An Officer but No Gentleman (4 page)

Chapter Eight

Opened eyes! The little minx had no idea of what she’d done, of what she’d asked. He’d broken his cardinal rule. Eyes shut was his impenetrable wall, the one place where no one could reach him without his permission. Yet he’d let
her
in simply because she’d asked. Grahame shifted his body to adjust his position and she stirred beside him, lifting her sleep-tousled head in question.

“Go back to sleep,” Grahame admonished softly. “Tomorrow will be a long day. We don’t stop until we reach Dover.”

Elowyn settled back to sleep, snuggling against him, her body soft and warm. His arm tightened about her. He should have been gone hours ago to his own bed. No good could come of lying here, holding her and pretending he wasn’t a poor woman’s son and she wasn’t a gentleman’s daughter, or pretending he wasn’t a paid escort who’d spent the last four years in London pleasuring the ton’s finest ladies on command. She could justify a fling with a dashing cavalry captain but the rest? Elowyn would die if she knew. She would feel betrayed, as if tonight had been nothing but another game to him. Grahame vowed in the darkness she would never find out. They would part ways in Vienna and that would be the end.

Perhaps it was the need to impress her so she might never guess he was more (or less) than what he seemed that drove him the next day. He was the perfect captain, all military precision with his orders and organization. Maybe it was simply the weather and his own urgency to cross the Channel. His deadline loomed. A delay in Dover would ruin his prospects at the riding school.

As if in ill portent, the sunny September skies that had met them that morning steadily darkened to gray as they journeyed toward Dover. By the time his little caravan pulled into Dover, he was certain. Bad weather was imminent. He would have to act quickly in order to avoid delay.

Grahame helped Elowyn down from the carriage with mannerly correctness. No one watching them would guess he’d spent the night in her bed. Perhaps that had been part of what had driven him, too. He had her reputation to protect, even if it was just among her retainers. But a show of polite distance didn’t mean his body was immune to her presence. She looked stunning in a dark blue traveling costume cut in the fitted military style, the jacket nipped in tight at the waist, her hair piled up under a matching hat.

Elowyn’s eyes went to the sky. “It seems you might have been right about the need for an early departure.” She turned to him, her eyes holding his for a long moment, searching for something. He could guess what that might be—encouragement, direction, expectation. What were they to be to one another after their mad night?

He’d found the willpower in the early light of dawn to leave her bed before she awoke, and they had not spoken beyond the exchange of what was necessary to get underway. But he did not think what might be interpreted as aloofness on his part would deter Elowyn. Nor did he think she would misunderstand it. She was a woman of the world. She would know it was necessary in order to preserve an outward show of propriety. Most of the retainers with them, those who’d driven the wagons, would return to London after the household goods were loaded onto the boat. She wouldn’t want them carrying tales back.

The inn at Dover was high-end, the best that could be had for their situation and circumstance. There’d be no cockfighting crowd here. It would be safe enough to leave Elowyn in charge. “I will go down to the docks and see what the news is.”

“I will come with you,” Elowyn said firmly. “Annie can oversee the unloading of what we need.”

Grahame gave a wry smile. “Let’s rephrase that, my dear. Of what
you
need. I only need my valise. I doubt unpacking my items is a chore that requires any specific skill. And no, you are not coming to the docks.” Not after her show in the inn yard yesterday.

“I want to make sure the storage will be acceptable for my items,” Elowyn persisted. He would have to be strong here.

“Your household needs you here to organize things. There is much to do and I cannot be in both places at once,” Grahame answered with equal firmness. “When I return, we’ll discuss my news over dinner and decide what to do from there.”

Elowyn seemed to weigh his words. She gave a short nod and flashed him a private smile. “All right. I’ll have dinner waiting. You can think about that while you’re down touring the docks.” His groin tightened, his body recalling what she’d done with dessert.

“I shall lick forward to it, Miss Bagshaw.”

