Christie Kelley

by Every Night Im Yours

  Banning stared down at the beautiful woman asleep on his lap. How could he have told her he loved her? He was a foolish bastard to think words of love would have any effect on her. She’d never wanted marriage, and he had known that long before he offered himself up to her. Even though she’d spoken those words of love to him, he was certain it was as she said—duress.

  Damn. But her words didn’t change anything. He would still marry her and just put love behind him. Love only complicated matters and led to smart men doing foolish things. He would just treat this as a business arrangement. As in any business arrangement, everyone had a price. He just had to determine her price, and he doubted it pertained to money. He twirled a strand of tawny hair around his index finger. As he released the curl, it sprang back into place.

  There were several options. He could compromise her publicly. The ensuing scandal would force her hand. He knew she enjoyed her life socializing with her friends and the ton. She would marry him to save her reputation.

  Or would she?

  She was as stubborn as his own sister, and he knew Jennette would never succumb to such coercion.

  Perhaps ruining her wasn’t the best option.

  If she were pregnant, she would marry him to give their child his name and all that went with it. He smiled at the thought of Avis carrying his baby. Or even better, the thought of making love to her over and over until she did carry his child.

  Of course, knowing Avis, she would be just as likely to run off to a different country to avoid marrying him. She was a very independent woman and had the means to live anywhere she pleased.

  He could always court her until she gave in under his constant barrage of flowers, poetic love letters, and stolen kisses. However, he might possibly be the world’s worst poet.

  Dammit!

  How would he convince Avis to marry him? For once in his life, he hadn’t any ideas. She was the most stubborn, passionate, intriguing, and beguiling woman he had ever met. Even now, after their disagreements this afternoon, he wanted to wake her up and make love to her again and again until she realized just how much he loved her.

  He continued to dwell on his situation for hours, until the carriage rolled to a stop at the inn. With the time that had passed, he should have been able to produce one decent idea, but still he had none. Perhaps one more night together would help his cause—one room, one night with her before they had to return to civilization.

  “Wake up,” he whispered, careful not to jar her.

  She groaned, twisting her head until it rested against his hard cock. “Not yet.”

  “We’re at the inn.”

  She came awake with a start. Sitting up, she glanced around taking note of her surroundings. “Already? I only slept for—”

  “Three hours, maybe four.”

  “Oh.”

  “I shall secure us a room while you straighten up.”

  “Two rooms, Selby.” Her voice brooked no denial. So much for one more night with her.

  He climbed down and strolled toward the inn, noticing that the area seemed to be teeming with people. Strange, given that it was nearly nine in the evening.

  “Welcome back, milord,” Mr. Owens said enthusiastically.

  Banning leaned against the desk. “We would prefer two rooms tonight.”

  Mr. Owens shook his head. “I’m sorry, milord. Between the duke’s death requiring people to return to town and the exodus of people leaving London for the summer, I have only one room left.”

  Well, she wouldn’t be pleased with this outcome. Now they would have to sneak her in undetected by whoever happened to be staying here too.

  “Very well, one room then.” He gave a cursory look around and noticed two people who gave him a quick nod of acknowledgment. Somehow, he would have to slip her inside.

  “Do you have a back staircase?” he asked the innkeeper.

  “Yes,” Mr. Owens answered. Comprehension dawned on his face. “Of course, milord. Bring the gel around back and we’ll spirit her upstairs.”

  “No one must see her.”

  Mr. Owens nodded.

  Banning returned to the carriage thankful that no one was attempting to engage him in conversation. He opened the door and jumped back inside. Avis had taken the time to put her bonnet on and straighten her dress.

  “This is not going to be easy,” he started.

  “Why?” she asked with unease lacing her voice.

  “The place is teeming with people. I arranged to have you enter through the kitchen and walk up the back stairs.”

  Her face paled. “So I’m no better than a servant now, or a serving wench. Am I here to service your needs, milord?”

  “Avis,” he warned, “would you rather risk your reputation and enter via the front door? It wouldn’t bother me.”

  “Of course not.” She sighed. “I’m just a bit ill-tempered this evening.”

  “Come along now. Pull your veil down and hunch over as if you are ill. That way no one will see your face. Anyone who sees us will think I’m assisting Jennette inside.”

  “Jennette! She is a good five inches taller than I am. No one would make that mistake.”

  “Shall we?” he asked, impatience threading through his voice.

  “Of course, milord.”

  “Would you stop calling me that?” Damn, the woman was exasperating. “I almost like you calling me a beast better.”

  They wound their way to the back of the inn, passing the herb garden and dodging the chickens pecking for food. The kitchen bustled with activities as the cooks finished preparing the evening meals. Pots clanged and dishes clunked onto the table as silverware chimed when tossed onto the waiting trays. No one seemed to take undue notice of two strangers walking through.

  “Right this way, milord,” Mr. Owens said by the staircase.

  Mr. Owens led them up to the second floor and looked around the hallway before waving them forward. The room was only a few feet from the staircase. Banning breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him.

  “Am I to presume we are sharing a room again?” Avis asked, removing her bonnet. Long spiral strands that had escaped her chignon framed her face.

