Chapter Three #3
“Whether my temperament has changed or not.” He burrowed his shoulders deeper into the pillows, forcing her to work harder to arrange them.
He didn’t fool her, either. She gave him a quick, cross look before she leaned against his chest to finish.
He drew a breath and felt his damned cock growing hard at her nearness.
He’d not had sex with a woman, let alone found one attractive, for so long, he’d begun to wonder if something was wrong with him.
Emma Boscastle, bless her, quite pleasantly disabused him of that disturbing concern.
She forced her voice into a patient tone even though she was clenching her teeth. “For one thing, you seemed quite reasonable today before your foolhardy act of bravery. I expect you’re regretting the impulse now.”
“On the contrary. I only wish I’d hit the other man before he got away.”
“You shouldn’t work yourself into a state.”
“I shall work myself into whatever state I feel like, and you’re not going to stop me.”
Her pretty mouth firmed. “The physician said you would be restrained if you did not rest.”
“It would take more than that bearded bag of oats to keep me down.”
“I do have brothers,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
That gave him pause.
But not for long. He was not a man to dwell upon his obstacles, only their overcoming.
“Have you ever restrained a man before?” he asked, dubiously eyeing her slight figure.
“Yes. Those brothers I just mentioned.”
“Recently?”
“Don’t be silly. They are all grown men, even if they don’t always act it.” Her gaze met his. He glimpsed a spirit quite ruthless indeed beneath her ladylike appearance. “Your famly is still in England?” she asked unexpectedly.
He thought of the journal entry he had just read. She had wanted a family of her own, it said. “Yes.”
She waited. “Well, is there anyone I should contact about your condition?”
“I have come closer to death’s door than a dozen men,” he said dryly. “The incident today does not merit alarm.”
“Your family might not agree.”
“I have a brother and sister in Berkshire,” he offered with a thin smile.
She waited again, aware he had deliberately evaded a complete answer.
What little gossip she knew of him was that he had been estranged some years ago from his father, the Duke of Scarfield, who had mistakenly believed Adrian to be the result of his young wife’s adulterous love affair.
Now, apparently, the duke had admitted he misjudged his late wife and had asked his son to come home.
Adrian’s return after an adventurous stint as an officer for the East India Company and other private irregular armies had been assumed by Society to be a sign of reconciliation.
His manner hinted otherwise.
“I think I should leave you to rest, my lord.”
“No.” His voice was imperious, but his eyes darkened as if to reveal a vulnerability.
She shook her head in bemusement. “You did get the sense knocked out of you today.”
He stared at her.
He had never before wanted to undress a woman more than he wanted to undress Emma Boscastle. Strip her naked from her graceful white neck to small feet. Give her a genuine reason to bemoan his lack of manners.
“If you think I’m lying abed for two days, then you have another thing coming,” he added.
“Gentlemen seldom suffer their indispositions with good humor.”
“Do I have to suffer alone?” he asked in a low, sensual voice.
“Would you like Devon and Drake to sleep beside you?” She stared back at him with a straight face. “I’m sure it could be arranged if you don’t wish to be alone.”
His mouth curled into a beguiling grin. “I had another arrangement in mind. Kiss me before you go.”
“For heaven’s sake!”
“You’re tempted. I can tell.”
She lowered her face to his. “And you’re delirious. At least that is the excuse I am using for your behavior.”
He regardly her calmly. “I’m a very accepting man, Emma.”
She drew her breath at his astounding confidence. “Then accept this—you are staying in bed. Alone.”
“A shame.”
Their gazes locked a silent battle of wills until Emma realized how absurd it was to allow him to unnerve her.
He had been born with a duke’s arrogance whether, as rumor went, he accepted the responsibility of his title or not.
Well, Emma was the eldest daughter of a no-less-arrogant marquess.
If she could hold her own with the Boscastles, she would remain steady on her feet before their friend.
One also had to make allowances for his head injury. Perhaps it would help to think of Lord Wolverton as one of her charges, a person of unrealized potential who needed but a rigorous polishing to shine.
“Now,” she said, sternly but not unkindly, “I want you to stay under these covers and have a nice rest. Everything will look better in the morning.”
“No, it won’t.”
She sighed. “Then it won’t.”
“What if I should require your assistance during the night?”
“It seems quite unlikely. There is, however, a bell on the nightstand for you to summon help.”
He reached up and caught her under the elbows. “Now what are you doing?” she asked indignantly.
“Summoning your help.”
He drew her down to lie beside him on the bed, testing the very limits of her patience. For a mortifying interval she found herself too overwhelmed by the unexpected intimacy of his hard, lithe-muscled body against hers to do anything but breathe. “What are you doing?” she asked again.
His mouth pressed against her ear.
“I thought you were going to fall,” he said in an undertone, shifting his steely frame to settle her onto the side of the bed.
“Yes. Right from the pot into the fire.”
His eyes glittered at her in the candlelight. From fever? From pain? Or from something that she’d do best not to identify?
“Lord Wolverton,” she said with a sigh. “You are making this difficult.”
“That man was wrong today,” he said quietly.
Her heart beat in fierce reaction against her ribs. The emotion in his eyes disarmed her. With the exception of her brothers, the men she knew rarely revealed themselves with such candor. “I don’t know what you’re taking about. I don’t think I want to know. That blow on the head—”
“You aren’t cold at all.” His knowing gaze flickered over her. “There are secret fires inside you, Emma.”
She blushed at this foolishness. “Don’t be—”
“—honest?” He leaned forward to capture her face in his hands. “Kiss me once and I shall prove it. Humor me if nothing else.”