More Than Willing (14 page)

“Accidents aren’t uncommon at the brewery and Dr. Meechum doesn’t have time to take care of them all. I usually get called to treat those that aren’t so severe.”

Gray held his breath while she applied salve to his injury. Pain wasn’t the reason his lungs failed to fill with enough air to breath
e. Her nearness had a much greater affect on him. And her touch. The soft, gentle movement of her hands on his back sent shock waves pummeling through him. And suddenly, he could imagine her hands moving over his shoulders and his chest and every inch of perfect flesh on his body – instead of his grotesquely marred back.

The harsh sound of tearing material pulled him out of his reverie and he glanced at her over his shoulder. “I owe you a new petticoat,” he said looking at the long strip of white cotton she held in her hands. “I think I’ll enjoy shopping for the perfect garment for you.” He smiled. “Except the one I choose to replace the one you sacrificed for me won’t be cotton.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, yes,” he teased. “And it won’t be white. Definitely not white.”

“Stop it,” she demanded, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of scarlet. “You know such talk is inappropriate.”

“Yes, but aren’t you the least bit interested in what color I’d choose for you?”

Her hands halted their ministration and his heart skipped a beat. Bloody hell, he wasn’t used to reacting this way. When her hands moved again he could breathe.

“I’m nearly finished,” she finally said. “Do you feel strong enough to stand? It will be easier for me to put this bandage around your chest.”

Gray pushed himself to his feet. “You’ve worked a miracle. It hardly hurts.” He rolled his shoulders and felt very little pain.

“Stop that or you’ll make it bleed again.”

She placed a bandage on his injury, then reached around him to wrap the long strip of her petticoat around his body.

“Hold this,” she ordered, pressing the material against his chest. Her arms weren’t long enough to
encircle him unless she pressed herself intimately close.

Gray hesitated, hoping she would, then held the material against his chest while she moved to his left. His body stiffened each time she reached around him. Her touch acted like a warm, moist heat that radiated through him to reach deep into the center of his body. He wasn’t sure how many times he could allow her to brush against him without pulling her into his arms.

“I think that should hold it.” She sounded as out of breath as he felt. “I’ll tear this in two and tie it in the front.

She tore the material, then stepped in front of him. Her cheeks were a brilliant scarlet and the hand that held one end of the piece she’d torn trembled.

And Gray nearly jumped for joy.

In order to reach the other end of the material she’d have to reach around him, only this time from the front. She’d have to lean against him and wrap her arms around his middle. She’d have to step close enough to him that he’d feel the firm contour of her breasts pressed against his chest. She’d situate herself close enough to him that he’d feel her warm, ragged breath wash over his flesh.

She leaned forward and stopped, as if she suddenly realized how precarious her position was.

Gray gave her enough time to step away, but she didn’t. She moved even closer, then reached around him to gather the loose end of the bandage. He waited until she’d tied the two ends together, then couldn’t stop himself from gathering her in his arms.

He didn’t move so quickly to startle her, but slowly lifted his arms to envelop her. He gave her enough time to erase the look of surprise before he stared into her eyes with longing. He paused for her to indicate her unwillingness before he brought his lips down on top of hers.

But she wasn’t unwilling.

She was more than willing.

She didn’t fight him. She didn’t hold her lips lifeless beneath his. Instead, she tilted her head and returned his kiss with a passion that set him on fire.

Her lips were warm and inviting, the feel of her in his arms pliant and yielding. Gray brought her closer and deepened his kiss. She answered his hunger by parting her lips to admit him entrance. And when he entered her warm, honeyed cavern, she moaned a desperate plea that sent his passion soaring.

“Maggie,” he crooned, showering her face and neck with kisses.

She didn’t answer, but cupped her hands to his cheeks and brought his lips back to hers.

Gray was near to exploding, his passion burning white hot with desire. He kissed her again and again, then deepened his kisses and kissed her over again.

She wasn’t timid in her response. Her tongue surged forward to meet his, to battle his, to mate. Her hands traveled the length of his body, roaming over his exposed chest, touching his bare shoulders and coming to rest on his scarred flesh.

