There was a chill in the room and she rose from the bed to add wood to the fire to the burning embers, bringing the flames back to life. Had he gone to get more wood? It was running low, but she didn’t anticipate they’d be here much longer. She glanced to the door yet again. He had not returned. What if something happened to him? Should she go check to make sure he was alright?

  It was her fault he had gone. If she had only agreed to be his wife, on his terms, they would still be in bed and she would be learning all there was of what happened between a man and a woman. Instead, her body still ached, as if something more needed to be fulfilled and he was gone.

  “Blast,” she bit out and walked to the door. She would not relax until he was back inside. Did he now hate her so much that he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her? If so, then perhaps he hadn’t really loved her and it was the circumstances that made him speak the words. It was best they had talked or she would be ruined and have no choice but to marry him.

  Still, she couldn’t let him remain outside. It would be her fault if he became ill.

  She opened the door and stepped outside. A chill ran through her but she wasn’t about to return to the warmth of the fire until she found Jonathan. She crept around the side of the cottage and looked but he was not there. Why hadn’t she worn her boots? The ground was frigid against her bare feet.

  She walked to the other side and looked and stopped.

  Jonathan was leaning against the cottage. His blanket open, revealing his chest and long, muscular thighs. His fist clasped around his manhood. Goodness, it looked bigger than it had felt. His head was thrown back and his hand worked its way back and forth along the shaft. Had he needed to relieve himself? Yet, she suspected that his actions had nothing to do with a full bladder.

  Mesmerized she watched first his face. His jaw was tight with tension, eyes closed. His chest was spattered with dark blond hair and a trail ran from his stomach to the curls about his manhood. His fist continued to move, back and forth. His feet braced against the ground to support him. The tempo increased until he groaned and something shot out of the end.

  Jonathan sighed and relaxed back against the cottage, head down, his chin nearly touching his chest. He seemed to be breathing heavily and then pulled the blanket back around him and turned. Their eyes locked.

  Chapter 23

  Bloody hell, what was Geneviève doing out here and what had she seen? If she were shocked, it served her right for sneaking about. Yet, it was embarrassing. He hadn’t needed to take care of his own need in a very long time. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he took himself in hand. But, he was in pain and his arousal was not going to disappear anytime soon. Especially as long as she lay in that bed, naked beneath the blanket.

  When he stomped from the cottage he was filled with need, hurt by her rejection, and angry as well. He needed this release to gain control of one aspect of his emotions. Why did she come out here? “Go inside, Geneviève.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “What were you doing?”

  His face heated. “That is none of your concern.” He stomped toward her. “Get inside before you catch your death.” Grasping her arm through the blanket he led her back inside and stopped before the fire.

  “You’re angry.”

  Of course, he was angry and a million other emotions. What did she expect? He gave her pleasure, confessed his love, asked her to marry him and she turned him down. Who wouldn’t be angry and hurt?

  “Why?” She asked.

  Jonathan turned to her. “Surely you know the answer.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He simply stared at her. She was the most confusing woman. He would think she lacked intelligence but knew differently.

  “I don’t take rejection well.”

  Her mouth popped open. “It isn’t you who is being rejected but me?”

  “What?” he shouted. “You turned down my offer of marriage, not the other way around.”

  “You rejected me, which is worse.” She tramped across the room and sank into the chair.

  “I did no such thing. I love you. I want you to be my wife, where is the rejection in that?”

  She stood again facing him. “You want a wife to sit at your house, wait for your return, and probably have a nice dinner on the table. While you are working, leading a full life. What am I to do all day? Embroider until you decide to walk in the door?”

  “You have sisters, and other family members,” he reminded her again. “I am sure your days will be full.”

  She hitched a brow. “As in shopping and gossiping?”

  Heat infused his cheeks. It is basically what he expected. That is what all women did, didn’t they?

  “I’ll have you know that neither of my sisters will be available to enjoy such frivolous activities.” She blew out a breath and walked across the room, picking up her clothing. “Juliette has a school of ballet to manage, when Acker isn’t escorting her about town making sure she meets the right members of the ton before the grand announcement.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Please turn your back so I can dress.”

  With reluctance, Jonathan did so. He would love another glimpse of her glorious body but that would only make him want her more. Already his blood stirred for her and he had just found his bloody release outside. What was it about her? Of course, had he found it while buried deep inside Geneviève he might know some satisfaction. His hand was an empty substitute.

  “They also have an estate in the country where Ackers is required to be on occasion.”

  He could hear the rustle of clothing. Was she still naked or clothed?

  “Hélène is returning to the theatre. She will act and continue as a costume mistress at times while Stanwick is managing his club.”

  No wonder she wanted more. Her sisters were living unconventional lives and she was used to the same.

  “Thus, they both sleep well into the day.”

  There was a clunk of boots hitting the floor.

