JORDAN Nicole (25 page)

“Let’s move to the cottage,” Drew said. “It will be warmer there.”

“The doors may be locked,” she replied skeptically.

“Then we’ll break in. You can’t stay here in this condition.”

Leaving the shed, they made a dash through the rain for the front cottage door, which indeed was locked. Drew had to pry open a window in order to gain access. He climbed inside, then ushered Roslyn in through the door and slammed it behind her.

“I don’t think Mrs. Jearson will mind if we take refuge here,” Roslyn said breathlessly as she stood drenched and dripping, “but she won’t be pleased that we’ve damaged her home.”

“I’ll repay her, of course.”

The interior was cold and dark, since minimal light seeped in through the shutters. But it was spotlessly clean and quite comfortable—or it would be once they got a fire going in the hearth.

There were two rooms, Drew saw. The main one that served as living quarters and kitchen, and a smaller one to the rear that was obviously a bedchamber.

“The accommodations are not what a duke is accustomed to,” Roslyn said, moving to the kitchen. “Mrs. Jearson is a pensioner of Sir Alfred and Lady Perry—she was nanny to their children, but she has no other income.”

“It will do well enough,” Drew said with all honesty.

In truth, he was just as pleased that the widow wasn’t here. He hadn’t planned this debacle, but he was glad to have the chance to be alone with Roslyn. He not only wanted to clear the air between them, he wanted time to persuade her to accept his proposal of marriage.

Drew shook his head in sardonic amusement. The fact that he actually welcomed being caught in a chilling rainstorm so he could further his matrimonial goals was solid proof that he had gone a little daft.

A fire had been laid with logs, so he knelt on the rug in front of hearth to light the kindling, while Roslyn lit a lamp in the kitchen.

The glow helped present the illusion of comfort. The storm continued to lash the small cottage—wind shook the shutters and rain pounded on the roof—but inside the sounds were hushed.

“I don’t want to light the stove,” Roslyn said while searching through the cupboards, “since hopefully the storm will pass soon and we can be on our way. But I could make some tea at the fireplace.”

“Can you?” Drew asked.

“Yes. There is a canister of tea here and fresh water in an urn.”

“I meant, do you know how?”

“I am capable of boiling water, your grace,” she replied, her tone dry.

His mouth twitched. “I don’t doubt you are a woman of many talents,” he said as he sat in a wooden chair to remove his sodden boots. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know much about cooking.”

Across the room, Roslyn shrugged. “We were raised to privilege, but we had to learn any number of new skills once we lost our home and fortunes.” Glancing up, she regarded him across the room. “You seem surprised.”

He was indeed surprised. He couldn’t imagine his imperious mother deigning to make her own tea over an open fire, or grooming her own horses either.

But Roslyn seemed efficient as she filled the kettle and hung it in the hearth to boil.

Then remaining there, she held her chilled hands out before the struggling fire. Even over the snapping flames, Drew could hear her teeth chattering, and she was obviously shivering.

“You had best take off your wet gown,” he said casually as he pulled off his second boot and started on his stockings.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch. “You cannot be serious.”

“Do you think I mean to ravish you? When you look as appealing as a bedraggled cat?”

She studied him silently, a worried frown creasing her brow.

Drew kept his expression bland. He had meant to set her at ease regarding his lascivious intentions, but even with her looking like the pitiful victim of a shipwreck, he still felt an uncommonly powerful attraction for her. And seeing her soaked and shivering brought out his protective instincts, along with other less-nurturing urges that were strong and powerfully male.

“There should be some blankets in the bedchamber. You can swathe yourself head to toe.”

“Thank you, but I will be fine as I am.”

“You would rather freeze?”

“I think perhaps I might.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be foolish. I have seen your charms more than once, angel. Taking off your gown would hardly be a worse offense.”

“Please, donot remind me. Last night was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

Drew couldn’t disagree more. Last night had certainlynot been a mistake—and he meant to make Roslyn understand that.

“I am crushed,” he drawled. “My first proposal of marriage ever, and you fling it back in my face.”