His hands moved as feverishly as hers, skimming upward from the sloping roundness of her hips, to the narrowing of her waist, to the gentle swell of her breasts. He hesitated, then cupped them in
his palms.

She leaned into him and Gray was certain he’d been given the most special gift imaginable. The feeling of her nestled against him was euphoric, a mind-soaring experience that left him breathless and trembling.

He wanted to continue to kiss her until the sun sank beneath the horizon, then take her to his bed and spend this night and a thousand others with her. But a dose of reasoning and common sense crashed through his raging passion and he lifted his mouth from hers with an agonizing moan.

“Ah, Maggie,
my love.” He gasped, his chest heaving and his breaths coming in ragged gulps.

He pulled her close and held her until she felt steadier in his arms. For several long minutes neither of them moved. Finally, she placed her palms flat against his chest and stepped away from him.

“Maggie, I—”

She stood with her back to him and when he spoke she held up a trembling hand to stop him. “I… uh…” She took in a shuddering breath. “I have discovered another inn that might be for sale. I’d like you to negotiate the purchase for me.”

Gray could have roared with laughter. Of all the statements he expected her to make – no, of all the excuses he expected her to make for why she’d allowed him to kiss her – no, for why she’d kissed him the way she had, he’d never been thrown so completely off the mark. He never expected her to ignore the subject altogether.

“Of course, Maggie,
my love,” he said with a smile on his face. “For you, anything.”

“Aunt Hester heard of an inn to the north of here that is for sale.”

An ominous fear settled over him. “How far north?”

“About an hour’s ride.”

A chill washed over him. “What’s the name of this inn?”

She turned to face him. “
The Spotted Goose.”

Gray felt the blood drain from his head and reached out to steady himself. “No.”

“No, you do not think it’s for sale? Or, no, you will not negotiate the sale for me?”

“Yes! Both! All of the above.”

“Why? Because it is near your home?”

Gray made an effort to calm his building temper. “I have no intention of ever returning to Mayfair. Not even for you, Maggie,
my love.”

She turned around and the look in her eyes acted like a sword piercing his heart. “I did not think you would.”

“So you thought to change
my
mind with your kisses?”

“No. Kissing you was to change
my mind.”

Damn her
! “Did you succeed?”

She shook her head then walked to the door. “I failed on both counts.”

Maggie stood in the foyer with her bonnet tied and her cloak fastened
while she waited for Cleary to bring the carriage from the stables. She looped the cords of her reticule over her arm and held the bag close to her middle to keep it safe. She had nearly every spare pound she had in the world with her, in case Orin Wattich was interested in selling The Spotted Goose – although that was hardly likely if he was as hesitant of doing business with a woman as most other men were. But she had to try. And she knew not to expect Gray to help.

Her cheeks burned hot when she remembered the passionate kisses they’d shared just three days ago. Since then she’d gone to the brewery every day as usual, but she hadn’t seen him there. He hadn’t made an excuse to see her
as had become his habit. In fact, she almost thought he avoided her.

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut when her lips tingled. How long would it be before she forgot the feel of his lips atop hers?

Allowing him to kiss her had been the stupidest thing she could have done. Kissing him back the way she did had been even more brainless. She’d nearly had herself convinced that the only reason his first kiss affected her so was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long. And he’d been drinking, which had to be the reason his kisses turned so passionate. And it was the middle of the night. And he was in a celebratory mood. And…

She stomped her foot in irritation. She’d been so sure that the second time she kissed him wouldn’t be at all like the first. And it wasn’t. She breathed a deep sigh and clasped her gloved hand over her mouth.

The kiss had been so much more she couldn’t begin to explain it.

She looked out the long glass window beside the door to make sure the carriage wasn’t waiting. She was glad Gray had turned her down when she’d asked him to go to
The SpottedGoose. She couldn’t let herself forget that even though he’d told her the reason he was here was to learn the brewery business, that may not be his only reason. Or, it may not be the reason at all. Knowing his reputation, she found it far more likely that he was here because he saw the advantage in marrying her. After all, the brewery would provide him with a guaranteed income. If he could convince her to marry him, it would be possible for him to leave her to manage Bradford Brewery so he could run off to London to spend the profits—the way her father had done.

