My Christmas Knight (The Fairplace Family #1)

Chapter Seven

York, December 26, 1856

D ennis wished he had his rifle. Or a knife. Even a sharp fork, at this point. There weren’t even candlesticks in the room to use as a club.

By midnight, cold had seeped into the car. Without the heat of the car’s friction along the track the air had cooled noticeably. Sighing, he bent over and began to unlace his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Blanche’s clear voice cut through the haze of helpless rage surrounding him. Her voice wasn’t especially melodious, dusky, or bell-like. But the sincerity she conveyed through her tone made him feel…seen. How had she survived so long?

“I’m tired,” he said. “If you do not mind?” His mind unhelpfully provided images of Blanche in bed, twining around him like ivy, naked limbs trembling with pleasure. No, if he was trying to escape marriage to the woman, those fantasies moved him in the wrong direction.

She shook her head, eyes bright.

Dennis removed his shoes but not his socks. He didn’t like people staring at his left foot. He’d lost his small toe to frostbite around last New Year, and Blanche didn’t need to know that. He was one of the lucky ones; he knew several men who’d lost a whole foot. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and shrugged it off, looking up to see if Blanche would blush and protest.

Instead, she stared at him with wide eyes and parted mouth. Those lips were begging for a kiss.

God, his throat was tight. Why couldn’t he breathe? His fingers dug between his necktie and collar, and he quickly untied it. “Do you want to be more comfortable?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Change into anything?”

Blanche hesitated, then nodded. She stood and opened a trunk, withdrawing a linen nightdress. She glanced up at Dennis, question in her eyes.

Dennis turned away, knowing she wanted privacy. “You realize this isn’t what a red-blooded man likes to do when locked in a room with a beautiful woman.” Shite, had that actually come out of his mouth? He was no lady’s man, but he’d thought he had more decorum than a blootered sailor.

Blanche squeaked, but she didn’t sound upset by his presumption.

Fabric rustled for a second time that evening. Dennis’s cock grew hard in half a second. He gritted his teeth at the sensation. Down. This is the worst thing for her. But the blood steadily pumped southward until he pressed against the waistband of his trousers. Blood pounded in his ears. It was a good thing she couldn’t see his lust.

Dennis closed his eyes and willed his erection to subside. Frogs. Artillery fire. Gangrene. Great aunt Astrid. Nothing changed, save for his fists becoming sweaty.

“I’m decent,” Blanche chirped.

Dennis didn’t know what to do. He turned and went to the bed. He sat down and placed one of the two pillows casually across his lap. Like he was thirteen. Good grief, what was happening to him?

Blanche didn’t seem to notice. And why would she? She’d been reared at a strict all girls’ school, then practically a prisoner at her uncle’s house. What little sexual knowledge she had probably came from that cad who deflowered her. And Dennis bet he hadn’t even done a proper job of it.

There. Thinking of that arsehole seducing Blanche took care of his cock.

Blanche stood beside him, looking at the bed hesitantly. Her nightdress was so, so thin. Even in the dim light of the paraffin lamp, he could see the outlines of her breasts and the dark shadow at the apex of her thighs.

I bet her nipples are sweeter than honey. Damn, he shouldn’t have looked. His cockstand returned. He reached over impulsively and tugged on the end of her braid.

She giggled. She had a wonderful laugh. And a fucking awful family. She deserved so much better. He wished he could help her escape.

“Do you sleep with it loose?” Dennis asked, twisting his wrist so the braid wrapped around him. Fetters so fine he’d never desire freedom.

“Not usually. It’s so long it tangles.”

“Will you tonight?” The words slipped out before he could think better. “Please?”

Her cheeks turned pink, as lovely as the dawn. She really did look better with a little life in her face. “If…if you want, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Dennis untied the rag at the end. He’d never been so fascinated with a woman’s hair before. Then again, he’d never seen Blanche’s hair. Blanche stood still as he unwound her hair, caressing each strand as it released. When he’d seen her on the platform he’d thought her plain and her hair merely brown. But it wasn’t. In each strand was every shade of brown he loved, and it changed depending on the angle of lamplight falling across it. Chocolate here, burnt caramel there. Another loop undone, and it was a river of toffee, then cinnamon. Falling leaves and walnut pie. Whoever married Blanche would be a lucky man indeed.

Soon Blanche stood with her hair rippling around her, reaching past her knees. Each wave shone in the lamplight, and little curls framed her face. She smiled shyly. “What do you think?”

Dennis’s heart thumped. “It’s gorgeous,” he rasped.

“Not too long?” Her brow furrowed.

“You could kill a man with hair like that.” He dragged his gaze away from her hair and looked at her eyes. She was so vulnerable, so desperate for some kindness. He rose in one fluid movement and faced her. They stood so close he could see her nipples press against the nightdress when she inhaled.

His fingers somehow found themselves tangled in her hair, pulling her head to the side.

She let him, tilting her head and exposing the long, graceful line of her neck. Her steady eyes never left his. She trusts me, he realized. And bastard that he was, he didn’t warn her off. He embraced it.

“Dennis,” Blanche whispered. Her breath warmed his cheek.

He groaned and buried his other hand in her hair, reveling in the silky slide against his calloused fingers.

And then he kissed her.

He hadn’t meant to. He’d been trying not to, actually. Or maybe she had kissed him? It was all fuzzy. All Dennis knew was that his lips covered hers, and it was the best kiss of his life. He leaned into the kiss, letting his lips play across hers. He embraced the sting of his split lip. It heightened, rather than detracted, from the experience of Blanche’s softness.

