Page 5 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

She looked up at him. “Was what good?”

“Our time together.”

She didn’t answer and he blinked a few times to clear his vision and spy the slight smile on her lips. Maybe it had been excellent. He bloody hoped so. Whatever had occurred between them had left him in agony.

When she pulled the sheets over his chest and tucked them around him, he cast his gaze slowly over the curves in front of him. Without an apron, he had a better view of a curving waist and generous hips—the sort of hips a man wanted to grab. He even found himself flexing his fingers.

Stilling, he looked down at the sheets atop him and fingered the fabric. “Not mine,” he muttered.

These were no expensive, luxurious sheets, but scratchy, simple ones. And come to think of it, the narrow bed with a lack of a canopy and decadent silk fabrics trailing from it could not be his either.

“Drink this.” She put a hand behind his head, urging him to crane his neck just enough to take the liquid from a wooden cup.

“You’ll kill me.”

“It’s laudanum. For the pain.”

Laudanum sounded pleasant. And this pain was growing excruciatingly distracting, pounding through his body and stopping him from thinking properly. He had little idea why she wanted him out of his senses but at present, he did not much care, so he drank the bitter liquid and sank gratefully onto the pillow. She paused to eye him.

“Beautiful,” he said, unable to stop himself.

He supposed it did not matter much. She already knew as much with all those men fawning to get close to her. It rather surprised him she had not married already. A woman like her could gain herself a rich husband and escape the drudgery of working as an innkeeper easily enough surely?

“You know, I am handsome.” He slapped a hand on his chest, aware the laudanum had already moved through his body, making his limbs feel warm. “And you are handsome. We should be handsome together.”

Adam let his hand flop to the side and frowned to himself. Oh dear. Had he just proposed marriage somehow?

∞∞∞

There was no chance Rosie would let herself feel flattered by his slurred words. The man likely had little idea what he said considering she had kept him dosed with laudanum whenever she could rouse him. The physician assured her the wound had done no lasting damage, it would take time to heal and likely left him in quite a lot of pain.

But he would live, thank the Lord.

She took a clean cloth and folded it then dipped it into the bowl of water at the bedside. Thankfully Dr. Hartley was discrete and would say nothing of her unexpected guest. The last thing she needed was people to know a man had been stabbed at her inn. She promised her parents she would make this place her living and continue their hard work. If it became known the pub was dangerous, she would see a sharp drop in patrons.

Ringing out the cloth, she dabbed the sweat from his forehead. The creases in his forehead lingered, as though he were in pain even in sleep. She would not be surprised. The stab wound looked to be deep, even if it had not killed him. She shook her head, rung out the cloth and wiped down his neck where stubble had sprouted.

She’d managed to keep his presence here secret for two days—well, almost secret. Harriet knew but she would never do anything to harm the fortunes of the inn. However, he would need at least two weeks to recover. How long could she keep him hidden and would someone come looking for him? A wife perhaps?

Rosie stepped back and glanced him over. He did not seem married. But that did not mean much. Many married men came here to pretend they were not married for a while. Maybe he came to escape his wife, though surely she would recognize him if he lived locally.

With any luck, he was a traveler, passing through, and anyone at his destination might merely think him delayed. She did know, however, he was rich indeed. Richer than she had initially anticipated. In his waistcoat pocket, she’d discovered a beautiful timepiece and a sizeable sum of paper money. Which was even worse for her. Not only had someone been stabbed at her inn but someone important had been stabbed.

Someone important and handsome.

He wasn’t wrong about that part. Something about his vulnerable expression tugged at her far more than the smug smile he’d tried to enchant her with the other night. His perfectly shaped lips were relaxed, surrounded by dark stubble that sprouted almost instantly.

And she did not even want to think about his body. Whilst she should not have even registered it, she could not help but note the strong thighs that hinted at a man who rode horses for more than just work and the hard ridges of his stomach and shoulders. Even now, recalling the image made her wonder if she should be dampingherselfdown and not him.

She shook her head to herself. He might be an arrogant cad, but he did not deserve her practically salivating over his body whilst he was scarcely lucid.

She set the cloth onto the tray at his bedside and gave into the temptation to push a curl from his forehead. How ridiculous she was, feeling anything other than matronly concern for him. She should be worrying about figuring out who tried to hurt him and ensuring they never set foot in her place ever again.

And most certainly not practically sighing over the pure beautifulness of him. If people thought her the Beauty of Buttermere, they had never seen him. He deserved the nickname far more.

Suddenly, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and drew her down. “Oh!” She pressed a hand to the side of the bed to stop herself from crushing and hurting him.

His eyes remained clamped shut but he muttered something nonsensical and hauled her closer. Surprisingly strong, his grip on her wrist prevented her from escaping before he latched his other arm around her shoulders and forced her face into his chest. Her nose scrunched against the dark, curling hair on his chest, she struggled against his determined hold and twisted her head to the side to gulp down a breath of air.

---