  A slow burning desire spread to his loins. She hadn’t sounded unduly upset with the notion of sharing a room with him once more. A sensation so strong he could barely keep from pulling her into his arms.

  “Yes,” Banning replied. “The inn is full. We were very fortunate that Mr. Owens had a room left at all.”

  She nodded. “Please tell me he’ll bring us some food?”

  “Of course, you must be hungry. You barely ate a thing all day. While you slept, I ate the meal Mrs. Hathaway had packed for us.”

  “I couldn’t have stomached anything then.”

  “Are you certain you’re up to it now? I’ve heard tales of women who are sick their entire pregnancy,” he teased, just to see her face color.

  Instead of retorting, she took a seat in a worn, green chair by the fireplace and crossed her arms over her chest. He removed his waistcoat and untied his cravat. As he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, she stared at him from the corner of her eyes.

  “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered tightly. “If I sleep tonight, I’ll never be able to rest in the carriage tomorrow. I believe I shall write. If you don’t mind the candlelight, that is.”

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  They ate a quiet supper in their room. Unlike the last time they were here, the meal tasted like dust and Avis rushed through her supper as if she couldn’t stand being so close to him.

  She retired to the small table and brought out paper, her quill, and ink. Banning stripped off the rest of his clothes, noting how her posture straightened as each garment landed on the floor. He almost smiled. Instead, he lay on the bed and attempted to sleep.

  Avis spent the night staring blankly at the paper on the table. She wanted to write. She needed to write. But no words came forth. Her
characters were exceedingly quiet tonight, refusing to tell her what to put down on paper. Or maybe she couldn’t hear them over Banning’s snores.

  Unable to contain herself, she sneaked a glance at him. Dark whiskers extended from his right ear to his left. She wanted to reach out and caress the hairs, feel their bristly roughness again. She didn’t dare. She had caused this rift and there was no mending it.

  He wouldn’t want a woman who might strike him when he angered her. He definitely wouldn’t marry a woman who might hurt an innocent child.

  As morning dawned, the paper still lay blank. Avis had spent most of the night watching him sleep. Captivated by him. Tears fell silently, burning her cheeks with self-damning clarity. She didn’t deserve him. Some other woman would be his wife and raise his children, while she would watch from afar…alone.

  She wiped away the vestiges of her tears.

  “Wake up,” she called to him. “We need to eat and continue our journey.”

  Banning groaned. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  He rolled over onto his stomach and put the pillow over his head. “Go away.”

  “I need food.”

  He mumbled something from under the pillow that sounded like “More than you do me.” Surely, he didn’t believe that. She needed him more than she could ever admit to anyone.

  Banning pushed the pillow off his head and tossed the covers to one side. His damned cock had heard her voice and readied for the usual morning lovemaking. Not today, or possibly ever again.

  Bloody hell. His life was a mess. He stood and stretched, giving her a full body view of just what she would be missing. Based on the slight gasp he heard, she’d taken notice.

  He dressed quickly, but he did note the disappointment in her eyes as his trousers covered his erection. Good. She deserved to be frustrated. He certainly was.

  “I shall go down and order a breakfast tray,” he said, walking toward the door.

  He took the front stairs down to the dining room. He ordered a large breakfast and decided to wait for the tray. He glanced about the room. Several acquaintances nodded at him. He would have to sneak Avis out the back door again.

  “Lord Selby!”

  Damn. Miss Olivia Roebuck, the biggest thorn in his side this Season, rushed over to him. Her mother followed quickly behind.

  “Lord Selby, what a coincidence running into you here,” she said excitedly. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I’m returning from my estate in Southwold. I just received word of the Duke of Kendal’s death.”

  She flipped an ironed curl back from her face. “That is why we must return also. But it will be nice to have another chance to socialize with my peers.”

  Before she could say anything else foolish, one of the serving girls came up with a tray for him. “Milord, do you wish me to take this up to your w—”

  “No,” he interrupted before she could say the word wife. The last thing he needed was either gossipy Roebuck interfering with his life. “I shall take the tray upstairs myself.”

  The girl handed him the tray with a nod and returned to the kitchen.

  “My, that is a lot of food for one person,” Miss Roebuck said. Her mother frowned but nodded just the same.

  “Is your sister with you?” Mrs. Roebuck asked.

  Now that was a question. If he lied and said yes, they might find out exactly where Jennette had been—at Lord Durham’s country party. If he said no, they would think he was a glutton. Gluttony won.

  “No,” he finally replied. “You must excuse me. I should eat while the food is warm.”

  “You may join us,” Miss Roebuck offered, batting her golden eyelashes at him.

  “I really must not. I have some papers I need to review before I leave. Good day.”

  The women mumbled their replies as he walked back upstairs. Avis really didn’t need to know that the Roebucks were here. She might become aggravated thinking they might see her with him. It was far better to keep this quiet.

  He entered the room slowly. She had changed into a blue traveling gown, fixed her hair, and sat ramrod straight in the chair by the window. She turned her head as he walked in.

  “The dining room is full of people. Unfortunately, some we both know.”

  “Dare I guess, it’s the back door for me again?” she asked bitterly.

