Seven Nights to Forever (19 page)

He tugged on the edge of his sleeve, a furrow marring his brow.

“Just tell me. There is no use trying to ease into it.”

“Well, his total is now at five hundred and fifty-seven pounds, less what I’ve already used to pacify the hells.” He spoke in a flat voice, as if relaying facts and nothing more. “I just parted with the last of the sum you had given me. This one was particularly unpleased at Mr. Marlowe’s lack of interest in making good on his vows. I got the distinct impression the situation was not a recent occurrence. I’d hazard to guess he started racking up the total the moment he stepped foot in London.”

That meant he had been well over six hundred pounds in debt as of this morning. He had left Oxford after Michaelmas term. A little over three months in London.

All young gentlemen gambled. It was the way of things, and almost expected of a gentleman of good standing. But that much debt in so short a time? It went far beyond keeping up appearances and trod dangerously into the realm of a true problem.

The years on her back had finally repaid her father’s debts not that long ago. Definitely not long enough for her to have built any sort of savings or make a dent in repairing the family’s coffers. And since his move to London, Dash was proving very expensive to keep. Not to mention the repairs Paxton Manor always seemed to need. The safe hidden in her father’s study held a rather pathetically paltry sum, one she had hoped to be able to add to, not deplete.

“Would you mind ever so much returning with me on Wednesday, before I leave for home? Two more nights of work won’t nearly be enough to settle the debts, but it will at least be something.” A few pounds here and there showed intent to repay, a sign creditors preferred over silence or avoidance.

“Of course I’ll return with you. You needn’t even ask.”

That James’s hard-earned money was being put to such a use . . . She let out a sigh. And just the thought of more debts made her want to cover her face with her hands and crumple. She had believed the dreaded beasts finally behind her when she’d paid off the last of her father’s creditors. At the end of her week at Rubicon’s, she would return to Bedfordshire with not even ten pounds to put in the safe. It would take almost two more weeks of work to pay off Dash’s debts. And that was assuming he didn’t accrue more in her absence.

Her shoulders sagged, as a bone-deep weariness settled over her. She felt so very alone. Felt it acutely. And she was so very tired of being alone. She had Timothy, and frankly wouldn’t know what she would do without him, but it wasn’t the same as having someone to help shoulder her burdens. To hold her close and tell her it would be all right.

“You do realize he could also have personal debts?” Timothy asked. “Vowels given during a card game at his club or during an evening of revelry with his friends. There is really no way for us to discover the extent of any of those unless he chooses to reveal them to you.”

“Yes, I know.” Unless she received a visitor at Paxton Manor. She knew well what those calls would be like. The gentlemen she wasn’t concerned about. Dash hadn’t gone to his grave, so they would deal directly with him, using the threat of the loss of his honor as leverage against him. The unsavory ones, however, would have no qualms seeking out a relation if Dash’s pockets proved empty. And she would be able to give them nothing but her word that she would do her best to remedy the situation.

Timothy dragged a hand through his antique blond hair, pushing it off his brow, and speared her with a solemn stare. “Dash is now eighteen years of age.”

“And?” she queried, more than a tad defensive, as she had a fair idea of where this conversation was headed.

“He’s a man and should be held responsible for his own actions. You can’t coddle him forever.”

“I’m not coddling him. I’m merely giving him the opportunities he was meant to have,” she said, repeating the words she had used time and again, and refusing to examine how they were starting to ring with the hollow note of an excuse.

Timothy let out a heavy sigh. “I know you love him, Rose.” Of course she did. He was her younger brother and the only family she had left. “But you aren’t doing him any favors by solving his problems for him. And he will discover the debts have been paid. What will you tell him when he questions you about it?”

“He won’t question it. He’ll simply be relieved they were taken care of for him.” Regardless of Dash’s attempt to play the bristly adult male, he had to know deep down that the only way the debts would be cleared would be if she took care of them. He had no income other than his allowance, after all. If their father was alive, if he hadn’t beggared the estate, he would see to such matters. As it was, it was left to her. “But he
is
only eighteen. Why would anyone lend such sums to one so young?”

“It’s not as if he is penniless. He’s from a good family, frequents the best tailors, and runs with others of his ilk. He wouldn’t look like much of a risk. And if it comes down to it, he has his bachelor apartments. That place cost you a tidy sum. It could go a decent way toward repayment.”

She definitely did not want to think about it coming to that. The irony that all her efforts had led her to this point was not lost on her. She couldn’t very well change her course now. One decision five years ago had set it in stone. But however much she wished to delay it, soon she would need to have another discussion with Dash. She could not afford to return to London and find his vowels had multiplied in her absence. In her experience, one rarely succeeded in gambling their way out of a hole, but that didn’t mean Dash wouldn’t try.

The hackney slowed to a stop in the back courtyard. But rather than bring yet more dread chasing down on her, the sight of the back door raised her spirits for the first time . . . ever. That door would lead her to James. In just a handful of hours, she would see him again. Just the thought of being with him had her reaching for the brass lever on the carriage door, a smile flittering on her lips. And she had no doubt he would make good on his unspoken promise of more.

GOOSEFLESH
rose across her belly, flaring up to tighten her nipples, as James used a damp towel to carefully wipe away the physical proof of his climax. He was not only handsome and kind, but thoughtful and considerate, as well. The man was near perfect.

“Come here and kiss me,” Rose murmured, coasting her hand up his arm.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, his mouth quirking.

As if he had not already spent the evening indulging the pleas tumbling past her lips, she wanted more. More of his kisses, his touch, more of him.

Eyes heavily lidded and hair tousled from her greedy fingers, he dropped the length of towel to the floor and shifted from his seated position on the edge of the bed to move into her open arms.

