Page 10 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

F arah reached for her glass with a shaky hand and took a long gulp of the wine within.

She sat there for a moment, swaying, dizzy, trying to regain her composure.

Shaken to her very core, she couldn’t believe the power in Rockwell’s kiss.

Even Philippe’s kisses hadn’t affected her so, but then again, Philippe’s kisses had been chaste compared to Rockwell’s.

His tongue had entered her mouth and—she’d liked it.

Her skin still tingled all over. She shifted in her chair.

Her whole body was warm, but there was a yearning in her feminine center which still throbbed.

She looked at her plate of half-eaten food but pushed it away.

This was terrible. Now she would think of Rockwell in a new light.

Seeing him naked was bad enough, but now that he’d kissed her… .

She chided herself for allowing such a liberty.

She was supposed to be his sister and already they had acted inappropriately.

It must be because she was tired and worried about her—their—situation.

She threw her napkin on the table, chiding herself.

It was time for a bath and then for bed.

Tomorrow was another day, and she planned to find Lord Furoe as fast as she could and get herself home with no scandal.

She would not put Rockwell in a position where he had to marry her.

She’d have to find another way to deal with Lord Franklin.

She couldn’t end up in a marriage of convenience with Rockwell.

She might lose her heart to him and she was pretty sure love was something he didn’t want in a marriage.

She’d be just as miserable with him as she would be with Lord Franklin—maybe more.

She was right in her thinking. For her, it was love or nothing in a marriage.

She wanted what Wolf and Tiffany shared, or she’d rather become a spinster.

A few minutes later, as she lay soaking in the hot water, her gown taken for cleaning, all she could think about was that Rockwell was in the chamber next door—naked too.

She closed her eyes and relived the kiss.

His finger on her cheek was like fire on her skin—almost branding her.

She’d wanted him to touch her everywhere.

Rockwell was like laudanum. It gave such pleasant dreams, you had to fight to keep from using it every day.

She, of course, didn’t have any with her, as she hadn’t expected to be shanghaied on a ship bound for Ireland.

When her courses came, she often needed it for the pain.

Now she would avoid it in case she dreamed of him.

From now on, Farah vowed earnestly, she would make a concerted effort to always play her role as his sister and remind him of such.

She had no choice. For the first time in her life, she was conflicted.

She could envision letting a man like Rockwell take her to bed, but he would only do so as her husband, and that she couldn’t afford to contemplate.

A wanderer who didn’t believe in love would likely have a woman in every port while she was left behind.

That could work if she didn’t feel her heart might be in danger. The wisest thing would be to keep away from him, but it was impossible to do when stuck in Ireland with him.

Just then, she felt something touching her arm as it hung over the tub. She looked over the side of the tub and spied a very large brown spider with legs as long as her fingers crawling up her arm.

The scream she issued was followed by a violent shaking of her arm to try to remove it, but it wouldn’t budge. She was screaming her head off while jumping out of the tub and swatting the spider away with her other hand.

The spider dropped to the floor and scurried away towards the bed.

She quickly threw her towel over it, not wanting to sleep in a bed she knew an enormous spider had crawled under.

Her breathing got back to normal just as the door burst open to find a dripping wet, and naked Rockwell, his face pale with a pistol in hand standing in the doorway.

He looked about the room and then at her, also naked in the middle of the room.

She pointed to the towel. “A spider,” she croaked out. “A very large spider,” she said, and shuddered.

But Rockwell stood like a stone statue, his mouth hanging open. As she let her eyes sweep up his magnificent body, the cold night air was forgotten as she found the heat and desire flaring in his eyes. Only then did she remember she was naked, too.

She looked around and grabbed for the quilt on the end of her bed but gave it a good shake before wrapping herself in it. “Can you get rid of the spider, please? It’s under the towel. I won’t be able to sleep unless I know it’s gone.”

“Sleep… I’ll never sleep now that I’ve seen…” Rockwell growled. “Why didn’t you simply kill it?”

