Page 74 of Unforeseen Affairs
His heart nearly stopped.
“Possibly something involving the manipulation of fluid, such as holding wine in space with no bottle or jar… easily achieved and easily believed,” she said, sounding a bit weary now. Whether it was of hucksters like Mr. Bass or the ordeal of the day, Colin could not tell.
In the lamplight, the thin cambric linen of the chemise practically glowed, barely concealing her legs and the curve of her waist and hips. She looked like a seraph painted on a church ceiling in Cartagena or Rome or Constantinople.
Colin tore his gaze away, horrified at himself.
“At any rate,” he stuttered, desperate to push the lurid thoughts from his mind, “I’m glad you did it.”
“Did what?”
“Seized his strange little puppet. From his foot.”
“Is that right?”
He heard her set the brush down. There was a small washstand on the opposite wall, and alongside it a row of pegs on which hung her clothing, as well as his discarded jacket.She must’ve fetched it from the floor, he thought with gratitude.
“Yes. It was brave. And he deserved it.” Colin tilted the teacup back and forth, watching the dregs swish about. “I admire your resolve, Miss Sedley.”
He felt the bed dip from the other side. Quickly he swallowed the remains of the cup in one gulp.
“You do?” she whispered.
“And when you took my hand, on the train…” He set his jaw and squeezed his fist. It was only right to say so, though Colin sometimes wished he wasn’t so honest. “I am in your debt, thatyou acted so quickly and decisively to help me. Especially with you not knowing what was happening.”
He stood. His heart threatened to burst from his chest.
It was rather ironic, he suddenly realized, that she had come to his rescue when he was ill and unfit, considering the renown and plaudits he’d had to contend with resulted from his actions when his senior officers were ill and unfit to lead.
“I apologize. I ought not have left it all to you. The lodgings, the—”
“Colin,” she interrupted, “you do not need to apologize.”
“And yet, I cannot let it go unmentioned, that—”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. You were unwell.”
He heard her pull back the counterpane and bedsheet.
“Are you still…” she said, her voice wavering as she hesitated on the last word, “unwell?”
Colin swallowed. His throat felt full, his trousers uncomfortably tight. His head ached, and he walked as if underwater on his way to the cane chair. It was nothing like the terrifying discombobulation of earlier, but he ought to be honest with her. Gingerly he bent down, and set the empty teacup and saucer upon the scrubbed floorboards.
“Slightly, yes,” he said, avoiding looking in the direction of the bed. “It’s nothing to worry about, though. I ought to be able to manage tomorrow.”
The bedlinens crinkled again as she shifted her weight on the mattress.
“Manage what?”
Colin sighed, feeling suddenly far older than he ever had. “We must make it to Manchester.”Before your family realizes you’ve run off and I’ve compromised you.
“Oh, that.”
“What do you mean,that? Have you forgotten the reason we are here?” Irritated by her nonchalance, Colin whirled around.
He immediately wished he hadn’t. Ogling her from behind had been trying enough. But now she looked at him from underneath those thick lashes. Even though she was tucked in, she’d brought her knees up and folded her long, elegant arms atop them, looking so relaxed and intimate that he couldn’t help but feel a stab of longing so intense he had to sit down.
He wanted her. Badly.
