Page 13 of Temptress in Disguise
Miss Grant studied every toned muscle. Her gaze softened as it moved to the disfigured skin covering his left forearm like a tatty leather vambrace. Her lips parted as she followed the trail of dark hair from his navel to the waistband of his trousers.
“You put the marble statues of gods to shame.” She made no mention of his scar. “I’m tempted to touch you to see if you are made of steel.”
A memory invaded his mind.
The words of a disgruntled husband he’d known nothing about.
The fire’s hot, eh?
You’ll suffer a second for every time she touched you.
Based on her confession, it’s more than ten.
“You’ll have to take me at my word,” he said, anger ripping through him like the flames had ripped through his skin. “No one touches me, madam.”
The lady jerked her head and looked confused. “Not even your soon-to-be bride? Not the women you bed?”
“No one.”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his statement.
“Perhaps you wish you’d chosen my younger brother to be your saviour. Theo is known by the moniker the King of Hearts. Women adore him.”
Like a lone soldier facing a battalion, she stiffened her spine. “It’s of no consequence. Our time together will be brief, though one should never dismiss the power of a genuine caress.”
He couldn’t help but glance at her delicate hands. For the first time in ten years, he experienced a flicker of regret.
What the hell had this woman done to him?
He’d be damned if he knew.
He didn’t have time to contemplate the matter. Duckett came hurrying over, grinning like he’d found King Midas’ treasure. “Woods will fight you, though his fists are likebleedingmallets.” He pointed to the towering brute with mangled ears. “I’ve bet ten shillings he’ll take you in the second round. Take a hit if you’re still standing, but don’t rouse suspicion.”
Aramis grabbed Duckett by his stained neckcloth. “You’ve mistaken me for a coward. I suggest you change your bet. I’ll floor the giant in the first round.” He would have Woods on his arse in ten seconds.
“But Woods never?—”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll reimburse you.”
Duckett stumbled away when Aramis released him.
While awaiting the lout’s return, he turned to Miss Grant. “If I die, take my sovereign ring to my brother Aaron. Tell him a spade trumps a club. Tell him I’ve beaten him to the grave. Tell him my dying wish is that he helps you in my stead.”
“That’s not how this night will end.” Miss Grant hugged his clothes to her chest as if he were inside them. “I have every faith you’ll live.”
He had every faith, too. Still, he looked at her mouth, keen to drink from her sensual lips lest he perish. Ordinarily, he would grip her hair, tilt her head and feed like a beast in need of blood.
Yet he faltered.
This woman had a hidden power.
What if one kiss drew the strength from his bones?
Thankfully, there was no time to consider the point.
The shouts and jeers grew louder. The crowd parted to create an avenue to the makeshift ring. Woods took centre stage, growling and flexing his muscles to incite the mob.
Aramis cupped Miss Grant’s upper arm. “If I go down, you’re to run. Don’t look back. Do you hear me? Godby will see you safely to Fortune’s Den.”