  “I’ll have you know that from the age of fourteen I managed my mother’s household. It is something I can do without much effort. I want more and you are not willing for me to have it. If you truly loved me, you would understand that.”

  Her words shouldn’t come as a shock to him, knowing what little he did of her family, but they did. She expected to be his partner, fully if they married. This would require her to be at the docks. “I would not see you in danger,” he finally said.

  “Where is the danger?” she demanded.

  Jonathan blew out a breath. “The docks, as you well know.”

  He could hear her booted feet on the floorboards as she came toward him. He should have put his clothing on while she dressed. Instead, he stood there like an idiot with the blanket wrapped around him.

  Geneviève came to stand before him, wagging a finger in his face. “I will have you know that I can take care of myself. I have for a very long time.”

  He was beginning to believe her, yet, that was not the image he had for his wife.

  He amended the thought. The image of his wife was the beautiful Geneviève but she didn’t work beside him in an office reviewing invoices, shipping orders, or any of the other various documents that crossed his desk on a daily basis. His wife waited at home and lived the life of leisure. She should be spoiled and loved. It was what Jonathan wanted.

  “I’ll wait outside while you dress.”

  “Wait.” She couldn’t walk out on him now. There was so much more to discuss. Somehow they would reach an agreement.

  “I would like to be alone for a moment.” Her words were quiet. He didn’t know if it was because she needed privacy for a more personal reason or she needed to be alone with her thoughts and emotions. Either way, he should give it to her.

  “I’ll hurry.”

  She gave a quick nod and walked outside, closing the door behind her.

  Jonathan grabbed his clothing and hurried to dress. The conversation was far from finished.

  Geneviève fought the tears that threatened to spill. Thank goodness she had kept control while with Jonathan. He thought little of her if he believed she would be content to fill the same wifely role of everyone else in society and she wouldn’t display further weakness by crying.

  Could he really love her and not understand what she needed.

  No, he couldn’t. It was the moments they shared that brought the words. They were in bed and had shared an intimacy. One she never imagined was even possible.

  In a normal setting, fully clothed, he would never have spoken the words. Perhaps he thought they were necessary because of the circumstances. She would have made love to him without any agreement. It wasn’t as if she planned on marrying anyway and now she knew for certain she never would. If Jonathan, who knew her better than anyone, wouldn’t allow her to be herself, then nobody would.

  She sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. It was best that she realize it before they were married and miserable. It was a good thing she and Rose were planning on taking a trip. It would keep her mind occupied and hopefully, her heart would heal. Geneviève just needed to locate a ship to take them far away, but not one owned by Bridges.

  The sound of horses drew near and she turned to look down the drive. Were the owners of the cottage returning, though she couldn’t believe anyone actually lived here? Hopefully, they wouldn’t mind that they had spent the night inside.

  Two riders emerged from the trees and relief shot through her when she recognized John and Elizabeth. Where had they been?

  The two stopped before her and dismounted.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” John demanded.

  Apparently, he hadn’t seen her slip into Bridges’ boat. “I followed the three of you last night.”

  “And jumped into my boat.”

  She turned to find Bridges, fully clothed and standing in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard the door open.

  “What happened to you?” Elizabeth asked.

  “We should go inside,” Bridges offered and stood back for them to enter. As he stirred the fire Geneviève quickly explained the events of the night before and until they arrived, leaving out the intimacies shared or the conversation between her and Bridges. As she finished she noted John glaring at Bridges.

  “Let me understand this,” John started. “After being forced to swim ashore, you found the cottage so that you could get warm.”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “What of your clothing? Did you dry them or remain in them all night?” He still was not looking at her but at Bridges.

  “We gave each other privacy and wrapped ourselves in blankets.” She glanced back at Jonathan. He looked none too happy either. “You are making far too much out of this.”

  John focused on her and hitched a brow. “Really? You were naked in a cottage all night with that man and you think I am making too much of this?”

  “He was a perfect gentleman. Do not make me regret telling you what happened.”

  John sighed. “Geneviève, I understand that you don’t see a problem because as you say, he behaved a gentleman, but none of that matters.”

  “Of course it does,” she argued.

  “You were alone, all night, which calls your virtue into question. If anyone would learn, you would be ruined.”

  “Only if you tell someone,” she reminded him. “Can I not trust you in this?” She turned to Elizabeth. “Will you be discussing it with anyone?”

  “Of course not,” she said, shooting an irritated look to her husband. “And neither will John.”

  He turned on his wife. “What?”

  “I said, you will tell no one. If anyone should ask, we were all together, all night.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  Her cheeks colored. “Not exactly lie, just not offer the truth.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Put yourself in their circumstance. Should they be punished for something they had no control over? Would you rather they remained in the wet clothing, catching their death, for the sake of propriety?”

  John glanced back at Jonathan. “Of course not.”

