Page 67 of The Duchess in His Bed
She refrained from nodding, shamed by the realization that she had been. That she had judged the woman a sinner, that she herself would be as harshly judged if anyone realized what she had done. “You told me once that you were fourteen when Fancy was born. I can’t imagine things went well for the landlord once you and your brothers realized how he was exacting payment.”
His grin was wolfish, predatory, lethal. “It doesn’t go well for any man we discover has taken advantage of a woman.”
She wasn’t surprised. She’d noted the protective bent of his nature, perhaps had even unconsciously sought to take advantage of it. Instinctively she knew if he got her with child, he would keep a watch over his offspring to ensure no harm would ever come to him or her—even if he did it from a distance. The guilt gnawed at her because if they managed to work out a way for him to participate in the child’s life publicly, he would never be able to acknowledge him or her. She was being exceedingly unfair to Aiden. She’d assumed a great majority of men would not care. She’d loved her own father, but he had given her very little attention. It seemed matters were always calling to him, although at the moment she thought if he’d truly been seeing to his estates as she’d always assumed, his death would not have left it in shambles.
“There is a goodness to you that I’d not expected. People assume those born in sin are destined to sin.”
“I’ve done my fair share of sinning.” He said it as though he took great pride in his misbehavior, but if not for it, they wouldn’t be here now. It was one of the reasons she’d chosen him. That and the way he appealed to her on a more primal level.
He hadn’t worn gloves. She wondered if he even owned a pair. Although she thought it would be a shame to cover those bare hands that rested on his thighs. Hands with roughened palms that titillated her when they skimmed over her flesh. Capable hands. Strong yet amazingly gentle. Perhaps she should give up her quest for a child and simply take him as a lover. Never to marry but to live out the remainder of her life blissfully in his arms.
The sun was suddenly far too bright, fairly filling the conveyance with warmth, threatening to broil her on the spot. She needed to distract herself from thoughts of what his hands could do to her, of how tempting it was to invite him over to her side of the carriage and let him have his way with her. As though he followed the direction of her thoughts, his hands clamped his thighs, the muscles and tendons bulging, and she wondered if another aspect of him bulged as well. “Have you traveled beyond London before?”
His eyes slowly closed, opened, and his penetrating stare through half-lowered lids told her that he knew precisely what she was about. Why was she not surprised? They were far too attuned with each other, especially now that he knew all her secrets.
“When I was younger, I would save my coins until I could afford a trip on the railway, just to see what lay beyond what I knew.”
“You’ve a curious nature.”
A long nod that affirmed her conclusion. “I once thought of running off to sea. I wanted to explore more of the world. I was in search of a place where life was better than what I knew, and then I realized that I had it within me to create the better.”
“And is your life better?”
“I want for naught.”
“You want for nothing at all?”
“What should I want for, Lena?” His voice was low, sultry, hinted at stolen kisses and pilfered minutes and thieved touches.
Me.The solitary word was a lonesome wail within her heart and soul. She wanted him to want her with a need that matched hers for him, with a hunger that didn’t care about consequences and wouldn’t allow him to sit so calmly opposite her but would drive him to cross over and take her within his arms, claim her mouth, her body, her senses. But she had too much pride to confess to that.
She wanted him to bed her not because her sisters were worthy or the estate would bring his child riches, but because he would cease to breathe if he did not. Instead, she squeezed her gloved hands together in her lap. “Sleep, I should think.”
The hysteria edging her voice caused her to inwardly flinch, and the awkward laugh that followed didn’t help matters. “Knowing how you keep watch over your establishment into the wee hours, I can’t imagine you retired at a reasonable hour and you had to arise so frightfully early. Please don’t feel a need to entertain me”—she did wish all the various ways he might entertain her physically hadn’t rushed through her mind in a kaleidoscope of images—“during the journey. Rest for a bit. I’ll awaken you when we near.”
“I am a bit weary.” He crossed his arms over his chest, settled back more fully against the squabs, and closed his eyes.
His legs relaxed more, stretched a bit farther, until she was fully imprisoned within them. Not that she had any desire to go anywhere. Soon he was snoring lightly, and she imagined herself with a child who had brown hair, feathery streaks here and there burnished to a faint, pleasing red. Long, thick, sooty lashes that rested on sharp cheekbones. She wanted to reach across and press a kiss to the underside of that strong jaw, wanted to snuggle against him and find her own slumber.
Instead she merely watched him sleep, wishing she could make his claim.I want for naught.
But she couldn’t because it was dawning on her as brightly as the sun now hovering over them that she wanted what she couldn’t have: him walking proudly beside her for all the world to see. But she couldn’t risk any doubt regarding her child’s parentage, would not risk him or her growing up as the subject of whispers.
Perhaps they could keep their relationship clandestine until they knew how much the child favored him. And if he favored him not at all, maybe in a few years, once she was out of mourning, once enough time had passed so no suspicions surfaced—
But if the child favored him, they wouldn’t be able to risk people seeing them together. She would not allow her child to doubt his parentage. The sins were hers. She wouldn’t pass them on to her child, would not risk his having to defend his birthright. Or his mother. Would he end up in a brawl, slashed by a knife, because someone called her a whore?
They would have to be secretive about his time with the child, his time with her. For the sake of their little one, whom they would need to protect from the truth at all costs.
He dreamed of removing her black-veiled hat and tossing it out the window, so shadows could no longer lurk over her face and keep her true feelings hidden from him. Of unclasping her pelisse and giving freedom to every button on her traveling frock. Of taking her on the well-padded cushions, holding her close afterward, and yelling up to the driver to never bring the carriage to a halt. To simply spend eternity traveling about within these confines where no one was present to judge them, where Society held no sway, where they were hidden away from censure, where his time with her wasn’t measured in hours but in years.
It was her hand nudging his knee that woke him. Opening his eyes to her tender smile was bittersweet. Why should he care if he gave her a child? He knew she would love it, would see that it had every advantage. Its status would be elevated, far above his.
But even knowing all this, he couldn’t get past the notion that he would be aping his father, creating a child only to cast it aside, to not be part and parcel of its life. In truth, not having his sire involved in his upbringing had been a blessing, but the man’s blatant disregard for his offspring, his foisting them off on others, still had a way of making Aiden feel worthless. His existence had been a mere inconvenience. He didn’t want his child to ever harbor the same sentiment, to believe he’d not been wanted.
So it was imperative the child never discover the truth of his origins, and yet Aiden was well aware that long-buried secrets had a way of being uncovered. His mum’s garden proved that. Within it, she had laid to rest the first two children brought to her. Mick’s discovery of an unmarked grave when he was eight had led to them all learning that she hadn’t given birth to them but that they had been handed over to her because others had not wanted them. Fear of others discovering what she had done kept her tethered to her shambles of a residence when they all wanted to move her into something more luxurious. Yes, secrets had a way of haunting their holders.
Noting that she’d stirred him awake, she straightened. “We’ll be arriving soon. You might want to move over here in order to catch the view at its most impressive.”
