Only Marriage Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  Memories of Juliet across the dinner table in the candlelight, of their interlude on the sofa with her beautiful shoulders and breasts, her soft, sweet lips and wickedly tempting tongue assailed him so suddenly he took a step backward and bumped into the bed. His mouth dried but managed an answer. “I will have breakfast ordered for an hour from now, if that suits you? Afterward perhaps I can assist you with your trunk. I hope to be on the road no later than nine.”

  Her wide smile crinkled her eyes. She was planning something. He’d lay a year’s pay on it. Pray God he had the fortitude to withstand her.

  * * * *

  Torches and lanterns dotted the walls around the inn yard at Coalville as the carriage came to a halt for the final time that day. From the shadows, hostlers appeared to take the exhausted horses into the stables. Amiable jumped down and extended his hand to help his charge descend. The yard sloped somewhat, causing the drop from the step to the ground to be more substantial than usual.

  Juliet hesitated, glancing from the carriage step to him.

  Amiable shook his head, grasped her about the waist, and pulled her toward him. He bit back a groan as her body pressed against his, then slid full length down him, setting every nerve afire.

  Steady. This woman had tried to break his resolution all day. He damn well wouldn’t let her do so now. He took a deep breath and offered his arm. God, but he was surely a doomed man.

  They had not left Towcester until the noon bell had rung, making it impossible to reach Coalville before dark. He had advocated stopping earlier, in Coventry where they changed horses and accepted a late luncheon.

  Juliet, however, had been adamant about pressing on.

  He had ridden a good part of the day, for the weather had been fair. Still, as the light faded into dusky pinks and mellow purples, he reluctantly joined her in the carriage. It would be folly to ride in the gathering darkness. Equal folly, of course, to ride inside with her, but then this whole affair had a stamp of inevitability on it.

  He took little comfort from the fact that Roberts and George rode directly above them, though he smiled at the thought of calling on them for help in fending off Juliet. To her credit, she had barely glanced at him the entire time they sat opposite one other. Neither did she speak, other than to greet his entrance into the carriage.

  Perhaps she brooded, worrying over Glynis. She might be praying for the girl. Was Juliet of a religious disposition? So much he did not know about her. If she continued in this downcast manner, tomorrow he would ride some of the day with her and engage her in conversation to take her mind off the maid. His knight once again summoned to rescue her damsel.

  Amiable entered the bustling coaching inn, crowded this time of night with all manner of travelers, and shouldered his way through the boisterous throng in search of the proprietor. He spied the man on the far side of the taproom and led Juliet toward him.

  “My sister and I require rooms for the night, sir.” A sudden bone-tired weariness assaulted him. The strain of the journey and the stress of his proximity to Juliet were taking their toll. He glanced at her.

  She looked weary as well. She had coped with the same stresses and strains. Her anxiety about Glynis had likely drained her even further.

  He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Not too much longer, my dear, and you can rest. Today has been a trial, I know.”

  Her grateful nod was arrested by the innkeeper’s terse reply, “There’s ay but one room left, sir. You’ll have to make do with that I’m afraid.”

  Amiable’s smile froze. Damn her. He swiveled his gaze to Juliet, who stared back at him innocently.

  “I suppose then, brother, we will have to share.” Her brows were drawn down, but her eyes sparkled with a gleam of triumph.

  Chapter 13

  Amiable remained silent until they were alone in their room, bags deposited and dinner ordered. Juliet crossed to the washstand, stripped off her gloves, and proceeded to remove the day’s grime from her hands and face. Waiting for the explosion.

  “This is your fault, Juliet.”

  She’d expected that accusation, but his outraged tone hurt just the same. “I know it is, Amiable. I am sorry.”

  By the surprised look on his face, he seemed taken aback by her lack of denials and no offer of excuses. She had none to give. She had known if they stopped in Coventry most likely more than one room would be available. The gamble, however, that a late arrival in Coalville would leave only one room for their needs had been too good to resist. They would be expected to share a room, being brother and sister. The risk had paid off beautifully, though with the advent of Amiable’s sullen face, some of her joy dimmed.

  “I suppose we can make do for the night.” He looked askance at the double bed. “I will request a mattress for the floor since there is no trundle bed.” Despite his practical tone, he frowned ominously.

  “That sounds very sensible. There is no reason why we cannot sleep in the same room as long as we sleep apart.” She managed to make her voice matter-of-fact even though that scenario was the last thing she wanted. If he insisted on acting so outraged, however, perhaps she did not want him in her bed. It seemed a remote possibility in any case.

  They ate dinner in silence, apparently having no appetite for conversation. To judge by their plates, neither did they have much desire for food either.

  Once the dishes had been cleared and the pallet made up, Juliet opened her traveling chest and withdrew night rail, comb and brush, and various other necessary articles. She looked around the room and bit her bottom lip. The plain screen that concealed the chamber pot did so with little room to spare. If she tried to undress behind it, more than likely it would topple over, revealing more than she intended. Nothing else in the room could shield her from his gaze.

