Chapter 35 Derek
Derek
Derek assisted Lady Elliot, gripping her arm firmly as she stumbled up the steps to the front door of her rented rooms. Livy supported her aunt from the other side, occasionally stumbling herself as she tried to assist in supporting her aunt.
Derek wasn’t sure if Livy’s assistance was actually helping or making things worse.
He let out a rough breath. Soon she’d be in the safety of her home, and Derek could make his goodbyes.
Not that he was running away or anything.
Would it be rude to just dump them inside the front door and leave?
Not running away, mate?
Shut it.
“Look at me, being escorted home by such a dashing rogue.” Lady Elliot giggled. “Oh, what Nigel must think of me! You don’t hold a candle to him, Lord Dunmore.” She hiccupped. “No offense.”
“No offense taken, my lady.” Derek would have laughed, had it not required his complete concentration to keep her and Livy standing upright.
The butler swung open the door and didn’t blink an eye at his current mistress’s state. “Can I assist in any way, Your Lordship?” he intoned.
“Have a pitcher of water brought to her room, and if there are any plain baked goods in the kitchens, have a tray brought up as well. Miss Forester and I will escort Lady Elliot to her rooms.”
“Straightaway, my lord.” The butler bowed, and with a click of his heels, spun around to attend to his orders.
They approached the bottom of the stairs, and Derek paused, causing the ladies to sway precariously. Quickly wrapping his arm around Lady Elliot’s back, he managed to prevent her from falling face first into the stairs.
He leaned around Lady Elliot until he caught Livy’s gaze. “I think it will be easiest if I carry your aunt up the stairs. From there, I can assist her to her rooms, where you can take over.”
A look of relief came over Livy’s face, and she stepped back. He scooped up Lady Elliot, which elicited another fit of giggles, and made his way up the stairs. Lady Elliot poked and patted his chest and arms.
“What a fit man you are. What muscles! Olivia dear, you should feel these muscles!” She squeezed his bicep hard. “They’re like big rocks!” She craned her neck, looking for Livy, said muscles straining to keep the flailing woman and himself from toppling down the stairs.
“My Nigel was a bit softer, especially ‘round the middle. But I think I prefer that. Much more comfortable. Can you imagine being in bed with such hardness?”
A snort and choking sound came from the steps behind him, and he bit back a smile. The more he got to know Lady Elliot, the more he liked her.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he gently lowered the woman, and Livy immediately stepped forward to direct them to her aunt’s chamber.
Once at the bedchamber door, he surrendered Lady Elliot to Livy. “I should be go—”
“I’ll be down momentarily.” Livy cut him off. “Will you wait for me in the parlor?”
His mouth snapped shut, and he nodded, backing away as Livy wrapped her arm around her aunt. The two women stumbled into the bedchamber.
Damnit. Why hadn’t he just refused and begged off?
Derek had been pacing the parlor for the past ten minutes, probably wearing a hole in the already threadbare rug covering the creaking floor. He should leave. He really didn’t like whatever was happening in his chest right now. Or his head. Something was very wrong with him.
“I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you.”
Derek spun around, gaze clashing with an earnest blue one.
Livy fiddled with her skirts, uncertain.
“For tonight with my aunt and…” She glanced away, the delicate muscles in her throat working.
Like she couldn’t get the words to surface.
She probably couldn’t. To speak of that night, of what she had been through, almost been subject to.
“No need to apolo—”
“Would you like a whisky? I find myself in dire need of a whisky,” she blurted.
He faltered for a moment. “I…never turn down a whisky.”
She hurried to the sideboard, pulled two glasses out of the sideboard, and filled them with a finger of amber liquid. Her movements were jerky, rushed, like she was out of sorts. And then she raised one glass to her lips and threw back the contents in one shot.
Derek blinked. Well, then.
She refilled her glass and then made her way to him with their glasses, a smile firmly in place.