Her eyes danced and he realized too late what he’d said out loud. “I believe the word is
look
, Captain. Perhaps tonight, I’ll be the one doing the licking.”

Good Lord, he was rock hard in the middle of an inn yard. Maybe a storm on the Channel wasn’t bad news after all if it meant he could stay holed up at the inn with Elowyn.

* * *

Grahame had bad news. She could tell by the speed with which he’d ridden into the yard and dismounted. Elowyn stepped back from the window in her room on the second floor. He was going to tell her they’d have to wait, that they were too late to cross until the storm passed. She hated waiting. The journey was long enough as it was without being stalled in port.

“Grahame’s back.” She shot a worried look at her maid. “It doesn’t look good. I’m going downstairs to meet him.” He was back too soon. She’d hardly had time to get her trunks upstairs, let alone order that dinner she’d promised.

She didn’t get out the door before Grahame knocked. He’d certainly moved fast, which made her worry all the more. “You’re back awfully quick.” She tried to smile as she opened the door.

“How fast can you be ready to leave?”

Elowyn did not miss the underlying urgency to the question, but that did not mitigate the presumption that she
would
leave.

“Leave?” That was not the news she’d been expecting. “We just got here. Annie just got the pillows on the bed.”

“Will forty-five minutes be enough?” Grahame was already striding through her room like a storm, tossing a traveling bag on the bed and riffling her trunks. That made her mad. One night of mutual pleasure did not give him permission to barge into her room like he had her house.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Grahame threw something lacy on the bed. “Be careful with that! It’s French silk.” Elowyn snatched the delicate garment up from the bed and hugged it to her chest.

Grahame grunted. “That’s no good. Do you have anything warmer? Flannel, maybe?”

Heaven help her, she had a mad man in her room. Elowyn crossed the room and grabbed his hands. “Stop it. Tell me what’s going on? You’re making no sense.”

Grahame paused his rummaging and looked at her, appearing altogether surprisingly sane. “Our boat leaves in forty-five minutes on the evening tide. If we’re not on it, we wait, quite possibly for a week until I can make other arrangements.” Desperation lay beneath his tone. She could tell the prospect of making those arrangements disgusted him. More than that, it upset him.

“Our boat isn’t scheduled to leave until tomorrow.” Elowyn sent out a challenging probe.

“Captain Anderson isn’t going to wait. He doesn’t want to chance the weather. He has a private mail pouch that has to get through.” That wasn’t all. There was more. Something he wasn’t telling her.

“He’ll be back. We’ll go in a couple of days when he returns.”

Grahame shook his head. “Anderson isn’t scheduled back in Dover for another month. If we stay, we’ll have to find another boat.” She knew how onerous that would be. It would have to be a big boat, one that could hold the cargo of a household. Anderson’s boat had been perfect.

Elowyn blew out a sigh. The situation was becoming impossible. “New boat or not, we can’t possibly have all our things loaded in forty-five minutes. It will take that long to get the wagons to the docks.” Not even the amazing Grahame Westmore could magically whisk the wagons down to the docks in time.

“I’m not talking about taking your things, Elowyn,” Grahame began slowly. His grip tightened on her hands. “Just you. You and I can cross tonight and continue on. Annie and Christopher can bring the other things later and travel at their leisure. Christopher is more than capable of seeing the goods transferred and the drivers returned.”

Something moved in Grahame’s gray eyes. For reasons she could not guess, he needed this. He needed her to go with him now. Yet how could she leave all this responsibility?

Annie stepped forward. “You needn’t be concerned on this end, miss. We can handle everything here. Christopher and I have moved with you before. Think about your father. He’ll worry if you’re late and there’s no way to get word to him.”

She did think of her father. Annie was right. He would worry himself sick. He would think of her mother, how she’d been late on that last trip and what it had meant. He had not worried back then, thinking her delay a natural consequence of travel in winter and that she was likely tucked up in a cozy inn. To this day, he still blamed himself. If he’d gone out searching for her earlier, he might have been in time. Elowyn could not put him through that doubt again.

