Chapter Nine

F enella sat squeezed next to Anthony in his sporty carriage. Night was falling, and they were still more than an hour from London.

She thought the journey down had been awkward. She'd had no idea. Now the big, warm body wasn't a stranger's—far from it, she knew so many intimate things about him, from the taste of his kiss to the scent of his skin—and she wished herself a million miles away.

“Damn it, woman, stop wriggling,” he growled. “It's like being tied in a sack with a dozen eels.”

“You didn't have to drive me,” she pointed out, folding gloved hands in her lap to hide their shaming tendency to tremble.

“Aye, I do. If you're so all-fired keen to get back, I'll see you arrive safely.”

He sounded grumpy. So did she. “We've risked enough scandal.”

In the fading light, she saw his lips turn down in derision. “Then the damage is done. You might as well have stayed.”

“You know I couldn't.”

“I know no such thing. Brand would like it.”

Brand would indeed like it. So, unfortunately, would she. The regrettable truth was that she'd fled the Beeches because she was afraid, not because she guarded her reputation.

“Brand got a fair share of what he wanted anyway, considering how much trouble he and Carey caused,” she said grimly.

She'd given in to her son's pleading and left him behind. She couldn't send him back to school, whatever accusations of coddling that invited from her monumental companion.

Last night she'd gone to her lonely bed, determined to leave at the earliest possible moment. Yet somehow the morning had dwindled away in spending time with the boys and trying not to dwell on last night's kisses.

It had been a wrench to leave her son. It always was. Even now when they might find a way to live under the same roof. Perhaps this escapade would end happily for Brand at least. Except somewhere in the last twenty-four hours, the idea of a quiet, rural hideaway for Brand and her had lost its charm.

Curse Anthony Townsend and his kisses.

“You've forgiven them,” he said. “You forgave them the minute you saw they were safe.”

“So did you,” she said, stung at the implied criticism.

A grunt of self-derisive amusement escaped. “I waited at least another five minutes.”

Despite weariness and bad temper, she laughed. Odd how Anthony could do that.

She had no trouble diagnosing the root of his crankiness. She suffered the same malady. A bad case of sexual frustration. She'd lain awake all night, restless and longing for more kisses.

For more than kisses.

“You think they'll be all right?”

“I'm only away overnight, and the place is packed with servants—including Penny, who won't let them get away with any mischief, however ill she is. And they both know they've escaped lightly after their escapades. They're on their best behavior” He drew the horses to a halt under a spreading oak and faced her with a serious expression.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “Why have we stopped? Is something wrong?”

“I hope not.” A wry smile quirked his lips. “I'd like to talk to you.”

She frowned. “The boys.”

He shook his dark head. “No. Not this time.”He subjected her to a searching look. “I have a proposition.”

Oh, dear Lord. She knew exactly what was coming. Forbidden excitement shivered through her. “Mr. Townsend…”

For once he didn't object to the formal address. Instead he went on in a measured, reasonable voice, as if what he suggested wasn't purest madness. “You mention scandal, but nobody except the staff at the Beeches know where we've been these last days. Nobody at all knows where we are now. We're free in a way we won't be free once we resume our daily lives.”

“Freedom doesn't mean license must rule.” She twined her hands together as an army of elephants started capering in her stomach.

This time he smiled properly, and the elephants thudded down into a heap, before jumping up to start prancing again. That smile was a deadly weapon.

“Perhaps not, but it means if a virtuous lady felt the urge to…stray, she could do so without fearing gossip.”

All the way from Hampshire, she'd cursed the carriage's close confines. Now it seemed as narrow as a child's pencil box. She gulped air into her lungs and wondered why she didn't slap this presumptuous cad's face and tell him to drive on. Or push him out onto the dusty grass verge and leave him to walk off his lust while she fled back to Mayfair and sanity. After all, she'd itched to take the reins ever since she'd first stepped into this stylish rig.

“You make too much of a moment's foolishness.”

He surveyed her from under the curling brim of his stylish beaver hat. “Do I?”

Reluctantly she met that probing dark brown gaze, and saw that he already guessed most of her secrets. The most mortifying being that she wasn't virtuous at all, but starved for a man.

Not just any man. This one.

