Page 30 of A Little Bit Dangerous
He tried not to think of Natasha orchestrating events from her throne in hell. His father’s wife—the woman who had turfed them all out onto the streets—would love the irony of Christian’s current predicament. What a shame she’d choked on a bone and not dangled from the gallows.
Christian kicked the door open and strode to the bed. He looked down at the woman huddled against his chest, possessiveness burning through him. Obsessed with the idea of kissing Miss Lawton again, he told himself it was an impossible situation. This infatuation would pass, but Aaron would always be his brother. And a boy who’d once lost everything didn’t risk losing his only family.
If she were anyone else …
The thought entered his mind for the umpteenth time as he laid her gently on the bed. He took the plaid blanket off the chair and draped it over her. Stole one last glance at the sleeping angel before creeping to the door.
“Mr Chance?” Her low, husky voice slipped over him like a soothing caress. “Stay a while.”
It was the most tempting invitation of his life. But he knew what would happen if they spent any time alone together.
“You need to rest, Miss Lawton,” he said, keeping his back to her. Those large brown eyes had the power to bring him to his knees. “We can talk in the morning. Good night.”
It took a saint’s resolve to leave the room. It took the Lord’s determination to close the door behind him.
ChapterSeven
The rich, aromatic smell of coffee teased Isabella awake. The distant strains of a woman singing a country tune slipped into her mind. She caught a whiff of smoked ham, her stomach growling for her to open her eyes and seek out the source.
She blinked and gazed at the ceiling, her vision blurring into a grotesque image of her father, the whites of his eyes red and veiny, the hard angles of his face twisting in outrage.
Your mother doesn’t want you.
You’re a noose around her neck.
That’s the reason she left.
Heart pounding, Isabella shot out of bed.
No one blamed her mother for running. It merely hurt that Isabella had been left behind to suffer in the devil’s den. Indeed, she had inherited the same trait and had spent her life seeking a means of escape.
But she couldn’t run forever.
How did a young woman make a stand against a tyrant?
Pestered into action by her rumbling stomach, she washed her hands and face in the china bowl on the table, then tidied her hair. Her dress needed washing, but the sky looked grey and dreary, so it would have to do for another day.
She met Mrs Maloney at the bottom of the stairs. “Good morning, Mrs Maloney. Something smells good.”
The woman’s eyes brightened. “You’re up. Bless you, dear. You slept so soundly, I feared it would take the kiss of a prince to stir you from slumber.”
Heat rose to Isabella’s cheeks at the memory of sharing a passionate kiss with Mr Chance. He wasn’t royalty, and she doubted any woman would sleep when lying next to such a charismatic man in bed.
Isabella raised the hem of her gown to reveal her stocking feet. “Have you seen my boots? I recall you yanking them off last night.” She had been too tired to argue.
“They’re at the cobblers, dear. They were almost worn through.”
“The cobblers! I haven’t another pair.”
Mrs Maloney gave a cheery smile and gestured to the sitting room. “Christian bought you new kid boots. He’s waiting for you to join him for breakfast. Best hurry, else there’ll be nothing left. That boy has a beast of an appetite.”
Isabella’s pulse soared. “Mr Chance is here?” They’d agreed not to see each other again. Flustered, she patted her hair and tried to brush the creases from her dress.
“Yes, dear. He spent the night.”
“Spent the night?” She almost choked on the words. Where had he slept? She vaguely recalled him carrying her upstairs but presumed fatigue had played havoc with her imagination. Had he sat watching her until dawn? Had she dribbled and mumbled in her sleep?
“Yes, he’ll remain here for the time being. I’ll let him explain.” And with that, she headed for the door leading to the bookshop.
