Standing in this lovely, warm room, with his huge chest at her back, and his muscled arm clamping her to him, she felt secure in a way she never had at the school. That might have been her sanctuary, but bricks and mortar didn’t wipe away silent tears in the night. Maids she had befriended found new positions, others looked down on her because of her illegitimacy. Lady Farringdon’s charity had always come with numerous strings attached. Sometimes it had been difficult to remain cheerful, yet if she’d succumbed to her fears and doubts and sadness, it might well have been impossible to climb back out of that particular abyss.
How odd, that in the solid embrace of a man she had just met, she could be both tamed and free.
“What are you thinking about?”
Arran’s low, rough words, accompanied by another marvelous nip to her neck jolted her from her thoughts, and she managed to wriggle directly against the huge bulge of his erection. His breath hissed between his teeth and this time she smiled, for it seemed that even when she surrendered completely, she still held power. “Ummm. I’m not sure if I should say,” she demurred.
“Tell me,” he said, kissing the back of her neck and making her shiver.
“Oh, very well. I’m thinking…I’m thinking about how safe I feel.”
Arran froze, and Rachel wanted to sink into the floorboards. Why had she blurted out the truth? Why couldn’t she have said something playful or seductive? Then his free hand moved, cupping her left breast and tweaking her swollen nipple, and she cried out at the delicious sting that all too briefly eased the ache.
“Did that feel good?” he rasped.
“So good,” she panted, both confused and incredibly aroused by his action.
“You pleased me.”
Oh.
“Because…I told you the truth?” Rachel said hesitantly.
“Yes. I’m glad you feel safe. I want you to feel safe, and to tell me at once if you do not, or if there is something you do not like. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, only to moan and buck against him when he tweaked her nipple again, firmer this time.
“Good. I—”
A knock at the door interrupted whatever Arran was about to say, and Rachel wanted to stomp her foot in sheer frustration when he let her go and stepped back.
“Should I answer?” she asked unsteadily, her mind still awhirl.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, with a rueful smile and quick glance downward. “I’ll just wait behind the screen.”
Rachel nodded, and hurried over to the door. She lifted the latch and wrenched it open to find Mrs. Vine, two maids, and a burly footman. The women held trays of food and drink which they set down on the table, and the footman lugged a large bucket of steaming hot water and an armful of extra wood for the fireplace.
“Oh, thank you,” said Rachel, forcing herself to smile at them all. “Mr. Elliott and I are both grateful for your trouble. The food smells delicious.”
The innkeeper’s wife nodded. “It will be getting dark outside soon, ma’am. Tallow candles are on the tray, you can light them in the fireplace and put them into the iron holders there and over there. We wish you a nice evening, breakfast is served down in the dining hall from dawn, please put your trays out into the hallway when you are finished.”
And just as quickly as they had arrived, the efficient little group departed, leaving her and Arran alone again.
“Hungry?” he said, returning from behind the bathing screen.
“A little,” Rachel replied, and of course her stomach chose that moment to rumble so loudly it was a wonder the whole inn didn’t hear it.
His lips twitched. “Eat, madam. While it’s hot.”
“Will you dine with me? You could tell me a tale of Lincolnshire, and why you are so far from home.”
Arran hesitated, before settling himself at the table. She bustled about, confident at last performing tasks she’d done many times at the orphanage, buttering bread, ladling broth, and pouring him a tankard of ale.
“Thank you,” he said, giving her a quizzical look. “Your household didn’t have staff?”
Rachel inwardly cursed as she sat down. Not for the world did she want to ruin this evening by discussing the vast difference in their circumstances. “We, ah…fell on hard times. I had to become more proficient than I would like at serving food and tidying up. Just please don’t ask me to pluck a chicken.”
“On my honor, I promise never in our marriage to do so.”
She giggled and took several mouthfuls of wonderfully rich broth. It was hearty, with chunks of beef, carrots, and potatoes, thickened with barley, and warmed her to the tips of her toes. “Do your parents live in Lincolnshire, too? And your brothers and sisters?”
His shoulders went rigid. “Both my parents have passed. My brother also.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel replied, reaching out to take his hand. “Were you close with them?”
“To my brother, yes, although we were very different. But my parents…let’s just say we didn’t see eye to eye on most things. One decision they made on my behalf, I am quite furious about. What about you? Parents and siblings?”
She smiled, understanding the reply for what it was. His family were not to be discussed, and she could respect that stance with matters of her own she wouldn’t talk about. Like her illegitimacy. “No brothers or sisters. My parents have also both passed, but a long time ago.”
Arran squeezed her hand in return, and she blinked in surprise. Few people had shown her sympathy; a maid’s sorrows were rarely considered worthy of note. But not only had this gentleman shown kindness and consideration, he’d also been scrupulously courteous to everyone whatever their station,
