Chapter Sixteen
A harried maid scurried past Dorian at the top of the inn's stairs. "Mother Nature is all in a tizzy, isn't she?" She didn't pause for a response before continuing down the hall with two pails of water that sent up curls of steam in the cool air.
His staff were relieved to be off the roads. Jim, the young groom, had a purple tinge to his lips, and Gibson, the coachman, was soaked through. People and carriages clogged the stable yard as more travelers left the road due to the weather. Based on the number of people claiming spots on the tavern floor and the harried expression on the innkeeper's face as Dorian slipped up the stairs, everyone was damn near stranded at this point.
If one had to be stuck in a slightly dodgy inn hours from London, there was no one better to share a bed with than the delectable Caro Danvers.
The woman was a marvel, and they hadn't even fully enjoyed one another yet.
Rage on, Mother Nature , he thought. Knocking twice as she'd directed, he tried not to fidget as he waited for her to open the door. Then, there she was—wet, bedraggled, and somehow still so striking the sight of her made his chest ache. Stepping inside, he locked the door and surveyed their bedchamber.
"I think this will do nicely." Caro's statement held a note of challenge. It only took her three paces to reach the fireplace on the far wall, but her look threatened another pointed lecture on pampered gentlemen should he complain about the spartan accommodations.
Dorian removed his hat and set it beside the chipped washing ewer. There weren't many other options, especially since they'd need to dry all their things the best they could in a small space. "It's perfect. Thank you for letting me stay."
She shot him a smile, then knelt and added a log to the fire from the tidy stack beside the hearth.
He'd slept in worse places on the Continent. Of course, these bed linens might be damp or scattered with mouse droppings. Yet Caro seemed content, and that was something else he respected about her.
Calling the room snug would be generous. A bed barely wide enough to sleep two took up one wall. The opposite wall had a table with the ewer and a basin for washing. The mirror above the table reflected directly across the room to the bed, which inspired wicked ideas. Before the fireplace were two wood chairs and a table no larger than a chessboard. The room was bare of anything beyond the essentials. At least they wouldn't have to worry about their wet clothes soaking a rug.
"Traveling with you on the Continent during the war would have been downright enjoyable, I think." He'd so often felt guilty for being grateful Juliet hadn't been present to criticize the accommodations in the various camps. Such a strange thing to want someone there while being simultaneously relieved to not bear the burden of her complaints over the rustic conditions.
Juliet never, for a moment, forgot she was a duchess. In contrast, Caro never imagined she was. The differences between the women were sometimes jarring. Like when Caro took him to task over being concerned for her safety while traveling alone.
She rose and offered a bemused smile. "That's kind of you to say." Caro reached into her curls and began to shake out the tangled mass. Pins scattered over the floor with the distinct tink of metal meeting wood. "With the rain pounding on the roof, it's quite cozy, don't you think?"
The curve of her bottom lip looked delicious—that's what he thought.
Dorian draped his overcoat next to her cloak on the warm tile of the hearth and enjoyed the way her breasts shifted beneath her pelisse while her fingers plucked pins and unplaited her hair.
"You're awfully quiet, but that look makes me feel like you're going to pounce at any moment. What are you thinking?"
"I need you to tell me you won't regret this later. Because Caro, I want you so much I'm nearly shaking with it." He prowled closer, until the rain-washed scent of her was stronger than the smoke from the wood in the hearth. "I want you naked and moaning, and I'm dying to watch those amazing breasts move while I pound into you… That's what I'm thinking."
At his words, Caro lifted one brow and sent him a siren's smile. "No regrets. Remove your gloves, Dorian."
The commanding tone made his cock leap to attention with such force it actually hurt, and he'd thought it impossible to get harder.
Tugging the wet leather off, one finger at a time, Dorian smiled, remembering her confession in the carriage, that she'd fantasized about his hands. "Whatever you want my fingers to do, they'll do. I'm yours to command."
A rough swallow was her only response, but that was enough for him. "Now your coat and waistcoat, if you please."
"Will you remove your pelisse?" The green satin waistcoat joined the growing pile of his clothing.
Taking her time, Caro unhooked the buttons between her breasts, and Dorian thought the anticipation might drive him mad. Her movements were deliberate and controlled as she draped the garment over the back of a chair.
