As bold as the lady had been when she had invited Matt to join her in the parlor and in their conversation, he had expected her to be experienced. She was not, and, for no reason he could understand, he wanted to crow. It was as if she had been waiting just for him.
Matt lifted his head and gazed down at her. “You’ve never been kissed before?”
A blush infused her cheeks. “Is it—is it that obvious?”
“No.” Yes, but he wouldn’t tell her that.
She lowered her long, thick lashes, and her unexpected shyness captivated him. “You are perfect.”
Once again she raised her face to him. He leaned forward, breathing in her light, spicy scent. So different from the flowery perfumes other women used. Cupping both her cheeks with his hands, he kissed her again, nibbling her lush bottom lip, teaching her, urging her to open her mouth to him.
Her tentativeness gave way, and she held on to him tightly, returning his kisses with more vigor. As he stroked her back, he itched to untie the laces his fingers traveled over, and he paused for a moment. Too much too soon. This lady was the most remarkable woman he had ever known, and he needed to ensure he did not scare her away.
She sighed, sinking boneless against him.
Two of his good friends had recently married, and it was time he did so as well. He hadn’t believed his friend Marcus all those years ago when he’d claimed to have fallen in love with Phoebe at first sight. Matt did now.
He had no brothers, and it was past time he wed. The idea to look seriously for a wife had been pestering him more and more over the past few months. Matt wanted to laugh. It never occurred to him that he would meet his future wife when they were stranded together in a small inn. He held her closer. Whoever she was, she was his. If only she would tell him her name. He considered ignoring all the manners he had learned and asking her for it. But he was afraid she’d flee. What did it matter, though, when he would spend the rest of his life getting to know her.
He supposed he’d have to wait until to-morrow to propose or to ask whom he should go to for permission to address her. Yet her countenance, conversation, and the mature curves of her body told him she was not a young lady. So much the better if she could answer for herself.
A knock sounded on the door. He broke the kiss and set her away from him. “Yes?”
Brown opened the door and poked his head in. “My lord, my—um, I mean ma’am. Your chambers are ready. I had one of my girls run a heating pan between the sheets and put hot bricks in them.”
When Matt had released her, his lady had turned from the door to face the fireplace, leaving him to deal with the innkeeper. “Thank you, Brown.”
“Ring if you need anything, and someone will answer straightaway.”
“Thank you, again.” Matt closed the door.
In two steps he was with her again. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “I’ll escort you to your room.”
She nodded. Even in the candlelight, he could see the desire lurking in her eyes. He wished he could take her to his chamber, but there was time enough for that after they were betrothed.
Leaving her at her bedroom door, he went to the chamber he’d been given at the opposite end of the hall.
Matt was pleased to find a decanter of brandy on the bedside table. He stripped off his clothes and donned a serviceable dark green wool dressing gown the landlord had left for him. He stood staring into the fire, twirling the glass and trying to decide what he would say when he proposed. Finding out her name might be a good idea as well.
* * *
Grace could not believe he had kissed her like that and then left her at her chamber door. Good Lord, she had practically thrown herself at him.
“You see, he didn’t want you,”her conscience mocked.
“He did, I—I could tell by his—by his kiss.”
Why did Worthington have to be such agentleman?It was not the most helpful thing he could have done at the moment. He could have made it easier for her. After what he had said and the way he had kissed her, how could he have just left her here? Obviously if she was going to have her night, she would have to do something. There was nothing for it. She would have to go to him.
She called the maid and undressed. It had taken another glass of wine and several minutes to gather her courage. Then she threw the blanket around her shoulders and stepped out into the corridor to find him.
Fortunately, a light shone under the door at the other end of the corridor. It must be him. Except for her servants, sleeping on the floor above and in the stable, she and Worthington were the only two guests in the inn.
The old, worn floorboards were cold under her feet as she walked the short distance to his chamber. Taking a breath, Grace fought down the fear threatening to overtake her. Surely he would not turn her away. She knocked on the door and entered.
The pleased expression on his face told her she had not been mistaken. He did want her. Every bit as much as she had prayed he would.
Chapter Three
