The Disgraceful Mr. Ravenhurst Read online

  ‘How, exactly?’ he asked warily.

  ‘Treat me like a man. One who is not as strong as you, of course. One who doesn’t have a good right hook in a fight. But I’m as intelligent as you are,’ she asserted. ‘I can take responsibility for myself.’

  Theo looked at the slim, dishevelled, determined figure on the box beside him. Treat her like a man? Oh, no, never that. But treat her like an equal? That was an intriguing thought. He thought he had been, but his feelings for her were so overwhelming that she was probably right. His instinct was to protect Nell, cherish her—and all he had achieved so far was a variety of sexual experiences that had doubtless been highly unsatisfactory from her point of view, a fight from which he had had to be rescued, a scandal and a near-death experience.

  ‘All right, I promise,’ he said, meeting her stormy gaze. ‘I can’t treat you like a man, but I can treat you like the independent, intelligent woman you are. From now on, if I do not respect your decisions, you may remind me of that pledge.’

  ‘Good.’ Her nod was decisive, yet there was something else that was troubling her, he could sense it. But he couldn’t force her to confide. ‘Look, an inn. Theo, I don’t care how disreputable it is, I am starving.’

  As it turned out, the Coq d’Or was modest but clean, and the girl who came out as they entered from the yard was pleased to offer them a choice of rabbit casserole or a cut off yesterday’s leg of pork, to be followed by cheese.

  They made short work of the rabbit and still had appetite to attack the cheese, washed down with a pichet of the local red wine. ‘Where are we?’ Elinor asked the girl.

  ‘Eschamps, madame. Do you have far to go?’

  ‘Autun,’ Elinor said promptly. It was a good answer, he conceded mentally. Prompt, with no hint of mystery or concealment, and quite plausible, given the road they were on. Theo tipped his glass to her, to acknowledge the tactic, and she smiled back, turning his heart over in his chest.

  He wanted her. He wanted this. This companionship, this meeting of minds. This enjoyment. That he also wanted her in his bed, stretched out under him while he took that slender, agile body to heights of delight, while he buried himself in her, while he showed her, again and again, how much he loved her, was something he had to deny to himself, had, at all costs to resist.

  In the event the road was better than he expected and the horses stronger than he had hoped and they drew into Jouey, just north of Arnay le Duc, as the light was beginning to fade. And there, by the side of the road, was exactly the sort of inn he had been looking for. Large, respectable, with stabling and grooms and the strong possibility of bedchambers that would give them both the good night’s sleep they needed.

  What he had not foreseen was the enforced, almost domestic, intimacy of the private parlour. Nell was delightfully wifely about the whole thing, insisting on checking the beds to see they were aired, frowning over the choices of food presented, consulting him, then ordering, sending the maid for more candles—creating, very successfully, the impression they were an established married couple. And, again, he had not thought to discuss the need to play-act with her in advance.

  But admiration at her ingenuity was no protection against the insidious yearnings that were stirring in his breast. What if every day could be like this, travelling around the continent, searching for things to buy and patrons to sell to? Having adventures and having, every evening, the contentment of being together, sharing the day. Sharing the night.

  ‘What is it, Theo?’ He looked up with a start to find Nell, elbows on the table, chin on cupped hand, regarding him with a twinkle in her eyes. A bath, a change of linen and another good meal had restored her, both in spirits and in looks. He could have wished she had fallen asleep the moment her feet were over the threshold. ‘You were smiling,’ she explained. ‘Wistfully.’

  ‘That sounds maudlin,’ he said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Don’t I often smile?’

  ‘Not like that. Not as though you had just seen something you loved very much, something in a daydream.’

  ‘Very maudlin,’ he confirmed. ‘Just thinking about something I can never have.’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ She looked embarrassed and he suddenly realised she thought he had been thinking about the words he had let slip on the summit of the hill above Beaumartin. No doubt she had assumed he was pining after some unobtainable love. What would she say if he told her he was dreaming about her?