Her chilly fingers unknotted his cravat then unwound the length of linen. A sound akin to a purr rose from her chest as she stroked his naked throat, then caressed the dip where his collarbones met. "I've thought so many times of unwrapping you. Unraveling all this perfection."
"Have you?" Dorian plucked the fichu from her gown and tossed it toward where she'd draped her pelisse. "We know how I feel about this thing. It's designed to torment me."
The vibration of her laugh traveled up his fingertips, and an actual sigh of relief shook him when he finally touched the valley of her cleavage. Dorian traced the swell of each breast and caressed the velvety skin on the slope of her shoulder, until he couldn't take another second without her taste, and he palmed her nape for a hungry kiss.
Any lingering control disappeared as clothing was shoved aside. "Bed," he gasped.
Caro ignored his demand and stepped out of the embrace to let her wool gown and petticoat slide to the floor in a pool at her feet. Standing in a worn shift, gone slightly gray from washing and wear, she still carried herself like a queen and had no compunction about commanding a duke. Pointing to the remaining chair she said, "Sit. I'll help you remove your boots."
"Never mind my boots." Dorian pulled her down to straddle his lap, and eager hands explored the bare flesh of her soft thighs, then slid higher to cup her bottom. Her shift was scratchy against his hand, and he frowned. His shirts were made of thinner material than her undergarments. "Your skin should be cradled in lace and satin, not this rough fabric."
"If my shift offends you, remove it," she teased. A smile played at her mouth as he untied the damp laces of her stays with shaky fingers.
He couldn't help the noise he made when her glorious breasts slipped free of the supporting garment, and the wet material of the shift let him see dark, tight nipples. "Fuck, I feel like a green lad seeing my first woman."
But when he gripped the hem of her shift to finally bare her to his hungry gaze, something heavy fell between them. A quick glance offered little clarity, because there, in the space between his chest and the breasts with which he desperately wanted to become better acquainted, was a pile of pound notes, coins, and a scrap of fabric with an embroidered edge. Were those daisies? "I'm not sure what to do right now. I wanted nipples but found money instead."
Something deep in his chest warmed at her laugh. "Mr. Lipscomb pays cash."
Dorian shook his head. "All of my blood is in my lap, not my brain. I still don't understand."
Another laugh, and he wondered what he could do to make her this happy all the time.
"Those mythology volumes brought a fine price. You'll eventually have your share, but it has to go through my bookkeeping process first."
"The delivery for the shop—right. Excellent… Why was it in your cleavage?"
Plucking the coins and notes into a tidy pile, she wrapped the embroidered handkerchief around it into a bundle and tied it closed. "Only a fool travels with this much money on their person and puts it in a purse. Jingling coins paint a target on my back for thieves." Tossing the lump toward the table, it landed with a heavy clang. "There. Where were we?"
Thinking of her on the road alone and vulnerable to thieves made him scowl. Caro sighed and pushed the heavy curtain of her hair over her shoulder. "I can see the lecture forming, and I won't hear it. As I said before, we can't all travel with outriders and armed footmen. People have to carry about their business, regardless of risk—even when those people are women. I had a task and I did it while ensuring my safety to the best of my ability. I won't tolerate your entitled outrage when I'm only guilty of existing as a woman within the real world instead of the castle on a hill you inhabit."
The ache between his brows softened as Dorian rested his forehead on her breastbone. Her orange-blossom scent was heavier here, mingled with the smell of rain and lingering body heat. "I suppose that puts me in my place. Instead of a lecture, I'll say I'm grateful you're allowing me to escort you home. Thank you."
Caro stroked his hair, and tension in his neck melted away. "Is the mood broken? I can dress again, and then we can eat if you wish," she said.
He reared back and tugged her shift over her head in response. As soon as the linen floated to the floor, Caro grinned. "I like that answer."
But his pulse pounding in his ears made her voice sound like it came from under water. "Bloody fecking hell, how are you more beautiful than I imagined? I can't believe I finally get to touch you." And he did. Every curve and dip. The cluster of three freckles beside her right nipple. He gently grazed those hard nubs with his palm, and she shivered. When she squirmed impatiently on his lap, pressing her heat against his breeches, Dorian stilled her with a hand on her hip. "I want to fall on you like an animal, but I only get to see you for the first time once."
The words calmed her movements, and her eyes softened as she watched his hands. "No one has ever looked at me like you are now."
