His gentle words and easy affection stirred the longing within Evangeline. She had been doing her best to keep it quiet, let it also sleep soundly. Rising from the bed, she met his grin with her own shy smile.
He had removed his tricorne hat and the long, dark wig. It was rare to see his real hair. It was similar in color to the false hairpiece, but short and neat. Having seen him in his disguise for so long, she found the authentic Gus Jones a revelation.
Her fingers itched with the need to touch his hair, to brush the soft curls which now slowly unfurled after their release. And if she did that, would he stop her? Or would he allow her to explore, perhaps even place a kiss on that spot just below . . . oh.
A rush of heat raced down her spine. She was seeing Gus in a new light. Being sweet on him all this time had been her own private passion. To think that he might want to share a life with her, well, that was something entirely unexpected.
But welcome?
What if they could forge a future together, a real marriage? It would likely mean her having to leave France for good. To follow in the footsteps of the other French émigrés who had fled to England during the revolution.
She had much to think about over the next few days. This decision could not be made in haste.
Accepting the spoon Gus handed her, Evangeline took a seat opposite to him at the small table by the window.
The cotriade tasted as good as it smelled. The fish was tender, the potatoes soft and soaked in garlic. The stew had been poured over a toasted baguette, which she broke up with her spoon.
They ate in companionable silence for a time, exchanging shy smiles as they slurped their supper.
Gus picked up his bowl and drained the last of the stew before setting his bowl on the table. “That was delicious. Nothing beats a Breton cotriade. And believe me when I say I have indulged in my fair share of soups and stews over the years.”
She leaned forward, studying him. Gus had travelled far and wide, she knew that much about him. Seeing him without his usual disguise set her mind to wondering what else there was to this man. Aside from family friend and fellow smuggler, she didn’t honestly know him.
There was the obvious attraction. It had been there for some time, for as long as she could remember.
I want to know more. I need to know. If he wishes to offer marriage, it can’t be to a stranger.
“It occurred to me that I don’t know much about you other than snippets of what you and your friends have told me over the years. Whichever destination we choose, we have a long road ahead of us. So, be forewarned, Gus Jones, I plan to put that time to good use,” she said.
“Well then it is a fortuitous thing that you already know the best about me. Smuggler. Professional liar. Occasional thief. It’s a wonder I haven’t already been snatched up by a good woman, I have much to offer.”
Stifling a laugh, she dipped her spoon into the stew. “Your family must be so proud.”
Thank heavens you don’t already belong to another woman.
Chapter Twenty-Three
She hadn’t said no. As a man used to dealing with tight situations and narrow escapes, Gus had a warm appreciation for even the slightest hint of hope.
If Evangeline wanted to spend the next few days grilling him about his life, he would be more than happy to indulge her.
The more she knows, the more considered her decision will be.
He pushed away his disappointment at having not received a gleeful yes in response to his proposal. Evangeline’s response was understandable. And a small room in an inn wasn’t exactly the most romantic of places.
I expect she would have imagined a château full of blooms and a poetic declaration of love.
Then again, young ladies didn’t usually go about setting fire to smuggling gang’s brandy caches and blowing up farmhouses.
With supper finished and their dishes cleared away, sleep now beckoned. There was a small argument regarding who was to have use of the bed, at the end of which Evangeline stood firm. They would both share the comfortable straw mattress.
“As you said, you are an unashamed rogue, so why start trying to be a gentleman just because you want to get my agreement to marry you? Besides, if we do marry, we will be sharing a bed every night, so a spot of practice won’t do us any harm.”
Gus averted his gaze, worried that the lustful thought which had just popped into his mind might inconveniently reveal itself on his face.
If we do marry, sleep won’t be our first priority. And you will get lots of practice in testing the comfort of a bed.
He made a mental note to quietly test the waters regarding Evangeline’s knowledge of marital matters. She had lived on a farm most of her life, so she must have some idea as to what happened with animals. Her education as far as humans went, however, was less certain.
