Delia quickly looked out the window, trying desperately not to laugh again. He was teasing her, of course. She actually rather liked him, in addition to being racked by physical desire for him. Mr Ambrose Hartfield was an impressive man.
Her leg bumped against his again. She dared look over at him. He was staring at her hands clasped firmly in her lap, looking like he was in a trance. She felt a lurch of longing so intense that her mouth went dry, and her heart started beating like a hammer.
It was only the beginning of this long trip. How was she going to handle this for days? Perhaps she might have to ask if she could change seats with someone. But the thought of not being close to him was just as torturous as being close to him. It was a conundrum. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to deal with it at all.
Chapter 11
The coach lumbered on into the night. The passengers grew silent, all of them weary. Delia felt her head falling forward and the lure of sleep irresistible. Suddenly, she was in the midst of a dream. A very odd dream….
She was walking in a field of daisies. It wasn’t winter any longer. She felt the sun on her shoulders and was peering into a vivid blue sky. The wind lifted her hair off her face, and she breathed deeply, taking in the scent of wildflowers.
She stopped walking, looking around. She had no idea where she was or how she had come to be here. She was all alone. Panic filled her breast, and she started running, tripping in her haste. There was nothing but daisies as far as the eye could see.
“Papa?” she called, fear gripping her. “Minnie?”
But no one answered. She realised she was utterly alone and those that she loved were gone. She kept walking, stumbling towards a river. She didn’t know why she had to go there, only that she must. Fear was threatening to overtake her.
When she reached the water, she stopped abruptly. There was something in the water. Something that she was drawn to, but she had no idea what it was. Hesitantly, she leaned forward, peering in. There was nothing. The only thing she could see was her own reflection gazing back at her.
But then, to her horror, the features on her face started to change and blur. Her face was no longer her own. It started to turn into Minnie’s face. Stunned, she kept watching the water, shaking her head. How was it possible?
Who was she?
Slowly, the reflection changed again. Now, her own face was reappearing. Her hands flew to her face, feeling her nose and lips and eyes.
She was real. She still existed.
A shadow loomed over her. She turned, her heart beating wildly. A tall, dark-haired swarthy man was standing there gazing at her. He didn’t say a word.
She knew who he was. She recognised him instantly. The dashing man she had just met. Ambrose Hartfield.
He held out his hand to her. She shuddered. She didn’t know why, but she was compelled to take it. The second their skin connected, she felt a strange jolt from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
She wanted to pull away. But she couldn’t. His eyes were drawing her in. Those eyes were so dark, she couldn’t see the depths of them.
It was as if he had cast a spell over her. She watched as he pulled her towards him. It happened very slowly. Suddenly, she was standing so close to him that she felt his warm breath against her face.
“Who are you?” he whispered. “Truly, who are you?”
She couldn’t answer. Her breath seemed to have been snatched from her entirely. She was so conscious of his body so close to hers that it was overwhelming. Strange thrills of sensation were tingling within her. She felt her nipples harden.
Slowly, he lifted her arm. She noticed that it was bare, without a glove. He bent his head to it, kissing down the length of it until he reached her hand. The tingling intensified with every kiss. She moaned with pleasure, unable to pull away, even though she knew it wasn’t proper.
And then, he raised her hand. Slowly, he sucked on each finger one after the other. The tingling was overwhelming now. She was so aroused that her knees buckled beneath her.
They were falling together onto the field. She was lying in his arms, and he was stroking her body—long, lingering strokes of possession. She felt like she was sinking into ecstasy. A most shocking ecstasy….
Delia opened her eyes. To her alarm, her head was leaning against the shoulder of Mr Hartfield. She realised she must have slumped against him while she was sleeping.
“I am so very sorry,” she whispered, jolting upright, her heart beating painfully.
He grinned at her, his dark eyes teasing. “There is no need to apologise, Miss Parker. I am not going to complain when a beautiful woman sleeps upon my shoulder.”
Delia blushed fiercely. She was very glad that it was so dark within the coach that he couldn’t see her face properly. And then, the memory of her strange dream came rushing back into her mind.
Oh, my Lord, she thought, feeling like she was about to faint. I have had the most shocking dream about him. The most intimate dream. How could I?
She could still feel that tingling. She realised that her body had actually felt what she had experienced in that dream. He had touched her in the dream, and her body had been responding in real life. All this happened while he sat next to her, completely oblivious as to what was unfolding in her mind.