Seduced by His Touch(24)

Opening her eyes a sliver, she saw he had an empty porcelain washbasin in his lap. "Just in case," he said.

Groaning once more, she turned her head away and waited to see how long  it would be before she disgraced herself by being violently ill in front  of him.

But one minute lapsed into two, then two more passed, as her stomach  began to settle from a series of fearsome dips and flips into a gentle,  gradually ebbing tide. The hammering receded in her brain as well,  diminishing to a mildly uncomfortable pang. She relaxed with a sigh, a  delicate belch escaping her lips before she could prevent it.                       
       
           


///
       

Flushing, she covered her mouth with her hand.

Jack chuckled and set the washbowl aside. "Better?"

Meeting his twinkling blue eyes, she nodded. "Yes, much better. Thank you."

"Wonderful. Now we can proceed on to breakfast."

"Breakfast!" She shook her head, a lingering twinge of pain shooting between her eyes. "No food, please."

"But food is precisely what you need, especially since you didn't eat dinner last night."

Heat washed over her cheeks again. He was right. After tumbling into bed  together, they never had managed to get out again, too busy slaking  their mutual passion to even think about food. Her memories were  slightly hazy, but she recalled Jack making love to her again after that  first time, rousing her from a heavy sleep in order to satiate his  needs and hers once more.

Now, it was morning and she had spent the night in his house. In his bed. Oh my, I still am in his bed.

Clutching the sheet, she drew it higher, becoming excruciatingly aware  that she was naked. She never slept naked. Then again, she'd never slept  with a man before either.

"What time is it?" she ventured, half-afraid to hear the answer.

"A little after ten, I believe." Crossing to a table set beneath one of  the room's many windows, he picked up a red-and-gold patterned Sevres  coffeepot.

"Ten! Oh, good Lord. They'll have missed me for sure. What if the  servants have already sent word to Aunt Jane? What if she is even now  cutting short her stay in Bristol and returning to the city?"

"Coffee?" he said, strolling toward her bearing a cup filled with the dark, steaming beverage.

"No, no coffee." Ignoring any lingering malaise, she swung her legs over  the side of the bed and scanned the room for her clothes. "I need to  get home. I need to see who the servants have told, then figure out how I  am going to explain."

"What you need to do is get back in bed and sip some of this. Once it  stays down, you can try a few bites of toast and eggs." Without asking  permission, he set the coffee onto the night table, then reached out to  swing her legs back onto the mattress.

"But Jack, you know I can't stay-"

"Of course you can. Relax, my sweet. I have already taken care of the matter."

She froze. "What do you mean, ‘taken care' of it?"

"I awakened earlier and penned a note to your aunt. I also sent a boy  around to her house to inform her staff that you are quite unharmed and  visiting a friend for the day."

"B-but Jack, I-"

"Spent the night. A few hours more will make little difference now."  Resuming his seat on the side of the bed, he reached for the cup and  saucer. "I thought coffee would do best this morning rather than tea.  Careful you don't burn yourself."

With numb resignation, she accepted the offering. She even managed to  take a sip without scalding her tongue. Feeling her stomach quiet, she  sipped some more.

What had he told her aunt? she wondered. The truth, she suspected, as  well as the fact that she was now his mistress. And considering the way  she'd given herself to him last night, she couldn't blame him for  drawing that conclusion. Drunk or not, there was no pretending she  hadn't known what she was doing when she'd agreed to make love. She just  hadn't thought all the consequences through, or the enormity of the  changes she would be facing in her life from this point forward.

She drank more coffee, glad he'd left it black, since it was more  bracing that way. "I'm rather new to this, so will you be sending for my  belongings today?"

"A change of clothes, you mean? I had one of the maids freshen your  gown. It's ironed and waiting for you over there on the wardrobe."

And so it was, she noticed, her gaze shifting to the large walnut  armoire on the far side of the room, where the lilac-sprigged muslin  dress hung neatly on its half-open door.

"As for a hairbrush and such," he continued, "I thought you could use mine."

Use his brush? Despite all the intimacies they'd shared in the past  several hours, the notion of using his grooming implements seemed almost  too personal somehow. Silly, considering she'd let him inside her body  last night. What could be too intimate after that?

"Thank you, that is most kind," she said. "But what of later?"

He arched a brow. "Later?"

"Well, yes. I am simply wondering what you expect."

"In what regard?"

She stared at him for a long moment before lowering her gaze. What is he  about with this cat-and-mouse game? Should he not be the one informing  me of his intentions, rather than the other way around?                       
       
           


///
       

Resisting the urge to blush and wishing she wasn't quite so naked under  the sheets, she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Now that we are … well,  closer than before, I suppose I wish to know where I shall be residing?  Here in Bath or in some other establishment?"

Would he be procuring a separate town house for her, she wondered, as many gentlemen did with their light o' loves?

"Are you planning to remove from Bath altogether?" she continued in a  rush. "Or return to London perhaps and take a town house there?"

She hoped he didn't say he wished to live permanently in London. Papa  lived in London, and he would not be at all pleased by her descent into  the realm of the demimonde. Although she supposed Papa would not be  pleased wherever she decided to live, given her new status as Jack  Byron's chere amie.

He gave her an inquiring look. "At the expense of appearing dull-witted, what exactly is it you are saying?"

Her brows gathered in an impatient scowl. Surely he doesn't expect me to  spell it out? But it would seem, she realized, that he did. "Since I'm  your mistress now, where am I going to live? Is that plain enough for  you?"

"My mistress!"

"Well, yes. After last night, I assumed … that is, I thought … " She broke  off as she realized her error. "So I'm not to be your mistress?"

"No."

The cup and saucer shook inside her hand at the implications.

Jack relieved her of her half-finished coffee before she could spill it, then set the china aside.

"Did it never occur to you that I might want something else?" he asked.

Her brows scrunched together again. Beyond words, she shook her head.

"Well, I do," he stated. "I was planning to ask you later, since you  aren't feeling your best at present, and this is hardly the most  romantic of settings. But I suppose it will have to do."

She stared at him, puzzled.

"Then again," he said, pausing to run his gaze slowly over her, his eyes  heating along the way, "maybe this is the perfect time and place. What  could be better, after all, than having you alone and naked in my bed?"

Now she was the one who could be accused of being dim-witted. What was  he saying? What did he mean? She was pondering the alternatives-and  truly could conceive of none-when he took her hand in his own.

"Grace Lilah Danvers," he said in a solemn tone. "Will you marry me?"

Her mouth dropped open.

Quiet descended over the room.

"Well," he said with a self-deprecating smile, "this isn't quite the  reaction I hoped for. Either you're so happy you've been stunned into  silence, or else you're trying desperately to think of a good way to  refuse."

"But you can't marry me," she blurted.

"Can I not? Why, pray tell?"

"For one thing, because your brother is a duke!"

"Quite true, although I believe you are the only woman in England who would consider that a drawback."

"Be that as it may, you are an aristocrat and I am not. By that measure alone, I am entirely beneath you."

A sensuous smile turned up the edges of his mouth. "I must admit," he  drawled, "that I did enjoy having you beneath me last night. Why don't  you scoot down and we can try it again."

Ignoring him, she pressed on. "And, of course, there is your family.  What will they think of you marrying a girl whose station in life is so  decidedly below your own?"