Her lips quivered beneath him, so soft and sweet. He nibbled her lower lip and she gasped. But a second later she returned the favor, and he moaned into her mouth at the sensation. He hardened the kiss, letting her feel a fraction of his desire for her.

She opened her mouth and tentatively licked his upper lip. Just a tiny lick, but the heat shot through his body and down to his groin like electricity. He couldn’t let her go after that. He opened his mouth and licked the corner of her mouth, then gently entered her. She welcomed him, her tongue stroking his.

He needed more. Her hair trapped his hands, an exquisite torment when her breasts were right there , begging for attention. Her hands splayed across his chest, and he wished he weren’t wearing a shirt. At least he’d had the foresight to remove his waistcoat. He opened his mouth and stroked deeper, and she sagged against his chest with a pleasurable whimper.

Dennis withdrew to kiss the corner of her mouth, then up her jaw. He reached under her ear when she giggled and squirmed away.

“Forgive me!” she gasped. “Your whiskers. They tickle.”

He pulled back and rubbed his jaw, the bristle scratching his palm. It had been almost a full day since he’d shaved. The moment’s reprieve cut into the blossoming desire between them, and Dennis finally thought with his brain instead of his cock. He forced himself to step back.

Blanche stared steadily at him, lips swollen and glistening from his attentions. Her hair looked windswept—or fucked—and she was the most beautiful creature Dennis had ever seen. He drank in the sight of her.

He took another step, the backs of his knees hitting the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It’s dishonorable to push my attentions on a woman who has no ability to escape.”

Her lips turned upward into a small smile. “I suppose I should be sorry, too. But I’m not. Thank you. That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Dennis fought the urge to preen. “You’re irresistible, Blanche Badnarrow,” he said gruffly.

Likely self-conscious, she began combing her fingers through her hair. “Now I must plait it all over again. Some rude man demanded to see what I looked like.” But her lips quirked, so he merely shrugged and grinned. He rubbed his hands together to create some heat.

After the awkwardness passed, they gazed around the room in the flickering lamplight.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he volunteered, trying not to shiver.

She frowned. “It’s cold. You stayed in the bed earlier.”

Dennis flushed. “I shouldn’t have.”

Blanche opened her mouth, shut it, and looked away, rubbing her arms.

“What is it?”

“I…” she faltered. “I need to use the lavatory again.”

It had been several hours, and Dennis realized he needed to relieve himself also. Wordlessly, he went to the door and knocked loudly.

After a few seconds the door cracked open and the larger of the bishop’s servant’s head appeared. “What?”

“We need to use the lavatory,” Dennis told him.

The man hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. “His Excellency says you’ll only come out when you’re married.” His Geordie accent was so thick Dennis could barely decipher it.

Dennis stared in disbelief. “We are merely asking to relieve ourselves.”

The man shook his head. “His Excellency says this is a good incentive.”

“Damn it, man, move out of the way so I can take a piss!” Dennis shoved himself against the door, gripping the edge and prying it back.

But the man had the advantage, and he slammed it shut. Dennis barely got his fingertips away in time.

He turned to Blanche. “I apologize.”

Blanche grimaced, still rubbing her arms. “You tried. Hopefully things don’t become…unpleasant during the night.”

Dennis decided not to think about it. He scrubbed his face with both hands, frustration building in his body so much his skin tingled.

The door opened halfway suddenly, and the lady’s maid stood in the doorway with a ceramic chamber pot. “Here.”

Dennis took the pot—he wasn’t going to let it slip away—but tried again. “The lady and I can hardly do our business while one another is present.” The lamplight flickered again, longer this time. “We need more paraffin and wick, too. The lamp’s going out.”

She shook her head. “This is all His Excellency will allow.”

The door slammed shut. The lock clicked, and Dennis’s heart sank. Yet again he failed to escape.

“Did she give us a chamber pot ?” Blanche’s voice came half amused, half horrified.

Dennis turned, showing the ceramic container with ivy painted around the edges. “I’m afraid so.”

Blanche sighed and squared her shoulders. “Well. I suppose we’ll make the best of it.”

Impressed at her fortitude, Dennis set it on the ground in front of her. “I’ll cover my ears,” he promised.

They took turns, embarrassment filling the air. Dennis tried to think of something to say but decided to remain quiet. He did his business as quickly as he could without splashing, grateful Blanche stood as far from him as possible with her hands over her ears and her eyes screwed shut.

He set the lid on and slid it under the bed. “Finished.” He couldn’t believe he’d actually pissed in the same room as a lady. The last time a woman had been in the room when he’d pissed he’d used a bedpan, and she was a nurse. Instead of causing disgust, a strange sense of camaraderie knit between them. He’d never felt like this with a woman before.

He shook his head. This was so much, so fast. But he knew she was special, that she’d touched a part of him no one else had before. He wanted more time with her.

Blanche turned with a wry smile. “I’m glad you’re such a good sport about all of this.”

Dennis grinned. “Oh, I’m seething inside. I’m not sure I’ve ever hated a single man as much as I hate your uncle. But I couldn’t take it out on you. You’re more a victim here than I am. I can’t believe you’ve survived seven years with him as your guardian.”

Sadness settled across her features, and after a pause she opened her mouth to speak.

Just then the lamp guttered out, casting the compartment into utter darkness.

Bloody hell. Another complication. Dennis turned toward the lamp to see if he could salvage anything when a shriek split the air.