Barely a Bride (Free Fellows League 1)

She took a moment to digest this information, and when she spoke, Colin heard the disappointment and the resignation in her voice. “When do you leave?”

“I’ll be gone by the time you awake.”

“I see.”

He breathed in the scent of her. “No, I’m afraid you don’t. But at the moment, there’s no other way.”

She recognized a note of what sounded like genuine regret in his voice and swallowed her pride in order to ask, “Can you take me with you? Away from this place?”

She couldn’t see him, but she felt the movement when he shook his head. “I wish I could.”

She sighed. “Will you do something for me before you go?”

“If I can,” he said carefully.

“Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”

It wasn’t very much to ask, and Colin found himself agreeing. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome...” Colin searched his memory for a name to fit the voice and the scent. But no name came to mind, and he was left with a vague sense of loss. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Hold me,” she whispered. “Until I fall asleep.”

The room was still shrouded in darkness when Colin awoke with the young lady in his arms. Her head was pillowed on his chest, and the stab wound he’d suffered earlier in the evening ached like the very devil. Colin didn’t know for sure, but he thought the ache must have awakened him.

He rolled to his side, shifted her weight from his shoulder to the pillow, and left the bed. Leaning down, Colin gently tucked the covers around her shoulders. His breath fanned her cheek moments before he impulsively covered her lips with his.

He meant the kiss to be a mere brush of his lips on hers, but his intent could not contain his sudden urgent need to make it more. Colin ran his tongue over her p

lump bottom lip, savoring the taste and texture of it, teasing her, testing her, seeking permission, asking her to grant him entrance.

She yielded, parting her lips and acquiescing to his silent request. Their breaths mingled as he deepened the kiss, moving his lips on hers, kissing her harder, then softer, then harder once more, testing her response, slipping his tongue past her teeth, exploring the sweet, hot interior of her mouth with practiced finesse.

Colin caressed the interior of her mouth, using his tongue in a provocative imitation of the mating dance. And she followed his lead, returning his kiss with an urgency and hunger that thrilled him as much as it surprised him. He made love to her mouth, and the jolt of pleasure he felt shook him down to his boots. Blood pounded in his head, and his arms trembled from the strain of holding himself above her while every nerve in his body urged him to lower himself to the bed and bury himself in her softness.

Resisting the temptation to wait until dawn in order to get a look at her, Colin pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed a kiss against her hair. “Good-bye,” he murmured, and left.

Sitting in the chair by the window the next morning, Gillian wondered if it had all been a dream. She wondered if the man who had held her in his arms last night had been her husband or a figment of her imagination. And she couldn’t recall Colin feeling or sounding the way he’d sounded last night. He was different from the way she remembered—more thoughtful and gentle. And his kiss… She sighed. His kiss had to be a figment of her imagination, because it was so much better than she remembered. Colin had never kissed her like that before. He had never kissed her with such tenderness or such passion. And although he’d left her once again, there had been nothing hurried or perfunctory about the way his mouth claimed hers. If she hadn’t seen the spot of blood on her nightgown this morning, she would have thought that he was a dream, but there was no doubt that he’d been real.

She started at the sound of a knock on the door. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Gillian scrubbed away all evidence of sleep before answering. “Who is it?”

“Mistress Douglas,” the innkeeper’s wife answered. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“I didn’t order breakfast,” Gillian answered, trying hard to ignore the insistent rumbling of her stomach at the mention of food.

“I brought it anyway,” Mistress Douglas explained. Gillian frowned. “I cannot pay you for it,” she admitted reluctantly in a voice tight with pride.

“No need,” the innkeeper’s wife answered. “Meals are included with your bed and board.”

Meals hadn’t been included at supper last night or yesterday’s nooning hour, or at breakfast when Gillian had waited in vain for a meal, hoping the innkeeper or his wife would take pity on her.

“Unless you’ve a mind to go without, I’d open the door,” Mistress Douglas told her. “This tray is heavy, and I’ve customers waiting downstairs.”

Gillian didn’t need further prompting. She unlatched the door and swung it wide, stepping back to allow the innkeeper’s wife to enter. The aroma of eggs and kippers, fresh-baked bread slathered in butter, accompanied by a pot of steaming tea, filled the room. Gillian came close to swooning as she watched Mistress Douglas set the wooden tray on a table near the fireplace. “It smells heavenly.”

Mistress Douglas gave Gillian a dismissive snort, then turned on her on her heel and headed for the door. “Mr. Douglas will bring you a bucket of coal for the fire once we’re done with breakfast.”