Page 26 of The Duke of Ruin
No, he wasn’t. He’d gotten precious little last night, thanks to the temptress beside him. “Perhaps I should. For a bit anyway.”
“I’m going to read.”
“Here.” He leaned forward to where a basket sat on the floor. Inside was the food from the inn and the books he’d brought. He found what she was reading,A Gossip’s Storyby Jane West, and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
She opened the book, tilting it toward the window. The light filtered across her face, arcing over the smooth plane of her cheek and the lush bow of her lips. He thought of those lips, rounded into an O as she’d found her release last night.
He closed his eyes tight in an attempt to banish such thoughts. His cock was already hardening, and he was glad for the blanket covering his lower half.
He couldn’t afford to indulge such fantasies. Hewouldn’t. He would see her to Lancashire and perhaps somewhere else, if that was what she decided, but he had to keep his distance.
Which was easier thought than done. With each moment they spent together, he liked her more, he admired her more, he enjoyed her company…more.
None of that mattered, however. He couldn’t have more from her—not now. Not ever.
Chapter 6
The last twodays had passed in a blur. The day before had been exceptionally long as they’d traveled through Birmingham, and they’d gone on as long as they could before finally stopping at an inn when it was already pitch-dark. Exhausted, Diana had fallen into bed fully clothed after dinner. Part of that had been her not wanting to ask Simon to undress her.
Simon.
She had a hard time thinking of him as Romsey now. After the other night.
They hadn’t spoken of what had happened since the morning after in the coach, but she felt its presence between them, as palpable as the blanket she’d rolled up and placed in the bed the night before.
“Damn.”
Diana turned her head sharply. She’d thought Simon was dozing, but he looked toward the window, his lips pressed into a thin, hard line.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, growing concerned.
“It’s snowing.” He thumped on the roof with his fist, and the coach rumbled to a stop.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
He looked over at her. “I’m not sure, but I need to confer with Tinley.” The door opened, and the coachman stood outside. White flakes landed atop his hat and shoulders.
“It’s snowing, Your Grace.”
“I see that,” Simon said, frowning. “Any idea how far we are from an inn?”
The coachman shook his head, his features drawn with a bit of concern. “No.”
Diana had come to know Tinley quite well over the past several days. A burly man in his forties, he was quick to smile and lend a hand to other travelers. She’d never seen him look worried. She hadn’t seen Simon look worried either.
Simon inclined his head. “Pick up the pace a bit, if you can. Stop at the first inn you come across. I don’t want to be caught in this.”
“Yes, sir.” Tinley nodded before closing the door. They were quickly on their way again.
“It’s going to be dark soon anyway,” Diana noted, looking outside.
“Sooner than it ought, because of the storm,” Simon said, his voice as grim as the steel-gray sky.
“I’m sure we’ll find something.” Diana wanted to reassure him even if she was also concerned. What would they do if they became trapped in the snow?
Simon settled back against the squab and let out a long breath. “I usually like it. It didn’t snow terribly often at Lyndhurst, but I remember one occasion when we had a snowball fight. My father and I joined up with some of the tenants.” His lips curled into a warm smile.
