Chapter 22

The next morning, their clothes clean and dry after the previous night's adventures, Ford and Grace set out toward Dover. Oddly, the empty inn where they'd sought refuge had no spare horses, leaving them no choice but to rely on their lone mount.

They had ridden on a single horse all the way through London. And although the sturdy animal was able to bear their weight, it was uncomfortable to say the least.

In stark contrast to their recent ordeals, the weather seemed to smile upon their journey. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the heavy clouds, creating dappled patterns on the road ahead. A gentle breeze at their backs seemed to urge them forward.

Grace sat between his thighs like the day before, her head nestled beneath his neck. Ford liked the fact that he could smell her scent mixed in with the fresh grass and earth. These were his favorite three scents.

It almost didn't feel like they were fleeing for their lives. It was a wonderful journey. A road trip.

They hadn't conversed since leaving the inn, the clickity-clack of the horse's hooves against the ground and the howl of the wind restricting any meaningful conversation they might have had. But he did hear Grace humming something under her breath, her voice carried over to him by the wind.

They had changed horses a few times during the day, trying to finish their journey before sunset. And Ford thought they were right on track to do just that.

As hunger began to gnaw at his stomach, Ford steered the horse away from the main road, guiding them towards the spring. Grace stretched in her seat as the horse slowed its pace. "Where are we?"

Ford glanced at the sky. "Still a good few hours from Dover." He helped Grace down and jumped off the horse himself. "We'll need to change the horse soon, hopefully, for the last time. But I wanted to let it rest for a bit and have some food for now. I think it would be wise for us to do the same."

Grace nodded and collected a little pouch from the back of the saddle, where the sandwiches and apples they'd bought from the inn were nestled.

Ford's muscles ached and groaned. He hadn't spent that much time atop a horse in a while. And if yesterday his body hadn't felt the aches until they'd reached the inn, today he had woken up with pain in his joints and muscles.

Ford snatched one sandwich, popped it into his mouth and went to tend to the horse.

"How much time do we have to rest?" Grace called.

"A few minutes to stretch our legs and fill our bellies."

Grace nodded. After the horse drank its fill, Ford led it to graze a few feet away. He looked back only to see Grace wade into the stream.

Ford frowned. What was she doing?

Turned out… Nothing.

She alternated between washing her feet in the cold water and hopping from stone to stone. Ford found himself unable to look away, a bemused grin spreading across his face. He couldn't fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to the icy water, but Grace's joy was infectious.

As he watched her, leaning against a tree, Ford marveled at the contradiction Grace embodied. Here was a woman who had seen the darkest sides of humanity, who had built a facade of stoicism and grim determination to survive in a harsh world. Yet underneath it all, she retained a childlike wonder, still capable of finding delight in life's simplest pleasures. Given all she'd endured, how she had managed to keep that spark alive was a mystery to Ford—one he found himself increasingly drawn to solve.

Ford felt an odd sort of pride knowing she felt secure and comfortable enough to act like this around him—showing him all her quirks, divulging all her thoughts and opinions. This was not the Grace he'd known.

After finding out that she and Triss were the same person, he'd racked his brain trying to figure out which woman she truly was, and which one was a mask. And the more time he'd spent with her, with or without a disguise, the more he realized that she was both. She had never been playing a part. She was just suppressing one part of her while showing the other.

Now that she'd revealed the truth about herself, she happily showed him both.

And that woman… she was breathtaking.

After a few minutes of dancing in the stream, Grace dashed toward him, her boots in her hand, her teeth chattering from the cold.

Ford laughed at her quick retreat. He helped her slip her feet back into her boots, then wrapped his coat snugly around her shivering form.

With gentle hands, he assisted Grace back onto their patient horse. Once mounted, Ford enveloped her in his arms, settling her onto his lap, her head beneath his chin, her cheek pressing into his chest. Using his body heat and friction to warm her, he rubbed her arms and back vigorously, willing the color to return to her pale cheeks.

"T-t-the water w-w-was s-so fresh…" she stuttered.

Ford chuckled and embraced her tighter. "Was it worth it?"