  Bridges came forward and stopped beside her. “Besides, I asked Geneviève to marry me. I know what is expected of the situation.” He looked at her, eyes hard and cold. “She refused.”

  “Perhaps she needs to realize she does not have a choice.”

  Geneviève gasped. “Of course, I have a choice.” She looked from Bridges to her brother and back again. “I will decide my future and nobody else.”

  Chapter 24

  Blasted woman. This discussion was far from over, but what he needed to say to Geneviève could not be said in front of Trent and his wife. If her brother had any idea of how they spent the early morning hours there would be no question about their future. Whether she liked it or not, Geneviève would be his wife. He just needed to convince her. “Where were the two of you?”

  “We tracked the sloop to an inlet,” John answered. “There is a large house and stables. Elizabeth and I were lucky enough to get close and look inside. It is filled with crates.”

  “Did you even notice that my boat was nowhere in sight? Or, that they turned around and came after us?” He really shouldn’t take his irritation out on Trent, but the man picked the worst possible time to finally find them.

  “We lost sight of the sloop for a short bit and when we finally found it again, you weren’t anywhere,” Trent answered.

  “We assumed you couldn’t keep up or lost them in the darkness,” Mrs. Trent added. “That is why we came back to look as soon as the sun started to rise. We thought perhaps you returned to London. Then we saw your empty boat.”

  “Where is it?” Jonathan demanded. He assumed it had drifted downstream.

  “Caught on logs along the banks of the river,” Trent answered. “So we started searching for you.” He glared at Geneviève. “We expected you to be alone.

  “What do we do next?” Geneviève blurted out the question. Probably to keep them from arguing further, or having to explain her presence.

  “There is a small village not far from here. They do not have the men we need to go after the smugglers and I don’t know who might be involved, so I hired a young man to deliver a letter to Valentine. We will wait for him and his men and then show him the location.”

  Jonathan nodded. As much as he wished to see this finished so that they could return to London, he knew it would be best to have the authorities with them. A part of him feared that Valentine might still believe he is part of the smuggling ring. “When will he arrive?”

  “I don’t expect him for hours, possibly not until after dark.”

  As he had no idea how far they were from London at this point, Jonathan wasn’t certain how long all of this would take.

  “Elizabeth and I have taken a room at the local inn,” John said. “We’ll return there, keep the ladies out of sight given their clothing, and wait for Valentine.”

  It was a good plan. Hopefully, the inn offered ale and lots of it. If he didn’t plan on helping Valentine and his men capture the smugglers tonight he would get bloody drunk.

  “Do they have food?” Geneviève asked. Her stomach grumbled a bit loudly a moment later. She quickly placed a hand over her stomach and a slight blush stained her cheeks.

  Jonathan bit back a grin. He was hungry as well, but the rumble of her stomach was rather delightful. “I’ll see that you are fed.”

  “We should go,” Elizabeth announced.

  Jonathan pushed the logs away from each other and to the back of the fireplace so that they could burn themselves out and turned to study the room. There were no belongings to worry about and he followed the others out of the room. John mounted a horse with Elizabeth behind him. He hoisted himself up onto the one Elizabeth had been riding and offered a hand to Geneviève. She bit the corner of her bottom lip and only stared at his hand.

  Was she not even going to accept his help in this simple task of mounting a horse? After a moment she gritted her teeth and allowed him to hoist her up behind him. She didn’t sit sidesaddle as he expected, but astride. Of course, she was wearing trousers, but still, it was odd to have her pressed against him, her arms about his waist. Thank goodness she wasn’t in front. If he had to ride into the village, pressed against her backside, he’d have had to find privacy again.

  They stopped at the coaching inn and Jonathan slide from the horse before helping Geneviève to the ground. As Trent gave instructions for the care of the animals, Mrs. Trent took them around the back and entered a door leading up darkened stairs. On the third level, she showed them to a room at the back corner. They slipped inside and shut the door. Geneviève slid into a chair with a sigh.

  “You should rest,” he offered. “You didn’t sleep much last evening and are probably still exhausted from your cold swim.”

  She glared up at him. “As are you, I assume.”

  He was a bit tired, but she was a female and of a weaker constitution. “I will be fine.”

  She hitched a brow. “Yet for some reason, the same does not apply to me.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” Yet it was. Would he anger her at every turn? Why didn’t she accept her lot in life? That of being a female, who should be cared for, coddled, spoiled, and loved. Why must she insist on being on equal ground?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned to Trent. “Will you be going out?”

  “Is there something you need?” Elizabeth asked.

  Her shoulders slumped. “I fear my gun is quite ruined.” She pulled a pistol from the inside of her coat pocket.

  Where the hell had that come from? Why was she carrying a gun? Did she even know how to work the damn thing?

  Trent chuckled. “I will see about getting you a new one.” He took hers and weighed it in his hand then tested the grip. “What of you, Bridges?”