Ines frowned. She hadn’t thought of this, but of course the man would need to be paid. What an idiot she was! And she had no money. She had not expected to travel any further than a street over from Draven’s house in London. “Give me a moment,” she said, turning to go back into the parlor.
Mrs. Brown was fussing with the pillow behind Murray, and he waved her off when Ines returned. “I hope ye were nae serious aboot traveling tae Scotland, lass.”
“Never mind about that now,” she said. “I need coin to pay the surgeon. He has no faith if he sends the bill to Mr. Pope, it will ever be paid.”
“Typical,” Murray said. “First the man shoots me then he makes me pay for the privilege of staying alive.” He gestured to his coat, which was in a heap on the floor, having been cut off his a few hours earlier. “If ye dinnae cut it tae shreds, my blunt is in the pocket.”
She found the purse full of coins as well as a wallet with notes. She took them both out to the surgeon and paid him. When she was finished, she actually felt quite proud of herself. She had handled all of this business herself. And Draven thought she was not ready to live on her own above a shop. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She had made a mistake regarding Mr. Murray, that was true, but she was doing her best to make it right. She would see him safely home to Scotland. She owed him that much.
And she would not think too much about how she would much rather be in Scotland, facing the ire of Murray’s mother, than back in London and stuffed into one of Mr. Podmore’s carriages. She was not yet ready for this adventure to end. And she could not possibly go back to London after having spent two days and two nights with Duncan Murray and still not have been kissed. If anyone found out—and this was London, so of course everyone would find out—Draven would have a difficult time convincing any of the stuffy middle class merchants to marry her.
And that thought made Ines smile. Podmore would be absolutely appalled at the idea of her having run away with a disreputable Scot. They would all shun her, which meant she might finally get the freedom she’d been hoping for.
And if she had a little fun on that road to ruination then all the better.
She marched back into the parlor and found Murray alone. He’d managed to send Mrs. Brown away, and now he eyed her suspiciously as she set his money on the table near the couch. “Ye look pleased with yerself.”
She nodded. “I have never paid anyone before. Catarina always handled the finances for the shop. I feel happy.” She moved a chair to face him and sat. “And since I am responsible for what happened, I will reimburse you the fee for the surgeon.”
Murray held up his hand.
“Do not refuse. I have money. Our lace sells well, and I receive a tidy sum every week. Benedict never lets me spend any of it.”
“He wants tae take care of ye.”
“Not every woman wants to be taken care of, senhor. Some of us want a taste of adventure.”
Murray’s look of suspicion turned wary. “Is that why yer insisting on coming tae Scotland with me?”
“I would be lying if I said that was not part of the reason.”
He leaned back. “I appreciate yer need for adventure and yer wanting tae keep me alive, lass. But I’d rather nae be kent as the man who ruined yer reputation.”
“Oh, you need not worry about that.”
His brow lifted. He looked so handsome when he did that. “Because yer a shopkeeper and dinnae have tae worry aboot reputations?”
“Because I want you to ruin my reputation, senhor.”
He shook his head. “I think more than my arm was wounded. I’m nae hearing ye right, lass.”
“You heard me.” She slid off the chair and moved to sit beside him on the couch.
“I dinnae think that is a good idea.”
“You do not know what it is like to have the most uninteresting men in the world knocking on your door and wanting to walk with you in the park or take you for ices. Then all they can speak of is carriage wheels or shoe patterns. I want to stab my eye out, senhor.”
“I have some idea what ye mean. I just spent weeks in London looking for a bride. I never kent there were so many ways tae discuss the weather. But I think ye should go back tae yer chair.”
“I want to check your forehead and make certain you have no fever.” She reached out and he feinted to the right.
“I feel bonny. Nae need tae touch me.”
She pressed her hand to his forehead anyway. “I promised Mr. Langford I would check for fever every hour.”
He winced, as though her hand burned him. But she didn’t remove it. Their eyes met. “As ye see, lass. Nae fever.”
She nodded and leaned over him.
“Now what are ye aboot?”
She ran a hand down his shoulder, pausing at the white bandage. “Making certain the dressing does not need changing.”
“It has nae been on but an hour, lass.”
She made a sound of assent but leaned closer to inspect the linen. She was aware this brought their bodies in contact, and that Murray stiffened. “Do you know something, Senhor Murray?” she said as she examined the bandage.
“What’s that, lass?” he asked, voice tight.
“I have never been kissed.” She heard his quick intake of breath and met his gaze. His expression was pained.
“Why are ye telling me this?”
“Because when you feel up to it, I want you to be the first man to kiss me.” Satisfied with what she saw, she straightened and then stood. “I suppose I should find Mr. Fortescue and tell him we will need a coach in the morning. And perhaps Mrs. Brown can help me clean this dress.”
Murray just stared at her, his mouth open.
“If I leave you for a moment, you will not decide to walk around, will you, senhor? You will sit and rest?”
He still didn’t respond, just stared at her.
“Good. Then I will be back in a moment. Perhaps I can find you something to eat as well.”
She was almost to the door when he called after her, in a hoarse voice, “And whisky, lass.”
“Of course. I imagine you do need a drink.”
Nine
EMMELINE
Emmeline had not realized how much she wanted Stratford to kiss her. She didn’t realize it until he cupped her neck and pressed his lips to hers and moved tentatively over her mouth. His lips ignited her body like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Suddenly, she was warm and tingling and needing to touch him.
She grasped his shoulders then slid her hands up to the back of his neck, curling her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.
This kiss.
She wanted more of it. She wanted more of him.
He hesitated for just an instant at her urgings, and then with one hot motion he pressed her mouth open and entered her. His tongue slid against hers, and she would have gasped if only she’d been able to breathe. But she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. And the more she felt, the more she wanted to feel, needed to feel. She was thirsty for more of this kiss, for more of him. She imitated his gesture, her tongue mating with his in a delicious slow slide that left her eager to crawl into his lap and get closer. But her kiss must have shocked him, because he pulled back and looked at her.