Page 69 of A Modest Independence

“Do,” Tom said.

Not that it would make any difference at this point. Between Mrs. Plank—who might well have seen him embracing Jenny on the Valetta—and Mr. Hardcastle, it was only a matter of time before such murmurings developed into full-blown gossip. He’d have to find a way to counter it. A strategy that didn’t involve separating himself from Jenny. He wasn’t ready to part from her yet. Couldn’t bear to contemplate keeping his distance, even if that distance was nothing more than the space of a railway carriage.

The train to Suez left at eight in the morning. They departed the hotel much earlier, all of them tired and worn, blinking up into the sun like newborn kittens.

“I hardly slept,” Jenny confided. “I was far too excited.”

“You can sleep on the train,” Tom said as he bundled her back into the carriage.

And sleep she did, curled up against him in their private railway compartment, her head on his chest and her skirts spilling all over his legs.

Tom’s arm was around her, holding her close, his face turned into her uncovered hair. Gossip be damned. He was glad he’d closed the blinds when they boarded. Glad he had her to himself, if even for a short while.

I suppose we could marry and settle down to a brood of children.

If they were married, he could hold her like this whenever he wanted. He could wake with her in his arms. Could press his face into her unbound hair. Could kiss her as he had on the Indus.

But he wasn’t blind. And he wasn’t stupid.

Though their journey had started with seasickness and self-doubt, Jenny had rapidly grown into her adventure. He saw evidence of it every time she gazed about her in wonder. Every time she smiled at shopkeepers, porters, and peddlers. The farther they traveled from England, the more she brightened. By the time they reached Delhi, she would surely be incandescent.

One day, I shall come back here and stay a good long while.

A good long while in Cairo. How long was that, he wondered. A month? A year? More, perhaps?

He pressed his nose into her hair, seeking the clean herbal scent she’d had in London. The practical, no-nonsense fragrance that was so unmistakably Jenny Holloway. But it was gone. Replaced somewhere during their journey with the redolence of the sun, and the sea, and the delicate perfume of Marseilles soap.

She stirred against him with a sigh, bringing one hand to rest on his midsection.

And I am in hell, Tom thought. This is hell.

Jenny woke in Tom’s arms, the motion of the train nearly lulling her straight back to sleep again. She knew she should sit up. Should make some effort to straighten her gown and repair her hair. But Tom was holding her so closely. If she withdrew from him now, she didn’t know when he might do so again.

His cheek brushed over her plaited hair. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm.”

“We’ll be in Suez in an hour.”

She tilted her head to look at him. His face was bare, his blue eyes fixed on hers without any barrier between them. “Where are your spectacles?”

“In the pocket of my waistcoat.”

Her hand was resting low on his midriff, her fingers half-curled over one of his buttons. She slid it up to his chest, feeling the outline of his spectacles just where he’d said they’d be.

If she were sensible, she’d have stopped there. She’d have dropped her hand and sat up, withdrawing back to her side of the compartment. But Jenny wasn’t feeling very sensible at the moment. Her hand drifted up to his cheek as if it had a will of its own.

Tom’s gaze held hers. He didn’t say a word. She suspected he was holding his breath. Waiting to see what she was going to do next.

Jenny was quite curious to find out herself.

On the single occasion they’d kissed, it was Tom who had initiated the intimacy between them. He had kissed her. Which had been lovely and thrilling; a thoroughly knee-weakening experience. But this time…

This time, she didn’t wish to wait for him to kiss her. Who knew if he ever would? He’d been acting so oddly since they disembarked from the Indus. At war with his principles, no doubt. Trying to resist doing anything that might seem as if he were taking advantage of her.

It was ridiculously noble of him. It was also wholly unnecessary.

She cradled his face in her hand, her thumb moving over his cheekbone in a slow caress.