  “Unless you prefer we walk down the front stairs together.”

  She blasted him a glare. “I do not believe we shall do that.”

  He shrugged. “I thought not.”

  Olivia Roebuck excused herself from the dining table. “I need to speak with the proprietor to inquire on my glove. I should hate to think I had lost one of my best gloves here.”

  “I shall go with you then,” her mother said, stuffing more eggs in her mouth.

  “No, Mother. You need to finish your breakfast.” Her mother loved her food, to excess. “The desk is just over there,” she said, pointing toward the hall. “I will be within sight the entire time.”

  “Very well,” her father replied. He also seemed to be in no mood to miss a meal.

  Olivia rose from her seat and proceeded to the desk. That disgusting Mr. Owens sat behind the counter, sorting through papers. The one thing she needed was right on top.

  “Miss Roebuck, is there something I can do for ye?”

  “Oh, Mr. Owens,” she said in a wispy voice as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. All men loved when she did that. Except the one man she wanted more than any other. “I lost my silk glove here. Could you look around and see if any of your maids took it? By accident, of course.”

  “They dam—darned well better hope they didn’t take one of yer precious gloves.”

  “Please,” she begged prettily.

  He stared at the cleavage she showed by leaning over the tall desk and pressing her arms to the sides her breasts. It must have worked.

  “Of course. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  He walked back toward the kitchens, giving her just a moment to twirl the register around and glance down. She scanned the list but could not find Selby’s name. She continued through the past few days until her finger paused by Talbot. That was his surname, but why would he use that instead of his title. Her eyes widened in realization.

  Mr. and Mrs. Talbot.

  Lord Selby must have a woman with him. Her mind wheeled with the possibilities. A slow cat-like smile tilted her lips up as a plan started to form. An excellent plan. But she would need an accomplice to complete the deed, and after a moment of thought, she knew just the woman who could help. The one woman who despised Selby, the most proper of all the spinsters in her little club—Miss Avis Copley.

  With Miss Copley’s unknowing assistance, her plot would work perfectly. Olivia stifled a laugh. And she would be Lady Selby before the end of the summer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Good evening, my lord,” Battenford said.

  “Banning!” Jennette shouted from the top of the stairs. She raced down the marble stairs and threw herself into his arms. “I am so glad you’re home.”

  “Well, this is an unusual welcome.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. “It has been a very dreadful week.”

  “How are Lady Elizabeth and her sisters?” he asked, removing his gloves and hat. Handing them to his butler, he moved toward the salon. He poured a brandy for them both and shoved away the memories of doing the same with Avis.

  “They are as well as can be expected. I think poor Elizabeth is the worst. At least her sisters have their husbands and families, while she has no one now.”

  Jennette reached for the brandy snifter and took a long draught. Unlike Avis, his sister had no issues drinking brandy.

  “Well, that is to be expected,” he said, giving her a pointed look. “It is one of the reasons I want you to marry. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  She waved his hand at him in dismissal. “I do have my friends. Although, that is another reason why I�
��m quite upset.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s Avis. She told her butler she’d decided to go away with Elizabeth. But Elizabeth joined her cousin at Durham’s country party. No one has seen Avis in close to a fortnight.” She bit down on her bottom lip.

  Well, not quite no one. “She probably ensconced herself in a small village to write for a few weeks. She will most likely show up any day.” Or minute.

  “I hope you are correct. I am considering hiring a Bow Street Runner to investigate. What has me worried is that she hates to travel. It makes her dreadfully ill. I had to beg her to attend the Kesgrave party with me in a fortnight.”

  A shot of disappointment ran through him. He’d only been teasing her about the pregnancy, knowing it was too soon to know. Still, a part of him would have been quite pleased if it were true.

  “Don’t hire anyone just yet. She’s bound to come around.”

  A footman entered the room and handed a message to Jennette. She unfolded the note and smiled. Looking up at him, she laughed. “You were right. I asked one of Avis’s footmen to inform me of her return. It appears she has arrived home this very evening.”

  “Indeed.” He drained his brandy and stood to take his leave. “I believe I shall retire early. Goodnight, Jennette.”

  “Hmm, goodnight, Banning. I must inform Avis about the duke’s death.”

  “She knows.” His feet stopped moving. He hadn’t just said those words in front of his inquisitive sister.

  “How could she possibly know?”

  He tried to keep the heat from creeping across his face, but it didn’t seem to work. “How could she not know? Everyone in England is talking about it, even at the inn where I stayed. No doubt that is what drew her back to town.”

  “Perhaps you are right.”

  He’d best leave before he let anything else slip. Refusing to look back at his sister, he strode from the room and up to his bedroom. He’d never felt so utterly disgusted with everything in his life. He never understood how people could whine about life being so difficult; life had been easy, until he decided to marry Avis.

  The idea that she didn’t want to wed made no sense. He could give her everything. It should be obvious to her how well they suit, in bed and out. Her writing wasn’t the issue as he’d made it perfectly clear he would never stop her. What of companionship? Did it mean nothing to her? He was certain it did. He had seen the looks on her face when they walked hand in hand on the beach, and when they worked on her story in bed. She was happy, dammit.