by Darcy Burke
“He seemed rather besotted when he visited with her,” Jacob said.
“Because she’s a seductress.” Father lifted his gaze heavenward. “God bless her soul.”
Fanny dropped her fork and abruptly stood. “I can’t sit here and listen to this any longer. Ivy made a mistake and trusted the wrong man, and instead of supporting her, you turned your backs on your own flesh and blood. God should bless your souls, but I fear he may not.”
Her mother gasped, and her father pounded his hand on the table. “Sit down!”
“No. I’m leaving.” She glanced at John, who stared up at her, his arm arrested in mid-motion on the way to spooning peas into his mouth. “I’ll attend your wedding tomorrow, but then I shall leave, and I won’t return. I’m to marry the Earl of St. Ives, which I didn’t wish to tell you because I knew you’d be angry. But I no longer care how you feel. Indeed, I wonder why I ever did.” She dropped her napkin onto her chair and marched from the dining room.
Her heart pounded as she dashed up the stairs. She startled Barker, who was just coming from Fanny’s room. “What’s the matter?” the maid asked, looking concerned.
Fanny went into the bedchamber. “We need to leave.”
“Now?” Barker asked. “I was just going down to dinner.”
Wincing, Fanny turned to face her. “Yes, now. I’m sorry. We’ll go into town and find something to eat at the Black Rabbit.” She hoped they had a room for her. If not, she could stay with David, as scandalous as that would be.
“Help me pack, please. I can’t stay here another moment.”
Barker touched her hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “I understand. I’ve heard how your parents are, particularly your mother.”
“They were being just awful about Ivy.” Fanny shook her head, wishing she could banish this evening from her mind. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t ever need to return.”
She’d felt a duty to be a good sister and come for John’s wedding. She didn’t feel that duty anymore. In fact, if it weren’t for seeing Patience tomorrow and being there for Mercy, she wouldn’t even bother attending the wedding.
Barker pulled the trunk from beneath the bed. “Then let’s be on our way.”
David turned the page of his well-worn copy of History of British Birds as a knock sounded on his door. At dinner earlier, the innkeeper had said he would bring up a glass of port, much to David’s appreciation.
He set the book on the bedside table and stood up from the four-poster where he’d been reclining. He’d discarded his coat and cravat, but didn’t bother donning them for the innkeeper.
Only it wasn’t the innkeeper.
“Good evening, my lord!” It was one of the other guests, a Mrs. Oglethorpe. Widowed, she was traveling back to York after visiting her sister on the coast. She was a few years older than David, with bright blonde hair and a quick laugh. She’d provided amusing companionship at dinner along with four other guests.
“I do hope I’m not intruding.” Her gaze dipped to where his shirt was open at the neck. “Mr. Lyle has offered us port and sherry downstairs. He was going to bring your port up, but I thought you’d much prefer to join us. We’re going to play cards.”
Port and cards did sound intriguing. It was that or spend the evening counting the moments until he would see Fanny tomorrow. “Let me dress properly, and I’ll be right down.”
Mrs. Oglethorpe shot another glance toward the triangle of flesh he displayed. “If you must,” she murmured before flashing him a brilliant smile. “See you downstairs!”
He closed the door and quickly put himself to rights, then joined the guests gathered in the common room. Aside from Mrs. Oglethorpe, there were two brothers—the Misters Keeling—and a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Tabor, and Mrs. Tabor’s sister, Miss Vaughn.
“Ah, here’s Lord St. Ives,” Mrs. Oglethorpe said. Her smile dripped into a frown. “We are just one woman shy of equal numbers. What a shame.”
“Was there to be dancing?” David asked, thinking he maybe ought to have stayed upstairs.
“No, but that’s a splendid idea,” she said. “I just like to have even numbers—it’s a silly thing my brain focuses upon.”
“What card game are we to play?” David approached the long dining table, where bottles of port and sherry stood near the center. He poured himself a glass of port before taking a seat.
