Page 14 of Benefactor to the Baroness (The Seductive Sleuths #3)
A s Fontaine looped her arm with Rosemary’s, she felt a sense of impending doom. How was it possible that the captain accepted the intrusion of five children onto his vessel without even demanding payment? It was too much of a coincidence, the latest in a series of strokes of good fortune, that only made her more cautious. When she had lived on the streets, there had been a saying: bad luck strikes true after three. After three incidents of good luck, something awful was certain to happen.
So as Cookie led them back down the stairs, she mentally prepared to be shown to a room that was so horrid that it would make the workhouse seem luxurious in comparison. She could not imagine the captain being so charitable that he would not punish her for tricking him. Still, whatever price she had to pay would be worth it.
Cookie stopped at a door on the same deck as where they had left the children and creaked it open.
“The captain gives his regrets,” Cookie said. “This is all that’s left for the taking, unless you’ll be preferring to sleep on deck with the night crew.”
She stepped inside and gulped. The captain’s punishment was immediately apparent, although she doubted he understood the implication of his choice. The tiny room contained only one narrow bed bolted to the wall.
Her cheeks heated. There was barely space for two women to stand side by side. They wouldn’t be able to hide anything from each other. She couldn’t ask Rosemary to subject herself to such conditions. No matter how much Fontaine wanted to surrender herself to the heat that simmered between them, she could not. Even if the chance of Mr. Hill discovering what she had done was extremely small, she would not risk losing her spot on the board.
She turned, prepared to tell Cookie that she would sleep with the crew, when Rosemary said, “This will do.”
Fontaine gaped. “It will?”
But Cookie was already gone, leaving them alone in the tiny room.
“Are you sure?” Fontaine asked. “I could sleep on the floor with the children. I don’t want you to feel…” She couldn’t finish that sentence because she wasn’t sure what she was feeling herself. One second, she feared Rosemary would demand they find the captain and tell him they could not share a room and the next, she imagined lying beside Rosemary on the thin cot night after night, aching with need. She didn’t know which would be worse.
“I’m sure,” Rosemary said without looking at her. “We can manage, even if it is hotter than an oven. I don’t know what I was thinking, wearing something so heavy.” She reached her thumb and forefinger into her hair and tugged out a pin, releasing a thick, curling lock that fell to her waist. Several more locks followed before Fontaine realized she was about to watch her friend undress.
“I-I’ll see if our bags have been delivered,” Fontaine said. She made a quick retreat, then leaned against the closed door until she caught her breath. Rosemary was striking when she was wrapped up in the many layers of clothing required of a lady. How much more attractive would she be wearing nothing at all?
She imagined a nude Rosemary running her hands down her waist to her hips, a coquettish smile on her face.
Thick, sluggish heat curled in Fontaine’s abdomen and made her itch to reach between her skirts to bring herself relief. Unfortunately, she did not have the leisure to indulge her own desires. There were children only a few doors down who needed her.
She smoothed the wrinkles out of her shirtwaist, then strode down the hall, head held high.
The next two hours were spent answering questions about their destination, breaking up fights over who got each bunk, and making sure Quinn was as comfortable as she could make him. When the room was finally quiet, she checked her timepiece and mentally cursed. It was late. Neither she nor the children had eaten since the morning.
A rap came at the door. Annie and Peter both sat up, eyes wide.
“Who is it?” Annie whispered.
Fontaine shushed her, then padded to the door and creaked it open. Cookie stood outside holding a bulging oil-cloth sack. His shoulders were curved inward, and he wore a nervous expression, like a schoolboy who had been caught doing something naughty. He thrust his bundle toward her. “Cap’n thought the orphans might be hungry.”
“Thank you,” she said before she was mobbed from behind by children. She snatched the sack out of Cookie’s arms before they could take it from him, then made them sit in a circle before she laid their bounty atop the empty cloth in the center of the room. When she was done, their unusual picnic held slices of crusty bread, firm cheese with a heavy rind, cured meat, and a dozen green apples. The children watched her every movement with rapt attention, even Annie, who hardly ever seemed to stop talking.
“Peter, can you divide the food up equally?” Fontaine asked. The young boy seemed to be the most responsible, perhaps because of his dedication to his brother.
Peter straightened his shoulders and beamed. “Of course, my lady.”
