Page 50 of One Night of Temptation
He glanced out the window. “We’re here.” He opened the door and stepped down from the hack, then helped her to the pavement. He’d already paid the driver, who immediately started back into traffic.
She leaned against him and looked up at the sign hanging over the door. “The Leek and Sieve?”
Hugh chuckled. “The innkeeper, possesses a dry wit.” He offered her his arm.
She placed her hand on his sleeve and gave him an earnest stare. “I hope there is just one room awaiting us, because I am not letting you go ever again.”
He pulled her close and kissed her cheek before whispering against her ear. “Good, because neither am I.”
Penelope stared at the room in open dislike. When he’d said they were indeed sharing a room, she’d envisioned one bed. “Why are there two beds?”
He closed the door and bolted it before moving to the window and making sure the drapes were tightly closed. Turning, he regarded her with nothing bordering regret or apology. “To be honest, I wasn’t certain what to expect and didn’t want to presume that you’d wish to share a bed with me.”
She put her hands on her hips. Now that she’d pursued what she wanted, she didn’t mean to stop. Independence was heady and empowering. “Except I just did exactly one week ago.”
“Yes, but that was all that was available.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “If I came this far with you, to an inn in Seven Dials with the intention of marrying you in the morning, wouldn’t it be safe to assume I would want to share a bed?”
“I try never to assume,” he said calmly. “I’d planned to secret you away—if you wanted me to—whether you agreed to marry me or not. Rescue from Findon didn’t necessarily mean you’d choose me instead. Perhaps you’d prefer to be alone. I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
He was far too even-tempered, but then so was she. On the outside. Inside, she was tormented by loneliness and despair and, currently, with desire. “You wouldn’t have been disappointed?”
His eyes glimmered with intensity as he regarded her across the small width of the room. “I would have been devastated, but my primary goal is to make you happy. If your happiness involves me, so much the better.”
She shook her head as a smile teased her mouth. “You are the most selfless man.” And perhaps not as even-tempered as she thought. At least not on the inside.
She walked farther into the room and took in the cozy interior. There was a small hearth with a few burning coals, two mismatched stuffed chairs, and two narrow beds. Moving to stand between the beds, she said, “Since I did choose you and we’ll be married tomorrow, let’s push the beds together.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest. “As tempting as that is—asyouare—we should wait until we are wed.”
He couldn’t mean to be a stickler for propriety. Not after the night they’d already spent together. She walked toward him, purposely swaying her hips and wondering if it would have any effect since she had no experience in flirtation. “I already endured one night of temptation with you, and I am not going to suffer another. We will be wed in a matter of hours.”
“That is my same argument. We will be wed in a matter of hours, so why not wait? The anticipation will be lovely.”
Scowling, she removed her cloak. “I don’t entirely understand what will happen between us in bed, but I’ll wager everything I haveandthe money I gave Maisie that the anticipation will not be lovely. It will be excruciating.”
He turned from her and went to the armoire in the corner. One of the doors hung at an odd angle and creaked as he opened it. “There is a brush and other toiletries as well as a night rail.”
She joined him and saw the items he’d mentioned. “You thought of everything.”
“Not me. The Duchesses of Eastleigh and Colehaven organized this.”
How thoughtful of them. “I am very grateful, for I’d rather not sleep in my gown.”
“They didn’t think you would, since you will need to wear it to your wedding. They considered providing a gown but weren’t sure it would be the right fit.”
Penelope glanced down at her peacock-blue gown and was glad she’d chosen it. She lifted her gaze to his and spoke softly. “I wore this gown because it’s my favorite. I wanted to look my best for you.”
He turned toward her and touched her sleeve, his thumb and forefinger caressing the silk. “It’s exquisite, just like you. I wanted to look my best for you too. This wasnotmy favorite suit, but it is now. I just had it made. I’m afraid my wardrobe doesn’t support dinners at the Marquess of Bramber’s house.”
“Good, because I doubt we’ll ever dine there again.” Overcome with the need to touch him and be touched, she stepped close to him and slid her arms up the front of his coat. He was warm and strong, his chest wide and muscled beneath the layers of his clothing. She longed to see him in his shirtsleeves as she had the other night. No, she wanted to see him in nothing at all.
That he preferred to wait until they were wed was incredibly frustrating. Perhaps she could change his mind.
Penelope stood on her toes and curled her hands around his neck. Pulling his head down, she touched her mouth to his with eager abandon. Her lips tangled with his, and she slipped her tongue into his heat.
With a masculine grunt, he swept her tight against him. Their kisses were long and wild as they took their time exploring each other. Penelope pulled at the back of his hair and pressed her palms against the sides of his neck, tucking her hands beneath his collar. It wasn’t enough of him—she needed more.
