Blythe rubbed her arms as goose flesh rose over her skin as he drew near. He was a tall man, wide shouldered and he made her feel decidedly uncertain. “How did you get in here?”
He pointed behind her with one long arm. “The window.”
Her gaze caught on the bandage wrapped around his hand, hiding the injury that must have caused her to faint earlier in the day. She shuddered, spun around, and lifted the window pane high. “Then you can go out the same way you came in, you pirate. I have nothing to say to your kind.”
“My kind?” He crossed his arms over his chest as if he didn’t intend to move until she answered. Insufferable brute. Perhaps he lacked the wits to know he shouldn’t be here. His brow rose. “You didn’t complain when you were snug in my arms. I think I’ll stay a while.”
When he had burst through the window of a room twenty feet from the ground, he had shocked her sensibilities completely. He had been intent on reaching her nephew and she’d tried to prevent him. Blood had dripped from his hand and she shuddered. “I don’t remember any of that.”
His face grew dark. “Why did you keep the boy from his mother?”
Blythe shuddered as she recalled the terror that had gripped her. “I had my reasons.”
“Me?”
She stared at him. Right now, he seemed an ordinary man. But that afternoon he had appeared completely murderous. She couldn’t explain in ways he would understand. She barely understood herself. She pressed her lips together. She had no need to explain to him.
“I could never hurt the boy. He is family.”
The news that Leopold Randall was her nephew’s father still didn’t sit well with her. The young duke of Romsey was Mr. Leopold Randall’s offspring—the late duke’s own cousin—and a product of blackmail rather than love. No matter that Mercy and Leopold Randall loved each other now and would marry as soon as it could be arranged. Such a situation would bring shame on the family should the shocking details be discovered. “So I’ve learned.”
He leaned against the bedpost. “You’re understandably upset. But from what I hear, your sister and my brother had little say in the decision.”
“I know that,” she snapped. Really, she did not need to receive a lecture from a man who burst into ladies bedchambers without invitation.
“Then why do you punish her with this ruse. You are scaring her.”
Blythe clenched her hands together, fighting to control her temper. “Do you not think I have the right to feel overwhelmed at this moment? My sister has lied to me for years about Edwin. She has behaved without thought to her reputation and you . . . you have taunted us all with your vulgar behavior. I love my nephew and want to protect him as I could not protect my own son. You were about to harm my sister. You could have killed Leopold. Can you not understand that a lady’s delica
te feelings may be provoked to do an irrational thing?”
He stared at her a long time. “Yes. I believe I do understand you. But you need to tell your sister this when you see her.”
“I cannot. She thinks I’m mad.”
His eyes widened. “You were awake long before now? You’ve heard the speculation.”
“I heard it all,” she said bitterly. “It had always been my intention to wake up, but some fool called the physician. Another fool posted a guard on my door.” To hide her mortification, Blythe had kept her eyes closed, her body still. A trick that she’d learned in childhood when she needed time to think.
Mr. Randall winced. “Leopold locked me in as well. I’m a prisoner, too.”
“Forgive me if I do not believe you.” Blythe lifted her chin. “Since you have the ability to escape your confinement I suggest you take yourself away.”
His lips twisted into a smile that Blythe didn’t trust. “But what happens if I am becalmed in your presence. A man like me has little opportunity to visit such an alluring lady’s bedchamber.”
Blythe set her hands to her hips. “Let me make one thing clear to you, Mr. Randall. Your glib tongue won’t work with me. I think you an utter scoundrel. A man not to be trusted and if you were not so abnormally sized, and I a lady, I would have you thrown head first from the window.”
“Abnormally sized? Lady Venables, have you been peeking at my rudder?” He gestured to his groin and chuckled. Blythe recoiled and bumped into the wall. His expression turned serious in an instant. He drew so close that Blythe could discern his shadowed eyes were brown, shot through with a bright shade of amber. “I can assure you that the ladies have never complained about my size before. In fact, they quite often beg me to return to port.”
Blythe amended her earlier description of Tobias Randall. He was a rude, vulgar-tongued pirate with a penchant for grandiose self-flattery. Given the unguarded way he spoke, he would bring disgrace upon Mercy and the Duke of Romsey within a day, if it hadn’t happened already. She glared, determined to make her disgust plain. “Then the ladies were desperate women indeed. Were you the only man to choose from after years without? Now, get out.”
He blinked slowly. As he opened his eyes again, he shifted his body closer until he stood inches from her chest. He radiated so much heat that her own skin grew warm with embarrassment. It had been a long time since a man had stood this close to her and caused such a reaction. The last to do so had been her late husband. Although the action would suggest she feared him, she slid along the wall.
He tilted his head to the side and he studied her. “Not mad,” he whispered. “Just very, very, unfriendly. Don’t worry. I’m not drunk enough to bed you without causing myself considerable pain. My rudder would likely suffer injury should I dare to dock at your port. Splinters, you know.”
Blythe gaped. How dare he say such a thing to a lady!
Before she could stop him, he brushed his finger beneath her chin. She snapped her mouth shut. Then, to her shock, he vaulted out the window, one large hand locked on the window frame, and dangled there, twenty feet above ground. He poked his head back inside the room momentarily. “Try not to miss me too much, B.”