Barnaby suddenly whipped it over their heads and threw it into the far corner of the room.
Annoyed, Rose whirled to face him. “What did you do that for?” she protested and only then realised what she had done.
Rather than allow her to cover her modesty, Barnaby captured her hands and held them away from her body while his gaze slid lovingly over her. Rose struggled to stand still beneath that sensual gaze. What he was doing was scandalous. She should demand he leave; that he behave like a gentleman should and turn his back, but she didn’t. Instead, she tipped her chin up in proudly and waited.
He didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped forward and swept her off her feet.
“Too late,” he growled.
“For what,” she whispered as he lowered her onto the bed.
“To change your mind.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Barnaby awoke sometime in the middle of the night. He had no idea what had woken him and lay still while he listened for the source of the disturbance. The sound of silence had never seemed so loud before. It was deafening, and only interspersed with the soft sound of Rose’s quiet breathing beside him.
He glanced down at her. The last few hours had been exhausting but had left neither of them with any misapprehension as to where their relationship had to go next. In spite of Rose’s denials, he knew there could never be any other outcome, not least because he had taken no steps to prevent a child.
“A child,” he whispered thoughtfully.
The possibility of becoming a father wasn’t as troubling as he had thought it would be. In fact, the more he considered it the more he actually wanted it to come to fruition. If he lowered his guard enough to be truly honest with himself, he was almost prideful of the possibility that Rose might be pregnant with his child. With Rose and a child waiting for him at home he had purpose in his life; a reason to go out and cleanse the streets of criminals, and a reason to go home and enjoy life.
Is this how the others felt when they met the women they married? Barnaby mused as he stared at the ceiling. He had never understood why they had been almost eager to marry before, but then had never met anyone who made him feel how Rose did. It was wonderful. It was a shock. It was slightly awe-inspiring if terrifying at the same time and, to his disbelief, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. There wasn’t anything he wanted to do about it.
Is this what love feels like?
He couldn’t be sure. He had never felt it in his life before. There was nothing else in his life against which to measure this deeply intense feeling of being connected to someone. To be with Rose was an intrinsic need as elemental as the desire to make love to her had been, and still was. He suspected that with Rose they could be together for the next fifty years and the passion would be just as wild as it was now.
Well, if you want fifty years with her you need to get rid of Chadwick and Sayers. Then you can decide what you are going to do to persuade her that marriage is a good thing.
Tucking his hand beneath his head, he looked down at her. She fitted against his side as though she had been made especially for him. Her presence in his bed made him reluctant to leave it. It was only when a rapid series of taps sounded on the window beside him that he snapped out of his thoughts. Easing slowly out of bed, he padded to the window and eased the shutter open enough to peer into the narrow alley beneath.
“What?” he whispered when he saw Reg grinning up at him.
“Trying to get hold of you is like trying to raise the dead. Get down here, we have work to do,” Reg whispered loudly.
Barnaby rolled his eyes but did as he was told. Easing the window down, he assured himself that Rose was still asleep before he quickly dressed. He paused for a minute before leaving to tuck the covers over her bare shoulders lovingly before he tiptoed quietly out of the suite.
Once he had gone, Rose opened her eyes and s
tared at the empty doorway. She knew he had work to do but couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that he had gone. However, that said, she didn’t think she could face him because she didn’t know what to say. What they had shared, what she had allowed him to do to her and with her, had been staggering; wonderful, sensual, yet nothing like she had expected. It was a little embarrassing to have to face him again but she knew that she must. She had to use the time while he was gone to decide what she was going to say to him when that time came. For now, she had to make her mind up what she wanted from life. Barnaby muddled her thoughts so much whenever he was around that she forgot about everything except the way he made her feel.
Only a few short hours ago he had transported her into another world of sensual bliss where nothing else existed but him and her. He had taught her things about herself that had been nothing short of a revelation, and while she had revelled in every moment of their time together she knew it had indeed changed everything. What that meant now though was anyone’s guess. She didn’t know what she wanted out of life, but was adamant that Barnaby wasn’t going to sacrifice himself to the bonds of matrimony unless he wanted to, and had hopefully professed some sort of feelings for her beforehand. The kind of cold-hearted, and almost business like arrangement he had talked about earlier was something that left her cold and eager to avoid even talking about marriage.
How do I go about finding out if he cares? I can hardly ask him outright, can I?
Rose rolled over in bed and felt her lids droop beneath the weight of exhaustion the worries this new turn of events brought her. She found no answers to her thoughts, not least because she didn’t have the energy.
Barnaby strode through the streets after Reg with a dark scowl on his face.
“What do you know?” Reg murmured.
“I know you are a fool, Stephenson,” a dark voice called jovially out of the darkness.
Barnaby and Reg slammed to a halt. Barnaby closed his eyes. He knew that voice.
“Chadwick,” he growled. “Why do I get the impression that you are following me? I didn’t realise you liked me that much.”