She groaned. Cookie and the other sailors had taken up referring to her in such a manner, and it seemed it had caught on with the children. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of her status at every turn, but she did not want to reprimand Peter after everything he had been through. She would smile and bear with the politeness, even if what she really wanted to do was remind them she hadn’t always been a lady.
The children were remarkably fair in their distribution of food. There was no complaining or grabbing for more than their share, although Annie and Peter both accepted extras from the younger children who did not finish everything they had been allocated and distributed the excess to Quinn. To her further surprise, all of them calmly returned to their beds when they’d finished eating. All Fontaine had to do was pick up the cloth and brush a few crumbs onto the floor. She wished she had a broom with which to sweep up the mess, but it was not worth disrupting the children further by finding one and returning.
She struggled through the rocking ship back to the single, cramped room she had agreed to share with Rosemary. What had she been thinking? It was difficult enough to keep her hands off her friend without them being pressed together in a narrow cot while the ship rocked them back and forth. They barely had enough room to store their bags without tripping over them.
Her stomach was full of bubbles as she entered the room to find Rosemary sitting on the edge of the bed, stripped down to her shift and stockings.
Fontaine could not stop herself from taking in all of Rosemary, from her slipper-clad feet, up her shapely curves to the swell of her breasts, nipples faintly visible beneath the two layers of thin fabric, to her flushed face, her hair loose down her back. With the moonlight shining through the porthole and making the fabric nearly transparent, she seemed like an angel draped in celestial robes.
Rosemary crossed her arms over her ample bosom and turned her head toward the bed. “Do you wish to have the side by the wall, or the other?”
Another burst of heat rippled out from her core. The bed was even narrower than she had remembered, a scrap of a thing tucked against the wall, hardly more than she had used when she’d been an orphan. And she would sleep next to Rosemary every night for the coming week, or however long it took to reach their destination.
God help her, she would be lucky if she could sleep at all with Rosemary’s warm body pressed to hers.
“You can have the wall,” Fontaine choked out.
Rosemary jerked her head up and down in a nod, then crawled into the bed so that her back was to Fontaine, giving some manner of privacy. It was a kind gesture, although the view of the curve of Rosemary’s waist and rear beneath the thin blanket was just as distracting. She wondered how well their bodies would fit together and then shook her head. They would sleep with their backs to each other. That was the only logical conclusion.
She removed her gown layer by layer, being careful to fold each item before putting it back in her bag. By the end of the trip, she wouldn’t own a scrap of unrumpled fabric, but there was little she could do without a lady’s maid. There hadn’t been time or funds to hire a replacement for Jones. They would have to rely on themselves and let the children take care of each other. It was perhaps a good thing that they were accustomed to doing everything on their own.
When she was down to only her shift, she put her knee on the bed and moved as slowly as she could, positioning her body so that her back was pressed tightly to Rosemary’s. That was the best she could do.
Unfortunately, her body refused to give into rest. She felt every inch of Rosemary. Her firm buttocks. The hard ridge of her spine. Her hand moving along Fontaine’s hip.
What?
She sucked in a breath. There was most definitely a hand touching her hip, creeping toward her waist. She wanted that hand to dip between her legs while at the same time her breasts were heavy and longing to be cupped and touched. Every slight movement of Rosemary’s hand sent a fresh wave of sensation to her sex until she was certain the dampness she was generating had pooled on the mattress.
There was a shuffle on the bed, then Rosemary was cuddling her with one arm looped over her stomach. The feeling of breasts pressed to her back was so startling that she hovered on the edge of completion without ever touching herself.
But Rosemary did not continue to move her hand, and when Fontaine listened closer, she vaguely heard snoring.
Rosemary was asleep.
She suppressed a groan. She had thought… impossible things. Things that could never be. God, how she had wanted Rosemary to touch her, to make the most of the short time they shared.
She was tempted to reach between her legs and bring herself the relief she craved, but that might cause Rosemary to wake, and she didn’t want the other woman to be repulsed. Kissing was one thing, but bringing sexual pleasure to each other was far different. She would not ask Rosemary to do anything with which she was not comfortable.
So, even though it was very difficult to fall asleep while knowing whom she was clasped against, Fontaine closed her eyes and slowly, ever so slowly, let the warmth of Rosemary’s body lull her into a fitful sleep.