He choked out a sound: half relief, half need but definitely a resounding yes as he kissed her hard. “Yes! God, yes! For the record, Valkyrie, you never, ever have to ask.” She smiled against his mouth, her fingers already unbuttoning his waistband. But as his dipped into the wet indent of her sex and she undid the final button of his falls, bloody Bill chose that moment to return and then thoroughly ruined everything.
“You’re right, Tom. It is market day and the blacksmith is always busy. Get Blodwyn saddled up and take her now before the rush.”
Guy glared up at the neat racks of saddles and tack and knew that their time was up. Lottie did too, because straightaway she severed all contact. “Oh, lord, we can’t be found here!”
“Don’t panic—there’s a back door.” But she was panicking and rightly so as two pairs of boots were headed their way.
As they had both shoved arms in sleeves, he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the door to escape into the yard before they were caught in flagrante. As they sprinted across the yard, they were both in such a hurry to get out of the sight of Bill and Tom that neither of them noticed Miss Maybury staring at them agog from the stable doors.
ChapterTWENTY-EIGHT
“Travers!” Lady Frinton hammered on her bedchamber door while Lottie was trying to get ready for dinner. “A word in my room, if you please!”
As “a word” was usually code for chapter and verse as far as her employer was concerned, Lottie sighed at her half-done coiffure in the mirror as she accepted it was a lost cause. “I shall be right with you, my lady.”
In the absence of anything different to wear in her wardrobe than the three evening gowns she had packed and worn at least once each, she had been trying her best to do something wonderful with her hair that involved a curling iron. The hope was that some fashionable ringlets would frame her face better than the few naturally wavy tendrils she usually left when she had to dress for a fancy dinner. It was a vain and pathetic attempt to compete with all the other young ladies who all had expensive and fashionable gowns aplenty to do most of that work for them. Not one of them had worn the same thing twice yet, not even Miss Yates, who was the only sensible one.
Lottie had never cared about such nonsense before, had always believed that she was confident enough in herself that she found all the hard graft that went into looking like “a woman,” like curling irons and rouge and tightly laced stays, a pointless waste of her time. However, after thismorning she wanted to be as attractive as she could be for him, just in case he was as keen as she was to finish their still unfinished business later.
She still couldn’t quite believe how brazenly she had propositioned him earlier. It hadn’t been her intention at all during their ride to do so. That had genuinely been more about rekindling their special friendship before she left. A friendship that she had convinced herself she was content to leave with—until her body decided otherwise again.
However, as soon as his finger had touched her chin and then lingered, Lottie had realized that while she was determined to leave here as his friend, she was now seriously contemplating grabbing anything else that might be on offer while she was here. And by anything else, after their kiss in the tack room, she suspected that she was prepared to offer him everything. After all, if she would have given herself to him this morning—and she was in no doubt that she would have if they hadn’t been interrupted—it made no sense to do otherwise if opportunity knocked.
But was that wise when she was leaving?
If fate provided them with a chance to be alone, should she really throw all caution to the wind and give Guy her more than willing body on a platter for him to do what he pleased with?
She certainly had no doubt it would please her too. Her nipples instantly puckered at the thought of his hands on them and, over twelve hours after that sublimely passionate kiss, the sensitive bud of nerves between her legs was still absolutely distraught at being denied his touch.
And she had always subscribed to the old adage that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. She wouldn’t have kissed quite so many men if she hadn’t been hoping that she would be hit by the thunderbolt and then live happily ever after.
Her feelings for Guy hadn’t so much hit her like a thunderbolt—but they had snuck up on her quickly like fast-growing brambles and she was too entwined in them now to do anything about it. The die was cast. Her heart had been stolen and that was that. And while she would undoubtedly have to leave him, and then break all over again when she discoveredthat he had inevitably found some other lady of his class to spend his forever with, surely she would much rather live in the precious moments with him now than live with any regrets?
Even if it could go nowhere?
And wouldn’t it be better to have something more scandalous to contemplate on her deathbed than all the things she hadn’t done? Life was for living, after all, and right in this moment, she was sorely tempted to live it to the fullest and to hell with the consequences. Dive in headfirst and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow, exactly as she always did.
That philosophy hadn’t steered her wrong yet.
Unless she counted the two times galloping across Hyde Park that had caused her to be dismissed.
Or all the other thousand times when her recklessness had backfired, as all the bruises, tellings off, and mortifying recriminations she had accrued over the years were testament to. Or how much she had hurt Guy by not telling him aboutthe Surprise. How could she not consider the consequences for once when the consequences for her heart were bound to be dire?
Unconsciously, she rubbed her chest. She had never experienced heartbreak before. At least not the sort that came from losing the prospective love of her life, and if she did dive all the way in with Guy, it might end up being too much to bear.
Was she prepared for that?
Could one ever be prepared for that?
Or was it inevitable anyway—seeing as her heart was already his?
What to do?What to do?
“Travers! What the blazes is keeping you now, gal?” As that shout made the wall between her room and Lady Frinton’s vibrate, Lottie would have to ponder the conundrum after she’d seen to her impatient employer’s latest whim.
With a last sigh at her lackluster unfinished coiffure, Lottie grabbed all the loose tendrils, pinned them to her bun, and took herself next door.
“Yes, my lady?”
