Page 80 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
This trip would take them two days; Fawkes had already wired ahead and secured a pair of rooms for them at the halfway point in a perfectly respectable—although not fancy—hotel. Merida was enamored by the whole adventure of itnow, but he knew soon enough her tiredness would win out and she’d be ready to reach their destination.
After luncheon, Merida’s eyes began to droop. Fawkes made a pillow out of his scarf and moved from the bench, instructing the girl to stretch out and nap. Tramp clambered up atop the lassie and ended up snuggled behind her legs, better than a hot brick. Fawkes covered them both with his greatcoat and watched Merida’s eyes slowly shut, lulled by the movement of the train.
This meant, through a quite logical chain of events, he ended up sitting beside Ellie.
Her hands were still in her lap, her gaze distant. She was staring out the window but he doubted she was seeing the winter landscape.
Fawkes took a deep breath, uncertain how to broach the subject. Uncertain if heshould.
But before he could, Ellie turned abruptly, twisting in her seat to face him. “I am sorry, again, for imposing upon you. And at a time like this.”
Her whisper was pitched low, not only to refrain from disturbing the sleeping pair on the other bench, but so their fellow passengers wouldn’t hear either.
Fook.
“No’ this again,” Fawkes muttered, instinctively reaching for her hand. Once her gloved fingers—so delicate, so much smaller than his—twined through his, he realized what he’d done. Someone like him had no call to be eventouchinga woman like her, but he’d done it many times, and in public too.
Hell, what he’d done to her in that alleyway…
“Ellie, it’smewho owes ye an apology—”
“No!” Guiltily, she glanced around then lowered her voice. “What you said to me, that last night we were…together.” She swallowed, but held his gaze. “Fawkes, you were right. I had been selfish, and I amsosorry. I know there is nothing I can do to offer recompense, but please know it was never my intention to hurt you.”
He squeezed her hand, then released it, only so he could throw his arm over the back of the bench, and cup her opposite shoulder. His free hand rested on his thigh, and when she reached over to grab that one, he almost smiled again.
“Ellie, I forgive ye. I was angry then, aye, but angrier at myself than ye. If I hadnae wanted ye—wantedthat—I could’ve turned ye away. But I didnae. I didnae because I wasnae strong enough to deny myself.”
He saw her throat work. “You…wanted me?”
How could she doubt it?
“Lass, I’m a man grown, with plenty of urges and needs. But I’m no’ a green lad, and ye…made me feel like one.”
“I am sorry.”
This time his lipsdidtwist. She thought that was something worth apologizing for?
“Fine. I accept yer apology. Now, will ye accept my apology for the way I treated ye that night?”
The way I fooked ye up against a brick wall? The way I pulled yer hair and forced my tongue into yer mouth? The way I wanted to shout yer name for the world to hear as I drained my balls into ye?
Perhaps she heard some of the unspoken words, because her cheeks flushed an adorable shade.
With her gaze locked on the curled up form of her stepdaughter, sleeping across from them, she whispered, “There is no need to apologize, Fawkes.”
“I think there is. I treated ye nae better than…”A common whore.But he trailed off, realizing he couldn’t finish the sentence with so many people around them.
Her cheeks—and her neck, her jaw—were almost apple red when she finally turned to meet his eyes.
Her dark gaze sparkled with something he couldn’t explain and her fingers tightened around his for just a moment. She lifted her chin and took a breath.
“I liked it.”
Holy fook.
Fawkes felt his cock hardening beneath his trousers.
She’d…likedit? Liked what he’d done to her?
