Chapter 10

The carriage rumbled down another dusty road, Isabelle as comfortable as one could be in a carriage with Bode's chest once again acting as her pillow.

His arm supported her back as her legs curled up on the rest of the seat.

Bode stared out the window, silently observing the passing landscape.

"Still worried we're being followed?" Isabelle asked, lifting her head to better study his profile.

He looked at her then, his features softer than she'd ever seen them. "Not as much. I'm more just marveling at the countryside."

"Marveling." She smiled, sliding her hand up his chest. "Why is that?"

"I've only ever left London one other time," he answered, his gaze drifting back out the window. "It's peaceful here. I like it."

"One time?" she asked, her brows lifting. "I find that most unfortunate." She had the sudden urge to show him all the places she loved in the world that were filled with trees and crystal-clear rivers.

His gaze returned to hers, his brows slashing into a straight line. "Why is that?"

"Because I far prefer the countryside to the city. Clean, bright, quiet. A person can really think and breathe out in the country."

His features softened again. "I agree."

She reached up, tracing another of his scars, the puckered flesh flexing under her finger. "We used to spend a great deal of time at one of my father's country estates before it fell into disrepair. You should hear it on a summer evening. It's loud too, but in such a beautiful way. Insects and birds chirping about as the breeze rustles the trees."

He cocked his head, studying her as he asked, "The property fell into disrepair? How did that happen?"

She shrugged. "I know my father has a penchant for gambling and my mother for fine things. My father always seemed the more sensible of the two, but I've heard him muttering on several occasions about…"

"What?"

Isabelle looked away, a little hurt lancing through her. "He has no heir. His cousin will inherit the title when my father passes, and I think my father felt as though there was no reason to hold himself accountable."

Bode rumbled out a protest. "Three daughters seem like a damn good reason to me."

Isabelle chewed her lower lip. Bode was a man who took care of the women in his life. She'd bet he'd make an excellent father…

"We stopped going to Fairview when I was maybe twelve. My father changed, after that, though. Or perhaps I just remember him differently because I changed too. Prior to that, we seemed reasonably happy. But after…" She remembered her father drinking more, her parents fighting a great deal.

Isabelle had attempted to shield her sisters from the deep unhappiness that had settled about their family like a shroud. "My sisters are both wonderful. Kathryn is so smart that she'd steal your breath away, and Anna…sweetest person I know."

His brows lifted. "Do they look like you?"

She nodded. "Oh yes. Same hair and eyes, both prettier though."

"I doubt it."

That made her smile. "With dowries, I'm sure we'll be able to find them both wonderful husbands. Not lords, of course."

"Why is that? Your father's an earl."

"My match with Makem taints not only me but them as well. A good match begets good matches. But a poor one…" She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter. I've already told you that I don't think a title makes a man. They'll surely be able to marry merchants or second or third sons who have a trade or?—"

"What about you?" Bode asked.

"What about me?"

"I asked you yesterday what you intended to do after we best Makem."

She shrugged. "I can't have the marriage annulled as you suggested. My sisters will lose their future."

His abdomen tightened underneath her. "And if he were dead?"

She knew that Bode and Makem were locked in the sort of match that might result in death. Maybe even hers. Her "husband" had set fire to the house in which she'd been held captive. What would she do if he died, and she were left his widow?

"Would you marry a lord then?"

Her nose wrinkled. "Definitely not."

"Why?"

She shook her head, not even sure herself. "Even before my father made the deal with Makem, I felt disconnected from that world. Maybe even disdainful."

"And what do you think of my world?"

He sold women's flesh…she knew that. "You are all working for your own survival. And yet still, you don't abuse those women. From everything I hear, you protect them, help them onto a path that leads to a better life. Most lords I know could enact significant change and yet they do nothing but chase their own pleasure. Shades of my father…"

"Ah. I see."

He surely did from what she understood about his past. "Besides, I've now stayed in two houses of ill-repute and participated in a chase across England."

"An adventurer, now, are you?"

She laughed. "Maybe."

He reached up to stroke her cheek. "So you won't marry a lord."

"I won't marry at all unless the man is worth his salt," she whispered, holding Bode's gaze. He was worth a great deal more than salt. He was gold.

He looked away. "After what you've been through, I can't blame you."

"What about you? Will you ever marry?"

A frown pulled at his lips. "After watching my parents, I thought never to indulge in even a casual affair let alone marriage…"

Something raw ached in her chest at those words. She could hardly blame him but still.

"Duke and I made a pact we'd never wed. It seemed the best way to avoid the mistakes of our fathers to not involve ourselves with women at all."

