Unlacing Lady Thea

‘I must be tired. I think I’ll retire for the night.’

‘Hodge has made up the chaise, by the look of it.’ The valet was pulling down the blinds as he backed out of the vehicle.

‘I’ll just have a word with Polly.’ Thea stood up and brushed at the skirts of the serviceable walking dress she was wearing. ‘Goodnight, Rhys.’ She leaned forward and, before he could react, planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you for bringing me. I’ll try not to be a nuisance.’

He must be forgiven for that idiotic moment on the quayside, he decided as he watched her making her way across the gently heaving deck, her skirts caught up tight to stop the wind tossing them.

She had developed some very feminine curves since he had last seen her, he realised as she vanished into the companionway. The memory of them pressed against his body was...stimulating.

Ridiculous chit. What on earth had possessed her to think those boy’s clothes would have been any protection at all once it had become light? It was fortunate that he had been home and she had not been out on the streets in the morning.

With a muttered curse Rhys got to his feet and went to see what Hodge was doing to make the carriage habitable for the night. This was Thea, for goodness’ sake! What was the matter with him? He was going to have to find some obliging female company when they reached Paris if a few days’ celibacy had this effect on him. Thea, indeed!

* * *

Hodge had created a snug nest for her with pillows and rugs. Thea took off her shoes and stockings, folded her cloak and lay down. How clever of Polly to suggest she take off her stays, she thought as she wriggled into a comfortable position. There was absolutely no reason why she could not get a perfectly good night’s sleep with the boat moving in such a soothing rhythm.

No reason at all, except that her foolish brain decided to worry about Rhys and his marriage plans. Not that he was going about finding a bride differently from most eligible gentlemen, she supposed, punching a pillow into shape. But this was Rhys, and he was too passionate, too involved, too...alive, to settle for a bland marriage of mutual convenience, surely?

If he would only take an interest in the young women themselves and not in their parentage and dowries, then he might find a soulmate, someone who could heal the wounds Serena had inflicted.

She tried to think what sort of young lady would suit him. Not blonde, of course. But she’d have to be pretty. And... Warm, rocked by the waves, Thea drifted off to sleep.

* * *

‘Ow!’ Thea let out a startled cry, more of confusion than pain. It was dark, her whole left side hurt from colliding with something hard and she had no idea where on earth she was. The surface she was lying on rose and fell and she thumped down again, her limbs tangled in blankets.

The chaise. I’m in the chaise on the deck of the ship and we must have hit a rock or something. Get out.... She scrabbled at the door catch but it wouldn’t open. I’m going to drown.... ‘Rhys!’

Chapter Five

‘Thea?’ The door swung open and Rhys landed on top of her with more force than grace, a shadowy form in the dark. ‘Are you all right? I heard you cry out.’

‘Are we sinking?’ She grabbed for him and found a handful of linen shirt. He must have shed coat and waistcoat before settling for the night.

‘No, nothing like that, we are quite safe.’ The words ended on a grunt of pain as they were jolted up again. ‘Damn, I bit my tongue.’ He wedged himself into a corner and pulled Thea across his lap, his arms safe and sure around her as the panic drained away.

‘The captain has altered course and we’re running across some very choppy waves, something to do with the set of the wind and the way the tide is running. Do you feel sick?’

‘I was asleep, and when I was thrown into the air I had no idea where I was or what was happening, so I was alarmed, but I don’t feel ill, which must be a miracle. This is like being in a butter churn pulled across cobbles.’ She clutched at his arms. ‘How will we ever sleep?’

‘Stay there a moment.’ Rhys began to rummage around in the dark, heaping up blankets by the sound of it. ‘If I lie down diagonally, I can wedge myself pretty well. You lie down in front of me.’

He reached for her hand and tugged and Thea half slid, half tumbled, across his body.

‘Ugh. Turn your back and try not to elbow me in the stomach again.’

‘Sorry.’ It was a very firm stomach. Thea gave herself a brisk mental shake. ‘Like this?’ He was warm and hard and, when his arms came around her to anchor her in place, she stopped sliding about. It did nothing for the up-and-down jolting.

‘Just like this.’ His voice in her ear trembled on the edge of a laugh.

‘What is so funny?’ she enquired tartly.

