Page 78 of Almost a Bride
There were hoots and jeers from the leering sailors, but what made Spencer tense was the fading smile on the gentleman’s cold face.
Spencer slammed his tankard down on his table and got to his feet, with an appropriate sway for balance. “By the saints, woman,” he roared, “ye didn’t have to follow me!”
Roselyn’s wide-eyed gaze fixed on him in shock as the tavern erupted with laughter. The gentleman remained at her side.
Spencer grabbed his cane and walked toward them. “I told ye I’d find a better place to stay than that roomin’ house.”
She inclined her head. “You were taking too long.”
With a shrug, the gentleman turned toward the bar, and Spencer felt a bit of his tension ebb. Though he was pleasantly surprised at how well she’d taken up his story, it was still easy to give her a scowl.
“Well, I already got the room,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“But I just ordered my meal—”
“The innkeeper will send it up.” He took her elbow and practically pulled her out of the chair. He glanced at the innkeeper, who gave him a nod and eyed him with sympathy.
Spencer said nothing as he dragged her up to his garret room on the third floor, with the sloping roof on one side and a tiny fireplace on the other. He slammed the door, then turned Roselyn around and put her back against it.
She stared up at him, her eyes as gray as a cloudy day at sea. He knew he should yell at her, demand to know why she’d risked her life to follow him.
But instead he pressed her against the door and kissed her.
Chapter 23
Part of Roselyn melted inside at the delicious passion of Spencer’s kiss, the weight of his body pressing her into the door. Another part of her wanted to bite his lip for his betrayal and for running away from her.
She pressed her hands against his chest to push him away, but it was like trying to move a wall. She was finally able to turn her head aside, and as she gasped for breath, she felt his lips nibbling on her ear.
“Spencer, stop this,” she said with a stern voice, while visions of their joined naked bodies flashed through her mind.
“I’m trying, believe me,” he murmured, his mouth on her throat.
“Not hard enough.”
He gave a low chuckle. “But I’m already hard enough.”
“Stop!” She ducked beneath his arm and whirled away to face him, her hands on her hips, fighting her own need to fling her arms around him. She had felt so alone all day—the only woman on the ferry, the only woman in the tavern—that just seeing him made her want to sink into him with relief. But she refused to give into such weakness.
Spencer picked up his cane and came toward her. She could see the dark clouds of anger rising in his black eyes. The room beneath the eves was overly warm, and she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Roselyn, you should not have followed me,” he said, wearing a thunderous frown.
“That kiss did not come from a man who wished I wasn’t here.”
He scowled. “What I wish I could have and what I deserve are two different things. Thank you for stopping me.”
I didn’t want to,a sly voice whispered inside her.
“You would have stopped yourself,” she said. “After all, it was easy enough to take what you wanted from me and then leave without a word of explanation.”
Spencer pierced her with his gaze. “I didn’t mean it to be like that.”
His low voice still sent shivers through her, and she had to fight the tears stinging her eyes. “Then how was I supposed to interpret it?”
He reached to cup her cheek. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I left your side.”
“That comes from not having relations with a woman in at least a year.”