So instead of issuing a ringing denial, she responded in a quavering voice unworthy of a worldly woman past thirty. “I've…I've never done this before.”

The tenderness that always proved so fatal to her resolve softened his eyes. “I know you haven't. I also know I've got a deuce of a cheek asking. You only met me two days ago, and it's clear you won't give yourself lightly”

No, she wouldn't. She'd shared her body with one man. Losing him had nearly destroyed her.

Anthony's offer belonged to a completely different world from her youthful adoration for Henry. But she had a sinking feeling that if she accepted this lunatic proposal, she wouldn't give herself lightly this time either. “You're making my arguments for me”

“Nor do I take this lightly. I wanted you the moment I saw you. That attraction has grown every moment since.”

“Surely not.” She strove to read his expression, but those rugged features didn't give much away. “You were furiously angry when we met.”

“Angry, aye, but also attracted. It made for an uncomfortable mix, believe me. Now I find myself quite…desperate.”

Still she examined that overtly masculine face. “You don't look desperate.”

“I'm trying not to terrify you.”

A wicked thrill rippled through her. The thought of testing this remarkable man's control was undeniably intriguing.

The horses snorted and stamped their feet, impatient at the delay. Sitting so close, she felt Anthony's vibrating tension. His face might be all stern angles, but his body hinted that he hung on her answer like a man dangling over a cliff.

She'd learned that with Anthony Townsend, you noted his actions, not his words.

What did they tell her? He loved his nephew, and had shown the two boys unexpected and poignant kindness. He was willing to admit his mistakes and take the consequences—in her experience, a rare and precious quality in the male animal. He possessed powerful appetites, but equally powerful control. Last night, he'd seen her resistance was precarious. But he'd let her retire unscathed. Almost.

Even now, he didn't touch her, to avoid influencing her decision.

So, a fair man. A man of principle. A man who could give her pleasure.

She'd always love Henry. She couldn't imagine sharing that closeness with anyone else. But that wasn't what Anthony offered.

He invited her to find fleeting surcease from loneliness, a sensual exploration, a brief warmth before she returned to the cold. That warmth lured most of all. To lie in a man's arms and feel her blood rise in passion, to accept physical comfort that asked for nothing more.

Ah, that was tempting.

She licked lips dry as the Sahara and quivered with uncertainty. And desire.

Heat flared in his eyes as they focused on her mouth. Yes, he wanted her. She couldn't doubt it. But did that mean she could trust him?

“What exactly is your proposition?” she asked huskily.

One of those large, expressive hands gestured to the road ahead. “In a couple of miles, we'll reach Croydon. I've taken a room at the Rainbow and Angel. We can spend the night. If not, I'll stay, and you can proceed alone to Mayfair in a closed carriage I've arranged for your use. You'll arrive home without anyone knowing you've been in my company since you left.”

He'd devoted time, thought and money to her seduction. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered. “So I have to decide now?”

He shook his head. “No. The carriage remains at your disposal all night. You don't have to do anything you don't want to.”

He knew enough about her to realize that if he tried to corner her, she'd run. She began to see how he'd parlayed a small-scale shipping line into a global concern. He knew what he wanted. More importantly, he knew what other people wanted.

“It would be wrong to agree.” She meant to sound resolute, but wanton longing roughened her words.

He shifted and stared hard at her. “Why?”

“You know why. I'm a respectable widow, and mother to a son who should be the reason for all I do”

Displeasure darkened his expression. “Hell, Fenella, it's unfair to Brand to make him the sole purpose of your existence. In the long run, he won't thank you for it. We share a strong attraction. Neither of us owes allegiance to anyone else. We have a chance to see what it could be like between us. A chance away from obligations and prying eyes.” He paused. “After last night, aren't you curious?”

She prayed for guidance, but all she saw was Anthony's gaze burning into hers. Despite Henry and Brand and her good name, she so wanted to say yes.

“Fenella?” Her name emerged as a ragged gasp, proving his calm was all on the surface.

“I…”

A mail coach thundered by, and she angled away from the flying dust and the passengers' eyes. The world rudely intruded on the strange interlude of the last days.

Once the vehicle was out of earshot, she turned to watch Anthony soothe the horses, restive after the clattering interruption. She touched his brawny arm.

“Take me to the Rainbow and Angel, Anthony.”