Page 98 of One Night with an Earl

Despite Oliver’s calm, Ana was still fearful they could be spotted together. But rather than wait in the main room, they were immediately greeted by the innkeeper, a tall, thin man with straw-colored hair. “Lord Drake, it is a pleasure to see you this evening.”

Oliver made the introductions. “This is Mr. Humphries, the proprietor of this fine establishment.”

The man bowed. “My lady.”

Oliver didn’t correct him as to her address. “I’ve known Mr. Humphries for half my life. His father was my father’s long-time butler.”

“Lord Drake graciously loaned me money to put a down payment to open my inn,” Mr. Humphries said.

“I wasn’t an earl then, but I can spot a good investment when I see it,” Oliver said.

Knowing Oliver’s character, Ana wasn’t surprised that he would aid a former employee’s son. In some odd fashion, he would consider it his duty, and she knew how important his duties were to him.

They were led to the inn’s private parlor. A table for two had been set with china, silver, and a lit candelabra. A coal brazier in the grate warmed the space and gave it a cozy atmosphere.

“This is lovely,” Ana said.

Oliver held out her chair, then sat across from her. She’d dressed in her best gown of blue muslin. She’d left her lace cap behind, and her dark curls were loose and held back from her face by a simple braid. She was not dressed in fine fashion like the ladies he was accustomed to seeing at social events. It didn’t seem to matter to him. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “I’ve looked forward to this evening. I was worried you would return my note with a rejection.”

She found herself suddenly nervous. This was nothing like their nights together, and in a strange way, sharing a meal in an inn was even more intimate. “You were quite strategic to hire a young boy. I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

“Is that the reason you accepted? I’ll have to remember that tactic for next time.”

Her pulse quickened at the mention of a next time. She had no idea how long their liaison would last. Memories of Oliver talking about his future arose in her mind. Even though he had not been so brash as to say it, she knew there was no part in his future for her. His duty to the earldom required he marry a titled lady. Still, she was powerless to stop herself from imagining a different time, one before his father and brother had ruined her family and before her father had taken his own life. Would they have met at a ball and began a courtship? Could they have married?

Stop! She mentally shook herself. No sense torturing herself with a future that could never be. Her thoughts should be filled with the present. He hadn’t mentioned a time frame for their affair, and she’d feared asking.

The truth was, she wasn’t sure herself. All she knew for certain was that her feelings for him had grown and blossomed into love. She looked forward to seeing him during the evenings she could get away, not just for the physical pleasure—although that was more than she’d ever dreamed possible—but for spending time with him.

Talking. Laughing. Sleeping in his arms.

Oliver poured two glasses of red wine, and as she sipped from her goblet, the tension eased from her shoulders. Soon, the door opened, and a maid served dinner—a hearty beef stew.

Ana picked up a fork and took a bite. The meat was tender, and the stew was full of flavor—onions, mushrooms, and fennel. “This is delicious.” She ate more, enjoying each forkful.

As they ate, he watched her. “You eat with the same enthusiasm as you make love.”

She lowered her fork. “Am I unladylike?”

“Never. I love to watch you.”

Her heart lurched in her breast. He liked to watch her eat?

She raised her wineglass, and Oliver diligently refilled it. “Careful, I don’t want you foxed.”

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Afraid you will take advantage of me?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m afraid you will take advantage of me. I told you that I was a changed man after last time.” He made no attempt to hide the devilish gleam in his eyes.

Heavens. Just a reminder of that experience made her skin prickle pleasurably.

The door opened again. This time, a maid served dessert, delectable strawberries with Devonshire cream.

Oliver dipped a strawberry in cream and offered it to her. She bit into the delicate fruit, and her lids slid half closed at the sweetness. As she licked the juice from her lips, his gaze was riveted on her mouth.

“I have something for you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Other than this fine meal?”