Page 21 of Once Ruined, Twice Shy

“Wake up, Hestia. We’ve arrived.”

Wake up? She shifted and raised her head, her neck stiff. “Have I been asleep?”

Amusement bubbled in Conall’s voice as he helped her straighten her bonnet. “Almost all the way since Marlborough. I’ve been miserably lonely. See, it’s almost dusk.”

She peered out the window of the carriage and saw he was correct. “You should have woken me.”

“You haven’t missed anything, I assure you. Here, I’ll get out and help you down.”

Before long they were safely ensconced in a not-unpleasant pair of rooms at the Eagle Inn in Newbury. One of the chambers was a sitting room, where they dined on baked carp, pickled beets and fresh peas. Conversation was somewhat awkward—Hestia was very much aware there was only one bedchamber, which sported an ornate canopied bed made at least two centuries ago. There was no settle or pull-out truckle bed. Perhaps if she slept under the covers and he slept on top…

She drank rather more than she usually would, aiming to settle her nerves. Part of her was desperate for something to happen between them tonight. Another part was terrified she would disappoint him, so it was better not to even try. How quickly he’d become an essential part of her existence!

Moving across to the window, she gazed out, hoping for distraction. Night had settled as a starless void in the cloudy sky, and small orange points of light flickered out one after another as the citizens of Newbury sought their beds. She didn’t have long in which to decide whether or not she cared for Conall enough to give herself to him.

She did care for him enough. Her desire for him was genuine. But she’d been played false once—it would be all too easy to fall into the same trap again.

Conall’s voice made her jump. “I need to have a word with the landlord about tomorrow morning. I also want to check on Miners and Gaisford, and ensure they have good accommodation. I don’t fancy driving into London tomorrow with a grumpy coachman and an irritable footman. In the meantime, I suggest you get yourself ready for bed.”

The last was an innocent enough remark, but she couldn’t help but infuse it with another meaning entirely. She’d been with Frederick too long—he had totally spoiled her for other men.

A good dousing with cold water from the ewer on the tiny dressing table would sort out her unruly thoughts. Having done that, she fought with her clothing, then realised she’d need help with the lacing at the back. Bother! There’d always been someone else to do it for her. Now she’d have to ask Conall.

Thank heaven for the wine she’d had with supper. It made her braver than she would have been otherwise. By the time he returned, she was kneeling on the bed wearing only her corset and shift.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you’d be undressed and in bed by now.” He peeled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

“You can take that smirk off your face. I’m not in this state of undress in order to tantalise you. I just need some help. Please.”

“Pity.” He unknotted his cravat and put that on the chair too. “Just a moment. I’d like to get out of this.” He applied his fingers to the brass buttons of his waistcoat, and she watched the undoing of each one with increasing hunger. Had he no shame? And what was she doing watching him? Despite knowing it was wicked, she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he shouldered out of the waistcoat, unbuttoned and stepped out of his breeches, then sat on a chair to remove his shoes and stockings. This left him in just his shirt, which was—mercifully—long.

Good. At least he had some clothing to sleep in, and she would soon be unlaced, in bed, and able to rest.

But all thoughts of relaxing fled as he turned his back to her, drew his shirt over his head, then dropped it into the corridor before closing the door. She clapped her hands to her eyes as he came towards the bed, but not before her mind had taken an instant likeness of his body—which was, quite simply, magnificent. Where Frederick was slender and sinewy, Conall was broad and muscular, with a wide chest and narrow hips. Completely compelling.

The blood flowed into her face, and to other, more secret places as well. Could he detect her flush through her fingers? Wretched man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Stand up, please. I can’t unlace you on the bed. Well, I could, but the other way would be quicker.”

She started. His voice was right by her ear. How had he managed to move so fast in silence? Keeping her eyes averted from his unashamed nakedness, she stood, but her mind kept redrawing the image of his superbly masculine body, now standing right behind her, radiating heat into her back.

His fingers were swift and sure, his right hand no clumsier than his left. As soon as she was free of her corsets, her nipples peaked in sheer wantonness.

Cool air feathered her back, and moments later she heard the rustle of bedclothes.

“You can open your eyes now. I’m perfectly decent and in bed. You’ll have to forgive me—I needed to send my shirt to be washed and dried, so I have something clean to wear on the morrow.”

She opened her eyes, then pondered his use of the word ‘decent’. He’d pulled the covers barely above his hips, and was leaning back against the pillows, his hands behind his head, observing her.

Heat pooled between her legs. Glory, but she only had to look at the man, and she was already aching for him! If only she’d known there were men in the world like him, she’d never have settled for Frederick. The demands of her body were rapidly getting the better of her common sense.

“You look hot, sweeting. Shall I open the window?”

And expose himself to her again? A lump formed in her throat. “Yes please, if you would.”

This time, she permitted herself the luxury of devouring him with her eyes, admiring the white rounded buttocks, the firm thighs, the smooth skin of his back. So different to Frederick, who had weals across his, from an undeserved flogging he refused to talk about.

She pretended to look away as Conall returned, then realised he’d removed his right glove. As he sat upright beside her in the bed, she gestured at his hand. “May I see?”