He kept his gaze trained upon the road, his lips compressed in a grim line as silence stretched, punctuated only by the clop of the horse’s hooves and the jangling of tack. Pamela didn’t know if it was the wine she’d consumed, bubbling up inside her and filling her with recklessness, or if it was merely the man at her side who had such an effect upon her, but she was suddenly rather nettled that he had come to her rescue, only to ignore her.
“Are you not going to speak to me, now that you’ve had your way?” she asked curtly, clutching her reticule and her wrap in a white-knuckled grasp.
He didn’t speak for the span of a few hoof clops.
“I haven’t had my way, Marchioness,” Beast said at last, not even deigning to glance in her direction.
Her gaze dipped and caught again on his hands, so large and capable, holding the reins. The urge to feel them on her was a visceral ache she couldn’t control. She wanted them on her, skin to skin.
No, Pamela, she cautioned herself inwardly.You must not allow yourself to succumb to temptation.
“It seems to me as if you have,” she couldn’t resist adding, careful to keep her voice cool. And above all, to cease looking at his hands and thinking about how they would feel, learning her body. “You have coerced me into being paraded about London in the midst of the night with you instead of waiting in the private comfort of my carriage.”
“Hmm,” was all he said, a noncommittal sound that bordered on a grunt.
More quiet ensued, during which time Pamela became acutely aware of his thigh brushing against hers with each rattle of the cabriolet over the roads. She pressed her knees together in an attempt to keep from touching him, but that only served to heighten the need pulsing between her thighs.
“Why did you come for me?” she blurted, unable to keep from asking the question that continued to prod at her. “If Ridgely didn’t send you, and if the groom was already returning with help to repair the coach, why would you seek me out and demand I accompany you to Hunt House?”
Still, he refused to look at her. “Your welfare is my responsibility.”
She knew a sharp stab of disappointment at his response, but then she realized it didn’t quite pass muster.
Pamela pursed her lips and watched him before adding, “I thought my brother’s welfare was your responsibility.”
“The safety of everyone in his household is my duty,” Beast replied.
His response didn’t appease her. If anything, it only increased her frustration and irritation. But then, what had she supposed it meant, him seeking her out? Did her foolishness know no bounds?
“I suppose I must thank you, then,” she said acidly. “For doing your duty.”
“You needn’t.” He cast her a quick glance that she couldn’t read before returning his eyes to the road. “I’m being paid handsomely by His Grace.”
That quite set her teeth on edge. “Of course.”
Her voice was tight, even to her own ears. All the warmth that had flooded her at his sudden appearance had fled. He had made it clear that he hadn’t been playing the gallant knight riding to her rescue. And that was just as well, for if he had, then what would she do? What could she do?
Nothing. Pamela turned her attention to the darkened street, trying to ignore the possibility that the other carriages passing them could contain someone who would recognize her and carry the tale of this midnight drive to others. She could simply ignore his presence at her side. Keep her gaze averted, her head down. In the shadows, in an unmarked cabriolet, it was likely that no one would know her.
“All the same, I’m happy no harm came to you this evening, Marchioness,” he said suddenly, so softly that she almost thought she’d misheard him.
She blinked, her head jerking toward him. But he simply sat there, holding the reins in his grasp as easily as before, gaze straight ahead. There was nothing for her to look at but his handsome profile, which she cursed for being so dratted perfect.
“Undoubtedly, I ought to say something polite in return, but I don’t think I like you very much,” she told him. “You’re likely only pleased nothing ill befell me because it would keep you from your precious coin.”
“Hmm,” he said again.
And then, he uttered not a word more as the cabriolet rattled through the streets, taking her to Hunt House. Pamela told herself it was just as well. But every jostle of the conveyance that brought their bodies into contact made a liar of her.
CHAPTER7
Theo told himself he should wander to the chamber he’d been given for the night—one of the less-formal guest bedchambers a floor below Lady Deering’s, a nod not to his formerly royal roots but to the fact that the Duke of Ridgely wanted him to be nearer to the sleeping quarters during the night hours. He hadn’t slept the night before, and although he had intended to garner a few hours of slumber during the daylight, he hadn’t managed it either. Between reporting to Tierney and the duke and taking another assessment of Hunt House, there simply hadn’t been the opportunity.
He was weary, and he trusted the men on duty tonight with his life. He knew that no intruder would find his way within the newly fortified walls of the duke’s massive town house. And yet, here he was, navigating slowly through the darkened hall on the floor above. Because apparently, having her deliciously curved body rub against him the entire ride in the cabriolet hadn’t caused him sufficient anguish.
Every part of him had been yearning to take her in his arms and kiss her as he so longed. To kiss her before every passing carriage and show the damned world that she was his, that he’d laid his claim upon her, as impossible and ridiculous as that foolish notion was.
The Marchioness of Deering would never be his. Could never be his. And anyway, she didn’t like him. She’d proclaimed so with cutting certainty on their ride back to Hunt House. He had been sitting at her side, calling upon all the restraint and control he possessed to keep from touching her, looking at her, or worse, hauling her into his lap. All the while, she had been stewing that he had dared to endanger her reputation by driving her home at midnight instead of leaving her to her fate.
