Baron of Bad (Lords of Scandal 5)

Grace didn’t reply. Which was somehow so much worse than when she got angry.

They sat in silence for the longest time. An hour, perhaps more. The sky turned grey, which suited his mood perfectly. But just as they reached the next village on the route, it began to rain. Light at first but then fat drops began to shower down over them. Grace did press into his side then and he wrapped an arm about her to keep her dry or at least warm.

By the time they’d reached the stables, it was pouring, soaking their clothes through. “At least my dress will be cleaner,” Grace stuttered through chattering teeth.

He smiled even as he reached the public barn, two grooms coming out to greet them. “We’ll have to stop until the rain lets up.”

She nodded as he helped her down.

It was the only time, in his entire life, that he’d wished for rain. In fact, he’d spent most of his childhood wishing that damn stuff away. But today, he’d be cozy inside a warm room with a soft woman that he might just have to strip down to make sure she’d dried. He had a whole new appreciation for water falling from the sky.

Chapter Eight

Even in Ben’s coat, Grace shivered again. Her hair was wet, her cheeks soaked with rain, her dress saturated with water.

Ben helped her from the bench, holding one hand in his much larger palm as his other wrapped about her waist. He didn’t even bother to set her down as he sprinted for the inn. A large fire roared in the common room and he set her in front of the flames as he searched out the innkeeper to secure rooms. “We beat the crowds,” he said as he returned. “I was able to get two.”

Grace frowned. She didn’t want to sleep in a bed alone. In fact, she quite liked being tucked against his side warm, safe and so snug against his large frame. “Excellent,” she murmured as she spread out her dress, hoping to help the light fabric dry faster.

“I’ll get us some stew and then we can go to our rooms.” He held out his elbow to lead her to a table.

The stew did warm her but as they headed up the stairs, she immediately began to feel cold again. Her dress was still damp and without the fire, she started to shake again. “I wish I’d known I’d get abducted. I would have worn something more practical.”

He smiled as he tucked his arm about her. “You’ll have to take off your clothes to dry them out.”

“And my hair too,” she replied, feeling her wet coif. She’d twisted a braid and pinned it to the back of her head, which had seemed sensible this morning, but now it held in water.

He sucked in his breath, she heard the soft sound and her eyebrows went up. “I’ll see if I can’t find you a comb.”

“Thank you,” she answered as he inserted a key into the first door.

“Our rooms connect.” He pushed open a door to a room that was much larger than the last they’d stayed in. After dropping her hand from his elbow, he crossed and opened the interior door to the other room. “They are equal size,” he reported, standing in the doorway.

Grace shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a peg on the back of the door. There was a fire going and she crossed the room to stoke the flames before she began pulling pins from her hair.

Her back was to Ben but she knew he was still there, standing in the door between their rooms. He hadn’t made a sound but she could feel his gaze and her skin heated at the knowledge. The braid unfurled and fell down her back. She pulled off the cloth she’d used to tie it at the bottom and began to pull apart the three sections of hair, shaking them out as she went. When the strands hung down her back like a wet curtain, she looked over her shoulder. “Since you’re still here, would you mind helping with my dress?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Grace felt a pinch of regret. She knew he had an affection for her mane of hair and she was using that knowledge against him.

“Of course,” he answered, stepping toward her.

She left her hair swinging down her back, forcing him to push the strands aside. He reached for the hair, letting it run through his fingers before softly placing the silky mass over one shoulder.

Then his fingers began, once again, working the row of tiny pearl buttons. She turned to look back

at his face, which in turn pushed some of her hair back in his way. His face tightened as he gently pushed the hair back again.

Her plan was working. She had no intention of sleeping in this room alone and thus far, Ben had been exceedingly good at avoiding her advances. Which had hurt her pride a bit. As did the knowledge that her affection for him was one-sided. Since he’d already proclaimed that he’d marry her, she might as well make sure their union was enjoyable for both of them. The thought of being smitten alone…well that sounded dreadful.

He reached the last button and she shrugged the dress down her arms, pushing it off her body. Ben began untying her corset, which joined the dress on the floor. She grabbed the wooden chair seated at the writing desk and sat, holding up one boot. “Would you?”

Without a word he bent down and began unlacing the boots, pulling the shoes from her feet. When his fingertips grazed down her calf, she smiled even as her insides tightened in anticipation. A breathless excitement fizzled in the air, almost tangible enough to touch.

Grace stood in her stocking feet and reached under her chemise, pulling down the damp pantaloons underneath. She heard him suck in his breath and he reached for her hip, grasping her softer flesh in a tight grip. “Grace,” he groaned out, low and guttural. “You go too far.”

She looked up at Ben as his dark gaze stared down at her. She pressed her hands to his chest, resting on the hard muscles beneath. “I’m freezing.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and his gaze followed the movement. “Aren’t you going to help warm me up?”

He pulled her closer, his head dropping. “You’re a witch, you know that don’t you? You’re trying to cast a spell on me.”