Only Marriage Will Do Page 4

  He sped around the end of the bed.

  She struggled to scream for Glynis, but produced only a high-pitched squeak.

  The man knelt beside her.

  Dear Lord, where was her rescuer now?

  “Are you all right, Lady Juliet?” The concerned tone and familiar voice of Amiable Dawson answered her prayer instantly.

  She slumped against the floor and blessed air raced into her lungs. He had come for her.

  He clasped her in his strong arms and hoisted her into the air. Tucking her firmly against his chest, he carried her back around the bed and sat in one of the chairs before the cold fireplace. He cradled her in his lap and rocked her like a child.

  She gasped in air and burrowed her face into him.

  “Shhh, my lady.” He disengaged his arms from her. A candle on the table flared then he returned to shelter her. “I am so very sorry I frightened you. I thought you recognized me when I came through the door.” He pressed her head against his chest. Just like this morning.

  “Captain Dawson.” Her voice wobbled but she didn’t care. “Whatever are you doing here at such an hour?” She wore only a thin linen nightgown. If Glynis came in…Juliet tried to slide off his lap. What must he think of her?

  His hard thigh muscles pressed into her bottom as if nothing at all lay between them.

  Scandalous and glorious at the same time.

  He stayed her despite her struggles. “Wait a moment, my lady. You just had a nasty fall. Don’t try to rise too quickly.”

  His commanding tone won out and she ceased her efforts. As she relaxed against him, his heat, his strength, his comfort sank into her like a cheerful fire on a cold day. “Why did you come, Captain? I believed you thought it improper this morning.”

  “It is still improper, my lady.” He smiled, white teeth glinting in the dark. “However, the more I thought of you journeying alone, with only the three servants, the more uneasy I became. I, too, came to fear that St. Cyr would try to follow you.”

  “He thinks me married to you, Captain. Or to Lord Manning rather. Either way, he believes me under the protection of another man. He would not dare pursue me.” She straightened in his lap.

  “I believed the same thing, my lady, until I remembered the self-satisfied look on the blackguard’s face just before I ran him off.” Amiable patted her hand. “I fear he realized you were not wearing a wedding ring. It would be a simple matter for him to make inquiries and find out the truth.”

  She stretched out her left hand, the bare third finger mocking her. She worked to keep the tears at bay.

  “I have attempted to trace your path all afternoon. To warn you and offer myself as escort in case St. Cyr presents himself along the way.” He shook his head and a smile touched his lips. “I must apologize for the lateness of my arrival, but I quite lost you as soon as you left London. I had hoped the magnificence of your carriage would have made people remember it and remark on it to me, but no one seemed to pay it any attention at all.”

  “Had it not been for one wee girl atop her family’s vegetable cart I might still be riding the lanes in the moonlight.” His smile broadened. “I had been ready to give up on the St. Albans road and go back toward Berkhamstead, but I stopped to inquire about your carriage and a little girl with a jam-streaked face laughed and asked if I was chasing the grand lady in the black carriage that had passed while she ate her dinner. I gave the mother a guinea for the child’s keeping and rode in this direction, praying I would catch up to you before it got too late.”

  “You are very kind, captain.” Juliet settled against his comfortable shoulder. “I am most grateful you found us. How did you know I gave the name Mrs. Dawson?”

  Amiable laughed. “I didn’t. I asked the innkeeper if Lady Manning had stopped here, then Lady Juliet Ferrers. He answered ‘no’ to each question so I gave up. I could ride no more tonight, so I thought to make further inquiries in the morning. I asked for a room and gave my name as Captain Dawson. He shot me a strange look, so I immediately said, ‘She hasn’t given her true name, has she? I told her if she traveled alone to use a false one instead.’”

  Juliet giggled. “So that’s how you knew?”

  Amiable nodded. “I’ve engaged a second room. I told the innkeeper I wouldn’t disturb your rest so late at night. He shook his head and muttered something about me being a daft bloke, throwing good money after bad just for the comfort of my wife.” His gaze lingered on her face.

