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“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let me help you.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face before she placed her hand in his. He felt a jolt of desire all the way down his spine. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss those delectable lips once again. The urge was overpowering.
But, of course, he couldn’t do that. They were surrounded by people. He stood there, strangling the urge, while she climbed into the coach before he got in after her. The other passengers were already inside the vehicle, ready to depart.
He heard the crack of the whip. And then they were off again. He stared down at his feet, trying not to look at her. Suddenly, he didn’t want this trip to be over. He felt like he could sit here beside her forever. A most curious thing.
A feeling of panic started to rear up inside him. What was happening to him?
He had never felt quite this way before about a woman. It was unfamiliar and alarming. As much as he wanted her, he wanted to run far, far away from this. Back to his usual territory where he was in control. Back to a place where he knew the rules and how to behave. Because there was nothing typical about this situation at all. He felt like he had just been cast adrift in a stormy sea, trying to navigate unknown terrain. And he simply didn’t have a compass.
***
The coach rattled on through the morning. When they stopped again, it was just past midday. Ambrose was in agony from desire. Her leg kept bumping against his, and it had taken all his effort not to lay a hand upon it, slide her gown up and run his hand up the length of that leg, feeling its silky smoothness. The thought of it was pure torture.
At the inn, when they sat down for luncheon, he made sure to sit well away from her. A barmaid approached, asking them all what they wanted. When she got to him, the woman smiled flirtatiously, batting her eyelids.
“And for you, sir?” she asked, in a breathless voice, her eyes twinkling. She leaned over the table towards him, displaying ample creamy cleavage.
Ambrose’s eyes flickered over her. The barmaid was a moderately attractive redhead with a buxom bosom and pale green eyes. And she was clearly interested in him. To his shock, she ran her tongue around the rim of her lips in a suggestive way.
Briefly, he contemplated it. He was in agony from Miss Parker, and the woman was willing. A quick tumble at the back of the inn could relieve it. It might make the journey more tolerable and ensure that he left Miss Parker quite alone.
But as soon as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. He didn’t want this woman. It wouldn’t relieve his desire for Miss Parker. He wanted her and no other woman. The barmaid couldn’t be a substitute for her. He was ashamed of himself for even briefly thinking it possible.
Once again, he was assailed with unease. Usually, he would have no such compunction. It was all so strange and unsettling.
“Just cheese and bread,” he said to the woman curtly.
The barmaid nodded, shrugging her shoulders before walking away.
He glanced quickly at Miss Parker. She was still trying not to look at him. But then, as if sensing his gaze upon her, she turned to him. Their eyes locked and held. His heart started pounding in his chest, and he could barely breathe. He forced himself to look away. Once again, he wondered what on earth was wrong with him.
***
Delia walked quickly back to the carriage. She had seen the way that barmaid had acted towards Mr Hartfield. The woman had been brazen. It had been a shameless display. How could women just throw themselves at men like that?
She took deep gulps of air. She tried to tell herself that it was merely shock, that any woman could act like that. But she couldn’t deny that she had felt a pang of jealousy when he had contemplated the woman.
Did he find the woman attractive?
And why did she care if he did?
She took a deep gulp of air. It shouldn’t matter to her what he did or didn’t do. It shouldn’t matter if he found a woman attractive and even if he acted upon it. Just because they had shared a kiss didn’t mean he was beholden to her in any way. She knew she was being utterly ridiculous.
But it didn’t seem to matter. Shedidcare if he found other women attractive—very much indeed.
Chapter 20
Delia gazed out the carriage window. Mr Hawkins had remarked that they had reached Leicestershire now. They were at the halfway point in the journey towards Bradford. It had grown colder as their trip progressed. Snowflakes filled the air and lay in large clumps on the side of the road. The sky was darker, too.
She saw fields strewn with white. It was a desolate landscape, but somehow, she found it enchanting. She had never travelled much outside of Surrey—only to London and back again. A sense of quiet excitement was entering her soul. If nothing else, this journey was showing her the country and giving her a very different experience to anything she had ever had before.
Her thoughts drifted to Twickenham Hall.
What was Papa doing now? Was he tearing his hair out with worry about her? Or did he only care about the fact that he was certain to lose his ancestral home now that she had absconded and wasn’t there to save it for him?
She sighed heavily. She didn’t want to think that was all he cared about. But she simply didn’t know any longer. He had become a stranger to her.
