He nodded and crossed the room to her side, his fingers itching to become tangled up in the softness of a pampered head of hair. He drew some up to his face to brush across his cheek, but was startled by a memory dredged up from the murky depths of his past. “I think my mother had hair almost as long as yours.”
“I thought you said you didn’t remember her?”
He shook his head. “I don’t really. But this reminded me that her hair was long and brown.”
“Like yours.”
“Prettier.” He backed away. Too much intimacy between them was dangerous. He was playing a role and not meant to forget his purpose in being here. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be another emotional day, I suspect.”
She gathered her hair together and tied it loosely with a ribbon at her nape. She dabbed sweet-smelling cream to her face and neck and then suddenly turned to face him. “I’m glad you remembered your mother. I think she’d be proud of her son.”
“Not if she could see where I’m standing.” Jeremy threw an arm wide, gesturing her toward her bed impatiently. “Good night, Lady Rivers.”
Fanny climbed into her bed and then patted the space beside her. “Come to bed, Jeremy.”
Jeremy hesitated a moment before joining her. Tonight, though, he kept his jacket and boots on. He wanted nothing to impede his speed if someone came back…or when he snuck out of the chamber a second night in a row.
But sleep eluded him. He was alert to every creak of the great house around them.
Fanny, he believed, remained wide awake on her side of the bed, too. Her feet kept shifting, her occasional sigh loud in the dark room.
He turned his head to face her. “Did you sleep beside your husband when you were married?”
Fanny rolled toward him. “Yes.”
“How did you sleep? In his arms or separated?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Well, I don’t really have a specific reason other than distracting you from worrying that someone might return.” He shrugged. “And if I was ever to be offered the role of a loving husband in a play, I merely wondered what my options would be for the bedroom scene.”
She sighed. “Not all husbands like to share a bed with their wives. Even when they love them to distraction.”
He nodded. “What sort of man should I be? Someone who holds you all night long or worships from afar?”
“This is just a play we are speaking of, isn’t it?”
He drew in a slow breath. He wanted to hold her tonight very much, but he was waiting for her to at least hint in that direction, too. “Of course. I am yours to direct.”
Fanny shifted closer and when he lifted his arm, she curled up to his side. The scent of her body, the cosmetic she’s smoothed over her skin, did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart. He glanced at the ceiling as his cock began to thicken. It had last night, too, though he’d had better success in willing it away.
Fanny sighed softly. “This is perfect.”
“It is,” he agreed. Jeremy kept his arm loose about her back, fighting the need to draw her closer still. “But it must be for the last time.”
“I’m sure it will be,” she promised and then yawned, burrowing against his chest. She looked up suddenly. “What sort of a person carries around a turnip only to throw it onto a performer on stage?”
He laughed softly against her hair. “I’ve no idea or desire to learn, my lady.”
“Fanny. I like hearing you say my name.”
“Fanny,” he whispered.
Jeremy knew the precise moment Fanny fell asleep soon after. The sound of her even breaths filled his ears and soothed him in ways he didn’t quite understand. He’d never had this with any woman before. The holding, the laughing, the falling asleep together, confiding in each other.
He glanced down at her face. In sleep, as she was when awake, Fanny was stirringly beautiful but so far out of his reach.
He allowed himself to imagine for a moment a future where he would always have Fanny in his arms. But he shouldn’t delude himself that she really needed him. He was a convenient distraction…just like all her other strays had been before he’d come along.