  ‘Look.’ The crackle of unfolding paper had him snapping out of his self-absorption. ‘I asked the waiter for a map. It’s a bit dirty and creased, but it shows Maubourg. How much longer do you think it will take us?’

  ‘Four days, three nights, unless we hit bad weather or problems on the road or the horses weaken. I’m not intending to force the pace.’

  Nell’s face lit up. ‘Four days? Oh, good. Theo, I’m enjoying this so much now.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Of course. Mind you, we need to shop.’ That smile, the one that went right to the base of his spine, lit up her face. ‘I never thought I’d hear myself say it, but I really, really, want to shop for clothes now. I never enjoyed it before—it was a chore when everything had to be so practical and, anyway, I was convinced I looked plain in anything I bought. You have given me pleasure in dressing up.’

  ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of money, then,’ Theo teased, warmed by the thought he had done something so simple that had given her pleasure. He indulged a fantasy of playing at husband and wife, of shopping together, buying her presents and little luxuries. He would wager that frivolous indulgences, small pieces of frippery nonsense, had never entered Elinor’s life. Well, they would now. ‘Arnay will be fine for the essentials, I am sure.’

  And Lyon for the luxuries. He would keep that as a surprise, find a modiste who could deliver in two days. It would delay them a little, but Nell would arrive at Maubourg with a wardrobe befitting the cousin by marriage of the Grand Duchess, whether she liked it or not. And he firmly intended that she would like it very much.

  ‘Excellent, I’ll make a list, then.’ To his amusement she produced notebook and pencil in a most domestic manner. ‘Linen, a robe. A plain walking dress. A cloak, I think. Yes, that’s all.’ Theo hid an inward smile at the modest list. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘More linen. Shoes—I’ve spent too long in these boots. Toothpowder.’

  Elinor stopped writing and looked up. ‘Brushes? A nightshirt?’

  ‘Yes, those too,’ he conceded. ‘You are being very housewifely. I thought you had no talent in that direction.’

  ‘I am merely being practical,’ she said severely. ‘Someone has to worry about toothpowder.’

  ‘No,’ Theo said, straight-faced, suddenly feeling relaxed and warm and in the mood for teasing. ‘No one should have to worry about toothpowder, and certainly not the intellectual Miss Ravenhurst, who has a mind above such matters.’

  ‘Beast.’ She threw the notebook at him, missing by a country mile. Theo stretched out one arm and caught it.

  ‘Why can’t women throw?’ he enquired, with every intention of being provocative.

  ‘Because we do not waste our time in childhood chasing balls,’ she retorted. ‘Give me my notebook back.’

  ‘No. I shall read it. Perhaps it contains your diary and every secret you possess.’

  ‘You, Theophilus Ravenhurst, are no gentleman.’

  ‘So I have been told.’ He began to flick through the pages, not at all sure what he expected to find. What he did not anticipate was a pencil sketch of his head and shoulders. He was looking away, utterly focused, eyes narrowed. He could not place it, then saw the suggestion of a slender arch in the background and realised she must have done it that morning in the church at St Père, while they were sketching.

  ‘Give it back.’ She sounded tense. ‘That is private.’

  ‘It is very good. What are you so worried about? I’ve got all my clothes on.’

  ‘Oh! You—’
She dived for the book as it hung provocatively from his fingers, managed to get a grip and then was pulled firmly on to his lap and locked there by his arm. ‘Let me go, Theo, or I’ll bite you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t—ow! You little hell cat.’ She was off his lap and round the other side of the table, eyes sparkling, her laughter a positive incitement to any red-blooded male. Theo gave chase, dodging, feinting, always his fingertips a fraction of an inch behind her until they faced each other from opposite ends of the rectangular polished wooden table. Theo vaulted up, took one long step and slid on his knees to her end, arriving just in time to snatch her into his arms and crash off the table on to the settle beyond.

  ‘You idiot!’ she managed, whooping with laughter.

  ‘I have always wanted to do that,’ he confessed, hiccupping faintly himself. ‘I read about it in some novel and decided it was exactly the sort of thing a hero should be able to do, like swinging from the chandelier with a cutlass in my teeth. Naturally, not being a hero, I have never found a use for it.’

