Chapter Twelve
Hawk checked his timepiece and swallowed the last of the barely passable warm ale. Lizzie should have finished her bath, and the dinner for the two of them would arrive shortly. The entire hour he’d sat in the common room, he’d been plagued with visions of Lizzie in her bath.
Lizzie with slick, naked skin.
Lizzie with water dripping from her nipples. Were they deep rose, pale pink, or dark brown?
Lizzie leaning back, her breasts thrust forward as she dipped her silky hair into the water.
Bloody hell, if he kept this up he would be unable to walk from the room with any sense of dignity.
Now that he knew her real identity, and she’d gone from his cousin’s employee to a young, unmarried lady of the peerage, all the naughty thoughts he’d had about her no longer needed to be suppressed. On the other hand, because she was an unmarried innocent lady of the peerage, he still needed to keep his hands off.
After tapping lightly, he opened the door to their room. The tub sat in the center of the space. Her satchel lay open, with clothing spilled from it, but his eyes were immediately drawn to Lizzie standing in the middle of the room. A fine pale rose embroidered silk wrapper covered a matching nightgown. Her still-damp hair had been worked into a plait that hung down her back. Small toes stuck out from under the hem of her gown.
Bloody hell, but what that little bit of naked skin did to him.
She glanced down to her feet and quickly bent to tug on slippers.
It didn’t help. His cock stood at attention, ready to charge forward.
“Dinner should be here any minute.” He managed to get the words out despite his dry mouth and raging erection. “Won’t you sit, and I’ll check on it.” He had to get out of that room before he did something stupid.
Before he could escape, there was a knock on the door. Grateful for the distraction, he breathed a sigh of relief as one of the strapping lads carried in a large tray. “Just set it down there.” Hawk pointed to the small table in the sitting room. As far away from the bed as he could get.
Once the youth left, Hawk waved at the table, and Lizzie took a seat. They shared the savory mutton stew, warm bread, and apple cake in silence. Lizzie fidgeted throughout the meal, and he wasn’t sure of the cause. Was it them alone together in a bedchamber, or what she faced with the summons from the Home Office?
“My lord, have you responded to the Home Office’s request for my presence?”
He smiled inwardly. Them alone with her dressed in a nightgown, and a bed nearby, was not her top concern after all.
“I have not. I was still considering what to do when I realized you had left Wycliff.” He wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on the table. “I want to get you to Hawkins Manor where I can do a much better job of protecting you, and then I will write to the Home Office and think of a reason why I can’t bring you in right away.”
Her stiffened countenance relaxed at his words. “You mentioned there might be a connection between the severed saddle girth and the Home Office?”
“Yes.” He wondered how much to tell her. He needed to impress upon her that she was in danger but didn’t want to reveal too much of his concerns about the Home Office. He was under orders from the Secretary and needed to handle the situation with aplomb, lest he compromise their investigation. “What connection I cannot say right now because I am still trying to figure it out.”
Lizzie nodded slowly, and Hawk realized how very tired she must be. “I think it would be best if you had a good night’s sleep. It has been a long and stressful day, and we have many miles between us and Hawkins Manor.”
She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Yes, I believe so.” She moved to stand and stopped midway, her eyes wide. “Where will you sleep?”
He gestured toward the bed in the next room. “You will sleep on the bed, and I will sleep right here.” He patted the sofa.
Lizzie eyed it dubiously. “That is hardly large enough for you. It will be quite uncomfortable.”
Hawk raised his eyebrows. “Are you inviting me to share your bed, my lady?”
Her cheeks flushed, and he swore he saw something in her eyes that had him wondering if the same ideas he’d had earlier were in her thoughts, as well. Her chin came up with all the haughtiness only a young lady of the ton could display. “Certainly not!” With a sweep of her dressing gown, she turned and left the room, head held high.
Hawk chuckled as she closed the door between the rooms with a firm snap. He sat still, listening to the rustle of her dressing gown being removed, then her slippers dropping to the floor. Within seconds, the sound of the rope mesh under the mattress squeaked as Lizzie climbed into bed.
Blast his perfect hearing!
A good strong drink was just what he needed to be able to sleep. Maybe two. Or three. He strode across the floor and headed down the stairs as if the demons of hell were at his heels.
…
Lizzie cocked her head at the sound of Hawk leaving the sitting room and hurrying down the stairs. She was sure he was going for a drink, which was precisely what she needed. A nice glass of sherry would help her relax since all her earlier fatigue had vanished.
She might be an innocent, but the look on Hawk’s face when he’d walked into the room and saw her standing there in her nightgown brought tingles to her breasts. His perusal had gone from the top of her head to her bare toes. Why she thought pulling on her slippers would cover her more was comical.
