To Have and to Hold (Finders Keepers #4)

Chapter Ten

As they arrived at their inn for the night, Cecily was struck by the noise from the coach house. Ostlers bustled across the yard, and the sound of merriment and clinking emerged from the taproom, which appeared full. Percy handed Cecily down, his hand on the small of her back as he guided her inside. The innkeeper, once he discovered their identity, bowed obsequiously and led them to a private parlour on the second floor.

Cecily sank on to a chair by the fire, and Percy stood by the window, apparently deep in thought. She removed her gloves, chewing at a hangnail. Tonight, she would be sharing a bed with her husband. A chance for them to rediscover the intimacy they’d begun as Odysseus and Circe. Not only did her body long for it, but she was certain that if she had him in that way, she could convince him that she loved him—or at least, something close. It would be a hurdle overcome. Proof that this marriage would work.

Another reason for him not to leave her.

All she had to do was seduce him.

Percy turned, crossing the room until he stood before her, and removed her hand from her mouth. He smoothed his fingers over hers, lingering on the nail she’d bitten, and once again it reminded her of the book she’d watched him caress. The soft scraping of paper against skin. Heat rose in her core.

“Peace,” he said, smiling down at her briefly. But before she could say anything else, or perhaps even start a conversation, he wandered away from her again, returning to the window and his contemplation.

To her relief, or perhaps her disappointment, dinner arrived promptly, and they took their places at opposite ends of the table. Percy seemed disinclined to conversation after their conversation in the carriage, so dinner, too, was silent. After a glass of wine they drank—once again in silence—before the rather unnecessary fire, Percy offered her his arm and they summoned a servant to take them upstairs.

With every step, Cecily’s heart threatened to ricochet out of her chest. This was her moment. Perhaps it wasn’t the most auspicious of locations for a seduction, but when they entered their room, it was spacious and the bed looked neat, turned down with white sheets. To be sure, she could still hear the roaring men from the taproom downstairs, and the snorting of horses from the stables, the chaos of arrival from another patron, stableboys calling to one another, voices coarse and friendly. And there was no guarantee that the mattress was comfortable, or that they seemed likely to find much sleep.

But this was the first time they were to share a bed in quite some time, and if she waited until they arrived at Hollyhead, they might return to separate rooms. She could envisage pressing her body against Percy’s when they both occupied the same bed. Arriving in his room to enter his bed, and request the right to do so, seemed rather more of a challenge.

“I thought you might like a bath after the journey,” Percy said, and she turned away from the bed to see the screen before the fire. And the steaming bathtub filled with hot water standing in front of the coals’ glow.

A bath.

Her heart leapt into action, hammering against her ribs. This was it. She could ask him to remove her clothing—one had to be naked to enter a bath, which boded well for her plan—and surely things would progress from there.

“Was that presumptuous of me?” he asked when she said nothing. “I won’t be here, Cecy.”

“I—” She frowned at him. “What?”

“I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable. Take as long as you like. I’ll give you plenty of time.”

“What about you?” she asked desperately. “Would you not like to bathe?”

“Tomorrow evening we’ll be home. I can last until then.”

Not knowing what she wanted to say or do, Cecily took a step towards him. Candlelight played over the lines and edges of his face, half gilding him in gold and half in shadow. In a begrudging way, she’d always accepted he was handsome—but now, for some inexplicable reason, he took her breath away.

Had he always been so tall? So broad?

How unreasonable of him to spring these realisations on her now.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said. “If—if you do not want to.”

“Oh?” He looked down at her, his expression unreasonable.

“If it would not be convenient, I mean. You must also be tired, from the journey, and I would not mean to keep you waiting for me outside somewhere when you could be—” Heavens, she was rambling. “I would not like to put you out,” she finished lamely.

More to the point, it would be exceedingly difficult to seduce a man who was not there.

“How considerate of you.” The very corner of a smile curled his lips before he tucked it away again, and she knew she had done something else to make him amused. It seemed to be happening all the time now, but she had lost the poise she had so painstakingly constructed over the course of their time together.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Cecily?”

“I asked for your benefit,” she said helplessly.

“I do appreciate it. But now, you see, I am asking for mine. What would you like me to do?”

A sudden vision assaulted her of Percy’s mouth on hers, his hands exploring her body with the same patience with which he did everything. The bed looked more inviting than ever.

Her fingers tightened in the material of her skirts as she blinked rapidly. Her throat was so desperately dry, but she had a sneaking suspicion that no amount of water would cure it.

“I—”

How did one seduce one’s husband? It seemed a decided oversight that she had not, until now, thought to ask.

Kiss me , every muscle screamed.

“Would you undo my dress?” she asked, turning and presenting him with the laces.

“Certainly.” Hot breath tickled her neck as he began unlacing, fingers quick and nimble. She’d never had anyone other than a maid undress her, and the sensation was entirely different. His knuckles lightly brushed her spine as he went, and she shivered as her dress fell open. A few hooks later and she could pull her arms through, letting it pool to the floor. Now she wore nothing but her chemise and stays, and when she turned to look up at him, the impassiveness on his face was gone, replaced by a burning she recognised. It struck something in her, too, a gong that sounded through her body, reverberating until she , too, burned.