"Ab-b-b-sol-l-lutly."

She looped her arms around his neck and then—

"Ow!" he cried, his voice higher pitched than he'd ever heard it as she dipped her icy hands inside the collar of his shirt. She laughed but withdrew her hands instantly.

"Lord, you're freezing."

She shrugged or possibly shuddered. "I will warm up soon."

"Hm…" Ford pursed his lips. "I enjoyed being warmed by you the other night. Perhaps I should repay the favor."

She didn't answer; she just looked up at him, gazed into his eyes. He dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. She didn't protest, but she didn't respond either.

He kissed her again. This time, his tongue darted out to lick at the corner of her lips until she opened her mouth. He slipped his tongue inside, devouring her mouth. She let out a little whimper, and he pulled away.

"Do you want me to continue? Because you can say no and I will stop."

"Do you want to continue?" she whispered.

"I think my actions speak for themselves."

"Then I hope my actions will do the same." Throwing her hands over his neck, she pushed up, trying to turn to face him fully. He picked her up by the waist as she struggled with her skirts until she successfully managed to straddle him.

Their hands ran over each other's clothing, desperate to find any skin within. The rough fabric of Ford's shirt rubbed against his heated flesh, adding to the intensity of his desire. Grace fidgeted in his lap, likely facing similar sensual torment. He slid one hand around her neck, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his fingertips. His other hand traced a teasing path up her leg, sliding under her skirt and playing with the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Ford covered her mouth with his, and Grace met his desperate kiss with equal fervor, her tongue dancing with his, her soft moans echoing their overwhelming desire for each other. Her hips moved in a restless rhythm, grinding against his thigh, seeking more pleasure.

The horse beneath them began to move slowly along the path, adding a gentle rocking motion that only heightened their intense passion.

Grace bit down on Ford's lip and tugged at it playfully before locking eyes with him and smiling mischievously.

He mirrored her smile before dipping his head to nip at her earlobe, eliciting a soft exhale mixed with a needy moan from her lips. "Touch me," she begged, her hands roaming over his shoulders and neck before tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses down her jawline and back up.

Ford's hand explored the silky skin between her thighs before pressing firmly against her wet center. The gentle movement of the horse added just enough friction between his palm and her sensitive nub, causing Grace to rock her hips in wild abandon.

"That's it, my love," he whispered against her lips, kissing her deeply. Their gasps and moans intermingled with the saddle's creaking and the horse's rhythmic movements, creating a symphony of pleasure in the air.

As Grace's movements became more urgent, she gasped and closed her eyes tightly, clinging to Ford as waves of pleasure washed over her body. The sweet scent of her desire mixed with sweat permeated the air, sending Ford's body into a frenzy.

With quick movements, Ford freed himself from his breeches, his straining length springing to life, begging for her touch. "Grip my shoulders," he commanded, and she complied, digging her fingers into his coat as he lifted her and impaled her onto him.

She took him in effortlessly, her body gripping him tightly as she settled on top of him. Ford's mind went blank as the overwhelming pleasure consumed him.

Their eyes locked in a fiery gaze as Grace moved slowly, each little twitch sending hot flashes all over Ford's body.

"I want you," she whispered desperately. "I want to feel it again."

Ford tried to smile, but the pleasure was too intense. "You'll have to work for it, love," he whispered huskily. "You'll have to ride me. Hard."

She nodded and followed his instructions, moving her hips in a steady rhythm, gripping him tightly, and pushing against his shoulders to slide up and down his length.

"Yes, just like that," Ford moaned in pure bliss. "Drench me in your juices."

As another moan escaped her lips, Ford silenced her with a deep kiss, savoring every sound she made. He held onto her hips firmly, guiding her movements as they both neared their climax.

Grace rode him with determination and utter abandon, her tight grip driving him wild with pleasure.

"You feel so fucking good," he growled against her lips. She shuddered with the force of her release and threw her head back, lost in the feeling of ecstasy. Her body pulsed, teasing him, drawing his own orgasm from him. For a moment, Ford lost all control. He let out a deep, guttural sound as his grip tightened on her hips, reaching his release with the ferocity of a storm.