Lying on her back, her hands folded on top of the counterpane, she went over the happenings of the day. She’d only traveled about two miles on the stagecoach when she realized what a mistake she’d made. Running had helped her once, but Hawk was not the type of man to let her go. He’d been commissioned by the Home Office to bring her in for questioning, and even if he hadn’t decided what to do yet, he would certainly not shrug it off if she disappeared once more.
Every time she thought about Wycliff’s cousin, her stomach fluttered. Her breathing increased, and parts of her body called to her to do something. Or permit Hawk to do something. Even though she was by herself, in the dark, she still blushed at those thoughts.
What would it be like to have Hawk kiss her again? To have his large, strong hands on her body, caressing, stroking, drawing her against him. When he’d pulled her into his arms for that kiss in the carriage, his engorged manhood had been visible in his pantaloons. He’d been aroused, and that she could affect a man as worldly as Lord Hawkins, who had taken any number of beautiful and experienced women to bed, was exciting indeed.
She turned and flopped onto her stomach, resting her chin on her laced fingers. He was, of course, a gentleman, but what would she do if he tried to seduce her? She snorted. If he was as skilled as they said he was, she would, most likely, succumb.
That was a frightening and exhilarating thought! She flipped onto her back. If she didn’t stop thinking about Lord Hawkins, she would never get to sleep, and tomorrow would be a tiresome day riding together in the carriage.
Together in the carriage! Her heartbeat quickened.
She was thinking quite foolishly. A man like Lord Hawkins, who could have any woman he wanted—heavens, they were forever falling at his feet. Why would he be interested in an overlooked debutante—with the scandal of being a traitor to the crown looming over her?
She fluffed up her pillow, punched it down again, then moved onto her side and refused to budge from that spot until she was fast asleep.
Sometime later, Lizzie was awakened by the sound of footsteps treading carefully across the room. Frightened that it was someone who wanted to cause her harm, she remained very still, and through narrowed eyelids watched as the figure drew near. Pale moonlight filtered through the window, providing just enough illumination for her to see Hawk approach her bed and stop right next to it.
Lizzie held her breath as he just stared at her. Then he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and bending low, kissed her on the forehead, the scent of brandy wafting over her. He turned and left the room.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Hawk’s deep voice interrupted her dream, right when he was about to kiss her. She opened her eyes to see him grinning, fully dressed, his hair still damp from his bath. “I want to get started early. The inn ostler tells me the private carriage I ordered is ready.”
Without thinking, Lizzie tossed off the covers. Once the cool air hit her bare legs, she realized her nightgown had ridden up to the very top of her thighs. She sat up, whisking the garment down, blushing at Hawk’s smoldering glance. “I will be ready shortly. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Hawk shook his head, as if clearing it. “Ah, yes. Certainly. Downstairs.” He turned on his heels, then stopped when he reached the door. “The innkeeper’s wife has packed food so we can break our fast on the road to save time. As soon as you join me, I will have one of his sons fetch your satchels and load them onto the carriage.”
Lizzie nodded and scrambled off the bed. Her face—and body—still burned from Hawk’s casual perusal of her in her scant nightclothes, with her legs bare. She hurriedly dressed, again pleased that her gowns didn’t require a lady’s maid since she’d had them made for a governess.
The day was damp and dreary, but so far, no rain had fallen that would impede their travel. Lizzie accepted Hawk’s hand as she stepped into the carriage, shivering from the dampness. She settled herself, and he climbed in after her. Reaching under his seat, Hawk pulled out a lap robe, which he handed to her. Grateful for the extra warmth, she spread it over her body. The luggage was strapped onto the back of the coach, and they set off.
Shortly afterward, Lizzie broke out the food and tea the innkeeper’s wife had sent. She and Hawk chatted amiably about general things while they consumed cheese, cold meat, apples, and fresh bread. The tea wasn’t hot, but she still enjoyed it.
Once the remaining food had been packed away, Lizzie drew in a deep breath and faced Hawk, her hands placed in her lap. “Tell me about my father’s death.”
Hawk did not look surprised, which was unexpected. Or perhaps his years of working with the Home Office had trained him to hide his reactions. “This might not be a conversation for a lady.”
“He was my father. I ask not as a lady, but as a daughter. Society only knew him as Lord Loverly, and then eventually as ‘that traitor.’ To me he was a devoted father, who showered me with love and attention after my mother died when I was a mere three years.”
Hawk shook his head, as if he still did not want to speak on the matter, but Lizzie was adamant. Her voice thickening, she asked, “Please, my lord, I want to know. Did he suffer? Was he repentant at the end? What happened that His Grace found it necessary to shoot him?”