Rowena nodded. “As shocking as this may seem, it does occasionally happen – particularly when one or both of the parties in question have reasons to leave families behind in order to form the union.”
The coach was moving smoothly now, and her companion was leaning back in his seat with wonder on his face.
“Eloping,” he repeated.
Rowena coloured slightly, and felt the heat of embarrassment rise up in her. “Yes, eloping. I thought that…that I loved Mr Bentley, and he told me that he loved me too.”
Mr Paendly snorted, and she shot a dark glare at him.
“And why,” she said severely, “is it so surprising that anyone would love me, and wish to marry me?”
She saw at once that he regretted his instinctual opinion, but there was still something about the way that he was looking at her that made her uncomfortable.
Cheeks slightly darkened, Mr Paendly said quietly, “‘Tis of no surprise to me that anyone would wish to marry you, Miss Kirkland. I suppose what does surprise me is that you are evidently not married. Something went wrong.”
Unable to help herself, Rowena moved her hands to cover the left, conscious of the absence of a ring on her fourth finger. She nodded stiffly, and glanced out of the window.
It was a fully minute before she spoke again. “We arrived at the church too late yesterday. The vicar told us that if we had been there but five minutes earlier, it would have been sufficient, but we had no choice but to find a coaching inn for the night. Oscar…Mr Bentley took a little too much wine that evening, and admitted to me that far from being the love match that I had supposed, our marriage was just a means for him to…to claim his fortune.”
It was Mr Paendly’s gasp that made her turn away from the window and look back at him, and Rowena was astonished to see what looked like genuine concern on his face.
“Fortune?”
Rowena nodded. “Mr Oscar Bentley, you understand, is the younger brother of Mr Benjamin Bentley, of Old Ashton. He is without children, and fifteen years older than his brother. If Mr Oscar Bentley marries and has a son…”
Mr Paendly’s eyes were wide now, but Rowena could not tell whether he was shocked at the revelation that she had eloped, astonished at the reasons that Mr Bentley had attempted to marry her, or revolted that the elopement had not even taken place.
“I am worth far more than that,” Rowena said fiercely, her hands now bunching into fists. “I am more than my ability to bear a child, and I told him so. We stayed at the coaching inn last night, and I have waited all day for a coach to take me home as…as soon as possible.”
* * *
James’ mouth was slightly open, but he gave little thought to how he must look. So, that was the secret after all: a failed elopement, and one that had included a night in the same room. Well, it was no wonder that she wanted to keep that quiet; if the ton discovered that she would be ruined forever, no man worth his sense would even consider her.
And yet look at her. There was pride in the way she held herself as she looked back at him. She knew in herself that she had made the right decision, no matter the consequences, no matter the cost. James felt admiration for her flood through him, with a hint of anger at this Mr Bentley, whoever he was.
Who could look at Miss Rebecca Kirkland and see just the possibility of a child? Could he not value her for what she was?
It was difficult not to feel impressed by the woman that was seated before him, and a little amazed at her gall – and he found himself saying so.
“There cannot be many women in England who would have the power to say that to a man,” James said quietly. “Much less one with whom she had spent a night. Nonetheless, I would never have imagined a woman like you having such strength in the face of Mr Bentley’s rather distasteful revelation. You are a unique woman.”
James did not miss the faint smile on her face, but it was gone in an instant.
“I have always known what I want,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping, “and unafraid to take it. I was bold, perhaps, in deciding to elope with Mr Bentley in the first place. I have no doubt that I was just as bold in deciding to leave him unwed.”
It was as though he was seeing her in a completely new light, and it was impossible for James to untangle the attraction that he felt for her with the unmistakeable way that she impressed him. Only one woman had ever done that before.
“And so now, you are on your way home,” he managed to say, almost calmly. “What do you intend to do when you arrive there?”
He was becoming more attuned to her now; even though she attempted to hide the flash of nervousness, James saw it.
“Mr Bentley and I came to an agreement before he departed from the coaching inn,” said Miss Kirkland stiffly. “He would not tell anyone of the…misadventure that we found ourselves on. I did, however, leave a letter for my parents, and I am not entirely sure whether…”
Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip. Something about the way that her eyes dropped to the hands clasped in her lap, the slump of her shoulders, the crinkling frown of her brows, stirred something in James. It wasn’t desire. It was something deeper.
“Of course, they may not even accept me back as their daughter,” Miss Kirkland continued with a wry smile. “Now that I am sullied goods, they may be unwilling to have me under their roof, let alone under their protection.”
James’ eyes flickered over her, taking in the golden hair, the curve of her jaw as she spoke, the gently rising breasts that seemed barely contained in her gown, the slope of her waist. By God, what it would have been like to enjoy her – and this Mr Bentley had had that privilege, though it sounds like he little deserves her.
His imagination uncontrolled by the smallest of moments, she was above him, straddling him, her hair pouring down towards him as her luscious mouth –
“Mr Paendly?”
