He closed his eyes and pulled away, his breathing labored. She felt good. Too damn good. It wouldn’t take much for him to spend the rest of the afternoon in the bed that stood a few feet away. With her.
He could see them tangled in the covers, her legs entwined with his. Yes, he could see it clearly. Too clearly.
“We should go eat.”
“Funny. I’m not very hungry anymore,” she said softly.
“If we don’t leave now, we won’t go at all.” He said it quietly, as a warning. His entire body throbbed and ached with need.
She stood a long moment as if she were actually contemplating the alternative. Then finally, she turned and walked to the door, leaving him to follow.
And he had several hours in a carriage with her to look forward to.
He might not survive long enough to board the ship to Spain.
Chapter Seventeen
After a light meal in the tavern, Ridge and India got into the hired carriage and began the journey to Brighton. An hour into their trip, it was clear that India was battling fatigue.
Ridge watched her as she stared out the window. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her posture screamed exhaustion. She shifted often, as if searching for just the right position on the hard bench. The squabs were threadbare and offered little comfort, and finally she pulled one from behind her back and cast it aside with a disgusted sigh.
He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. “Why don’t you sit here and lay your head on my lap,” he said in a low voice. He patted the space beside him for emphasis.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked nervously at where his hand rested on the seat. She looked back up and bit at her top lip. Finally she shrugged and moved beside him.
She shifted awkwardly, lowering then raising her head. He scooted over as far as he could then guided her down until she was lying on the seat, her head in his lap and her legs curled into the small remaining space.
He stretched his legs across the aisle and rested them on the seat she had vacated.
“Better?” he asked as they settled to stillness.
She nodded against his leg, her cheek rubbing softly against his trousers. He could feel her warmth to his bones.
Slowly, he lowered his hand to her head until it rested against her dark locks. He loved the feel of the silky strands. His fingers burrowed into her hair, twisting and turning the curls around his fingertips.
She sighed, and he felt her relax against him. He craved this closeness with her. It was so easy to pretend in these moments that she was his and that they belonged together. He had never shared such intimacy with another person.
It wasn’t proper. Such actions would raise eyebrows in his circles. No self-respecting man would ever behave thusly with an unmarried woman. But it felt right. She was right. They were right. He wouldn’t believe otherwise.
His hand tightened in her hair. She was his.
Mine.
He liked the way it sounded. But did she feel the same? Could there ever be something special between them? He didn’t want a fleeting moment of fancy. A warm memory he pulled out his mind in his waning years. She wasn’t someone he wanted to reminisce about as he watched a wife he’d married out of duty run after heirs they had produced for the same reason.
No, he wanted her. All of her. His family wouldn’t approve, but then his father had yet to approve of anything he had done.
He glanced down at his hand tangled in India’s hair and felt such a fierce wave of possessiveness wash through him, his hand trembled.
Her thin shoulders rose and fell with her deep breathing, and it took him a moment to realize she had fallen asleep. He frowned. She was going to have to start taking better care of herself. She wasn’t resting enough. Her inner demons fought too hard, and she was exhausting herself.
He was going to find out what haunted her, why she could only sleep with the dawn. It may well be the key in making her his. He stroked softly over her hair. She had hurt long enough.
###
India opened her eyes and blinked rapidly to dispel the fog surrounding her head. She was lying on Ridge’s lap. And she was loathe to move. She drew in a deep breath, inhaling his warm scent.
The interior was dim, a testament to the fall of evening. A glance at the window confirmed her assessment.