Maggie looked out the window again, then waved their waiting butler away and reached for the door when the carriage crossed the street. She tucked her reticule close to her and breathed a deep sigh as she left the house. She would show him she could manage without him. Suggesting that he go back to where he’d grown up had been a stupid idea anyway. She didn’t know why she thought returning to where his mother had died would help him face what happened there.
Or why she thought going back to where he’d been injured so badly would heal the wounds still raw on the inside.

The idea
had been stupid. She had no business getting involved with Grayson Delaney or his life anyway. He was nothing but trouble and the further she stayed away from him the better off she’d be.

Maggie walked out onto the portico and down the steps and short
path, then took one step toward the waiting carriage. The carriage door opened and Grayson Delaney stepped out. She came to an abrupt halt.

“Good morning, Miss Bradford.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m going with you.” He held out his arm for her to take.

She ignored his offer. “I seem to remember asking for your assistance before and being rejected. I prefer to take your refusal as your final answer and go on my own.”

“Don’t be stubborn about this, Maggie. Wattich is less likely to deal with a female than Briars.”

“I am Miss Bradford to you, Mr. Delaney, and you may go back to your job in the brewery so I can be on my way.”

He stepped back from her and smiled. “Did you bring any cash with you?”

She didn’t answer, but clutched her reticule closer against her woolen pelisse.

“Good. Wattich is the kind that will be influenced by the sight of a few pounds.”

“Thank you for your advice,” she said with a lofty air. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course.
” He stepped back for her to climb into the carriage.

“Do you know which road to take to get there, Cleary?” he asked.

“Aye, Mr. Delaney.”

“Very well, man. Be on your way.”

Maggie sank back into the cushions and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t follow her inside. She felt the carriage shift and just as it was about to leave the door swung open and Gray bolted inside.

“What are you
doing?”

“I’m going with you, Maggie,
my love.”

“No you’re not!”

“Ah, but I am. I told Cleary that you’d probably object to a guard going with you—”

“A guard?”

“Of course. But after the rash of accidents that have happened at the brewery he and I decided it wouldn’t be wise for you to go all that way unprotected.”

“How dare you!”

“It’s only your welfare I’m looking after, Maggie, my love.”

“Stop calling me that! And have Cleary stop this carriage right now!”

“Sorry, Maggie. You’ll just have to put up with my company because I have no intention of going back.”

She glared at him with as much anger as she could muster but he only smiled at her in return. Before they left the lane he’d stretched out his long, muscular legs and made himself comfortable. When he was situated into the corner, he crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his head back against the padding beside the window as if he intended to take a nap.

“Why?”

“Why, what?” he asked in a lazy drawl.

She waited to see if he opened his eyes but he didn’t. “Why are you going with me? I thought you didn’t want to go back to Mayfair.”

His eyes slid open and he stared at her with arched eyebrows. “I’m not going to Mayfair. I’m going with you to
The Spotted Goose. I’m going to negotiate with Orin Wattich and see if I can get you another tied property.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Stop that
!” She slammed her fist against her thigh.

“Stop what?”

“Stop making me repeat every question twice. Why are you so interested in helping Bradford Brewery?”

“Because it’s in my best interest.”

Maggie’s blood turned cold. “Nothing concerning Bradford Brewery is in your best interest. In fact, as soon as we get back I want you to pack your belongings and leave.”

“Are you dismissing me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you here.”

That statement got his attention. He sat up in his seat and leaned forward.

“Maggie, my love.” He reached over to cover her hands with his. “You need me. Bradford Brewery needs me.”

Maggie shook her head but he stopped her movement by nestling her hands in his and holding them tight.

“You do. Bradford Brewery needs to grow in order to survive and you can’t do that alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she said but knew her words for a lie the minute she spoke them.

“You are until your father returns. Do you know when that might be?”

Maggie swallowed.
Never
. “Soon, I’m sure.”

“Well, until he does, you’ll just have to accept my help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a nap. I visited the
Crowing Rooster last night and didn’t get home until a few hours ago.”

Damn him! He drank all night and staggered in only
hours ago, knowing he intended to leave with her to negotiate a very complicated purchase. This was exactly the same thing her father would have done.

