Page 50 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“I am.”

“I have, ah, great regard for you.”

“I’m glad.” It was doubtless unkind of her to be amused, but she could not help it. There was something intensely appealing about an unsure, even flustered Carlisle Thorne. She could see a younger Carlisle in him now, one who had not yet fully learned to cope and control. And somehow the sight of the firm, cool, implacable Carlisle so obviously ill at ease, unable to put everything into tidy order, aroused her own desire. Or, perhaps more accurately, it stirred her to know that she was the reason for his lack of composure. It was her nearness that unsettled him, the desire to kiss her that had him struggling.

He cast her a dark glance. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“A little.” She gave him a slow smile and was rewarded by the subtle slackening in his face.

“You know I’m right.” His voice turned husky.

“I do.” Noelle crossed her legs, in the process exposing her ankle a bit. His eyes flickered to her and away. Again she thought that she was wrong to tease him, but it had been so long since she had engaged in even the slightest banter with a man, aware that she would be courting danger to flirt. But with Carlisle, she felt...safe.

“I want...” His eyes were dark with passion. “Well, you know what I want. But I cannot. I promised I would not make advances toward you, and I won’t. I will not treat you that way.”

And that, more than anything, spoke of what he would think of Noelle if she slept with him. She would see in his eyes the loss of his respect for her, no matter how much desire glittered there, too. The things he had thought of her earlier would be confirmed.

She couldn’t become his mistress. She could not put her son in that position. Or the countess. If Carlisle refused to look upon her as a loose woman, then surely she should not behave like one. With an inward sigh, Noelle slid over until she was against the opposite wall. “Of course.”

Relief—and, perhaps, just a bit of disappointment?—showed in his face. He cleared his throat. “We cannot afford to dismiss Sloane’s claim even if it seems unlikely. We must look into it. I’ll search the earl’s papers—though I cannot imagine how I could have missed something like that before—and speak to his man of business and his attorney. We’ll have to remain another day in London, I fear.”

“Naturally.”

A strained silence fell on the carriage. It was easy enough to say they would not become lovers. It proved far harder not to think about it. In fact, there was little Noelle could think about except the night ahead of them, the intimacy of staying at the inn. Nor could she smother the fire that had started low in her abdomen. Whatever bit of conversation they had, whatever thought she forcibly pulled her mind to, beneath it was that constant physical awareness of Carlisle, the thrum of her own need.

She felt too warm and stifled beneath the heavy material of her carriage dress. The fabric brushed over her skin with every movement of her arms. She rarely noticed such a thing; now she yearned to pull it from her, to have nothing but the touch of air against her flesh. Her pulse thudded too rapidly, her breath came too fast.

Whenever she looked over at Carlisle, it seemed to her that his condition was no better than hers. His color was high; he frequently shifted in his seat, as if he could not get comfortable. He kept glancing at her, then away. He tugged at the lapels of his jacket; he pulled down the cuffs of his shirt. He drummed his fingers on his leg.

Every movement, every restless gesture, every twitch of frustration he made tightened the hunger coiling in her. Noelle wanted out of the carriage, yearned to reach the inn so that she could be released. At the same time, she dreaded arriving, for the inn would offer the real temptation. Here, in the confines of the carriage, she could make a vow of chastity. There, she would actually have to follow through with it.

Evening fell, slowing their progress. The only light inside the vehicle filtered in from the outside carriage lamps, and the darkness made the ride even more intimate, wrapping around them like velvet. Carlisle was a dark form on the other side, his face shadowed.

It would be so easy to slide across the seat to him, to lean into him, her head against his arm. Would he turn and take her in his arms if she did so? Would he pull her into his lap and kiss her lips, his hand gliding seductively down her body? Noelle trembled. It was better not to think this way.

They pulled into the yard of an inn. Carlisle shot out the door, and after turning to give her a polite hand down from the carriage, he went forward to talk to their coachman. Noelle looked around her. It was too dark to see much other than that the place looked tidy but small. It was so quiet she would have thought the inn had closed down except that light glowed through the thick, opaque glass of what she supposed was the public room.

A groom, carrying a paraffin lamp, came forward to help them, and a moment later, the front door opened, revealing a short, heavyset man who beamed at them, waving them forward. “Come in. Come in, sir, ma’am.”

Carlisle returned to her side, and as they walked toward the innkeeper, he told her, “Anders said it’s another hour to the inn where we stayed yesterday. The horses are tired. If this place is adequate, perhaps we’d better put up here for the night.”

She nodded. “It is getting rather late.” Better, she thought, not to return to the close environs of their coach.

The man at the door bobbed a greeting to them and repeated his invitation. “Come in, come in. Many a traveler tonight. But you’re in luck, sir, as we still have a room left for you and the missus.”

One room? Noelle felt Carlisle’s arm stiffen beneath her hand. “Perhaps we should see it.”

“Of course. Of course.” The man, who apparently had a preference for saying things twice, led them down the hall. Noelle caught a glimpse of the small tavern, where two men sat, before the innkeeper led them up the stairs. “Will you be wanting supper, then? The private room is free for you and your wife.”

Carlisle didn’t disabuse him of the notion that they were married, but merely said, “Yes, that would be good even if we decide to travel on tonight.”

“I think you’ll find the room to your liking.” He opened the last door in the hallway. Noelle had been right about the size of the place. There were only four doors along the corridor. “Not what you’re accustomed to, I’m sure, but it’s comfortable and tidy. My wife’s a demon for cleaning.”

The room wasn’t large, but as the man had said, it was neat and clean, with a washstand, chest, and bed. Noelle looked around the room, not saying a word. Let Carlisle decide this. She sneaked a glance at him. His eyes lingered on the bed. Noelle could see the color beginning to creep up his throat. She pivoted away.

“Yes. This will do,” he said at last.

“Excellent, sir. I’ll see to your food.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.