James jumped as the real Miss Kirkland stared at him. It was ridiculous to attempt to lie to himself now: he wanted her, and he wanted her more now that he knew some other man had taken from her that most precious thing. Her innocence gone, her parental protection almost certainly revoked, who would care for her now?
The longing in his loins grew. He could take her for his own, that was true. He would more than enjoy her, and he could give her such pleasure, such security that this Bentley fool never could.
The memory of his last mistress rose to the surface. True, she had wanted marriage and he had been forced to break it off, but he did not think Miss Rebecca Kirkland to be cut from the same cloth.
“I will admit,” he said slowly, “I had never considered the female sex to be so…mercenary.”
Miss Kirkland raised an eyebrow. “Mercenary?”
“Controlled,” James said hastily. “Control over one’s emotions has always been traditionally seen as the gentleman’s province, and yet you seem nothing but calm over your broken engagement with Mr Bentley.”
“Just because I am able to control my feelings does not mean that I do not have them,” she snapped back at him. “Do you not think that I realise just how limited my choices in life are now? Do you not think that I see the impossible position that I am now placed in? But I would rather have limited choices, and a potentially ruined name than marry a man who was only interested in me as a means to an end.”
If James had thought that she would be unable to surprise him, even now, he was once again proved wrong. Miss Kirkland had a spirit in her, a fire that was stronger and more fiery than any woman that he had ever met – any man, even. The Viscount of Paendly had never found himself wanting in female companionship, but he had experienced more surprise, joy, and confusion with Rebecca – Miss Kirkland – in the last twenty four hours than in his entire lifetime.
“And I will admit,” and now Miss Kirkland’s gaze moved away from him and back towards the window, watching the scenery as it rushed past on their voyage across England, “I almost wish that I was sullied, my innocence gone. I will have to accept all
the loss of dignity and reputation without any of the pleasure.”
James’ mouth fell open, and a pleasurable but painful lurch in his loins told him all he needed to know about his body’s response to her words. So, he had not touched her. She did not know the exquisite joy that a man could give a woman. The conversation was evidently at an end from Miss Kirkland’s perspective, but James did not need words to continue. His body knew what she needed now, and if he was not wrong, he would find a way to satisfy her.
5
It was a clattering rattle that jerked Rowena from sleep at first, but the intense look from Mr Paendly kept her awake.
“James – Mr Paendly?” Rowena shook her head in the attempt to rid herself of the confusion of sleep. Did she really call him James? The faint smile across his face seemed to suggest it, and she tried to prevent the flush moving across her cheeks. How long had she been asleep? It must have been a while, as there was no light pouring through the carriage window now. It was almost darkness, and there was a stiffness in her shoulders where she had been leaning.
Mr Paendly raised an eyebrow at the sound of his Christian name, and Rowena swallowed. Time to turn the focus of the conversation back to him. “Were you staring at me, sir?”
Now it was his turn to colour. “You drifted into sleep about two hours ago,” he said in an apologetic turn. “You looked so peaceful that I had no desire to wake you, and I thought that you may not have slept entirely well last night.”
Rowena sat up properly, and became very conscious that her hair – usually pinned back elegantly – was now completely loose, flowing down her shoulders and curling around her collarbone. She had always disliked her hair; golden blonde, yes, but thin and wispy, with little life in it.
She stared out of the window once more, but it was too dark to make out anything in the rushing scenery beyond it. “Where are we?”
It was only then that she realised that Mr Paendly was no longer seated on the opposite side of the coach to her, but had moved, undoubtedly while she had been sleeping, to sit beside her. He was close; too close. She could feel the heat of him, smell that musky warmth that made her want to lean towards him. His right hand was lying beside him, near her own. If either of them moved but two inches –
“If I am not mistaken in our location, we will soon be arriving at the King’s Head Inn,” said Mr Paendly in a quiet voice, a low and intimate one.
Rowena tried to convince herself that it sounded intimate because he was seated close to her; what reason did he to raise his voice? But she could not ignore the way that he was looking at her. There was something different than before; a hunger of some kind, but also respect and admiration.
It caused a thrill to flow through her body and awaken parts of her that she did not even know were there.
“The King’s Head Inn?” She repeated quietly. “I do not know it. Is it close to Aylesbury, Mr Paendly?”
She felt, rather than heard him chuckle. “You know, considering what you have told me about your elopement, I think that we are far beyond the need for such formalities. You called me James when you awoke. I think…no, I know that I would like you to do so from now on.”
A frisson of excitement sparked through Rowena’s body as she tilted her head to smile at him. “And I suppose that you would like to call me Ro-Rebecca, in return?”
She could have kicked herself for almost letting her real name slip: how foolish was she, to fall for a handsome smile like his? For he was handsome, there was no denying it. His charm had been working on her from the moment that he strode over to her at the Wingston Inn, and invited her to join him on his voyage. And now here she was, another day drawing to a close, and for all she knew, she was just as far from her destination as when she started. All these detours, how did she know that they were even necessary?
