The Royal Conquest (Scandalous House of Calydon 4)

“Are you hurt anywhere? I felt no broken bones, but that does not mean there was no injury.”

He felt no broken bones. It was impossible to hold back the sharp tremor of uncertainty that quivered through her. “Did you check for injuries before or after you undressed me?” Everything in Payton screeched to a halt when the words barreled from her mouth. Painful heat scorched her cheeks. The situation was so unusual and mortifying.

“I had the presence of mind to do so before I undressed you.”

Was it her imagination his voice had gone huskier?

“Where are you hurt?” The concern in his tone was evident, but mistrust sliced through Payton. She tensed and then stifled a moan. Her body felt stiff, and there was a throbbing ache along her left hip, but no serious pain. Thank heavens.

“Are you a doctor?”

A decidedly imperious brow rose. “No.”

She scowled. “Are you related in any way to a profession that would deem it suitable for you to examine my person?”

His lips twitched, and she wanted to growl. The maddening man found her amusing, when the situation called for anything but humor. A disaster of the scandalous and unrecoverable type loomed on the horizon.

“No,” he finally answered.

“Then I am not hurt, thank you.”

“I am relieved you are not injured. I mean you no harm, Lady…”

Her wariness must have been apparent, yet he looked at her expectantly. Payton almost snorted. As if she would reveal her identity. She sat up fully on the edge of the narrow but well-padded bed, clutching the blanket to her throat as if it were a lifeline. The stone floor beneath her bare feet was cold, and she barely prevented herself from acting too jittery.

She needed her wits about her, and it was crucial for her to appear unafraid. “I must warn you, Mr. Konstantinovich, I know how to fight, very well.” She narrowed her gaze in what she hoped was a sufficiently threatening manner. “So I caution you to keep your distance while I go about my business, or else you will sorely regret it.”

Surprise flashed across his features, then a smile of possibly admiration lifted his lips. He held out his arms in a non-threatening manner, as if a man so darkly handsome and intimidating, with the grace and power with which he had moved, could be innocuous. Of what sort of man was she at the mercy?

He regarded her with an obvious amusement that irked her.

“I am a guest and friend of the Duke of Calydon. I was in the stables when you entered. I thought you might have been a thief, absconding with my prize stallion. I followed, and I witnessed your need.”

She stiffened, searching his face, probing and assessing. “I am no thief, and your assumption is offensive, sir. I, too, am a guest. What is most suspicious is you being in the stables at four in the morning. If there were a thief…it certainly was not me.”

The blasted man laughed, and the sound was so rich and masculine, it caressed her senses with wicked allure.

“I was bedding down in the loft, and I was not the one skulking around.”

“I was most certainly not skulking around. Ladies do not skulk,” she gritted out.

A friend of the duke was bedding down in the stables?

He frowned thoughtfully and then gave a firm nod, answering whatever question plagued him. “No…it was skulking.”

Arghh. Why was she allowing him to nettle her so, when the most important matter had not been addressed? “Where are my clothes, sir?”

Payton did not enjoy being so brusque, but it was impossible to pretend politeness. All of the lessons in decorum her aunt had relentlessly instructed seemed silly in this moment. She certainly could not remember any deportment lessons on what to do if one found oneself naked with a strange man in a remote cottage. Actually, if her memory served, she was supposed to scream, possibly swoon, and if he were rich and titled she should do all in her power to ensure they were compromised. She snorted in the most unladylike manner, and a dark brow lifted in question. As if his casual display of arrogance would prompt her to share her private thoughts.

A quick glance around the cabin did not reveal her garments. “My clothes, if you please, sir.” She controlled the wince at her acerbic tone. Though she didn’t need to contain her reaction, the blasted man remained unflappable at her ire. Most gentlemen would excuse themselves, not stare at her with such shivering intensity.

“They were soaked, and you were trembling as if from a seizure. I cut the breeches from you, as the rain plastered it to your skin in a manner that made it difficult to simply pull from your body.”

“Good heavens,” she said horrified.

“However, your shirt and undergarments are drying by the grate.”

“I have a strong constitution; you could have left me clothed,” she said, unsure if she should be appalled or grateful at his impertinence.

“Do you?” His amused murmur washed over her.

A mass of hair that had been loosely pinned tumbled down her back; the icy water still soaking her strands wetted her neck and shoulders. Water trickled down her forehead, and she instinctively raised a hand to swipe it away. When cold air washed over the top of her breasts, she scrambled to draw the blanket to her throat.

A sharp indrawn breath from her rescuer had her fingers clenching reflexively on the blanket. Something heated, predatory, and dangerous swirled in the depths of his eyes, before his gaze hooded, and Payton was suddenly too petrified to move. Awareness of her vulnerability seeped into every crevice of her being. Despite the frigid night air, a bead of perspiration trickled down her spine, along with more rivulets from her hair. Payton would rather die than release the blanket to shift the heavy wetness from her neck. As circumspectly as possible, she catalogued every potential weapon in the small cottage: a poker iron, a carafe, a kettle, a china doll, and what looked like a broom.

Her heart clamored, but she held his gaze, afraid to look away lest he pounced. His unwavering stare prompted her into speech. “I am grateful for your assistance, and I thank you. Forgive my brusqueness, but it is not every day I wake undressed in a cottage alone with a stranger.” Good Lord. It was his turn for his fingers to grip the armrest of his chair.

Maybe it was a terrible idea to remind him she was naked.

She attempted to smile. “I would be grateful if you would leave, so I may have some privacy.” Thankfully her voice had not betrayed her nervousness.

Sudden laughter gleamed in his eyes. His gaze swept the tiny one room cottage, and then he looked at the door rattling under the power of rain and thunder raging outside. “No,” he refuted with a low drawl, then inclined his head in mock politeness. “I fear we will both be denied the thing we want the most now.”

His response jolted her, and her heart stuttered. She didn’t need to wonder what he desired. His midnight gaze bore into her, a searchlight, as it caressed over her face. The very thought of him desiring her had a curious effect on Payton’s senses. Slow, laden heat surged through her body, and it was not cold that had her nipples beading beneath the coverlet. The mash of fear and fascination made her feel ill.

Good Lord, what is wrong with me?

Never had she physically reacted so to a man, not even Lord Jensen, to whom she had been engaged. She’d only found Lord Jensen’s embrace and kisses mildly enjoyable, but this man’s bold stare was mystifyingly intriguing.

“You are being ungentlemanly, sir.”

“I did not claim to be a gentleman. Though I will admit if the weather was different, I would grant you the privacy you seek.” He waved to the door. “I will not prevent you from leaving if you wish.” His words were a taunt, and she did not miss the way he straightened in the chair, as if anticipating her actions.

Payton wanted to toss her head and inform this man she would leave if he would not, but a wind howled, long and mournful, mocking her silent assertions. She searched for a clever and witty response, but could not find her tongue.

“Tell me, why were you traipsing about th

e stable at such an indecent hour dressed in that manner?”

“I do not have to explain my actions to you, sir, but I ride more comfortably without skirts hampering my movement. And that is all I sought this morning, the freedom to ride without judgment.” Lest he saw her body’s reaction and thought it was an invitation. It was certainly not.

“Hmm,” he murmured noncommittally, steepling his long fingers on his muscular thighs.

Heat climbed her neck for noticing his virility. The flickering light from the fireplace illuminated the stark lines of his face and highlighted his strong jaw. He was unquestionably masculine and handsome, but also an unknown man who was staring at her with an expression she’d never encountered on another person. Payton’s emotions vacillated between anger, apprehension, and intrigue. “You are staring, sir.” Please act more gentlemanly and avert your eyes.