Not that it was his problem. He hadn’t taken Marianne into this bargain to repair whatever damage others had done to her. He’d done it for himself. For his gratification.
She shifted a little, letting out a tiny moan in her sleep, and his body clenched. He had already gone too far with her, an innocent. A lady. Ruined her just by taking her on this trip, not to mention when he spread her wide and made her come.
And he would do more to her. So much more.
“You are a selfish bastard,” he muttered out loud, flopping back on the carriage seat and looking away from Marianne. When he shut his eyes, he could still see her in his mind. Only he pictured her with a look of horror, a look of fear and heartache. He pictured her ruined, because that was the only thing he was capable of doing, ruining those around him. That had always been true and it would likely always be true. If he’d had any decency he would have sent her away the moment he caught her in his home and continued to hide away just as he had these past two years. Continued to protect the world from what he was at his heart, protect himself from what they would see when they looked at him.
Instead, he had allowed their brief encounter in London to create a scenario in which he dragged this woman into his darkness. Where he would destroy her future just to make his own a tiny fraction more bearable.
The carriage began to slow and he straightened, pulling back the curtain farther. As he had suspected, they had arrived at the inn for the night. As the carriage stopped, he watched as one of the footmen jumped down to make the arrangements. He’d already been given specific orders, and Alexander expected them to be followed.
He let out a long breath and leaned forward to extend his hand. He planned to touch Marianne’s knee to gently wake her, but he found himself hesitating. It was funny, for he had touched her intimately just a few hours before. Now the idea of squeezing her leg felt too…familiar.
He didn’t have to, though. Before he could muster his nerve or his heart or whatever it was that was required, she stirred on her own and her eyes opened. She looked across the carriage at him and a slow smile spread across her lovely face.
“Hello,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. Then it was as if she recognized where she was. The smile faded, and she bolted to an upright position and looked around. “Oh, we’ve stopped. Where are we?”
“At an inn,” he explained, pulling his hand back and wondering at the odd disappointment at the act. He hadn’t wanted to touch her and now he felt sorry he hadn’t. Foolishness.
“Oh,” she whispered, and swallowed hard. He could see her mind working, turning on what he’d told her earlier in the day: that he would take her tonight, at the inn.
He could hardly wait.
“Come,” he said, tapping on the door so that the waiting servant would open it for them at last.
Alexander climbed out first and then turned back to offer his hand to Marianne. She stared at him, her green eyes boring down into him with intensity, like she could read his soul.
“Come,” he repeated, more sharply this time, and she frowned as she took his assistance. Her fingers folded around his and he jolted at the touch. She did the same, those beautiful eyes widening as she darted her gaze away, as if she didn’t look at him that this connection between them would fade in intensity.
It didn’t, but he released her the moment she was steady on her feet and turned toward the footman who was now returning from the inn.
“You spoke to the owner?” Alexander asked sharply.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young man responded with a quick nod. “The name I gave was Smith. The room will be ready momentarily and food will be sent up, just as you requested.”
Alexander nodded. “Very good. Help Rodgers with the animals. We leave tomorrow at dawn so that we may arrive home before supper.”
“Yes, sir,” the footman replied as Alexander motioned Marianne to join him as he walked toward the inn.
She did so silently, her eyes wide as she stared up at the building that loomed before her. Her questions were reflected on her face, her fears, but there was something else there. Something he recognized, and it hit him in the gut. He saw her desire. Her excitement. She was an innocent, that much was clear, but she was a responsive innocent. One who had been built for pleasure, it seemed.
And he could not wait to test her limits and awaken her.
Marianne’s hands shook, but she shoved them behind her back as she and Alexander entered the inn and were greeted by a portly man in fine clothing. He had a huge mustache and a wide smile beneath it as he rushed forward to greet them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Smith!” he said, a little too loudly, but with a jolly quality that wasn’t diminished even as his eyes widened when he observed Alexander’s scar. “Welcome, welcome. I’m Mr. Carlisle. All the arrangements are being made.”
Alexander tensed as the man looked at his face, but he began to speak and Marianne looked off away from them. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Of course Alexander would give the man false information about their identities. About the fact that they were married. The innkeeper didn’t seem the kind who would participate in the ruination of an innocent.
She frowned. Ruination. That was what she was going up into, after all. But when she thought of Alexander’s mouth on her in the carriage, what they had done didn’t feel ruinous. It made her feel alive. She had dreamed about it, about what was to come, in the carriage. Now he would take her upstairs and…
“My dear?”
She jumped when she realized Alexander was referring to her. “Yes?”
He smiled, but there was a tension to his mouth, one that pulled the scar across his face and brightened the white line. “Mr. Carlisle is showing us to our room.”
“Of course,” Marianne said with a little shake of her head and a glance for the waiting innkeeper. “I’m sorry, it was a long day of travel.”
