“We have to stop,” she said after a few long minutes of kissing.
“Yes, we shouldn’t keep—” he began, but she shook her head, placing her hand against his mouth.
“Not because of that. I need to—” she started, then glanced away, biting her lip. “I need to pay a visit to the trees.”
“What?” he asked, confused, then realized what she was really saying. “Oh. Right.” He hadn’t thought about the practical bodily functions they’d have to take care of while traveling.
“I’ll just go over there,” she said, twisting so she was no longer on top of him, shaking the skirts of her gown down as she did so. He missed the sight of her bare arse already.
“I’ll just wait right here,” he replied, shifting to adjust his erection. He saw her eyes dip over, then right back to his face, her cheeks flushed. Was she blushing because of what they’d just done, what she’d just said, or what he looked like at the moment?
So many things that might possibly cause embarrassment, and yet he didn’t feel ashamed at all.
In fact, he wanted to do it again, only with more energy and time.
If Ida were a different sort of woman, she might have felt awkward about admitting that she needed to tend to some lady business out in the woods. And she did feel awkward, but not about that; it was that she’d practically climbed into his lap. She had climbed into his lap. And done other things to him while he did things to her, and they were in the outdoors where anybody could see them.
And she didn’t seem to care.
So it was that she felt awkward about the lack of awkwardness she felt, which made no sense at all, which definitely bothered her. Lady Ida of the Hard and Factual Truths always made sense. Except when swept away by Lord Shortcake, who was an exciting travel companion, an excellent kisser (at least in her test experience of two kisses), and a splendid conversationalist.
She walked deeper into the woods, looking back every so often to make sure she kept her bearings. She did not want to be Lady Ida the Lost. At last, she found a quiet, shaded place and took care of her bladder, then walked back, her mind reviewing everything that had happened.
One: She’d tickled him. And then kissed him.
Two: He’d kissed her back.
Three: He’d bared her to the waist, and then she knew he’d looked, so he’d seen more of her than any other person in the entire world.
Four: She’d touched his bare chest with her bare hand, and it felt wonderful and entirely different from her own body.
Five: All of that made her more curious about what might happen next.
Six: They were still traveling together alone, and neither of them knew how long that would last.
Seven: She had no idea what might happen.
And Eight: She couldn’t wait to find out what else might happen.
“All taken care of?” he asked as she returned, his expression carefully neutral. It seemed he might be feeling awkward as well, although she didn’t know if it was because she’d had to mention something ladies normally did not discuss with gentlemen, or that they’d been indulging in some very scandalous behavior.
Either way, she thought with a shrug, it didn’t matter. At least he was being polite.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. She gathered her skirts and stepped up on the rail of the carriage, settling herself on the seat.
He swung up beside her. She found herself disappointed that he’d wrapped his cravat around his neck again; she liked being able to see his bare throat, his strong neck.
“About before,” he began, his voice strained.
“Yes, I should not have tickled you.”
He barked out a surprised laugh. “Not that. But you know that.”
“Yes. About before.”
“I—I don’t want you to feel as though you have to do anything. If you don’t want to. Just because I am here with you and everything.”
She frowned in confusion, then realized what he’d implied. “Do you think that I would ever possibly feel as though I had to do something? If I didn’t want to?” She shook her head. “You do not know me at all, Bennett.”
“Hold on, there,” he expostulated. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, it sounds as though you did.” She turned halfway on the seat to face him. “I very much like kissing you, Bennett, and I also very much like it when I touch you and you touch me. This has been an unexpected benefit to us traveling together, and it is a learning experience. For me, at least. I presume you have done all this before,” she said, waving her hands in the air between them to indicate their activity.
“Not with you,” he replied, a wry smirk on his lips. “The experience has been very different for me, I assure you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what the difference was, for curiosity’s sake, but then she realized, oddly enough, that she most definitely did not want to hear about his doing these things with any other ladies.
Was she jealous?
She’d never felt jealousy before, so she wasn’t certain, but she strongly suspected she was. But it did reassure her that he said the experience was very different when with her. Which brought her a feeling of satisfaction, one she definitely had never had before, only because he was her first kiss.
Hmm. Another surprising element of this adventure they were on—discovering emotions she didn’t know she had.
“But thank you. I didn’t mean to imply you were merely grateful. I have too much respect for your own self-worth to believe that. I just wanted to be certain.”
She waved her hand airily. Trying to maintain an attitude that wouldn’t ask too much of him, and of this situation. “Well, do not worry about it. It is quite enjoyable, and I am gaining quite a bit of knowledge I never had before.”
“So that is all it is to you? Knowledge gathering? Educational?” He sounded aggrieved, which made her surprisingly pleased.
She turned back in her seat to face forward again. “Isn’t that the ideal for a gentleman? Not to have to promise anything but reap the benefits of the activity? Neither one of us has any expectation that it means any more than it does.” Not that that made sense, but it sounded as though it did.
