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A gentleman who was properly courting her with the expectation of marriage. Not in a stable at a roadside inn in the middle of nowhere with a man of questionable background and character, who was a virtual stranger to her. Oh, the shame of it!
She slowed down, her footsteps seeming to plod upon the floor.
How should she handle this?
“Come along, dear,” said Sister Mary Majella, taking her arm firmly. “If we do not get breakfast now, we will miss out.”
Delia smiled weakly, letting herself be dragged to the table. They sat down, greeting everyone. Delia tried not to look at him, but it was as if she were compelled. He was still contemplating her. He had a gleam in his dark eyes.
“Did you sleep well, Miss Parker?” he asked in a voice as smooth as butter. “I hope the bed wasn’t too hard.”
“It was tolerable,” she replied in a halting voice, her heart beating erratically. “I feel rather more refreshed than if I had slept in the carriage, at any rate, Mr Hartfield.”
She couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Those lips. The lips that had been pressed against her own in passion only hours before. The lips that had taken hers in a fever of desire. She started to feel warm all over again at the memory. A shadow of the delicious tingling that had overtaken her body stole over her.
His eyes darkened. She knew he was thinking about that kiss too. Hastily, she picked up some bread, tearing pieces off it. She really didn’t know how to handle this situation at all. She just hoped that he would never mention it and they could forget all about it. But he wasn’t a gentleman, and she had no idea what he would do, did she?
“And how were the stables, Mr Giles?” asked Sister Mary Majella. “You must be as stiff as a board after sleeping in the hay, you poor man.”
“Ah, it wasn’t so bad, Sister,” replied the man, shrugging. “Just a place to rest my head.”
“You are being rather generous about it,” said Mr Hartfield, smiling warmly at the man. “What about the horse that woke you up?”
“That was odd,” agreed Mr Giles, grinning. “But all a part of life’s rich tapestry. A good story to tell the grandchildren….”
He stopped talking abruptly as he realised what he had said. A look of pain crossed over his face. Delia’s heart filled with pity. The poor man, indeed. For he probably wouldneverhave grandchildren to tell his story of this journey to. He had just buried his only child.
Suddenly, she felt ashamed. Here she was, dwelling on how to handle the man who had kissed her, when this poor soul was dealing with so much worse. He had lost his entire family. And she had willingly left her own.
“You really must get in contact with me in Bradford,” said Mr Hartfield, gazing at the man. “I am certain I can find work for you in my factory. It would be good for you to keep busy, Mr Giles.”
Delia was surprised. What a generous and kind thing to offer the bereaved man, who was clearly lost and without direction now. She gazed at the man who had kissed her. He wasn’t a brute. But still…was he a rake with women?
He helped me when I thought I had lost my bag of coins,she reminded herself.He paid for my meal last evening and offered to fund the rest of my journey.
“Thank you, Mr Hartfield,” said Mr Giles, looking grateful. “It warms my heart that you would make such an offer.” He hesitated. “And it warms my heart that there are good people in this world.”
Delia stared down at the bread in her hands. She was so confused that she couldn’t think clearly.
She realised that she reallydidlike Mr Hartfield very much. It wasn’t just the powerful desire she felt for him. He was clever, kind, and generous, even if he was obsessed with his work. But his drive and ambition just added to the attraction. He was so dynamic.
If he had been a gentleman and she had met him in a drawing room, she would have seriously contemplated him, she realised with a start of surprise. There was rather more to Mr Ambrose Hartfield, rough Northern industrialist, than met the eye.
The coach driver was suddenly upon them. “The coach is ready,” he declared. “We will set off in ten minutes.”
***
Ambrose watched the beautiful woman carefully as she walked ahead of him towards the coach.She carried herself so well, he thought, admiring her figure.A straight back and almost regal posture. She seemed to glide along the ground.
He sighed heavily. She was embarrassed about the kiss, that much was certain. She didn’t seem to know how to handle him now. But then, he didn’t know how to handle her, either. He felt oddly shy, as well as consumed with the same desire. Seeing her again had only increased his passion for her.
It seemed it was going to take more than one kiss to get Miss Delia Parker out of his system.
She was at the carriage door. He suddenly rushed ahead, opening it for her. She looked surprised.
“Thank you,” she said, ducking her head.
He nodded, staring at her, overwhelmed with desire. He felt tongue-tied. A very strange thing, for he was usually supremely confident with women even when he was in the grip of passion for them. But this was different somehow. Much different.