  Only one option. Trying for subtlety, she cleared her throat to catch his attention. If he saw her with her night things, perhaps, he would take the initiative. Unlikely, though, for Amiable sat in the room’s one good chair, his gaze fixed on the fireplace.

  Should she speak to him or simply undress? If she removed so much as her fichu, the man would probably flee the room and not return. For once perhaps caution would serve her best.

  “Amiable? I would like to retire now. Would you mind leaving the room so I can get ready for bed?”

  He shot up out of the chair.

  “Of course.” One look at the jumble of items in her hands and he shifted from foot to foot. He cleared his throat and turned for the door. “I will return shortly.”

  Juliet sighed in relief, put her bundle down on the bed, and untied the bow at the top of her stomacher. The laces had better not be knotted in the back or… “Oh.” She spun around. “Wait.” Dear God. Given their present circumstances, she hated to ask but had no choice. “Can you unlace my corset? I cannot do it by myself.”

  He stopped dead, his hand on the latch. He turned, his mouth stern and his shoulders stiff. However, he nodded curtly and averted his eyes.

  As she tugged on the bodice laces, loosening it enough so he could get at the corset strings in the back, she struggled to find something to say. Something to make the situation somehow all right. To put them back on easy terms with each other. Impossible, though, when every subject seemed taboo. She couldn’t even ask where he was going to wait for her to change, fearful he would not return at all. He might spend the night in the stable just to preserve the proprieties.

  When the garment sagged, she drew it off and backed toward him. “I’m ready now.”

  He stepped up behind her, his raspy breath loud in her ear. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a shiver through her body. The corset loosened and still he spoke no word, his censure shouted by his silence. A silence broken only with the click of the door as it closed behind him.

  She hung her head, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

  Perhaps she had made a mistake. A tactical error. By forcing Amiable to share this room, she had
stripped him of all choice in the matter.

  She drew off her gown and underpinnings one by one, contemplating her actions during their past three days together. Altogether, a humiliating experience. She’d pursued him with the tenacity of a terrier after a fox. Stockings off, night rail on.

  Had he ever made overtures toward her?

  By the time she sat brushing her hair its customary one hundred strokes, she forced herself to concede that except for that blistering interlude on the sofa last evening, this had indeed been a one-sided affair. She had pursued the man unashamedly, even knowing of his reluctance. She had used her knowledge of his protective instincts to force him into this escort, although she had to admit he had followed her from London of his own free will. Nevertheless, she had done everything else in her power to seduce him and he’d refused—with that one exception—to be seduced. Could she not take “no” for an answer?

  Utterly shameful behavior. In effect, she’d jeopardized his honor as a gentleman. After tonight, he would have to offer her marriage, as behavior expected of an honorable man who had compromised a lady. She had expected he would have offered it after last night’s escapade except neither of them had been thinking clearly.

  She paused on stroke fifty-eight.

  Did she want him to ask out of duty and honor alone? Even if he had no true feelings for her other than simple lust?

  Juliet resumed her brushing, examining her heart as it beat much faster than normal. She yearned for this man with an inexplicable passion, but was that enough to marry him if he did not want her? Would she find happiness with him if affection lay on her side alone?

  A sudden image sprang to mind of the early days of her brother’s marriage. Neither Duncan nor Kat had ever said a word about the circumstances surrounding their marriage, but the time immediately after their wedding had been one of great stress and unhappiness for Katarina. She had avoided Duncan for days, only seeing him at meals or when a society function required them to attend as a couple. Her brother had been miserable each time she rebuffed him. Their trip to Italy had been a final, desperate attempt on Duncan’s part to win Katarina’s regard. Juliet prayed nightly for its success, for the anguish that stared out from her brother’s eyes smote her heart.

  Did she want to see that same anguish look back at her from her mirror every morning?

  The clock in the inn yard chimed eleven and Juliet put down her brush and swiftly braided her hair into a long, thick plait down her back. She missed Glynis doing this service for her and prayed she fared well. With a sigh, she moved to the roomy four-poster, dragged the covers back, blew out the candle, and crawled between the sheets. The night was too warm for more than a thin covering, even with the window open.

  In the dark she stared at the ceiling, miserable. Hot tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and trickled toward her ears. She must stop her advances toward Amiable. Sniffling, she turned over on her side and faced the wall. The best course would be to act as though none of the past three days had happened. If only she were that good of an actress.

  * * * *

  Amiable eased the door to their room open, unsure what he would find awaiting him. The candle had burned out or been snuffed, for the room lay in semidarkness, lit only by the faint moonlight that spilled through the lone window that faced the yard. In no mood for her games, he had just come from the taproom where he had nursed an ale for the better part of two hours to give Juliet enough time to dress for bed and fall asleep.

  He had been furious when she refused to stop in Coventry, knowing that to push on for Coalville would result in either no accommodation or a single room. He would certainly have preferred the former. An uncomfortable night in the carriage could have been survived. The forced intimacy of sharing a room with Juliet might be the end of him.

  He wasn’t made of iron, damn it. He’d never forgive himself if he instigated something they would regret for the rest of their lives. It had been a near thing last night.