“Yes, Rebecca,” James’ words cut through her thoughts and she almost gasped aloud. “If you have no objections, I would like to call you by your name.”
It was a sharp thrill to have him speak what he thought was her name. Rowena smiled, and felt the rush of power to her head.
“You still have not told me, James,” and she put a little emphasis on his name, “where we are.”
For a moment, she saw what appeared to be a flash of triumph in his eyes, but it was gone in a moment. “The King’s Head Inn, but thirty miles from your home in Aylesbury. We will rest there for the night.”
“Well, I hope they have more than one room available,” Rowena said sarcastically.
For a moment, she imagined what would happen if there was not. Would she invite James Paendly to join her in the chamber? Would they perhaps sit on the bed – would he lean over to her and take her face in his hands and –
“We shall just have to hope,” James said with a laconic smile.
Rowena’s imagination stalled, she turned away to hide her confusion. But it did not matter, she thought to herself. After all, what were the chances that she would suffer the same indignity for the third night in a row?
But when they arrived at the King’s Head Inn, it appeared that she would.
“What do you mean, just one room available?” James spoke fiercely to the innkeeper as they stood in the hallway, and Rowena was not surprised to see the gentleman take a step backwards in the face of his fury. “For God’s sake man, you run this establishment, you must be prepared for busy evenings!”
“I am most sorry sir, but I cannot conjure up additional rooms when I feel like it,” spluttered the man, attempting to stare James down but failing miserably.
James’ frown deepened. “And you are telling me that there are no other rooms available – no rooms whatsoever?”
Rowena stood quietly as the two men argued, and found herself falling into the attraction that she had attempted to hide from. James was a man to behold when roused: the anger that flowed through him did not darken his character, as happened so often with men, but instead illuminated it. He seemed to come alive only when determined, and whether that stemmed from anger with this man or curiosity with her, the sense of boredom that seemed to shroud him the rest of the time simply fell away and revealed the true man beneath.
And he was devilishly attractive, even Rowena could admit that. Tall, and commanding, his very presence seemed to demand respect and admiration. She watched the way that he spoke with his hands, gesturing with almost every word, and could not help but smile when the poor innkeeper stumbled away saying that he would triple check to see if any other room was available.
“My my,” she said quietly under her breath. “Where has this vigorous James been for the rest of my coach ride?”
James chuckled darkly as he turned to smile at her. “Boredom, you know, has been the greatest challenge of my life. ‘Tis something that I have been forced to fight against and I must admit that you are going a long way to removing it.”
Rowena’s breath caught in her throat as pleasure blossomed within her: pleasure at his words, at the idea that it was she that transformed him – but she was unable to say anything before the innkeeper, sweating slightly now despite the chill of the night, returned with a bow.
“Sir, madam,” he began with a nervous look at James. “I have done all I can, but I must tell you plainly that there is but one room.”
Rowena glanced up at James, and saw with pleasure that though there was irritation in his eyes, there was no malice there.
One room. One room, and the two of them. What would it be like, she wondered, heat rising in her chest and sinking down into that place between her legs, to be alone with James Paendly, alone in a room, alone in a room for the night.
Her imagination took hold and it was full of deep kisses and hands pulling away her garments and the wild heat that overtook two in love.
In love? Rowena tried to check herself as she lowered her eyes demurely to the floor. Young ladies did not have thoughts such as those – they should not even be aware that it was possible to have thoughts such as those! In love with
James Paendly; it was not possible.
It could not be possible. She barely knew him. And yet she knew his kindness, and his passion, and the way his eyes widened when he attempted to hide his true feelings, and the twist of his fingers as he fidgeted. He was a strong man in body and in morals, and yet there was something that he was holding back. Something he wanted to keep secret: from her, from the world.
Could she even consider loving a man who was holding something so important from her?
The innkeeper hurried away, and James laughed wryly as he turned to her. “Well, it looks as though it will be the coach for me again tonight! Will you not join me in some supper here first? It will do the both of us good, I think, to get a proper meal inside us before we go to…before nightfall.”
Rowena swallowed, and found her mouth was very dry. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
* * *
James stretched out his legs and revelled in Rebecca Kirkland’s company. It did not take him long to notice that he was seated with the most beautiful woman in the room. It would have taken a great deal of self-control not to glory in her company, and he saw no reason to resist.
Perhaps she saw it too. She could not be completely blind to her own beauty, thought James as she tilted her head back slightly to allow her golden hair to drift down her back. How was it possible that a woman with that amount of beauty could be unaware of it?
The turn of her wrists as she rested them on the table, the sparkle of the diamond earrings in her ears: there was nothing like her. Though his instinct was the speak and suggest that they share the one room that had been offered to them by the innkeeper, he was no fool. After what she had suffered with that oaf Bentley, there was no chance of Rebecca risking her reputation a second time.
No matter how much he may want her.
The wait for food seemed to increase exponentially as James found himself facing this beautiful woman for the first time in public. All the words that he would otherwise have confidently spoken seemed to vanish as he looked at her.
Voyage With a Viscount Page 4