Her decision was made. “We’ll go. I’ll be downstairs shortly.” Was that relief in Grahame’s eyes? Again, she had the sensation that he needed this beyond simply fulfilling his job for her father, beyond adherence to Captain Anderson’s desire to leave early.

Grahame gave a tight smile. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements with Christopher.” He glanced about the room. “No trunks, just the one bag. It’s all there’s time for.”

She drew a deep breath and looked about the very nice room with a fire and her good sheets. Neither of which she’d get to enjoy. “Quickly, Annie, help me pack.” If she stayed busy there’d be no time to think about what she’d just done. There was no question of who was in charge now. She’d given up control of the trip when she agreed to travel alone through Europe with Captain Grahame Westmore.

Chapter Nine

And his horse. She got to bring a valise. He got to bring his horse! “How is it that I only rate one bag?” Elowyn tried a halfhearted attempt at humor down in the hold where Aramis was stabled. But it was hard to be funny while the water rolled and pitched beneath her feet. They might be ahead of the storm coming down out of the North Sea, but it certainly didn’t ensure smooth sailing.

Grahame gave a little chuckle and stroked Aramis’s dark mane. She allowed herself a moment’s jealousy, imagining those hands on her. She could use a little stroking about now. She’d been in difficult spots before but that didn’t mean she liked them, or excelled at them. “If this ship goes down, you’ll be glad he’s here.” Grahame crooned to the big stallion. “You’re a fabulous swimmer, aren’t you, old boy?”

That was too intriguing to let pass. Elowyn scooted forward on the bale of hay she sat on. “And we know this how?”

“He and I swam to shore after a transport we were on sank off the coast of Crete. The Mediterranean was a bit warmer that time of year than the Channel would be, though.” He smiled, letting the effort crinkle the corners of his eyes as he looked at his stallion with unmistakable affection. “Aramis and I have been through a lot and I’ve had no truer friend.”

Grahame sobered and looked her direction. “If the worst happens, get him free and hold on to his bridle. He’ll get you to land. Do you have your knife?”

Elowyn lifted her skirt to reveal the sheath on her calf.

“Good. You can cut your skirts off if you need to. They’ll drag you down.”

“Is all this really necessary?” She did not care for such grim talk, especially from the indomitable Grahame Westmore. She had no doubt that if strength of will could keep a ship together, he would be the man to do it.

Grahame shrugged. “A crisis is always better when you have a plan. But no, I don’t think you’ll need it. Ships have crossed safely in far worse weather. Odds are we’ll be fine. Captain Anderson has no death wish. He wouldn’t have set out not feeling certain it was the best choice.”

Elowyn managed a smile. “I’ll try to find reassurance in that somewhere.” The boat lurched and she braced herself with a hand to the wall.

“You can go up. Anderson has his cabin set aside for you,” Grahame replied as he steadied Aramis.

“No, I’ll be fine here.” No matter how bad the night got, she would be safe with him and his swimming horse. That might have been the moment she fell for him, right there in the dark hold of a storm-tossed ship. All else might be turmoil around them, but he was a literal pillar of strength—confident and sure, never wavering in the long night.

So sure of that strength was she, Elowyn actually slept, her head braced against the wall, her body curled on the hay bale. She didn’t sleep well, of course, there were limits after all. She awoke once to find a blanket had been draped over her, another time to find a makeshift pillow beneath her head, and every time to see Grahame standing at Aramis’s head, a reminder that she was safe.

It was Grahame who woke her in the morning with a gentle shake. He knelt down beside her rough bed and brushed back her hair, his voice soft at her ear. “We’ll be in port momentarily, my dear. We made it. Aramis will have to demonstrate his swimming skills another time.”

Elowyn smiled and sat up. “Ouch.” She put a hand to her neck. “I’m stiff everywhere.” And now that the ship had stopped rocking, she was hungry, tired and must look as rumpled as she felt. But she did not dare complain. Grahame would not be impressed with complaints. He’d provided her every comfort at his disposal: a blanket, a pillow, even a bed of sorts, while he’d gone without, standing sentinel for her and Aramis all night.