“Loo,” Mrs. Tabor, a dark-haired woman near David’s age, answered.
“We’re playing for pennies,” Mr. Tabor said.
“I tried to make things more interesting,” Mrs. Oglethorpe said with resignation. “However, no one wanted to increase the wagering.”
“Would you like to deal, my lord?” one of the Misters Keeling asked David.
“No, you go ahead.” David sipped his port and dug out some pennies from his coat pocket.
As Mr. Keeling shuffled the cards, the door to the exterior opened. Everyone turned their attention to the new arrival, except David.
“Pardon me, is the innkeeper about?”
The sound of the familiar feminine voice drew David out of his chair. Fanny’s eyes registered recognition as she stepped into the common room, followed by her maid.
“Fan—Miss Snowden.” David bowed, catching himself before he betrayed their intimacy.
Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed rather harried, which filled him with concern. “I’m in need of a room for the evening.”
Hell and the devil. What had happened with her bloody parents? David wished they weren’t standing in the midst of so many strangers.
“I’ll fetch him,” Mr. Tabor said, rising.
“I don’t think there are any more rooms available,” Mrs. Oglethorpe said. She smiled at Fanny. “But you’re welcome to stay with me.”
All David could think was that he wanted Fanny with him. Yesterday had been a tantalizing glimpse of what it would mean to have her as his wife, and he was eager for their future to arrive.
Fanny shot a look toward David before smiling weakly at the widow. “Thank you.”
The innkeeper, Mr. Lyle, came into the common room, his gaze lighting on Fanny. “Good evening. Miss Snowden, isn’t it? Your father made that table for me.” He gestured toward where everyone sat.
“I’m in need of a room for this evening, Mr. Lyle.”
Lyle frowned. “I’m afraid I’m full for the night,” he said with regret. “You could try the Raven at the other end of town, but that’s…” He shook his head. “No, I can’t let you go there. We’ll find room. There’s a small chamber in the attic. It’s more of a storage closet, really, and we’ll have to make up a pallet on the floor, but it’s only for one night.”
“My maid is with me too,” Fanny said, gesturing to the woman behind her.
“She can stay with me,” Mrs. Oglethorpe repeated. “And we can make the pallet in my room for her maid.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Fanny said, again darting a glance toward David.
If he was interpreting her correctly, she was expressing her disappointment at not being able to speak with him. Or at least signaling that she wanted to. Good, he wanted to know what in the devil she was doing here.
“Do you have a coach?” the innkeeper asked.
“Yes, my coachman and footman have taken it to the mews.”
The innkeeper nodded. “I’ll instruct them to take your baggage to Mrs. Oglethorpe’s room, and I’ll set up your maid’s pallet. Would you care to come along, and I’ll show you upstairs?”
“Let her stay and have a drink,” Mrs. Oglethorpe said. “You’re awfully pale, dear. Sit with us for a spell and play loo.”
“I don’t know how to play loo,” Fanny said. “But I daresay a glass of port would be welcome.”
The maid whispered in Fanny’s ear, and Fanny nodded. “My maid will go up with you, Mr. Lyle,” Fanny said.
Lyle gestured for the maid to precede him, and they disappeared up the stairs.
David held a chair fo
r Fanny and, as she sat down, whispered, “Are you all right?”
She nodded at him. “I’ll explain later.”
The promise of later sped his heart rate, but he wondered how in the hell she would manage that when she was lodging with Mrs. Oglethorpe. He poured Fanny a glass of port and handed it to her, allowing his bare fingers to graze her gloved ones. It was an enticing taste, but not nearly enough to sate his hunger.
“What brings you to the Black Rabbit so late in the evening, Miss Snowden?” Mrs. Oglethorpe asked.
“I’m just visiting,” she answered vaguely, raising her glass to her mouth.
David couldn’t help but look at her lips. How he longed to be that glass of port…
“On your way somewhere?” Mrs. Oglethorpe asked.
“Yes, back to Suffolk.”
