Page 56 of Better Off Wed

“Wrap your hand around my cock.” Without hesitation, she did as he asked, almost scorched by the heat of him. “Yes, that’s right. Tighter. Now move your hand up and down.” As it had during their game of chess, his hand covered hers to guide her movement. “Oh, God,” he grunted. “Feels so good.” His hand fell away as she caught the rhythm, learning the speed and pressure that pleased him most, every sensation intensified by the steady jostling of the carriage.

His legs stretched out, taut, the toes of his boots pressing against the base of the seat opposite. Recognizing the rictus of climax, her body answered; instinctively, she squeezed her thighs together to strengthen the pulse throbbing at her core.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes.”

He came in spurts that surprised and delighted her, and when his body sagged, utterly spent, eyes closed, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his, trying to seal the moment in her memory.

Another time, he’d said. But that had been lust speaking, the wanton pleasures of their last hours together, on one of the last golden days before autumn settled in and winter followed hard behind.

And a few moments later, as he rummaged in his pocket for his handkerchief and efficiently wiped away the evidence of their encounter, she knew he understood it too. After peering out the window, and announcing that they were nearing a village, he began methodically to set his clothes to rights, tucking in his shirt hems, buttoning up his breeches, and making an effort at tying his neckcloth before turning to her with a lopsided smile.

“I don’t suppose this is one of the dozens of things you’re unexpectedly good at?”

She was still kneeling beside him, leaning into his solidness and strength. “I’ll try.”

While she fussed over the knot, he tried to smooth her disordered curls. “It was marvelous, Laura. Beyond my wildest imaginings,” he said after a moment. “But was it unwise?”

“What a question,” she said, arranging the last folds and then laying her palm in the center of his chest, firm and steadying.

Thankfully, before she could be expected to say more, the carriage rolled to a stop in Dartford, where they were to rest the horses. On the village green, they enjoyed a picnic lunch from Mrs. Tenney’s hamper and spoke deliberately of other things. Afterward, Jeremy took a walk to stretch his legs and returned with a pretty bonnet and pair of kid gloves she doubted he could afford and which she knew she should not accept, though she did.

When they resumed their journey, he invited her to rest her head against his chest. Wrapped in his arms, she dozed, waking to discover that the sun would soon set.

Of course it had been unwise. All of it.

But she refused to waste a moment on regret.

Chapter 16

“We’re nearly to London,” Jeremy whispered against her hair, reluctant to wake her but knowing he had no choice.

God, yes, it had been a mistake to go along with her ridiculous game of pretend, to kiss her and touch her, to hold her while she slept.

And he would do any of it, all of it, again in a heartbeat.

But London loomed on the horizon, which meant he wouldn’t have a chance. He was about to become Captain Addison again, would soon be absorbed in his usual duties. He would concoct some excuse to tell Mama and Julia about where he’d been and why, which they would believe, and would concoct another excuse for General Scott, which he would not.

And Laura would go on doing the dangerous work she had to do. He would listen when Julia read of Lady Sterling’s exploits in the papers and would try not to worry.

He would fail.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Laura stirred and straightened, buttoned up her pelisse, then made a project of fluffing her hair before she put on the new bonnet and gloves, retreating into respectability.

He reached into his pocket for the stockings he had taken off her the night before, and held them out to her. Foolishly, he’d kept them with him—had hoped to keep them always. “So you won’t have to go barefoot.”

“Thank you.” She extended her leg, and he hurriedly drew the stocking over her injured ankle, daring to travel no higher than the turn of her calf. The spare stocking he draped over her lap. All the while, she looked out the window, as if in search of some familiar landmark. “Where are you taking me?”

“General Zebadiah Scott’s house.”

She whipped about to stare at him; mercifully, her eyes were in shadow, so he could not make out her expression. “That’s Fitz’s commanding officer. Yours too, I gather.”

Knowing how quick she was, knowing no reply was needed, he said nothing.

“It was he who sent you in search of Lady Sterling, wasn’t it?” Laura went on after a moment. “In search of a clearer understanding of my intentions, I believe you said. Why does he want such a thing?”