His eyes were drawn to those hands. They had been clasped on her lap for the entire leg of the journey since their break. She didn’t want to secretly hold hands with him again, like they had been doing before.
His frown deepened. Was she conflicted about what she had experienced in those woods? Was she ashamed of it, even though he had tried to reassure her that it was natural and normal?
He sighed heavily, turning his face away. He had no experience with innocent maidens at all. The women who he had affairs with were all well-practised in the art of love. Their physical release was welcome and wanted and didn’t make them feel shame. He had no idea at all how to approach such a thing.
It was yet another reason he should just leave her alone. He knew it. They were not well suited. Delia Parker was a romantic young woman who probably wanted to save herself for marriage. Whereas he was a man who just wanted to indulge in casual love affairs with no strings attached. They were like chalk and cheese.
He took a deep breath. He shouldn’t be wishing there was another delay. The sooner this trip was over, and he was out of this torture, the better. It would fade with time. It simply must. One day, this trip would be just a distant memory, and he would wonder why he had ever longed for her so much. Or so he kept telling himself, as the coach struggled on against the wind and snow.
***
Delia gazed out the window, watching the snowy maelstrom outside. She had never experienced such a frenzy before. Winters in Surrey were not like this. It snowed, but gradually, in a sedate way. She had heard it was much colder and the weather far more intense in the North of the country. It seemed that it was true.
The coach had slowed down to a crawl as it battled against the weather. She almost felt sorry for the devil of a coachman. For it was night now, and the combination of the snowstorm and the darkness must be difficult to navigate. The thought of the raging storm and the coachman battling against the elements was almost enough to distract her from Ambrose sitting next to her and what had happened to her against the tree in the woods.
Almost. But not quite.
She felt a thrill travel down the length of her spine at the thought of that amazing, incredible experience. Her body had seemed to have a mind entirely of its own, leading her to that extraordinary place, which surely must be akin to heaven.
She glanced down at Ambrose’s strong hand resting on the seat between them. That hand had led her body through the experience. That hand had coaxed and cajoled her body into that magic. The thought of how he had caressed her and suckled her at the same time was making her want it all over again. She felt like she was glowing from his touch, setting her aflame, illuminating her from within.
Was it shameful?
She frowned. She was very ignorant of the intimate things that occurred between a man and a woman. She had always believed it was meant for marriage. She had dreamt of being kissed passionately by a suitor but not much else. For she had never known that the extreme pleasure she had felt was even possible. She had never known that her body was even capable of it.
She knew now. Oh, how she knew.
The thought of never experiencing it again with him was agony. The thought that they were going to go their separate ways once this trip was finally over was incomprehensible at this point. And yet, that was what was going to occur. When this coach finally stopped in Bradford, they would say farewell and probably never see each other again.
He was never going to touch or kiss her again.
The thought filled her with anguish. But it wasn’t only that. She had come to always relish his presence. While he was sitting beside her in the coach, at the inns…everywhere. He made her feel safe and looked after. He had helped her when she had thought she had lost her bag of coins and offered to pay for her. It was hard being alone, navigating this strange new world she found herself in, and his presence was a balm against that.
Once she was in Bradford, she would be alone again, battling this world and the strange new life she would be forced to lead. A life she had chosen but wasn’t prepared for. And he wouldn’t be at her side any longer. He would be going on with his own life as if they had never met.
How was it possible?
She sighed heavily, feeling sick at heart at the thought of it. She wanted him by her side. It wasn’t just about the powerful physical connection between them. He was a good man—a driven, clever man. He had a magnetic presence that had lured her in right from the start.
He was a man she would be proud to call her husband.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, she pushed it away. It was a dangerous thought. For she knew that it simply wasn’t possible. In another world, it may have been feasible. If she was still Lady Cordelia Pelham, and he was a gentleman she had met in Surrey instead of a Northern industrialist. But that was pure fantasy.
For she was not Lady Cordelia Pelham any longer, and he was a Northern industrialist. She was on the run, pretending to be someone else. It was no time to indulge herself in a doomed love affair. He was a man who wasn’t interested in love or marriage.
They were just two people who had met by chance on a coach. They were never destined to be anything more to each other….
Suddenly, the coach lurched, pulling over to the side of the road. It was so abrupt they almost fell off their seats. Delia gazed fearfully out the window. She could just make out dim lights through the furious swirl of white.
The coachman was at the door, pulling it open. A breath of frigid wind and snow burst into the carriage.
The man’s face was grim. “We are going to have to stop,” he said in an abrupt voice. “Apart from the fact I can barely see two feet in front of me, the road ahead is completely snowed in.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “Luckily for all of you, we are near an inn. They will have rooms.”
“How long?” asked Mr Giles solemnly.
The coachman shrugged. “There’s no telling. In a storm like this, it could be days. Even if we can clear the road, it will fill again just as quickly. Pray that it stops overnight. We will see what it is like in the morning.”
Delia’s heart was beating erratically. Another delay which might be days. Days to fill in which she would have to think about how to manage her attraction to Ambrose once again. Dangerous days that could mean the difference between walking away from him with her heart intact or firmly shackled to him, once and for all. How was she going to manage it?