Page 20 of Once Ruined, Twice Shy

He’d responded so quickly, she couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts were running along the same road as hers. She hoped not, because the sight of those dimples and the idea of sharing a room had opened up luscious visions in her imagination.

“As I have now revealed everything to you—” Bother. That was a poor choice of words.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, bringing her to the blush.

“I mean, now I’ve been honest with you, you can get to know me better without any deception.”

“Very well. I shall put some questions to you then, Miss Hestia Normanton. Who is your father?”

“Colonel William Normanton. He used to command the North Essex Regiment of Foot.”

“At Waterloo?”

“No. He retired a few months before that battle took place.”

“Where does he live?”

Could she trust Conall with this information? She let out a sigh. She was trusting him with pretty much everything else, including her person. What harm could it do?

“My parents live at Clement’s House, in the small town of Thaxted, in Essex. Do you know it?”

His expression was shuttered. Was he disappointed she was a mere colonel’s daughter?

“No, I’ve never set foot in Essex, despite the London house being on the eastern edge of town. I’ve never even ventured as far as Hatfield.”

He didn’t sound particularly interested. Which was a relief.

Leaning forward, so their knees were touching, he took her hand in his and began a rhythmic stroking motion across the back of it. “Tell me about yourself, now, Hestia. What do you enjoy, what age are you? What were your favourite lessons as a child?”

What did she enjoy? The feel of his warm fingers on her skin, for a start.

“I… um… I enjoyed Latin and poetry. I’m not overly keen on arithmetic, but perfectly capable of keeping household accounts. As I mentioned before, I very much like making pickles and conserves, and cooking is quite a comfort to me, especially making a good meal from very little. I am of full age—I turned one-and-twenty in early June.”

“Excellent. So, we wouldn’t need to go to Gretna.”

He was jesting, surely. He hadn’t genuinely considered carrying her off to Gretna Green to wed her, had he? His eye was bright as he looked at her, but she couldn’t be sure if he was teasing.

“What else do you like?” He turned her hand over, and traced his forefinger across the palm, before circling the underside of her wrist. The impact of his touch thundered through her until she felt her whole body was poised and waiting for more. A great deal more. She gulped, then closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the tingles of delight his touch ignited in her, but he immediately removed his hand.

Her eyes flicked open.

“Sorry. I thought I’d better stop if you wanted to sleep.”

While he was stroking her like that? Never in a million years. She wouldn’t want to miss a single glorious minute. “How can I sleep when you are tantalising me so?”

The dimples appeared, and her whole body warmed. “Welcome, or a nuisance?”

He’d think her fast if she admitted his touch was welcome. But what of it? He knew she was no blushing virgin—there was no point pretending otherwise.

“Welcome.”

He sat back, a smug look on his face. “Good. Unfortunately, we’ve hit a bouncy bit of road, and I cannot maintain my usual finesse. So, if you wish to sleep, feel free to do so. I can offer you a shoulder.”

It had, indeed, become very bumpy. The coach lurched, and their knees crashed together. Hurriedly, she shifted across to sit on the seat beside him. He placed an arm around her shoulders and cradled her against his side. “Less risk of bruises this way.”

“Very practical,” she muttered against his chest. He felt familiar and comfortable, but at the same time dangerous and unpredictable. The rhythmic rise and fall of his rib cage, the steady pulse of his heart beneath her ear, infused her body with joy—and an odd sensation of having, somehow, come home.

Chapter 12