She ignored the hurt that pulsed through her. He had every right to feel that way and he'd made her no promises, nor had she asked for them. "How long did you live with Duke?"

"I was ten," he answered. "He only left six months ago, so that would make it nineteen years." Bode stared out the window, absently stroking her back. "Difficult as any man I've ever met but his heart is always in the right place. I'm not sure I would have made it out of the darkness without him."

"How wonderful to have a friend like that."

Bode's gaze swung to her. "I know it. Just like I'm lucky to know you."

She didn't have a clue what he was suggesting. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are like him in this regard. You're the person leading your sisters away from the darkness."

She blinked in surprise. She'd met Duke and she'd not thought to herself that man and I are precisely alike.

But she did see his point. "Not currently. And I do worry about both Kathryn and Anna. I'll have to go back to London at some point. They need me…"

Bode nodded. "We'll get you back to them as soon as we can."

Her heart gave another hopeful thrum. Did he have to go and sound so endearing? She respected his stance on relationships and marriage, but how was she supposed to hold herself apart when he went and said things like that?

* * *

As darkness fell, they reached the next inn and Bode groaned thanks. His legs ached…his body exhausted.

One room.

That was the plan.

A plan he'd agreed with for several reasons. He wanted her safe, wanted her close. Wanted her…

He shouldn't allow himself to think these thoughts. He didn't do sexual relationships. Not ever… Hell, he'd not even had a woman meet his needs in years, it was too risky for the life he'd chosen.

But something had shifted last night. Isabelle was too much to be denied. Her beauty and her grace soothed something in his tattered soul, her soft touches like a balm.

The driver knocked on the door, signaling their rooms were ready and Bode pulled his hat low, helping Isabelle from the carriage.

She walked on his arm, though her body was positioned a bit in front of his so that anyone who might glance at them would meet her eye, not his.

He tipped his hat lower as he flipped the collar of his coat up trying to mask his scars as much as possible on the short trip to their room.

They made their way into the darkened inn, bypassing the desk and headed for the stairs. The place was full, the common room bustling with activity and the loud calls of travelers and town folk alike.

And a group of men moved past them, one of the men brushing Bode's shoulder.

"Pardon…" the man started but his voice drifted off as he looked at Bode's face.

Gritting his teeth, Bode guided Isabelle up the stairs. His scars were too easily recognizable. If someone was following them…

They walked into their room as Bode attempted to decide if they should continue onto the next town or remain here for the night. He'd feel better if no one had seen him but what were the chances that one man would cause trouble?

A few seconds later, a knock sounded. "Dinner," the innkeeper called. Isabelle opened the door and then took the tray of stew and bread.

He rose, closing the door behind her and turned the lock.

"You're worried," she murmured as she set the food down on the small table.

Bode frowned as he removed his hat, tossing it to the side. He was worried but now he was bothering Isabelle. She need not share in his concern. "I'm fine."

He pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. It was after ten in the evening. He scrubbed his neck as he slipped the watch back in his pocket.

They'd already paid for the room. They'd rest for a few hours and then start out again before dawn.

Decision made, he sat in the chair across from Isabelle eating the bowl of stew, the silence between them was comfortable as they both ate. She'd spent most of the day in his arms, and they'd reached some understanding, some connection, Bode had never shared with another person.

It was both beautiful and worrisome, but he pushed those thoughts to the side.

When Isabelle had finished, she pushed back from the table, bending down to remove her boots.

Even the simple act of watching her fingers on the buckles of the boot had him tightening with need, his cock thickening and lengthening.

There was no changing the path now, he'd taken Isabelle from London, and they'd be together for the next several days.

But he could hardly control his body's response to her. She was skirting past his rules and overriding his judgment.

She stood then, shrugging off her jacket, and then pulled at the ties of her skirt. He'd been reaching for his Hessians when he sat up straight again. "What are you doing?"

She turned away, showing him her back. "Getting comfortable. I'm sick of these clothes."

His jaw hardened. He'd seen what was underneath her clothing, Isabelle was beyond tempting. "I'm not certain?—"

"Bode." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I just want a few hours of uninterrupted sleep."

His jaw clenched as he stood, tugging off his own coat. He wanted that too. But far more than that, he wanted to feel her skin, slide his hands along her curves uninterrupted.

He knew he was losing what precious hold he had on his self-control. With a rumble, he tugged off his cravat even as he watched her peel off the top of her dress and then the small corset she wore underneath.

"I don't think I'm going to bother putting the corset back on," she murmured. "It makes the carriage even more uncomfortable."

She stood in nothing but her chemise and stockings now, the firelight dancing in front of her, making the garment see-through.

He was going to hell because all he could imagine was tracing his hands down her tiny waist and over the flare of her hips.