He held onto her tightly as their bodies pulsed with intense pleasure, their breaths heavy and labored as they basked in the aftermath of their passionate encounter.

It was only then that it dawned on him.

He'd finished inside her.

Fuck.

* * *

Grace opened her eyes, all the pleasure gone at the realization that he'd finished inside her. Ford's eyes opened, too, his hold on her hips tightening.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Indeed." Grace pushed against his shoulders, trying to get off him.

"Don't wriggle," he ground out, as he lifted her off his cock. She struggled for a few moments as he helped her off the horse. She ripped off the piece of clothing from the back of the saddle and went to clean herself up by the stream.

She needed to leave him or she'd erupt in anger.

What in the world had happened there? She had never been so careless. She should never have allowed him inside her without the armor or some other sort of protection.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Both of them.

Couldn't he have controlled himself? He had pulled out easily enough the night before. If he had warned her he was ready to finish, she would have helped him lift her off his cock.

Gah!

Grace cleaned herself between her legs and then took the time to calm down.

It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's fault, but she would be the one to bear the consequences if, God forbid, there were any consequences.

She was four and thirty. Women her age simply didn't bear their first child. She wasn't certain it was even possible.

Certainly, there were women giving birth up to their fortieth year, but their first children were born years earlier.

Why weren't women bearing children at her age? Was it dangerous? More importantly, did she even want a child?

Grace grimaced. She had never thought she wanted to bring a child into this world. She'd seen too much ugliness. And having a harlot for a mother? That child would be doomed before it was born. She should have been more careful, and so should he.

The sounds of footsteps in her direction alerted her to Ford's approach before she heard him say, "Are you all right?"

Yes, just a little out of sorts, she prepared to say in her mind, but what came out was completely different. She turned on him, her hair whipping at her face in her fury. "What do you think?"

He flinched. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're not."

"We've talked about this! I told you that if we were to be together this way, you would have to pull out. You promised you would!"

"I know," he said through gritted teeth. "And I wanted to; I was just too lost in passion. I am sorry. I will bear any consequences."

She snorted. "Will you carry the child in your belly and give birth to it?"

His face twitched. "No. But I am willing to marry you."

Grace blinked, unable to respond in complete shock, millions of thoughts whirling in her mind. What a fabulous proposal, was her first thought. What a noble sacrifice, the second. The rest were so tangled she couldn't quite make them all out. "You are willing to make a great sacrifice and marry a harlot?" she managed to push past her dry lips.

He turned away. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, have you thought, in all your benevolence, that perhaps I don't want to marry you?"

He threaded his fingers through his hair. "If this encounter leads to a child, I don't see that we have a choice."

She raised a brow. "How is that?"

"I don't want my child to be born a bastard, do you?"

She squared her shoulders. "I am a bastard."

He reared back for a moment. "I was under the assumption you were privileged."

"In a way, I was." She shrugged. "Up to a point."

"And beyond that point? Come, now, Grace. You know a bastard life doesn't lead anywhere good. I am offering the best course of action if the child is in question."

Grace tossed her head back in defiance. "I will not marry you. I will never marry anyone. I have too much to lose."

He reared back. "You have a lot to lose? Like marrying a harlot will not plummet my reputation to the depths of hell?"

Grace filched but tried to keep her expressions impassive. She knew how he felt about her, but hearing it still cut deep. "I am not the one saying you have to marry me. I have a successful business and plenty of financial assets. If I marry anyone, that person gets all of it, including me. I am not going to be a possession."

"Then you should have been more careful," he said.

Grace reared back. "Oh, so it's my fault?"

"I am not saying that. But if you do not want to be attached to me—"

"Attached? If I marry you, I cease to exist. I shall be your property."

"That's not what I want!"

"What do you want then?"

