet, his hair delightfully disheveled. “I’d have just kicked you back and rolled over.”
She grinned at the scene he painted in her mind and looked up at him curiously. “Jeremy,” she said again, “what are you doing?”
He was suddenly sheepish and rubbed at the back of his hair in an oddly adorable fashion. “I just needed to make sure you were safe. When I wasn’t with you.”
Helen stared at him for a long moment. “So, you’re sleeping outside of my door?”
He shrugged once, averting his eyes.
“Did you sleep there last night, too?” she asked, her voice dipping lower.
He nodded, keeping his gaze anywhere but on her.
“Jeremy…”
Slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers, and the intensity in them caught Helen in the middle of her chest.
Before she knew what she was doing, she moved two steps forward and took Jeremy’s face in her hands, going up on tiptoe, and arching up to press her lips to his. He stiffened slightly, then slid one hand into her loose and unbound hair, the other reaching around her waist and pulling her close.
Helen’s inexperience meant nothing anymore as Jeremy took complete control of the kiss, parting her lips easily with his own and showing her the way, gently and thoroughly dismantling any and all defenses she had ever thought herself to have. His lips teased her, far more effectively than his words ever had, and the insistent caresses sent a faint but stirring humming throughout her entire body. She clung to him, unable to sustain her own weight on her suddenly unsteady legs, her breath coming in faint gasps and sighs.
It was an eternity that their lips melded and fused, danced and grazed, and
yet when Jeremy eased himself away with a low moan, Helen felt as though they had barely begun. They stood there for a wild moment, lips a faint breath from each other, panting unsteadily.
Jeremy smiled and laughed, the deep rumbling sound echoing through Helen down to her toes. “Now, what do you need, Miss Dalton?”
Helen released a gasping giggle and moved one of her hands to cover his in her hair. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He leaned back and stooped to meet her eyes evenly, still grinning almost smugly. “You sure?”
She nodded, her lashes fluttering as his fingers stroked against her scalp. She smiled dreamily at him. “I can’t even remember why I was going anywhere.”
Jeremy chuckled, let his lips fall against hers once more, then stepped away, exhaling as he did so. “Then goodnight, Helen.”
“Goodnight, Jeremy,” she whispered, unable to stop smiling. She tucked her hair behind her ear, suddenly terribly shy, and turned for the door, shutting it in the most awkward way possible.
Then, as she leaned against the door, her heart finally decided it existed, pattered wildly, and seemed to ricochet off of every single one of her ribs.
Lord above, kissing was so much better than shin kicking. It wasn’t even worthy of a comparison.
And Jeremy had… Jeremy was…
Helen bit her lip on the faintest squeal, and sank to the floor, drawing her knees to her chest, grinning like an absolute idiot. She covered her mouth as helpless giggles threatened to escape, and her shoulders shuddered with the delight of them.
A soft sound below her caught her attention and she looked down.
The tips of a few fingers had slid under the door, resting against the floor and seeming to hold a very faint tremor in them.
Helen stared at them, still grinning, only now her eyes began to prickle with tender tears. She sniffed them back, then sighed as she laid her fingers atop his, gasping quietly when they curled against hers.
An accompanying almost gasp echoed from the other side of the door.
She stared at their nearly-joined fingers for a number of heartbeats, then sighed again and leaned her head back against the door. “Lord, Jeremy,” she breathed, her lips pulling back into the same dreamy smile they’d worn in the aftermath of his kiss.
His fingers brushed against hers once more in response.
Chapter Eight
Somehow, Helen managed to sleep, though her dreams had been a muddled delirium of colors, excitement, and soaring emotions that had only left her more exhilarated when she woke up.
Jeremy had been the key figure in those dreams, though the details were lost on her moments after waking.
Still, the anticipation of seeing him again was unbearable, and Helen had giggled and squealed the entire time Millie had assisted her as she dressed and prepared for breakfast. Millie had asked no questions, but her bemused smile told Helen that not many questions needed to be asked.
From Helen’s perspective, there were many questions that needed to be asked, and many answers that she wanted to hear. But she would settle for the breathless anticipation she felt as she descended to the somehow empty taproom. Jeremy would be around somewhere, and she would know fairly quickly how to behave with him after such a night. His reaction to her would be key, and never had she been keener for observation.
And to be observed.
Again, she had chosen a less than ideal travelling gown, but there was nothing to be done about that. She knew full well how she looked in blue, and this particular powder blue highlighted her eyes in a rather fetching way.
Jeremy would appreciate that.
If he noticed.
Helen moved into the taproom, looking around curiously, and then she saw Jeremy striding in from the front, his attention elsewhere. Then, he looked over at her and stuttered a step before turning in her direction, his eyes fixed on hers, his mouth slowly curving.
She couldn’t move as he approached, her pulse racing, her breath hitching, her cheeks flushing… She was a cacophony of sensation and emotion, hardly resembling herself at all. The thought occurred to her to say something, anything, but her lips hesitated to do anything at all.
Jeremy had no hesitation. He came directly to Helen, his chest heaving on an exhale, and reached for one of her hands, kissing the back of it very softly.
