But now you are a widow.
Eve ignored the taunting voice in her mind.
And you haven’t been kissed in over a decade!
She pushed her shoulders back and stared into the distance.
The road was, indeed, more sludge than anything else. She’d thoroughly ruined her boots by now and doubted Lucy could repair her dress which was now frayed and muddied at the hem. Hopefully the traveling coach would pass through tomorrow.
Neither she nor Mr. Waverly spoke another word for what felt like hours, making slow but steady progress. And then, just when she couldn’t stand another second of his silence, a sign came into view.
Aged and worn, nonetheless, it directed them off the road toward The Pig and Goat Inn. Not too promising, but shelter. Water. Safety.
Greater relief than she’d imagined, swept through her. They would not be forced to spend the night in the outdoors after all. Each time they’d rounded a corner and come upon more open road, her worry had increased. Despite hiding it, Niles was obviously in pain. She didn’t know what she’d do if he worsened.
She glanced at him in time to catch an expression of relief crossing his features, as well.
“I shall certainly sleep better than I did last night.” She broke the silence. Exhaustion would ensure the rest her body craved. She’d lain awake the night before thinking of Jean Luc. But now, after tumbling down the side of a mountain, his death didn’t seem quite the traumatic event that it had initially.
Was traumatic the proper word for his death? His life had been traumatic. Their marriage had been disappointing. His death was…
Final.
That’s what it was. Final. No more need to fear him. She’d stopped hoping he’d changed ages ago. But he was the father of her daughters and now he was dead.
They made their way around some brush, and the inn appeared by the side of the road. Simple, unadorned, nothing special about it at all, but it might as well have been heaven. Niles held the door wide so that she could precede him inside, and a few minutes later, he was handing her a key.
“Room number three. He’s sending his wife up in a few minutes with dry clothes for you to change into.” He spoke impassively, back to being Mr. Waverly. Disappointment bothered her.
Surely, he hadn’t forgotten? And exactly how pathetic was it that she’d thought of practically nothing else. Could she blame it on the rain? Shock from having her carriage go tumbling into a ravine?
“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her front. “About earlier—”
“Forgotten.” He shoved both hands into his pockets, answering her unspoken question.
Yes. Yes. That would be best, would it not? Put it behind them, as though the kiss never occurred?
“Has John been here?”
Niles grimaced. “Not yet. I imagine if the horses took off in another direction, they might have headed back toward London. He says they have a gig we can rent. I’d prefer we allow the mud to dry, however, before continuing on.”
“Of course.” She glanced at the key in her hand. “What room are you in? That is, in case I have need of you.” Being with him and counting on him like no other made her feel like a young girl. Much as she’d first been with Jean Luc before…
With her man of business of all things!
“I’ll be in the tap room.” Again, his face impassive. His demeanor cool. Did he intentionally not want her to know which room he would be sleeping in? Or—
“You didn’t hire a room for yourself?”
“All full up, Mrs. Mossant.”
“Oh, don’t ‘Mrs. Mossant’ me.” Were all men this foolish? “And with you being hurt!”
“Eve—”
“Come with me. You need to rest. Did you think I didn’t realize your ribs have been paining you? Did you tell them who you were? Did you give them both of our names?”
“Just my own.”
“Well, then. They’ll have to imagine I am your wife or some such nonsense. You need a place to sleep and I need to not feel guilty for your injury. It’s not as though I’m some innocent intent upon protecting my virtue.” Eve would not sleep a wink knowing Niles was trying to sleep on a wooden bench for the night.
“I’ll find a cot.”
“Nonsense.” She grasped him by the arm and pushed him in the direction of the stairway.
He was surprisingly compliant. The pain must have worn him down more than he’d let on.
“Eve—” He made one last attempt to argue but seemed short of breath.
“Hush.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sharing
As much as this new turn of events bothered him, Niles ceased resisting her after she’d removed his coat and then coaxed him onto the bed. His entire body ached now. Not just his chest or his side. Every blasted breath he took pained him.
Damn ribs.
He watched from half closed lids as she put a candle atop a dresser and then one beside the bed. Thank God they’d arrived when they did. Night was falling.
He should get up and leave now.
She was his employer. He had no business in here.
A knock sounded at the door. Must be the innkeep’s wife with something for Eve to change into. He closed his eyes and drifted off to the sounds of Eve chatting with the woman.
When he next awoke, he required a moment to remember is whereabouts.
Ruined carriage. Mud. Rain.
Kiss.
This time when he watched her, the candlelight glowed warm upon her skin. She was sitting on a hard chair, a book she’d borrowed from downstairs in hand, staring off into the darkness. She ought to be the one in bed. She ought to be the one resting comfortably, sleeping.
In their normal course of business, he’d easily managed to suppress his attraction to her, but after today...
And now seeing her in nothing but a too-large cotton night rail with her shining chestnut hair flowing over her shoulders and across her softly rounded breasts… her desirability further strained his self-control.
