He looked at her over the menu for her approval. She nodded, hardly registering what he’d ordered, only aware that he had called hermy wife.That was who she now was. The wife of Jacob Ashford, the Duke of Rosedale, even if it was in name only.
The waiter collected the menus, bowed and departed.
Margaret made an effort to pull herself together. Despite her inner turmoil, she needed to start abiding by her promise to make things as tolerable as possible. To that end, she made polite conversation, asking about his estates, and he in turn asked her questions about art, a subject she was more than happy to talk about.
The dinner passed pleasantly enough, as if they really were friends, giving Margaret hope that they could do this. Theycouldmake things tolerable for each other.
When they arose from the table she discovered their fellow diners had all departed. She’d been so caught up in their conversation she had not noticed the other passengers leaving and that they were alone in an empty carriage, nor had she realised it was getting late.
‘Your berths have been prepared for you,’ the steward informed them, and Margaret could tell that, like the dining car waiters, he was eager for Margaret and Jacob to depart so he too could get to his own bed.
They followed the steward down the swaying corridor and he stopped outside the sleeping compartments, indicated which two were theirs, then departed.
‘Well, goodnight,’ Jacob said.
‘Yes, goodnight.’
They remained standing in the corridor.
‘I hope you have a good night’s sleep,’ he said.
‘Yes, you too.’ She knew he would not depart until she did, so that was what she should do.
She waited. He waited. This was silly. She needed to leave or they would be standing in the corridor all night.
‘Goodnight,’ she repeated and lifting herself up onto tiptoes kissed his cheek, in the manner that parting friends would surely do.
Her lips grazed across his skin, his stubble rough under her touch, his masculine scent and taste once again wrapping itself around her. Her lips lingered a moment too long for a kiss between friends, then she quickly lowered herself, turned and fled into her sleeping compartment, leant against the shut door and exhaled slowly.
Never, ever, ever do that again, she admonished herself.
Even a friendly gesture such as a kiss on the cheek was fraught with danger. This marriage would only be tolerable if she kept any feelings completely bottled up and hidden from his view. And that was not going to happen if she went around kissing him willy-nilly.
She remained leaning against the door as she looked around the cabin, which had been transformed into a sleeping area. What she had to do now was get some sleep and try to face the next day with a greater degree of self-discipline and restraint than she had shown this evening.
She took a few more moments to compose herself, then pushed the service bell. When the steward returned, she asked him to summon her lady’s maid. Molly soon arrived and helped her out of her clothing and into her nightgown, then departed. Margeret climbed into the bed, determined to sleep and put this long, confusing day behind her.
Sleep didn’t come. Instead, she stared at the ornate ceiling, knowing that behind the wooden panels that divided their compartments he was sleeping. The man she had married had no doubt drifted off into a trouble-free sleep while she lay wide awake, feeling like a complete fool.
She absolutely should not give him even a friendly kiss ever again, she told the ceiling. She must do nothing to remind herself of that fateful kiss that had led to this unwanted marriage. She should avoid getting so close to him that she could smell his expensive cologne or feel the warmth of his body. And she must never, ever give a moment’s thought to what it felt like when his arms were around her and his body covered hers.
She gently ran her finger along her bottom lip, still tingling from the touch of his rough skin. It had been a seemingly innocent gesture but there was nothing innocent about the memories it had evoked. Her hand ran lightly down her neck, following the path his lips had trailed the night he had taken her in his arms.
At the time she had wanted his kisses and caresses to explore more of her body. Her hand tentatively moved across the mounds of her breasts, knowing that was where she had wanted his kisses to go. Her hand cupped her breast and she sighed, remembering what it had felt like to rub herself against him, to feel the sensitive buds tighten against his chest.
That was what she had wanted him to do when she had been in his arms. For him to relieve the exquisite tension building up in her body. Her fingers lightly stroked the tight peak, causing her burning body to grow hotter as she imagined his fingers touching her in such an intimate way.
The pounding in her body increasing with each stroke, she gasped loudly. Her hand flew from her breasts and covered her mouth. She looked towards the wall that separated her compartment from his. How thick were those mahogany panels? Could he hear her? Did he wonder why she had cried out in such a manner? Would he know what she had been doing? What she had been thinking? Would he know what she had been imagining him doing to her?
Her body once again burned furiously, this time from the embarrassment of him knowing how much she hungered for his touch. The wallflower he’d been forced to marry against his wishes because she had thrown herself at him was now fantasising about him caressing her in an intimate manner, while he was unlikely to be giving her a second thought.
It was all too mortifying. The sooner this enforced time together at his Northumberland estate was over and done with, so that he could return to his old life in London and she could begin her separate life as the Duchess of Rosedale, the better.
Chapter Twelve
Jacob watched the light creep around the edges of the thick velvet curtains. His sleepless night had finally come to an end and they would soon be pulling into the final station of their journey.
He pushed the bell to summon the steward and asked him to call for his valet to help him dress and shave.