  Heat rose in her cheeks while that fluttery feeling returned to her stomach. She eased off his lap and backed toward the bed. Best put some distance between the both of them while she still had the willpower.

  Glynis bustled in, directing two lads with steaming buckets and a third with a wooden tub. She stopped inside the doorway, a puzzled frown on her face. “Why aren’t you lying down, my—” Her gaze followed Juliet’s to Amiable and she gasped.

  “Yes, Glynis, isn’t it wonderful.” Juliet jumped in before the girl could give them away. “My husband has joined us tonight after all.” She flashed a smile at Amiable, hoping to encourage him to play along once more. “I am so happy to see you, Captain Dawson.”

  “As I am you, Mrs. Dawson.” He grinned back at her, and her stomach twisted. For tonight at least, her dream was realized. She was Mrs. Dawson. She turned her attention to the boys. “Set the tub down near these chairs, and empty the buckets in, if you please.”

  Glynis shot a wild look at her mistress then leaped in to supervise the inn servants. When she’d readied the bath, the girl hesitated. “I need to go down with the lads for more water, my…Mrs. Dawson.” She frowned at Amiable, still sitting before the fireplace. “We need a bucket of cold for blending and a hot one to cool for rinsing. They were asleep when I went down and I’m half afraid they’ll go back to their beds if I don’t see to them.”

  “That will be fine, Glynis. All is well, now that my husband is here.” Juliet stared her down. No mere maid would keep her from spending a few more moments with Amiable.

  With a humph the girl cast a final, stricken look over her shoulder and left.

  The door shut and Juliet plopped down on the bed, arms wrapped around one of the posts, at a sudden loss for words. How delicious the bath would feel. How sorely she needed relaxation at the moment. First, however, she needed to dispatch Amiable.

  Mouth drawn, his gaze flickered restlessly from her to the tub.

  “Oh.” She jerked her head away before he could see the warmth coloring her cheeks. The images forming in Captain Dawson’s mind might be similar in nature to her dream earlier in the day. A sudden ache hit low in her belly and she couldn’t sit still. She stood.

  “I apologize for interrupting your bath, my lady.” Amiable lumbered to his feet. He nodded to the tub, keeping his gaze on it rather than her. “I will retire to my room now. I believe it is across the hall, two doors down on the right. If you have further need of me this evening, please send Glynis for me.” He bowed and strode toward the door.

  “You did not interrupt my bath, Captain Dawson,” Juliet whispered as he opened the door.

  He turned and raked his gaze over her for a long moment. “More’s the pity, Lady Juliet.” He cursed, clutched the door latch then jerked it open and left.

  How odd men acted sometimes. Still, he had followed her to the White Hart Inn. That mattered most of all. She crossed to the tub. Idly, she dipped her hand in and trailed her fingers through the exquisitely warm water. Perfect. The whole evening’s encounter had been perfect. Although if Amiable had arrived a mere ten minutes later…

  “More’s the pity,” she whispered. A blast of heat began in her face and spread until even her toes had turned red. She doffed her night rail and climbed into the tub. Best have another reason for her bright hue should Glynis reappear.

  * * * *

  Amiable strode into his room, shut the door and sagged against it. His only hope of staying upright.

  “
Why the devil did I say that?” Remembering her comely figure in a sheer nightgown beside the waiting bath, he closed his eyes. His groin stirred. He’d come to be her protector, not her debaucher. Still, images of Juliet, warm and wet and naked in that tub had popped into his head as he’d sat not two feet from her.

  Unthinkable. Thank God, he’d left her chamber before temptation became too great.

  Yet now, just down the hall, she would be sitting, relaxed in that tub, her shining hair piled haphazardly on her head, tendrils and wisps escaping to form a halo around her face. Her milky white complexion turned rosy by hot water, a deeper rose perhaps at the tips of breasts barely touching the water. Breasts that would feel soft and smooth beneath his fingers when he…

  “Christ.” He tore at his cravat, doffed jacket, waistcoat and shirt in quick order, then up-ended the whole pitcher of cool washing water over his head. Regrettably, it lacked the icy sting needed to break the spell his charming charge had woven around him. A freezing creek or a chilly spring would be more effective, but he’d have to settle for this tepid water and a little discipline.