Such a woman would not be a burden, as a younger lady might. No, Eve Mossant would present other challenges. The sort of challenges that made a man want to wake up each morning.
Because, oddly enough, she exuded strength. She inspired confidence.
He closed his eyes again, shutting her out. He’d not allow his thoughts to travel in such a direction. He’d done that once before, with a lady, no less.
Lord Peabody’s daughter, Lady Katherine.
Niles would do well to remind himself of the dreams he’d built around her. He’d been all of twenty-one, and she’d just turned eighteen. She’d come to London for her debut. Throughout the years prior, they’d been friends. As children.
But she’d been different that spring, as had he. And she spent hours in the garden, confiding her disdain for the young bucks of the ton to Niles. None of them had inspired her love. They were too weak, too silly. She’d flirted outrageously with him, touching his arm, glancing at him from beneath those lush lashes of hers. He’d held out for less than two weeks before succumbing against his better judgement.
Ah, but the excitement of a secret love affair.
They’d done nothing more than share a few amorous embraces, but those had been enough to inspire love on his part.
He’d begun dreaming of a life with her. They could run off together. He’d find a way to provide for her, and eventually a family.
By the end of the season, he’d formulated quite the plan.
And then she’d told him she had become engaged to a young viscount. She was to be married in the summer.
Niles had thought she was joking. It seemed impossible that she could live her life without him.
Even now, he disparaged himself for his naivete.
He’d not make such a mistake again.
He needed to leave Eve’s room now. Already, that kiss…
It caused his heart to ache along with all the other aching muscles plaguing him.
/> “Niles?” She spoke softly. He opened his eyes to see her studying him, holding a cup of something. He’d not heard her cross the room to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “Can you drink? I wondered if you might want to eat something. I had some bread and cheese delivered earlier. And some whiskey. And willow bark powder. You need something to ease your pain.”
“Eve.” The word sounded hoarse. He ought to be taking care of her. “How long have I been asleep?” His body screamed at the idea of sitting up.
“Just a few hours.” She touched his forehead with her fingertips. “You’ve a fever.”
She looked like an angel, kneeling there, dressed head to toe in white. Niles managed to lift his hand enough to touch the curling ends of her hair. He’d wanted to touch her hair for a long time now.
Silky and soft. What would it feel like on his face? On his chest?
“Drink this.” She was bending over him now, holding the cup to his lips. The scent of lemon and something floral surrounded him with feminine comfort.
He didn’t want to disappoint her and so forced himself to sit up enough to swallow most of the liquid. The willow bark left a bitterness on his lips.
And the sitting had sent shards of pain knifing through his chest and side. When he inhaled sharply, his reward was another stab of pain.
Hell and damnation. “Whiskey?” If he could down a half a bottle, that might relieve some of it.
She offered him a spoonful.
At least he wasn’t required to try to sit up again.
“I believe you’ve done something to your ribs.”
“I have. Not the first time. Nothing to be done.” If he remembered correctly, the injury had required nearly a month to heal.
“Rest then.” She spoke firmly. “And you’ll need out of these clothes.”
At some time, she must have removed his boots. Damn, he’d have made a mess of the bed linens with the mud on his trousers.
Efficient hands were unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Get these off and I’ll give you more whiskey,” she murmured, apparently sensing his reluctance.
Oh, agony and some twisted delight on his part. He’d not bargained on the feel of her hands skimming his bare skin while she managed to tug his shirt over his head
“It is bruised and swollen here.” Careful fingertips grazed the now exposed area along his side. “And here.” She touched the spot just below his left breast. “Let’s remove your trousers, Mr. Waverly.”
“Damnit, woman.” Niles was not used to such helplessness. “I can manage.”
“It’s not as though I’ve never seen—”
“Eve,” he warned. This was not the way he’d imagined getting naked with this woman.
Smirking a little, she turned around.
Niles fumbled with his falls and kicked them off his legs. She barely gave him time to slip beneath the woolen blanket before turning around. Not that he was modest but, God dammit, she was his blasted employer!
He dropped back against the pillow, his breathing shallow.
Fine man of business he was turning out to be.
Eve worried at her bottom lip. How had the man hiked all that distance with such an injury? She doubted he would have said anything if she hadn’t asked. He’d have slept in his damp clothing, most likely on a wooden bench, hoping to leave her none the wiser.
Men!
When she’d explained to the innkeeper’s wife that her… husband… had injured himself, the woman had offered her some tincture with opium. Eve had flatly refused. She’d not be any part of ruining her Mr. Waverly.
She was willing, however, to spoon whiskey down his gullet. He’d gone quite pale after disrobing, and she hated how shallow his breathing sounded.
She’d dribbled nearly half the bottle of whiskey into his mouth and enjoyed a few warming sips herself.
When had she last been alone with a naked man? She laughed at herself and took another swallow of the spicy liquid.
Feeling unusually bold, she trailed her hand from the base of his throat nearly to his navel.
