Silence beat like wings between them.
"I just don't know," she whispered, her voice tight with uncertainty.
Long seconds passed, then he nodded. "Well, while you're deciding, why don't you do it over here?" With a gentle tug, he began towing her forward.
"Jack," she reproached in a soft voice. "This won't resolve anything."
"Maybe not," he stated as he settled her onto his lap, "but we'll both enjoy ourselves in the meantime."
His mouth met hers in a languid mating, fervid and fresh, the power of his kiss never failing to steal her breath and ignite her desire. She could have put up some token effort to resist, but what was the point? He would have her eventually, and she would be eager to let him. In this there were no denials and no regrets.
Suddenly aching to make love, she kissed him harder, sinking her fingers into his hair so she could hold his head steady for her own intense, carnal claiming.
He was panting when they came up for air. "We may have our share of troubles," he said, fitting his palm over her breast for a tantalizing massage. "But we always get along perfectly in bed. What do you say we go find one?"
"Y-you mean now? Here?" she gasped, her own breath far from steady.
His fingers found her nipple and stroked her flesh, so that it beaded into a sharp, aching peak. "I'm sure the innkeeper would be happy to oblige us with his best accommodation."
"B-but what about d-driving back to Town? Won't our absence be noticed?"
"Let them notice. It's not as if there's anything wrong with Lord and Lady John Byron spending a night away."
Realizing he was right, she nodded her agreement and kissed him hard again.
In reply, he ravished her mouth, opening her lips to take her with his tongue the way he would soon be taking her with his body.
Suddenly, he pulled back. "I'd better go see about that room while I still have enough blood left in my brain to think."
In answer, she skimmed her lips over his cheek and temple, pausing to kiss him behind his ear in a spot she knew drove him mad.
"Stop that," he admonished in a stern voice. "Or I'll be taking you right here in this chair."
Smiling, she swirled her tongue over the area, feeling him stiffen beneath her as she parted her lips for a kiss that would likely leave a mark. After suckling for a long moment, she pulled away just enough to blow against the wet skin, while below her fingers went to the hard bulge of his erection and gave a gliding stroke.
///
His hips arched, hands lowering to lift her off his lap. "Then again, maybe you want me to take you in this chair."
Pushing her skirts up, he spread her legs apart so she straddled his thighs. Tearing open the buttons on his falls, he slid his knees wider and her as well.
She moaned, wet heat throbbing in her core. Afraid of overbalancing, she gripped his shoulders. But she needn't have worried; Jack's hold was strong and steady. And then without further hesitation, he brought her down, impaling her fully on his rampant shaft.
"Don't say you weren't warned," he told her on a harsh rasp, as he began thrusting deeply inside her.
She groaned and matched his pace. "Don't s-say you w-weren't either."
And then she plundered his lips with long, torrid kisses, riding him with abandon until they both claimed their bliss.
She came awake slowly with her head pillowed on Jack's chest, their naked limbs tangled together. He was soundly asleep in the bed, one arm draped over her back, while the other lay bent above his head.
After the last few months together, she knew it was his preferred posture. That and spooned in behind her so he could take her in the morning before either of them was completely awake. He seemed to enjoy that position the best-as well as their early morning couplings. She did too, if only because she didn't have to think or try to raise her emotional armor against him. They were simply two people, drawn together by mutual need.
Opening her eyes, she gazed into the darkness, not immediately recognizing the room. Then her memory snapped back into place.
The inn. Of course.
Somehow, after their impetuous lovemaking in the private parlor, they managed to rearrange their clothing and smooth their hair long enough for Jack to request a room for the night. Once inside, they'd said little, stripping to the skin before falling into the bed to pleasure each other again. This time, however, the loving had been slow, easy, almost poignant. Jack kissing and caressing her with a tenderness that had left her shaken. When it was over, she'd lain in his arms, wondering again what she should do, no closer to an answer than before.
At length, she'd fallen asleep.
So now here she was again, undecided and unsure.
He wanted them to have a real marriage, he claimed. To end their estrangement and have her stay permanently as his wife. Yet, despite his declaration, there had still been no mention of love.
Only want. Only need. And a desire to try again.
Is it enough?
She just didn't know.
Part of her longed to say yes, to give up her struggles and worries, and accept her life at his side. But by doing so, she would be leaving herself vulnerable to him once again. And still more terrifying was the risk she took of falling in love with him all over again.
As suddenly as the thought occurred, though, she knew that it was already too late.
Oh, God, I do love him. Did I ever really stop?
In spite of admitting the truth to herself, she wasn't sure she was ready to commit. She didn't know if she could ever again give herself to him in the same unreservedly trusting way she once had. What if she opened her heart again and he betrayed her? What if she gave him everything only to awaken one morning to see regret in his eyes? Or, worse, disinterest and boredom?
The very idea made her shrivel inside. If she let him in and he hurt her again, she didn't know if she could recover.
And yet, he wanted an answer.
Yes or no?
Lying in the dark with her head pillowed on the warm plane of his chest, she listened to the quiet, even susurration of his breathing. She took comfort in the sound and the faint movement as her thoughts tumbled in endless circles.
Still considering, she fell asleep.
Chapter 23
The next morning Grace was no closer to making a decision than she had been the night before.
To her relief, Jack didn't bring up the issue, and neither did she. Talking about practically everything else, they shared a companionable breakfast at the inn, then returned to London.
The instant they walked through the town house's front door, the Season and all its attendant obligations came rushing back upon them. Wading straight into the thick of things, she changed her gown, then hurried off to a promised garden party, while Jack drove to Tattersalls to meet friends and inspect the newest horses arrived for sale.
That night, she and Jack attended a ball, dancing twice before sharing a midnight supper at an intimate table for two. After arriving home, they went to bed, where he made exquisite love to her. She fell into a dreamless sleep, locked again inside the comfort of his arms.
The following morning, she expected him to once again press her for an answer. Especially when he joined her for breakfast at the little table in her bedroom. But in spite of sharing a cheerful meal, nothing more was said on the subject.
///
And nothing would be, she began to realize, as one day flowed smoothly into another. The next move was up to her, and clearly he was letting her choose when and how to make it.
Secure in that knowledge, she relaxed, deciding not to decide for the present and to let their time together during the last weeks of the Season help her make the right choice.
On the surface, their lives were very much as they'd been before their night at the inn, with endless rounds of parties and social obligations that frequently took them out of each other's company. And yet underneath, nothing was the same, a subtle connection forming between them that she couldn't entirely describe. He'd always been attentive in the past, but now he was especially gentle with her. He anticipated her needs in small ways without her ever having to say a word, whether it was making sure she'd remembered to bring her fan to a rout or suggesting they depart early if she seemed tired.
He touched her more too, and not just in bed. While chatting with others at a party, he might lay his hand against her waist. Or when visiting with his family, she often found his fingers playing absently over the warm gold of her wedding band and across the center of her palm. Many times, she didn't think he was even aware he was doing it, his actions seeming unconscious and automatic. And because they were, she began to wonder. Began to nurse the fragile hope that he was actually falling in love with her.