He studied her and accepted the glass. “I never asked before…but you partake in whisky often? I’m not surprised, given what I’ve learned of you thus far, but it’s not exactly an unmarried miss’s drink of choice.
” He took a tentative sip, and his eyes fell shut.
“This is much better than whatever you had stocked before.”
“I was allowed to run somewhat wild growing up. Absent father. No mother.” She waved her hand. “You know, that sort of thing. So, I drank quite often with the neighborhood boys.”
His fist clenched on his glass. “I assume these neighborhood boys included your beloved Mr. Thorton.” His words ended on a bitter note, which only made him more vexed.
The smile curling her lips was genuine this time. She took a step closer to him, rested a hand on his chest. His eyes dropped to it, long slender fingers. Ungloved. On him.
“Yes. I ran wild with Mr. Thorton,” she whispered, and his gaze flew to hers. She traced one of the buttons on his coat. “Though we were not usually drinking whisky.”
A low growl built in his chest. She was playing a dangerous game. He hadn’t any idea what had gotten into her tonight, but Miss Forester was an intelligent woman. She knew exactly what she was doing. And if she was offering, Derek wouldn’t hesitate to accept.
“Yes, I’m sure you were quite wild with the pup,” he drawled. He leaned forward. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, and she shivered. He hovered just over the shell of her ear. “But have you ever been wild with a man?”
She inhaled sharply, the sound rocketing through the quiet of the room.
He pulled back until their eyes met, and he gently coasted his knuckles over her cheek. The cheek. Rage burned its way up his veins. And ignited when he saw the pale beige face powder the movement left on his black gloves.
“Does it hurt?” he managed past the fury festering in his chest.
Her eyes searched his, and she shook her head slowly. “It looks worse than it feels now.”
“May I?”
A question flashed across those blue irises.
“See it,” he clarified.
She dipped her chin in a nod of acquiescence.
He placed his whisky down on the tea table and quickly undid his cravat. He dipped the edge in the amber liquid and stepped back in front of Livy. “There were no open cuts?” he checked, his neck cloth hovering above her cheek.
Her lips curved lightly. “None. You’re safe to cover me in alcohol, my lord.”
A bolt of lust streaked through him. “Careful with what ideas you put in my head, minx. I might just follow through.” He began gently wiping away the face powder.
“Promises, promises.”
His gaze shot to hers. A challenge glimmered back at him. He blew out a slow breath and resumed his task, revealing skin tinted a greenish-yellow hue. A bruise healing. But a bruise, nonetheless.
“The fucking bastard.” He’d kill him again if he could.
She gripped his wrist and carefully extracted the cravat from his shaking fist. He hadn’t even realized he’d been shaking.
Then she removed his gloves. Undid the buttons of his coat.
Pushed it off his shoulders. All while he stood there dumbly and let her undress him like a doll until he stood in just his lawn shirt, breeches, and dress shoes.
“He isn’t allowed here, Derek.” She spun and presented her back. Her chin grazed her shoulder, and she looked back at him, giving a meaningful glance down toward the buttons at her back. “Just you and me.”
He stepped forward and brushed a kiss to the nape of her neck, while his fingers made quick of the buttons running down her gown.
He knew what she was saying. And for all he crowed earlier about taking what she was offering, his gut twisted.
He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his hands freezing.
“Is something amiss?”
“I don’t want to make you… After what happened… Push too far too fast…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want to take advantage.”
She spun in his arms, and her hands cupped his face, grip firm. Sure. “You won’t.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It haunts me. That night. Even knowing he is gone…” Her nostrils flared. “I recoil at every touch.” Her fingers tightened on his face. “Except yours.”
His chest lit up just as she pressed her lips to his.
She pulled back, and an unsteady breath fled him. But nothing about the woman in front of him was unsteady.
Resolve stared back at him. Hard. Unyielding. “Make me forget, Derek.”
His pulse beat an erratic rhythm in his neck. She wanted to forget. He could—would—do this for her. He’d give her something to remember instead.
He gave a small nod and pulled her to him, lips falling on hers.