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Truly kiss her with a raw lust that he hadn’t bothered to hide.
Worse yet, she’d kissed him back. Her body—her mouth—betraying everything in her head.
She hadn’t had a clue what she was doing in the throes of the kiss. His tongue slipping past her lips, tasting her. Her response, following his lead, kissing him back, her own tongue breaching his mouth.
She knew full well what sin was—it had been drilled into her head every day by Mr. Flagton—but the heat of that kiss had pooled in the crux of her, making her ache between her legs. Sin that had felt more like heaven than hell. And every time she let the memory of it seep into her mind, her lips twitched, anxious, and her folds throbbed, wishing for more from Strider. More of everything.
Damn him.
She’d never thought sin was this easy to fall into. But her body had a mind of its own on the matter.
Her hand went to her chest and lifted the bodice of her black dress away from her bosom and the heat suddenly collecting there.
She hadn’t known what to do with the kiss. And she certainly hadn’t known what to do after it when Strider had shoved himself away from her and stalked to the carriage, the heels of his boots grinding into the gravel with each step.
She had stood there beside that fence, watching him retreat with her mouth half ajar—stupefied—until she realized he might very well take his carriage and abandon her.
All she had wanted from him since she had found him in London was the slightest smile, the tiniest kindness to tell her she wasn’t forgotten. That she meant something. That they had been family once upon a time and he remembered it and cherished it as well as she did.
During the last three days, she hadn’t been able to place the what and why of his constant anger at her, and then to have it swept aside the instant his lips met hers had flummoxed her. Her mind now sat even more scattered than it had been with the dread of meeting her mother’s family. With barely five words after they left the road in front of the Jacobson estate, Strider had deposited her in a room at the coaching inn. She hadn’t seen him the rest of the evening—the innkeeper’s wife delivered dinner to her room.
She’d gone to bed bewildered, with no clear path forward.
Yes, she needed air.
Good, solid, no-one-around her air.
Pen opened the door to her room, stepping out without looking and crashing straight into a chest.
Strider’s chest.
His right hand was on her upper arm instantly, pulling her upright just before she fell onto her backside after bouncing off of him.
“You were thinking of going somewhere?” His eyebrows angled inward, his look ready to scold. “We don’t leave for another hour.”
She motioned past him. “Just a quick walk for some air. The countryside is so much better than London and I feel like I can breathe here.”
His eyebrows relaxed. “That can wait.” He released her and lifted his left arm. Strewn across his forearm was a long piece of white cloth wrapping something. “I have something for you.”
She stilled, her look creeping up to his face. “Something for me?”
“I know.” An awkward grin that looked out of place crossed his lips—like he hadn’t smiled in years and couldn’t remember how. “I didn’t expect it either.”
Her brow furrowed and she stepped back with her hand on the door and her opposite arm swung wide to invite him into the room. He walked across the spacious chamber and set the cloth on his arm onto the bed, letting it drape down the side. Finding the loose long-edge of the fabric, he peeled back the white cloth.
A dress—no two—no three—had been wrapped in the sheet.
He picked up the first dress,alavender satin concoction with rich white silk trim lining the top and bottom of the breast, with an x crossing the bosom. Full, white lace sleeves capped off the top, while the hem was left simple and flowing.He turned back to her, holding it up. “It will be easier today if you are dressed appropriately.”
Her chest tightened. It was elegant. Simple. Perfect. “I didn’t think…” She struggled for the right words that wouldn’t upset him and make him stomp out of the room in anger. “I didn’t think you wanted me to go.”
“I distrust what will happen with Baron Jacobson and his family. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you to discover the truth about who your mother’s family—your family—is.” He fluttered the lavender dress in the air. “This will help. It will help in those first seconds that they see and judge you. Though I wasn’t sure at the modiste what would fit you. I could only describe your height and width.”
Her bottom lip had pulled under her top teeth. A peace offering, she guessed this was.
Whatever his motive, she’d take it. She had no pride left at this point.
Pen closed the door and walked over to him, her fingers going to the sides of the lavender dress, sliding along the smooth softness of it.