“Because you weren’t at all serious.”

“I beg to differ. I was deadly serious.”

Roslyn’s short laugh held little amusement. “You were only trying to demonstrate your prowess. You are devastatingly adept at lovemaking, and you wanted to prove how easily you could seduce me. It meant nothing to you.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said in a low voice.

Instead of answering, she faced the fire again and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop shivering.

“Roslyn,” Drew said again, “go take off your gown before you catch your death. I promise I won’t ravish you.”At least not without invitation.

“No. Last night was bad enough.”

“You’re afraid Haviland will learn we are here together, but I won’t tell him, I promise.”

“Haviland, among others. It is highly improper for us to be here alone like this, even if we had little choice.”

But Drew’s attention was still focused on his rival. “You haven’t told me how your drive with him went this morning. Did you even go?”

“Yes, I drove out with him,” she said slowly.

“After I specifically asked you not to?”

Roslyn turned her head to stare at him. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Haviland.”

He wanted to deny it, but even to his own ears his tone held irritation and impatience. Curse it all, of course he could be jealous. Roslyn wanted another man. Lord, how he hated the idea.

Before he could reply, another wracking shudder ran through her, which only added to his growing ire. When she clenched her teeth together to keep them from clacking, Drew had had enough.

“Roslyn, my sweet, take yourself into the bedchamber and divest yourself of those wet garments before I do it for you.”

She eyed him for a long moment before giving an exasperated sigh. “You probably would, wouldn’t you?”

“Most assuredly.”

She didn’t quite stalk into the other room, but she was clearly not happy about having to obey his order.

During her absence, Drew took the opportunity to remove most of his own soggy clothing—his cravat and waistcoat and shirt—and hung them on wall pegs to dry. In the interest of propriety, he left on his drawers and breeches, no matter how cold and clammy they were, and crossed to the hearth to warm his chilled body before the growing blaze.

But even that, apparently, was too risqué for Roslyn. When a brief while later she emerged from the bedchamber with her feet bare and a quilt wrapped around her shoulders, she came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened as she surveyed his partial state of undress, the blush staining her cheeks revealing her discomfort.

“I f-found a blanket for you,” she stammered. “You should cover yourself.”

“I will be happy to.”

When he made no move toward her, though, she slowly crossed to him and handed him the blanket. Drew draped it around his shoulders as Roslyn quickly turned away. His loins had hardened at the thought of her naked beneath that quilt, but when it parted slightly, he saw that she’d kept on her chemise, even though the lawn fabric was wet.

She was carrying her sopping gown and other undergarments, however, and hung them on wall pegs before casting him a wary glance as if to ask, “Now what?”

Drew was very aware of the sudden tension in the air, just as he knew she was.

She was also still trembling with cold.

“Come warm yourself at the fire,” he said, feigning indifference.

She obeyed with obvious reluctance—and then jumped when he reached up touch her hair. “What are youdoing ?”

“Taking down your hair. It’s still dripping wet. You need to dry it if you hope to get warm.”

Her indecision was understandable; she couldn’t remove the pins from her hair and still keep hold of the quilt.

She stood stock-still while his fingers searched for the pins that held up the heavy gold mass, then smoothed the damp tresses down her back. “There, that should help.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing up at him.

Drew sucked in a sharp breath. The light thrown by the flames cast a golden glow over her beautiful face. She was temptation itself, and he wasn’t able to resist.

Slowly he lifted his hand to her face, letting his thumb trace her jaw.

“I th-think I had best make the tea,” Roslyn said shakily.

“The water isn’t hot yet.”

When he moved his fingers to her lips, she drew in a sharp breath, too. “You promised….” Her protest was no more than a whisper.

His smile was tender. “I said I wouldn’t ravish you, and I won’t.”But ravishment implies lack of consent, he added silently to himself,and I promise your consent won’t be lacking.

“Sit here on the rug,” he said aloud, moving his hands to her shoulders to nudge her down. When she complied, he knelt behind her.

