Part 4 (2/2)

Fiona did not like losing. ”Everything you do is my concern. We are married.”

”Not for long. The second I reach London, I will see what can be done with this mess.”

Fiona shot him a look from beneath her lashes. ”The marriage cannot be set aside. I have already told

you that.”

Jack quirked a brow at her. ”You aren't always right.”

”I know that,” she said with some asperity, ”but even you must admit that I am right more often than

not.” He smiled suddenly, a spontaneous, lopsided grin that stole Fiona's breath. ”You haven't changed a bit.”

If there was one danger in her current plan, it was that she might succ.u.mb to Jack's attractions. Then there would be nothing but heartbreak, and she'd already had enough of that. ”You are biting your lip again.” His eyes glinted. ”I am going to tell you why that gesture is so erotic, but I warn you, it's quite reprehensible.” ”Anything that involves you tends in that direction.” His lips twitched, but he replied easily enough, ”When you bite your lip, it makes me think of all the other things you could do with your mouth.”

”Oh.” Like eat and kiss and-”Oh.” Her cheeks burned, yet she was also a bit intrigued. Jack had always had that effect on her. He could embarra.s.s and tantalize all in the same breath. But perhaps this was useful information. The time might come when she'd need to seduce him- especially if he proved recalcitrant about performing his ”husbandly duties” once they reached London. Which he might be, if he had a mistress. Fiona pressed her lips together to keep from scowling. She had never been very good at sharing her things, and she was certain she'd be quite possessive about a husband.

”You have lost some of your pins.” Jack picked up two from the folds of her gown and held them out to her. ”Your hair is so long. Longer than the last time I saw you.”

”It's almost to my waist.” She made a face. ”I have thought of getting it cut.”

”I love a woman with long hair.”

”You love all women, long hair or no.” She sniffed, tackling an unruly curl near her temple.

He sent her a roguish wink. ”At this moment, I especially love women with long brown hair and green eyes.”

”Oh, just stop it.”

”Stop what?” he asked, all innocence.

”Stop flirting. With you, every sentence is an offer.”

He leaned back against the squabs, his thigh sliding over to press against hers. ”And with you, every sentence is a challenge.”

She didn't know how to answer that. If she replied, it would confirm his comment. If she didn't say a word, she left a wealth of sharp retorts unsaid.

He flipped up one corner of the leather curtain and glanced briefly out into the racing darkness. ”We're entering London. It's almost two in the morning.” He settled back in his corner, his leg moving against hers once more. ”I like traveling fast.”

She glanced to her other side. It would be cold to lean all the way into the corner, for the night air was seeping from every seam. She supposed she would have to accept his leg against hers. At least there was a good deal of clothing between them-her chemise, petticoats, gown, and cloak. Jack was wearing breeches and...She looked at his legs. What else? Could he be naked beneath his breeches? They seemed molded to him, outlining the powerful lines of his thighs and the swell just above- Oh, G.o.d. She closed her eyes. She'd been looking at his-Not only was it rude, but it had sent an amazing tingle through her, almost as if she'd touched it.

”Fiona, if you ever look at me like that again, I will not be held responsible for what I do.” Jack was so close that she could feel his breath on her temple. ”Do you understand?”

Fiona managed a jerky nod, relieved when he moved back.

Jack from a distance she could deal with. Jack in the close carriage, his thigh a mere inch from hers...the memories were too bright, too raw. She'd been young and impetuous, and fortunate that nothing more had come of their brief liaison than some uncomfortably vivid memories.

She cleared her throat. ”I was just rememberingus. ”

”I think of us, too.”

She blinked at him. ”I didn't think you would.”

He sent her a darkly amused glance. ”No? How could I not? You were my first.”

”That's impossible. You already had a mistress! Alexander said she wasn't your first one, either.”

”So I have your brother to thank for that slip of the tongue, eh? Remind me to thank him properly when I see him.”

”I would have found out anyway.”

Jack didn't argue. ”Yes, but you were special; my first virgin.”

Embarra.s.sment flooded through her, and she fixed her gaze on the tips of her half boots where they peeped out from beneath her skirts. If only she were something as simple as a slipper that did not have feelings or memories or anything else so uncomfortable.

She frowned a bit. Shoes really did lead the perfect life. They were polished and taken care of and not expected to do anything more painful than occasionally step in a bit of mud or a rare puddle. She'd wager her shoes never wished they could just disappear.

Fiona looked at her hands, the hem of her pelisse, the seat opposite, anywhere but at him. ”My goodness, it is certainly warmer here than in the countryside, isn't it?”

”Yes.” He stretched out his legs so that his thigh pressed even more firmly against hers. ”It is much warmer.”

She snuck a look at him. When had his eyes grown so hard, so intense? Though he did not scowl, his entire stance still spoke of an undercurrent of bitter anger. Some part of her had hoped that he'd accept the circ.u.mstances of their marriage and not struggle against fate. That had been a vain hope.

She sighed. ”When will we arrive?” ”Soon. We stopped to change horses in Barnet, so they're fairly fresh.” ”Barnet? I don't remember changing horses there.” ”We stopped while you were sleeping. I told your man-” ”He has a name,” she said shortly. ”It would be more polite if you'd use that rather than calling him 'your man.'”

Jack's brows lowered. ”You aren't one of those reformer women, are you?”

”The only thing I wish to reform is your poor manners.”

Jack looked incredulous. ”My what?”

<script>