They were turned away here too, all the rooms having been filled. They walked down the block, feet leaving tracks in the snow.
“This will be Mrs. Miller’s,” Judah said.
The house looked very small. “We may end up sleeping at the train station,” Magdalene said. Her voice sounded hollow in the snow-dampened air.
“Chin up,” Judah said, tugging her up the steps. He tapped the door knocker on the plate and a couple of minutes later, the door opened to show a robust lady in her late fifties.
“Mrs. Miller?” Judah asked. “The innkeeper at the Doncaster Arms said you might have a room. I am Lord Judah Shield and my wife and I have been stranded by the weather.”
“Is that all the luggage you have?”
“The rest is at the station.”
She clucked. “Come in, then. I do have a small room with a double bed. Not what you quality are used to, but I’m sure young people like you can make do for a night or two.”
Magdalene turned to Judah. He caught her look of horror and raised an eyebrow, then squeezed her shoulder. The warning was obvious.
Say nothing or we’ll be sleeping at the station
.
“You are most kind,” Judah said.
“I expected guests what with the weather today, so the room is ready. Would you like to dine first? I have some fresh bread and stew. Normally I would not offer food this early in the day, you understand, but I am sure it has been a trying day for you both.”
“Thank you,” Magdalene said. “But I think I would rather go to our room.”
Judah’s expression remained distant as Mrs. Miller expressed surprise. “Oh dear, my lady, you must be soaked through. Come upstairs then. I hope your husband has a change of clothes for you in that bag.”
Of course, he had nothing of the kind, but not five minutes later she and her false husband were ensconced in a room in the back of the house. Mrs. Miller had the fire going, though she assured them that this was the warmest room of the house, because it was over the kitchen.
“I’ll have to charge extra for the coal, of course. We do not usually have fires in the bedrooms, but on a day like today it seems necessary.”
“You are too kind,” Judah said, pressing shillings into the lady’s hand and gently maneuvering her to the door.
“We are lucky there is a fireplace,” Magdalene said, a little faint at the idea of being alone with him in a bedroom. She had certainly joined the ranks of the Scandalous Cross women today.
“You’re shivering,” Judah said, pulling the one armchair in the room directly in front of the fire.
“I don’t have anything to change into.” Nor was there a screen she could change behind if she had anything.
“You can wear my nightshirt,” he said. “Take your shoes and stockings off. We can get those dry easily enough.”
“Captain! You are talking about my garments.”
“Judah,” he corrected. “You cannot afford to become ill. You will be nursing your brother soon.”
“We should go back to the telegraph desk,” she said. “My brother may have written back.”
“He told me he had no money for telegrams,” Judah countered.
“Manfred always has a few shillings to spare,” she said. “Unless George has found it and spent it on claret.”
“He was sober when he came to Redcake’s. But I didn’t give him any money, mindful of what you’ve said.”
“You keep being forced into my family’s business. I am sorry for that.”
“I love you,” he said, kneeling at the side of the armchair. “I have not stopped loving you, even though you rejected me and left me.”
“Oh, Judah,” she whispered. Why wouldn’t he let her go? Why couldn’t she do the same? She should have accepted Lord Octavian’s proposal instantly.
“Are you engaged to the baronet?” he asked.
She dropped her head into her hand and rubbed her forehead. “No.”
He made a noise, but she couldn’t quite interpret it. She squeaked though, when she found his hands above her knees, expertly removing her garters and rolling down her stockings. No man had ever touched her thighs. Her flesh heated where his fingers landed.
“Your shoes are soaked,” he said, working at the stiff leather. “And your legs are like ice blocks.”
“Kindly do not discuss my limbs,” she said, wishing his hands were on her thighs again. She felt like a damsel in distress with a knight worshipping at her feet.
“Then let us discuss the baronet. Has he not come up to snuff, or have you rejected him?”
