Page 40 of Rogue Lyon

The room was large with wooden panels on the walls and a floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the busy street. Heavy, gold-threaded curtains draped onto the sumptuous scarlet carpet and the bed was enormous with swags of silk material creating a decadent canopy.

“It’s big,” Jules declared, dropping the key onto a shiny, walnut desk.

“Yes.” She glanced around. In the corner was a door to what she presumed was a water closet. She hoped it had a fire and a bathtub; if so, she’d make use of it soon. “But only one bed.”

“I will sleep on there.” He pointed at a chaise longue that held a large cushion with the image of a peacock on it.

“Yes.” Her cheeks flushed. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. They’d just spent the last three days together traveling, talking about art and chess and Wales and his Habsburg ancestry, so why did she suddenly feel shy about being alone in this room with him?

“Meredith.”

Suddenly, he was in front of her.

She opened her eyes and stared into his.

“I really am sorry. I know you must think that I orchestrated this, but I promise you I didn’t.”

She studied him. There were no tiny expressions to indicate a lie. He didn’t cover his mouth as he spoke or break his gaze from hers.

“I believe you.”

He nodded, though still with a graveness to the downturn of his mouth. “Here, put this on your ring finger.” He held up the tiny, brass ring that had been on the key. “I think it will fit.”

She took the slim, light band of metal. Sure enough, it fit her finger perfectly.

“There.” His mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Respectability reinstated.”

For a moment, she stared at it, unused to seeing any ring on her finger, least of all one on her wedding-ring finger. For months, she’d hoped Mrs. Dove-Lyon would find her a groom, a man who excited her mind as well as her body. She’d had no luck, and now it seemed the best she could hope for was a phony marriage with a man who had the ability to persuade her to drop all sense of decorum.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips then very gently pressed a kiss over the ring. “It is the best I can do.”

“I know.” She nodded, sensing the hidden meaning behind his words. He would never marry her; he’d never marry anyone.

Which left Meredith with the decision to either accept that and continue enjoying his company in the knowledge that he’d never make her his wife, or find a way to untangle herself from this crazy need to be with him, to be close to him, to watch his face as he spoke, concentrated, and smiled.

“We should freshen up and then eat,” he said, dropping her hand. “Please, you use the water closet first. When I have stayed here in the past, the bathtub has been full of warm water only minutes after arrival. There is a servants’ door behind the fireplace so they can be discreet.”

She brightened instantly. “Well, that is very civilized.”

“Indeed.” He grinned as the tension in the room evaporated.

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll prepare for our evening meal.”

Meredith nodded and went to the water closet. A little tingle of excitement went through her at the thought of stripping naked so close with just a door between them. Would he think of her without her clothes on? Sinking into the warm water? She didn’t know, but she was sure she’d be thinking of him.

Chapter Ten

Jules waited until he heard the lock click on the water closet door and then sought out his small clay pipe. His stomach was in a knot and much as he wanted to be with Meredith in every way possible, he hadn’t wanted to see the distress in her eyes when she’d imagined the tidal wave of gossip about them.

He opened the window to the sounds of the street—clopping hooves, calls from street sellers, pigeons cooing on the opposite roof—and lit his pipe.

Blowing out the first stream of bitter smoke, he thought of her stripping off her gown just a few feet away. Her skin was milky pale and he longed to see every inch of it. Were her nipples just as delicate or were they dark and oversized?

He puffed some more on his pipe and as he thought of touching her cunny. Heat traveled to his groin. He set his gaze on a man pushing a barrow of apples and his memory flitted back in time. When they’d last been in a bedchamber, at his home, things had ramped up fast. Passion had taken over. She’d been so responsive, so giving, so damn desirable. And despite Jules being convinced of her purity, she hadn’t been passive or afraid. She’d been bright-eyed, confident, and sure.

In the name of the good Lord, she’d licked his cock. Her pretty, pink tongue had just poked right out and circled the end.