  With a slow, deep breath, he tried to will away the memory of her sweet body beneath him, of her breast instantly responsive to the touch of his tongue. Of the way his loins ached to possess her fully, even after removing to the other room. That ache had left him only with the dawn’s arrival.

  He listened to the sounds of the room, waiting for Juliet’s voice to call him, ask some provocative question, make some seductive statement. A full minute after he’d closed the door she had still made no sound. He held his breath and listened more intently but heard only slow, rhythmic breathing. After all her machinations to get him alone with her in a room for the night, she had gone to sleep?

  Amiable stared into the darkness in disbelief. It had to be another trick, another ploy from the woman who seemed hell-bent on bringing him to the altar. The gentle breathing continued. What the devil was her game? He crept toward the bed and whispered, “Juliet?”

  No answer. She had fallen asleep. He shook his head. It made no sense. He turned away and removed his clothes, dropping them where he stood rather than light the candle and risk waking her. Naked, he felt for the pallet at the foot of the bed and stretched out on top of the blanket. He would don his shirt and crawl beneath the sheets after he had cooled down.

  Lying on his back, he tucked one arm underneath his head and rested the other across his forehead. He tried to think ahead to the end of their journey, perhaps five days from now. Once he had delivered his charge to her brother’s estate, he would immediately mount his horse and trek back to London.

  He’d prefer to return straight to Cheswyck, but he needed to close the house in London before removing to the country. His father would fare better with his company and he now had to learn the business of becoming a landowner. Something he had never in his life entertained.

  To follow the drum had been his desire since childhood. Unfortunately, that pleasant form of duty now lay behind him and another called. His father had informed him upon his arrival home that he must marry and get an heir—the sooner the better. Not an onerous task, as the woman he loved had accepted him. He’d ridden to London posthaste to find out if Katarina had sailed for Virginia in March or April. Instead, he’d found she had indeed sailed but to Italy and with her husband.

  Which returned his thoughts to the woman sleeping in the bed above him. Why not marry her? Disappointment had been sharp when he learned of Katarina’s marriage, but to be truthful his heart had not been deeply touched. He had not seen her in more than six months and her refusal in December had somehow closed that chapter in his life. Although he would have married her without hesitation had she still needed his protection, his feelings now extended only as far as friendship.

  So if his heart was not engaged elsewhere, why not marry Juliet? He could not hope for a better alliance than with the daughter of a marquess. A woman beautiful enough to turn any man’s head, including his own. She also possessed charm, wit, and humor. And passion. In an instant, thoughts of her in his arms brought on an all too familiar state of arousal. An almost constant ache since he had met her.

  He groaned softly, twisting to get comfortable on the hard floor. Without a doubt he wanted to bed her. So why did he not want to marry her? Did he balk because she had pursued him and not the other way around? Though a bit disconcerting, her tenacity was part and parcel of her personality. Single-minded and stubborn enough to go after what she wanted. As faults went, it seemed a minor one he could live with.

  Or did he balk because she had all but compromised him, forced him as a gentleman to offer for her? This idea might have carried weight, except no one likely realized she had been compromised. They had met no one of their acquaintance along the way, and although the proprieties had been stretched, he doubted Juliet’s reputation would come to grief. The exception might be sharing the room tonight, though he doubted they had caused any untoward talk. No, even with last night’s indiscretion, he could walk away and not feel Juliet had been ruined beyond redemption.

  So w
hy did he not want to marry her? Could the question actually be did he want to marry Juliet?

  Images of her laughing at him as he lay in the mud, crying on his shoulder, taking comfort in his arms, lying beneath him on the sofa, and ensnared in a soul-burning kiss wheeled through his mind. These led to flashes of her pouring tea in the morning room at Cheswyck, dining with him and his father at the long formal table, dancing with him in the great ballroom, cradling a child against her breast in the nursery. Would he willingly walk away from the promise of such a life in five days’ time?

  As though a great cog snapped into place, a swelling sense of well-being arose at the thought of life with Juliet by his side as his wife. A sense of rightness washed over him, a contentment he had never before experienced.

  He sat bolt upright.

  The day had been strained, especially since their arrival. She must think him angry at her. He must tell her instead he was glad she wanted him because he wanted her, too. For all time.

  Quietly, Amiable rose from the pallet and headed around the bed, then stopped as his ultimate state of dishabille registered. Would she be shocked? Perhaps. Still, he dismissed the idea of digging his banyan out of his luggage. In the darkness, she would not be able to see him well at all. Not the best way to offer a proposal of marriage, perhaps, but once she accepted him, if she agreed, he would be ready and very willing to anticipate the wedding night. An unruly part of his body leaped in joyous agreement. He would have to keep his thoughts in check, at least until she said yes.

  Her quiet, regular breathing still sounded from the bed as he eased onto it. Enough moonlight spilled into the room to reveal her turned away from him. He skimmed his hand down her side, over the soft contours of her body, the sensation swelling his shaft halfway to fullness. He leaned over her until his mouth neared her ear.