“They did have a good head start,” James told her, doing his best to ignore the alluring sway of her hips. He tightened his grip on the bags he carried. “They’re also on horseback, which makes them faster, but if we set out early tomorrow we might be able to gain on them. Michael isn’t a morning person. He’s always enjoyed sleeping in.”
“So has Cynthia.”
“There’s our solution then. If we rise at five we’ll be ready to set out as soon as it starts getting light. Or is that too early for you?”
“I can be up by then,” she assured him.
They’d reached their rooms and just like the previous evening, James carried Mrs. Lawson’s bag into her chamber and set it on a chair. Whether because of her close proximity to him in this confined space or because their kiss was still fresh in his mind, James’s gaze instinctively moved to the bed.
Disturbed by the wicked intentions she stirred in him, he quickly retreated to the door. “I’ll knock when I’m ready to go back down. In ten to fifteen minutes?”
“All right.”
James glanced at her and noted she avoided looking directly at him. Clearly she wished to ignore the issue that hung between them like a thundercloud waiting to burst. He’d never been a coward, though, and he wasn’t about to start being one now, so he cleared his throat. “About earlier. I—”
“Perhaps we should chalk it up to a momentary lapse in judgment on both our parts?”
He blinked. So she meant to go on as before, as if the spectacular kiss they’d shared had never happened. Well, he didn’t suppose he could blame her, considering their odd relationship. Still, her rejection stung. More than he ever would have expected.
Irritated, James gave a curt nod. “If that’s what you wish.”
She started as if he’d just pushed her. Wide blue eyes stared back at him in dismay, until she managed to get a grip on whatever emotions she warred with. She crossed her arms. “It is.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
James stared at her for a moment more before turning on his heels and walking away. A bit of cold water to his face would soothe the burning sensation he felt at the back of his neck. Damn Mrs. Lawson for making him want her and damn him for goading her into kissing him. He’d never be able to rid his mind of how good she felt in his arms or how sweet she tasted, how perfect she was because of the innocence she had revealed. And God help him if he didn’t want more. The worst part was when it came to her, he feared he’d always want more.
But she was right to deny them more intimacy. It wasn’t as if they stood a chance in hell of sharing a future. Even the friendship they’d managed to forge through conversation and shared experiences these past two days would come to an end once their journey was over. It didn’t really matter if she wasn’t the heartless adulteress her husband had made her out. The world believed her to be this person, which pretty much meant that was who she was from now on. Guilty or not.
As such, James could not permit himself to get closer to her, not just for Michael’s sake but for his own. At best, Mrs. Lawson would cause tongues to wag. At worst, she’d destroy his career. For who would want to hire a barrister willing to associate with someone of such ill repute?
“Damn!”
He freshened up with jerky movements and went to collect her. She accepted the arm he offered and together they made their way down to the dining room without saying a word. It was awkward and awful. James hated every second. He wanted things to go back to how they’d been before they’d kissed, but to do so he’d have to re-write the past. Impossible.
Thankfully a maid soon arrived to take their order, providing them with a brief reprieve from what could only be described as the most uncomfortable situation he’d ever had to endure.
“The lamb sounds good to me,” he said.
“I’ll have the pork,” Mrs. Lawson said.
James glanced at her. “Beer or wine? We could share a jug of red, if you like?”
When she gave a swift nod he put in the order. The maid departed and they were once again left with little to say. James wracked his brain. It hadn’t been this difficult before. He just had to think of a subject, that was all.
“My parents had a clock almost identical to the one right over there,” she suddenly murmured with a sort of breathy sentimentality that would suggest her thoughts had strayed to the past. “It stood in our parlor.” A soft chuckle accompanied a winsome smile. “My father inherited it from his parents.”
James turned in the direction she was looking and spotted the piece she referred to. It was a beautifully crafted longcase clock. At a glance, it appeared to be made from oak and walnut.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Mmm. I’m not sure how many functions that one has. I’d need to inspect it more closely. But ours could do a lot more than tell the time.” Her sparkling eyes met his and James’s heart leapt. “Besides indicating the hours and minutes, it showed the date, the cycle of the moon, as well as the times of high tide at London Bridge. It was ingenious. I used to study it for hours, watching the hands and dials turn and click into place.”
James grinned, prompting her to sharpen her gaze. “What?”
The maid returned just then with their wine. “The food will be along shortly,” she said.
As soon as she’d walked away, James filled Mrs. Lawson’s glass and then his own. “I just had this image of you as a little girl in short skirts and a pinafore, with long plaits on either side of your head, marveling over a clock.”
She pursed her lips. “Just so you know, I rarely wore plaits. My hair was almost always down until I reached the age of sixteen and Mama insisted I start to pin it.”
James’s stomach clenched in response to a new and far more provocative image – of her hair spilling down her naked back, or better yet, strewn across his pillow. He shifted in his seat and desperately reached for his wine. “To wonderful memories.”
With a grateful sort of smile that caused heat to swirl in the pit of his stomach, she raised her glass as well and drank. Their food arrived and they both dug in. Somehow, with the mention of the clock, the awkwardness from before had been replaced by conviviality. James no longer felt the need to fill the silence between them with inane conversation. He was comfortable simply sharing a meal at the same table as her.
A few sips of wine and bites of food later, he did decide to say something though. Whether unwise or not, he feared he’d never forgive himself if he weren’t completely honest with her. “You should know that I don’t regret kissing you.” He waited for her to meet his gaze before admitting, “It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.”
Her lips parted. Dismay filled her eyes. “You ended it though.”
“Only because I worried where it might lead.”
She shook her head as if with incomprehension. “Considering what you know of me, I confess I’m surprised. Most men in your position would have taken advantage, and while I must admit a part of me wishes you’d take more liberties, I appreciate your restraint and consideration.”
It was James’s turn to gape at her. She wished he’d take more liberties? By God he was a saint for not dragging her upstairs this second and showing her just how many liberties he’d like to take. He closed his eyes briefly and shook off his lustful notions before he dared look at her again.