  ‘You are a hero,’ Elinor said, no longer laughing. ‘My hero.’ She was very still in his arms, her eyes wide on his face, their colour darkened to a complex green, far more subtle than their usual hazel.

  ‘Nell,’ he began, all the caution knocked out of him. ‘Nell, my—’

  ‘Monsieur?’ The door banged open. ‘Are you all right? I heard a crash. Oh, pardon monsieur.’ The waiter went out again, pulling the door shut behind him with exaggerated care.

  ‘I must go to bed.’ Elinor slid off his knee, her face averted, every line of her body stiff. ‘I’m very tired.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He sounded equally constrained to his own ears. What had he almost blurted out? Nell, my love? My darling? ‘Have you everything you need?’

  ‘Thank you, I will be fine.’ She was not fine. She had never been like this with him, but there was nothing to be said that would not make matters worse. Theo lit a candle and passed the chamberstick to her. ‘Sleep well.’

  As the door leading to the stairs to their two bedchambers clicked shut, Theo sat down on the settle and stared at the notebook that had fallen to the floor. It lay open at the small sketch of him. His own profile was intent, focused. It was the face of a man completely unaware his life was about to be turned upside down. Whatever happened he must not touch her again, not like that, not in any way but the most everyday and fleeting, because he very much doubted if he could control himself if he did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Theo sat for a long time after the footsteps on the boards above his head ceased. Sat while the candles guttered and sent wild shadows across the room. Finally he got to his feet and climbed the stairs stiffly, like a man in pain.

  On the small landing that served only their two rooms, light was still visible under her door. He raised a hand to knock, to ask if she was all right, then opened his fist and laid the palm against the door, listening, trying to feel Nell’s presence.

  The door jerked open so suddenly he almost fell into the room. ‘Theo?’ She was dressed in her mother’s nightgown, several sizes too large and trailing on the boards, a shawl wrapped tight around her shoulders.

  ‘Sorry, I had something caught on my boot and I was freeing it.’ He rested a hand on the doorpost and tried to look casual. ‘Is anything wrong?’

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ she said tersely. ‘Every time I close my eyes I’m in that damnable dungeon. I am so cross with myself. We escaped, we won, we are all right, for goodness’ sake. So why am I afraid of the shadows?’

  ‘Because we could have died,’ he said. ‘And you are intelligent enough to know that and have enough imagination to realise what it would have been like.’

  Elinor made a brave attempt at a smile. Theo’s fingers tightened on the door frame. ‘I’m frightened of having nightmares. Eva told me she used to suffer from them, but Sebastian made them go away, by being there. Theo, I’m not used to being frightened of things I can’t do anything about. It is different if you can fight back, but now I’m terrified of sleeping, and I must sleep, sooner or later.’

  ‘Leave your door open a crack, and I’ll do the same to mine. Then if you cry out in your sleep I’ll hear you and come and wake you,’ he offered. He would fight dragons for her, but how could he fight the ones in her mind?

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, the smile rather more convincing this time. But she was still frightened, he could see it in the very way she squared her shoulders and her chin came up. This was the woman who had faced death by his side, who had tackled two ruffians for his sake and, now she was afraid, all he could offer was to leave his door open.

  Over her shoulder he could see the big bed with its heap of blankets and puffy goose-feather quilt. The landlord had given her the big bed and him a smaller one, presumably calculating that the husband would cross the landing to visit his wife and not the other way around.

  ‘Would it help if I slept with you?’ Her pupils widened so her eyes went dark. ‘Sleep, Nell. That’s a big bed with lots of covers. You get into the bed, I’ll lie under the quilt. If you are aware of my breathing, know I’m here with you, you will not dream.’

  He had no idea whether that was true or not, but if she began to show signs of distress at least he could wake her instantly. ‘I’ll just go and undress.’ He went into his own room before she could say anything and before his own will weakened. It was going to be sheer hell lying next to her, unable to touch her, kiss her, love her. But he had told himself he would fight demons for her. This scaly monster would be his own desires.

