Free Slightly Wicked by Mary Balogh Page B

had indulged in two energetic bouts of sex after returning from the shops—on clean sheets, he had observed. They had slept a while and then dined in private. She had acted the parts of Viola and Desdemona for him. And then she had noticed the sunset.
    It was getting late. Time was running out, and he felt regret that he could not pursue their affair until it reached its natural conclusion, perhaps in a few days, perhaps not for a week or longer.
    She sighed and turned her head to look at him. He kissed her. He liked the way she kissed, relaxing her mouth, opening it for him, responding to him without demanding mastery. She tasted of wine even though she had drunk only one glass this evening.
    It was while he was kissing her that he conceived his idea. His brilliant idea. His
obvious
idea.
    “I am coming with you tomorrow,” he said, lifting his head.
    “What?” She gazed back at him, heavy-eyed.
    “I am coming with you,” he repeated.
    “On the stagecoach?” She frowned.
    “I’ll hire a private carriage,” he said. “There must be one available here somewhere. We will travel in comfort. We—”
    “But your friends,” she said.
    “They will not send out any search parties,” he told her. “They do not even know exactly when to expect me. I’ll come with you to York. I have a burning desire to see you act on a real stage with other actors. And we are not finished with each other yet. Are we?”
    She stared at him. “Oh, no,” she said. “I could not so inconvenience you. A private carriage would cost a fortune.”
    “My purse is fat enough,” he said.
    She shook her head slowly, and he had a sudden thought.
    “Is there someone waiting for you?” he asked her. “Another man?”
    “No.”
    “Anyone else, then?” he asked. “Anyone who is likely to be offended by my accompanying you?”
    “No.”
    But she continued the slow head shaking. He considered another rather lowering possibility.
    “
Are
we finished with each other?” he asked her. “Or will we be after one more night together? Will you be glad to be free again and on your way alone tomorrow?”
    The head shaking continued, he was relieved to see.
    “I want more of you, Claire,” he said. “More of your body, more of
you
. I want to see you act. I will not stay forever, only for a week or so until we are both satisfied. You are an independent woman who does not like to be tied to one man—I can see that. I am a man who enjoys brief affairs and then is content to move on. But tomorrow is too soon. Besides, you really cannot be looking forward to climbing into a stagecoach again and taking your place beside another bony holy man.”
    Her head was still. For a moment she half smiled.
    “Tell me you want more of me,” he said, moving his mouth closer to hers.
    “I want more of you.”
    “Then it is settled.” He kissed her swiftly. “We will leave here together tomorrow. I will come to York and see you act. We will spend a few more days in each other’s company, perhaps a week. Maybe longer. As long as it takes.”
    She half smiled again and touched her fingertips to his cheek.
    “That would be very lovely,” she said.
    He set his hand over hers and kissed her palm. Who would have thought yesterday morning when he left Aidan’s, bound for Grandmaison, that he was riding straight into the arms of a new mistress and a hot affair? He had cursed the mud and the threatening rain, but both had turned into blessings.
    “Ready for bed?” he asked.
    She nodded.
    He was feeling rather weary. Four times last night and twice this afternoon had taken some toll on his stamina and doubtless on hers too. But now tonight need not be as frantic as he had expected. They need not stay awake all night, taking full advantage of every moment. They had days and nights ahead of them, as many as they needed.
    “Come, then.” He took her hand again and led her in the direction of the bedchamber. “We’ll enjoy long, slow lovemaking and then sleep,