Roslyn went rigid. “Drew….”

“Hush, sweeting. Let me warm you.” He slid his arms around her, along with his blanket. “You’re half frozen.”

Leaning closer, he eased her down so that they both lay on their sides, her head resting on his left arm, his bare chest pressed against her back, his loins cradling her derriere. Although her quilt still separated them, he knew she could feel his body heat.

He felt an inexplicable heat inside him as well, despite the chill of his flesh. It was possibly madness, what he was contemplating, but instinct drove him, not reason.

Gazing into the crackling fire, Drew found himself smiling at the irony. After so many years of eluding matrimony, he was about to make the choice irrevocable. He intended to make love to Roslyn here and now. To claim her for his bride.

His surrender seemed somehow fated, though, and shortly Roslyn would feel the same way. She was willfully deceiving herself, Drew reflected. She felt a mutual passion for him, he was certain of it, even though she stubbornly continued to deny it.

And before they left this cottage, he would prove it to her conclusively.

Chapter Eleven

==================================

ABC Amber LIT Converter v2.02

==================================

I now see why you were persuaded to surrender your innocence in a moment of weakness—because passion is so incredible.

—Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn lay wrapped in his arms, not daring to move. She was conscious of how wildly her heart was thudding, how intensely her senses had sharpened.

The fire threw a welcome heat into the small room, yet the flames had little to do with her increasing warmth. Rather it was because Arden lay so close behind her, his hard-muscled body spooning hers, with only a quilt to separate them.

She’d been a little shocked to find him nearly unclothed. Her admiring eyes had riveted on the broad expanse of his bare chest, on the sinewed torso sculpted by firelight. His body was strong and graceful and even more breathtaking than she had imagined—sleek, golden, beautifully male. Seeing him like that had roused a giddy, fluttery sensation in her stomach, which had only compounded tenfold when he lay down with her before the hearth.

For the longest time they didn’t speak. Roslyn stared into the flickering flames, vaguely aware of the hypnotic effect on her taut nerves. The cottage had started to grow cozy, further lulling her. The storm continued to rage outside—rain pounding, wind moaning—but the sounds were muted inside. She could better hear the creaking rafters, the crackling hearth fire, her erratic heartbeats.

Behind her, Arden was nearly still…except for sifting a lock of her hair through his fingers. When he leaned closer to press his lips against her hair, Roslyn didn’t flinch as she ought, but her pulse raced even harder. Then he eased away from her, and she held her breath.

Moving with a languid grace, he turned her toward him, so that she lay on her back, looking up at him as he braced his weight on one elbow. His blanket had slipped down so that his shoulders and chest gleamed in the firelight, and so did his eyes.

She stared back, transfixed, her heart flipping over in her chest.

Reaching up, he touched her face gently, his hand trailing over her cheek and feathering over her hair. “You tempt me unbearably,” he murmured, his gaze locked with hers.

You tempt me unbearably, too,Roslyn thought wildly.

His gaze dropped to rest on her mouth. “I intend to kiss you, sweeting.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He bent his head to her then, his breath warm on her mouth as he began to kiss her. His lips moved slowly on hers, his pace unhurried, lingering. Even at that slightest pressure, heat kindled inside her. And when he leaned even closer, the heat from his body bathed her heightened senses.

Roslyn nearly moaned as a stabbing rush of longing assaulted her. Knowing she had to protest, she freed her hands from the quilt and pushed against his shoulders, fighting the dizzying delight he so effortlessly conjured inside her.

She was inexplicably disappointed, however, when his tantalizing kiss unexpectedly ended.

Arden lifted his head, gazing down at her as he peeled back the edges of the quilt that wrapped her body. When she would have pulled it back around her, he gently caught her wrists and drew them closer, pressing her palms against his chest, inviting her hands to explore the hard, tempting expanse. His flesh was smooth and hot; muscles rippled and played beneath satiny skin. She could feel the powerful thud of his heartbeat against his rib cage as well, which made urgent desire flare though her body.