“Hmph,” was all he replied.
She smothered a laugh. Not that it was humorous, necessarily, but it felt wonderful to be able to take the initiative in whatever was to happen between them next.
She didn’t think he’d appreciate it if she pointed that out.
“What are you saying in yours?” Ida asked as she peered over at his paper.
Bennett shielded the letter, making a shooing gesture. “You are not allowed to comment on my letter. Not on my penmanship, my choice of words, or what I say.”
They sat at a round wooden table in a small, anonymous pub. They’d found the stationer’s, located the postbox, and had gotten ale, much to Ida’s delight.
Now they were seated beside one another writing their respective letters. Only, it seemed, his critical Ida wanted to oversee what he was writing as well.
Wait. His? No, she wasn’t his. She would never be his, entirely because she wouldn’t allow it. She was her own person, she was too exuberant and vibrant and intelligent to be in anybody else’s shadow.
She was like a meteor shower, a stunning event that one could view, but never replicate on one’s own.
She was stellar. He wished he could point out the pun to her, but the explanation would be too convoluted, and she’d likely raise one of those dark eyebrows because he took too long to get to the point. Or argue with him that a star was nothing like a meteor shower, despite both being in the sky.
She could be pedantic and argumentative, no matter how delightful he found her.
“Let me see,” she said, tugging the paper in front of her.
And persistent.
Dear Alex,
“Well, that is fine, I don’t know what you would think I would have to say about that,” she said, looking up at him with a grin. And then taki
ng another sip of ale before she continued.
Lady Ida and I are on a rescue mission.
“That will pique his interest, for certain,” she said.
I am not certain when we will return.
She drew back from the paper, her mouth twisted in disapproval.
“What?” he asked, feeling defensive. “I haven’t signed my name yet, if that is your complaint. I was just about to get to it when you snatched it from me.”
She tapped the paper, ignoring his comment. “This is the beginning and the end, but there is no middle. Where are we on a rescue mission to? Do we have enough funds, are we safe, did we plan on taking this journey together?” She shook her head. “You would not be a good novelist. It is a good thing you have a good head for business, because you cannot tease out a reader’s excitement at all.”
“Can I not?” Bennett allowed his gaze to drop to her mouth, sensing a challenge he would enjoy. That mouth he’d kissed just a few hours before. Her lips parted, and he saw her tongue dart out.
“How should I tease out the information, then?” he continued, putting his fingers on top of her hand. Starting to rub her skin gently, edging his chair closer to hers so their shoulders were only a few inches apart. He leaned over to speak in a soft whisper.
“Should I tell Alex that we have formed a particular bond while traveling together?” He heard her breath hitch. “That I am discovering hidden depths in my not-exactly sister-in-law? That when we kiss, it is like being scorched by a glorious fire?” He leaned in closer, so close he could touch her ear with his lips.
So he did.
She jumped, gripping her left hand as he continued rubbing the right.
“You are a tease,” she said in that low, husky voice. The voice he wanted to hear call his name.
He already knew she was passionate; what would she look like as she climaxed? What spots in particular would make her writhe in pleasure?
He desperately wanted to find out. But if he continued to think about it, he’d end up tossing her over his shoulder and taking her to a room, any room, to ravish her thoroughly.
And they had relatives to inform and letters to critique. He needed to focus. And not on her, or her luscious mouth, or the way she might cry out in passion.
“What will your letter say?” He drew back, but draped his left hand over the back of her chair, letting his fingers rest at the nape of her neck. There was only so much focusing he could do with her this close. “Dear Sister,” he said as he winked at her, “I have escaped the tedium of my existence with the most exciting gentleman of my acquaintance. You might be surprised to hear who it is—”
“That is an understatement,” she said wryly.
“But I assure you, he is devoted and concerned about the safety and care of my person. Particularly my—”
“Stop!” she said, biting her lip as she spoke. “Stop, or we’ll never make the post.”
He shrugged in mock obedience, returning his chair to its former place. “I will be certain to incorporate your suggestions into my letter. I do like it when you tell me what to do.”
“Oh,” she said on an intake of breath.
“You are welcome to order me to do anything you wish,” he said, noting the heightened color on her cheeks.
You are welcome to order me to do anything you wish.
The words were so mild, but the impact of them sent her mind into a tumult, her brain conjuring up all sorts of things she hadn’t realized were possible. Well, she did know they were possible—she’d seen some of Eleanor’s naughty books—but she hadn’t realized that they would pique her own interest.
“Have you finished your letter?” Bennett asked, interrupting her thoughts. Only it was him, and he was a substantial part of her thoughts, so it wasn’t necessarily interrupting. Augmenting, perhaps.
“Uh—just about,” she said, picking up her fountain pen.
What should she say? For all that she’d critiqued Bennett’s words, she had no idea how to tell Pearl everything she might need to know.
Safe.
Della.
Lord Carson.
