Page 7 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

She inched a hand under his head, urging him up just enough to take a few sips of water. If it weren’t for the pain throbbing its way through his gut, he might have enjoyed the tender action more, especially when it meant she had to lean over him and give him the smallest glance of her curves.

“I do not even know your name, sir. I could hardly miss you.”

“Adam,” he said. “My name is Adam.”

Setting the glass back on the table at his bedside, she went to lift the sheets.

He pressed his hands atop them, preventing her with a smirk. “I am not that sort of man.”

“Given your first thought upon waking was to enter into flirtation, I suspect you are very much that sort of man, so you need not play coy.”

Damn, the woman had the measure of him already. He let her inch down the sheets until they rested upon his hips. She viewed his dressings perfunctorily and he regretted his feeble state. Women liked his body and if he was in a better condition he would have rather liked to have rattled her with a few carefully chosen poses.

Given he couldn’t really move, he flashed a grin instead. “You can give me your name, you know. Especially considering you must have undressed me.”

“With help.” She tucked the sheets and blanket back over him.

“Or I can keep calling you The Beauty of Buttermere.”

She wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you. Besides, I am certain you must have read my name in that blasted book.”

“I haven’t read it but I should have thought any woman would be flattered to be a famed beauty.”

“It brings patrons to my inn, that’s all that matters.” She glanced him over. “Beauty is a fleeting state.”

He shook his head. “I intend to be beautiful forever.”

“You make the assumption that you are indeed beautiful.” He saw her compress her lips.

“I do not need to assume. I might have no name such as yours but believe me, I have been told it.”

Hands to her hips, she eyed him. “How is it you can wake up in a strange bed, having suffered a severe stab wound, and still be wholly confident in yourself?”

“It comes naturally to me.” He let his grin widen.

“Well, now you must rest. And I have my doubt that comes naturally to you.”

“I should return home, my brothers shall be wondering where I am.”

Her face paled. “Will they search for you?”

He considered this. It wouldn’t be the first time he had vanished for a few days and his brothers were hardly the matronly sort, but their wives might question his whereabouts. “I’m not certain.”

“You should rest. Worry about your brothers later.”

“Perhaps I should write—”

“Rest,” she ordered sharply. “The doctor said you’ll need to stay abed for some time. Maybe two weeks.” She turned away and headed toward the door. “I shall bring up some broth shortly and see if you can manage that.”

His grumbling stomach confirmed that he would indeed do whatever he needed to eat. “Do I at least get that name?” he asked.

She paused, a hand to the door handle, but did not even turn. “Miss Rosie Seymour,” she said. “You may call me Miss Seymour.”

“Think I preferred Beauty,” he muttered to himself as she left.

∞∞∞

Rosie paused outside the bedroom door and drew in a long breath then held it for a few moments. She should not be letting him rankle her. The man was recovering from a stab wound, for goodness’ sake. He could scarcely move, let alone seduce her.

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