A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

“Oh I dare,” he said in that cold voice. “I dare a great deal.”

For an awful moment she thought he was going to urge his mount closer and she wondered if she should turn and run to the safety of the church. But he must have seen the panic in her eyes because he laughed.

“Do not fear, I will not hurt you. Not yet. I mean to save you for last.”

The next moment he’d wrenched his mount around and galloped off, down the hill toward the village. Shocked, shaking, Marissa ran a few steps after him, and saw him take a sharp turn to the left, away from the coaching inn, where the others had gone, and vanish between a row of cottages.

Chapter 7

Valentine carried Jasper into the inn and up the creaking staircase, into a chamber above. By the time the doctor arrived at the vicar’s behest, his friend was lying on the bed, pale and in pain, but awake. Perhaps he would be better unconscious, Valentine thought with a grimace, as the doctor opened his bag and took out some sharp-looking instruments.

“The bullet is still lodged in his shoulder,” he announced, slipping on a pair of glasses. “I will need to remove it and dress the wound.”

Lady Bethany moved closer and took Jasper’s hand firmly in hers. That was when Valentine decided he was no longer required, and made a hasty exit, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the sight of blood, it was just that he preferred not to see too much of it. Especially when that blood belonged to one of his closest and oldest friends.

A servant hurried by, giving him an odd look. Self-consciously, Valentine pulled his jacket tighter across his bare chest and buttoned it. His shirt was still upstairs with Jasper but he was unlikely to be wearing it again, considering the state of it. He used it as a bandage because there was nothing else, never thinking twice, until he’d seen Marissa.

The image of her was suddenly right there in front of him and he knew it wasn’t possible he could have mistaken the look on her face. Valentine groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. Just because Vanessa had shuddered at his merest touch didn’t mean all women were the same…did it?

Marissa’s gaze on him had been like liquid fire, singeing his skin, lapping his body, burning him. He’d felt his cock jutting out like a prize stallion. Valentine never lost control of his passions, but in that moment he’d honestly wondered if he was about to spill in front of her. She had done that. The carnal force they were generating between them had done that.

God help him if he ever actually touched her bare skin. He’d probably self-combust. They’d find his body smoldering away and never know why.

The thought was humorous in a black sort of way, and he grinned as he continued down the creaky stairs and out through the door. But his smile vanished when the first person he saw was the source of his physical discomfort. Marissa had arrived with the two horses. A hostler was just helping her down from the saddle to the cobbles—there was a flash of stockinged calf above her riding boots. Safely on the ground, she shook out the skirt of her riding habit and reached up to adjust her hat, brushing back the veil that had fallen over one eye.

Valentine stood and admired her pale skin and dark hair, allowing his gaze to follow the trim curve of her waist and the voluptuous swell of her bosom in the tight emerald green jacket. Already he could feel her effect on him beginning to take hold, and he had to give himself a stern talking-to before he felt able to approach her with the required decorum.

“Miss Rotherhild,” he called in a hearty voice that sounded horribly false even to his own ears.

She jumped like a frightened filly and looked at him with huge dark eyes and it was only then he knew something was very wrong.

He reached her in several strides and took her arm in a firm grip. As he thought, she was trembling. He wanted to hold her, to wrap his arms tight about her and draw her into his body, where he knew she fitted so well. If they hadn’t been in such a public place he may well have done so.

As if she’d read his mind she stepped away, putting space between them, clearly making an effort to regain her usual calm. “He came back,” she said.

“He?” Valentine growled, hoping she didn’t mean who he thought she meant.

“Baron Von Hautt. He came back after you had gone.”

His anger and frustration were difficult to contain. He made a sound in his throat, took a step away and then spun around and came back again. “I should never have left you there alone,” he said with a low, intense fury.

“You couldn’t have known—”

“I should have waited for you.”

“Lord Jasper needed help.”

He fixed her with a compelling look. “Did he hurt you, Marissa?”

She shook her head and a lock of her dark hair tumbled onto her cheek. “He frightened me, that’s all.”

He glowered at her, although it wasn’t Marissa he was upset with and she seemed to know that.

“What are we going to do now?” she said after a moment.

“That depends on Jasper,” he answered her more moderately. “He may have to remain here until the doctor thinks it’s safe to move him. You and I and Lady Bethany can of course return to Abbey Thorne Manor, but while we’re here I’d like to visit the ruins of Montfitchet Castle and talk with this Mr. Jensen, the local historian.”

“No, the baron mustn’t stop you from doing what you came to do, Valentine,” she said with approval. She took a couple of steps toward the inn, her silk skirts rustling. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Will we see how Lord Jasper and my grandmother are managing?”