Page 94 of Crash Landing
“Yes, love. Possibly stronger. The male urges are pretty intense.”
This seemed to surprise her. “What must I do to get you to respond to me in this way?”
“Nothing. Gad, Florence. Even now, I am desperate to roll you under me and have at your pink, pouty mouth and insanely luscious body. Do you have any idea how incredibly lovely you are?”
Once again, she appeared surprised.
“Just be you. My body will do the rest. But do not tempt me now. Not tonight. It’s getting late and we need to sleep, or we’ll be dead to the world come morning and miss the mail coach.”
She said nothing, merely looked disappointed.
“Tonight was meant for you, love. We’ll continue this biology lesson as soon as we reach London. But I’m going to marry you first. Then we’ll arrange to deliver the letters to the princess.”
“Shouldn’t we go to her first?”
“No.” He was adamant about this. “You are not to seek an audience with her until you are my duchess. And I intend to be there with you.”
“Because you think she is going to cheat me out of the promised reward?”
“Saving your brother is not much of a reward,” he muttered. “She may not cheat you so much as pile on another requirement. The pointis, this needs to end. And she needs to be told of Frampton’s retribution.”
Florence lightly touched his bandaged arm. “Oh, I ought to have checked on your wound.”
“No need. I tended to it before we rode off this morning. You’ll help me apply the salve and a fresh bandage tomorrow morning before we get on the mail coach. Come into my arms now, Florence.”
“All right.” She nestled against him without protest.
He thought she might take a while to fall asleep because her mind was awhirl with questions.
To his surprise, she fell asleep within five minutes.
He was bone weary, too. And lost in sleep within six minutes.
Trajan awoke with the approaching dawn, still half lost in a torrid dream of Florence. Perhaps his dreams of her were particularly hot because she was all over him, her legs entangled in his and her ample bosom pressed against his chest.
She looked so pretty in sleep. But dawn was approaching.
What time was it?
He quietly slipped out of bed to attend to his necessaries before waking Florence. She had slept like a log the entire night, not even flinching when he slid his arm out from under her.
What a sweet body she had.
He felt some remorse about waking her when she was obviously exhausted. But it was time. He heard the quiet hum of activity in the common room and knew the morning hour had to be approaching six o’clock.
Why had the maid not come to wake them yet?
The mail coach was due to arrive at the inn within the next thirty minutes, stopping just long enough to pick up the outgoing mail, drop off the incoming mail, and take on any waiting passengers before taking off for Bournemouth and then turning northward to London.
“Florence,” he whispered, giving her shoulder a light shake. “Wake up, love.”
She grumbled.
He gave her shoulder another light shake. “We’ll miss the coach.”
Her eyes flickered open. “I’m up. Good morning, Trajan. You’re looking awfully handsome. That shirtless, divinely muscled look suits you.”
He grinned. “Do not think to gain another five minutes of sleep by flattering me.”