Her face flamed; her fingers shook. He glanced down at her, the remaining layers of material hiding her body from him. Even so, her nipples pearled, visible through the chemise and stays. Temptation and nervousness. The desire for him to touch her, and the sudden urge to hide herself away.

Though she was not bare, she felt as though he saw every inch of her.

He stepped back, the space between them growing cold. “I’ll leave you to your bath,” he said. “A maid will see to you.”

Left standing in the middle of the room, Cecily shivered, wrapping her arms around herself as the door closed and he was gone.

Percy was a coward. A lily-livered, good-for-nothing coward.

What he ought to have said was that he felt it would be better if they took things slowly, and certainly did not get carried away here of all places. He wanted to have her at Hollyhead, and the thought of it made him so impatient to leave, it was an effort for him to stay in place.

He wanted to take his time with her, to have all the privacy they could ever need. There were a multitude of things he wanted, and if this was to be their first attempt at intimacy since repairing their marriage, he did not want it to be here .

If he had stayed, he would have inevitably given in. Remaining and not touching her would have been impossible.

Thankfully, the taproom did not welcome or encourage such thoughts. The majority of its patrons were working men enjoying a meal away from home. Beer spilt onto the floor, which was padded with straw to catch such messes, and his elbows stuck to the table. The scent of tallow candles mingled with body odour and alcohol, the combination so potent he prayed it might have taken his sense of smell before he returned upstairs.

With a twitch of his fingers, he waved over another ale. He was going to need it.

By the time Percy ventured back upstairs, two hours had passed. There was no chance that Cecily could still be in the bath without looking like a prune, which meant he had averted the worst of it.

Or best.

He wasn’t sure if he was doing himself a favour or tormenting himself beyond all endurance.

Probably both.

The room was dark, soft with the scent of roses that had no doubt been used in her bath. This was one of the better coaching inns along the Great North Road, and he was reminded of its quality as the floors barely creaked underfoot. Hopefully Cecily wouldn’t notice his arrival, and especially wouldn’t notice the rustle of fabric as he changed in the semi-darkness.

His valet would be horrified to know the manner by which he stripped, but that was a battle better had in the morning.

The sheets were cool as he slipped between them, and he congratulated himself on a job well done as he settled against the pillow.

Beside him, Cecily slumbered, just as he had hoped she would. No awkward questions, nothing but the scent of her for him to drown in, and the knowledge that barely two slips of material separated them.

As he so often did when he was around her, he hardened. Jasmine lingered in the air, clinging to even his damn pillow, and he wanted to hate it.

As he did with almost all things Cecily-related, he failed.

Heavens above, he was a ruined man. Ruined for her, ruined for all women but her. Incapable of sharing a bed with her without the most lurid fantasies replaying in his mind. Ones where she rolled over him, her body fitting against his the way he knew it was meant to. Nothing between them but breathless desire.

At the thought of her slickness sinking on to his erection, he near groaned. Nearly took himself in hand like an animal, although she was right there. Ordinarily, he had the time and space to sate his desires at least a little. Privacy in his room; more space between them than a matter of inches.

This was not an ordinary situation. And she had no idea what she did to him. For all her pretences that she was a woman of the world, she was still frighteningly innocent. Na?ve about all the ways a man could want a woman. He’d shown her only a little, afraid of scaring her, and if she had been with another man outside of their marriage—

No, he wouldn’t let himself believe it. Not with the way she stiffened whenever he touched her too intimately. Though, at her own confession, that stemmed from the way she disliked and resented him.

Had disliked and resented him. Perhaps now was different.

He throbbed, almost embarrassingly needy, and might even have left the bed in search of some relief when the sheets rustled. She rolled, tangled in the blankets, her hair loose and soft and slightly damp around her head, and pressed against him.

“Percy,” she mumbled, still caught in sleep. Damn him, he wanted to wrap her in his arms. Bring her closer. Relearn her curves with all the ardency he had denied himself the last time.

She shifted, her movements clumsy, and brushed his hardness with her knee. He inhaled sharply, and the sound stirred her. She tensed for a second, and he could practically see awareness catching up with her mind. Then she relaxed again.

“It is you.” One hand came to his face, fingers scraping the stubble that had grown there. “You came back late.”

To avoid precisely this. So he wouldn’t have to encounter any possibility of having her in his arms.

Once again, her leg brushed against his cock, and this time he couldn’t help the sound—barely a sound. A growl, a moan. A huff of air. His hands found her waist, preparing to roll her back. But her eyes widened—curse him, even in the barely there light of the bedchamber, he could see that—and he felt the way she stiffened, body tensing against his. The only thing she wore was a nightgown, and the heat of her skin burned through it.

“Was that—”

“You should go to sleep, Cecily.” His voice was tight, the restraint he had been carrying for so long fraying.

Her fingers twitched against his cheek as though she was also realising what position they were in. How close they were. Her breath shuddered free, dancing across his face.

The darkness was not helping. Perhaps if it was daylight, he could see all the ways this would be a bad idea. Instead, he was painting desire in her eyes, a wild, helpless want that matched his own.

“Percy,” she repeated. Her nose brushed his, and she softened in his arms. The hand on his cheek travelled down until she cradled his jaw. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

He was but a man. His mouth met hers in a wild, searing, half-desperate kiss.