“Stiff everywhere?” Grahame teased. “And I thought I had it bad. I am only stiff in one spot.”

Elowyn laughed and swatted at his shoulder. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m alive, my dear, and I want to celebrate it.” He kissed her just as Captain Anderson came down the stairs. It was time to unload Aramis and get off the ship. Elowyn didn’t have to be asked twice. Not because she’d had her fill of sailing but because a warm bath and a room awaited her in Ostend and she had every intention of enjoying them both with Grahame.

Traveling light had its benefits. True, she wouldn’t have her own sheets tonight, but on the bright side, all they’d had to do was walk Aramis off the ship and go straight to the inn. There was no waiting while trunks were loaded and wagons arranged. The result was that half an hour after leaving the ship, her bath was ready.

Behind the dressing screen, she slipped off her robe and sank into the water. Ah, it felt good. This was heaven, right here in the tub next to the fire. The innkeeper had thought she was crazy for wanting a bath so early in the morning. But this was absolutely divine, or at least it would be. She smiled to herself. She was missing one thing. She could hear him moving around in the room beyond the screen. Elowyn called out, “Grahame, come join me. I hear warm baths work wonders for stiffness of all kinds.”

“I wouldn’t want it to work too well.” Grahame came around the screen, already pulling his shirt off. “For the record, I do think this is a trick to see me naked.”

“It seems to be working.” Elowyn laughed. She was feeling decidedly giddy, a combination of elation and lack of sleep. She leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. “Stand over there.” Elowyn gestured a bubble-covered hand toward the foot of the tub. “I can see you disrobe better that way.”

“Brazen wench.” Graham grinned and bent to pull off his boots. “How is this? Can you see me now?” he teased.

Elowyn sent a splash of water his way. “Yes, I can. There’s just not much to see,
yet
.” Although there was. Grahame was bare-chested, showing off the tanned, smooth musculature of his torso in all its glorious planes and ridges. Certainly, she’d felt the power of his body when he held her, but to see the proof of it so boldly on display was another thing entirely. There were scars, too, reminders that this power had been tried and tested. Her hands wanted to trace those scars. She wanted to hear those stories.

Grahame’s hands dropped to his waistband, his eyes a wicked gleam of silver as his gaze held hers. “I hope this will change your mind, a little something for the girl who hasn’t seen anything good
yet
.”

He was a consummate flirt beneath that officer exterior of his. She wondered how many people ever saw him like this. More important, how many women saw him like this? It wasn’t a very ladylike question to want to know but it was driven by curiosity. She knew so little about him, technically, and yet she felt she knew him in ways she’d never known her other lovers, or had
wanted
to know them. She’d been happy with the physical level of those liaisons. She’d not even been tempted to take them further.

That was not the case with Grahame. Physical intimacy had simply whetted her appetite for more emotional intimacies. She wanted to know him and there was danger in that. Nothing could come of this beyond momentary pleasure.

Grahame pushed his trousers and smalls down past his hips too slowly for her tastes. She let out a breath and blew bubbles in the water while he grinned at her impatience. “Good things come to those who wait, my dear.”

They most certainly did. There at last, he stood before her entirely naked. Last night it had been too dark. There’d been no time to study him. But now, in the morning light, she wanted to study every glorious inch of him, although her eyes had a will of their own. They wanted to rest on the long, jutting phallus and the other manly accoutrements of him. He was absolutely, splendidly male. “You make my mouth water.”

Grahame laughed and slid into the tub behind her, making the water rise and slosh as he wrapped his legs about her and pulled her close, that envious phallus pressing up against her bottom in the suds. “I’ll taste better when I’m clean, I promise.” Grahame dropped a kiss along Elowyn’s jaw and nibbled at her ear. “Mmm. You taste better already.”