Page 26 of Pride: The Rogue
Safe.
Safe from what, exactly?He didn’t harm you, and you were all too eager to be held and caressed by him,the devil in her head taunted.
Livian drew in a slow, deep breath through her nose and let it out even more slowly through her mouth.
Either way, she didn’t have to think about her body’s shameful response or the way it’d felt being held by a man—a big stranger who’d disarmed her as easily as he might’ve a child—for the simple reason this would be the last she’d ever—
Click.
What?
The panel moved against her back.
Before she’d even fully registered what was happening, Mr. Latimer unlocked the door, edged it open carefully enough to push her forward, but not knock her over, and slip—as much as a towering figure such as he could—inside.
Mouth agape, Livian stared at the enigmatic stranger; the same enigmatic stranger she’d onlyjustassured herself she’d never see again. “What…I don’t…How…?”
Wordlessly, Mr. Latimer held up the key—his key.
And then it hit her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Itisyour room.”
Pressing her fingers against her temples, she wandered aimlessly about her accommodations—Mr. Latimer’s accommodations.
She’d shared her relation to the Earl of Maxwell with the innkeeper to ensure herself greater protection, but never hadshe sought to curry his favor and certainly not to have some guest he’d already installed thrown out because of her.
Stricken, she lifted her gaze.
Mr. Latimer remained silent by the doorway.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
He grunted.
How peculiar he appeared more unsteady now than all the times she’d spent assaulting him.
“Is Mr. Lovelace a man who needs a good beating?” he asked quietly.
A vein bulged in Mr. Latimer’s thick, strong, neck, as well-muscled as the rest of him.
Why, he’sangryon my behalf. A beautifully warm, gentle heat unfurled slowly throughout her entire being.
Here she’d spent the better part of, she knew not how long since his arrival time ceased to exist, fearing Mr. Latimer. He’d restrained her but not hurt her. He’d ceased kissing her when she’d demanded he stop.
Now, Mr. Latimer’s bear-like growl filled the room.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Mr.Lovelace—” Livian struggled to wrap her mouth around the name. The only Mr. Lovelace around in her time had been a grandfather she’d never even known. “Is a…” fictional, “good man,” she allowed.
“Do you not wish to sleep in his rooms?” he asked with such directness she blushed.
Apparently, Mr. Latimer hadn’t been satisfied with Livian’s reassurances.
A wistful smile played at her lips. “Mr. Latimer, are you suggesting, this very room you and I have battled over, you’d now freely give if I tell you Mr. Lovelace is a monster?”
He met her question with stony silence.
As it was, he needn’t answer. His penetrating expression said all too clearly; the gentleman would give up his chambers if Livian’s husband were a brute.