Sweat-dampened skin met hers as he settled between her legs, his weight braced on his elbows. The light smattering of hair on his chest teased her breasts made sensitive from the attentions of his decadent mouth. No one would guess by looking at him that he could not only do such scandalous things with his mouth, but also took great pleasure in bestowing them on her. The conservative façade hid a sensual side that effortlessly wrapped her in a veil of sublime decadence. His hot tongue adeptly finding the most sensitive spots on her body, his soft yet firm lips made to be on hers.

Slow and lazy, he kissed her, pausing every now and then to rub his nose against hers or to nip lightly at her bottom lip. She adored this new playful side of him. It had made its first real appearance last night, after that dreadful afternoon visiting the hells, and she was quite grateful it had not been a singular event.

The man who had once balked at just the mention of her bedchamber was long gone. The last two evenings had been spent right here in her bed. The bronze coverlet bunched at the foot, the white sheets rumpled and twisted. The fire in the hearth warming the room, the drapes closed tight against the dark sky. Under the soft glow of the candles, he lavished her body with affection, consuming her senses, enveloping her in a world she never wanted to leave. Never before had she so looked forward to the night, and this was her favorite part of all.

Bodies sated, impatient lust appeased, when they could touch and kiss at their leisure, and enjoy simply being together.

She dragged her lips down his neck, mouthed at his pulse. A low growl rumbled in his throat. Then she pushed on his shoulder. That was all that was needed. Just a light nudge and he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, a dark curtain on either side of her face. One more kiss, and then she pushed up to straddle his waist. Starting at his right shoulder, she worked her way down his arm, gently kneading the hard muscles. Over the bulk of his biceps, his skin smooth as satin, and down to his strong corded forearm, the fine hairs tickling her fingertips. She had vowed to make his evenings as enjoyable as possible, and judging by the raspy grunts of content pleasure, she was succeeding.

His lashes drifted closed. A grateful smile stole across his mouth. Focusing all of her attention on him, she captured his large hand in both of hers, brought it up and massaged his callused palm. Worked the space between his forefinger and thumb. Let his finger slide through her grip, giving it a little tug before moving on to the next.

The big body beneath her was completely lax as she set his arm at his side. His left arm received just as much attention as his right. And then she moved to his chest, sweeping her hands in long slow drags over the broad expanse.

“Come here and kiss me.” His eyes were still closed, but the once lazy curve of his mouth had taken on a sinful twist.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied, throwing his words back at him.

His chest rumbled with the beginnings of a chuckle as she leaned down to press her lips to his. Hands gripped her hips, and then he rolled them so he was on top of her once again. Time and tomorrow had no place in her head when he kissed her. His adept tongue caressing hers, the stubble from his day’s beard tickling her cheek.

He gave her chin a little nip and then pulled back. “I should let you get some rest,” he said, brushing her temple with his thumb in a gentle, lulling caress.

Cool air hit her skin as he shifted off to get out of bed. With her cheek resting in her palm, she stretched out on her side and watched as he grabbed his trousers and drawers from the floor at the foot of the bed. He was definitely physically perfect, well-defined muscles rippling beneath pale golden skin and with shoulders that seemed to go on forever. The hours he spent in his warehouse had given him a body more suited to manual labor than pushing papers about a desk, and she was quite thankful for it.

The white shirt he found at the side of the bed, where he had thrown it in his haste to remove it. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss before pulling the shirt over his head. As he moved about the room, finding his clothes and putting them on, he continued to gift her with kisses. A press of his lips to the tip of her nose, to her forehead, to her cheek. A faint flush stained his cheekbones, his hair practically standing on end. The soft green depths of his eyes sparkled with happiness.

His good mood should have been infectious, but with each sweet kiss, her spirits dimmed another notch. With each kiss she wondered if it would be her last from him. The last time she felt the warm press of his lips. The last time she could take a deep, full breath of him.

The seventh night. It always defined the end. Never before had she been tempted to remain at Rubicon’s longer than one week. But where relief usually resided was now an aching void that grew larger by the second, threatening to encompass her entire chest.

“Why so glum?” he asked, slipping his arms into his tan waistcoat.

“I’m not glum.”

“But there’s no smile. And no, that one won’t do,” he added at her failed attempt.

He cupped the back of her head. A whisper-light kiss, then his lips drifted down her neck to her breast. Hot and wet, his tongue trailed over her nipple as a large hand drifted up her inner thigh, a light, ticklish touch.

Giggling, she swatted his hand away.

“Much better,” he declared with a satisfied nod before turning his attention to the buttons on his waistcoat.

As he stopped by the bed to grab his cravat from the floor, he stole another kiss. “May I see you tomorrow?”

There wasn’t a bit of doubt in his question. He spoke as though he was confident in her answer, but he had asked nonetheless. She adored that about him—he never demanded or assumed. He actually cared about her wishes.

He placed the long length of white linen about his neck, adjusting it under his collar, his full attention on her.

She wanted to remain here forever with him, but knew she could not. He had a life beyond these walls that did not include her. She was well aware of it, even if she had chosen to ignore it these past few nights. After years of being with men who cared only for themselves, who only saw her as a beautiful object of pleasure, was it so wrong to savor these precious moments with James? To have the sun set without dread falling over her. To indulge in a glimpse of the happiness she could never have.

But it was a glimpse and nothing more. Nor could it be more. Their time needed to come to an end, and now was its natural conclusion.

She pushed up to a seated position. That aching void now filling her chest, she shook her head. “No.”

Her refusal echoed in the room, hanging in the air between them.

Confusion and shock flickered across on his handsome face before comprehension settled over his features. His fingers stilled. All traces of happiness drained away, and the sight made her want to snatch back the refusal. To leap off the bed, throw her arms around his neck, press her lips to his, and reassure him that she had not meant it at all. Yet she moved not a muscle.