Back soon.
She shrugged, beginning to write, hoping Pearl would be satisfied both as to her safety and to her retrieval of Della. Taking the last swallow of her ale as she wrote, feeling as though right now, in this quiet pub, with him, was the closest she had ever come to pure happiness.
That was a terrifying thought, wasn’t it? The man whom she’d promised multiple times not to marry was the one who made her feel safe, and happy, and appreciated.
Damn it, Ida. What are you doing?
She shook her head at herself, finishing the letter, folding it up as he waited, his own letter in front of him.
“You’ll appreciate that I did not critique your letter as you did mine,” Bennett said with a smile. He looked so much more casual and relaxed than she had ever noticed before—as though he’d stop shouldering, just for the moment, all the burdens he habitually carried around with him.
“That is because my letter has a plot, my lord,” she said in mock severity. “A beginning, a middle, and a satisfying ending.”
“I am sure your ending is very satisfying,” he replied in a sly tone.
She did not know specifically to what he was referring, but she could discern it was something salacious—primarily because she was starting to blush, even though she had no idea why.
“It is so much fun to tease you,” he said. And then his expression grew serious. “But of course anytime you do not wish to be teased, you will tell me? You can order me to stop as much as you can order me to not stop.”
She felt her throat tighten. That he was aware of the constraints of being her, a female, prone in this situation. That he was so very concerned about her consent, about what she might want. Or not want.
“I know that.” She stretched her hand across the table and took his. “I know that, and I thank you for it.”
He squeezed her fingers, a sincere look on his face. “Thank you.”
Chapter 10
While it can be exhilarating to embark on an adventure, it is important to keep in mind your ultimate purpose, whatever that might be.
Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler
“So your sister doesn’t know you are coming.”
Ida shook her head as she chewed.
Bennett waited impatiently for her to finish. Why would anything be simple with this woman?
But if it were simple, you wouldn’t be here.
Fine. He wished it were less complicated, then.
“She doesn’t. But I have a plan.” Ida placed her spoon down on the table. They were eating at the same pub they’d written their letters in—it turned out it also served as the local inn, and so they’d managed to hire two rooms for the evening.
The food wasn’t as good as Mrs. Hastings’s meat pies, they both agreed, but it was warm and filling.
The staff had lit a fire in the fireplace near where they were seated, and the warmth of the fire along with the strength of the ale and the hot food combined to make Bennett feel as comfortable as he thought he might have ever been.
Although that could have been attributed to her as well. But actually no—he wasn’t comfortable around her, necessarily; he was uncomfortable, but in a very pleasant way. Keenly aware of how passionate she was, what noises she made in the back of her throat when they kissed.
How she snapped back at him, not deferring just because he was who he was. She was most definitely not a Carson-hunter, and yet he felt as though he’d been ensnared. In her intelligence, her refreshing honesty, her vibrant enthusiasm for ale and meat pies and adventure.
“What is your plan, then?” Bennett inquired.
“I will find out where she is in Haltwhistle. Then I will persuade her to return with me. She has to, she cannot raise Nora without her child knowing who her relations are.”
Bennett wanted to ask if the duke and duchess felt the same, only he
thought he knew the answer.
“What if she refuses?”
Ida’s mouth tightened. “I do not anticipate her saying no.”
“Like you didn’t anticipate me coming along for the journey, or you going on the journey at all at that particular time?”
She glared at him, and he raised his eyebrows in question in return. A standoff that ended when she threw her hands up in the air.
“Fine. She could refuse. That is a possibility. One I do not believe will happen.”
“As long as you admit you can be wrong, hedgehog.”
“Many more times than before, thanks to you, leopard,” she retorted.
He grinned, picking up his spoon and eating some more of the stew. The warmth of the fire, the warmth of her personality, the open-ended question of how long it would take and what would happen when they got there. He had truly escaped, hadn’t he?
But he knew he couldn’t escape forever. Eventually he would have to return. Eventually.
Meanwhile, he had this moment to savor. Ale to drink, and a gorgeous woman to look at and speak with.
“How would you go about persuading her? If you were me, that is?” she asked.
And now he felt even warmer—that Ida the Intelligent was asking his opinion on what to do was astounding. He knew she wouldn’t ask unless she truly wanted to know. And she wouldn’t want to know unless she trusted him, and his opinion.
He thought for a moment, keenly aware that he couldn’t just toss out any idea. That he had to think about it, because she’d honored him by asking.
“I suppose I would tell her how much you and her other sisters miss her. That family means more than reputation.”
She nodded, and he felt encouraged to continue.
“That her daughter should have that same sense of family. Also that your sister Olivia has access to all of Edward’s money—which is substantial—so she wouldn’t have to worry about her or her daughter’s future.”
“I don’t think Della will want to be dependent on anyone,” Ida commented.
“But at least knowing it is there, if she does need it, would be reassuring.”
The Lady Is Daring Page 11