She gritted her teeth as he pulled her wet stockings off her feet, then began to massage her toes. Should she push him away or run? Or stay . . . ? But the feelings his touch provoked could bring about madness. She could feel the sensations evoked traveling up her cold calves. As each stroke of his fingers warmed her, it sent sparks of heat into places they had no business going. Her belly, her breasts, even between her legs. Even her lips felt puffy and hot. No unmarried woman should be put in this position. She was not made of stern stuff where he was concerned.
“Magdalene?”
“Neither,” she said. “He proposed, but kindly gave me time to think it over. Then you came, before my deadline.”
“Deadline. What a romantic way to consider a proposal.” His warm hands closed around her heels.
She pulled her feet away. “They are quite warm now. You must be soaked.”
“Good point.” He sat on the floor and calmly removed his own shoes and socks, then put both sets of footwear and stockings on the screen in front of the fire. His toes were long and elegant, but pale with cold.
“Your lower attire is soaked as well,” she remarked, amazed by her own daring. She should not have looked.
“I’ll take off my trousers if you take off your petticoat and dress. They are equally damp.”
Before she could think up a reply, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Miller came in, balancing a tea tray.
“I thought you might like this,” she said cheerfully, setting it down on the trunk at the foot of the small bed.
Magdalene tucked her feet into her dress as Judah jumped up to shield her. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I believe my wife would like to rest now.”
Mrs. Miller looked her over, as if to assess if she had a reason to be tired. Magdalene let her hands creep over her flat belly. If it gave them some privacy it was worth the deception.
“Of course,” said the lady knowingly. “Dinner will be at seven. We gather in the parlor for a scripture reading at a quarter to the hour.”
“Excellent,” Judah said, rubbing his hands together.
Magdalene stared at the teapot while he moved the woman out of the room.
“No lock,” Judah reported. “I would wish for a spare chair to hook under the doorknob.”
“She will not interrupt us again. She thinks I am with child,” Magdalene told him.
Judah shook his head. “We are getting ahead of ourselves. Now, as to your engagement. Are you going to accept? Were you going to accept?”
“It matters little now. I cannot respond to him by letter or telegram. It shall have to wait until Manfred is recovered.”
“What about me? Is it too brazen for me to suggest that, if you had no feelings for me, you might have found it easier to accept the man with alacrity?”
“Pour me a cup of tea, will you?” Magdalene asked.
“If it gives you time to think.” His voice dropped into a seductive register.
She shivered, listening to the sound of the tea and cream being poured into a cup. Such quiet, domestic sounds. Outside the room it was silent, as if they were cast on a mighty ocean all by themselves. The stillness pressed in on her, just like her slimy cold garments. In that moment, she could take it no more, and began to unbutton the front of her dress. He took a flask from his pocket and doctored her tea.
She’d worn her cakie uniform, which was easy to remove, but when it was off, she still felt covered in slime. So next, she pulled off her flannel petticoat. Not good enough. The linen one was next, until nothing covered her lower limbs but her combinations.
She heard an exhalation and when she looked up, the teacup in Judah’s hand was wavering dangerously. A step brought her to him, her hand under the teacup to steady it, but it was too late. The cup tipped and half of the contents cascaded over her corset cover.
Judah swore, pungent military words. She drank the rest of the cup down, taking the warmth into her belly while he dabbed at her chest with the tea towel. How she appreciated that he didn’t flutter and move away as the baronet would have. It made her daring.
“I am tired of being cold,” she announced, and unbuttoned her corset cover. Judah moved behind her and helped her with her corset. She dashed into bed, still in her combinations. “Do not join me while a stitch of damp clothing is on.”
He stood there, damp garments hanging from his fingers. “You want me to join you?”
“How else are we to get warm?” Her teeth chattered. “You know my feet are like ice and the rest of me is not much better.”
With an unreadable expression, Judah set her clothes over the chair by the fire, then began to disrobe. Men’s clothing did not obscure the body to the extent women’s did, but she still reveled in each moment a new part of him was revealed. The muscular calf, the strong shoulder, the tight buttock.
