He chided himself and dragged his attention back to the road. Phyllis was doing an admirable job pulling the cart, although they were traveling at a far slower pace than they would bein the carriage. Making it to Barrington by Friday would be a challenge, and not for the first time, he questioned if helping Adelaide reach her wedding was the best thing for her. She’d been a vision the night before, learning to ask for her pleasure. When he thought they’d only have one night together, he’d wanted to bring her to that peak, to show her what to ask for from her betrothed.
But now, he faced another night with her, another chance to prove she’d been made for passion. And knowing she intended for the marriage to be chaste, his need became a tangible thing, driving logical thought from his mind. She was chaos without a hint of self-preservation, and would drive him mad if he attempted to manage her. But she shouldn’t be managed; she should be set free. And, God help him, did he want to try.
The nettlesome thought pushed to the forefront once more. Would the apprenticeship alone be enough to fill the empty ache in his chest? His vision for his future contained more than his employment, but also featured a family, a wife who would challenge him and children who adored them both.
Those children suddenly had honey-blond hair and full, dimpled cheeks.
When the donkey appeared to be slowing, Will directed her to the side of the road. He could have stopped the cart in the middle and not interfered with anyone’s travel, as they’d only passed one wagon ago. Roused by the change in motion, Adelaide lifted her head and met his eyes. Hers were hooded, her lips parted. So damned beautiful he nearly fell off the cart entirely.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice raspy as she pressed her hand to his chest. “I hope I didn’t drool on you or talk in my sleep.”
His skin heated beneath her touch. “You needed your rest. And your snores aren’t nearly as loud as mine.”
She gasped in mock outrage, then wrinkled her nose. “I was only tired because someone exhausted me last night.”
Her cheeks flushed red as she cringed, and something in Will’s chest cracked open. He took her hand and waited for her to meet his gaze again. “I’m sorry for what I said this morning, especially if it made you believe I regret what happened last night.” He leaned close, drifted the back of his finger over the impossibly soft skin of her cheek. “I don’t regret a moment of it.”
“You don’t?” He hated the uncertainty in her voice, particularly since he put it there.
“No.”I wish our circumstances were different. I wish I had more time with you. I wish I was the man waiting for you in a church in Barrington.
He shook his head to banish the thought far too late, as the idea of being Adelaide’s betrothed had taken up residence in his mind and was gleefully shoving anything unnecessary—memorized Bible verses, the recipe for vegetable soup, his cousin’s birthdates—out of its way. She was more important.
The edge of her lip twitched, as though she were fighting a smile, and the ache in his chest diminished as he swung himself from the bench and put his hands to her waist to help her down. “Let’s get you something to eat, aye?”
After Will and Adelaide (and Phyllis) relieved themselves, he set the donkey free to graze while Adelaide spread out the bedroll and the contents of the luncheon he’d gathered at the inn before their departure. The heat of the previous day had abated enough that resting in their spot beneath a massive walnut tree was pleasant, not an exercise in endurance.
Adelaide stretched her muslin skirts as she sat, covering her ankles as though she hadn’t dug them into his shoulder blades the night before. Thick and heady arousal rushed through him as he watched her prepare a sandwich with brown bread and sliced chicken.
Good lord, the way she made sandwiches was arousing. He was doomed.
He cleared his throat and latched onto the only thread of conversation he could manage while all the blood rushed from his brain to his cock. “Did you really have a governess named Phyllis?”
Her expression softened, and she put down her sandwich, patting a napkin against her lips. “I did. Well, not exactly. Her name was Mrs.Phillips, but as a girl, I couldn’t get it right. She humored me, and it became somewhat of a joke between us. The imaginary nanny my father never met.”
“Was she with you for a long time?”
The affection in her voice was palpable. “She started with us when I was six, after none of my previous nannies could tolerate my beastly behavior.” She rolled her eyes. “When she realized I knew how to behave but simply chose not to, she let me indulge my wilder side, within reason.”
He raised one brow in question, and she smirked. “We went to the menagerie in Central Park, and I tried to roar louder than the lions, but only after I’d properly introduced myself with a curtsey. Then she’d take me for tea and cakes where we’d discuss bugs and history.” Adelaide lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone. “She was the one who taught me about Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, although it wasn’t intentional. She’d left a copy of theDeclaration of Sentimentsin her bag, and I discovered it when I was hunting for a sweet.”
“How did your mother and father feel about you reading such revolutionary texts?”
“Pish. Granting women the right to vote is anything butrevolutionary. It's simply rational!” The brightness faded a bit from her eyes, as though a cloud had passed over the sun. “My mother and father weren’t concerned with what I was doing, as long as I dressed for dinner and remained silent when they paraded me out for guests.”
Will shifted, stretched his legs out in front of him, anything to dispel the agitation in his bones. “How dreadful.”
“It wasn’t like that for you, I’m sure.” She sipped from the bottle of lemonade before handing it over to him. “At least before your father passed.”
The empathy in her voice landed like a blow to the chest, and his throat tightened. He hesitated before drinking as he recalled his childhood, the family meals with parishioners, learning to cook at his mother’s knee or to play chess with his father. They’d always wanted more children, but his mum said the Lord had blessed them enough with William, and they needed no more. Will was certain she wasn’t sharing the truth, but never questioned her. Perhaps he should have.
“No,” he said, hoping his voice wouldn’t break. “They loved—love me, a great deal.”
She hummed, selected a fat strawberry from the basket, and nibbled on the end. “Your mother must be proud of you for your apprenticeship, and the work you do. Is she?”
Will nodded, sipped the lemonade, waited for the lump in his throat to feel less urgent. When it did, he found words pushing their way out. “She never said it, but I suspect she wished I started university instead of apprenticing, but I didn’t want her to work while she was mourning.”
Her lapis eyes assessed him so thoroughly she felt her gaze in his soul. “You didn’t answer my question, Will.”
