It was only that the rap on the carriage door that stopped them. They both startled apart and Jane glanced at the door. She looked at him and then she laughed. For a moment he saw the wicked, playful side of her that had been muted since she took over the shop, certainly since she heard her sister was missing.
“You are a distraction…Cam,” she murmured.
His stomach flipped when she used that name. No one called him that. Even Campbell was incredibly rare. Esme only used it to tweak him like a sibling might. That Jane used the name for the moments when they were alone, when he was hers in body and soul, gave it weight.
“You’ll moan that name next,” he promised, and opened the door. “Place a wager on it, Janie.”
She giggled and slipped from the carriage first. She stretched her back and looked up at the inn they’d reached as he joined her. A gentleman in what felt like an explosion of tweed approached with a wide smile. His Scottish accent was almost incomprehensible as he said, “Aye, there you be. Welcome to the Piper’s Rest. Taron Fergus at your service. Will you be needin’ a room or just a meal?”
“A room for my…” Ripley paused and glanced down at Jane at his side. They’d never see these people again, but he wasn’t about to say anything that might make Jane be seen as less. “My wife and I.”
She drew in a sharp breath when he said it. He had to fight not to do the same. Jane as his wife. There was a thought. One he pushed away.
“And one for our driver, who’s taking care of the stable needs at present.”
“Excellent, excellent,” the innkeeper said. “Let me see what’s available and I’ll escort you up meself.”
He hustled to the low table with a handful of numbered cubbies behind it. As he looked through them for the room he’d choose, Jane glanced up at Ripley. “You didn’t have to say that.”
“What?” he asked, even though he knew full well what she meant.
“That I’m your wife,” she whispered. “I’ve been to an inn with a gentleman lover before.”
He nodded. “Of course you have. And there was nothing wrong with that. We both made our money from our bodies, there’s no shame in such a thing. But I know it makes some look at you differently. Plus, you aren’t in the trade anymore. You’re a respectable lady.”
She snorted. “Hardly. You’re far more respectable than I am.”
He glared at her playfully. “Oh, Jane, are we about to have our first quarrel? Fighting over who has the dubious distinction of respectability?”
She laughed and it was like music. “I wouldn’t dare paint you with such an awful brush. I do apologize.”
“Yes, you’ll have to make it up to me when we get upstairs and—” He turned his attention back to the bustling innkeeper. “Ah, Mr. Fergus. Do you have accommodation?”
“I do. A fine room. Follow me.”
They did so, trailing after the man. After a few steps, Jane slipped her hand into the crook of Ripley’s elbow and a full shiver wracked him at the touch. She’d held his cock in her hand and yet this felt more intimate on some level.
They reached the room and Mr. Fergus let them in. He drew the curtains open with some flourish, even though there was only darkness outside by now, and tossed a log on the low fire. And all the time he talked and talked about the room and the inn and the supper to be had in the dining hall from eight to eleven that night.
Ripley watched Jane the entire time the poor man made his speeches. She was nodding and kindly answering his questions, but every once in a while she shot a playful look toward Ripley. Saucy, he thought some might call it.
“May I help with anything else?” Mr. Fergus said at last.
“Oh no, sir, you’ve been most kind,” Jane said. “My dear husband and I are very tired from our long journey, I fear. We’ll take some rest before we indulge in the sumptuous food you’ve described so eloquently.”
“Very good, very good, madam.” The innkeeper stepped into the hallway and pivoted back as if to speak further.
“Good evening,” Jane said sweetly, then shut the door and turned the key to lock it. She faced Ripley slowly and leaned back with a wicked grin. “I thought he’d stay forever. That we’d have to invite him to play.”
Ripley laughed. “He isn’t exactly my type in men, but if it made you happy.”
There was no reaction from her at that statement beyond another deeply wicked smile. She stepped toward him, hips twitching in the most fascinating way. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts flattening as her mouth lifted just to his lips without touching them.
“What would make me happy is to be very naked and very alone with you.”
He wobbled. The first time they’d been to bed together, it had felt deep. Important. Changing. Tied to her dark emotions, an escape.
But this…this felt light. Playful. Passionate. He slid a hand into the bun at the nape of her neck and dragged his fingers across her scalp to tilt her face closer. “Then we’re halfway there. Seems it’s time to get down to the other half. With great pleasure.”