She shook her head as she tried not to look at him—still naked. “Just pop it out the window. It’s not hurting anyone. Perhaps you should—cover yourself first, now that I have the spider contained.”

Rockwell flashed her a look she couldn’t understand before crossing naked to the towel and picking it up. He walked to the window and shook it out. As he turned back to face her, he held the towel in front of him, blocking the view she was coming to crave.

He stood there, looking at her wrapped in the quilt and a pained look crossed his face.

“I’d hand you the towel but I suspect the sight of my…

” he swallowed hard, “my reaction to your nakedness might be inappropriate. I’ll fetch you another towel from my room.

” With that he stalked out, leaving her staring at his bare buttocks clenching as he walked.

Her body heated and her mouth fell open.

He was gone for quite some time and she stood, still wet, in the middle of her room in the now completely soaked quilt. Finally, he returned, but this time, to her disappointment, he had a deep blue dressing gown tied tightly around him.

“Your towel, madam.”

She reached out to take it from him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“With disappointment that I’m no longer naked. I’m having enough troubling trying to remember you’re supposed to be my sister.”

She moved closer, knowing it was a bad idea, but no man had ever looked at her the way Rockwell was doing, nor had her body reacted to any man like this before. It was as if it had a mind of its own. “But I’m not your sister.”

Rockwell briefly closed his eyes. “What are you doing? This is not a game. Do you want to end up married to me?”

She shook her head but held her ground. “I don’t intend to marry unless it’s for love. You mentioned I’d be missing out if I remained a spinster. Well, I can be a spinster, but that doesn’t mean I can’t experience desire and passion.” So she dropped the quilt to the floor.

Once again, heat flared in his eyes. He took a step towards her until her breasts almost rubbed against the satin of his robe. “But what if you met a man you could love and—”

“If he loved me, he wouldn’t care about my past. If he does, he’s not the man for me.

” She tentatively reached out and cupped his cheek.

“No one needs to know what we do in Ireland. Besides, you’re saying I’m already ruined for being with you here in Ireland.

So perhaps I want to be ruined for real. ”

He reached up and gripped her wrist, gentling peeling it from his face. “But I would know. If you want this to go any further, realize you’re agreeing to marry me. And I warn you, I’m not husband material. But I can promise you passion. Just not my heart.”

She stepped back, stooped to gather the quilt around her once more. “Then we are at an impasse. I’m happy to explore passion with you, but I won’t marry you unless I own your heart. I guess it will be a frustrating trip.”

With that, she pushed him out of her room and slammed the door.

Men were so confusing. Rockwell wanted her. She saw it in his eyes and the way his robe was moving when she revealed her body to him. Yet honor got in the way.

She sighed as she donned her slip to sleep in and crawled into her cold bed—alone. Really, she admired his honor. That was what made him a good man, and why she utterly believed him when he said he wouldn’t make a good husband.

He would never lie to her.

The fear that grew deep in the pit of her stomach was that if they didn’t get home soon, the ruse would be revealed, and Rockwell and her brother would make her marry him.

Franklin wasn’t stupid and would not believe the story.

She was ill for too long. He’d want to see her.

Or worse, contact Blackstone and ask what was wrong with her.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if Rockwell behaved like a gentleman on this journey and ended up having to marry her, anyway?

She turned over for about the hundredth time and punched her pillow.

What she was even more scared of was that maybe she didn’t care they would have to marry. Having a man like Rockwell for a husband could be very desirous—while he was at home in England, anyway. The nights would be long when he went adventuring.

An image of Rockwell with mistresses or ladies in countries he sailed to, made her cringe and wish she’d never thought marriage to Rockwell would be anything but a disappointment.

As she drifted into sleep, she promised herself that they would do everything they could to find Lord Furoe. And soon.

*

Farah slept late and by the time she had risen and dressed, Rockwell had left the tavern, which meant she was stuck here until he returned.

She’d promised. She sat in their private salon drinking another cup of tea and thinking about Lucien.

She prayed they found him because both Lauren, his sister, and Courtney, his fiancée, would be so happy…