All About Love (Cynster 6)

"Where was I?"

"You hadn't arrived yet. I'd just turned Horatio over and realized he really was dead when I heard you striding up the path."

"And?"

"I thought you might be the murderer coming back for the body. I hid."'

A frown formed in his eyes. "Where?"

She

kept her eyes glued to his. "Behind the door."

His eyes hardened; so did the planes of his face. The arms about her tightened. She'd imagined telling him that she'd been the one who had hit him with the halberd a hundred times, but she'd never imagined doing it while naked in his arms.

"You hit me?"

"I didn't mean to! I realized you weren't the murderer and stepped forward to speak to you, and the halberd overbalanced."

He stared into her eyes for a long, long minute; then the muscles in his arms relaxed. "You tried to stop it. That's why it didn't kill me."

She let out the breath she'd been holding. "I tried, but I couldn't. I only managed to turn it a bit." The remembered panic washed through her; it must have shown in her eyes.

He bent his head and touched his lips to hers. "It's all right." His hands smoothed over her back. "A bit was enough."

The comfort in his tone, in his touch, wiped away all resistance. She relaxed in his arms. Her gaze dropped to his lips. "Well, now you know."

His lips quirked. "I now know a great deal that I didn't go to bed knowing, but…"

She blushed and looked back at his eyes-away from those devilish lips.

"I don't know why the murderer is after you."

"I think it's because of the hat." She told him, describing it briefly. "But I don't know whose it was, and I haven't seen it since."

A board creaked directly above them. They both looked up. Phyllida paled. "Oh, Lord!"

Lucifer pulled her to him and kissed her soundly, long and deep, his hands playing over her back, her bottom. Then he released her. "Go."

Dazed and blinking though she was, she didn't wait to be told twice. She scrambled from the bed. Her breeches were at her feet; she swiped them up and sat to struggle into them. Crossing his arms behind his head, he lay back and watched her.

She stuffed her feet into her boots, then raced across the room and grabbed her shirt. Neither shirt nor breeches had buttons anymore. Horrified, she turned to him, arms wide, demonstrating. He raised a brow.

She glared, picked up her jacket, and shrugged into it. She stooped to pick up her bands, stuffed them in a pocket, then made for the door, one hand clutching the jacket closed, the other beneath it, holding up her breeches.

"I'll call on you later in the morning. Don't go anywhere before then."

His tone gave her pause; from the door, she looked back, then nodded, hauled it open, and fled.

Lucifer listened, but she was quiet as a mouse. None of his household were yet up-he always heard them going down the stairs. She'd be safe getting out of the Manor and safe enough through the wood; no one could know she'd spent the night in his bed. Both attacks on her had been planned; their murderer was not the sort to hang around on the off chance where someone might see him and grow suspicious. She'd be safe getting home; he trusted her to reach her room undetected, not that it was of any truly great moment, but she would worry if she were seen.

The thought gave him pause. He lifted the sheet and looked down. Blood spotted both sheets.

He lowered them, then looked across the room to his exceedingly sharp cavalry saber, standing propped in the chest. Obviously, he'd been unable to sleep, thought he'd heard a noise, and gone to investigate, carrying the saber. He'd nicked his leg, but hadn't noticed in the dark. Then he'd decided to try out Horatio's bed, to see if sleep came easier there. It had. Simple enough.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let his mind revisit the night. His lips curved in a wicked smile.

"I want to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage." The words were amazingly easy to say. Lucifer turned from the window overlooking the Grange lawns and faced Sir Jasper. Seated behind his desk, Sir Jasper beamed. "Excellent!"