The carriage pulled into the mews of the Dog and Gun, and Nicholas removed his pocket watch to check the time.
“If we leave now, we’ll reach London by midnight.” His gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth and breasts. “Or we could go upstairs, eat and drink and make love until morning.”
Make love until morning?
Her heart thumped a wild beat as she imagined them stripping naked, imagined the feel of his hot body against her bare skin. He looked like he’d die if he didn’t have her. Like nothing in the world mattered but them finding their release together.
“What a dilemma,” she teased. “Sleep in a filthy carriage and have a crick in my neck for a week? Or spend a few hours being pleasured by the man I love?”
Nicholas gave a mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t be sleeping in this carriage. I doubt I could travel for eight hours and not touch you.”
“Then you have answered your own question,” she said, laughing. “Why choose one romantic interlude when I can have two?”
“Clever.” His blue eyes brightened, robbing her of rational thought. He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling her so close his breath breezed over her lips.
Then he kissed her.
Nicholas.
A rush of euphoria raced through her the instant their mouths met. His tongue slipped languidly over hers, once, twice, awakening the lustful urge to mate.
They couldn’t kiss each other deeply enough to satisfy the craving. Their desperate moans filled each other’s mouths. She wanted to crawl inside his body, stay close to him forever.
On a breathless pant, he pulled away. “We’ll not make love here when we can make love in bed. Come, before we reach the point of no return.”
He was out of the carriage in seconds, his hands settling on her waist and lifting her to the ground. Like an opium addict needing a quick dose, he stole another kiss before grabbing her hand and leading her into the inn and up the dark staircase.
“I need to be inside you, love,” he breathed, kissing her again when they reached the bedchamber door, so wild and urgent he didn’t break contact while fiddling with the doorknob.
They fell into the room.
Nicholas kicked the door closed.
She was pushing his coat off his shoulders when it dawned on her the door was unlocked.
Panic-stricken, she tore her mouth away and scanned the room.
Fear choked her when she spotted the arrogant man sitting in the chair, looking like Satan on a throne of bones.
“Lady Brompton is rather lax when it comes to chaperone duties,” Sebastian said calmly, though anger boiled below the surface. “Does she know her charge is being ravished by a scoundrel?”
“Sebastian!” She quickly straightened her pelisse.
“You look surprised to see me, Helen.” Sebastian fixed Nicholas with a penetrating stare before facing her. That’s when his tone turned as cold as an arctic frost. “You should have known better than to take me for a fool.”
“How did you f-find us?” she stuttered.
“I visited Hatton & Sons and discovered you were together and heading to Bedford. I knew you would seek a quieter inn, and this is the third establishment I’ve visited today.” He paused—the stillness tightening every muscle in her body. “Now, you will stay here while I speak to St Clair outside.”
What? So he could beat him to a pulp?
“You cannot tell me what to do,” she blurted. The need to fight her corner was like a fire in her belly. “I am past the age of majority. And none of this is Nicholas’ fault.”
“You’re unmarried, and you live under my roof. That makes you my responsibility. The only person at fault is the bastard who ruined you. Deny you spent the night together in this room. Deny he was minutes away from ruining you again.”
“It’s all right, Helen,” Nicholas said with surprising composure. He placed a reassuring hand on her arm before stepping forward.
“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” Sebastian growled.