“Why on earth did you go to the
Crowing Rooster? It’s more than an hour’s ride from Bradford.”

Gray relaxed against the corner and propped his right ankle atop his opposite knee. With a heavy sigh he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. For several minutes he didn’t say a word and Maggie thought he’d chosen to ignore her.

Her irritation flared that he might be asleep.

“The
Crowing Rooster is going to be the next tied property we buy,” he said.

Her heart flipped in her chest. She couldn’t find the air to breathe let alone speak.

He was a bigger threat than her father ever thought of being. At least the brewery had been her father’s and he could spend its profits as he saw fit. Grayson Delaney was spending money he had no right to. She’d see him roast in hell before she’d let him cause her brewery to go bankrupt.

Maggie opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind then closed it with a snap when the first soft snoring sound came from his corner of the carriage.

He was asleep.

Damn him!

And he’d fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

****

Gray woke up feeling much more rested than he had a right to. But feeling less tired didn’t mean he was less anxious. The pounding in his head was only partly due to the amount of ale he’d drunk with Rory McDermitt the night before while they negotiated the sale of the
Crowing Rooster. The fact that he’d stepped into the carriage with only a few hour’s sleep is what allowed him to spend the last few hours napping. At least he didn’t have to think about where they were going.

Bloody hell but he didn’t think he’d ever have to go near Mayfair again.

He opened his eyes. It had been fifteen years since he’d traveled this road but it seemed like only yesterday.

He looked out the window. “Bandishire is just ahead. We have to go through it to reach
The Spotted Goose. It’s the nearest village to Mayfair.”

Her eyes brightened with curiosity. “Which direction is your home from here?”

“To the east. It’s just a few minutes’ ride from The Spotted Goose.”

“Did you go to Bandishire often?”

“When I was young. My mother would take my brother and me with her when she came. She’d stop at every shop in the village and buy something. It was never anything she needed but we returned to Mayfair each time with our carriage piled high with packages.” He smiled and suddenly wondered how he could recall something so pleasant when what had happened the last time he and his mother were here should have tarnished his memories of this place forever.

“Do you still have some of the things she bought?”

“No. She almost always gave them away when we went back to London.”

“Then why did she buy them?”

“She said the people of Bandishire relied on us to earn a living and we had an obligation to make sure they could provide for their families.”

She looked back out the window. “Who makes sure they’re provided for now?”

Gray ignored her question. He hadn’t given any thought to the people his mother had always been so concerned about. He couldn’t.

“What kind of man is Mr. Wattich?”

He was thankful she asked the question because that pulled his thought away.

Gray leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He’d removed his gloves earlier and every sway of the carriage along the rough road caused the soft silky fringe on her cloak to brush over his outstretched hand
s. “He’s a decent enough fellow.” He shifted his fingers so the fringe cascaded over his flesh. “He’s most often the spokesman for the workers when they have a problem.”

“Do you think he’ll be willing to sell?”

“For the brewery’s sake, I hope so.” Gray let the fringe drop from his fingers. “Adding the King’s Crown to Bradford’s tied properties was a great advantage. The amount of ale they’ll require in a year’s time should allow you to recoup the money it took to buy the inn in five or six years’ time. But the amount the King’s Crown purchases will be nothing compared to what TheSpotted Goose will buy.”

He
almost smiled when her eyes opened wide. Almost.

“How much do you think Mr. Wattich will ask for his inn?”

Gray noticed the way she clutched her reticule to her middle and fought the heavy weight that plummeted to the pit of his stomach. “More than you have, Maggie, my love.”

Her face paled. “Then why are you here? You could have let me fail on my own.”

He relaxed back against the cushions and smiled. “I could have. But the thought of being confined with you in a cozy carriage for the greater part of a day was too tempting to let pass.”

She gave him a murderous glare, then pulled her cloak tighter around her.

“The weather’s turning colder,” he said noticing the heavy gray sky for the first time. “Would you like to come sit next to me to keep warm?”

“I’d rather freeze, thank you.”

“I must be losing my charm. Most women are eager to let me keep them warm. But you’re not most women, are you?”

“No. I’m not.”