Page 91 of A Deal With a Notorious Devil
“I’d rather you lived for me instead.” Her hand curled around his, threading their fingers together.
“Ah, hell,” he sighed. “I love you. Please come home.”
Phoebe shook off the grip of his hand to slide her fingers into those thick gold locks and hold him still. She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, leaned as far as she could over the top of the wall, and pressed her lips to his. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips. “And I’m coming home.”
“When?”
“Right now. Move over a bit.” She braced her palms flat upon the top of the wall and pushed with all her might until she managed to heft her chest above it.
Kit snickered as she struggled. “You’re going to fall on your arse on the lawn, and I’m going to laugh.”
“Youcouldhelp!” The skirt of her nightdress tightened abouther knees.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked. And then, idly: “I’m hoping your nightdress tears.”
“Then I’ll fall on mybarearse on the lawn.” Somehow, through sheer dint of will, she managed to swing her legs over the top of the wall to let them dangle above Kit’s bench.
The jump was higher than she had estimated. Her nightgown did tear, and she did fall on her arse, and Kit did laugh. But he also braced himself with his cane and extended his free hand to help her back up. “Your parents are going to worry,” he chided.
Probably they would, she thought as she brushed the dirt and the grass from the tatters of her nightgown and laced her fingers once more through Kit’s.
But they’d figure it out eventually.
Chapter Twenty Six
Do you prefer my room,” Chris asked as he slid beneath the covers beside Phoebe, “or yours?”
“I have no preference,” Phoebe said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have discovered over the last few days that separate bed chambers are not to my liking.” He winced as he slid his arm beneath her neck, his knuckles aching. “I thought we’d share.”
“Really? You?Share?”
“With you, I’ll share,” he said. “Besides, it’s damned inconvenient to have to walk all the way back to my room for a change of clothes whenever I’ve stayed the night in yours. Makes my knee ache.” He winced again.
Carefully she pulled his hand out from beneath her. “Kit, your hand! What have you done?” she asked, stroking the pad of her thumb gently across his ruined knuckles.
“Introduced my fist to Scratch’s face a few times too many for comfort. He had an unaccountably thick skull.”Had. He hadn’t much of anything anymore, and that was some comfort at least. “But I’m not the only one with bruises and scrapes.” He turned her face toward the light, and pressed his lips lightly to the delicate skin near her temple, where a bruise was alreadyforming. “What did the doctor say?”
“Not much,” she said. “I cut the inside of my cheek upon my teeth when he struck me. It bled a great deal, but it looks worse than it is. Have I truly got a bruise? Does it look rakish and dashing?”
“It looksbruised.”
“You’ve had worse and I’ve not complained of it,” she grumbled.
“Liar,” he accused. “You’re remarkably proficient at complaining.” His head settled onto his pillow beside hers. “I recovered your dagger for you.”
“I don’t know that I want it back,” Phoebe said with a shudder.
“What? Whyever not?”
“Well, it’s got blood all over it.”
He gave a startled chuckle. “Of course it has. You stabbed a man. The blood will wash off.” His fingers slid through her hair. “I am so proud of you.”
“For killing a man?”
“For defending yourself however you had to do it.”