She remembered that her husband had worn padding to simulate the physique that was all too real on this man.
There was nothing false about Niles Waverly’s masculinity. Was her mouth watering? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eve!
Pale skin stretched taut across his chest. Even at rest, the skin on his arms hid sinewy chords, as did his abdomen.
She reluctantly drew back her hand and studied the stubble appearing on his chin and jaw. Dark circles etched beneath his eyes, but the rest of his face flushed with fever.
“I’m going to call for a physician.” She wobbled slightly as she rose to her feet.
“No, Eve.” Niles grasped hold of her arm and slanted a hooded glance in her direction. Drunken or pain ridden, she wasn’t sure which. “I’ve injured my ribs before. Nothing they can do. Now–Lie–down–Bissside–me... You–sleep–too…” His normally eloquent speech quite deteriorated.
“Oh, Niles!” There was not much room left on the small bed, but it appealed a great deal more comfortable than the floor.
He tugged at her with surprising strength, considering his condition.
“The candles,” she chastised him.
His hand relaxed, and Eve left his side to snuff them out.
No one would ever know that she’d slept in the same bed as her man of business. And really, the floor would be quite uncomfortable. Likely Niles himself would forget if she awoke early enough.
She took one last swallow of whiskey for courage before lowering herself onto the surprisingly soft mattress. Odd, that she found the mattress to be soft. Inn bedding usually left a great deal to be desired. Perhaps it was just that her body was so very, very tired.
She tucked a hand beneath her chin, and turned onto her side, careful not to make contact with the large but injured man on the bed beside her.
“Are you awake?” Being alone didn’t normally bother her. She’d been alone, but for her children, most of her life.
“Hrgmm,” Niles mumbled in answer.
Now that she was lying down, her mind came wide awake. With Rhoda married and the girls at school, she’d been alone but not...widowed.
“I won’t cry on you. I promise. I just. It’s just that.” She struggled to express what she was feeling. “I absolutely hated Jean Luc in the end. He was a horrid person, as you well know. But apparently I sat alone with myself too long this evening. Too much time for thinking. But now, having done so, I cannot help but feel as though something is missing in my life.” By this point, Eve figured she was mostly talking to herself.
What was missing in her life?
Her identity?
“It’s almost as though I’m no longer a whole person. The girls are growing up, Rhoda’s married. I no longer have my mother, really, or the home I grew up in. Jean Luc’s cousin has very likely already arrived at Pebble’s Gate to take ownership.” She hadn’t acted as the mistress there for years, nor would she again. It was all so final.
She stared at the side of Niles’ head, just as though he was listening raptly to her every word.
“I’m no longer a wife, and yet I have a great deal of my life left to live. At least, I hope I do. But as who? Who am I now?” The question taunted her even as she spoke it into the quiet night.
“Eve Mossant.” Apparently, he’d not dozed off.
“What?”
“You asked who you are. You’re Eve Mossant.”
And then he surprised her by turning his head and meeting her eyes. “Only now, you are free to be whoever you wish to be.” He gazed at her with stern but hazy eyes. As though chastising her for questioning her own strength.
“It’s silly, I know. To be afraid.” The man was going to believe her completely daft by the time they arrived at their destination. He probably already did.
But instead of looking annoyed by her, he reached one arm up and pulled her closer to him. “You’re not silly, Eve. And your fear is only natural.”
Why were tears welling behind her closed eyelids now? She’d just promised him that she would not cry again.
It was the sympathy. And the comfort. She was not used to it, especially from a man.
“There were times when I wished I’d never married. But then I wouldn’t have had Rhoda or Coleus or Holly.” Her daughters brought her so much joy.
“You’re a good mother, Eve. Not many women would have found the means to protect their daughters as you have.”
His words brought her some comfort. But she’d only done what was necessary.
“What of you? Do you ever wish you’d married? Had a family?” She didn’t want to talk about herself any longer. But she was only met with his deep, even breathing.
Eve relaxed into the side of Niles’ very solid form. She could not remember ever falling asleep in her husband’s arms. She might have been a great deal lonelier over the past decade if she had.
The heat of his body mixed with hers. The bedcovers cocooned them in a sanctuary she had not known existed. She felt safe, protected, connected.
And she rather liked it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Morning
In the normal course of his days, Niles didn’t require a great deal of sleep. Usually he performed most efficiently with less than five hours, and often did so on four.
Today, however, would not be one of them.
Although a bright light filtered through the curtains, and he had details to attend to in order to organize the remainder of their journey, he made no effort to move.
His ribs hurt worse now than they had yesterday.
Furthermore, a warm, pliant woman was curled up beside him.
Eve. He barely remembered the confessions she’d shared before he’d fallen asleep. Anger stirred in him at the thought that this woman was feeling lost.
She mumbled a few unintelligible words and buried her face against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his chin and her sweet scent wafted into his nostrils.
A woman such as her deserved so much more than she’d been handed in marriage.
Second Chance Love: A Regency Romance Set Page 13
