The Vanishing Viscountess. Diane Gaston

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      She regarded him. “I do not even know if there is someone in London awaiting your return.”

      His eyes clouded. “The usual people, I suppose.”

      She flushed, embarrassed that she had not considered what his life might be like now. He had been the marquess of her memory, dashing and carefree and unmarried. “Forgive me, but I do not know if you are married. If you are—”

      “I am not married,” he replied, his voice catching as he pressed his hand to his side. “A delay in my return should not inconvenience anyone overmuch. My affairs are well managed and rarely require my attention.”

      She felt a disquieting sense of sadness from him. Still, that once innocent, hopeful débutante brightened.

      He was not married.

      Their meal struggled on with even fewer words spoken until Mrs Gwynne again knocked. Tanner rose stiffly.

      “I’ve come for your dishes, lamb,” she said as he opened the door. “But first I have something for you.” She placed folded white garments into his hands. “Nightclothes for you.”

      “Thank you,” Marlena exclaimed, surprised again at the woman’s kindness. She placed their dishes on the tray.

      “That is good of you, Mrs Gwynne.” Tanner took the garments and placed them on the bed. “Might we purchase them from you?”

      The woman waved a hand at him. “Oh, I hate to ask you for money after all you have been through.”

      “I insist,” he said.

      Mrs Gwynne gave him a motherly pat on the cheek. “Then we will settle up tomorrow, Mr Lear. Is there anything else you might require?”

      “I can think of nothing.” He turned to Marlena.

      She shook her head and handed Mrs Gwynne the tray full of dishes. She walked over to open the door for the woman.

      Marlena stopped her before she crossed the threshold. “Wait.” She glanced over to Tanner. “Would it be possible for someone to launder my—my husband’s shirt? He would so like it to be clean.”

      Mrs. Gwynne brightened. “It would indeed be possible. I’ll see to it myself and dry it in front of the fire.” She stepped over to Tanner again. “Give it over, lamb.”

      Tanner glanced at Marlena before pulling the shirt over his head and draping it over Mrs Gwynne’s arm. “Thank you again.”

      The innkeeper’s wife smiled and bustled out of the room.

      Tanner turned to Marlena. “That was thoughtful of you.”

      His skin glowed gold in the light from the oil lamp and the fireplace, but he was no less magnificent than he’d appeared that morning or as he bathed. Just as one is tempted to touch a statue, Marlena was tempted to run her fingers down his chest, to feel his sculpted muscles for herself.

      She resisted. “No more thoughtful than you asking for my bath. I would say we are even now, except for the matter of you saving my life.”

      His mouth curved into a half-smile. “We are even on that score, as well. Do you not recall hitting Mr Davies-the-Younger over the head?”

      “I am appalled at that family, the lot of them.” She shook her head.

      He smiled. “You’ll get no argument from me on that score.”

      He picked up one of the garments Mrs Gwynne had brought them and put it on, covering his spectacular chest. “I’ll walk down with you to the necessary, before we go to bed.”

      Go to bed repeated itself in her mind.

      The sky was dark when they stepped outside to the area behind the inn where the necessary was located. Marlena was glad Tanner was with her. The darkness disquieted her, as if it harboured danger in its shadows.

      When they returned to the room, he said, “Spare me a blanket and pillow and I will sleep on the floor.”

      “No, you will not,” she retorted, her voice firm. There was no way she would allow the man who had rescued her to suffer through such discomfort. “Not with those sore ribs of yours. You must sleep in the bed.”

      He seized her arm and made her look at him. “I’ll not allow you to sleep on the floor.”

      Her heart pounded as she looked directly into his eyes. “Then we must share the bed.”

      Chapter Five

      Marlena’s heart pounded as Tanner stared at her. He said nothing.

      She must have made a terrible mistake, must have mistaken the meaning of his almost-kiss. Surely he would give her some sign of wanting to make love to her after her brazen invitation. Not this silence.

      She felt the rebuff as keenly as she’d once felt those of her husband. Corland, however, had voiced his disgust at her wantonness. She’d believed him, too, thinking herself some unnatural sort of wife to desire the lovemaking, until she discovered that Corland had no such disgust of other women bedding him.

      Tanner’s reaction confused her all the more.

      Perhaps she was not a temptation to any man. She’d not really had the opportunity to find out while playing governess to Eliza’s children.

      “I—I ought to speak more plainly,” she prevaricated. “I meant we ought to share the bed, which is big enough. I was not suggesting more.”

      He swung away from her, so she could not tell how this idea—outrageous all on its own—had struck him.

      He finally turned back to her. “You wish only to share the bed.”

      She nodded, wishing she had merely insisted upon sleeping on the floor and been done with it.

      “I will turn my back while you undress, then.” He faced the chest where the water and bowl were.

      Marlena undressed as quickly as she could, although her fingers fumbled with the laces of her corset. She slipped the nightdress over her head and noticed the comforting smell of lavender lingering in the fabric. She laid her clothing over one of the chairs so that it would not wrinkle.

      She crawled beneath the covers. “I am done.”

      He’d been so still as she undressed, adding to her discomfort, but he moved now, removing his boots and the coat he’d donned over his nightshirt when they’d gone below stairs. She peeked through her lashes at him, watching him unfasten the fall of his trousers and step out of them, the nightshirt preserving his modesty.

      He walked towards the bed and climbed in beside her. The bed shifted with his weight. When he faced away from her, she wished it could have been as it had been that morning, his arms around her, bare skin touching bare skin. She was certain she would never sleep a wink the whole night, but soon after his breathing became even and rhythmic, she drifted off.

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