Page 35 of Love with a Notorious Rake

“Passions are running high,” Paris said.

She laughed brokenly. “Is that what it is?”

“My dear, what will you do?”

“When next we go to the mill, I will apologize for my childish tantrums. Then I will ask him to agree that we not see each other while we’re here. Act as if we are strangers. It is the only common-sense solution. What comes after that, I do not know. Go our separate ways, I suppose.”

“There is no rush to cut ties with the young man yet. Believe me when I tell you, to find someone with whom you can share all manner of intimacy is a rare gift. Do not be eager to toss that aside until you’re completely sure he is not what you want.”

Cristyn met Paris’s steady gaze. Good advice. “Does it still hurt?”

He laid his hand flat on his chest. “My heart aches constantly. But it has been more than six years since we parted, and time does lessen the pain. I doubt I will ever love again. For a few years, I had it all. It’s more than some poor souls experience in their wretched lives. I am thankful.”

“What happened to the heir?”

“Oh,” Paris sighed. “Last I heard he married an appropriate diamond of the first water and had his heir. Apparently he and his wife are leading separate lives.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “Then you could still find happiness.” Was she suggesting an affair? How improper.

He shook his head sadly. “No, my dear. He chose duty over love, above all else. The break is permanent. I am nearing the end of my journey; I will no doubt settle in the country to set up a practice. Continue to fight for medical reforms. But I will never return to London. My oldest brother has three sons. I will never inherit my father’s viscountcy, which is entirely fine with me.” He patted her hand. “Enough about me. I should leave you in peace. Tomorrow, we throw ourselves into our work and put heartache behind us.” Paris stood. “Good night, Cristyn.”

Once he departed, she made her way to her room. The conversation with Paris gave her plenty to consider. The heart knows. Sitting at the small desk, she placed paper, ink, and pen before her.

Dear Cyn,

You will never guess who is in Earl Shilton…

* * * *

Once Aidan returned to his room, he tore off his clothes and immediately lost himself in his routine of calisthenics. Sweat dripped off him in rivulets, as if he were a block of melting ice.

Fate had certainly taken a hand. When Cristyn had appeared in the spinning room, time had stood still. She looked ethereal standing in the cotton fluff falling all about her, as if she stepped out of a wintery otherworld where fairy princesses resided. The mere sight of her sent his world spinning out of control. Never had a woman upended his life in such a spectacular manner, or shaken him to his core.

Their meeting had rocked him: a devastating, soul-shattering kiss followed by a heated argument. The kiss was like nothing he had experienced before. How could it hold such emotion and intimacy? Cristyn had departed in a huff, leaving him hard and aching. The rogue still existed within him considering he’d suggested touching her in intimate places. Truthfully, he didn’t like feeling unrestrained, for he’d had more than enough of it during his fall from grace.

As for examining his feelings, how could he? He must remain focused on his task and not become distracted. But with her in the village, how could he avoid acknowledging the fact that he wanted her like he had wanted no other woman? Cristyn had seen him at his absolute worst and had still offered tea and sympathy. Hell, she had offered him more than that; she had gifted him with the most precious of commodities: her heart. And he had turned from her.

With one last exhale, he stood, then dumped the cold water in his basin over his head. He was making a damned mess of his life, as well as his room. Glancing at the pool of water at his feet, he realized he couldn’t leave it there all night. Reaching for his trousers, he slipped them on, along with his shirt and boots, then went in search of the innkeeper.

As he walked along the hallway, a woman exited one of the rooms.

When she turned and met his gaze, she squeaked with surprise. “Mr. Black, sir. I was…that is…” She blushed furiously, then her expression changed to that of a seasoned seductress. She sashayed toward him, giving a thorough inspection of his casual state.

“Do we know each other?” he asked, his tone indifferent.

“Aye, I work at the mill. In the spinning room. My name be Tessie.”

Did she? It had only been one day; he wasn’t able to recognize any of the workers, even if they had been lined up in front of him. “And I should care…why?”

“A few of us earn a shilling or two on the side. You get my meaning?”

“Quite.” In other words, she acted as a prossie. Not his business. “If you will excuse me.” He moved to dart around her, but she grasped his arm with her dirty hand. “I had an agreement with the other overlooker.” Tessie brazenly cupped his genitals and squeezed gently. “Ah, you be responding already. I can suck on your pipe for a shilling.”

Dear God, accosted in the inn. But he didn’t push her hand away…not yet. The previous overseer? The man with the wife and five children? Unbelievable. “You did this for him regularly? Anything else? What about the master?”

Tessie gripped his semi-erect cock. Blast his rampant libido. Unfortunately, he would respond to anyone grabbing him. He fought his body’s usual reaction.

“Ooo, you be a thick ’un. Wonder if I can shove it all in me mouth?”