Page 18 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
Except becoming my husband, Willa nearly said. But there was no point in prolonging the anguish of the past, not if either of them intended to move beyond that hurt.
Instead of taking a seat at the table, Dom strode right to the fireplace. He turned his back to the flames, his hands clasped behind him, and inhaled deeply as if soaking in the warmth of the fire.
Was that...steamrising up from Dom’s clothing?
A servant approached with a cup and teapot.
“If that’s not coffee,” Dom said, “I’ve got nothing to say.”
The servant bowed and retreated, before returning again with a silver pitcher and pouring coffee into a porcelain cup. Dom downed the whole scalding beverage in one swallow, held out his cup for more, and drank that with equal speed, before giving the cup back to the servant.
Willa continued to load her plate, trying not to appear too obvious as she stared at Dom. Yes, vapor was actually rising from his garments. As if... as if they were soaking wet, and struggled to dry from the heat of the fire.
Wet hair. Wet clothes. A storm that had lasted all night. And Dom had spent the evening in a bedroom that the housekeeper had said was in a terrible state. That could only mean one thing.
She battled the urge to go to him, wrap him in thick blankets, and feed him beef tea so he could find some solace and warmth. At the same time,something cold and biting slithered through her belly.
“Good Christ,” Willa muttered.
It was too early to feel such conflicting, bewildering emotions, and yet here she was, holding a plate of poached eggs and toasted bread. Comfort Dom, or brain him with a candlestick?
She slapped her plate down on the sideboard and marched to him.
At her approach, Dom regarded her warily. This close, she could see that he was indeed soaked to the skin.
Another bewildering mix of concern and anger seethed through her, and she wished to all the heavens that she could understand what it was she felt for this infuriating man.
“Hell, Dom,” she hissed, keeping her voice low so that their conversation couldn’t be heard by the nearby guests. “Am I truly so repellant that you’d choose to spend the night in an absolutemireof a room where you’rerained onand riskpneumoniarather than have the chamber next to mine?”
A corner of his mouth lifted wryly, and there was almost defiance in his eyes and in the line of his jaw as he regarded her.
“I can handle it,” he said simply. “And it’s what I deserve.”
She rocked back, stunned. This was not the answer she’d been expecting. “What do you mean,what you deserve?”
Before Dom could answer, Mr. Longbridge sauntered into the room. “With the weather turning so delightful, I propose a diversion after breakfast. I will be leading a trek around the island, and we’ll have a picnic from a scenic vantage. A fascinating place, this island, with centuries of history. Though the terrain can be somewhat rugged, so if you’re of fragile disposition, I’d warn you to remain at the house. Strong hearts only.”
There were murmurs from the guests as they debated whether or not to venture forth on the strenuous expedition.
“I’ll go,” Willa announced.
At the same time, Dom said, “I’m in.”
They shared a look, practically challenging each other to determine who would withdraw first. Though doubt flickered in his eyes, he didn’t back out.
She should stay behind, keeping the distance between them as they’d agreed. But she recalled what Celeste said on the nature of moving forward. Did Willa want to remain the same as she always had been, stay the same person—or did she want to take the bigger risk?
Willa had constantly prided herself on not being afraid, yet... that wasn’t true. There was always a fragment of uncertainty within her, a small, glowing coal of fearfulness that she tried so hard to keep banked. Yet it burned all the same. Perhaps now was the time to face it. IfDomcould, so could she.
Before that, though, she had something important to take care of.
“Mr. Longbridge.” She approached her host, who was humming to himself as he mounded food onto a plate. “Might I have a word in private?”
Following breakfast, everyone going on the trek repaired to their rooms to change into appropriate clothing and footwear. Fortunately, Willa had packed a pair of sturdy ankle boots that would serve her well on rough terrain, and she switched her silk gown for a lightweight printed muslin and coordinating spencer.
The other guests who opted to go on the rugged walk included her brothers and their wives, as well as Miss Steele, Mr. Cransley, and Baron Hunsdon. Everyone gathered in the entryway of the house, with each person suitably dressed and shod—though Dom looked a trifle uncomfortable in the sporting attire of a man of leisure, likely because she remembered how he was unused to open-air pursuits. These clothes, too, looked damp. Hopefully, the weather was warm enough that he wouldn’t catch a chill on the walk.
She shook her head at herself, fretting over whether or not Dom might get sick. He was the most hale and vigorous man she’d ever known. He could battle off the ague through sheer force of will.