  Elinor stripped all but one blanket and the sheet off the bed, slid in and turned over, as close to the far edge as she could get. It was a warm night, but now she felt fevered. She had not expected this. She had expected Theo to give her a brisk, reassuring, lecture to the effect that there was nothing to be afraid of, to pull herself together and not be foolish. That was what Mama would have done. It was what she had been telling herself, with singularly little effect, come to that.

  The thought of making love with him was beginning to haunt her, but he would never risk touching her like that again, she knew. She loved him so much, and yet she was never going to be able to show him—not without him guessing her feelings. Then he would pity her, perhaps feel he had to renew that offer of marriage, and she would have to refuse again.

  He was quick. Her tumbling thoughts unresolved, she lay listening to the sound of bare feet passing over the boards, the click of the door shutting, then the rustle of him sorting through the pile of discarded bedding. The far side of the bed dipped, there was some scuffling and a flapping sound as he shook the cover over himself. Elinor closed her eyes tightly, aware that the candle had been extinguished.

  ‘You do not have to cling to the edge you know.’ He sounded amused. Elinor shuffled back towards the centre a little. ‘That’s better. I’m told I don’t snore.’

  Ana wouldn’t tolerate snoring, I’m sure, Elinor told herself, then smiled, feeling a little better. ‘I’ll prod you in the ribs if you do,’ she replied, trying to make this sound normal. She had feared she would never get to sleep alone; now she was convinced she would be lying awake all night out of sheer embarrassment. ‘Goodnight, Theo.’

  ‘Goodnight, Nell.’ He turned over once, then seemed to settle immediately, his breathing evening out. She rolled over on to her back and turned her head on the pillow. Beside her in the gloom the big body seemed completely relaxed. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing that Theo would not protect her from. With a sigh Elinor closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

  She woke to find herself lying on her back, hot, pinned under the covers by a heavy weight and with hot breath fanning the back of her neck. Theo. Had she dreamed at all last night? She could not remember. All she could recall was feeling safe and dreadfully self-conscious. Now, in the dreamy after-sleep state she still felt safe, and not in the slightest bit uncomfortable.

  Elinor blinked her eyes open and tur
ned her head on the pillow. It was still early, she could tell from the quality of the light through the thin cotton curtain. It shone on the bed, turning Theo’s hair the red-gold of autumn leaves and highlighting the dark stubble over his chin and cheeks. It would not take much for him to grow a beard, she thought fondly, wondering how it would feel if she touched it.

  He was very soundly asleep, lying on his side facing her, his right arm thrown over her waist. She liked the feeling of it, the sense of being claimed and held, but she wanted to touch him. She wanted, she admitted, to kiss him. Was it possible without waking him?

  Cautiously she began to turn within the curve of his arm, sensing new things as she became wider awake. She was more conscious of the scent of him: clean, hot male. One shoulder was visible above the blanket, protruding bare from his shirt. There were old bruises on it and fresh scrapes, bringing vividly to mind the way she had scrambled and clutched at him as she had struggled to free the chain in the dungeon.

  Then she was over, almost nose to nose with him. His lashes were long, even darker than his beard. There was a small, sickle-shaped scar just below his right eyebrow. He did have freckles after all, she realised, they just didn’t show as much as hers because his skin was lightly tanned. My love.

  Could she? Dare she? Elinor leaned in, her lips close to his so that they were breathing the same air, so close she could feel the heat of his skin warming her. Only half an inch more. She puckered her lips and he moved, just enough to bring their mouths together.

  Was he awake? His eyes were still shut. Elinor held her breath, her lips against his, then he shifted his weight over her and kissed her properly, an open-mouthed, utterly sexual caress. His tongue thrust and claimed and explored, demanding she respond, and she followed, unafraid of anything, but not matching what he wanted. Wide-eyed, she held her gaze on his face, but his eyes were still closed. His weight on her was troubling and exciting, both at once. She wanted to struggle simply to feel his strength holding her, but she kept still, sensing that he was not fully awake.