Dorian shook his head. "Then they were fools. But thank God they were, because their failings mean you're here now." And she was his. "I've lusted after you since the first moment I laid eyes on you."
"You mean when you finally learned my name a few weeks ago?"
He sent her a mock glare, then raked his teeth over one nipple until she gasped. "It's been almost two years I've wanted you, you maddening woman. Since the first time you spoke, bickering at me, your voice has haunted me."
"My voice?" Her obvious confusion nearly made him laugh.
"It's what caught my attention first. Then I saw you and couldn't look away. You were so strong and prickly. Fearless, even though you were clearly having a difficult time."
Her smile was sweet and a little sad. "I was scared and exhausted."
"I couldn't tell." As they spoke, he couldn't stop caressing the length of her back. The dip of her waist. The extravagant flare of her hips. God, she was soft. "Something inside me woke up that day. I was curious about you but also protective. Possessive in a way I've never felt before. I fantasized about holding these curves again and exploring them properly. Marking you as mine the same way you'd inadvertently claimed me."
Caro reached her fingers between them and unbuttoned the bulging placket of his breeches. "Shall we explore, then?" She grazed her teeth along his stubbled jaw, and he lost his breath. "Shall I claim you as mine?"
Dorian thrust his hips, pressing his cock firmer into her palm. "Yes. God, yes. Make me yours."
She sank her teeth into his earlobe, then sucked the skin to ease the sting. He hoped it left a mark. "Last chance to turn back." As she said the words, she shifted to run the length of him along her drenched core.
Dorian gulped for air. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say? Who exactly is doing the seducing here?" The laughter in his voice transformed into a moan when she placed another stinging bite along his neck, then soothed the spot with her tongue. One more pink spot, one more mark. Fuck, he wanted more. More of her taking what she wanted, leaving evidence of her conquering on his body that would linger in the mirror. "More," he demanded and barely recognized his raspy voice.
Her mouth dropped to the rounded muscle of his shoulder, and a fierce satisfaction shot through him when she left a faint purplish ghost of her mouth. Tightening his grip on her hips, he thrust toward her heat. "Please, Caro. Let me in. I need you." In the coach, she'd said he would beg before morning, and he'd barely made it half an hour.
Their lips met, seeking, in a give-and-take of control and desire, as Caro finally sank onto his cock.
"It's been so long for me I don't know if I'll last," he grunted. "I promise I'll make it good for you, no matter what." And then he stopped speaking altogether, because her nipple was in his mouth, and their language became that of gasps, the sound of flesh meeting flesh, urging one another toward a finish line she crossed mere seconds before him.
Moments passed with the two of them wrapped together in silence except for the rain outside and the muffled sounds of the bustling inn on the other side of the door. He stroked a lazy line up her spine while the other hand grasped her waist, holding her to him. Neither seemed in a great hurry to separate.
Mother Nature didn't appear inclined to settle anytime soon, but the aftermath of their storm was a thing of beauty. Somehow, the quiet of their breaths settling into cadence together, was as intimate as having his body inside hers.
He should say something. Something romantic to make Caro understand this had been more than he'd expected. Various points on his body ached in the hard chair. His flesh would show marks left by her mouth and the short, curved nails she'd dug into his shoulders as she'd ridden him like a woman possessed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so claimed. So content. Every mark and bruise were badges of honor. And as they faded, Dorian somehow knew with certainty he'd need her to replace them.
He'd beg if need be.
Instead of using words, he smoothed a hand over her wild, dark waves, silently encouraging her to remain as she was. An undeniable feeling of rightness settled in him as he held her like this, with her cheek propped against his shoulder and her breath fanning his neck. Unbidden, a whisky-soaked memory from a few nights ago when he had spoken to either a hallucination or Juliet's ghost poked at the bubble of contentment. He'd confessed to Jules he was scared.
Now there was even more reason to fear. If he was betrayed by someone he'd shared a moment like this with, it would be gutting. Drawing in a deep breath, he was proud of how much space his lungs allowed to fill with air, despite the thoughts racketing in his mind.
He needed to find Sherman. Because whatever else that man was guilty of, he also might know what Dorian had done wrong last time. And right now, with Caro in his arms, sated and content, Dorian suspected he'd do anything to keep her happy. Keep her with him.