Mr. Tabor looked at David. “You’re from near Suffolk, aren’t you, my lord?” They’d discussed it at dinner.
“Yes.” He offered nothing else.
“And you are acquainted with Miss Snowden,” Mrs. Oglethorpe observed.
Because he’d called her by name when she’d entered. He’d been too surprised to see her here.
“I think I saw her here earlier,” Miss Vaughan said.
“We met yesterday,” Fanny said. “We’re both bird enthusiasts, and I loaned him a book, which I picked up earlier today.”
A neat and excellent explanation. David lifted his glass ever so slightly in her direction before taking a drink.
“Well, shall we play loo, then?” asked the Mr. Keeling who was in possession of the cards.
Mrs. Oglethorpe winked at Fanny across the table. “You can watch and learn, dear.”
Fanny watched and learned all too well, winning several pots, much to her delight. The cloud of distress cloaking her when she entered had completely dissipated by the time they broke up the game to seek their beds.
Mrs. Oglethorpe led Fanny up the stairs to her room, which was next to David’s. “We’re just ahead there, dear,” she said, pointing toward the door and allowing Fanny to go in front of her.
The widow paused at David’s door, waiting for him to stop. “I’d hoped to visit you later, but with my guest, that may not be possible.” She sighed. “Ah well, I will try.” She flashed a smile at him and didn’t wait to hear whether he would welcome her visit or not.
Bloody hell.
He caught Fanny’s eye for a moment before Mrs. Oglethorpe ushered her into the chamber. The door snapped closed, and David went into his room teeming with frustration and anxiety. Would Fanny show up at his door later? Or would Mrs. Oglethorpe? Or would neither?
He stripped down to his shirt and breeches and lay down on the bed. His attempts to read British History of Birds were a complete failure. His mind kept wandering next door as he tried to puzzle out why Fanny had shown up here tonight.
Something had to have gone very wrong with her family. She’d been concerned about causing trouble with them, which was why she’d asked him not to call. What sort of parents allowed their daughter to leave their house after dinner?
It was a silly question. She’d traveled here from Suffolk with a maid, a footman, and a coachman. She could certainly travel to an inn to spend the night.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rap on the door. He bolted upright and sent a silent prayer as to who it might be.
Slipping from the bed, he padded to the door and took a deep breath before cracking it open. “Thank God.”
He grabbed Fanny’s hand and pulled her inside. As soon as the door was closed, he turned and was instantly greeted by Fanny throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. Surprised, he pulled her close and poured all his pent-up desire into the kiss. It was several long moments before he pulled away.
“What happened to Mrs. Oglethorpe?” he asked, glancing toward her room.
“She finally fell asleep. Why did you say ‘thank God’ when I arrived?”
“Because Mrs. Oglethorpe said she would come to my room if she could get away. I was terrified you were going to be her.”
Fanny giggled. “Terrified?”
“Distraught, to say the least.” He took in her dressing gown and bare feet and tried not to think of how close she was to being naked. “Why are you here and not at your parents’ house?”
“Can we sit?”
His room was rather small, and there was just one chair at the table. Mr. Lyle had wanted to give him larger accommodation because he was an earl, but David had insisted he take the smallest room since he was by himself.
“You can take the chair,” he offered.
She went to the bed instead and indicated he should join her by patting the space beside her. He wasn’t sure how wise it was to even sit beside her there, but was powerless to resist.
“I’m afraid I lost my temper with my parents. They were talking about Ivy in the most horrid way.” She turned her body toward him, lifting one leg slightly onto the bed as she shifted position.
“What do you mean you lost your temper?”
“I told them I was marrying you.” Her nose wrinkled. “They were not pleased.”
“Did they toss you out?” David tamped down a burst of anger at the idea of her parents treating her so badly.
“No, I left. I couldn’t bear to stay under their roof another moment. I would miss the wedding tomorrow, but I want to see my friend Patience before I leave.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said, hating the anguish her parents had clearly caused. He touched her hair, which was braided and hung over her shoulder. Trailing his hand down the winding strands, he caressed the curling ends, letting them tickle his fingertips. “You don’t have to face them alone.”