She barely had time to catch her breath before that hand was lifted to the back of his neck and he leaned down to capture her lips in a teasing, insistent kiss. Helen sighed into him, pressing him closer, catching his laughter in the kiss she was now actively, and eagerly, engaged in.
He pulled away, brushing his nose against hers. “Good morning,” he murmured.
“I should say so,” Helen breathed, grinning at him. “What was that for?”
Jeremy gave her a crooked smirk, his eyes dancing. “I wasn’t sure if I dreamt it or not. I had to be sure.”
She laughed and arched up to kiss him quickly. “Not a dream.”
He leaned back and raised a brow. “You sure about that? This all feels rather dream-like.”
Helen felt her cheeks heat again, and she averted her eyes. She was no shy and retreating miss, but something about him and his romantic words turned her inside out and upside down. Now she blushed frequently.
Jeremy laughed at her discomfiture and laced his fingers with hers, leading her over to a table where a fair breakfast spread lay.
He sat with her while she ate, keeping up a steady stream of conversation without any help from her, and making her smile so much her cheeks ached.
The day was young, and the road before them would be long, but Helen didn’t care. She’d rather it was longer still, that her brother lived in Northumberland or some such, just to give her more time to feel this exhilaration and excitement, this giddy sense of wonder with this man who seemed incapable of releasing her hand today.
Never had she been so delighted to eat with only one hand.
Or do anything with one hand, for that matter.
Which was well, as hours later she was sitting in a carriage with Jeremy beside her, her hand still as nestled in his as it had been at breakfast. And all morning. And at luncheon.
And in the time that had passed since then.
They’d kept it as hidden from Millie as possible, which was far easier now that she was soundly asleep on her side of the carriage.
“She’s not much of a chaperone for you, is she?” Jeremy mused as the pair of them stared at the slightly snoring Millie.
Helen nudged him hard. “Millie is lovely.”
“I know that,” he protested, “and I never said otherwise. All I meant was that she lacks a certain awareness that all chaperones ought to possess.”
“Millie wasn’t supposed to be a chaperone for me,” Helen explained with all the patience in the world. “She is a companion, and a lady’s maid, if none can be had. I’m really quite fond of her.”
Jeremy groaned a little. “All very well, but in this instance, she would be better served being awake to ensure nothing untoward happened to you.”
Helen glanced at Jeremy with a quirked brow. “Do you anticipate anything untoward occurring at this moment, Jeremy? Have I need of a chaperone?”
His mischievous grin was swift and endearing. “One never knows, which is why chaperones exist, I’d wager.”
“Undoubtedly,” Helen retorted wryly. “It would not surprise me if you were well-versed in all things chaperone.”
Jeremy snorted softly. “Of course I am. I was a right scamp in my youth, and nothing irked me more than being supervised. It made no difference if it were supposed to induce me to behave or to keep a young lady from misbehaving, I chafed at them all. Not that I ever misbehaved with a young lady, as I never had any time to consider them properly. Too busy creating my own troubles. Poor John was always much better behaved, but he was so devoted to keeping me out of mischief that more often than not both of us were punished because his intervention appeared to be part of the trouble. Neve
r mind that it always made things better than they could have been.”
“It’s a wonder he doesn’t resent you.” Helen laughed and tilted her head back to look up at him. “I would be furious with you for years if it had been me.”
“Well, we almost never spoke at university,” Jeremy informed her, his tone sardonic. “It took him a good three years to acknowledge me publicly, and even then, it was not fondly.”
Helen shook her head against him. “Poor, friendless you.”
Jeremy leaned away, looking at her incredulously. “I beg your pardon, whoever said I was friendless?”
She laughed and sat up. “Were you not?”
“Never!” he insisted firmly. “I have always been very popular, and very well thought of.”
“Of course, do forgive me,” she replied in a flat tone.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Helen whacked his shin with her foot, and he responded the same.
“Shh!” he scolded, though their kicks hadn’t made much noise. “Do you want to wake your trusted servant? She would be highly disapproving of our closeness, and of our gloveless hands touching, let alone doing so in such a forward way.” He looked down pointedly at their hands, resting in Helen’s lap.
“And then we would be chaperoned,” Helen moaned dramatically. “More’s the pity for our scandalous inclinations.”
Jeremy sniffed dismissively. “Speak for yourself, Miss Dalton. I’ve never had anything of the sort. A true gentleman through and through.”
She giggled and leaned against him, toying with their still-laced fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she murmured, though there was no danger of being overheard. “About this? Why did you never give me encouragement? You had to know I felt it.”
Jeremy’s lips pressed against her hair and his fingers brushed hers gently. “How could I? I was supposed to be a ridiculous fop, never serious about anything, and yet there you were… You, who could see past the charade and into my soul… It was the most disconcerting, terrifying sensation I’ve ever known. I had to be purely flirtatious with you because I was afraid of doing more. I couldn’t ignore you, couldn’t pretend I didn’t notice you, didn’t feel drawn to you, and I couldn’t go without saying something. So, I flirted, sometimes shamelessly.”
By Hook or By Rook (London League, Book 4) Page 9
