Chapter 4
“You should put me down. I need to get back to Greene House to—” she looked down at her wrist, not wanting to admit the pain she was in “—eat dinner.”
He cleared his throat, and the deepening pressure of his hand on her back was almost jarring with how protective it felt. “I’ll take you.”
He wasn’t a protector. He was a ruiner. It was all the smoke in the air.
She’d probably inhaled too much and now couldn’t think straight.
Couldn’t focus on the reality in front of her.
Sure, he saved the jewelry shop. And sure, he appreciated her intelligence and didn’t take all the credit of dousing the sail for himself.
But deep down she knew a damaged—and damaging—soul resided in him. No one treated a lady how he had.
“I’m fine. I can walk.” He didn’t move to let her down. “I really think you should put me down, Duke.” It was the second time she could have used his name, not wanting to pay proper respect to his title. But there was something too intimate about calling him Damien. Duke would do.
“Who are you? You haven’t told me your name.”
She huffed. And squeezed her eyes shut. There was most definitely a fog in her brain, for she couldn’t bring herself to ignore his request.
“Lucinda.”
“Lucinda,” he repeated, pulling her in tighter to his body. His warm, strong body. A body that she simply wouldn’t mind to have carrying her all the way back to Greene House. After an emotionally draining morning, she was almost willing to forgo her independence and rest in his strength. Almost.
But not.
“Put me down. I must insist.”
And her insistence was respected, languidly, but respected all the same.
As her body slid down his, she began to second guess such insisting.
And when her feet found the ground, toes first then heels, her body begged her for relief.
That is, it needed to rest. But, be that as it may, she pulled back.
Hands on his chest, she looked him in the eye to tell him she intended to go home.
But instead of those words coming out, altogether different words were released.
Though, they were more like sounds than words.
“Ooooh.” Her forehead crashed against his chest as her grip fell loose. She did not just swoon. No. That was impossible. She was not a swooner. Especially in the presence of ravishingly rakish men. Especially not when she needed most to exert her independence.
“You’re ill.” His hands were on her waist, steadying her.
And she couldn’t stop herself from thinking how nice it felt to have someone to rely upon.
That she wasn’t all alone in this world.
That there was someone who might possibly care for her.
Take care of her. That there were touches from a man that could be tender, caring, compassionate.
Safe. The thought overwhelmed her. And the feeling of safety overtook her.
It made no sense, but then the heart rarely did.
“I might just need you,” she whispered into his chest. The words were painful to admit, but once they were out, it was like a crazy banshee had been released from her body.
Like…there was some newfound peace within her.
Like the tormentor had been something she allowed into her own life and had had the power all along to relinquish. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
“I’m here for you, Lucinda.”
Taking a peek at the ground before glancing up into what she knew would be concerned eyes, she said, “Can you escort me back to Greene House?”
“Of course.” One hand moved to her back, while the other was offered at her elbow. “Just tell me where it is.”
“Just up the road. It’s the one painted yellow.”
“You mean green.” His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face back to his. “That smoke really got to you.”
“Perhaps. But no, it is yellow. I know, Greene House is yellow. It’s a whole thing.”
His lip curled up on one side and he chuckled at that. And that chuckle sounded nice. And she was sure she didn’t just imagine it, but that damn chuckle took a gentle leap and then a tuck and roll into her heart. She had to have been hallucinating from the smoke to think that.
It didn’t take too long to reach her new home, but as she unlocked the door, she realized he didn’t intend to leave right away.
“I’m home now. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will, but I’d still like to tend to your injury before I leave.”
At the intensity in his eyes, there was no point in arguing, so she led them into the house, down the hall, and into the kitchen.
“It’s nothing,” she started to say when he sat her down and took her hand in his. “Ow!”
“Apologies,” he murmured softly, brushing a small circle on her wrist. “You’ll want to wrap this for extra support.
Let me…” His voice trailed off as he turned to find some cloth he could rip into strips.
Tenderly, he wrapped the bands around her hand.
While on his knees. And she couldn’t stop thinking about the strength he exuded, even from such a humble position.
Once her wrist was wrapped, he held it longer than necessary until she finally pulled it away. Then he stood and turned around. That’s when she noticed it.
“You’re bleeding.” Lucy stood to her feet, reaching her hand out to the place on his shirt stained in red.
Damien looked down. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“That’s what I said about my wrist.” With her good hand, she turned his shoulder and sat him down in the chair. “Now it’s my turn to make sure you don’t bleed out on your way home.”
A gruff laugh left his lips, but it died as she slid his jacket off his shoulder. He let it hang on the one side while she tugged at his shirt to get to the exposed skin. His legs widened and she instinctively stepped between them.
It was scandalous. That’s exactly what it was. But she didn’t care.
Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat. But this rake? He couldn’t possibly feel awkward about this small amount of skin. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’ll just take a quick look to make sure the bleeding has stopped.”
“No. I-I—” he stuttered when her fingers grazed his ribs. Odd. “I mean here at Greene House.”
And she saw no point in glossing over the truth. It was bound to get out soon enough, especially since they were looking for two more roommates. “It’s a spinster house.”
He coughed.
“Spinster house?”
“Yes.” And she looked him dead in the eye when she told him the next part. “None of us who live here plan on marrying. I’m not marriageable, and besides…I have other plans for my life.” Now…those plans she would keep hidden. Especially from him.
“Why don’t you think you’re marriageable? You seem marriageable to me.” His eyes widened at the admission. “I mean, not to me, to me. I’m not going to marry either. But you know…to someone. Else. Other than me.” He might as well be a lumberjack for how choppy his words came out.
“Why won’t you marry? You’re a duke. Don’t you care about having an heir to take over the dukedom?” It was a touch too sarcastic, too mocking, to be directed at a duke, but she stood with her back straight and chin pointed out all the same.
“It’ll fall to my cousins.”
“Why—”
“I can see us going around in circles about this. You don’t want to share your secrets, and I don’t want to share mine.”
“True.” And since she really didn’t want to open up about her secrets, especially the truth she knew about him, she simply nodded and pulled at his shirt again. “I can’t see where all the blood is coming from. You’ll have to take this off.”
“That, I can do.” He stood, towering over her. She watched, hungrily, as he pulled his layers off. Leaving only his exposed torso. Rippling muscles, bunched in places she didn’t know had muscles. “Am I bleeding there, too?”
That’s when she realized her fingers were feathering their way down his chest. Half way down. She was so close to touching that trail that disappeared down his breeches. A shiver flew up her spine. God, she was wicked. To be tempted by this man.
But no. She didn’t need to be tempted by him. If she could do the tempting herself.
And wasn’t that just it? Her whole life men sought her.
Tried to paw her. She had left every incident unscathed, but still, it was like she was constantly being hunted.
So what if she became the hunter? What if—like Mirabelle and her had discussed—she took control of her own experiences?
And who better to hunt than an experienced man who wanted nothing in return?
It was the perfect match.
“Lucinda?” His silky voice stilled her fingers. Her itching fingers. Just a few more inches and she could take control.
“Damien…”