Longing.
Blooming hell.
“Told you to stay put in the carriage. But, oh no, you ’ad to be on the driver’s perch.”
Hawker’s grumbling focused her. She pulled away from him, scooting as far away as possible. Which wasn’t far, given that he took up two-thirds of the seat. Large under ordinary circumstances, Hawker in his caped winter greatcoat was as big as a bear. Misty droplets sheened his trimmed beard, which gleamed like polished mahogany.
“I am not a lady to be driven about,” she retorted. “If you would relinquish your male pride for a moment, you would see I am capable of driving—”
“Already told you when that would ’appen.” He angled his head, scanning her with his unpatched eye. “Done with the silent treatment, are you?”
She huffed out a breath. “Don’t flatter yourself. You will get no special treatment from me. Silent or otherwise.”
His laughter boomed, startling birds from a grove of threadbare maples. Despite herself, Pearl felt warmth seep through her at the merry sound. The feeling intensified when he reached over to tuck the woolen blanket more securely over her lap. She tensed, although the gesture was typical of Hawker. Even when they’d been at loggerheads this past year, he’d opened doors for her, offered her his arm, and served her the best cuts of meat at the servants’ table. During assignments, even though she could take care of herself, he’d guarded her as well as the Angels.
Pearl’s throat cinched. Before Hawker, she’d never had a man look out for her. Never had anyone—male or female, for that matter—who thought her worthy of protection.
That had to be why Hawker’s actions were making her slightly unhinged. Her mind was like an overboiling pot; unacceptable desires kept bubbling to the surface, and she couldn’t slam a lid on them. Then again, it was mere days before Christmas…the time of year she dreaded.
“Were you expecting gifts, dearie?”Her mama’s gin-slurred voice taunted her.“Ain’t got blunt for that. Meself, the only Christmas gift I e’er got was you. Born on the same day as Jesus, you were, but it weren’t no immaculate conception…”
“Ain’t looking for special treatment. All I want is a truce.” Hawker kept his gaze trained on the road, which cut a narrow, winding path through wooded lands. “It’s time we cleared the air.”
“There’s nothing to clear—”
“We’ve been at each other’s throats,” he declared. “Well, I’m sick o’ it. Sick o’ fighting with you when what I want is what we ’ad a year ago.”
His directness cornered her and made her heart thump like a rabbit’s foot.
“I told you. Last Christmas was a mistake—”
“Didn’t feel like a mistake. Neither did the recent interlude in Lady Fayne’s study. What it felt like to me, both times, was bleeding magic.”
Yearning flooded her. The irony was that she could have dealt with his anger. After the way she’d acted, she wouldn’t have blamed him for despising her. What he gave her instead was honesty, and it was far more devastating. And he wasn’t done.
“I want you, Pearl. ’Aven’t stopped wanting you for a goddamned year.” He slid her a glance. “Even though I’ve spent time in the company o’ other women.”
She refused to be jealous. “That is none of my concern.”
“It never went beyond a good night kiss with any o’ them.”
She also wasn’t going to be elated.
Ignoring the flutter in her chest, she lifted her brows. “Losing your touch?”
“My interest. As it turns out, you put other females in the shade.”
His blunt assessment stunned her. Hawker had measured other women against her…and found theotherslacking? From personal experience, she knew that he was a man of tremendous appetite. The memory blazed of how he’d licked her to orgasm three times before fisting his cock, the veins on his neck bulging as he exploded, splashing her belly with his hot seed. The fact that he’d had nothing but kisses for a yearbecause he wanted her and only her…
“Last Christmas was a mistake. Not because of you but me. I’m the problem.”
The instant she blurted the words, she wished she was a fleck of snow that could be swept away by the wind. Anything to escape the humiliation that was sure to follow.
His gaze kept her pinned. “Explain, Peabody.”
She took grim comfort in the fact that he didn’t deny her statement. Maybe he already knew something about her ignominious past; she knew there were whispers of her involvement with the female prizefighting club. Yet Hawker couldn’t know all of it. The shame woven into her history, the disgraceful threads that made her who she was.
Get it over with.