  The problem was he hadn’t had company in his bed for more than two months because of the voyage from Virginia. So any woman would affect him thusly. The argument did not persuade him in the least. Something about Lady Juliet called to both his noble nature and his baser needs. A dangerous combination for a man in need of a wife.

  After he stripped off the rest of his clothes, he continued his vigorous washing then toweled himself dry. Not much effort needed there, with the night so uncomfortably warm. He pulled the covers all the way down and lay naked on top of the sheets, willing his mind and his aroused body to desist. It took a devilishly long time to do so.

  In the flickering light of the room’s one candle, Amiable stared at the ceiling, hoping that coming to the aid of this damsel in distress hadn’t been the worst mistake of his life.

  Chapter 6

  Next morning, after passing a long, restless night, Amiable stood in the middle of the small bedchamber and finished tying a serviceable knot in his cravat. A tap at his door and he opened it to find Glynis sinking into a curtsey.

  “My Lady Juliet—” She grimaced. “Beg pardon, Captain. Mrs. Dawson asks will you join her for breakfast this morning?”

  He grinned at the invitation. However, the maid’s unintentional lapse gave him concern. “Of course. Please tell Mrs. Dawson I would be delighted to join her in a few moments.”

  Glynis paled, then nodded and scurried down the hall.

  His emphasis might have hit its mark. Even such small inconsistencies could spell disaster for Lady Juliet. He moved back to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He wanted to be turned out as well as could be expected without a manservant’s care. A pity Parker had elected to remain in the colonies, and his father’s man, Edwards, who had come to London with him, had been too old to attempt this journey. He must engage a new valet as soon as he completed the adventure.

  The image in the glass just passed muster—after he adjusted the cravat once more—and he twisted his neck, studied his hair, neatly tied back with a simple black ribbon. He reached for the ribbon, bent on pulling it free and retying it, then caught himself.

  “Fool!” Dropping his arm back to his side, he turned from the mirror. “You are preening like the worst peacock imaginable.” He hastily donned a coat of dark gray uncut velvet over his silver waistcoat and black leather breeches. They were taking a meal together, nothing more. Still, he took time to settle the garment over his shoulders so it hung correctly and resisted the urge for one last look. He shut the door and strode down the hall to Juliet’s room.

  At his knock, Glynis opened the door and he entered.

  Juliet already sat at the small table, platters of meat, eggs, and bread cozily arranged between two place settings. She smiled and her eyes seemed to sparkle, although it might have been the sunlight reflecting off the china. “Good morning, Captain Dawson.”

  “Good morning, my dear.” He seated himself and smiled with caution. The sight of her fresh face, beaming over the breakfast dishes, sent a pang of longing through him. If he could make a wish for his future, this scene would be it.

  He tore his gaze away from her and grasped his teacup. These fancies were ridiculous. This time yesterday, he hadn’t even met the woman who sat across from him, daintily moving a fork laden with a bite of ham and egg into her mouth.

  Her mouth. Dear God, a luscious, red, perfect bow that begged to be kissed. She chewed slowly, the small circular movements a sensual treat beyond belief. If they were married, he would look like a scarecrow before long from watching her eat while his own food lay rejected on the plate.

  Amiable clenched his left hand and laid it on his lap. He would gain control of himself. This obsession was becoming embarrassing. He must make an end of it.

  “Did you sleep well, Captain?” The lilt of her voice blew through him like a hot wind.

  “Tolerable, my lady. I trust you slept well after your—” His mouth dried like dust. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, haunted by thoughts of her and that damned bath.

  “Tolerable also, Captain,” she broke in, blushing. “Will we press on immediately after breakfast, do you think?”

  The abrupt change in topic might indicate her awareness of his thoughts. God, why had he brought up that almost lewd exchange from last night?

  “I think it best we do not tarry. We are still close enough to London that St. Cyr might pick up the trail.”