She turned her head and kissed his wrist. “Thank you.” Her gaze found his. “I plan to leave directly after the ceremony.”
“We shouldn’t travel together, but I will follow you.”
“I was thinking… Can’t we pretend to be husband and wife? You couldn’t be you, of course. Not an earl, I mean.”
He laughed. “You are incomparable. How would we explain two coaches?”
“One is for our luggage?” She grinned up at him, and he surrendered to the delicious pull of her allure.
He gripped her braid and tugged gently as he cupped the other side of her neck and drew her close. He seared his lips along hers, but only for a moment before he slipped his tongue inside. She tasted of port and vibrance, and she smelled of lilies of the valley. It was a heady combination, not that he needed anything to push him to the edge of desire.
Their kisses spilled over as they sought to explore each other. The first time her tongue traced along his jawline, he let out a soft moan. Her boldness was intoxicating.
He drew his hand down her collarbone and along the swell of her breast. She inhaled sharply and arched toward him. It was all the encouragement he needed. He dipped his hand beneath her dressing gown. The thin cotton of her night rail was all that separated him from the sweet silk of her bare flesh.
“Should I go back to my room?” The question was a bare whisper.
He kissed along her neck and untied the front of her dressing down—in front of her breasts and at her waist. “If you wish.”
“I don’t wish, but what if Mrs. Oglethorpe wakes up?”
“I doubt she will, but if she does, you can say you went downstairs for…something. Or maybe you went for a walk in your sleep.”
“Or maybe I was jealous of her planning to visit you and wanted to claim you for myself.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “You didn’t know she wanted to visit me.”
“No, but I would have been jealous if I had.”
“Why? I would have turned her away. You’ve no need to feel jealous of any woman.”
Her eyes narrowed seductively. “Protective, then.” She shrugged the dressing gown from her shoulders, and the outline of her breasts as well as her nipples was clearly visible. “You’re mine.”
No words had ever stirred his desire more completely. With a growl, he laid her back on the bed and cupped her breasts. He dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling her through the fabric and wetting it completely.
She gasped and thrust her hands into his hair, holding him against her. “Oh, David.”
He blew on the fabric as her nipple tightened, then held her more securely, enslaving her to his mouth. She arched up off the bed, her body begging for more as her heart beat a rapid rhythm beneath her breast.
“Take it off,” she urged. “I want to feel you against me.”
He stopped himself from ripping the garment in two, instead whisking it up over her hips. The dressing gown became tangled up with the night rail, making him groan in frustration. She took over and removed both garments entirely, then tossed them to the floor.
Her body lay naked before him—long limbs, curved hips, a delectable dip at her navel, and the pale globes of her breasts tipped with pink roses. He ran his thumbs over those flowers, stirring them into rigid peaks. Then he tugged them, eliciting the most delicious cry from her mouth. He pitched forward and devoured the sound with his mouth and tongue.
She clasped his neck, kissing him with wild fervor. She pulled at the collar of his shirt, then moved her hands down until she found the hem. Warm fingertips grazed along his abdomen as she stroked his flesh. He tore his lips from hers and kissed a path to her breasts, laving first one and then the other, drawing moans and cries from her mouth.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and he realized she’d pushed his shirt up to his neck. He tugged it the rest of the way off, and she pulled him down on top of her so that her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest.
“I’ve wanted to feel this for so long.” She kissed his neck, his jaw, his mouth. Her hands plucked at the waistband of his breeches. “Can you take these off too?”
He pushed away from her and stripped them from his body as quickly as possible. Her gaze settled on his cock as he moved between her legs. “May I touch it?” she asked.
“Please.” He watched as she lifted from the bed and reached for him. Her fingertips grazed the tip, and blood instantly rushed to the head. Heat danced across his flesh and pooled in his gut.