He threw up his hands. "I am offering a solution to a predicament which might not even come to pass. I wanted you—I will admit to that—and I still do. I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I want you in my bed. Constantly. But I don't want your possessions. I do not care about your brothel, in fact, I'd rather distance myself from it as much as I can. Our mutual passion, however, might lead to a child if we are not careful, and we were not careful. If we continue our liaison, then we need to talk about the possible solutions in case this happens again and you indeed become with child."

Grace turned away, heat covering her chest and her neck and traveling up her face. She didn't understand her feelings. She didn't want a child. She didn't want to be anyone's property, much less Ford's. He was a thief-taker. He was ashamed because he desired a harlot. Having a child with him, being tied to him forever, could turn out to be a nightmare. If she were to marry him, her brothel would legally belong to him. He could do whatever he wanted with it. He could sell it or close it without her knowing. And even though he would not do anything to hurt her now, who was to say he wouldn't change his mind?

"Then we need to be doubly careful next time," she said evenly.

"Good. I am glad you're not discounting that there will be the next time."

She huffed a breath.

There was a pause, then the sound of shuffling feet. For a moment, she thought he'd left only for him to appear by her side.

He stepped toward her, his hand outstretched. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have implied that marrying you would ruin me."

She watched his hand wearily. "It's the truth."

He didn't deny it. "And what happened earlier… It's my fault. You trusted me. I should have been more careful."

Grace placed her hand in his. "Me too. The truth is…" She paused in revealing the entire truth about her. Did she trust him enough?

He squeezed her fingers. "The truth is?"

She let out a deep breath. "I haven't…" She closed her eyes and released a deep breath. "I haven't been with a man in a long time."

His eyes widened in surprise. "But you're… you—"

"I am a harlot?" She let out a strangled laugh. "I understand that it was easier for you to justify bedding me because of who I am."

He frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, if I were a woman of character, a pastor's daughter, a virgin, you wouldn't have been so eager in your pursuit of me."

"Of course," he said, and she snatched her hand back. "I don't see why that would upset you. You're obviously not a virgin. You do not expect to marry the man who beds you. And you must enjoy the activity. We've discussed this already."

"What if I said that I do not enjoy it?"

His frown deepened. "Based on our two encounters, I'd say you are a liar."

She bit her lip. He wasn't wrong. "What I mean is, I do not enjoy doing this with any stranger. And when I was a harlot out on the streets…" She paused. "Let's say that men weren't that gentle. I did not find pleasure in their arms."

He swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Finally, he asked, "Ever?"

She chewed her lip. "I was forced to do it. I was a child… I did have lovers after that and a couple of them were… better. But when I learned from other harlots that it should have been pleasurable, I started researching everything I could about intimate relations and I… well, I found that I am far better at satisfying myself."

He chuckled. "You are pretty good at satisfying me as well."

"What I meant to say with all of this is that I got lost in passion as much as you did. Because I haven't felt this bliss in a long time. I am not quite used to controlling myself in the throes of passion."

Ford nodded and took a step toward her. His voice was soft when he said, "Me too."

She raised her eyes to his, startled. She thought it was surprising a harlot hadn't experienced pleasure in a while, but a man… In her experience, while working in the brothel, they were quite easy to please.

"How come?"

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged. "I was busy. And I was…" He paused and let out a hoarse laugh. "I was actually looking to marry. And that meant I had to cut loose all my previous associations."

"Oh." Grace looked away. Warm fingers pressed under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze with infinite gentleness.

"I am still looking to marry, you know."

Grace swallowed and nodded. "Let's hope it won't be me," she jested, but the look in his eyes hardened, as his gaze searched her face.

He wasn't amused by her jest. Wasn't he the one thinking that he'd rather marry anyone else than a harlot? Or was he offended that she didn't want to marry him?

She was certain his dream wife wasn't a brothel owner. But she didn't dare ask.

"We should go," he said hoarsely, then looked up at the sky. "Dover should not be too far ahead. We might even make it before sundown."

Grace nodded and stepped away before walking toward the horse, giving him a wide berth. She didn't want to touch him after their conversation. Not that it mattered; they had to share a horse again. The same horse they had just made love on.

She looked at the poor animal. She wasn't certain she'd ever think of riding a horse without remembering this day.