  Her face paled and she clutched the silverware in her fist.

  He’d not meant to alarm her, but she sat trembling, her food quite forgotten. What had the man done so the merest mention of his name would cause such a reaction? Why would she be so terrified of him when she had been willing to marry him a year ago? He peered into her woebegone face. He’d have to let it go—for the moment.

  “I will make sure he doesn’t come near you, Lady Juliet. Trust me.” He patted her hand. An electric shock streaked through him—like one of Mr. Franklin’s lightning rods—striking him dumb.

  Her eyes flew open wide and she jumped.

  He snatched his hand away, his skin tingling as though burned. Hair stood on end all over his body. He breathed heavily, struggled for control. When he could meet her eyes he asked, “I beg your pardon, Lady Juliet. Did I hurt you just then?”

  Her gaze slid away from his. “No, Captain. I felt no hurt from your touch.” Her voice had an odd, high pitch.

  He watched her take a deep breath then manage a crooked smile. “You had better eat, Captain, if we are to be on the road ere noon.” She sipped her tea, composure returning.

  Best take her advice. With an effort, he concentrated on forkfuls of eggs, although remembrance of that touch crept into his thoughts once more. First her mouth, now her hand. Would he ever eat heartily again? He downed the rest of his tea and rose.

  “I’ll make sure Roberts has the carriage ready, and see to the bill.”

  “Captain Dawson, I insist on paying for our lodging.” She stood as well, her mouth firming into a delightful pout. Such a determined little thing.

  “It will look odd, Lady Juliet, if my wife takes care of the bill.” He stifled a grin at her sulky look. Did she always get her way? “We can discuss the financial arrangements later. If we are to make an early start, I must go now.”

  She nodded.

  Not totally unreasonable then. He caught her gaze, warm eyes the color of dark honey. A man could willingly drown there. A short bow and he left before he got into even more trouble.

  * * * *

  As soon as the door shut, Juliet laid her head on the table, too weak to sit upright. What had this man done to her? Turned her world upside down in less than a day. Lord, what he will have done by the evening?

  She rose, doused her handkerchief in the washbasin and mopped her face. If Glynis saw her hot cheeks, she’d think something amiss. Something called
Amiable Dawson. The burning in her face could be the result of the memory of their final bit of conversation last night. She would never take a bath again that she didn’t think of it.

  Or it stemmed from the brutally intense shock that had shot through her when he’d touched her hand. Thank heavens she’d been too stunned to cry out. Even now, his hand seemed to linger on hers, like a phantom’s touch. She shivered and went to supervise the packing, determined to hang on to her wits. Not an easy task since any proximity to Amiable seemed to addle her brain.

  She gave instructions to Glynis then set about repairing her appearance. She removed her shawl, donned a wide-brimmed straw hat over her pinner and assessed herself in the mirror. They would be riding together for hours, so she wanted to look her best. No reason not to offer him something pleasing to the eye.

  Her ribbed silk gown, a gold and floral meander print, was cut stylishly low at the bosom, although Glynis had just handed her a fichu to fill the breech. Well, such things could slip during the jostling of a carriage ride over rough roads. She smoothed the lace into place over her bosom then tugged it down a trifle. What he would see should hold his attention. Her breasts tingled with anticipation.

  In the inn yard, the carriage awaited, her knight at the door. She flashed him a smile of thanks as she climbed in, but it faltered when he also assisted Glynis in and shut the door without entering.

  “The day is so lovely, my dear, I thought I would ride a while. If you slept ill last night, perhaps you can stretch out and remedy the lack until we reach the next stop.” A short nod and he turned toward his horse.

  Juliet flounced back in her seat, tremendously irked. Staring out the window, she angled for at least a glimpse of her knight. Her feelings for him were so very different from those she’d professed for Philippe. To see Amiable, to talk with him gave her such pleasure as she had never known with the viscount. Perhaps an evil lust had inspired her craving for Philippe. She had relished his kisses much more than his conversation. Now nothing remained in her heart for him save loathing.