“You are removing everything?” All of a sudden she second-guessed herself. How far was she willing to go?
“My dear girl, I am wet all over. The baggage, damp with snow, pressed against me as I walked, as did your coat.” He walked toward her.
She did not mean to let her gaze drift lower, but it did. “Oh my,” she squeaked, when she saw his manhood, jutting arrogantly forward through a nest of dark curls. She wanted to curl her fingers around it, taste it. How scandalous.
The bed sank as he climbed in. They could not avoid touching each other on the narrow mattress, but it was what she’d wanted, why she’d dared him to join her. For warmth, for one taste of scandal. She reached out her hand, inviting him closer.
“Why, Magdalene?”
“I am cold?”
He stared at her. She could see doubt in his features, and resolve. “You are nothing like a Society miss. You are too strong, too daring. I know you want to be that perfect marriage mart candidate, but I admire you so for what you truly are.”
“My character defects have not prevented me from receiving two excellent proposals,” she said, distracted by the way he put his arm around her.
“I hope mine was one of them.” His lips came down on hers then, before she could think of a response.
Could she be dreaming? Because she was quite sure she had dreamed this every night for months. Her fingers pressed into the hard muscle on his marble-cold torso. Flat disks jutted against her palms, his nipples. When she ran her nails over them, he groaned into her mouth, thrust his tongue against hers. Every inch of her body pressed against his, pliant, like an ice sculpture melting into a warm, living Scandalous Cross woman. They warmed together.
Why had she fought her ruin for so long? This was paradise. Judah’s lips left hers and she would have protested, except that they slid across her cheek and down her neck, to her collarbone. Only one garment remained between her skin and his, and it seemed as if he kissed it off. One moment, his fingers were whispering along the linen, and the next she felt absurdly hot flesh against her body. She had thought she was leaning on her elbow, sitting half up, but no, she was on her back and Judah was
everywhere
.
He moved too quickly for her to find time to protest. His hands cupped and molded her breasts, then drifted down to her waist while his mouth took over. She arched her back in response to the way his tongue raked hot streaks of pleasure from her nipples, but then his hands were on her thighs. Yes, her upper thighs. He circled her legs, coaxing them apart while she was still rattled, boneless, from the way his mouth caressed the undersides of her breasts.
Then, his fingers found the curls between her legs, but before she could react, his mouth was at the seam of her private place, hotly caressing the damp flesh open. She was a Cross girl, she knew about the pearl hidden underneath the hood there, but Judah could find it too.
She cried out, then put her forearm against her mouth and bit into her own flesh, trying to be quiet while his tongue did things she could only have imagined in her darkest, most erotic dreams. Writhing, she used her other hand to direct his head, trying to find the perfect place for his lips and tongue.
Perfection eluded her until she pulled back her legs, resting her feet on his shoulders. Distantly, she realized her toes were no longer cold. He had heated every small place on her body. But then, she forgot her body as it seized in delight, throwing her consciousness outside herself in a nimbus of stars. All because of Judah. Her head fell back and her chest heaved when she returned to earth. A few moments later, she blinked her eyes open to find Judah over her, staring down with tenderness in his eyes.
“You liked that?”
“I was born to experience that.” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “I want all of it, Judah. I want all of you.”
“Are you certain?”
“Cross women learn their bodies. I won’t conceive your child today.”
He nodded, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. She brushed it away and kissed him there.
“Just love me, Judah. We’ve both been waiting so long.”
She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he settled himself over her body. When his hot manhood nestled between her legs, a glaze came over his eyes. He was already lost to pleasure and he wasn’t even inside her. She ran her fingers down his back, his flank, then found the hard length of him. He groaned as she found her center with him and positioned the tip of him there.
Then, she found his hips with her fingers. His buttocks tightened and he thrust forward, opening her like a flower. She arched into him, moving past the pain that marked her first time, but couldn’t quite stop a cry from piercing her lips.