‘This is. I was imagining our eloping couple—the ones from the book you think we should write. Here they are, alone at last, and Neptune has decided to act as chaperon.’

‘Of course! He is on the seabed, poking up irritably with his trident. Here he goes...again. Ouch.’

‘Try to relax.’ Rhys ignored her snort of derision. ‘We’ll get used to it. Just let go. You need the sleep.’

‘Impossible! How can I sleep like this?’

‘Count dolphins jumping over rocks,’ Rhys murmured in her ear. ‘Sheep would get too wet.’

‘Idiot,’ she murmured. One, two, three...here comes a porpoise....

* * *

Rhys sighed and moved his mouth gently against the head of the woman in his arms. This was the way to wake up. Warm, rocking gently, arms full of soft, curvaceous femininity.

She smelled of roses, whoever she was. He must try to recall her name in a minute; it was ungentlemanly to forget in the morning. Not that he could recall the night before either, but he supposed it must have been good. His body was certainly awake and interested.

When he pulled her more tightly against his groin she snuggled back with an erotic little wriggle that inflamed an already insistent erection to aching point.

‘Mmm.’ Rhys nuzzled the silky fine hair and let his right hand stray lightly across her body. They were both dressed, after a fashion, although their bare feet had obviously made friends in the night. Perhaps she had pulled on her gown again afterwards for warmth, because under the fine wool he could feel uncorseted curves and the sweet weight of an unfettered breast. As his thumb moved across the nipple it hardened and he smiled.

His companion stirred, stretched, her feet sliding down against his. She yawned and he came completely awake. He was in the chaise, on the ship, heading for France and in his arms, pressed against his insistent erection, her breast cupped in his hand, was Lady Althea Curtiss.

Rhys bit back the word that sprang to his lips and went very still. Was she awake? Had she realised? Probably not or she’d be screaming the place down, or, given that this was Thea, applying that sharp elbow where it would do most harm. He let his hand fall away from her breast, lifted the other from her hip, arched his mid-section as far back as he could. If he tried to slide his arm from under her, she would probably wake.

Damn it. Thea, the innocent, respectable friend whom he had already shocked with that embrace. If his wretched wedding tackle would only take the hint and calm down, that would be a help; he was as hard as teak.

Rhys thought about Almack’s, tripe and onions, Latin verbs, tailors’ accounts. It didn’t work. His brain, apparently having lost all its blood in a mad southwards dash, was disobediently musing on just where Thea had acquired those curves from and when she had begun to smell of roses and how that mousey mane of hair could be so silky.

‘Rhys?’ His name was muffled in a yawn.

‘Yes. Roll off my arm, would you? I’ve got pins and needles.’

‘Sorry.’

Merciful relief. In the dim morning light Rhys grabbed for a blanket and hauled it across his lap as he sat up.

Thea sat up, too, stretching her arms in a way that made him moan as her bosom rose and fell. ‘Are you all right? Shall I rub it better?’

‘No! I mean, no, my arm is fine now.’ Rhys gave it a shake to demonstrate and grabbed for the door handle. ‘I’ll get out and let you get...get ready. Yes.’ He landed on the deck and bundled the blanket back into the chaise. Damn it, he sounded like a gauche seventeen-year-old. ‘I can see the shore clearly. We’ll be landing soon, I expect.’

‘Oh, good.’ Thea’s voice came faintly through the closed door. ‘I won’t be long.’

Hell’s teeth. Rhys tottered to the main mast, took a firm grip on a rope and dragged cold sea air down into his lungs. What have I agreed to? That isn’t little Thea in there, that is Lady Althea, all grown up...and out and... Stop it. He was, for Heaven’s sake, a sophisticated man with considerable sexual experience. He was a notorious flirt. His wits were normally perfectly capable of dealing with any female. So why couldn’t he cope with this one? It would be better when she was up and dressed and looking like Thea again in that drab dress with her cheerful, intelligent, blessedly ordinary face smiling at him. And her corset on, please, God.

* * *

Thea pulled on her stockings, tied her garters and searched for her shoes, all ordinary, every-morning tasks. Only this was not every morning. Today she had woken up plastered against the body of a virile, aroused man. Which was interesting, if ruinous for her peace of mind. She suspected that Rhys had no idea how awake she had been, or that she knew why he had bundled out of the carriage in such haste with a blanket clutched to his midriff.