The Courtship (Sherbrooke Brides 5)

Her eyes were closed. He leaned forward to kiss her. Her mouth didn’t move beneath his. “Helen?”

He pulled back just a bit.

She was unconscious. And damn him for a beast, he was still hard, deep inside her.

10

LORD BEECHAM CAME UP beside her and carefully rolled her onto her back. He saw the blood now, seeping through her wet hair just behind her left ear.

Something had struck her. He looked up. The sleeting rain was so close, the rubble flattening beneath its force. He pulled down her clothes, fastened his breeches, and sat back on his heels.

He shrugged out of his riding jacket and covered her with it. There was nothing else he could think to do. He was afraid to move her. But just lying there like that she would surely get chilled, and that could be dangerous. He eased her as far away from the rain as he could. His back was pressed to the wall. He stretched out beside her and pulled her tightly against him. “I’m sorry, Helen. You saved my lustful hide and you’re the one who got hurt. It will be all right now. We will just stay here until you come back again.” He kissed her ear and pulled his jacket more firmly over her.

They had been on their way to Dereham to find a text on ancient Persian. Now they were lying pressed against each other, soaking wet and Helen was unconscious, with a collapsed roof not two feet away.

It was at that moment that he realized it was getting toward late afternoon. It would get colder as the hours passed. What if it did not stop raining? He closed his eyes, his cheek pressed against hers.

He knew he could carry her, but not all that far, surely not far enough to make any difference. He doubted he could even get her back to the country road. And if it continued to rain like this?

No, they had to remain right here. No choice. He slipped his hand between them and pressed his palm against her breast. To his relief, her heart was beating slowly and steadily. He could do nothing but wait.

He thought about his reaction to her, and was still amazed. It had been too much, far too much. He had simply never felt anything like it, the urge to have her so powerful, so very urgent, that nothing else had existed for him in those moments, just Helen and being inside her, holding her tight and tighter still until they were joined so deeply neither of them could feel anything apart from the other.

What had happened—he distrusted it profoundly, now that his body had calmed from its incredible need. An aberration, he thought, just being here in the rain, in this ruin of a cottage, seeing her beautiful blond hair straggling around her face, and he had lost all sense. He supposed that she had as well. He had enjoyed many women over the years. He had always been the one to set the pace of things, but this time he had lost himself in the dust. And he had spilled his seed inside her, something he never did. He wanted no woman pregnant by him. But with Helen, he had simply leapt off a cliff, screaming with the joy of it, and hadn’t cared what parts of him had landed where.

She had quite simply stunned him.

A woman rarely got pregnant with just one mistake. Actually, he would have spilled his seed deep inside her a second time if the roof hadn’t fallen in on them.

At least she’d had pleasure in those moments before it had happened.

He kissed her temple.

He felt her move. Relief surged through him. She had been unconscious for only about four or five minutes. “Helen,” he said against her cheek. “Helen.”

He felt her moan deep in her throat.

“Helen, open your eyes. Come back now, Helen.”

She opened her eyes.

He lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Welcome back.”

He said nothing more, waiting for her to gather herself. Her eyes were vague, just as they had been when she’d been on the edge of her orgasm. He pulled back a bit more so he could see her more clearly. To let her focus on his face.

“What happened?”

A skinny little thread of a voice, he thought, and smiled at her. “It’s all right. You saved us from being smashed beneath the collapsed roof. However, something hit you behind your left ear. There’s just a bit of blood. Tell me, how many fingers am I waggling in front of your face?”

“Too many.”

“Close your eyes, just think about nothing at all. I’m here and we’re safe. But don’t go to sleep. Whatever struck you knocked you a bit silly. Tell me when you want to count fingers again.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

He leaned down and kissed her pale mouth. “Never been hit on the head by a falling roof? Or saved the man who just lost his head over you?”

“That, too. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to race you back to the country lane. What are we going to do, Spenser?”