The deuce!There was nothing he could do except keep her safe until her fiancé arrived. They turned right when they reached the sea, and he could see the sign for the Old Ship.
“If you’re naughty, I’ll do what any chaperone would do. I’ll lock you in your room.”
He felt her falter slightly beside him, but she rallied her good humor.
“If you’re locked in my room with me, Hargrove, that will be acceptable.”
She was baiting him, for it took less than a second to imagine them naked together upon her bed, her mouth puffy and red from his kisses, her thighs falling open, her body ready for him as he pushed inside her.
“Did you just groan?” she asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” But they both knew he had. The urge to tup her had hit him the instant he’d seen her at Apsley House in London and hadn’t waned even a little, despite how she’d hoped Lady Sullivan and a gaggle of gossipy geese would force his hand.
Only by the sheer luck of his Irish grandmother and by the grace of God had he walked away without being bound to the chit. In fact, he could thank the fact he’d parted on good terms with his ex-lover, Lady Sullivan, for the kindness of her discretion.
“I’m sorry you had to say goodnight to your lady-friend,” Miss Talbot said, bringing his thoughts back to the Cyprian he’d intended to enjoy in the privacy of his home for the last few hours before daybreak.
He nodded, having nothing to say to that. It was beyond the pale for Miss Talbot even to bring it up. Moreover, as soon as he’d heard Miss Talbot scream and seen her sprawled upon the pavement, all thoughts of another woman fled. Now, when reminded of the light-heeled wench, James wished Miss Talbot hadn’t seen them together.
While in the midst of the festive atmosphere at the Pavilion, he hadn’t given a fig if the other guests saw him chatting up the pretty whore. For some reason, it now seemed sordid. Paying a woman for her services — be it to do his laundry, cook his food, or provide sexual congress — was as natural as breathing for men of his class. And doing so in London surrounded by the like-minded gave him no pause at all.
But here, with Miss Talbot and her big brown eyes, he wondered if it wasn’t a rather sad thing at his age nearing thirty when he ought to be leaving off his Corinthian ways. Instead of a whore, he ought to be enjoying the company of a wife and focusing on begetting a few brats to carry on the family name.
“Here we are,” she said. “I hope it’s not too far out of your way.”
He didn’t tell her how close his own accommodations were. If they’d taken a left instead of a right and gone a mere few houses down, they could have easily gone to his lodging. He couldn’t deny he wanted to do precisely that with Miss Talbot because the attraction between them was undeniable. But she was engaged, and he wouldn’t ruin her for a night’s pleasure when willing doxies were easily had.
Even a rake had a conscience!
Instead, he accompanied her all the way inside the lobby, nodding to the night manager. As far as hotels went, it was on the respectable side, not like some of the coaching inns where one might be forced to share a room or a bed if one didn’t have the blunt to pay for the luxury of privacy. There was none of that nonsense here. And as a viscount’s daughter, he knew Miss Talbot made up in coin what she lacked in sense.
“Are you going to escort me all the way to my room?” she asked, teasing him again. “What if there are robbers in the hallway upstairs or who’ve already gained access to my room? Maybe you should come check under my bed.”
She was outrageous, but James was sorely tempted to claim a goodnight kiss outside her door.
“What!” exclaimed the manager loudly, breaking the spell that they were the only two people in the world. “There are no robbers, miss. And the owner wouldn’t like anyone saying such a thing.”
“There you have it,” James said, knowing he should take his leave quickly. But he was standing too close and drinking in the sight of her, from her twinkling eyes framed by dark lashes to the upper swell of her breasts on display above the ruby bodice of her gown. Despite the opaque fabric, she was far more enticing than the obvious and vulgar Cyprian. If the concierge hadn’t been staring at them...
Still, nothing would have happened, he reminded himself.She had a fiancé!
Clearing his throat, giving the man a look to mind his business, James took her hand and bowed over it.
“I bid you good evening, Miss Talbot.”
But she grimaced, pulled her hand from his, and began to peel off her glove.
The small intimate gesture made his loins tighten.What on earth!
“I fear my palms and my knees took the brunt of the assault,” she explained before holding out her bare hand for him to see.
The fleshy part at the base of her thumb was red and scraped since her thin evening gloves had given scant protection. He had the insane urge to raise her hand to his lips and kiss the area that looked painful.
Instead, he quipped, “I ask younotto raise your skirts and show me your knees, although I’m sure they pain you as well.”
She responded with a serene smile. “I will behave with all due decorum and keep my abraded knees to myself. And tomorrow, or rather later today, I shall obtain some witch hazel.”
They stared at one another a long moment, and again James felt the overwhelming impulse to kiss her, not her hand either, but her full, exquisite lips. She knew it, too, for her nostrils flared, and her gaze went to his mouth, which suddenly felt dry as Brighton sand.
