“We should get some whisky and at least treat the cut,” she said as she continued to examine his skin. Then she let go. “And I’ll tell you again that I’m sorry I dragged everyone shopping.”
He heard the tremble in her voice. “Love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I said t
hat. You’re right. It wasn’t your fault.” It took every muscle in his body to keep from reaching for her and pulling her close. She shouldn’t have forced the issue but she wasn’t responsible for what happened either.
She sat back, her hands clasping in front of her and her head bent. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, which made his already-aching muscles taut as a string on a bow. “I just thought that if I could marry like the rest of my sisters, I’d be safe and you’d be free of me. I know you don’t like spending time with me but clearly my efforts had the opposite of the intended effect.”
He couldn’t hold back anymore and he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. She was so close and wearing so little and he…well, his pants were down around his knees. “Do not rush into choosing a husband and Abernath is no longer a threat. Once I get you home, you won’t need to see me ever again.” Why did that idea make his chest ache? But he already knew. He liked touching her, looking at her, and increasingly, he liked being with her. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel the same.
She let out a loud sigh. “Not see you again? Don’t be ridiculous. Your friends are married to my sisters and cousins. Except for Vice and Ada of course.”
Vice and Ada? He’d left them on the road alone together. Damn it all to hell. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Grace what he’d done but she might well demand they go searching for them. Despite his assertion his leg was fine, it throbbed and he was bone-tired after chasing her all day. They’d leave in the morning and try to find the rest of their party. “I’ll go get the whisky.” He hauled himself off the bed and refastened his pants. “Lock the door behind me.”
She nodded as he headed out the door. He heard the lock click behind him. After making his way downstairs, he penned a quick note to Vice. He should say more but he didn’t like leaving Grace alone. Folding the paper, Bad instructed the innkeeper to try every inn between here and London until he found a blond man travelling with a redhead who’d answer to the name Vice. He’d pay double the rate if it were delivered tonight.
The innkeeper assured him the job would be done and Bad left, heading for the bar, where he purchased a bottle of whisky. Making his way back up the stairs, he found his chest tightening in anticipation. Bloody Christ, why was he so excited to see her? He’d only been apart from her for mere minutes.
“Grace,” he called as he knocked on the door. “It’s me.”
He heard the lock unclick as she opened the door. She’d undone her hair while he’d been gone and it hung down over one shoulder in silky blonde waves that left him stunned. He only realized he was staring when she blushed. “I was about to braid it. I’ll finish in just a minute.”
He wished he were a poet in that moment. Wished he could tell her how lovely a shade the color was or how beautiful the texture. But all he could muster was a grunt of, “That’s all right.”
She stepped back and he entered the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.
“Sit on the sill,” she instructed. “May I use your cravat to catch any liquid that flows down your leg?”
“Of course,” he answered and attempted to scoot by her while not touching her. He failed. His arm brushed the spun gold of her silky locks and, quite without meaning to, he lifted his fingers to brush the strands. Then, like a school boy, he nearly sighed with delight at their feel.
If she noticed, she didn’t let on, and he continued moving until he was on the sill with his pants down once again.
Even more alarming, with his clothing in her hand, she crouched down in front of him. His cock twitched and he gritted his teeth. She was most decidedly a virgin and not ready for his rutting lust. He closed his eyes and willed his body back under control. Fortunately, cold burning liquid scorched down his leg, making him forget his feeling of need. When he opened his eyes again, she’d stood, still holding the bottle. “There,” she said. “You’re done.”
He drew in a deep breath. If she didn’t go to sleep soon, he might not survive the night. “Now, why don’t you take a drink? Just a small one. It’ll help you fall asleep.”
She shook her head, staring at the liquid. “I couldn’t.”
“Trust me,” he replied, standing. He reached for the bottle and wrapped his fingers about hers. “Just one small sip will help you sleep. No more than that.”
She squinted her gaze. “I’ve heard that spirits lower your inhibitions.”
“They can,” he said.
“Is that why you want me to drink?” She squared her shoulders, looking up at him with large blue eyes. “Are you attempting to take advantage of me?”
Chapter Five
Irritation made her fingers tighten on the bottle. Why on earth had she just said that? They’d been alone in a room together for over an hour. He’d not done a single inappropriate gesture. The only one of them who was struggling seemed to be her.
While pouring whisky on his bare skin, she’d longed to run her hands over the dark hair dusting his legs. Truth be told, she’d wanted to taste the whisky wetting his flesh. Her nipples had turned to pebbles and her body ached with need.
Then, he’d gone and touched her, his hand wrapping about hers. If she didn’t push him away, she’d likely make a complete fool of herself. She might be an innocent but she knew enough about men to know they preferred to chase a woman and not the other way around.
“You think I’d take advantage of you?” he said between closed teeth.
Her nose wrinkled, and she nibbled on her lip. This was exactly why he didn’t like her. She was an idiot. “I…no, of course not, it’s just…” What did she say? His breeches were still about his knees, her hair was down, and together they clutched a bottle of whisky. If the ton could see her now.
“It’s just what?” he asked, leaning closer.