“I do.” She did not wait for his instruction to speak this time.
“Good. If it happens to rain, I will return every afternoon around the same time until you are able to meet me.” He moved closer again and Sara’s breath caught, thinking he was going to kiss her again, but he merely retrieved the wet blanket that had dropped around her ankles. He folded it and placed it near the hearth, an action so domesticated it looked bizarre on him.
Mr. Grant turned and regarded her for a long moment. “You are certain you do not wish to take my coach?”
Was that concern she heard in his voice? “Thank you for your consideration, but I will be fine.”
He grunted and took her elbow, escorting her out of the library. “Do not fool yourself into thinking I am a considerate man, Miss Collins. Were you to take ill, I would not benefit from your little adventure.”
Oh. Sara swallowed, allowing him to lead in her silence. At the door, she paused to put her hair to rights, the wet strands clinging to her chin and neck. The memory of his hands cupping her face came to the fore and she fought to keep from blushing.
He opened the door and gave a gallant gesture. “Until Thursday, then.”
She curtseyed and took a step to leave, but his hand fell on her arm. His touch was gentle, but it stopped her in her tracks.
Sara looked at him to find the gleam in his eyes had returned, as well as the wicked smile. He leaned in, close enough to kiss her. “Rule number two, Miss Collins.” His voice was soft and dark, sending a thrill down her spine to flutter in her stomach.
She swallowed. “Yes?” Her voice squeaked.
“No night rails allowed.” His wicked grin remained as he pushed her into motion. Sara automatically kept walking, but the one time she looked back, he was still standing in the doorway, watching her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
No night rail?
No night rail.
Sara could not believe that she had actually not packed a night rail. What in heaven’s name was she to wear? It may be early June, but she would freeze.
This seemed to take adventurous too far.
She stole a glance at the man in question, sitting across from her in the coach. He was not pretending to read the book in his hands, but was watching her through his usual narrowed eyes. She quickly returned her gaze out the window.
She could not believe she was actually doing this. That she, meek and mild Sara Collins who never placed a toe out of line, was actually traveling unchaperoned with a man on their way to a love nest. What would it look like? Would it be a place where depravity openly ruled, where men and women flaunted their nudity and other vices? Or would it be dark and secretive, with only hints of what occurred behind closed doors with other adventurers? She preferred that word to the ones echoing in her mother’s voice: sinner, harlot, slut, whore.
She glanced again at Mr. Grant—Nathan, she remembered. That had been his third rule, that they refer to each other with familiarity. Looking at him now, dressed in all black with a white cravat—it was difficult to reconcile this somber man with his questions from the other day. When will your menses next occur? How long do they usually last? Do they pain you? These were things no one but her knew about, not even Claire and Louisa; it was a subject not to be broached.
Until he had asked them, citing necessity in order to prevent conception—and to ensure optimal pleasure.
Never had she met a man so blunt in his speech, especially regarding delicate subjects. Her father and brother had never openly discussed such things, Jacob did not, and certainly Mr. Pomeroy would never consider asking her such things.
Her life was quickly becoming unrecognizable. She did not even understand how she had been able to convince her friends she was off to visit a previously unmentioned aunt. Was lying so natural to her or were her friends too naïve or trusting where she was concerned?
Even now, instead of meditating too deeply on her current situation, she was worrying about how he had not kissed her since that day in his library. Not even in the forest maze where they had been entirely alone had he taken advantage and kissed her as he did in her dreams. She glanced at him again, wondering just how she could initiate such a thing.
“For the love of God, Sara.” His growl broke the silence, the unexpected sound making her jump. “Stop looking at me like I am going to ravish you where you sit. I am not that sort of man and a coach is not my preferred location for such an activity.”