Part 13 (2/2)
”I don't know,” she answered truthfully, ”but I look forward to finding out.”
He chuckled and tucked her arm within his. They strolled up the walkway and entered the house.
Inside the foyer, a line of footmen staggered up the stairs with their burdens. Jack shook his head ruefully. ”My dear, I fear there is nothing left to purchase in London.”
”I think you're right. We shall have to wait a week before our next foray so the shops can restock.” Fiona turned to one of the mirrors that lined the foyer and looked twice to be certain it was really her. A bronze pelisse covered her new walking gown and set off her hair and eyes admirably. Her hair was no longer so unruly but had been cut and styled a la Sappho. Lovely ruby ear bobs sparkled on either side of her face, and new half boots adorned her feet. Jack had been insistent about buying her a goodly number of boots, all made of the softest leather.
She relinquished her pelisse to a waiting footman, then reached up to untie the ribbons on her bonnet.
”Allow me,” Jack said, his eyes meeting hers as his hands brushed her neck.
A loud snore erupted. Jack glanced over his shoulder. ”What the-”
Hamish was propped up on a chair beside the library door, his booted feet planted wide, his chin sunk on his none-too-clean s.h.i.+rt.
Fiona smiled fondly at him. ”When did he arrive?”
Devonsgate sighed. ”Right after you left, my lady. He refused to leave the foyer, though I suggested he might be more comfortable in the kitchen, near the fire.”
”b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Jack said, looking grim. ”As big as he is, his snore is larger.”
”Shall I wake him, my lord?”
Hamish, stirred by the voices around him, s.h.i.+fted and began to snore even more loudly than before.
Jack gritted his teeth. ”Devonsgate, will you at least throw a tablecloth over him? I cannot abide having to look atthat every time I come and go.”
”I shall see what can be done, my lord.”
”Thank you,” Jack said, wondering how much Fiona's brothers had to do with Hamish's appearance. Probably everything. They probably thought his lack of activity for the last two days was a result of their little ”talk.”
Jack stiffened.That was unacceptable. He glanced at the clock. The day had flown by, and with the encroaching darkness, a faint restlessness overtook him.
”Jack?”
He turned to find Fiona smiling up at him, a question in her eyes.
She'd read his unease. He forced a smile. ”I'm tired from our excursion. Are you?”
Fiona shrugged. ”A bit. I was hoping you might take me to the British Museum tomorrow.”
”I would be delighted.” He glanced at her from beneath his lashes, his gaze lingering on her new boots.
He liked the way they fitted about her neat ankles, the leather so soft. Perhaps...
Jack captured Fiona's hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
”Where are we going?”
”To our bedchamber to unpack.”
”But the servants will-”
He glanced over his shoulder, a gleam in his eyes.
Her breath caught, color blooming in her cheeks. ”Oh! Yes. I-I suppose we should unpack at least a few of the boxes.”
”Just as I thought.” They had reached the landing.
”No sense making the servants do all the work.”
”Exactly.” They were almost running down the hall.
”One should always straighten up after oneself.”
”I couldn't agree more.” He threw open the door and kicked it shut behind them. The key clicked loudly in the quiet.
He picked Fiona up and carried her to the bed, her arms slipping around his neck. This time, when he left for the night, he would make certain she was fully satisfied and deeply asleep. That was why he was there-for that reason and no other.
Jack bent and captured her lips, halting all further discussion, all further thought. For now, he had better things to do.
Much later, Jack quietly pulled on his breeches, then paused by the bed to pick up his boots. Fiona lay sleeping deeply, her chest rising and falling, her lips parted, her hair mussed from their lovemaking.
The bed was warm; the sheets carried her scent. The urge to rejoin her was almost overwhelming. Jack clenched his jaw and turned away.
It was disconcerting, the ease with which he fit into her life, and she into his. But that was only because this was temporary. If they had to face being bound for life, neither of their tempers would have fared so well.
Jack finished dressing and paused by the bed to tuck the sheets around her. She smiled in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the pillows. He had to fight the oddest urge to smooth her hair, though he could not resist placing a light kiss on her forehead.
She murmured his name in a way that made his blood simmer. It was a reflex, he told himself firmly.
Nothing more.
He turned and left, closing the door behind him. At the bottom of the stairs, Hamish still slept in his chair, the footmen eyeing him nervously. Gesturing for them to be silent, Jack quietly walked across the thick carpet. He'd just reached the front door when Hamish spoke. ”Where are ye going?”
Jack sighed. ”You're awake. Finally.”
Hamish stretched, the chair creaking beneath him. He scratched under one arm, regarding Jack with an unfavorable glare. ”Ye haven't answered me. Where are ye going?”
”That is none of your business.”
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